The Indest Cooies

I lost my virginity at the first college party I ever went to. Nowadays, I'm sure that would be considered late in life, but there were plenty of guys like me back in '62. Mom was overbearing. I guess I could blame her for always being around every corner, for hearing every pin drop. Looking back, she did what she had to. Dad was gone since I was a baby, so it was up to her and no other. She raised my sister and me alone, and in my opinion, she did a bang-up job. No, it wasn't Mom's fault that I waited so long. I won't sob. Truth is, I lacked credentials, contenders, and most of all... confidence.

College was the first time I'd ever been away from home, and I took full advantage. The music was loud, the air was thick with smoke, and I couldn't slug my way up the stairs without bumping twenty people. I clutched my cup, the same kind everyone else had, and I sipped those suds no matter how they struck me. I staggered down what seemed like a funhouse hallway and crashed into a room with a bed.

"You're kind of ugly," a soft voice said. "But I'll do it with you anyways." I opened my eyes and there was an angel, right in the doorway. She pulled my pants off, lifted her skirt, and climbed on top. My dick went inside, and it was so hot and warm and wet, it nearly blew my mind. She moaned and groaned and bounced and ground, and it didn't take very long before I was done. I remember how she pulled herself free, how she kissed me on the cheek and walked out that door.

The next woman was twenty years older, and I saw her in the park on a drizzly Sunday morning while I walked my dog, a tangly little Shih Tzu that I called Blob. I'd let him off his leash so he could piss on a tree and sniff all around, and this beautiful woman came wandering down. She said "Hi" in a way that might mean more. The next day, I took Blob back to that very spot. She came to visit again, and the next day the same. We talked a few times, and she told me she was married. She drove us to a cheap motel, the kind that charges by the hour, the kind that's always stained. She let me eat her pussy and finger her ass and taste her cum. We did it three different ways before I pulled it out and covered her chest in shiny white pearls. It was the best thing I'd ever done. We had forty-five minutes left, so we shared a cigarette and did it again. I went to the park the day after that, but she never came back, not in a week, not in a month, so I eventually gave up.

The last girl I did it with was the one I wished I'd never met. My best friend hooked us up. Thanks for that, Tim. Thanks a lot. She was beautiful, smart, sexy... all the things I'd ever wanted. She moved like a cat when we danced -- a sexy feline tramp. We went walking, and there was an alley, and it happened there, in a damp stairwell. She got on her knees, took me in her mouth, and told me not to finish. When she knew I was hot and closer than close, she turned around and pulled her pants down. I did what she wanted, no hesitation, no arguments about it.

We had sex every day for a month and a week, and then one morning, I got a note on top of my pillow. "Dear you, those times we had meant nothing. Don't bother calling. I don't want to know you." I crushed the note, tore it into pieces, and dropped them in the ashtray. I burned them and flushed them down the toilet. When the ashes were gone in a gurgling swirl and the toilet had filled again, I spat blood in the water because I'd bitten my lip, so I took a piss and flushed it again. I looked in the mirror and saw a guy who was sick and tired and done with that town. That's when I decided I wanted to get back home.

I drove my rusty muscle car, blowing black smoke all the way. Mom waited at the door, and when she opened it wide and told me to come inside, the smell of fresh bread was all I needed. She hugged me tight and said my sister was on her way. We had dinner together, the three of us again, two full portions of Mom's fresh bread and duck cassoulet. We drank wine and laughed, and I admitted I needed a break from that city life. Mom said my room was still there, not quite as I'd left it and in need of repair, but it was mine if I wanted, for as long as I cared. I moved my stuff in, and my sister helped unload. That's when she told me, "First thing in the morn', I'll fix those wheels of yours... the exhaust, and brake lines for stopping." I was relieved and happy she'd offered. My sister's the best mechanic from here to New Hampshire, and that includes the guys down at Hell's Gate Raceway, no matter what they tell you, and that's final.

Later that night, we watched TV and played cards. The dishes were soaking, and the oven was hot. Mom's cookies came in batches that filled the house with aromas of chocolate, peanut butter, and macadamia nut. I laid down three aces as the weatherman denied any part in the storm that was coming. The rain came fast, and when we heard it pelting, we rushed through the house and closed all the windows.

When we sat down again, my sister's shirt was wet, and when I noticed her breasts, I felt bad and told her, "Your boobs... I see them both."

She looked down at her chest and then back at me. "Shit," she complained. "That's my last shirt. Just pretend you don't care."

Mom came from the kitchen with a tray of fresh cookies, hot off the pan. She put them in front of us and smiled, just happy we were home. "Mmmm," my sister moaned. "Those look so good." She reached forward to take one, and, wrong as it was, I found myself staring at her lovely tight butt. She sat back beside me, stretched her legs out, and rested them on me. Her calves were smooth, her pink toenails done nice, and though it's a sin, the wrongness made it right. Mom's rocking chair creaked as she sat down beside us. Her baking complete, she picked up her knitting and made a tiny sweater, one with a little maple leaf.

In a few minutes, I thought I would burst, the throbbing and the pulsing the worst, but my sister just sat there like she had no idea. I felt like a pervert, and more than anything in the world, I wanted to go, to leave the room and let my pants down. But they were both there, and I was sure that they'd see. I tried to get comfortable, but there was no way. Mom wasn't looking, and the light was low, and suddenly I felt it -- a finger down below. My sister rubbed, scratched, and touched all around, with only my pants between her and my hound.

I started to squirt, and though I'm sure she knew it, Mom kept on knitting while my sister took me through it. I tried not to twitch and I tried not to moan, but my load came in pulses. I had no control. When it was over, there was no hiding, but they were kind and they didn't make a fuss. When I stood up and started to leave, they smiled and wished me goodnight, just like it was nothing.

I woke up startled by the noise of power tools. Somewhere outside, they howled cruelly. I pulled on my clothes, poured some black coffee, and stepped into the garage. My sister was there, bent over the front of my car with grease halfway up her arm, wrenching in the engine bay. She stared as I came closer, black smeared on her brow, her hair a confusion... a shy and sexy frown. I came up beside her and kissed her on the ear. She smelled like gasoline, hard work, and family.

"I know it's bad," she whispered. "But I liked last night, and I'd do it again." I pressed up against her and pinned her to the fender. Our crotches ground together, leather against denim. As we kissed, Mom appeared at the door with a plate of treats -- maple cream, my favourite.