The first real sexual experience of my life began not long after I had turned eighteen. My partner in crime was my sister, Mary Jane. I should explain myself. MJ is only my half-sister. She's almost three years older than I am, being the product of my father and a woman other than my mother, whom he had been married to for the first two years of Mary Jane's life.
Mary Jane is what the less gentlemanly might call "a real looker." She is about 5'9" and slightly slim for her size, with pale skin lightly dusted with freckles, natural red hair that curls its way about halfway down her back, and the most alluring blue eyes you've ever seen. Mary Jane is not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination, but she does some small amount of daily exercising to keep in shape. She's also strictly a vegetarian, something that is admirable diet-wise, but also an ideal that I do not personally follow. MJ is not, almost surprisingly, a very outgoing person. She has a few friends that I know, but for the most part she keeps to herself in her room and rarely goes out.
This, as it turned out, was a very good thing for me. You see, ever since I was young, Mary Jane had been the object of most of my sexual desires. I say "most" because I did have a girlfriend for a period of about seven months during which I lost my virginity and got laid on an almost daily basis after the first three months. A seemingly innocent fact helped and encouraged me with my hormone-driven thoughts of my very own sister. MJ and I had bedrooms that were wall to wall with each other. When my sister was younger, my father decided to build shelves for all of her various toys and children's books.
He made two large ones, one of which was placed on the wall that was in common with mine. He planned the shelves as semi-permanent fixtures and, as such, drilled holes in the wall in order to attach the shelves. Since then, MJ has had the shelves removed. That left eight pretty decent sized holes in my closet wall. They were covered with plaster on her side; apparently my parents didn't think about my side of the wall. At any rate, one of the hole's covering plaster had managed to crack and peel away for the most part, giving me a hole about the size of a dime through which I could see a good portion of my sister's room.
I discovered this fact one evening as I was searching for a particular shirt in the pile of dirty clothes that usually rests in my closet. A framed picture that had been in my closet for as long as I could remember was leaning against the wall. My clothes were, as usual, on the verge of taking it over. Normally I just took some clothes to the laundry room or pulled them away from the picture, but for whatever reason I decided to move the picture to one end of my closet where my clothes wouldn't get in the way. With that, the dime-sized hole was revealed.
I found that I could see most of MJ's room. What I couldn't see was the closet past her bed, the door, and, of course, just about anything on the common wall. I didn't think much of it at first, but after sometime the implications of it began to sink in. After a while, I knew that my sister remained up with her light on for a very long time after mother and father had gone to bed and that she was often still awake when I decided to sleep. I figured that she was probably spending most of her time either online or reading, both of which were her favorite pastimes, and mine as well. I recall quite clearly when the idea of other things began to form in my mind. I was lying in bed, naked, as I usually was when I had decided to sleep, and I was staring at the ceiling, trying to find a reason to masturbate.
My eye wandered to the hole, as it was the only source of minute light in the room aside from the blue digital numbers of my alarm clock. Slipping quietly from my bed, I crept over to the hole and peered into my sister's room. I could see her quite clearly in an evening robe, lying on her bed and reading. I continued watching with anticipation, but I gave up with no small amount of disappointment after three-quarters of an hour. Not to be defeated so easily, I found myself kneeling before the hole nearly every night for the next two weeks. Unfortunately, I never found her doing anything other than reading, writing, or using her computer.
A full three nights after my last attempt at spying on Mary Jane, my parents went out of town. They worked together doing "in the field" research for a scientific corporation, and often left town for days or weeks at a time. They were to be gone for the next four days at least, and they would phone if it would be longer. There was nothing at all unusual about this, and after ordering a pizza for dinner and watching a few movies on TV, I decided to call it a night. I had gotten up early that day, and I was tired. I told MJ good night and went to my room. I read a bit from one of my Sherlock Holmes books. When I was through with that I turned out my light and crawled naked into bed.
As tired as I was, I couldn't seem to get to sleep. I'd been trying unsuccessfully to sleep for about twenty minutes when I heard Mary Jane enter her room, then saw her light go on. I figured she was going to read for a bit as well before sleeping, but nevertheless I slid silently from my bed and crept up to the hole. Peering inside, I could see MJ standing near the foot of her bed, looking into the mirror over her dresser, which I couldn't see. She parted the robe she was wearing and gave a critical look towards her reflection. She sighed then, and shrugged out of the robe, which she tossed to the floor.
