My Sister Jean
Chapter 15 The Pussy Barber
The behavior that my sister and I exhibited after our
last erotic encounter was a Xerox copy of every other time
we'd come together with the energy of two freight trains in
the night. We had pulled back a little and our old
approach-avoidance dance was played out one more time. Oh,
we didn't ignore each other and we certainly didn't engage
in the silent treatment, but there was a certain tender,
eggshells-tip-toeing around with us.
The morning after our last unplanned sexual tussle, I'd
awakened with a lightness and freshness of spirit, feeling
at ease with my self and the world and secure in the knowing
that I was, at base, an okay guy. I knew I was okay, but I
didn't know if Jean felt the same way about herself. I
worried about her psyche and wanted to touch base with her
as soon as possible.
That on my mind, I came down to breakfast just a little
later than usual as Jean was telling our Mom that she had to
drop off her car at the mechanic's and would she pick her up
after?
"I will," I offered, hoping to have the chance to have
some "plain talk" with Jean.
"You have an interview this afternoon you told me," Mom
offered. "How're you going to handle that *and* pick up
Jean?"
"Rats! I forgot," I said, slapping my forehead in
dramatic overstatement. "Sorry, Sis. Guess I can't."
"That's cool, Billy." She smiled one of those
exquisitely bright smiles and turning to Mom said, "You're
playing tennis at the club today, aren't you? You could
pick me up later, huh?"
"Sure, baby. Call me or leave a message at the club if
your plans change, okay?" Mom said as they both threw me a
warm smile and left at the same time.
And so it went for a couple of weeks. Little things
like that - small hitches kept occurring that seemed to
prevent us from spending anything more than a few minutes
with each other. Yet, Jean's upbeat attitude and positive
outlook on life, now even more evident, assured me that she
wasn't stuck in some emotionally gray place and my need to
reassure her gradually became less pressing.
In fact I'd almost forgotten it when one afternoon one
of my labs at school was canceled and I found myself
unexpectedly home early. As it turned out, Jean's writing
seminar had also been canceled. Her Prof. had been called
away and hadn't had time to get a sub.
I found her sitting, tilted back in a chair on the
redwood deck, her long tanned legs braced against the
railing, just looking off into the valley. She was wearing
a pair of yellow shorts that I remembered from last summer.
They were tight then. Atop that, she had on a sleeveless
pull over and I was immediately aware she wasn't wearing a
bra. For a long moment, I admired her prominent nipples
indenting her thin cotton shirt. I seemed always to be
aware of things like that. Then I looked at her lips,
half-open, a little pouty it seemed.
It had occurred to me that I'd seen my sister naked, or
nearly naked, in the past. That I'd touched her
intimately...she'd even once sucked my cock. We'd shared
our secrets with each other and knew we loved each other
deeply. But I'd never kissed her. Oh, I'd given her a
chaste peck on the cheek and once or twice on her lips, mine
all puckered up. But I'd never really kissed her.
Coming up beside her chair, I leaned over and looked
into her eyes and asked, "Would you mind if I kissed you?"
"On the lips, I hope?" She smiled up at me as I bent
over slowly, trying to keep eye contact.
She tilted her head back and with her lips slightly
open, offered her mouth to me. Trying to keep my own lips
soft, I touched hers, feeling her mouth open a little more
as we kissed softly. It was indescribably sweet. I felt as
though I were sinking into her. Flicking the tip of my
tongue between her lips, I felt hers brush mine and then
retreat.
Feeling a bit heady, I pulled up a chair next to her
and said, "Hi, kid. How's it goin'?" Last year she would
have had a fit if I'd called her "kid" but it didn't seem to
bother her today. Maybe it had something to do with the
kiss.
"Billy! That was *nice*. You've never kissed me like
that before!"
"Thanks. I liked it too. Before I settle, can I get
you anything?"
"Yes, would you get us a couple of sodas? I'm feeling
lazy and I'd love it if you'd wait on me. I'd like to be
pampered."
"Sure...and I won't dump the ice down your shirt
either."
She turned her head to smile at me and said, "Yes. I
remember."
Holding the glasses under the ice dispenser, I listened
to it grind away with its characteristic clunking noises and
recalled that I'd not had the chance to talk with her
intimately since the morning after our phone sex, the time
when she'd dropped her scented panties on my face.
