Cheating Sisters Sailor Party

Disclaimer: I know nothing about the Navy, or Wisconsin, or anything, really. Enjoy!

*****

"I hope you got chains for them tires," said the guy at the gas station on the Wisconsin border. "We're supposed to get two feet."

It had just started to snow, a few big flakes falling softly by. I was driving up to my sister's place in Evansville with two of my buddies from basic training, Sweet and Hector. She lived with her husband in a little apartment above a bar. We had twenty four hours of liberty to get drunk and get laid and get back to base.

Sweet was inside the gas station, talking to the girl at the register. We were in our whites, with our pea coats on, and he was playing the sailor angle for her, putting his cap at a cute angle and talking a lot of romance of the sea stuff. Hector stayed in the backseat, his watch cap pulled down tight. The heat didn't work and he claimed that he was going to hibernate all the way out to Evansville. I was pumping the gas, and hoping ten bucks worth would get us to Evansville.

"Two feet? Fuuuck," I said.

"I mean, no offense, but them tires ain't got much tread on 'em. You might want to go on back."

That was not going to happen. We'd been cooped up for weeks, and having graduated basic we had just a day to cut loose. We weren't supposed to be going so far, but this was the best shot we had at getting our dicks wet. It was less than ninety minutes to Evansville. Besides, they always make the weather reports sound as scary as they can. Usually, December doesn't get that bad.

Five hours later, we were still at least ten miles out of Evansville. My hands ached from the cold, and how tightly I was gripping the steering wheel.

"Small town bars are the shit," said Sweet. He had pretty much kept up the conversation the entire time. "You show up dressed in whites, it's like you're in a costume. Plus, you're a stranger, right? An exotic. Guys all want to buy you drinks and the girls all want to suck your dick."

"They fuckin' better," said Hector. "This shit is fuckin' cold back here."

"Yo, he's alive," said Sweet. "I figured you were fuckin' dead. I was gonna move you to the trunk for better rear wheel traction in this bitch."

"You want better weight distribution, just turn me over so my giant dick is pointed backwards."

"That's your leg, bitch," I said. "Your dick's the thing the cold shriveled up and turned into a pussy."

I couldn't see the road at all. I was guessing where it was from the signs and mile markers, but a couple times I'd gone off and had to come back on. The car was fishtailing with every turn, and we were barely going fifteen miles per hour. But the thought of that magical bar up ahead kept me going. In my mind it was full of tipsy Wisconsin farmgirls with blonde hair and big boobies drinking shots of Jaeger. One of them was straddling me, wearing my cap. As my hands navigated under her short skirt, I found no panties...

... and veered back into my lane just in time to avoid the oncoming pickup truck.

"Fuck, man!" yelled Sweet.

We all caught our breath.

"Was he in our lane or were we in his lane?" Hector asked.

"I don't fuckin' know," I said. "I was thinking about white girls."

Sweet laughed. "Me too!"

"Wilson, you fuckin' better drive this bitch or we're all balls deep in snow pussy," said Hector, but he was laughing while he said it.

I was white (still am) and Sweet was black (still is). Hector was something Latino, I never asked and he never mentioned it. We all were seamen recruits and we all had no hair, and that seemed more relevant at the time. So we could joke about race pretty freely. I got along with both those guys really well. Sweet was a talker, a charming guy with a million stories. He talked to every single woman he met. Literally. He'd talk to tollbooth operators and women on guard duty and grandmothers and other guys' wives. "Practice, motherfucker," he said. "It makes perfect. Got to get my line straight." Given enough time and opportunity, he'd bring up sex. "All they can do is say no, right? You want to talk about rejection? My mother put me out when I was five, sent me to my uncle. It was horrible, tore my shit up. It took years. I went to therapy and everything. But I got through it. I can get through that, I can take it when some Petty Officer's wife tells me no."

Hector was much quieter. He mostly swore, although he was really funny when he did say anything. But he was like, magical. He could fix broken stuff. He wouldn't say anything, just, like suddenly your Xbox controller was working again. Or a washing machine, or whatever. And he had girlfriends, actual multiple girlfriends on base he'd made himself while going through basic. He never talked about them, either. One day we saw him blow a kiss to a redheaded white girl who blew a kiss back, and another day he briefly touched hands with a Latin girl after mess.

"Do they know about each other?" asked Sweet.

