Besides, from the looks I was getting from Darlene and Anita and especially from Cousin George (along with a few snide remarks), I had an idea being with the family on the beach would be like running the gauntlet through a couple of lines of well-armed Cherokee braves. I was in no shape to take a ribbing just then, though ordinarily I can handle myself well enough in the comeback department.
Also, I was suffering what one of my teachers calls a “crisis of conscience.” I knew I had committed what the Bible calls a mortal sin… not just with one of my sisters but with two of them. And more than once in each case. And the hell of it was, every time I looked at either Darlene or Anita, I got a hard-on. I wanted more and so did both girls… even though we knew it was wrong.
So, when I finished cleaning up I didn't go to the beach. Instead, I walked away from the house, along the narrow path through the yucca and the sparse scrub pines to the shack. This was a run-down old adobe hut with a leaky roof and two crummy rooms with a half-busted partition between them. None of us knew who had built it or lived in it or maybe died in it… it was simply there when Dad inherited the island from his Irish-Mexican great-grandfather. We kids had used it as a playhouse ever since we began summering there… but as we got older, we more or less forgot about it. It was the first time I had been there all summer. We had furnished it with castoffs from the main house and one summer Darlene and Anita had decorated it with a lot of bright decals and psychedelic posters and put bright calico covers over the ratty tables and chairs. There was an old rump-sprung sofa in the bigger room and a nailed-together busted-down bed in the smaller back room.
I went in there and lay down on the bed and tried to assemble my mixed-up thoughts and feelings and decide what to do with the strange situation I found myself in. But every time I put my thoughts in any sort of order, they'd get muddled with visions of the way Anita's cunt had felt in the water out there on the reef, and the terrific sucking and fucking sessions I had enjoyed with Darlene until sunrise. After a few minutes, I guess I fell asleep.
I was wakened some time later by a mixture of strange sounds that seemed to come from the ramshackle partition right against my left ear. At first, I was so drugged with sleep that I thought the broken wall itself was talking to me… then I realized the sounds were coming from the sofa right on the other side of the partition. The springs of the old sofa were creaking and it sounded as if someone were sobbing softly in time with the creaks. I listened for a while, trying to figure out who it was… then I sat up and pulled back a bull fight poster that covered a gap in the partition and peeked through.
The light was dim, of course, but I could see all right. Francie, my fourteen-year-old kid sister, was lying there on her back with tears running down her cheeks. She had taken off her faded little blue bikini and tossed both parts over a chair beyond the sofa. She had her knees apart and was diddling herself with both hands digging into her tiny cunt. It was the first time I had ever watched a girl jerk off, and it was interesting, so I kept looking.
Little Francie was something to look at even if she was just a kid. She had long heavy golden hair streaked with platinum by the sun, and her face, even screwed up with crying, was even prettier than Anita's… and that was saying something. She was a beautiful bronze color all over, and her compact little body looked like an overripe bud about to burst into full blossom. She was chunky with what I knew was baby fat that would go away in a year or two, and her plump little breasts were just beginning to rise from her chest, with nipples starting to jut. Even doing what she was doing, she looked as sweet and innocent as a cherub in some old religious painting.
I opened my mouth to say something to her… I loved Francie the way I love all my sisters, especially lately… but then she did something that stopped me cold. She lifted her hands from her tiny cunt and went on gently rubbing her mound above it with her left hand while she reached for something on the far side of her body. I could look right down into her crotch from my point of vantage. Her cunt didn't seem to have any lips at all, like Darlene or Anita's, but the tiny opening was dripping wet with the same white fluid I had seen on Anita's and on Cousin George's cock when he finished fucking her on the beach. I sensed that she had been diddling herself to make some pussy juice, and I wondered why. But not for long…
Her right hand reappeared above her body, holding a thick kitchen candle. She had stopped her crying and was holding it up, looking at it. Then she put it to her tiny mouth and licked the flat top of the wax cylinder, took it in both hands and placed the tip with its drooping bit of wick end, right against her cunt. She pushed and cried out when it failed to get past her portals. Then she planted her feet wide on the couch and lifted her rump and bridged, trying to force it inside… but again she failed, sobbing aloud in bitter frustration and crying, “I'll never make it.”
I had to do something. I said, “Not with that thing, darling… and if you do, you'll tear yourself to pieces.”
She dropped the candle as if it had suddenly grown red-hot. She lay there as if paralyzed and then said, “Jeff… oh, Jeff!”
I said, “It's all right, Francie. I was asleep.”
She said, “But you never come here anymore… nobody does except Jean and me, and Jean's with Missie back at the house.”
I said, “Well, I did today… and I guess it's a good thing. You could have hurt yourself with that candle. Why did you take such a thick one, anyway?”
She said, her lovely little face petulant, “Yesterday, when Darlene and I were watching you and Cousin George with Anita, I saw how big you were… and I was afraid I couldn't hold either of you.”
I said, “Aren't you a little young for that?”
She looked at me through the hold in the partition, and said, “Bullshit! I'm the only virgin left in my class in school. Do you think I want to be an old maid?”
She was up squatting on her knees so we could talk eye to eye. She was like a plump little plum, just waiting to be devoured by anyone with nerve and sense enough to pluck her from branch and stem.
As for me… my dong was up and straining against the front of my shorts so hard I had to look down and make an adjustment. When I looked back again, Francie had vanished. Then I heard her laughing softly behind me like some cherub who had joyously sold out to the devil. Her beautiful brown skin was gleaming with the sweat she had worked up in her efforts to lubricate her pussy and her bright green eyes went from my face to my jock as I swung her way. She pointed at it with a plump forefinger, and said, “That's better than any candle…” and then she was all over me.
I knew this was wrong but it was as if I were hypnotized… I couldn't have moved to fight Francie off if I'd wanted to… and the hell of it was that I didn't want to. From the instant her flesh touched mine, I was like a plastic doll in the hands of that adorable cherub.
Anita had expressed desire for me yesterday afternoon when she took my cherry so deliciously in the Gulf water on the reef offshore. Darlene had been so hungry for my cock that she had been unable to keep herself from sucking as well as fucking me last night. But both of their desires, laid end to end or rolled up together, were small compared to the lust of this sex-hungry, love-hungry child.
When I was able to tear my lips free from hers for an instant, I cried, “Christ, honey, you're too young.”
She said, “Juliet was only fourteen.”
I said, “But Juliet didn't fuck her own brother.”
She said, “I saw what you did with Anita yesterday… and she's not even your real sister.”
I gave up… short of knocking her unconscious, there wasn't much else I could do. By then she had pulled my trunks off… with some difficulty, thanks to the size of my pole… and was staring at its erect length with undisguised, openmouthed wonder and delight.