She decided to find out in the simplest way, experiment.
Unaware of the thoughts going through her brother's mind, she remained where she was under the covers, only moving herself around a bit in the kindly warmth to get into a more comfortable and practical position… on half-bent knees that hooked the sole of her right foot up under his left armpit, resting on his stomach, stretched over him, her left arm on his left thigh. She wished she could see down here… should have brought her flashlight, but another time for that. Maybe her fingers, if she kept them moving about him all the time, would see for her. With one plump little fist, she thumped his right leg, willing him to spread it away from her so that she'd have more room and, primal communication, he immediately parted his legs, leaving all his sex to rest, dangling, between them. Her hot, quick breath warming his hair and the base of his cock, she began her blind examination, not knowing what she did when her golden, silky hair floated and dragged about the tender, sensitive skin inside his thighs, and her proud young nipples scored through the black coiled hair of his belly.
Maryon let both her warm soft hands coddle and cradle his dick, letting her thumbs tell her of the cracked, leathery sides of his balls – creased and seamed at first, and then magically transforming to slippery smooth satin as she cupped them. She circled his cock with her finger and thumb and discovered she could now do this easily, though before, when it was hard, it was too big for her. The poor thing was bent and lax like an old piece of rubber hose. Commiserating with his droopy dolly, she put her lips to it and kissed it, running its short, squat length between her lips with her fingers beneath it. To her surprise she felt it quiver against her, and in a moment she could feel… well, what felt like little rivers running crookedly along just beneath the skin. And the whole thing was growing again. Excitedly, as his blood engorged his veins, she took it in both hands, firmly, and squeezed… it was just like pressing paint from a tube at school – except that this was being filled, not emptied! Eagerly she fumbled till she found his foreskin, surprised to find it warmly moist on the inside, and slippery… like a banana. Carried giggling away by her thought, she pressed her full, plump little lips over his cock's end and slid the rest of his foreskin back with her teeth until they caught behind his rim. Mmmmhhhh! A taste like cheese. And a smell… well, it wasn't quite like swe… perspiration – "Horses sweat, people perspire, dear!" – but something like it. And something like, like 'off-of-cloves', Mommy uses sometimes when she cooks…
In the hot, airless confines of the bed, Maryon, her face flushed, her breath heavy, her trembling body excited, sucked the magic rod, now back to its former strength and length… kissed it, admiringly caressed it, rubbed it against her cheek, felt it throb and quiver to her touch, squeeeeeeezed it, tried to bend it, felt strange jerks in it, marveled at the way the skin of his balls flinched and their contents flex, thrilled to the trembling of his own loins…
… and was hurtfully startled as once again she was thrust from him, bared as he flung the bedclothes off them, shocked as he reached under his pillow, ignoring her, wrapped something white about the head of the column of flesh that stuck up from his hips and, gasping, huddled over himself.
Maryon crouched on her knees, her hand to her mouth, trying not to cry out with alarm. Was he hurt? Had she done something wrong to him? Would he punish her again? He continued to squeeze his cock, and she saw that he had a handkerchief around it. He was breathing heavily but, in a minute, with a last squeeze and pull at himself, he lay back on the pillow and looked at her.
Exhausted, spent, ashamed at having shot his load in front of her, suddenly scared that he'd frighten her with his sudden roughness, and that she would go running off crying to their parents, Mike thrust the soiled handkerchief under the mattress and reached for his sister.
"It's okay, Sis," he whispered in her ear. "You did just right. That's what happens when men… well… Hey, are you okay now?"
Reassured, she nodded against his bare shoulder. He gave her a gentle kiss. "Look, I reckon that's enough excitement for one day, for you. Uh… while you're still warm, before you catch cold, put your nightgown on and go back to bed, eh?"
A bit disappointed, feeling somehow cheated, Maryon nodded again, hugged him once, got off the bed, slipped into her pink nightgown, looking and fee ling forlorn in the cold moonlight, and picked her way over to the door.
"Hey," he whispered after her. "We'll do this again, Sis. And don't forget to be quiet, and lock your door after you again. Don't tell the folks, okay?"
She ran back to him and threw her slim arms about him. Her brother was so big and good, and she wouldn't hurt him for the world. But… that – that cock! – was a funny, frightening thing, if it made him act like that…
Silently the little figure slipped off into bed and her dreams.
ELEVEN YEARS OLD
"You mean to say you've never heard of Truth, Dare and Promise? You Yanks don't know nothing. C'mon, I suppose I'll have to teach you…"
It was the summer of '62. Maryon had made one firm friend at school, but even to Karen she'd made no mention of her exciting games with Mike. Though, lately… for some months in fact… he'd paid little attention to her. She'd suspected for some time that he was enjoying himself with his new girl friend, that Riva Kamparsky who treated her, on the few occasions she deigned to come over to the house, like a little kid. One day she'd show them all how grown up she was… how much of a girl… how much she knew about making a boy happy, even if she was little and young.
But so often had she gone to sleep thinking such thoughts, and so commonplace had they become to her childish, still largely unformed mind, that they'd sunken deep into her, and were now unvoiced and unnoticeable, as quiet and secret as a cancer. She certainly wasn't consciously aware of them as, this hot, bright day, she sat with the others in the barn next to stables of the Matherly Ranch.
Matherly's wasn't a working ranch, more of a rich man's hobby and tax loss. Glenville was too close to, and too much a part of the great Metropolis for a rough and ready acreage to be farmed, or much livestock raised. But the estate of the Matherlys was as secluded and spread out as their money could make it, with green pasture land for the string of horses, and comfortable quarters for them away from the main house. The barn was full of straw, dried and in bales or, these broken, scattered thickly over the floor, while upstairs the remnants of last winter's hay still smelt sweetly from over the edge of the high loft and suffused the close air of the darkened building, with only occasional shafts of sun sliding through cracks and between the tall, all-but-closed doors.
"You Yank kids probably know it as something else… another name." The speaker was Colin – Colin something. He was English, visiting thirteen-year-old Sylvia Matherly for the summer vacation… the 'hols' as he called it. From his lofty height of fourteen years he seemed to regard the rest of them, Karen, Maryon's twelve-year-old friend from school, her 'boy friend', the same age as Sylvia… Derek, his friend Johnny, a year younger, and Sylvia herself, currently 'dating' Johnny, and Maryon the youngest at eleven, with a considerable amount of condescension somewhat boosted by his exotic position of being 'Sylvia's English cousin'.