Handing her the tall, cold glass, I said, "Jean, I'd
like to talk with you about something..."
She interrupted and said, "Yes. Yes we will...but
first I want to ask you something and I'm too nervous to
wait. Can I go first?"
With an exaggerated, longsuffering sigh, I said,
"Oh...all right, I guess."
There appears to be several Billys that live in my
head. One is the kid, spontaneous and genuine. Another is
the adolescent who's very concerned about looking hip, slick
and cool. He's the one who thinks constantly about getting
laid and he's convinced that he's got to *look* good to
score. It was that impatient teenager in me that was so
ungracious and pouting.
"I'll try to be quick, Billy. This is right up your
alley and I know you'll be glad I consulted with *you*."
It was as if Jean knew about the several personalities
that resided in my head and knew just what to say. The
adolescent brightened right up, thinking his manly knowledge
was being sought. "Sure, kid. Take your time," I said,
mentally slicking back my hair.
Even though no one else was home -- actually, no one
was within a half mile of us -- Jean leaned over, cupping
her hand at the corner of her mouth to whisper
confidentially in my ear, "Billy, uh...remember the uh...the
thong panties? The ones I bought at Victoria's Secret this
summer?"
As if I could forget! The image of Jean, modeling
those panties in the store, bending over...me, certain I was
going to be grabbed by the scruff of my thick red neck and
hauled off to jail -- hell, my thoughts alone could get me
50 years! -- did I remember? I've never forgotten. So, with
my eyebrows a little knitted, I replied, "No, what panties?"
For as long as perhaps one, or at the most, two
seconds, Jean looked at me with surprise and then seeing the
twinkle in my eye, she laughed in relief and said, "You
shit, you! Come ON, I'm serious."
"Jean, I might forget my name or where I live, but I'd
*never* forget those panties. Besides, you never *did*
model them for me," I added in a fake petulant tone.
Her eyes unfocused for a moment, as if remembering
herself, and then she replied, "Yes, I owe you. But as I
recall, something else came UP that day."
Palms up, I replied, "Am I an ungrateful wretch or
what?" And then glancing at her yellow shorts -- they'd
climbed even higher -- I asked, "Is *that* all you wanted to
ask?"
"No, silly. There's something else...kinda
embarrassing really." She was studying some invisible spot
on her thigh.
The *only* topic Jean had ever mentioned being
embarrassed over was something about sex. I loved it when
she was tentative that way, for it always seemed to lead to
sexy talk. I didn't try to bail her out. I just looked at
her expectantly, one eyebrow elevated. I'd once seen Cary
Grant do that in an old movie. Looked good on *him*.
She looked at me imploringly, as if I might read her
mind and answer her question. I remained silent. Very
uncharacteristic of me.
"Okay, okay...here's the deal," Jean finally rushed on.
"I remembered that I'd promised to model them for you, so I
got em out and tried them on again this morning..." She
hesitated.
"And?" I prompted, watching the color rise in her
cheeks, looking at her full lips, wanting to kiss her again.
"And they stick out," she gushed, almost as one word
and then again in a whisper, "I mean, my pubic hair sticks
out on the sides. I'd forgotten that part." And she
stopped as if the problem was now self evident.
"Yes?" I replied, making an impatient gesture with my
hand as if to say, And then what?
"Well, can't you see?"
"Actually I can't. But I'd love to," I added
hopefully, looking pointedly at her shorts pulled tightly
into the prominent crease between her parted thighs.
"The problem, dummy, the problem," she corrected me in
a vain attempt to guide my thinking.
At this point I was no longer thinking. My hind brain
had taken over and the sex addict who lives up there was
chortling, "Oh boy, here we go, Billy."
"Problem?" I asked. Now I wasn't pretending.
"Billy! For a bright guy, sometimes you are really
*dense*. If I'm going to wear those obscenely brief
panties, I can't wear them with a lot of pubic hair sticking
out, can I?"
"Is *that* what you wanted to ask?"
"No! That isn't it. I wasn't asking your opinion
about how good or bad it would look. I *know* that." Then
as if explaining to a dull kid, she went on in a reasonable
voice, "Sure, pubic hair is sexy, but not hanging out of
panties, or a bikini. It needs to be trimmed."
