“Have you masturbated?” Megan asked.

“What?” I answered incredulously.

With a cheeky furrowed expression, my sister shook her head and asked, “Have you masturbated? You know, stroked? Jacked off?”

“I knew what you meant, Sis,” I hissed, closing her bedroom door. “Keep it down. Mom is home now.”

“Sorry,” she whispered with a grin, “Well?”

“Why the hell are you asking me that?” I grumbled, “That’s too personal.”

“So you have,” she grinned, “That’s good,it helps.Its nothing to be embarrassed about. Everybody does it. Hell, I did it in the bathtub after you covered me in cum. Too personal, my ass.”

“Shhh,” I hissed, looking at her door. “Keep it down.”

Rolling her eyes, my sister asked, “How many times since we fooled around last night?”

Looking down at my feet, I felt a red wave of embarrassment. Megan was getting too personal. Yeah, she touched my dick and made me come all over her face and tits, but this was still too new for my young mind to process. Hell, she was eight years older than me.

Truth was, I couldn’t get the image of what we did out of my head. I struggled to admit it to myself, but my big sister was sexy as fuck. Yeah, it was a little weird that she stroked my dick in the bathroom last night, but damn if it didn’t feel good. Even still, I was still a bit shy about jacking off.

“Come on, Terry,” she goaded me, “Twice? Three times? How many times?”

“Four, okay,” I admitted, “Happy now?”

“Four?” she asked me, her eyebrows shooting up and her eyes widening. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I said in embarrassment, “So?”

“Is it sore?” She laughed, “I bet it’s sore as fuck.”

“No, it’s not sore,” I countered. “It’s not like I went wild and did it all in a row.”

 Her next question threw me, “Were you thinking about me when you stroked it? I bet you were. That would be such a turn on. Just. So you know, I was picturing you when I did it in the bath. I was thinking of how good that big dick would feel in my pussy. Was that what you were picturing? Fucking me?”

“So what if I was,” I rebutted, “I mean, after the way you’ve been acting.”

“Whatever do you mean?” She smiled.

“You know what I mean,” I shot back a little too loudly.

“Shhh,” Megan teased again, “Mom's going to hear you. She will know you’ve been jacking off, thinking of fucking your big sister.”

“Fuck you, Megan,” I whispered. “This is all your fault, anyway.”

“Okay, okay,” she said calmly, holding up her hand for a truce. “I’m sorry, Terry. I was just having fun. Besides, you enjoyed it. Didn’t you?”

I shrugged my shoulders looking at my feet again. “I mean, yeah. It felt good. Totally wrong, but good.”

She walked closer and played in my hair with her fingers, “Nothing wrong with having fun, little brother,” she smiled. “Sure you aren’t sore?”

Tilting my head to get away from her annoying fingers, “I’m not sore. I’m sixteen, remember? I jack off all the time,” I said a little faster than I was thinking, “I mean. Fuck sake, Sis, you know what I mean.”

“Like I said, Terry,” she whispered sexily, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Really, I do it all the time. If you want to, we can do it together.”

Her body, still etched in my memory, played like a movie in my mind. Every sexy detail was brought back from last evening: The glistening of her fingers, wet and slick with her sex juices, sliding deep into her pussy. The thin strip of hair, trimmed neatly above her sex. The way her nipples grew pointy when I felt her fingers wrap tightly around my hard shaft. I was rock hard as soon as she suggested we masturbate together. 

“I can see that you want to,” Megan whispered, her eyes on my growing bulge. 

Of course I wanted to. She was teasing me and I was getting hard. Yeah, she was my sister, but at the same time, she was hot as fuck. Long dirty blond hair with a fresh perm. Long legs and a lithe body like one of those hippy archaeologist girls that would be at home in a tent on the side of a snow-covered mountain or in a ditch in an Egyptian dig site. 

“Right now?” I asked nervously.

“No,” my sister shook her head, “Tonight after Dad gets drunk and Mom goes to work.”

