Hi, my name's Carrie Walker. If you've read my brother's story here on Literotica, you already know a lot about me. If you haven't read it – do it after you finish what I have to tell you. Either way, I'm pretty sure you will get your rocks off a few times. Michael made me promise to write about my sex life, so I started here. The problem I ran into is that I don't think like a guy. I think there's stuff that's more important than how big the cock is in my ass (although that is important at the time) or how it felt when I first went down on another woman (odd, but at the same time familiar, since you undoubtedly needed to know).
My point is simple – there's a lot of stuff that I've finally written down about my life that Michael skipped, but which I think affects us both. And, unfortunately, a lot of it won't stiffen your cock or wet your pussy. Skip that stuff if you must, but I think it's important if you really want to get to know me.
I was the first-born (by two minutes) of fraternal twins. Michael is therefore technically my younger brother, as I like to keep reminding him. We grew up in suburban New Jersey, raised by two exceptional human beings – Mom and Dad. I say exceptional because they were first generation hippies, who eventually got civilized. At least to all outward appearances. At home it was a different story.
We grew up thinking nudity was normal. It wasn't until the first time we had sleep over visitors that we were told that wasn't normal. I'd long been used to seeing my parents' and my brother's "junk", and the first time I saw them get covered up to go to bed was when my best friend Renee was caming to stay over. I didn't even know they owned pajamas, and that day Michael and I got our first sets of them.
Mom explained it shortly before Renee arrived. We were both surprised when she told us that some people were not only uncomfortable around naked people, but were actually offended.
"That's stupid!" Said Michael. "Everyone is naked under their clothes," he exclaimed, in a display of younger brother naivete.
"Yeah, but we get dressed when we have to leave the house. People don't walk around naked or they get in trouble." I informed him,
"Look, kids, our way of doing things is just one way. It doesn't suit everyone, and regardless of how you feel about it, it's on us to adjust. Just because they believe differently about things that you find normal doesn't make them bad people. They just believe differently. Got it?"
I, of course, nodded like the wise young woman I thought I was. Michael was a little slower coming to the same conclusion – but eventually he too gave in to the superior female logic.
Renee stayed over night. We all wore something all the time. It was fine. But that occasion marked one of many turning points for us.
The next one was the revealing of Michael as someone who submitted to women. That wasn't apparent until much later in life. The second was that it revealed to both of us that our parents were special people. And finally, it somehow was the point at which Michael and I knew we were special too, and could share things with each other we wouldn't share with everyone else. We both knew a secret. We could share more. Strange how things work, eh?
In any case we never wondered about the human body – we grew up knowing we were different and what those differences looked like And no bodily function was ever a problem. My parents threw a little party for me when I had my first period. I think Michael was jealous; when he told Dad about having his first hardon all he got was "congratulations." And then he and Dad went into another room to talk. When they came out he looked at me a little differently and smiled.
Then, of course, I had to go have my own one-on-one talk with Mom. Just because Michael did, even though I had no idea what they discussed.
"Mom," I said, walking into the kitchen where she was making dinner, "we need to talk."
She turned around to face me. "You know, people hear someone say that and usually assume it's the preface to bad news. Since I don't think you've been around that block, you should tell me what there is to talk about."i
"That's the problem! I don't know! All I know is that Michael told Dad he'd had a hard one – I saw it and it was stiff as a board – and they then had some private talk."
"Ah. I see. You think I have some sort of secret knowledge to give to you – and that Dad gave Michael some secrets to life as well. Is that it?"
"Yeah, I guess that's really it. Do you? Can you tell me?"
She laughed. "Honey, you are adorable. Predicable, but adorable none the less. And I guess that's a good place to start. Okay, here goes..."
And my Mom proceeded to spend the next hour talking about sex. About how she learned about it. About how, when she was growing up, Grandpa and Grandma never talked about it and never really answered her questions, and how she vowed to never be like that with her kids, and how Grandma hushed her up about her first period and like that. That was kind of shocking. Grandma and Grandpa are two of my favorite people in the world, but now I was finding out they weren't the best parents.
Mom then went into some depth and detail about how she learned about her body and sex "the hard way" as she put it. At that point she stopped.
"That's it?" I asked.
"No, there's plenty more. I'm just realizing why your Dad took Michael into another room. God, I love that man!"
"What?"
"When I got pregnant, we were still living as hippies. We didn't go near hospitals, so we really didn't know there were two of you, and we didn't have a clue about what sex our baby was going to be. When I was in labor, you were born first and in Dad's arms as I was still in the process of having Michael. I was in no shape to observe your Dad, but as I recovered and we got adjusted to life with two infants at once, there was something different about him. At first I thought it was just the lack of sleep. But then Grandma and Grandpa gave us a break and took you two for a week. We literally slept for two days straight, but your Dad still had that look about him, I knew I had been wrong."
"What was it?"
"It took a while – most men don't like to share their feelings, especially the ones they are ashamed of – but I made it safe for him to just say whatever there was. That was when I found out about his reaction to having a daughter. I want you to promise me that when I share this with you, that you keep it as our secret. Promise?"
"How can I promise that when I don't know what it is?" I asked, naiveley.
"Simple. Give your word. And give your word to keep your word."
Damn, my Mom was smart! "Okay, I promise."
"Good. What your Dad told me was that when he saw you, he instantly became ashamed that – in his words – he had taken advantage of lots of women in his life, and he didn't know how to prepare you for how guys could behave around women and sex without revealing what a creep – his words – he saw that he had been. Can you imagine? That man is the exact opposite of creep! But his love for his baby girl was an awakening for him."
"What kind of creepy things?"
"He told me about how, when he was first dating, he would do or say anything to get what he wanted from girls. How he thought he'd managed to talk them into letting him put his hands on them and in them. How he'd lied about some things. And he was scared that you would be someone who guys would do that to and didn't know what to do about that."
"What did you say?"
"First off, I just hugged him and held him. Then I let him know how much I loved him, and I promised him we would raise the two of you so that would never happen to either of you. Then I fucked his brains out for hours!"
"Mother!"
"Well, how better to tell someone you love them than to give yourself? At least, that's how I see it. Besides, I was getting my rocks off at the same time!"
"What does that mean, getting your rocks off?"
"Oh. Now I see why they say that talking about sex with your kids can be confronting! Carrie, have you heard the word orgasm?"
"Yeah, I've heard it in movies and on TV.'
"Good. When I say getting your rocks off, it's a socially acceptable way to talk about orgasms. With me so far?"
"Yeah. I got that the two things are the same. But what IS an orgasm?"
And she proceeded to tell me. In details I can't repeat since I was under 18 at the time. But by the time we were through, I was down with the concept, and had plans to find out for myself. That night. In the bathtub. And I did.
I learned all about "what boys want" as well, and that I was always the one who could say whether they were going to get "it" or not. And that, as soon as I turned 18, they were likely to get a lot of "it"!
In any case, the next time I saw Dad, I looked him in the eye and smiled. Then I told him I loved him, that I knew he loved me, he was forgiven for things he tried when he was my age, and that no guy will ever get me to do something I don't want. Because I know how to deliver a kick he won't get over! Dad laughed and cried at the same time and we hugged. Mom, watching from the door way, also laughed and cried as well. Michael, of course, just stood there and looked puzzled. Boys!
In any case, we raised inside a promise not to fuck anyone until we were over 18. Anything else was okay, but this was some strange "because we say so" rule that Michael and I both accepted.
