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Archive name: ourtown1.txt (Mm/f, rom, ped)
Authors name: Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com)
Story title : Our Town - 1
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please
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Our Town - 1 (Mm/f, rom, ped)
by Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com)
***
Coming of age and the awakening sexuality of a teenage
brother and younger sister. Non-incestuous.
***
In an odd way I was flattered and he made me feel good. I
had just turned sixteen and Jed had been a GI in Vietnam.
He had been drafted, sent there as a boy of eighteen, and
served for less than a year when we had to evacuate our
soldiers from Saigon. It was our greatest national
humiliation and our returning fighting men were made to
feel it.
"I knew it would happen," declared Jed's father when the
boy finally reached home. "You are a fucking failure, a
fucking recipe for disaster wherever you go. And now
you've done it on a grand scale and lost us the fucking
war!"
Jed and his father never got on. I suppose that is why he
hung around our place so much. At least, I had convinced
myself that was the reason. It made me feel superior,
because I got on well with both my parents and my young
sister Deri. I was quite convinced that we had a close-
knit, normal, happy family; there was an arrogance about
the way we 'took Jed in' so to speak.
When Jed and I were alone, which was practically every
day when I was not in school for a couple of years, we
used to throw a football at each other or play a kind of
baseball, but it was difficult with just the two of us.
We fished in the local stream or went for long walks. And
when we had nothing better to do, we would watch
television or videos or play cards at my place.
We lived in a small town in Kansas near the state line
with Colorado and Oklahoma. There used to be a thriving
mining industry there, but now it is nothing more than a
sleepy watering hole with a filling station and a diner
for truckers or passing tourists. Jed worked in the
filling station, did the odd turn at fixing automobiles
or the Keaton's or Mason's tractors, cleaned up for old
Mrs. Chessip at the diner, and kept the half dozen lawns
in the town tidy. There is an old Catholic mission
church, but there hasn't been a service there in my
lifetime, and Jed's dad said that he could only vaguely
remember the last priest moving out of the stone-built
house attached to the church like a ramshackle lean-to.
There is also a general store that reminds the old folk
of a frontier trading post, and an elementary school with
less than twenty kids.
It was freaky, but in the actual town, apart from Jed and
me, there was only one other boy, a skinny, gawky kid
called Theodore Webb, who was a year younger than my kid
sister, Deri, and she was around nine or ten years old at
the time I am writing about. There was one other girl
called Shirley Verne; she was quite a bit older than
Deri, nearer my age, but she was an imbecile and never
allowed out beyond the family property without either
parent or both taking her by the hand. Jed and I used to
talk dirty or stupid to her in passing when she swung
back and forward on the garden gate.
Occasionally, when there was no one else around, Jed
would feel her up; she always wore ridiculously short
dresses or skirts and loose knickers, almost like boxer
drawers. But it was scary the way she stared at me while
Jed groped her. All the other kids in the town school
apart from Deri and Theodore came from outlying farms.
The junior high was thirty miles away, and the senior
high even farther, and an old-fashioned, yellow minibus
transported me and half a dozen farm kids there and back
during schooldays. And that about sums up our town.
Jed started coming round to our place when Deri had just
turned nine. She had an instant crush on him and he
encouraged her every inch of the way. He used to play
checkers or poker with my dad on the porch at the
weekends, and Deri occasionally sat on the double stool
beside him. I did not think anything of it at the time,
but sometimes they would rub legs together under the
table.
When there was only the three of us around, she would
snuggle up close to Jed as they sat on the swinging
garden seat and he would put his arm around her. I would
pretend to do some gardening, or practice my golf swing.
From time to time they would whisper secrets to each
other. And they would look over at me, then Deri would
giggle and Jed would snigger.
"Greg's my best buddy!" he would declare, and Deri would
say, "He's my favorite brother!" And they would laugh as
if they had made a great joke at my expense.
"Fat choice either of you have!" I would retort. "In this
town!"
I could hardly help but notice that they rarely sat
together this close when my parents were anywhere near.
When we were indoors watching television Deri always sat
with my mom or dad in one of the massive armchairs in our
sitting room or on a kind of footstool.
And then, one night three-quarter way through Deri's
tenth year, when it was only the three of us again
watching the new Aliens video, I noticed Jed's hand
playing guitar with her chest. Her tiny pimple nipples
were sticking out rigid under the tight tee-shirt. And
her hand was rubbing up and down Jed's upper thigh. I
felt a kind of sickness in my stomach for it was obvious
that Jed had been aroused, and it was this great bulge in
his pants that my kid sister was caressing. I had great
difficulty in deciding whether my feeling was one of
nausea, outrage or jealousy.