"I don't know. I never asked," said Hector.

If anyone could figure out a private place to fuck on the base, it was Hector, but he wasn't telling.

I wasn't as confident as Sweet or as quietly efficient as Hector. What I was, was eighteen and out of my mind horny. I'd joined the Navy when my high school girlfriend broke up with me, right after we had sex for the second to last time. That was also the second to last time I'd had sex. It had been months. I got fairly good at jerking off in my bunk. What was funny was that I did it with so much stealth and care, in total quiet and secrecy, even after I noticed that both the guys on either side of me were doing it too.

But I was eager for that bar. I needed it. Even with the cold and the horrible driving, I was erect the entire way up to Evansville.

Evansville surprised us. The snow was heavy enough that you couldn't see houses from the road, but suddenly there were buildings on either side of us. None of the lights were on in the stores, and I began to get a sinking feeling.

"Aw fuck," said Sweet.

"That's it, isn't it," said Hector. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck."

"Fuck," I agreed. We had driven up right in front of the bar. It was not full of hot white farmgirls without panties on. It wasn't full of ugly grandmothers, either. It wasn't even full of dudes. It was dark, even the beer signs were off, and there was a piece of paper taped to the door. It couldn't have looked more closed if it had been flattened.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" we all said, getting louder and louder until we were shouting at the top of our lungs.

"I think there was a bar, like, thirty miles back," Sweet said.

"Fuck off," I said. "We don't even have enough gas to get there. We've been running on fuckin' fumes."

"Is your sister hot?" he asked.

"Fuck off," I said. "She's married."

"Married? Oh noooooooo," he said. We all cracked up.

We abandoned the car near what probably was the sidewalk on a side street by the bar, grabbed our ditty bags and knocked on my sister's door. "It's open, come up!" she yelled.

My sister Brianna was ten years older than me. She was actually my half-sister, but her dad was long gone by the time I was born, so I just thought of her as my sister. She'd been the boss of all us kids, five total with her the oldest and me the youngest. I was her baby, the one she got along with best. After she moved out, she'd bring me into the city on sleepovers. We'd stay in her tiny studio apartment, eat popcorn, and watch movies cuddled up under a blanket on her bed. She got married when I was fifteen and moved up to Evansville. She was smart and beautiful, had gone to college and had a series of teaching jobs in the city, and everyone was surprised when she married this cop named Bill and disappeared up to Wisconsin. I'd seen her only twice since then. But when I came in the door, it was like no time had passed at all.

"Wilson baby," she said and gave me an enormous hug. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too!" I said, hugging her back. It was one of those hugs where your bodies are pressed together all the way from neck to knees. I could not help it. Maybe it was her smell. She smelled wonderfully female. Maybe it was the curves I could feel even through my pea coat. But I melted into her, and at the same time, I started to get really, really hard. Brianna was pressed right up against me. She had to have felt it. But she didn't move, she just held me. I tried to just enjoy it without it becoming sexual, like a nice backrub or something. Finally, she shifted herself to look at my face. Her eyes were amused. I knew I was busted.

"Stuck all alone at that big naval base," she said, and I blushed. I've always been an easy blusher, and she knew it. "I can't believe how BIG you've gotten," she said, smiling, and I felt my blush go all the way to my ears. She relented, and hugged me again cheek to cheek. "Ohh, it's so good to see you."

Finally, I pulled away. I don't know how. "Brianna, these are my friends. This is Hector, and this is James."

Sweet smiled and said, "Ma'am, you can call me Sweet."

"Nice to meet you, Sweet, and Hector," Brianna said, hugging each of them in turn... not so long or so fully as me, but enough that if she was trying to figure out if we all were hard, she had her answer. Not that it was difficult to figure it out.

"Ma'am," said Sweet, and my sister interrupted, "Call me Brianna. I'm not old enough for ma'am yet. Kristin, can you believe these sailors are trying to ma'am me?"

Another woman leaned her head in from what was probably the kitchen. She was black too. "Oh, they want something. You know they do," she teased.

"All I want," said Sweet, "is to know how a beautiful black woman like yourself could have an albino like Wilson for a brother."

"Different fathers, of course. Wilson, don't you tell your friends anything?"

"No way," I said. "I like to see the look on their faces when they realize we're related. Where's Bill?"