The sex-addict suddenly clapped his hands with
understanding and glee and said to me, "Oh boy, Billy! Oh
boy, oh boy. You're gonna score!"
The cool teenager said to Jean, "So, how can I help
you?"
Dropping her gaze, Jean murmured, "I've always done it
myself, but . . . but I thought maybe you might want to
help."
"You mean trim your pubic hair? Me? I get to trim
your *pubic* hair?" I asked with unrestrained
enthusiasm...a sudden and definite loss of being "cool".
"Well, yes...if you want to that is...but if you've got
. . ." and her voice trailed off as she looked at me, a
little apprehensive and looking incredibly vulnerable.
"God, Jean! I'm honored...I mean I'd be delighted
to...to help you." I didn't have to fake any sincerity or
enthusiasm with this affirmation.
She seemed almost to slump in her chair with relief.
How frightening it must have been to take such a chance with
her kid bother, to have stretched herself so much and how
relieved she appeared to be when I jumped with joy at the
opportunity.
"Oh, good! I've got everything upstairs in my room.
The scissors, the comb, and the clippers..."
Interrupting, I asked, "The straight razor?"
Jamming her hands into her crotch, she doubled over and
said, "Not a chance, Billy. Not even close. I saw you
shaving with that damn thing and I saw the nicks..."
Throwing up my hands in surrender, I said, "Kidding,
just kidding, Jean, honest."
Jean jumped up and ran into the house laughing and
squealing, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
I came in behind her just in time to see her long legs
disappearing up the stairs and by the time I got to her
room, she was standing in front of an open dresser drawer,
holding up a pair of panties...the thong panties in which
I'd once seen her...for what, seconds? She glanced over her
shoulder at me, still holding out the bit of fluff, and
smiled.
"Ready?" she asked.
For a moment, I couldn't speak. I just looked at her,
her spine arched, head thrown back, hips pushed forward and
her old, faded yellow shorts pulled tight across her butt
and into the crease of her butt. Her beauty and her sexiness
just stunned me. How could I be so lucky, I wondered?
"Billy, you ready to do this?" she asked again.
Snapping out of it, I grinned that silly who-me-grin
and said, "Am I ever!"
The next several seconds flew by so fast, I could
barely see what was happening. Without another word, Jean
unbuttoned her shorts and skinned out of them. Bare ass!
No panties. I saw that much and then she stepped into the
thong panties before any of this registered in my befuddled
mind. Turning, she stood, one hand on her hip in some
effortless model pose right out of some damn lingerie
catalog and said, "Ta-Dah!"
Then, turning en face, she placed the flat of her hands
on her lower belly and looking down at her self critically,
said, "See?"
Indeed I did! Her legs, already long, looked even
longer in those brief panties that climbed high on her hips.
The front panel, silk perhaps, was trimmed with a broad
border of lace, swooping in a low "U", ending just below the
top edge of her pubic hair. Through the lace and sticking
out the sides, I could see her auburn curls. The lacy
crotch was pooched out with the thick cushion of her pussy
hair.
Gesturing toward the single straight-backed chair in
the room, I said, "Sit there and let me check you out."
Now, no longer embarrassed, caught up in the adventure,
Jean sat in the chair with her butt at the front edge and
sprawled back. She extended her legs straight out and
spread wide, displaying the all-too-thin crotch of the
panties that failed miserably in containing her luxuriant
bush.
"See?" she asked again. Had she glanced at me, at my
bugging eyes, it's likely she would not have asked.
"Yes..." I gasped, "I see."
Pulling together some last vestige of control, I leaned
over and gave her another brief kiss and then sank to my
knees between her thighs and looked at her for a moment, as
if to appraise the magnitude of the problem. The "problem"
of course, was jammed down my pant leg.
"As I see it," I said, "there are a couple of options
here. How much we trim from the sides is dictated by the
width of the front panel of these panties..."
"So, what *are* the options?"
"Well, in no particular order, we can shape the top
part...you know . . make it a narrow band or stay with the
natural look."
"I vote for natural," she interjected and I agreed.
"What other options?"
"You need to decide if you want the length of the
remaining hair shortened, you know, made less bulky, or left
long."
"Okay, what else?"
It was getting very warm and I suspect I had beads of
sweat on my forehead. "Well..." I started to say and then
stalled. This was tough.
"Yes? Well what, Billy?"
