This is not my story. I found it in a tattered notebook buried in a box at a yard sale. The box contained two old baseball gloves, which I thought were worth the two dollars I paid for it. Other items in the box included a ball cap, a ring of keys, and, buried in the bottom, a handful of faded photographs. In one of the pictures, two teenaged girls are striking sexy poses in old-fashioned one-piece bathing suits. In another, a young dude is perched on a fence rail in a field. His shirt is off, and he's flashing a loopy grin. I'm not certain, but I believe he's the author of this story. I entered it in the Summer Lovin' Contest because it seemed to be a "lost summer" type of tale. If you find it an enjoyable read, please vote and comment. Thank you for stopping by.
The events herein occurred during the summer of my eighteenth year. I want the reader to know I mean no disrespect to the Lord, or to my sister by revealing our most intimate secrets. My only desire in sharing this chronicle of events is to give others a frame of reference for their journey down the winding road to adulthood under the guidance of the Lord Jesus Christ.
The Last Pew
Walking into church with Sis always gives me a thrill, especially in the summertime when she's wearing her white lacy dress. Everyone turns to watch us as we stroll in. I know it's her they're looking at, and that's fine with me. All I care about is inhaling her soapy clean smell, and hearing the rustle of the slip under her dress, and seeing the beginning of her bust cleavage peaking through the frilly white lace.
Sometimes I notice the guys trying to catch a glimpse of her mostly hidden bust cleavage, but I don't worry about that. The guys in our county don't have much luck with Sis. Between her smart mouth and Daddy's shotgun, they've learned to keep their distance, and that's just fine with Sis.
"I can't believe it," she'd say, coming in the door after one of the local yocals dropped her off after a date. "All he wanted to talk about was cows and trucks." Then she'd engage me in a tickle fight, and the local yokel would be quickly forgotten.
Going to church on Sundays gives us a chance to ditch our parents, who don't approve of our local church because it's too liberal. My parents have their own brand of Christianity based on the Old Testament. Don't get me wrong, they respect and worship the Word, they just don't appreciate how the Word has been twisted into a pretzel by modern society. Some call my folks a backwards bunch, but I'd say they're happier than the rest of the world, at least the little bit of the world I've seen.
Sis and I also like going to church because of the statue of Mary out in the church garden. There's this hedge behind the statue that acts like a secluded little fort, and it's a perfect place to practice-kiss. Sis and I are well aware of the fact that practice-kissing is probably a Sin in the eyes of the Lord, but we need to practice-kiss so we'll be comfortable with our 'sexuality' (I heard that word on a talk show) for when Sis finally meets her husband, and I finally meet my wife. We hope that by practice-kissing under the statue of Mary, the Lord will recognize our reverence to His teachings, and grant His forgiveness for our small, but pleasurable sin.
Practice-kissing with Sis is quite wonderful; holding her in my arms, sticking my tongue in her mouth, feeling her little pear-sized bosoms mashed up against my chest. It can get uncomfortable when my pecker starts to ache, but it's only a temporary ache that goes away when we stop. Actually, it doesn't completely go away in the sense that if I think about Sis practice kissing, my pecker starts to ache again, and sometimes it aches so bad I have to make it spit, but Sis is worth the pain. There's just something about being close to her that gets me all riled up inside while at the same time making me feel calm and serene, as if I was in the Lord's presence.
I'll admit, I had been getting curious about the words I kept hearing on the talk shows; words like "orgasm", "masturbation", "clitoral stimulation","cunnilingus", but when I'd look for them in my parent's dictionary, I could never find them because the pages had been ripped out. See, Mom and Dad home schooled us with the Scriptures, and they didn't allow any contact from the "Outsiders" which is what they call the rest of the world. They say the Outsiders are all descendants of Satan, and from what Sis and I could tell, they're probably right.
When it was time for college, Mom and Pop wouldn't budge. They said we had to skip college so's we could take care of the animals and such. Now ain't that a pile of horse pucky? How's a guy and gal supposed to learn about courting when all they ever see is their own kin? I decided it was high time for me to get some firsthand knowledge about the birds and the bees, so when Mom and Dad left for their annual summer trip to some Bible conference in Chicago, I hatched my plan. Actually, my plan was nothing but a hunch. Sis is very competitive, always ready to take a dare, and I had a doozy in mind. I figured there was a pretty good chance Sis would haul off and punch my lights out when I asked her, but a guy has to pick his moment and go for it.
It was about an hour after Mom and Dad had left. Sis and I had finished our chores, I was walking back from the barn, and Sis was sitting on the top rung of the back fence watching the leaves fall from the big maple tree on the south side of the house. I climbed up next to her, braced myself, took a deep breath, and then I said it:
"I dare you to go to church this Sunday with no panties under your dress." I closed my eyes, expecting either a right cross to the chin or a gut punch, but nothing happened.
"Are you serious?" she said, looking at me like I was from Mars.
"I guess so," I said, amazed she hadn't punched me yet. She just sat there on the fence, chewing on a piece of straw.
"What do I get if I do the dare?"
I hadn't thought that far ahead, but I had to say something. "How about I ride you and Patty down to the lake next week?"
"Really?" Her eyes lit up. Sis loves swimming in the lake, and our cousin Patty does too. Sensing I was holding a winning hand, I thought I'd try elaborating on the dare.
"Sure, but there's a catch."
"There's always a catch with you."
I ignored that remark. "I'll ride you and Patty down to the lake if you'll change into your swimsuits while we're driving."
"You're such a perv," she said, checking to make sure her flannel shirt was all buttoned up, but I could tell she was thinking about it.
"Okay" I said, realizing I might have been pushing my luck, "how about if Patty has to change into her swimsuit?
