The first real sexual experience of my life began not long after I had turned eighteen. My partner in crime was my sister, Mary Jane. I should explain myself. MJ is only my half-sister. She's almost three years older than I am, being the product of my father and a woman other than my mother, whom he had been married to for the first two years of Mary Jane's life.
Mary Jane is what the less gentlemanly might call "a real looker." She is about 5'9" and slightly slim for her size, with pale skin lightly dusted with freckles, natural red hair that curls its way about halfway down her back, and the most alluring blue eyes you've ever seen. Mary Jane is not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination, but she does some small amount of daily exercising to keep in shape. She's also strictly a vegetarian, something that is admirable diet-wise, but also an ideal that I do not personally follow. MJ is not, almost surprisingly, a very outgoing person. She has a few friends that I know, but for the most part she keeps to herself in her room and rarely goes out.
This, as it turned out, was a very good thing for me. You see, ever since I was young, Mary Jane had been the object of most of my sexual desires. I say "most" because I did have a girlfriend for a period of about seven months during which I lost my virginity and got laid on an almost daily basis after the first three months. A seemingly innocent fact helped and encouraged me with my hormone-driven thoughts of my very own sister. MJ and I had bedrooms that were wall to wall with each other. When my sister was younger, my father decided to build shelves for all of her various toys and children's books.
He made two large ones, one of which was placed on the wall that was in common with mine. He planned the shelves as semi-permanent fixtures and, as such, drilled holes in the wall in order to attach the shelves. Since then, MJ has had the shelves removed. That left eight pretty decent sized holes in my closet wall. They were covered with plaster on her side; apparently my parents didn't think about my side of the wall. At any rate, one of the hole's covering plaster had managed to crack and peel away for the most part, giving me a hole about the size of a dime through which I could see a good portion of my sister's room.
I discovered this fact one evening as I was searching for a particular shirt in the pile of dirty clothes that usually rests in my closet. A framed picture that had been in my closet for as long as I could remember was leaning against the wall. My clothes were, as usual, on the verge of taking it over. Normally I just took some clothes to the laundry room or pulled them away from the picture, but for whatever reason I decided to move the picture to one end of my closet where my clothes wouldn't get in the way. With that, the dime-sized hole was revealed.
I found that I could see most of MJ's room. What I couldn't see was the closet past her bed, the door, and, of course, just about anything on the common wall. I didn't think much of it at first, but after sometime the implications of it began to sink in. After a while, I knew that my sister remained up with her light on for a very long time after mother and father had gone to bed and that she was often still awake when I decided to sleep. I figured that she was probably spending most of her time either online or reading, both of which were her favorite pastimes, and mine as well. I recall quite clearly when the idea of other things began to form in my mind. I was lying in bed, naked, as I usually was when I had decided to sleep, and I was staring at the ceiling, trying to find a reason to masturbate.
My eye wandered to the hole, as it was the only source of minute light in the room aside from the blue digital numbers of my alarm clock. Slipping quietly from my bed, I crept over to the hole and peered into my sister's room. I could see her quite clearly in an evening robe, lying on her bed and reading. I continued watching with anticipation, but I gave up with no small amount of disappointment after three-quarters of an hour. Not to be defeated so easily, I found myself kneeling before the hole nearly every night for the next two weeks. Unfortunately, I never found her doing anything other than reading, writing, or using her computer.
A full three nights after my last attempt at spying on Mary Jane, my parents went out of town. They worked together doing "in the field" research for a scientific corporation, and often left town for days or weeks at a time. They were to be gone for the next four days at least, and they would phone if it would be longer. There was nothing at all unusual about this, and after ordering a pizza for dinner and watching a few movies on TV, I decided to call it a night. I had gotten up early that day, and I was tired. I told MJ good night and went to my room. I read a bit from one of my Sherlock Holmes books. When I was through with that I turned out my light and crawled naked into bed.
As tired as I was, I couldn't seem to get to sleep. I'd been trying unsuccessfully to sleep for about twenty minutes when I heard Mary Jane enter her room, then saw her light go on. I figured she was going to read for a bit as well before sleeping, but nevertheless I slid silently from my bed and crept up to the hole. Peering inside, I could see MJ standing near the foot of her bed, looking into the mirror over her dresser, which I couldn't see. She parted the robe she was wearing and gave a critical look towards her reflection. She sighed then, and shrugged out of the robe, which she tossed to the floor.
She turned to her left, giving me an inspiring view of her rear end. I could see a trail of freckles along the top of it and further up her back. Her bottom was very shapely, and when she moved just so, I caught a glimpse of her pussy lips. Even though I couldn't see much, I felt myself growing hard as I looked at her. She turned to her right then, giving me a full view of her magnificent breasts. I hadn't ever imagined them to be so lovely. They were large, delicious looking globes, dotted along the tops with freckles. Her nipples were large, the aureoles quite big, and very pink.
She was still looking into the mirror. Her right hand trailed up her stomach and came up to her breasts, and she began to fondle herself, tweaking her nipples to make them hard. Her other hand went down between her legs, to her unshaven sweetness. I heard myself swallow and my heart rate quickened. She didn't seem to notice a thing, though I was sure the beating of my heart would give me away. I took my throbbing member into one hand and began to slowly stroke it as I gazed, entranced, at Mary Jane. She knelt to allow herself to spread her legs easily, slipping two fingers up inside of herself. I almost choked.