I didn’t answer. Quietly, I stood in front of her, my heart pounding and my head spinning. She knew I was hard. Not knowing what to say, I opened her door and walked to my bedroom to masturbate again. My cock lead the way like a bloodhound tracking a fleeing bandit. 

Once behind my locked door, I decided not to jack off, ‘Better to save it for tonight,’ I thought. Still, my mind was playing over the night before and if my sister was serious about later tonight. I needed to get my mind off it, so I tried working out with some dumbbells that I kept under my bed. My dick remained hard. I really wanted to jack off.

‘Maybe I’ll go for a run,’ I thought, ‘Surely it’ll go away if I go outside and jog around.’ So, after putting on some very loose fitting shorts, I yelled, “I’m going for a run,” to my mother as I passed a kitchen. Her attention was on some dumbass daytime television show, so she didn’t notice the boner leading my charge, I thought. I tried to do stretches on the porch, but my dick kept poking out from the leg of my shorts.

The run was supposed to calm my dick and get my mind off my sister. It was supposed to, but two miles in and my dick was still rigid and she was all I could think about. The dirtiness and the sexiness of what had happened kept playing in my head. I knew that I wasn’t supposed to think about my sister in this way, but damn if I couldn’t stop myself, ‘Maybe,’ I thought, ‘I should just find a place to hide and just go ahead and masturbate.’

After another two miles, I slowed to a walk, my cock finally dropping to half erect. Still bulging but not nearly as uncomfortable, I turned around to walk the mile and a half back to my house, “Hey, Terry,” called James Craft, one of my friends from school, “I saw you jogging.”

“Hey, man,” I answered, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said, walking closer, “Bored as fuck. Woah. What the fuck, man?”

“What?”

“That,” he said, stopping in his tracks several feet from me and pointing at my crotch, “You got a fucking boner.”

“Shit,” I hissed, trying to adjust it, “Sorry. It’s my fucking sister.”

“Your sister?” He asked, shocked, “What the perverted fuck?”

I blurted that out without thinking and needed to do some damage control. “What? No,” I spat, “She brought a friend home with her for the holidays,” I lied.

“Is she hot?” My friend asked.

“She walked in on me in the shower last night and watched me dry off and get dressed,” I answered. 

“But is she hot?” He repeated.

“Fucking smoking hot, man,” I confirmed.

“How old is she?” he begged, a huge grin on his face.

“I don’t know. Twenty-four or twenty-five, I guess,” I shrugged, my dick rigid again, “She jacked me off.”

“No way,” he laughed.

“I blew all over her,” I added, “Her face and tits. Everything. I’ve had a boner ever since.”

“Well, I can’t feel sorry for you,” he laughed, “I got one now. Twenty-four, huh?”

“Man, cover that thing up,” I said of the tent in his shorts, “Yeah, twenty-four or twenty-five I guess. My sister’s age.”

“You gotta let me come over, bud,” he begged. “I gotta get in on this.”

“Fuck you man,” I said, “I ain’t sharin’. Really, cover that up, it’s getting bigger.”

“You ain’t gotta share,” He goaded. “I’ll fuck your sister. You can have the friend to yourself.”

“Fuck you, asshole. You ain’t fucking Megan.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, “Your mom then. She’s a hot fucking milf too.”

“Fuck you. Go fuck your own mom,” I laughed.

“I’ve already fucked her,” he joked. “You lucky bastard.”

“I gotta go,” I waved. “See ya at school in a couple of weeks.”

“See ya, you lucky fuck.”

All of that time jogging to get rid of my persistent erection, and it didn’t work. Not only did I still have a raging boner, but I also gave my friend an erection. I tried thinking of my gramma, even my grampa, but nothing worked. 

Sneaking in the front door, I skitted off to the bathroom for a cold shower. I hoped that would do the trick. It was only seventy-five degrees outside, so a cold shower was going to be doubly effective. Yeah, in Mississippi, seventy-five is pretty normal for a December day. 

