It happens to every guy. It seriously does. And I'm not talking about erectile dysfunction; I'm talking about walking in on your sister while she's buck naked. And if it's not your sister, then it's your mother, or your aunt, or – God forbid – your grandmother. Yes, let's all have a nice shudder before we continue.
That's better. Anyway, as I was saying, most guys will, at some point in their life, encounter an incident that involves, in some manner, a female relative and a whole lot of skin. It's really not our fault, considering how much time women spend in the bathroom. Yes, we probably should knock before going in, but why do they insist on standing in front of the mirror, in the nude, for several thoughtful minutes? The female body is beautiful! Your breasts aren't too small, your butt isn't too big and yes, you would look better shaved. But I guess the blame does rest on both sides of the fence.
Anyway, with an incident like this I guess you really have only two outcomes. Either the sight before your eyes is so hideously unattractive (and
old
) that you're scarred for life, and spend the rest of your years trying to give yourself a frontal lobotomy;
or
... you spend the rest of your life trying to forget that perfect, heavenly sight, which – let's face it – just made your day, and possibly your entire childhood. Either way, it's a long-term thing.
So now that we've established that the guy isn't the only one at fault (keep that in mind for the next few pages, or at least until you've learnt to like me), let me tell you
my
story.
As you may have guessed, it involves my sister. My sister who, I had always thought, was your ordinary, run-of-the-mill female sibling whose only purpose in life (as far as I was concerned) was to make sure that I didn't have to do all the household chores. She was twenty-four at the time this happened, and I was eighteen.
Okay, so you already know what happened when I woke up that Friday morning, but it's no fun if I just skip it and tell you what happened afterwards. I have to
describe
it first, in
detail
, so that you can picture it and appreciate the full impact of the event. It's no small thing for an eighteen-year-old guy, you know. It's one of the major shaping points of his life. He holds onto that memory until he dies, or at least until he becomes senile. So yeah, hold your horses.
Anyway, as I said, it happened on a Friday morning. And let's be honest here – Friday mornings aren't that bad. Monday mornings are terrible, Thursday mornings are so close to the end of the week that they're basically a tease, but Friday mornings... they're all right. If you have school on a Friday, it's only six short hours until you're off for the week. And if you have work, it's two or three more. Unless, of course, you're working night shift, or your boss is a slave driver, or a vending machine falls on your legs and keeps you at work all weekend. But that's not too likely.
So I woke up feeling pretty good on Friday morning. I wasn't shouting "Hello, world!" from my open window, or singing along with the swallows that frequent our garden, but I was in a reasonably cheerful mood. I was also in a pair of blue polyester trousers (they're like silk trousers, only cheaper) and a plain white T-shirt – my basic night-time apparel. My hair was badly dishevelled, on account of the fact that I toss and turn regularly and always sleep on my side, and my skin was all sweaty and stiff. Not the prettiest picture to paint, but we're trying to be realistic here; and anyone who thinks they wake up looking like the crown prince of Handsome Land is kidding themselves.
So, in my post-sleep stupor, I stumbled to the bathroom, using one eye to navigate whilst I rubbed the other with my palm. (It's not as difficult as it sounds). When I reached the bathroom, the door was closed. I didn't pay much attention to that fact, because I knew my parents would have already showered, and my sister would have left for work by now, so the bathroom would be free. Someone had probably just forgotten to leave the door open after they'd finished. So, what do I do? I open the door, of course.
And then BANG! My entire body goes haywire. Let me try and describe exactly what happened to it.
My eyes, needless to say, increased their radius by an enormous degree; my mouth fell open like a wacky portcullis; my legs gave a kind of jelly-like tremble; and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. That wasn't all though. My mouth went immediately dry at first, then flooded with saliva; my palms and armpits began to produce sweat at a rate that would have cooled down the Sahara Desert; and, most obvious of all, my friendly neighbourhood trouser snake sprang to hard and painful attention. It was a mixed bag of feelings, to say the least.
But I'm neglecting the most important part. What could I have possibly been looking at to make my body go through such a complex string of reactions? Well, okay, you already know, but I'll tell you again anyway. It was my sister. My sister!
And mother of God,
what
a sister! I had never before, in my life, regarded her as attractive, nor had I ever entertained any curiosity as to what she looked like beneath her clothes. I'd remained completely and blissfully ignorant of this ... this ...
goddess
that was standing naked in front of me. But now ... it was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes, and I suddenly saw a completely different girl who had, nevertheless, been right under my nose for the past eighteen years. I should have guessed right away how much that incident would torture me. How was I ever supposed to let it go? I felt like it was burned into my brain; if I ever got a CAT scan, the doctors would see the image of my naked sister etched into my cerebral cortex. Obviously, I was kind of affected by this episode. But my sister...