"Uh...we need, uh...that is, *you* need to decide if
you want the hair on your pussy lips just trimmed short
or..." Then I paused again, took a breath and rushed on,
"...*shaved*." The "shaved" part came out in a rush and too
loud. I hadn't intended to give it such emphasis and I was
suddenly hotter. I knew my face was burning.
Jean relieved the tension by laughing and asking,
"Well, professor, what's your recommendation?"
"About?"
"About everything, guy. But let's start with the
shaving part."
With an audible exhale, I said something really cool...
something like, "Awesome, dude." Then, pulling my eyes away
from her crotch, just a foot away, I looked up at her. She
was smiling! Christ, *she* was relaxed and I was almost
hyperventilation!
"Yes, Billy. Go on."
I couldn't do it. I couldn't maintain eye contact with
her and keep my few meager thoughts organized. So I acted
out the best compromise I could put together. I looked up
at the ceiling as if contemplating a weighty topic, then
closed my eyes and said, "I'd trim the upper part back, but
maintaining its natural wedge shape but at the same time,
I'd shorten the length of the remaining hairs. De-bulk it a
little."
Then, taking another deep breath, I continued, still
without looking at her, "I'd first trim back all the public
hair on your labia, say below your clitoris, back to
your...uh...your back bottom."
"Back bottom? You mean my ass hole, Billy?" She
laughed that soft, tinkling laugh that assured me everything
was okay.
"Yeah, ass hole, that's what I mean. And then...I'd
shave the lips." I heaved a big breath and asked, "So there,
what'ya think?
"If that's the way you want it, Billy, then that's the
way I want it."
Once again, the complexities of life, largely perceived
by my mind, were reduced to a simple and uncomplicated
statement. "If that's the way you want it..." The need to
rationalize was passed. My desire to negotiate a scene the
way I wanted it was just put aside by her simple acceptance.
We didn't speak. She looked at me and I looked at her,
or more accurately, I stared at the junction of her long tan
thighs and the brief, lacy crotch of her panties, at her
rich auburn curls sticking out from the sides.
Finally, in a soft voice, I said, "Stand up, Jean."
Without replying or asking why, she stood up, hands at
her sides, looking down at me as I met her gaze over the
twin prominence of her breasts, nipples now sharply visible
through her pull over. I reached up and hooked my fingers
into the elastic waist band over her hips, paused, savoring
the moment, looking into her eyes. Here was my beautiful,
incredibly sexy sister, standing for me as I was about to
pull down the thong panties she'd purchased at my
suggestion. I'd spent half my life it seemed, trying to
catch a glimpse up her dress or up the pant leg of her
shorts...that I might see just for a moment, which was now
right here, mere inches away from my nose.
My fingers still hooked, I leaned forward and nuzzled
the prominent, cushy mound of Jean's pussy hair, inhaling
her fragrance. My little sniff was the loudest thing in the
room at that moment and it jangled my memory of all the
times I'd attempted to snitch her panties from the
soiled-clothes hamper. It had come down to this...all my
fantasies and machinations had come down to this moment.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I pulled down her panties, down
past the top of her thick bush, now curling, uncovering her
sex as it curved back into her crotch, her labia barely
seen. The thong, caught in her ass cheeks, held up a
moment, and then fell with a little elastic snap. Down past
her knees, down to her ankles and then, one foot at a time,
she stepped out of them
The air was thick with her scent. More for the erotic
impact than the smell of her, I held them to my nose as I
looked at her. She smiled and wrinkled *her* nose and still
didn't say anything.
"Sit, " I said, again softly.
She sat, butt on the edge of the chair, back straight
and knees together. I looked at her with a quizzical frown
and made an opening gesture with my hands; she opened her
legs and then rested her hands on her parted thighs. I
looked between her legs again and remembered the first time
I'd seen her pussy as she'd peed on the dusty trail out of
Fourth of July Lake. While I'd seen her pussy a couple of
times after that, it was the first time that was so strong
in my mind, so sweet and so indelible.
Kneeling between her knees, I reached out and touched
the skin of her abdomen, just below her belly button and
then traced a soft line down through her curly pubic hair,
just missing her hooded clit, and then down the center,
barely touching the hairs that mostly obscured her labia,
now opened a bit by her spread legs.
She gasped but didn't speak and didn't move.
"Ready?" I asked the rhetorical question.