She turned to her left, giving me an inspiring view of her rear end. I could see a trail of freckles along the top of it and further up her back. Her bottom was very shapely, and when she moved just so, I caught a glimpse of her pussy lips. Even though I couldn't see much, I felt myself growing hard as I looked at her. She turned to her right then, giving me a full view of her magnificent breasts. I hadn't ever imagined them to be so lovely. They were large, delicious looking globes, dotted along the tops with freckles. Her nipples were large, the aureoles quite big, and very pink.
She was still looking into the mirror. Her right hand trailed up her stomach and came up to her breasts, and she began to fondle herself, tweaking her nipples to make them hard. Her other hand went down between her legs, to her unshaven sweetness. I heard myself swallow and my heart rate quickened. She didn't seem to notice a thing, though I was sure the beating of my heart would give me away. I took my throbbing member into one hand and began to slowly stroke it as I gazed, entranced, at Mary Jane. She knelt to allow herself to spread her legs easily, slipping two fingers up inside of herself. I almost choked.
A plan sprung into my mind unbidden, but I knew at once that it was what I had to do. I stood up, stretching my legs to keep the sudden blood flow from numbing them. I groped in the dark for a pair of boxers, which I put on immediately. I stood at my door and shut my eyes tightly, trying to think of as many repulsive things as I could. After a few moments, it began to take effect and I felt my manhood no longer standing at attention. I opened my door as quietly as I could and tiptoed to Mary Jane's door. I tried to think of an excuse. Suddenly, I had it: I was just wanting to borrow a book, since I couldn't get to sleep and had run out of anything good to read.
Without giving it a second thought, I turned the knob on the door, which was thankfully unlocked, and pushed it open. I began to speak before I had it fully opened, but all I got out was, "Mary Jane, I . . ." before I merely stared with my mouth agape. I could see her much more clearly than from my spying hole and every detail I saw was a thousand times more enticing than before. She was staring at me with an expression that was half fear, half anger. I had caught her, one hand massaging a breast, the other between her legs. She was obviously searching for something to say.
Before I knew it, my prick had ballooned back to its full seven and a half inches, poking out of the hole in my boxers. Her eyes darted to it and stared, transfixed. We were stuck in that tableau for what seemed an eternity. Without conscious thought, my hand went to my engorged member and I began to stroke it as I stared at her beautiful naked body. Her mouth started to open, but she just licked her lips cautiously and began to masturbate again, fingering herself. Her eyes never met mine.
A full fifteen minutes later I was still standing there, my hand still wrapped around my cock, though unmoving. Mary Jane had continued to finger herself the whole time, alternating hands, squeezing her nipples with whichever hand was not between her legs. She merely stared at my crotch the whole time. As the sixteenth minute began ticking, she squeezed her eyes shut, breathing hard. She bucked up on her hand, thrusting her fingers deeper. She continued to ride her own hand as she opened her eyes to fix them on my cock, and a few moments later she gasped loudly as her entire body shuddered, and I knew she had had an orgasm right in front of me.
After a few more minutes, she seemed to settle down and become consciously aware of what was going on. She started to look embarrassed, looking up into my eyes a few times. Either she couldn't think of anything to say, or couldn't bring herself to say it. So, staring at her still nude form, I began to slowly masturbate in front of her. She'd given me quite a show, hadn't she? My other hand pushed my boxers down to my knees, then cupped my balls as I stroked myself. Mary Jane seemed a bit awed by this, but she didn't seem afraid or embarrassed at all anymore. She scooted closer to me, still on her knees, and reached up to pull my boxers all the way down. I stepped out of them and looked down at her, masturbating.
She looked up at me with a mischievous smile just then. She moved even closer to me and held her breasts up, pushing them under my dick. The feeling of those incredible globes surrounding me like that is indescribable. I bent my knees a bit and placed my hands on her shoulders. I moved up and down slightly, thrusting my cock between her breasts. I looked down, seeing the freckles splashed along the tops of those wondrous spheres of flesh, seeing the pale skin of the breasts themselves, and watching the large pink nipples sliding along my inner thighs as I thrust. Mary Jane wasn't inactive herself. She was moving her breasts with her hands at a pace opposite mine, pushing them down along my shaft as I thrust towards her, and pulling them up along it as I brought it down.