"James, you fucking idiot! Get the hell out! GET OUT!" Her voice was like the shrill grinding of the garbage truck's brakes that wakes you up at six in the morning. I was actually tempted to clap my hands over my ears. She was hysterical.
"I'm ... sorry," I mumbled, still staring at her breasts. And oh, they were such lovely breasts. I was still a virgin, and I hadn't had so much as an experimental kiss before. Sure, I'd looked at porn (way, way too much) and I'd found myself gazing at the chests of beautiful women, but to actually see breasts, in real life, five feet away from me, just hanging there like a new, undiscovered fruit... It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time – kind of like skydiving, I guess.
And then her belly – her soft, slender belly. And her
hips
! They weren't just straight and bony like mine – they actually curved out and plunged down to become her thighs. And such lovely thighs they were. I could almost have wrapped a single hand around one with my fingers meeting on the other side. But between them... It was like an epiphany for me – seeing a vagina for the first time. Here was my sister – my ordinary, boring sister – standing with the body of a mature woman, ready to copulate and have her period and make babies. I felt suddenly awakened to all of life's greatest miracles. My sister could do all those things. My sister!
As I stood there in dumbstruck awe, I had the sudden, desperate urge to tell her how much I loved and respected her, and how
awesome
her body was. I wanted to tell her that her collarbones were like lovely willow branches, that her lips were like rose petals, that her cheeks were as vibrant and alive as anything I had ever seen. I wanted her to take my hand and show me all sorts of new and wondrous things, to teach me about the female body and how to make love to it. I wanted to devote my entire life to the sight I saw before me.
And before you start wondering:
no
, I wasn't high. I was just full of an ineffable awe that is extremely hard to put into words. Hopefully, I've captured it to some degree.
But despite all this wonder and amazement that I felt, my sister was easily balancing the scales with her unbridled fury. "Get OUT!" she shrieked, and grabbed a fluffy white towel to wrap around her body. It was the towel that broke the spell. Now robbed of that radiant and beautiful sight (which made me want to beg for its return), I blinked several times and suddenly realised what I was doing. Oh, and my trousers were
seriously
tented.
"I'm sorry," I gasped, spinning around to go. I missed the door on the first spin, but got it on the second. "I'm sorry," I kept repeating, as I hurried out and closed the door behind me. I took one deep, shaky breath and then bolted back to my room. My mother impeded my progress, however.
"What's going on?" she asked, sounding confused.
"Nothing," I replied hastily, still out of breath.
"Why was Jemma shouting?"
"Uh ... I don't know," I lied. As my breath caught up to me, I started to frown and ponder a question of my own. "How come you're not at work?"
"Because it's only eight o'clock," my mother replied. "Why are you up so early?"
I thought about this for several confusing seconds. And then I remembered: the brief and annoying power outage last night, the resetting of my alarm clock, which I matched to my watch – my
old
, and almost never
used
watch which hadn't been updated for Daylight Savings Time. I had woken up an hour earlier than usual and assumed that it was still time to go to school. I wanted to mash my palm against my forehead, but I wasn't sure what my mother would make of that.
"Right," I said, trying to avoid her eye. "I'm gonna go back to bed." She was obviously still confused, but I hurried past her and made it to my room before she could raise any objections. Once there, I lay down on my bed, then sat up, then paced back and forth, and then decided to stare out of my window for several minutes. No matter where I looked, I could still see Jemma's naked body. It had become my Mecca, my Jesus, my religion! I wanted to lavish gifts and compliments on her in the hopes that she would allow me to glimpse her bare flesh once more. I felt a strange desire and reverence bubbling up inside me. I suppose that's what it feels like to achieve nirvana. Those monks are wasting their time though; they should just walk in on their sisters when they're in the bathroom and be done with it.
I wasn't done with it though. I hadn't even
begun
to contemplate, analyse and deconstruct every tiny little detail of my experience. I would spend months – years – tracing the sensuous lines of her body in my mind. I would scrutinise that mental image until I could recall it at a moment's instant. I would try (and fail) to decide which feature of her body I liked best. In short, I would go mad.
It started at school, on that same day. I waited until Jemma had left the house before going into the bathroom and finding the exact spot she had stood when I'd seen her. I played the event over in my mind, again and again, until I found that I was
insanely
horny, at which point I jacked myself off and came like a prize-winning bull. I didn't really feel that sordid at the time; I just knew I wanted to orgasm while I was thinking of my sister's soft, unrelenting body. Afterwards I felt bad, but it passed with time.
