Mister Jac Miller

By way of introduction, let me say that if you haven't read the first chapter of this story, then much of the next few pages will mean very little to you. So I suggest you go back and read "Mister Jack Miller: Chapters 1 and 2" to get the background on this tale. That having been said, please...read on...

As I stepped into the elevator, I met Debbie, who had spent the afternoon playing miniature golf with a few of her male cousins. She was dressed in a yellow tank top, under which she sported a lacy black bra which the tank top had no success whatsoever in hiding. She also sported a white mini-skirt and yellow deck shoes.

"Well, look who's got himself a girlfriend!" she giggled as I stepped onto the elevator.

"What the heck are you talking about?" I asked, wondering if I was THAT transparent.

"Duh," she said as she grabbed my face and turned me so I could see myself in the mirror-wall of the elevator. Then I saw it. The lip-print on my cheek that Shari had given me a few minutes previous was right there for all the world to see.

"Oh, yeah, that. So what of it?"

"Nothing, Jackie. Just observing. I'm allowed to do that, you know."

"Well, for a second there, you sounded a bit jealous."

"So? What if I am? After all, I AM the first girl who ever kissed you, you know. I need to know if I've got competition."

I harked back to that lazy summer afternoon. I was eleven, Debbie was almost thirteen. She was visiting for the summer, and we had discovered the treehouse in the big oak behind the barn. It was normal kid-stuff. The first one was silly and clumsy, but we practiced all summer, and ended up getting pretty good at it, mimicking all the adults we had ever seen French kissing. A few days before the end of summer we transitioned into the time-honored "you show me yours, I'll show you mine" game, learning that mine was the first penis she had ever seen, and hers was the first vagina I'd ever seen...and while nothing more had ever happened between us, we had always kept that secret between us. And then, during the following summer, even though we were separated by over two thousand miles, she became the inspiration for my very first wet dream. But that much I never told her, though I had thought about telling her more than once, even now...

"Debbie, sweetheart," I said, stepping off the elevator with her and taking both her hands in mine, "You've got no competition, don't you worry about that. You are one of a kind, girl, my first and my best." I said it deliberately vague as to whether I was serious or not, and she leaned in toward my face, pretending she was going to kiss me, but instead reached up with a Kleenex and wiped the lip-print off my face.

"There. That's better. You had better save me a date this week, Jackie. You still owe me about a half dozen orders of fries, you know, and I intend to collect one of these days." I recalled the chug-a-lug bets we had, first as teenagers with cokes and juice, and later in our early twenties with beers at the community college pub. "Maybe we can go double or nothin'. I've been practicing."

"Fine, but we'll do it AT the restaurant THIS time, so WHEN you lose, you can buy me at LEAST one of those orders of fries RIGHT AWAY."

"Sounds fair to me. How about tomorrow for lunch? The only thing planned for tomorrow during the day is the trip to the amusement park...that is, unless you want to spend the whole day with those cousins of yours following you around with hard-ons all day..."

She giggled again. "Man, you should have seen them today. Especially when I bent over to putt and they saw these." She lifted up the mini skirt and revealed her panties: traditional white cotton panties with yellow and black smiley faces on them. It was very easy to imagine the reaction of those boys when they got an eyeful of those panties, but at the same time, it was pretty easy to see the shape of her shaved pussy lips behind the fabric. In fact, the way the panties fit between her lips, it looked like one of the smiley faces was puckering up for a nice sweet cunt-kiss. I was brought back to my senses when she dropped her skirt back down and said, "Maybe I'd better wear baggy jeans and a sweatshirt tomorrow afternoon when WE go out, Jack." she winked, letting me know that that would probably not happen, then she kissed me on the cheek and said, "See you tomorrow, hot-stuff."

Despite the fact that I had had one (or two?) of the most spectacular orgasms in my life less than an hour ago, I still had to adjust my growing woody in my pants as I watched her head down the opposite hallway to her room, shaking her ass and casting me backward glances until she flipped her skirt up for me one last time before disappearing around a corner. Hmmm, I thought, she's definitely one of a kind...