"Bill's upstate on an investigation. He probably wouldn't have been home until tomorrow anyway, but this makes it definite. Come in! Leave your coats on, though. It's freezing in here!"

It was cold in there. The apartment was tiny, taking up just the back half of the building. All of us, with our bags over our shoulders plus a couch, barely fit into the living room. There was a little dining area with a table and two chairs, with a poster of Dizzy Gillespie, that was at the other end of the living room from the door.

"Put your bags in the bedroom. I have no idea where everyone will sleep. I hope you like floors. Can you believe it? The heat went out. Tonight, of all nights. I left a message with the landlord, but I don't even know if he'll get it."

"Can I take a look?" asked Hector.

"Seriously?" asked Brianna.

"Yeah," he said.

"You gotta let him look," said Sweet. "He's magic with tools."

"I'll take him down through the bar," said Kristin. "I bartend there. I was supposed to work tonight, but no one was coming in. So I came up to hang out with my sweetheart instead. She offered to let me stay over. My kids are with their dad tonight anyway. I thought we'd have heat, though.

Sweet went down with Hector and Kristin, and left me on the couch with Brianna. "So where's Bill?" I asked.

"Oh, he's in Memphis doing some training," said Brianna. "He's not due back until Friday. If this keeps up it might be the weekend.

"I've gotten used to him not being around," she said. "He's ambitious. It's what attracted me to him in the first place, so I can't complain, but when he's off for three weeks on a case or training or testifying or God knows what, I get lonely."

"Well, if he leaves you to roam around a mansion like this, you can hardly complain."

"Oh my God, this place is what we fight about more than anything. He doesn't care, 'cause it's just a bed and a clothes closet to him. I love him, I do, but that man is cheap. And stubborn. I can't believe how much time I spend in this apartment, in this little town. Kristin is basically my only black friend?"

"Why don't you come down to the city more? Mom would love to see you."

Brianna stood up and walked over to the window by the table. "I should. I probably will be forced to soon or I'll go crazy. But Mama didn't like Bill when I married him. She told me he was too excited about being a cop to care that I was stuck in some tiny town with nothing to do the twenty-three hours a day I didn't see him. That his idea of what I should do was either nothing or having babies.

"It's so irritating when your mother is right. Know what I mean?" Brianna smiled. She had the most amazing smile, always.

"Now don't move, I've been waiting long enough. I have to touch that bald head." She came over to the couch and climbed onto me, straddling my legs with both hands on my shaved head. "Mmm, soft," she said.

My sister and I had always been pretty physical with each other, grabbing each other and snuggling up and rubbing backs and necks and so on. I remember at 11 or so, I used to sneak up behind her and grab both her boobs at once. I was a pretty annoying little brother, I guess. But it wasn't sexual, really, or I didn't know it was. I just wasn't wired to be aroused by her. So even though she had cute breasts and long legs and a gorgeous, wide, strong ass, I could grab on to her or even hump her leg without getting aroused or feeling awkward.

This time, though, it was different. I don't know if it was the years since we'd spent time together, or the fact that I'd hardly seen a woman in three months, but her leaping on me was incredibly sexually exciting. I mean, the apartment was cold. She had on heavy jeans, probably long underwear, and a fleece hoodie with the hood up. There were layers of clothes before I got anywhere near her flesh. But I could smell her. She smelled like freshly sanded exotic wood. And her hands were running over my head, and my hands were sitting right at the small of her back. And I imagined all that clothing just being gone, and her naked on me, and maybe 'cause I knew what her body looked like, what I imagined was so real that my breath started to get heavy.

She clambered around so that her knees were in between my thighs, straightened up, and looked down at me from above. Straight from knees to shoulders, meant that her soft little belly was pushed into my chest, and her soft little breasts were right in my face. And, of course, her knees were pressed up against my crotch. "There's the scar from when I dropped that clock on you," she said, touching the very top of my skull. I slowly, slowly let my hands slide down from her waist to the top of her ass. She stroked my head gently as I let my hands slide down further and cup her cheeks.

"If you think it's my rear end you're holding, you're going to be disappointed," my sister said.

"Why's that?" I said, giving the cheeks a light squeeze.

"It's all clothing down there," she said. "So damn cold in this place. I can hardly even feel your hands.

"I have on," she said, "regular underwear, tights, long underwear, sweatpants, and these jeans, which I got specifically to wear with this outfit. They're big."

