"I'm glad," Alma whispered.
They were alone in the house. Blanche and Donna were out swimming and their mother was still at work.
"Maybe," murmured Alma, her hand pressing onto her belly as if she had a pain, "we could could " she hesitated as if she was shy as if it was possible for her to be shy after the things they'd done "we could try," she finished.
"Try?" Cecil had stared at her blankly. Then his eyes had gone down to her hand, seen it dragging up her skirt, noticing that she was naked underneath. Her fingers probed through the growing foliage of hair toward her wet lips. "You you want me to kiss it? Suck?" he asked eagerly.
Alma's fingers slid in then out of her moist cunt. "Not suck," she said softly, her lips quivering with excitement, "push in." She looked at him, her face flushing, "push your little thing into my my little hole." She dropped her eyes from his face, then glanced up, adding, "my oozy little hole!"
Cecil's face expressed horror. "But but that would be like like a man would do!" he protested, "You wouldn't want a man's horrible thing in you!" He sounded shocked, outraged.
Alma breathed deeply, her finger worked more urgently. "Not not a man," she mouthed, "you you, Cecil it it would be all right with you."
He stared at her. His Alma… the one he adored so much… the one that he'd do anything for anytime anywhere! "Alma," he said very quietly, "if you want me to I will," he dropped his eyes as though he was betraying something, "if you want me to."
"I want you to!" breathed Alma. Then she stretched herself out on the bed, moving fast her flesh baring itself in a white blur of motion and lay back, her hands on either side of the hairy, dusky hole, her fingers parting the curling lips and said: "I'm ready Cecil get on me!" Her voice had become hard, commanding.
Cecil climbed on top of his sister, his smooth flesh trembling as he felt her belly undulating under his. He felt Alma's hand seize his limp prick drag it to the opening lips of her wet, ready cunt then press it inside. The lips closed around it, hugging the softness of it.
Alma hissed into his ear, "Move, Cecil move!" her breath panted from between her quivering lips, "fuck me " she moaned, "fuck my little hole, Cecil!"
He tried, wriggling himself up and down in a frenzy of frustration. His penis, soft, limp, and fragile, slipped out of the wet hole each time he drew back. Alma took it between her fingers, thrust it back in, becoming more tense, more hungry and more frustrated each time.
"Try harder, Cecil – " she sobbed, "try – please try!"
He tried but it did not help the too soft penis slid from the cunt. "It's too big, Alma," he complained, "your little hole's too big!"
"It's not that " she mouthed in sudden anger, "it's you you're too small… too damned small!"
Cecil looked at Alma's face in shock. She'd never talked like that to him before! It wasn't his fault, he told himself, Alma's hole was too big! Then he wondered… it had been nice, ishy nice, when his little thing slid into Alma's hole, and maybe… if he found a smaller hole… one which…
"All right, Cecil – get off me – " Alma's voice spewed into his ear. "Suck me " she mouthed, squirming herself into position, "Suck me, Cecil and really suck me good!"
He did as she told him, making her come giving Alma an orgasm a squiggly • an iggly squiggly but not enjoying it so much this time because he was thinking, wondering and worrying, what it would be like to squeeze his little thing into a little hole! A very little hole! An oozy, tiny, wet itty – hole!
Then he thought of his sister, Donna! Donna was nine years old Cecil was fourteen and maybe her little hole was tiny! It must be tiny, he told himself, because she was so tiny! Funny! He'd never thought of Donna that way. Maybe he'd try it sometime with Donna. She wouldn't mind, he told himself and she wouldn't stop him… She always did whatever he said. And, after all, she was only nine years old!
But Donna was ten when Cecil did it!
Chapter 8
Donna giggled, then bounced her curvy little ten – year – old body up and down on the settee. "Play at what, Cecil?" she asked, tossing her brunette hair exuberantly, "Play at what?"
"Wrestling," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "like we see them on TV like they do in the arena."
"I never played that!" the little girl stared at her brother, her eyes very wide.
"It’ll be fun!" Cecil's voice was husky, not high like it usually was.
"All right," said Donna, squirming herself onto the thick rug beside Cecil, "let's start."
She grabbed him, still giggling, and tried to pull his shoulders onto the floor. Cecil let himself slide over, his arm round Donna's waist, then his hand slipped down, caught in the elastic of her tiny panties, and seemingly accidentally wrenched until they tore. Donna rolled away from Cecil. "My panties!" her mouth made a big, round O "you've ripped my panties!"
"Sorry," said Cecil hoarsely, then he grinned, "Wrestlers don't wear panties take them off! They're in the way."
"Wouldn't that be awful?" Donna's guileless eyes looked shocked.
Cecil shook his head. "No it’ll be all right look," he went on eagerly, "I’ll take mine off, too!" He began to unfasten his jeans.
Donna giggled. "S'funny " she said.
Cecil suddenly stopped with his hand at the waist of his jeans. "Let's go upstairs," he hissed, though they were alone in the house. "Well wrestle on the bed it’ll be softer than the floor."
Donna gave a small shiver of excitement. "Okay," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, "we'll go on mom's bed it's big… much wider than mine!"
For a second, Cecil became very still. His mom's bed! The bed that… that he'd heard if not seen that man, Brad, push his horrible thing his prick into the blonde, beautiful body of his mom! His mom's bed! "All right," he said after a moment, "well wrestle on the big bed, Donna."
And they scurried up the stairs.
Cecil was fifteen years old when he took Donna upstairs to play "the wrestling game" on his mother's bed, but he had thought of it so many times since that night when Alma had told him he was "too damned small!" He'd always remembered that remembered it with a sense of hurt pride… that Alma could say that to him to hurt him after all that he did to her, for her! Alma! His adorable Alma!
He had thought of Donna, so lively, so filled with fun all the time… and, so tiny! He wouldn't be too small for her, he told himself. He shouldn't be too small for Donna! So he had waited for the opportunity: a time when they would be together in the house, alone and there would be a reason ^..he would find a reason… to get his hands on her cuddly little body, her soft little hole! Get his thing in her…
"Let's start." she panted with excitement when they stood beside the big double bed in his mother's room. "Let's play!"
"All right," Cecil's voice was low. He dragged his jeans down, watching Donna's face as he did it. She hesitated a moment, then reached under her short, brightly colored dress and slipped off her torn panties.
Cecil had a tantalizing glimpse of soft, brunette fuzz as the silk slipped down then he slid his fingers in the waistband of his own thin undershorts and glided them down.
Donna stared at him with curiosity. "You've got a pointed peeper," she murmured, and Cecil realized that it was the first time Donna had seen the 'little thing' that was so familiar to Blanche and Alma. The thought caused it to stiffen slightly. Cecil drew in his breath. It never did that without a reason! Sometimes it was hard for Alma to make it get hard at all. He recalled the time she used to spend, sucking, licking, titillating it to make him have an oozy an iggly.
"You haven't " he muttered to his little sister.
She blushed. "No – "
He stared at her as she stood still, holding her hand on the hem of her short dress, pressing it inward, over her untouched vagina. It should be a very little hole, he thought. He scrambled towards her quickly, seized her warm little body and tussled her onto the bed. They rolled together, wrestling, holding each other in a series of breathless maneuvers.