********

I actually had the presence of mind to open the door as quietly as possible, remembering that Alex had said that she was planning on taking a nap after her shower. What I didn't expect was what I saw when I stepped into our room. There she was, laying not on her bed, but on mine, wearing the shirt that I had worn on the plane yesterday. She was on her side with one leg stretched out underneath her, and the other curled up toward her chest, so that as I cast my eyes down her frame, her naked pussy seemed to wink at me, because it was somewhat moist. I then noticed that her hand was underneath her pussy, as if she had been touching herself before she drifted off to sleep...but the most startling thing I noticed was that in addition to wearing my shirt from yesterday, she also held in her fist the underwear I wore on the plane as well, and her hand was close enough to her face that it was not entirely unlikely that she had been sniffing my pre-come soaked underwear at some point.

Rather than waking her directly and possibly causing her some embarrassment, I instead opted to slip into the shower and wash up a bit myself. As I washed my cock, I took a moment to relive the glorious afternoon spent in Shari's room, but at a few points during that daydream images of Donna, Debbie, and, surprisingly, Alex, inserted themselves into the drama. I wondered what Donna was doing today, probably settling into her new role as VP of Marketing. I replayed that awkward moment from that night we hooked up the cameras in my house, but in reliving it the scene changed to a wild, athletic sexual romp. I pictured Debbie bounding into her room, stripping off all her clothes and masturbating over how hot and bothered she had made those young teen boys this afternoon. And I wondered if there was anything behind Alex's wearing of my shirt, and her strange positioning on my bed. But mostly I thought of Shari, how beautiful and caring and sexy and wild and wonderful she was all at the same time.

Suddenly realizing I'd spent the last ten minutes washing my cock and daydreaming, I quickly washed my hair and was shaving my face when I heard the bathroom door open.

"Jack? Is that you?"

"No, it's me Uncle Hal," I said in a deliberately bad impression of Hal.

"EEEEEEEEK!" She screamed in a cartoon voice and then started to laugh. "You goofball," she said as she walked over and sat down on the toilet. I stood there, facing the toilet and finishing up my shave. I watched through the semi-transparent plastic curtain as Alex bent over, still sitting on the toilet, and picked something up off the floorn. It was then I realized two things. One was that what she had picked up was the underwear I had been wearing this afternoon, and that they had Shari's and my mixed bodily fluids soaked into them, and Two, that I still had a boner from my recent daydream and that Alex could no doubt see me as clearly as I could see her. But for some reason, I didn't turn away, but watched instead as she brought the briefs up to her nose and breathed in deeply, then tossed them back onto the ground where they were, saying, "So how was your afternoon, Jackie?" She wiped and stood up, but had the presence of mind and the courtesy not to flush so that I wouldn't experience a scalding blast of water.

"Um, it was nice, Al. I watched a movie."

"A movie, huh? Musta been a really good one." there was a pregnant pause that could have been filled with any number of stupid comments by either one of us. I knew that I was going to tell her everything eventually, but for some reason, maybe it was the newness of all the stuff that had happened to me lately, or maybe it was the strange position I found her in when I came in the room, I was a little reluctant to start talking to her quite yet about it all.

"Oh, believe me, it was. I'll tell you all about it in a little while. Which reminds me, where you wanna go to dinner tonight?"

"You know, bro, I'm still a little beat. Not quite ready to go anywhere yet. What do you say we just order in? We could call down to room service for a pizza. They're showing back to back episodes of The Sopranos on HBO tonight, and there's at least one of those I haven't seen yet. Then maybe if we're feeling up to it later on, we could go down and take a dip in the Jacuzzi or something. I'm just so tired...plus it'll give us a chance to catch up on everything."

"Sure, Al, whatever you want. I could use a quiet night myself." I said as I finished my shave and stuck my face into the shower stream to rinse off, then let the water beat on my back for a few moments, hoping that my erection would subside somewhat so I could step out of the shower with minimal embarrassment. Which it did, not completely, but enough to where I wouldn't be completely mortified if she happened to see it (but then, considering the transparency of this shower curtain, she probably already had seen it)...

I turned off the water and reached out to grab a towel, and realized that Alex must have used both towels, one for her hair. "Hey, Al, could you bring me a towel? I'm drippin' here..."

