Introduction: Sister Suzie didn't sew shirts for sailors, she showed me sorts of sexy satisfaction.
Suzie and I have always been close, about as close as sisters can be. Our father edged off, as our mother, Iris, expressed, when I was two and Suzie was five. So Iris had to work full time as a dentist's receptionist and much of the caring for me was taken on by Suze. And she was utterly wonderful, endlessly kind and patient, with everything from potty-training to teaching me to read and write before ever I went to school. Of course, she was herself at school much of the day, during which time I was at the day-minder's, Mrs Robertson. But it was Suzie who took and fetched me and looked after me between the school and Iris reaching home, and she took care of me all the time during the holidays.
We were, naturally, always intimate. She wiped my bottom when I was little, and I helped her cope with the menarche when she was eleven, enabling me to handle my own puberty with the greater ease. We usually bathed together, ate together and played together. But we didn't sleep together till I was eighteen, by which time she, at twenty-one, had gone to university, got her degree and returned home.
She had had a bad experience with a young man. She had fallen in love with him, and, believing he loved her, she had given him her virginity. Then he had cooled, and when they finished their degrees, he had left without making any proposal for furthering the relationship.
On the third night that I heard her sobbing in her room I knocked on her door and found her lying on front, soaking her pillow with her tears. I persuaded her to get up, undressed her and tucked her naked into her bed. Then I sat beside her a little while, then got up to leave. She grabbed at me and asked me to stay with her. So I slipped into her bed and took her in my arms.
For the next few nights we got into bed together, in her room or mine, without having to say anything. She found this comforting and fell asleep quite quickly, especially if I stroked her back and bottom. I found this strangely exciting, like the touch of her pubic hair on my thigh, when her nightdress rode up, and the feeling of her breasts pressed against mine. Several times our nipples coincided through our nighties and I found this arousing.
Then there came the night when I was awoken by her moving rhythmically against me and trying to keep her fast breathing quieter. I decided to pretend to be asleep, not wanting to interrupt her masturbating, because I thought that must be helping her. Perhaps she was missing the sex she had had with the young man. Her hand was busy at her pussy and actually touching mine, too, and her nipples were hard against me. It was difficult to maintain the pretence of sleep, because she was so much arousing me.
I wondered, of course, if this was wrong. Should I be finding my sister sexually stimulating? Should I be in bed with another woman, sister or not?
Quite soon she climaxed, with a trembling sigh, and fell asleep in my arms. I was now far from sleeping, however, and being well on the way to satisfaction, decided to seek my own release, and cautiously slipped my hand down my tummy seeking my vulva.
I found my nightie was damp from my juices already, and also, I suspected, from hers, since the back of hand, touching her thigh, was wet and slippery. This was the more exciting and I needed only a few fingerings of my clitoris to reach orgasm.
The next night, when we were tucked up together, in each other's arms, Suzie asked, 'Were you sexing yourself last night, Normy?'
'Yes, I was,' I said, 'You got me excited by doing it yourself.'
'So you weren't asleep, of you woke up?'
'Yes.'
'Were you hoping I'd do it again tonight?'
'Yes.'
'I've got a better idea,' she said. 'Why don't we do it for each other?'
'Oh gosh, Suze,' I said, 'Would that be all right?'