She just smiled so I asked again, "Ready, Jean?"
As always, I was trying to engage Jean in conversation
about some sexy topic. She wasn't buying. She just smiled
broader and nodded her assent.
I picked up a long comb that had both coarse and fine
teeth and then ran the coarse end through the hair on her
lower belly, slowly combing out the tight curls and tangles,
each stroke getting closer to her clit. She didn't speak
but said something like, "Hmmmm..." as she spread her legs
a little wider, opening more the lips of her pussy, now
swollen and wet.
Holding the comb vertically, I combed her labia's hair
away from center, toward her thighs, pulling her lips open
still more, making a moist, sucking sound. This was
entirely new territory for me. I'd never seen Jean's pussy
so close and so open before. I was excited and hard, yet
aware of our elevated plateau of awareness and didn't want
to rush anything. So, continuing my placing a "part" in the
middle of Jean's cunt, I combed and combed, watching the
further eversion of her lips, and the pooling of her
secretions at the bottom of her slit.
Her thick white secretions pooled, filled and spilled
over, running down into the crack of her ass and she moaned
again. As I combed the pussy hair near her clit, she
shuddered, and then spoke for the first time in minutes,
"That's okay...I'm okay...keep going."
Jean's clit was poking out, a tiny girl hard-on,
peeking out from her clitoral hood. I was mesmerized and
moved closer yet, initially to inhale her fragrance, but
when my hot breath washed over her clit, she shuddered again
and moaned, "Yes."
I opened my mouth and slowly exhaled my hot breath on
her pussy again and again. She began to sag, her back
falling against the chair and her hips sliding forward
another inch as her hands slipped between her thighs,
pushing them farther apart, opening herself to me.
All conscious thought gone, unplanned and unthinking, I
reached out with the tip of my tongue and licked her pool of
secretion at the bottom of her cunt. She jerked, her legs
hitting the sides of my head for a moment as she expelled a
whoosh of air, and then she snapped them opened again,
slouching still farther.
As if in a dream. I again reached out with my tongue
and slowly pulled it up one and then the other or her labia,
closer and closer to her clitty.
She hissed, "Yes-s-s-s!"
I leaned into her crotch and with partially an open
mouth, kissed her clit as softly as I could as she suddenly
hunched her pelvis into me, driving her cunt into my mouth.
I softly sucked her clit with my lips as she moaned and
moaned, "Ungh...ungh...ungh..."
I nursed on her, sucking her lips, sucking her clitty,
tonguing her slit, tasting her, pulling her copious
secretions up to her clit. I wasn't aware of another thing.
My world had narrowed down to this feminine trough in front
of me. I was drowning in her scent and her moans of
pleasure.
I thought she said something like, "In me," so I
slipped a finger into her vagina as I continued to suck and
lick her pussy.
The correctness of my interpretation was given evidence
by her crying out, "Yes! Yes! Yes! More! In and out! Oh
God, oh God, oh God!"
Jean's ass had slid off the chair and she was
supporting her lower body with her widely splayed legs while
her upper torso was balanced rigidly on the seat. Grunting,
moaning, she repeatedly heaved her crotch into my face.
Holding her hips in my hands, as if holding a large slice of
watermelon, I mindlessly mouthed her pussy, licking her slit
and attempting to tongue fuck her pussy as she repeatedly
thrust against me.
Jean started a low moan that built in intensity,
melding into a rising scream as she exhorted me, "Billy,
fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." She grabbed my head in her hands
and pulled my face tighter to her pussy, hunching against
me.
Air hunger began to build, forcing me to bob my head,
breaking the suction that I might gulp another lung full
before diving again into the center of her wet, swollen
desire.
As if a trip wire had been triggered, suddenly she
scissored her thighs about my head, trapping and squeezing
me, almost shutting off all sound. Perhaps more by
vibration, I heard her scream, "Billy, I'm cumming."
Moments later we crashed to the floor. I was gasping
for air, my face totally wet with Jean's juices, my head
still between her legs. For long minutes no one said
anything. I couldn't. I couldn't *think* much less speak.
I was stunned and overcome with the intensity of it all.
A little while later Jean said, "Billy?"
"I think I'm dead," I mumbled.
"Billy, are you going to trim my pubic hair or not?"
"Will you kiss me again, Jean?"
