For every girl who has to put up with an obnoxious brother, here's hope. I not only survived, I won. It may be April Fool's day, but this really happened one April day in 1961. Oh, that was a great day....
I enjoy reading the stories of people learning about sex and their own responses, especially the young ladies. It is sort of a way for me to live vicariously a life I never actually had. No exciting walks in the woods, no hot-tub adventures (they didn't exist in my little Bible-Belt town), no boys in my bedroom (ever), and not much action at the drive-in. I was the sort of dull girl that the TV preachers and religious-book authors would love to see spread across the country. (If that seems a pun, it was unintentional.)
But there just one occasion when I really, REALLY enjoyed masturbation, and it wasn't even my own. In honour of today, April Fools, here's the story.
There were just my brother, three years older, and my very strict and religious parents in my family. The rules were a model of family togetherness, just like the famous TV series called Father Supposedly Knows Best (laugh track)? We always ate dinner together, and after dinner retired to the living room for an hour of quiet reading, homework, Bible discussions, or such. It was so boring that I used to beg to do the dishes. But No. Brother Jerry and I hated it. It was the only thing we agreed on, though. He teased me and harassed me every way he could get away with. And from the time he turned 11 or 12, he was always after me trying to get a look at me naked, or even get a feel. He figured out that the locked bathroom door could be opened by poking a wire in the little hole in the center of the outside knob, and was forever walking in, then claiming that I hadn't locked the door. If he came into the bathroom as I was leaving with a towel or robe around me, he would snap me on the bottom with a towel to try to make me drop it. Really obnoxious. (To his credit, he mellowed a bit after he turned 50.)
Getting into puberty, I stared comparing stories with friends, and learning some interesting things about boys. By 13, I had learned by way of gossip what most of the girls today seem to have learned off the net or in their bedrooms (remember, the net didn't exist, then. Hey, in l961, PC's didn't exist, either. And books with reliable info didn't exist in our house.) I finally hit upon a way to get back at my brother, who I finally realized was over-sexed, under-satisfied, and perpetually horny. I came up with the kind of strategy that Ancient Chinese Generals wrote strategy books about.
One evening, I wore my skimpiest dress to dinner with no panties under it. (You couldn't tell: I had to wear a slip, too.) When family hour came round, I was first to the living room, and I picked a spot on the couch opposite where Jerry often sat on a cushion on the floor. Sure enough, he settled there. After a few minutes of polite conversation, after everyone was lost in their reading, I got myself into a cross-legged position that was almost like a yoga pose. It just happened to skootch my skirt up so that not only was my girl parts visible, I guess that the lamp across the room was casting a little light down there. Then I concentrated on my book, holding it up so that I could just barely peek over the top at Jerry. In a few minutes, his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. His pants started rising, and he quickly had to put his book down in his lap to conceal it. Now his eyes were darting back and forth between my crotch, his book, my crotch, mom (to see if she was noticing), my crotch, father, my crotch, etc, etc etc. I wiggled around a bit on the couch so my skirt rode up higher, and he got even redder in the face. Finally, he couldn't stand it any more, and he jumped up and ran for the bathroom. Father looked up and called ?Jerry, you didn?t ask to leave.? Jerry slammed the door closed and I slammed my legs together. Mom got up and headed for the bathroom door. There were strange sounds coming from the bathroom, and Mom asked Jerry, are you all right?? No answer, so she grabbed the emergency key, poked it in the hole, and opened the door. She gave a shriek and yelled. Jerry, whatever are you doing?!?? Now Father bolted for the bathroom and pushed mom aside. Jeremiah!? he shouted. (Now, my dad reserved Jerry's full name for special occasions, and you better bet that successfully taking out the garbage wasn't the sort of occasion I mean. ) Jeremiah, what have you done?? The bathroom door slammed closed again, with the three of them inside.
I figured this was my cue. I pulled my most modest dark panties out from under the couch cushion where I'd hidden them earlier, and slipped them on. In a few minutes, mom stepped out, leaving Father and Jeremiah in there to have a long discussion. Mom sat down where Jerry had been. I finally put down the book and gave her a puzzled look. You're not sitting very modestly, she said. What do you mean?? I asked. Your dress is riding up. I kept the puzzled act going, and she walked across to me and lifted my skirt. Mooooom! I yelled. She said I had to find out which underwear you had on. I was hugely offended. Well, I hope you're satisfied. I huffed. Now, may I go back to reading? I need to finish this for school. She got up and headed for the bathroom. I'm sorry about this, she said, not looking back.
I waited a suitable time, then went to the still-closed bathroom door and knocked. Hey, family time is over, and I really have to go to the bathroom. Are you coming out soon, or should I walk down to the gas station?? They trooped out in a silent procession, Jeremiah first, then Father, then Mom, and I took my turn. What were you all doing in there?? I asked innocently. Nobody answered. I came out smiling a few minutes later saying. Gee, this was a great evening. I finished my book! and off to my room I went.
Jerry/Jeremiah treated me very differently after that. He didn't like me any better, but he treated me with considerable respect. He had caught on that I was a much better strategist than he was or would ever be. I still am. I head up my own little company, and he's still back there in the Bible-belt, probably still watching the short skirts go by.
I've had a rather ordinary sex life. Still no hot tub adventures with the hot tub guy, no vibrators going off in the middle of a board meeting, etc, but I've been pleased enough with the sort of things I/we do that I don't much need porn of any persuasion. But I do get a most wicked feeling when I think about 16-year-old Jerry running for the bathroom, and imagining what he was doing when Mom opened the door. I might just go imagine the moment right now! Have fun, y'all!