“Are you going to take a shower?” Mom asked after knocking on the door.

Already naked, I answered, “Yes ma’am.”

“I need to use the bathroom, Terry,” she called.

“I’m already undressed,” I answered, “Can’t you use your bathroom”

“Your dad backed it up again,” she squirmed, “It’s an emergency. Just wrap a towel around your ass and step out for a minute.”

“Fuck,” I grumbled under my breath, “I aught to walk out there naked and show her my woody,” I whispered, shaking my head, “I’ll be out in a second.”

Opening the linen cabinet, I found a towel and wrapped it around my waist. There was no way to hide the fact that I was fucking hard as a nail, so I tried to keep my back turned as she passed me going in. Giving me a knowing smile, mom closed the door with, “I’ll be quick.”

“Please,” I called through the locked door, “ I don’t want the hot water to run out.”

“Buddy, you’re going to need a cold shower for that thing,” she said jokingly.

“What thing?” I asked innocently.

“That boner, Terry,” she laughed, “I saw it when you left and again when you got back. She must be hot, huh?”

“Mom,” I yelled with embarrassment.

The door opened when I heard the flush of the toilet. “You know what works better than a cold shower?” She asked, trying to be clinical, “Just go ahead and stroke it out. Just don’t do it in a towel again.”

“Mom,” I yelled in embarrassed disbelief, locking the door behind me. She was right, of course, but I really didn’t want to blow a good load in her precious towel, or better, in her panties, when I had the possibility of what my sister offered later. 

Another knock on the door as I hung my towel on the hook. “Not in my panties either,” my mother yelled through the door with a laugh.

“Mom, please,” I yelled back. She could probably see my face flush red with embarrassment through the damned door. I hadn’t realized that she had known that I would sometimes do that. 

‘Fuck it,’ I thought as I stepped under the cold stream of the shower. The effect was almost immediate. My dick wilted so quickly that it almost shocked me. Goosebumps covered my body, and I shivered uncontrollably until I added hot water to the shower. I figured that since my boner was a goner, it wouldn’t hurt. 

Relieved, oddly, that my dick wasn’t hard, I dried my body and wrapped the damp towel around my waist. Deodorant and a quick combing through my hair and I walked into the hall to get to my bedroom. I should have guessed that it wouldn’t be so easy. Mom was walking from the master bedroom and said, “It looks like the shower worked.”

“Mom, please.” I said, gripping the towel, “It’s bad enough without you trying to embarrass me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,son,” she pouted, “You weren’t embarrassed running all over town with it shining like a spotlight.”

“I was trying to get rid of it,” my face bright red, “I don’t think anyone saw.”

“I got three phone calls from the lonely neighbor ladies,” she teased. “Everybody saw it. Cheyenne Wheatley, next door wants you to come clean her pool, but only after her husband goes to work.”

“Well, it’s gone now,” I said, nervously feeling a twinge in my loins. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“She must be a real hottie,” Mom continued, delaying my escape.

“C’mon, Mom,” I pleaded, my cock already beginning to swell again, “I need to get dressed.”

With a teasing smile, she said, “ Okay, okay. I’m only picking at you. You better go. He is pitching a tent again.”

Mom turned and let me off the hook, but walking away, she added, “You can use my panties if you want, I guess.”

“Mom,” I yelled, more mad than embarrassed now. She waved over her shoulder with a laugh as she walked to the living room. Quickly, before anyone else saw my newly erected boner, I retreated to my bedroom. Closing the door, I dropped my towel on the floor and plopped on my bed. My stiff cock bobbed above my belly at a forty-five degree angle. I wondered if Mrs. Wheatley had really said those things.

I wanted to stroke and come so badly that I could taste it, but I didn’t want to ruin the possibilities. I just lay there and watched it bounce to the strum of my heartbeat. Long, thick, and hard, it stood there as if accusing me of something perverted. It must be true. Hell, I had to lie to my friend about it. I mean, she was my fucking sister, after all. Not only that, but I couldn’t take my eyes off my mom’s ass as she walked away in the damned hall. I was ruined. 

