Author's note: This is a rewrite of my first submission which did not come out quite the way I had hoped. At the urging of those who commented, I expanded it. A special thanks to Amela who took pity on a struggling newbie and as editor, gave a critical eye and thoughtful comments.
This installment is the first of an eight-chapter series in which a Japanese-American woman discovers incestuous firsts, some of which are kinky, if not downright perverted. The standard disclaimers as to age and fictitious identity of the all characters apply. I hope that you enjoy the series.
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The first time I saw a penis it looked utterly gross. It was this limp, slippery one-eyed eel that emerged from a tangled patch of dark pubic hair. The fleshy monster boldly forced itself through the fragile gates of my sex to pierce my thin veil of virginity. Heedless of the blood drawn and pain caused, it proceeded to repeatedly penetrate and vigorously stretch my unexplored feminine grotto. Then, with a large guttural grunt, the invading presence plunged into my very depths and spewed its sticky, milky, white goo before deflating from utter exhaustion.
My fingers hesitantly encircled its slipperiness. I lifted the flaccid shaft for better inspection. I was immediately taken aback by the mixture of musky seminal discharge, the light metallic smell of my ruptured hymen, and the subtle scent of my own sexual juices. My hand slid up the slimy shaft to the flanged head when it threatened to escape through my ring of fingers, forcing me to tighten my grip. A small pearl of waxy fluid emerged from the slit of its head and, before I knew it, it quickly disappeared with a flick of my tongue. My mouth was filled with my first unforgettable taste of masculine ambrosia.
Suddenly, the once-dormant manhood in my hand stirred and revived. Before my widening eyes, it became engorged and lengthened, seemingly throbbing with a life of its own. Its rapid transformation surprised me so much that I couldn't help but gasp in sheer amazement. It was then that with a lurch of his hips, the penis that I had unexpectedly licked moments before jumped between my parted lips to enter my open mouth.
My first reaction was to pull back, but a hand at the rear of my head effectively negated this instinctive retreat. I gagged as the crotch-snake sought to slither into my mouth. Then for some strange, unexplainable reason, I found myself relaxing my throat and granting it greater access.
As the engorged penis slipped further into my mouth, my lips firmly wrapped around it. I was rewarded with a low moan of bliss, but wasn't sure if it came from him or me. All I knew was that I was shamelessly relishing in the incredible sensation of a man's erection sliding back and forth in my mouth for the first time.
Oh, yeah, I, like the thousands of young girls, had read about oral sex either in dull clinical sex education textbooks, those teasing feminine magazines, or racy teenage romance novels. I tried mouthing boiled hot dogs and even attempted swallowing peeled bananas to varying degrees of success and satisfaction.
However, while I knew the mechanics of what was crudely referred to as blowjob, nothing could prepare me for the moment when a real penis would fill my mouth. I wasn't prepared for how rapidly it would grow or how sinfully delicious it would taste. I never thought that when I would be finally doing it that I would willingly and eagerly be going down on my younger brother, Kenny, during an incredulous night in which our innocent sibling love would quickly become forbidden incestuous lust.
I remember thinking during that fateful night about how I should have been exhilarated at having some much-desired private time. But instead I found myself in a pensive mood. Perhaps my feelings were in keeping with the stormy weather that raged around my family's home. Or perhaps it was because my parents had flown to a neighboring island to watch my older sister, Trudy, play tennis for the state University. Or perhaps it was because I had been instructed to keep an eye on my rascal younger brother, who was forever puttering around with something in his shed at the back of the house.
My parents are hardworking, second-generation Japanese-Americans who, while blending into Western society, cling to traditional cultural values of their ancestry, especially when it comes to family. They run a tiny country store in a small surfing community on the island of Oahu. The store is known for its shaved ice cones. Naturally, my siblings and I are expected to pitch in at the store when we aren't in school or at school-related activities. Above all, we are supposed to take care of each other.
Since I started my second year at a local community college, there hasn't been a whole lot of "me time" between studying, working at the store, and other family obligations. As such, you would think that I should have been resentful at the loss of a free weekend babysitting Kenny, who was known to lack common sense and be rather impulsive. But who was I kidding? Even if I hadn't stuck at home because of Kenny, I wouldn't have had anything to do. My social (and love) life were going nowhere quickly.
This was in stark contrast to Trudy who had no problem attracting the boys. Although she was just two inches shorter than me with a height of 5'5", she had a disgustingly trim but shapely body unlike my form which was clearly reflected in my bedroom's full-length mirror. Fresh from the shower, I twisted and turned as I critically assessed my nude reflection. I am glad that my legs are long and nicely shaped; my hips are bigger than Trudy's but not by much; and my buns are round and firm.
Unfortunately, next to Trudy, I was downright deficient in the boob department. How could she have full B-cup tits on her smaller body frame when I was barely an A-cup? My breasts are pointy snow-white mounds, much smaller than the ice cones that I make and sell at the family store. They wouldn't be noticeable if not for my large, dark, meaty nipples. I really don't need to wear a bra but do so to prevent my protruding tips from making embarrassing bumps under my thin tops and t-shirts.
Trudy, however, loves being braless and brazenly displays her bigger boobs. My older sister has no qualms using her eldest child status and her tennis scholarship as reasons to sneak out of the house and dump her family chores and Kenny on me.
Fooling around with whatever buff guy caught her eye, Trudy would then brag to me of her sexual exploits in graphic detail and of her long line of male adorers who amply sample what she so freely flaunts. Although I derisively think of my sister as an easy slut, there is a part of me that is secretly envious of her.