She came in quicker than I had expected, and whipped the curtain aside, handing me the drier of the two towels she'd used. She was still wearing my shirt, which was completely unbuttoned. My cock was down to about half-mast by then, and she glanced down at it, then back up at my face at the same time I glanced down at her rather hairy pussy peeking out from between my shirt-tails, and then back up at her face. She tossed the towel at me, saying, "Hurry, up now, Jack. I've got a feeling we have a lot to discuss tonight. I'll order the pizza and you can make yourself a little more presentable...IF you need to, that is..."

She turned around and walked out of the bathroom. The shirt wafted up a little as she walked, giving me a nice view of her somewhat large but nonetheless attractive ass as she walked away. I dried off as best I could and wrapped the towel loosely around my waist and walked out into the bedroom. Alex was just hanging up the phone. "I hope you like Sam Adams, because it was either that or Bud Light, and if I remember correctly, you hate light beer."

"Right as usual, sister dear," I said as I reached into my suitcase and pulled out my flannel pajama pants. My hard-on had started to rise again as a result of the recent exchange with Alex, so I pulled them up a little quicker than I normally would have. I didn't bother putting a shirt on, figuring I was respectable enough for an evening in with my big sister. I noticed as I pulled the pants out of the suitcase that Alex had buttoned up most of the buttons on the shirt, and had managed to stuff the briefs she was clutching while she slept into the side pocket of my luggage. "So you don't have any shirts of your own then? Gotta steal your brother's dirty laundry?"

"Come on, bro, this is a great shirt, you gotta admit it. Besides, I always wore--I mean wear Brian's shirts when I'm at home." I caught the misstep in her speech and the uncomfortable look in her eye as she caught herself, but decided to let it pass...for now. She did, however, think to fasten most of the buttons of the shirt, and put on a pair of light blue panties so that her pussy was now properly hidden from my eyes, and the only view I had of her breasts was a taste of cleavage and the subtle pink nipple-points pressing against the thin fabric of the tailored Italian shirt. She had pulled the comforter on her bed back and had taken all the pillows from both beds and propped them up against the headboard of her bed. She sat back against them, legs stretched out, feet crossed, and stretched her arms up over her head, yawning loudly. This served to pull the shirt up so I could see her panties, and the texture created by her soft forest of pubes. She grabbed the remote, clicked on the TV and found HBO, then turned it down so low I had to strain to hear anything. As she was returning the remote to the bedside table, she noticed where my eyes were focussed and pulled the tails back over her crotch and said, "Now, be good, brother! Why don't you come over here and tell me all about what happened between you and Wendy..."

So, I did. I opened up to her completely. I told her every last little detail, from the day I found out at the picnic to the videotaping to my growing feelings for Donna. When I got to the part about the divorce and how she had signed the papers without a fuss, Alex pumped her fist and shouted "Yess!"

That's when the knock came on the door, and the serving girl, a thin, graceful African-American woman with very high cheekbones and large breasts, who looked to be in her early twenties, came in with the pizza and a tray of six Sam Adams, all opened. She wore the standard hotel outfit--white blouse, dark green skirt and matching jacket, black hose, and low-heeled black pumps. She noticed my look of wonder that all the beers were already opened and read my mind: "Sorry, sir, that's how we're supposed to do it. We're supposed to say 'We're not a liquor store,' but I always thought that to be a little rude." I guess that meant that we'd be finishing those beers tonight whether we wanted to or not. I tried to figure out if the look that the serving girl was giving to Alex while I signed the tab was one of jealousy or familiarity, but it didn't really matter as I handed her the receipt, adding a nice tip. She was looking at me the whole time I wrote and signed, and when I looked up, I made eye contact with her for a split second before she turned away. There was a little spark there, I thought, but maybe I'm just so hungry that the person delivering food looked extra good to me, so I smiled back at her, and said good night.

Alex, of course had the pizza order perfect. Pepperoni on the whole thing, tomatoes and mushrooms on my half, pineapple on hers. We did our usual "Fruit doesn't belong on pizza/Tomatoes are a fruit" mock-argument before stopping long enough to indulge in a few slices and down the first of our beers while we watched the Sopranos episode that she hadn't seen before.

