Cat-like eyes of yellow fire bore into me, as I stared down at the pale, almost translucent figure on her knees before me. It was a deathly face that stared back; one that knew my darkest secrets and my living torment, one that enticed and repulsed in equal measure. Each time was the same, but the knowing only served to heighten my fear: her blood red lips would part to reveal an abyss, a road straight to hell, framed with razor teeth. Then would come the banshee howl, and the lunge, as I stood rooted to the spot. This was the image that I had awoke to, trembling and sweating, almost every morning since what had happened with aunt Susan and cousin Sara. And although I cannot say that the vampiristic figure of my nightmares resembled my aunt in any great detail, I knew in my soul that it was symbolic of her.
Feelings of fear and guilt blended with ones of arousal and exhilaration to create a heady cocktail of turmoil in those dying days of summer, 1999. For weeks after my stay with aunt Susan and her precious daughter, I hardly managed a wink of sleep for fear of letting the demons creep in, while my days were a swirl in a masturbatory haze. And yet, even the fear of my nightmares couldn’t quell my urges; I had had a few wet dreams before, but now it was a thing of startling regularity. Morning, noon and night seemed spent seeking an opportunity to satiate my masturbatory desires. In such a daze of confusion, my already sullen demeanour deepened. Without any exaggeration, I must have been pleasuring myself eight or nine times a day, if not more, but as time passed I craved greater levels of arousal. Again and again I would play out the scenes that took place just a few weeks before. I’d masturbate to the thought of how Sara’s silky panties had felt as my penis slid back and forth in the crevice of her bottom. Then I’d picture Cecile masturbating me to orgasm over my aunt Susan, and the sight of her licking my semen from her lips. Other days I’d remember how Juliet had squatted over my face, or how Lucy’s labia had parted to reveal her inner glory. But still I needed more.Several events in particular stand out from that last couple of weeks before September’s return to school. One evening I had gone to the local park to play football with mates when I noticed cousin Sara walking with two friends. We spotted each other at about the same time, and we both became flushed with embarrassment, or perhaps it was excitement. Either way, we both tried to avoid each other’s gaze, but before long we had to acknowledge the other, as her friends had started calling me over to talk. I must admit that I began to panic a bit, because it crossed my mind that Sara might well have shown her new friends the photo she’d taken of me masturbating only a few weeks earlier. Soon, however, my fears were eased, as Sara’s friends chatted with me without any hint of them knowing. Sara on the other hand was very subdued; not at all like the confident girl I knew.
Throughout the conversation Sara said very little, and she rarely lifted her eyes from the ground. But as her friends bid me good-bye, Sara looked directly at me and said “Are you okay, then?” I nodded in response. “Good, because I miss you,” she continued, before turning to walk away. Then, after a couple of paces, she turned her head back to me slightly and in a low voice simply added, “I’m sorry.”
I looked at her face; she was biting her lower lip as if to hold back more and I thought I could even discern tears welling in her eyes. I was speechless. As she turned again and began to run I called, “Sara,” but it came as a whisper that she did not hear.
On another occasion, my sister Jenny and I had been invited to go swimming at her friend’s house. Jenny was and still is the most wonderful sister imaginable. Words like 'warm', 'funny', 'kind', 'beautiful' and 'gentle' do not do her justice. Despite the fact that we are twins (of the non identical variety), we have very little in common, and yet we always got on so well. Her friend Molly, by comparison, was rather unattractive and dull of personality. In time this would change, but for now Molly was a slightly overweight girl with crooked teeth and the worst haircut I’d ever seen. At almost seventeen, she was a little older than Jenny, and she used this to rule over my sister at every opportunity. Jenny, however, seemed to accept it all with good grace.On the day in question, I remember waiting outside the pool-house changing room while Molly and Jenny got into their bathing costumes. After what seemed like an age, both girls appeared and rushed to the pool, as I went to change. Now, as I entered the changing room, I can honestly say that I had absolutely no sexual thoughts at all, having relieved myself fully only an hour or so before. And yet as I pulled my boxer shorts to the ground I felt the first stirrings of an erection that within seconds grew to its full proportions.
Of course, I knew there was no way that I could appear from the changing room in that state, and without even thinking through the situation my hand made an involuntary movement to grasp myself. I began the slow motion of pulling my foreskin backward and forward, each time covering my glistening, purple sex-head. It was then that I noticed a pile of clothes on the floor to my left, belonging to Molly and Jenny. Looking more closely, I realised that on top of the pile were two pairs of panties. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself reaching down and picking them up. My strokes slowed, as I examined the two delicate pairs of knickers more carefully.