It was only a few weeks later, at the start of the long
summer vacation from school, that another small step was
taken by Jed and a giant stride for me. It had been a
stiflingly hot day. My dad was away. He was a kind of
claims investigator and trouble-shooter for a company of
insurance brokers. His office was in Ulysses, but it was
not unusual for him to be away from home for days or
weeks at a time. On this particular occasion, he was in
Hawaii.
My mom, who was secretary to Dr. Winsonleigh, a
veterinary surgeon in Richfield, phoned to say that she
would be late home, and would I take Deri to the diner
and tell Mrs. Chessip that she would settle the bill when
she got back, but not to let us make pigs of ourselves
and to feed us only what she would give her own children
- if she had had any! I had a funny feeling in the pit of
my stomach as mom was speaking; I could not help toying
with the notion that she always seemed to be working
extra hours when dad was away from home. And on this
occasion her talk was rambling and her voice was slurred
and hesitant as if she had been drinking.
"My treat," said Jed grandly when I made the
announcement. "And you can eat your fill of what you
want." He sniggered in his own peculiar way. "And I'll
take the blame for it and any shit that's thrown when
your mom gets home."
Afterwards, we returned to our place because Jed had
fallen out with his father again. Deri went immediately
to her room. When she reappeared she was wearing
outrageously abbreviated cut-aways and a loose off the
shoulder thing that hardly reached her navel. I suggested
playing lawn quoits or badminton. The other two scoffed
at the idea and sat together on the garden lounger.
"It's almost dark, Greg," my sister pointed out with
contempt.
"Enjoy the cool of the evening, man!" exclaimed Jed.
Deri had switched on her portable radio. They were
listening to the latest pop chart favorites. I felt
surplus to requirements. Then I noticed that Jed had his
arm around my kid sister again and that his hand had
slipped under the off-the-shoulder tank top and was
rubbing her chest. Then they started kissing - not the
kind of kissing you would expect with a near-ten year
old, but a full blooded, open-mouthed, tongue and teeth,
slobbering, passionate kiss. And then he was groping
between her legs and under her shorts.
I was really angry; I felt somehow betrayed, but I had no
idea how to express my outrage. Deri's thighs were widely
splayed, the narrow crotch of her shorts and been brushed
aside, and I could see her little pink pussy being
stroked by Jed's invading fingers. I was shocked to
realise that my kid sister was not wearing anything
underneath. That seemed more important to me than the
fact that her hips were lifting and dropping with
increasing tempo to accommodate Jed's explorations.
The phone rang. I let it ring three or four times before
I went inside to answer it. I was concerned about my
little sister, but at the same time I was sexually
aroused by what was happening. I was sure that if I left
the scene of the crime Jed would be raping Deri by the
time I returned. And I was well aware that if I tried to
defend her honor, Jed was capable of smashing my face to
a bloody pulp. I had seen him doing such a thing at the
filling station to a so-called 'tough guy' from up north
who tried to get gas without paying. It showed me a
dangerous side of him, and it was scary.
It was dad on the phone. He seemed upset when I told him
that mom was not there. He asked what we had done about
an evening meal. He seemed further upset when I explained
about going to Mrs. Chessip's diner. "At least Jed was
with you," he grumbled. "Jed's a good lad!" I cast an
anxious glance in the direction of the grunts and moans
from the garden. I wondered if he would change his
opinion were he to know what was happening out there. We
chatted for a couple of minutes, then he asked to speak
to Deri. I sighed relief. It was a let-out!
"She's only a kid, Jed!" I voiced my objection to Jed the
following day, "She's not even ten yet!"
"It was only an innocent bit of fun," explained Jed.
"Kids like Deri like to be fussed over."
"But she blew off!"
"So?" Jed looked puzzled as if I had pointed upwards and
told him the sky was in that direction.
"She's not even ten yet," I repeated. I did not want to
admit my ignorance. So much for sex education in school;
I really and truly believed that you had to be an adult
before you could get an orgasm. At sixteen, at least I
had rid myself of the notion that you had to be married
in order to have sex! I tried desperately to justify my
objection. "I read somewhere it could be dangerous for
someone as young as Deri to blow off." This was a lie.