"That's not all you," I said. "Man. What about up here?" I poked her between her breasts.

"Hoodie, sweatshirt, sweater, long sleeve t-shirt, long sleeve t-shirt, t-shirt."

"Ooooh," I said, grabbing at her breasts, "no bra. Score." I felt up her boobs or whatever the bulges on her chest were. Outside the top layer only, of course.

"I can't feel a thing," she said, with a sardonic expression on her face. "You could go four layers deeper and still not get to second."

"So," I said. "I can fool around with you as long as I don't take your clothes off? I mean, it's not like I'm messing around with my sister."

"You're basically humping laundry," she said. I put my face up against her chest and loudly motorboated her sweatshirt. "Nothing," she said. "I can't tell if you're kissing me or brushing threads off my clothes."

Truth to tell, it was still working on me. She might not have felt much but I was incredibly excited. I was painfully hard now, and her knees pressed up into my crotch made me tingle. I opened my mouth wide over where I imagined a nipple might be, started squeezing her ass together with both hands, and subtly rocked my hips back and forth to slide my dick up against her knees.

"You get points for trying, you little sicko," she said, using one of her old nicknames for me, "but I'm not feeling you, dawg.

"Try this," she said, and getting on to her hands and knees at the end of the couch, stuck her ass out to me. I kneeled behind her, grabbed a hold of her waist, and started humping it. Even with all that clothing, it felt great. I started to realize she was feeling something, too. She was arching her back and pushing her face down into the arm of the couch, getting her pussy as close to my cock as it could be behind all those layers.

"Nope, nope," she said. "Still nothing." She wriggled down and turned herself over, facing me from underneath. Her knee grazed my stomach as she slid it under, so I lay between her legs. "Are you sure you brought your dick, little brother? You used to forget stuff all the time."

"Oh, now you're going to get it," I said. I pulled her legs, lifting her ass into the air, and began to hump her hard. If I could have gotten through, like, eight layers of clothes that we had between us, I would have been fucking the shit out of her. She, in turn, was lifting her ass up, her knees up by her shoulders so that I was pounding her right on her pussy under all that knitwear. She was cracking up as I was thrusting, but I could have cared less right then. Whether it was repressed incest or just a happy wrestling match, my cock felt like it was full of stars. Pushing down onto her was was like hot Saturday night, and sliding backwards was like angelic Sunday morning. Down and back, down and back, hard and fast. It felt better, and better, until...

Suddenly, and with the weirdest open mouth expression, I came in my pants. Right there, in the middle of a downstroke. I froze when it happened, Mr. Smooth Moves, and I gasped out, "O" ... just like that. No h, no period. Just "O". And sploosh, it gushed from me like a wave rushing through sand and it washed me away.

"Oh my God," my sister said. "Did you..."

I was still frozen. "O" I said again, and then the second wave hit and scattered me all over the ocean. My arms collapsed and I fell against my sister's chest with my mouth still stuck in a "O". Eight more pulses spurted out, and I could feel the scalding wet jizz all over and around from my waist to the tops of my thighs. And as I regained myself, bit by bit, I felt the shame pulling over me like a blanket.

"Whoa," said my sister. I lay there face down in her chest, because I had no idea what to say.

"I think you must have been hard up," she said. "Can you masturbate in those Navy bunks?"

"Not really. Maybe three times a night," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Wilson honey. I don't think you could've helped yourself. I mean... maybe next time you could buy me a drink or something..."

"It's on!" yelled Kristin, pushing through the door. "Hector is a genius!" She was carrying two bottles with pourers stuck in them, liberated from the bar downstairs.

"Hector is a genius," yelled Sweet, carrying another two bottles. "Whoaaa! Private moment?"

"Don't be disgusting," Brianna said, "we're brother and sister."

"If you were my sister, I would," said Sweet. "Sorry, no offense. But you are spectacular."

My sister pushed me off her and stood up. I rolled to the floor, and stood up. "I gotta go to the bathroom," I said.

"And clean yourself up!" said Sweet. I hustled in and tried to clean the sperm off. When I got out, there was food spread out on the table and everyone was eating. It did feel warmer, too. Brianna was feeding Hector bits of cheese and grapes while he leaned back on the couch. Sweet was telling of our foiled plans for the bar downstairs, his arm draped over Kristin.