Well, fuck if I was going to listen to his accusations. I wasn’t the one who started things with my sister and my mom, was the one trying to embarrass me. I grabbed my headphones and turned them up loud, laying back with my eyes screwed shut. Maybe some good music would take my mind off things. It seemed to be working, if only slightly. I was still hard but my sister and my mom weren’t the ones I was picturing now. 

I was halfway through Blondie’s “Call Me,” when I felt something that startled me from my dirty, pop star fantasy. A warm hand gripped my still rigid cock, stroking it up and down twice and letting it go timidly when my eyes popped open. 

“Mom,” I screeched, yanking the headphones from my ears, and cursing in front of her for the first time, “What the fuck?”

She stood there, her eyes flashing back and forth from my cock and my stare. She said nothing and didn’t move, her hand hovering just inches from my twitching shaft. What the hell are you doing?” I nervously croaked while trying to cover my boner with my pillow.

“Sorry,” she said, “I knocked on your door for several minutes and when you didn’t answer, I got worried.”

Finally getting myself covered, I growled, “That doesn’t explain why you touched me.” 

I stood here for ten minutes trying to get your attention,” she laughed, still looking in the direction of my dick, “You don’t have to cover it. I had a good look at it while you were singing. It’s bigger than your dad’s.”

“Really?” I asked, then corrected myself, “I mean, too much information, Mom. And that doesn’t mean you can look at it, much less touch it.”

“Come on, honey,” she teased, pulling playfully at the pillow, “Give mommy a peek. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

“Mom,” I protested, “You can’t see me like this.”

“Come on,” she persisted, “Your dad doesn’t even get hard anymore. I just want to see it. It’s really nice.”

“Again,” I said, “Too much information, Mom.”

Sliding her hand under the pillow, she again took my throbbing shaft in her hand and slowly and lovingly stroked it. My heart skipped a beat, and I moaned a long pleasurable moan, “Fuck, Mom, that feels so good.”

“I figured you would like that,” she said, pulling my pillow away with no resistance from me. “Just let me take care of this woodrow for you now.”

“Woodrow?” 

“That’s what I call your dad’s,” she answered, pushing her palm down the length of my shaft, her fingers resting the size and weight of my testicles. She gently cupped each of them, rolling them around in her fingers. “These feel full.”

“I’ve been hard all day,” I said, “It just won’t go away.”

“Your dad never had this problem.”

“Come on, Mom,” I warned, “This is uncomfortable enough without that kind of stuff.”

With a laugh, she leaned over and kissed my cheek, “I’m sorry sweety. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable and I know you must be in pain with an all-day stiffy.”

“It’s not that bad,” I told her. “I just don’t like jacking off.”

“You don’t?” She asked surprised, “That’s new.”

“What do you mean?”

“Baby, I’ve had to wash so much cum out of my panties that I know you liked to jack off. Why not now?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, embarrassment growing again as my mom slowly stroked my cock, her head on my shoulder watching my foreskin move with her strokes, “I’m trying to learn to make it last longer instead of just a quick wank.”

“Well, your dad nev,” she began.

“Fuck sake, Mom,” I warned again.

“Sorry,” she said, kissing my cheek again, “I can help you with that if you want me too. First, you have to get used to being with a woman, or in your case, a girl when she is naked. So, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uhm,” I stuttered, thinking again of my sister and what happened yesterday, “I don’t know if I would call her a girlfriend.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Very.”

“Do I know this girl?” She asked, her grip tightening slightly on my curved shaft, but her slow pace remained constant.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to say her name.”

“That’s okay, hon,” she said. “Have you been intimate with her?”

“Intimate?” I repeated, my sixteen-year-old brain still not used to such formal vernacular, “Are you asking if...