Jed laughed. "That is shit! It would have been a hellish
way more dangerous to leave her dangling. Christ, Greg!
Once a kid gets up like that, as high as Deri was last
night, you can't leave them dry! That's cruel. You have
to give them satisfaction; bring them off." He sensed
that I was unconvinced. "It makes them feel great,
especially with someone who's a bit older."
"A lot older," I corrected.
That seemed to subdue him. He was more than twice Deri's
age.
"What's the harm in a little bit of fun?" he demanded
grudgingly.
We were fishing in the river. We had caught nothing, but
it helped release the volcanic tension that had been
growing up inside me.
"I had a kid like Deri in 'Nam," said Jed after a long,
sullen silence. "She was beautiful. Lin Fi she was
called." He sighed. It was a sad sound. "Beautiful!" he
repeated in a whisper, but with greater emphasis. "She
used to ride me like a fifty dollar whore. I tried
everything I knew to get her out of Saigon when we left,
but no one was interested. I was not important enough.
She was of no importance to anyone but me. It broke my
heart, but what could I do? Nothing! I have never felt
more hopeless in my life when I had to leave her behind.
You should have seen the look on her face when I told
her."
I was shocked. He was crying. And quite suddenly Jed
groping my kid sister to an orgasm did not seem all that
bad, or all that important. Later that day he showed me a
photograph. It was obviously posed in a studio. Jed in
full dress uniform was sitting on a kind of chesterfield
with Lin Fi at his side. She was wearing a traditional
kind of high-necked kimono. He had an arm across her back
and his hand rested on the young girl's shoulder, in the
same way he did with Deri. I had to admit it: although
the girl in the photograph was around the same age as my
kid sister, she had a quality of beauty that rightly
belonged to a much older female. She was like a fully
mature woman in miniature.
A few days later, I remember it was a long weekend off
from work for both my parents, Jed suggested we go
camping. My folks agreed, but drew the line at Deri
accompanying us. My sister protested at the injustice.
She ran outside where Jed, who had been swinging on the
garden lounger, comforted her. I had no idea what he
said; the pair clammed up as soon as I appeared. All I
caught was Deri demanding, "You promise?" and Jed vowing
on his mother's grave and the pair gazing stardust at
each other. The outcome was that mom and dad took Deri to
Florida for the weekend while Jed and I were away.
We set up camp by the side of the Arkansas, at a point
where it must be close on being the most beautiful river
in America. We soaked up the late afternoon sun, threw a
football to each other and generally fooled around. We
had planned on doing some serious fishing late at night,
because Jed said it was always best after dark. But
somehow things became slightly unstuck. Jed had brought
along a bottle of single malt scotch, a crate of beer and
an old ice box. It was not the first beer I had tasted,
but it was the first time I drank the full bottle which
became the first of several that night. I was light-
headed. Jed drank the whisky with lots of ice, but
resolutely refused to let me try it.
He had been telling me about Vietnam and the final chaos
in Saigon. "Your kid sister is a nugget." The comment,
oddly enough, was not as unexpected as it was sudden. I
blinked in an attempt to follow his reasoning. Being a
nugget was the highest compliment that could be paid to
someone in our corner of Kansas at that time. But it had
nothing to do with the war in Vietnam. I tried to follow
the leap from one subject to the other through an
alcoholic blizzard. "Genuine, pure 24 carat!" He had been
making such asides about her on and off all day. "Like a
little bit of perfection."
I found it hard to disagree - and it was not only the
beer that inhibited me. I liked Deri; I really liked her,
but she could be a right bitch and a rotten little
bastard at times. Nevertheless, I reckoned that we were
as close as it was possible to get in a brother and
sister without becoming illegal. Jed was not exactly the
proverbial fly in the ointment, but increasingly of late
he had displaced me in her obvious affections; she didn't
joke like she once did, and she had stopped coming into
my bed on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and when we did
have sibling time alone she always wanted to talk about
Jed.
I voiced my rambling thoughts, and Jed eyed me curiously,
then suddenly he said, "I was a virgin before I was
drafted!"
The confession confused me further. It was the way he
spoke. On the one hand it seemed to be a patronising
accusation, as if he knew I was still a virgin and felt
sorry for me. On the other hand, there was the tone of
voice to suggest it as a statement of intent. And I
thought to myself, "Jesus! I have to spend the whole
weekend with this guy, and we are sleeping in the same
tent!" I remembered the filling station fracas and the
bloodied face of the would-be smart guy, and thought,
"Christ! It could be me! What if he tries to rape me?"
