Chapter 6
Cecil let his tongue slide up from the wet slit onto the dankly growing hairs on the base of Alma's belly.
His lips slicked a moist path through the virgin forest, then paused to caress the tiny button of a navel before they came to a slithery stop between Alma's breasts. He lifted his head, looked into Alma's face imploringly.
She smiled down at him. The expression on her face was more like that of a mother looking at her child than a sister looking at her brother or a female at her lover!
"If you want to " she murmured softly. Then she took her breast between her fingers and squeezed it until the nipple protruded while her eyes beamed a warm ray of invitation to him.
Cecil reached up with his mouth, his lips closed greedily around the firming, rising nipple. He sucked it with wet sounds of pleasure.
Alma pressed her head back against the pillow, her eyes dilated with delight as delicious spirals of rapture eddied through her flesh. Her hand dropped casually onto her other breast. She felt its nipple tensing in sympathy with its twin.
"After you've sucked my other breast," she told Cecil, letting her hand slide down to the smooth softness of her thighs, "you can kiss me on the lips."
Her fingers felt the rippling muscles on the insides of her legs. Then her hand slithered upward, found her moist vagina curling open oozily.
"Here," Alma said softly, sliding her finger into the wetness, "you can kiss my lips here!"
The thrill throbbed through Cecil's body when he heard Alma's words. He sucked, gently chewed more eagerly, more hungrily on the swelling, tensing nipple. He would lick Alma suck her again! His lips worked busily on the nipple. He would be filled with Alma. The wetness from inside her, the sticky, sweet fluid would fill his mouth. His Alma! His mouth!
Oh, Alma! he moaned in silence, I love you! Why can't I be like you, Alma? Why?
Small groans melanged with the love – sounds as Cecil burrowed into Alma's breasts.
Until that night the magic night of their frantic drive to a wondrous happening under the trees Alma had seemed more like a mother to Cecil than his real mother, Joanne, did. He had enjoyed her handling of him dressing, washing him especially when she had soaped his small body, squeezing an exciting lather over his tiny penis until he screamed with delight, but his early feelings had been more of adoration than love.
As he grew older, the sight of his sister's soft and smooth body had caused him envy rather than any other emotion, and even when he became increasingly aware of the growth of Alma's breasts and felt a longing to suck them, grip them with his lips, it had been more the longing of a child for his mother than the lust of a male for a female.
But after his first, thrilling, never – to – be – forgotten experience of an orgasm when Alma's sweet lips had sucked his small penis with such excruciatingly satisfying results his attitude towards his sister had veered to an ambivalent desire to be like her and be part of her at the same time… To love her, and, by loving her, to experience the thrills that she received when his so – well – experienced tongue slicked into her vagina.
With Blanche, his sexual adventures had slid into a loose pattern. She knew of Alma and the things they did but her hot, ever – ready body still demanded that he satisfy her with a terrifying frequency. And in return, she sucked the sparse juice of joy from Cecil's small penis.
Cecil felt that with Blanche, he shared a sensually exciting partnership; but with Alma, he was her slave, her son, her toy, or her servant. He was the means of making her happy, giving her an orgasm, causing her to come with a wet violence that in itself was the only reward that he ever really wanted. If he was but an instrument that sublimated her sexual desires, he would be her adoring, loving instrument.
If he could not be Alma, he would be what Alma wanted him to be… If he could not be a girl, he would sense a girl's experiences, vicariously but sensually, through Alma's sexual reactions to his own manipulations.
Cecil had accepted this role with a joyous resignation until that night! The night when Alma had come to his room, propped herself comfortably on his bed, and permitted him to slick his saliva of love onto the sweating cavern of her ever – increasing lust. After, she had let him suck her breasts, smiled at the satisfaction he obtained by the sensuous feel of her nipples in his busy little mouth, then told him: "You can kiss my lips here!" And her eager finger had probed at the mouth of her cunt.
He had kissed the sweating mouth; his tongue had squirmed again into the hotness of her throbbing vulva. Then she had rewarded him given the small lapdog its tidbit by letting her head drop down onto his too soft crotch, placing her warm lips on his limp penis and drawing it into her wet mouth with loving, soothing movements holding his quivering young body with her arms, stretching her hands under his buttocks, drawing him near so that she could swallow more of his meager array of sexual apparatus.
Cecil had straddled Alma's face. His head was close to her still – wet cunt, and his buttocks were above Alma's eyes. She had pried the fleshy bottom wider open. Seeing Cecil's small star between the soft, girl – like cheeks, an odd quirk had made her touch it with her finger. A new tremor had run through Cecil's body.
Alma licked her finger, slicking a warm coat of saliva onto its pointed tip… Then she jabbed it into Cecil's anus, making him rear forward with a penetrating squeal.
Oh, Alma! he moaned to himself. You've never done that to me before! The strange new pleasure – pain flickered through the flesh on his buttocks, veered forward and touched the tip of his penis then enveloped it. His penis swelled involuntarily. "Alma!" he screamed, "Alma push push, please push!"
For a moment, Alma didn't understand then, as realization dawned on her mind, she thrust her sharp finger into his anal orifice and pushed it fiercely, cruelly… satisfyingly! Cecil spurted hotly into Alma's mouth!
She felt the burning wetness hit the back of her throat and she moved her head back instinctively. Her tongue moved onto the sticky, warm fluid, tasted it. It was different, stronger more bitter. Alma felt her eyes open wide with surprise. Cecil was never like that! She dragged her lips off Cecil's cock, moved his limp, unmoving body off her face, then wriggled down the bed until her face was close to his. "Cecil," she whispered urgently, "Cecil – what?"
He smiled at her. A tired but happy smile. "Alma " he slurred out her name, "Oh, Alma is that how it feels when you're a girl?"
"Cecil!" She stared at him, each short breath that whistled from her throat panted her disbelief. "Cecil " she half – moaned, "What do you mean?"
He smiled again. "Alma " he started again, speaking as though he was drugged, "Is that how it feels when a man's p p prick plunges into your c cunt?
Alma's face whitened, then she gasped painfully, "I I don't know, Cecil! I I've never had a man's prick pushed into my cunt!"
Cecil smiled sadly. "Neither have I, Alma " he murmured, "Neither have I!"
He was fourteen years old.
Chapter 7
Cecil felt the cold fear start in his belly then spread insidiously to all parts of his body. He rolled his eyes up fearfully and stared at the two youths above him. From where he squatted, the size of their bodies seemed distorted: their legs stretched up and up above Cecil's face and daylight squeezed through the dark Vs at the bottom of their torsos.
"Well, Cecil – sissy – " the bigger boy sneered. "You know Cecil the sissy, Joe?" he asked his companion.
"I sure do," Joe muttered. He crouched down, his face close to Cecil's. "He's the punk who queered it for me with his sister, Alma," he mouthed.