Friday Morning

When I awoke, Barb had already taken the car and gone to work. Classes had ended for me. Having just graduated with a degree in Physics, I was preparing to teach a course in Computer Programming during the summer session before starting graduate school in the fall. The course didn’t start for two weeks, so I was still planning my lectures and preparing materials for the students.

I glanced over at Barbara’s night-table. The silver tray had been cleaned and put away. I was thinking about how intense our love making had been last night – certainly a night to remember. Barbara was amazing when she wanted to be. But, I couldn’t get out of my head the last thing she said to me. ‘If something happens. Please. Don’t ever tell me.’ It was as if she already knew I wouldn’t be able to resist whatever Susan had planned. That was of course ridiculous. I wasn’t some hormone-crazed school-boy.

It was still early and the house was quiet, so I lay in bed for a while, gently stroking my cock and thinking about all that had happened last night. I was inclined to stay in bed, maybe masturbate and fantasize about Linda, the first girl I ever had sex with. But, on the other hand, we had Barb’s sister, Susan, as a house guest for the next few days, and as her host I felt compelled to get up in case she wanted breakfast or coffee.

Out in the kitchen, Barb had left a pot of coffee on the stove. I lit the gas to warm it slightly, poured myself a cup and went out onto the front porch. The air was cool and crisp. It was a beautiful day and the Times had been delivered. I sat down at the small red café table to enjoy the morning, the coffee and the newspaper.

Susan was still sleeping in the front bedroom, which had two windows onto the porch. She was my wife’s younger sister—still in high school and suffering the flood of sex hormones typical of her age. I was 22, married to Barb for two years, and (last night excepted) was still unable to get enough sex. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being attracted to Barb’s sister. She looked a lot like Barb, but was younger and thinner, with very-dark, long straight brown hair. Her countenance was dark, too, which wfas part of the attraction — a bit Gothic, long before Gothic was hip. When Barb wasn’t watching, she liked to tease me, mercilessly. But, I knew enough to steer clear.

Birdsong in the Morning

Mornings at Lake Swensen are very quiet. It was almost 7:30 and by this time even the morning birdsong had gone silent. Being summer, all the windows were open including those to the front bedroom. As I sipped my coffee, I thought I heard a faint rustling from within. It sounded like a little mouse scurrying about under the covers. Little by little, it became clear to me what I was hearing. Susan, was lying in bed masturbating.

I wasn’t particularly surprised. I even thought for a moment of going back to my own bed and doing the same. But instead, I found myself compelled to listen — waiting for her orgasm. I slipped my hand under the waistband of the thin cotton pajama bottoms I was wearing. Maybe, I would quietly masturbate right here while listening to her climax. I was getting a nice hard-on, when a small involuntary cough gave away my presence on the front porch. The rustling immediately stopped—all falling silent in the bedroom. I didn’t want her to think I heard her, so I set down my coffee cup—loud enough, so she would be sure to hear it. Then I picked up the paper and folded it to a new page. I hoped she would assume I hadn’t heard anything and go-on with her business. I waited, trying to make little “normal” sounds — hoping she would continue.

My patience was rewarded when after a few minutes, she started again. She must have felt secure that her morning activities were going unnoticed. I could hear everything and was beginning to get excited thinking about her, rubbing myself and waiting. But it’s hard to listen, masturbate, and make natural-sounding noises — all at the same time. She must have noticed the unnatural silence on the porch and become suspicious, because she stopped again. I waited.

“Are you out on the porch?”

Her question punctured the silence and the erection inside my pajamas went limp.

I cleared my throat. “Yes. I’m having coffee and reading the paper.” But then I couldn’t resist adding, “And, I think I know what you’re doing.”

“Wha’d’ya mean?”

“Sounds to me like you’re masturbating!”

She fell silent for a moment, then she said, “No, I’m not!”

“Well, then get dressed, come out, and have some coffee with me.”

Morning Coffee

A few minutes later she made her appearance and sat down at the café table—a cup of coffee in her hands. When I looked up at her, she blushed and looked down at her coffee, her long dark hair hiding her eyes.

“Sorry. I didn’t intend to overhear you.”