As the night wore on and we sat drinking at our makeshift
campfire, however, I found myself relaxing and indeed
unburdening my soul to him. I had to confess: I didn't
even know how to jack off properly, and it was perfectly
true, I swear it!
"You're kidding me!" Jed gaped at me across the flames.
"I feel stupid doing it to myself." I felt every bit as
stupid trying to explain my difficulty to another male.
Jed shifted to sit beside me. "It's the easiest thing in
the world," he said. He had undone my flies, almost
without my realising what was happening, and was rubbing
my genitals. "Let me do it. I'll show you how easy it
is." He started pumping my enlarging meat. "The trick is
in the mind!" He snickered. "Think of a girl; one you
like, preferably naked!" He was animatedly pumping his
hand up and down. "Think of Deri! Coming into your bed!
Wearing only her knickers! And lying alongside you!"
I tried, I really did try, but the image that flooded my
mind was not of Deri. It was a shock to the system. I was
thinking of Shirley Verne wearing her short, button-up
dress that Jed had opened up to her crotch, and of him
probing under her loose panties and of her hungry eyes
fixed on my face. And I blew off! It was one of the most
exhausting experiences of my life. Sweat poured from me
as I lay like a soiled napkin on the grass. I could not
even make up my mind whether or not I had liked the
sensation. Later - it seemed hours later, but could only
have been a matter of minutes - I suggested that I do the
same thing to Jed. He sneered.
"I'd kill any man who tried to touch me like that!"
Again it was the oddest conflict of emotions: at one and
the same time I felt relieved and a bit more comfortable
with the idea of sharing a tent with him, but at the same
time I felt let down and tainted. It was good enough for
me to be jerked off by another male, but not for Jed. If
Shirley Verne had been capable of it, I am sure she was
have had the same feelings when Jed and I fooled around
with her with the deliberate intention of degrading and
demeaning her. I felt truly and enduringly sorry for the
kid and sort of half-promised not to treat her badly ever
again.
Part of my problem was that I could not erase the memory
of her image in my mind as I blew off. It was the first
time in my life, as far as I could remember, that I had a
genuine regard for another human being. I felt that I
should volunteer for the International Peace Corps or go
on a mission to the third world with the Red Cross. But I
knew there was not a blind thing I would do about it!
Jed blitzed into my reflections. He looked at me
dangerously and growled, "And I'd kill anyone who tried
anything on with Deri!"
Then, soon after that weekend, like a flooding of the
Arkansas or the trembling of an earthquake along the San
Fernando fault, like the tornado sweeping across the mid-
west plains or the mythical Greek thunderbolt, a series
of events occurred to shatter the shallow complacency of
our narrow little corner of Kansas.
Theodore Webb died from some rare form of blood cancer.
The shock came from nowhere. I had never spoken much to
the boy, perhaps no more than a dozen times in his entire
life, and until the week before his death, he seemed a
normally healthy, albeit spare, raw-boned kid. Deri
hardly knew him any better than I did; she met him at
school and had danced with him a couple of times at the
discos and fetes organized by the town committee.
His death, however, had a disproportionate effect on both
of us. Old folk in the town had died before and we had
accepted it as normal; old Mrs. Bartholomew, our nearest
neighbor died at the age of ninety-eight and we had
shrugged it aside as something that was bound to happen
when you were old; her husband lingered on for another
couple of years before he too died.
Theodore's death was something quite different. Mr.
Bartholomew's parents were alive during the Civil War;
Timothy's parents were born during the second world war.
It seemed so illogical and unfair. But it served as a
gruesome kind of preparation for what was to follow.
One immediate effect on Deri, however, was that she
started coming back to my bed, mostly at the weekends.
She also started asking awkward questions about God and
life and sin.
"We're going to die, aren't we?" she demanded one
Saturday.
I tried to make light of it. "I don't have any plans
about dying in the near future," I said. I pulled her
close to me to comfort her.
"I mean, some day!" she insisted. "We are all going to
die! Mom and dad, you and me, Jed; we are all going to
die!" Soft, silent little sobs made her body jerk.
"Not for a while yet!" I tried to reassure her.
"What about Theodore?" she persisted. "He didn't live
long." She looked up at me with moist eyes. "He wanted to
kiss me at the last town dance, and I refused, and he
pleaded because he said that he had never kissed a girl."