During the show, I took the liberty of sliding up next to her on the bed, mostly to have something to lean back on while I ate, and to see the television better. It did, however, serve to put our legs in close contact with one another, and there were a few moments when she rubbed her leg against mine that for whatever reason reminded me of that night after I modeled for her class.

When the episode was over and we were halfway through our second beers, she turned the sound back down. "I've already seen this one, so we can go back to the story."

So I continued, picking up from the time I had boarded the plane. I hadn't intended to be very explicit when I described my first encounter with Shari (whose name I didn't reveal to Alex yet, and she didn't ask because I think she realized I was saving the name for later on in the story), but she prodded me for details, so I described everything in as much detail as I could. The kisses, the breast-play, the ice cube, and the way I masturbated her to orgasm during the movie. It was clearly obvious that Alex was becoming turned on by the whole account, because her nipples were poking visibly against my shirt, and despite the strong aroma of oregano and beer, I could smell her arousal as it grew. Of course, I couldn't even think, let alone talk, about the whole thing without becoming aroused myself, so before I knew it I too was tenting my pajamas with a huge, twitching erection.

"Oh, Jackie, that sounds so cool and sexy and romantic, I wish I was...I mean, I wish something like would happen to me on a plane someday." As she said this, she lay back against the pillow for a second and started to bring her knees up like she wanted to touch herself or something, then slid them back down again somewhat self-consciously. "So, go on, what happened after that?" she said as she rested her hand on my thigh, not really in a sexual way, but just as a way to encourage me to continue.

So I went on, telling her about how I found out that Shari was Darren's widow (she gasped, then got a look on her face like a bridesmaid gets when she's truly happy for the bride), and concluded with an account of our afternoon together in her hotel room. I didn't want to give too much detail about what happened then, so, in addition to only talking about that in very general terms, I avoided looking at Alex when I talked about it. but I must have given her enough detail to spark her imagination, because when I looked back at her, she was leaning back again, and this time she had left her knees up and her hand (the one that wasn't clutching my thigh more tightly now) was resting on her pussy, though it was not moving at the time I looked at it (whether that was only because I had looked right at that moment, I wasn't sure, but the aroma of her arousal was much stronger in the air about us now). I finally told her that I was trying to sort out the internal conflict I was having between my growing feelings for Donna and the sudden intensity of my feelings for Shari.

She turned her head to me and said, "Oh, Jackie, what an emotional rollercoaster. I'm so sad for you, but I'm so happy." and I knew that she genuinely was, because her eyes were wet with tears and she had the biggest smile I had ever seen on her face. "I love you so, so much. Come here." and she took her hands away from her crotch and my thigh and opened them up to give me a hug, and I pulled her up into an embrace, our heads on each others' shoulders, and once again, I remembered that night when we hugged...but I also felt that there was something that she needed to get off her chest, too, so to speak. So, after we had spent our emotion (for the moment, anyway) I let her lay back on the pillow, cracked the last two beers open, handed her one, and brought the now-empty pizza box over onto the dresser, sidled up against her once more and said, "So, Allie (I hadn't called her Allie since grade school), talk to me. I know there's something up with you and Brian, too. Give over."

We both took healthy swigs of our beers as she began to tell me about how their marriage had just kind of hit the doldrums about two years ago, and she had done everything she could to spice it back up again. She tried booking vacations, sexy outfits, kidnapping him from work and taking him to a motel, any and everything she could think of. Finally he had broken, and one day after she had tried to get him drunk and come onto him wearing the sexiest lingerie Victoria's Secret had to offer, he confessed that he had fallen in love with someone else. And not another woman, either, but a man.

"I was devastated. I thought it was all my fault, like there was something so horribly wrong with me that would turn a man I had been married to for over ten years gay." She told of her failed attempts to "turn him back right again," using various methods, first inviting another man into their bed, but Brian had still paid very little attention to her. Then she told how she had experienced, though unplanned, a lesbian affair with someone we both knew, which she admitted that she had liked, but she still preferred men and the experience did little to help her understand where Brian was coming from. Of course, when I pressed her to find out who, she hemmed and hawed until I gave up on the subject, nevertheless resolved to visit it again someday (why would she tell me we both knew this woman if she did not intend to tell me SOME day?). Finally, she spoke of her ultimate acceptance of him as he was.