This came from an increasingly sexual conversation with a very dear friend. After he’d told me, I asked if I could write it up here because, as you’ll see, aside from the actual content, I think it has value in another way.
Names. I’m awful making up names….oh bugger it…let’s call him ‘Paul’. Paul is 23, recently married and hugely successful. His dad died recently and Paul inherited the family business, plus a bucket-load of gilt-edged stocks. He’s also engaged to be married.
We were having a drink and talking about old times….and yes, Paul and I did goof around a little. Only a little. Some light snogging, a little second base for me, but I did get to wank him off twice. We were talking about our ‘sexual startups’. Those things everyone goes through at the beginning of their sexual experimentation. They can be strange things, or perfectly mundane, but each has ther way into the sexual garden.
Paul told me of morning glories, of wet dreams, of learning how to masturbate and what he thought about when he did it. Then he said “Of course, it’s difficult to have a sexual fantasy when you know absolutely nothing about the opposite sex other than badly drawn diagrams in a sex Ed book.” He has a point. I’m sure there are teenage boys out there to this day who think a woman’s sex organs come with neatly labelled parts.
Paul looked deeply into his pint of beer as if the memory lay festering in the bottom of it. “I kept hearing my friends talk about smelling their girlfriends on their fingers….and tasting them….a couple had gone further and knew about licking a girl out. I didn’t. The only thing I’d ever seen about a girl was now and then when I’d caught a flash of my sister’s panties. For all I knew, the only thing between a girls legs was a covering of material.”
There are moments when someone is thinking, and you just feel that disturbing them would be the wrong thing to do, so I just left him to his thoughts. “I…I noticed sometimes, the crotch of my sister’s panties were…stained. At first I thought maybe she wasn’t keeping herself clean after using the bathroom, but over a couple of weeks, those marks simply wouldn’t leave my brain!…..And then I twigged…..these were stains from her sex….cum stains….and….and one day, I had the house to myself, so I went into her room and found a pair in her laundry. I picked them up and found marks on the crotch. Anna, they were still damp. I ….well, I smelled them. It almost made me faint. Not because it smelled horrible, quite the opposite. It smelled amazing….sexy….light…musky….and I found it gave me an instantaneous erection. I….masturbated smelling her panties. Afterwards, I felt so guilty, but I couldn’t stop doing it. Every chance I got.”
Paul was talking more freely now….something was happening.
“ Like all good things, it had to come to an end. Whether I’d got careless in how I left her room, or whether she’d set some kind of trap so she knew if someone came into her room when she was out, I don’t know. Anyway, one afternoon, I was in there, my pants and boxers round my ankles, her panties in my hand and I was going at it when I heard her say ‘Well…when you cum, make sure you shoot your load in my panties.’ I spun round and there she was, leaning on the door frame, but….and here’s the strange thing…she didn’t look crazy-mad. If anything, she looked….amused. I was way too close to stop and I had nothing else so I caught my load in her panties as she asked.”
“It didn’t end there, Anna. When I was 16, which was only a few weeks away from when this happened, we began messing around. She showed me how a girl does herself, and she taught me how to make her cum. We carried on with this for a year and then, on my 17th birthday, she said she had a special present for me. The family celebrations came and went, but no present. Late that night, she crept into my room and into bed with me. She told me that this would happen once, and once only, and that it marked the end of us fooling around. Anna, we….we had sex….proper, full on sex.”
Paul drank deeply of his beer, and when he emerged from his glass, he looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from him.
“Anna….this has been in my head for, oh, so long now. I just had to tell someone. I’m sorry if this has ended our friendship.” I put my hand over his and told him that far from ending our friendship I felt honoured that he trusted me with this secret he’s been carrying alone all this time. She grinned ruefully and said, “Yeah, but ….my own sister?” I told him he is not the only person who has had sex with their sister. He said, “Well, YOU haven’t. Your sister's a girl…obviously.” All it took was for me to raise one eyebrow. “Wait…what…..ooooohhhhh!”
He left the pub a different man. A spring in his step and clearly, for whatever reason, a burden had been lifted, and it got me thinking. I wonder how many people, during their experimental years, did something that they consider to be ‘bad’….something, that when they think of it, their cheeks flush red, and their heart rate increases, and they hope to hell no-one ever finds out about?
To those people I’d offer this. Sexual exploration is born of innocence. Innocence and that natural inquisitiveness that made early mankind wonder what is in the next valley, and as a result helped us spread out across the world. We are inquisitive by nature, and one of the basic, primal, hard-wired stimuli we have is reproduction. Sex.
When we lived in tribal groups, we learned by watching. Sex wasn’t a secret, hidden-away, private thing. It was very much a public event, and in some cultures, still is. Modern convention has driven sex behind closed doors and made it secret. What we once learned from observation, we now learn by books and word of mouth. And I believe it’s lost something along the way.
And so we observe, we watch, our eyes seek out that which is attractive to us. We are hard-wired to notice the things that attract us. Boobs, curves, crotches, damp patches, and what we hear others talk about.
Once testosterone starts flowing in both males and females, it brings with it that most powerful or urges…the urge to have sex. Survival of the species.
Paul, like so many, noticed what was closest to him. His parents own, quite literally, the last house in the village. They couldn’t be more remote. His experimentation, his curiosity was, I submit, not only not evil or disgusting, it was inevitable.
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
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