She began sobbing seriously.
I said, "Poor little bastard!"
"He tried to put his hand under my skirt and I slapped
his face! And now he's dead!" She was inconsolable for a
long time, then, quite suddenly she twisted upwards and
kissed me in the same way that Jed and her kissed - open
mouthed and tongue. She grabbed hold of my cock.
I pushed her away, a bit more coarsely than I had
intended. "No way!" I exclaimed. I really was outraged
this time. "Jesus Christ! Deri! Do you know what you are
doing? That's wrong. That would be incest and rape. I
could go to jail and they'd put you in some kind of
juvenile detention center and it would get into the
newspapers and dad and mom would probably lose their
jobs."
"Aw! Forget it!" She threw aside the bed covers and
stalked away from my bed. "Fuck you, Greg!" Gone were the
tears; the contempt had returned, cold disregard of any
close kinship between us. "I'll get Jed to do it!"
The entire town had turned out for Theodore's funeral. A
preacher came from Dodge City, a slimy, crafty-eyed
individual who ogled the females, young and no-longer-
quite-so-young, and talked about the dead boy being
cradled in the arms of Jeeeeeessssussss! Apparently the
Webbs belonged to one of those weird religious groups
that refused blood transfusions or transplants or drugs
in any shape or form, and this, according to the
preacher, was a measure of their faith in Jesus and a
demonstration of His truth in their lives. What was meant
to be a solemn send-off turned out to be a bit of a
French farce that left a sour taste in the communal
gullet.
Soon after the funeral the Vernes received word that
their adult son, whose existence came as a shock to the
rest of the town, had been arrested in San Diego and
charged with first degree murder. It struck me that we
did not have such a close-knit, know-everybody's
business, kind of community after all. What other secrets
were there in town still to be revealed? It was a really
eerie awakening to the facts of small town life. I
shuddered.
"The Webbs have offered to look after Shirley while we
are away," the girl's mother explained to my parents. She
shrugged. Her husband shook his head in assenting
despair. "Well! What are we supposed to do? What if she
turns sick?" The woman prodded her daughter. "And suppose
she needs medical assistance? Well! You know what the
Webbs think of doctors and drugs and medicines!" She
raised her eyes heavenwards for some sort of divine
corroboration. "And that preacher! My God!"
"Of course we'll look after Shirley while you are gone,"
said my mother. My dad nodded his approval, but he looked
doubtful. There was still a couple of weeks left of the
long school vacation. "Greg and Deri will take care of
her when we're not here!" It was assumed that the care
for the retard would be for only a day or two, a week at
the very most.
The girl stared at me with huge empty, hungry eyes. She
wore one of her baby short, tight dresses that buttoned
all the way down the front. It struck me that she had
really fabulous legs with firm tapering thighs and fleshy
calves. The contours of her breasts were clearly defined
and threatened to burst out of her bodice. If only she
were normal!
The thought about this vulnerable and sensually
attractive little dish in the same house as me, with mom
out to work most days and dad off on one of his
investigations, was having embarrassing side effects. I
was terrified anyone would notice. I let my clasped hands
fall in front of my crotch. Deri grinned wickedly.
And of course, the inevitable happened. Mom was off to
work at the break of day and phoned to say she would be
working late, and dad conveniently found that he had some
claim he had to look at in California. Shirley woke about
eight thirty in the morning and Deri woke me shortly
after.
"You'd better get up," she said. "Your dream girl is
walking about nearly naked. I think she has peed her bed
and she needs to be cleaned up!" She snickered. "And I
don't intend doing it!"
Shirley had found her way into the garden and was
swinging on our gate. She was scantily clad, to say the
least. Her nightdress was minuscule and almost completely
transparent and she had indeed soiled herself. I hauled
her inside, led her to the bathroom, stripped her and
turned the shower on her. She seemed to enjoy being
soaped and rubbed up and down. I rinsed her off and dried
her, then took her back to her bedroom and dressed her in
the shortest dress I could find among her stuff and the
briefest panties of Deri's.
After that she trailed after me all day. I admit that I
touched her up some while bathing her and dressing her,
and I recalled what Jed had said: 'It would be unfair to
get a kid high and leave her dangling!" Then I took her
back indoors, straight to my bedroom, laid her across the
bed, brushed back the skirt of her dress and splayed her
legs. And instantly shot off in my pants.
Continued in part 2...
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not "real life." Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 19