She didn’t respond, so I continued,

“Look. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You must realize that everyone does it — guys, girls, old, young—everyone.

“Yeah? She paused, “You?!!”

There was an icy edge to her voice. So, I responded as nonchalantly as I could.

“Sure, when I feel the need.”

I think she was actually surprised by my honesty. There was a long silence before she spoke again.

“Well. Just don’t tell my sister. OK?”

The icy edge was gone.

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re married. Don’t you tell her everything?”

“Well, yeah, of course, but she doesn’t have to know…”

I paused, then added, “Look Susan, I am as embarrassed about overhearing you as you are about being overheard. So, we’ll just keep it between us. OK?”

“Yeah. OK. Thanks.”

I was glad that Susan didn’t ask me why I was willing to sit and listen to her masturbating, if I really had no intention of doing so. She could have asked why I didn’t simply get up and go inside? I, of course, knew that my eavesdropping was quite intentional, even though I wasn’t sure myself why I had done it.

We sat silently drinking our coffee for several minutes. Susan looked out at the garden, no longer hiding her eyes from me. This little shared intimacy seemed to open a door for us. One I couldn’t resist exploring.

“You shared a bedroom with Barb before we were married. Didn’t she hear you…”

“No. I was too young… I hadn’t started, yet.”

I ventured on, “Had she?”

“Had she what?”

“Started masturbating when you shared a room with her.”

“Why?”

“No reason. Just curious.”

Susan hesitated.

“Yeah, she did. Pretty much every night. She would wait until she thought I was asleep, before she got started. But, I liked listening to her, particularly at the end when she would try to stifle her orgasm. Of course, listening to her made me want to try it, too.” She paused, then continued, “I remember when Barb changed schools, she had to be to school earlier that I did. So, that gave me time in the mornings after she left for school. There wasn’t much time, but I began to experiment. It wasn’t hard to figure out. I guess that’s when I started.”

There was a long silence before she added, “When did you start?”

“I don’t remember. Some older boys on my block showed me what to do. They had a place we would go in the cellar of their building with a big easy-chair. We took turns watching each other and talking about it. We even invited the girls to watch us one day. I’ve been hooked ever since.”

The Deal

I liked talking about sex with Susan. It was totally harmless, and I was feeling pleasantly aroused. I sensed that Susan was too and that she had lots of questions to ask. But, I wasn’t sure what to say next and the conversation lulled. We both continued to look out at the garden.

Finally, I broke the silence, “Speaking about ‘getting started’ reminds me that you never had a chance to ‘finish’. You must be feeling a bit frustrated. I know I would be.”

“No. It’s all right. Besides, once I get up… I’m up!”

“It’s not even 8:30. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to go back to bed.”

Susan replied sarcastically, “Oh sure! I finish my business—while you sit quietly on the porch and listen to the whole thing!?”

I said calmly, “Yeah. I’d like to hear you come.”

“Ewww. No way! Sounds kind of icky to me.” There was a long pause before she added,

“And if I did, what would I get out of it?”

I was intrigued by the fact she would even ask the question.

“I dunno. Wha’ d’ ya’ want?”

She paused in thought. I felt a strong sexual tension between us and I’m sure she did too. It was such an innocent question, ‘What do you want?’ and yet it was so loaded with illicit possibilities, particularly if Barb’s fears were correct.

Finally, she responded,

“OK. When I’m done, I want you to go in the bedroom, while I sit on the porch. Then, I want to listen while you masturbate and have an orgasm.” She paused and looked at me, “Deal?”

First of all, I couldn’t believe she was interested. But, making an even trade seemed fair and harmless enough. Besides, she had no doubt already heard me last night when I had a very noisy orgasm with Barbara. So, without thinking I offered,

“I’ll go you one better. You can even watch me, if you want.”

The words were no sooner out of my mouth when I realized and regretted them. I had moved things to another level without thinking it through. But, it was too late.

She quickly replied, “OK. It’s a deal.”

And so, it was agreed.

With a little more negotiating, it was determined that I would sit in the bentwood rocker in the bedroom, while she masturbated under the top sheet. I had to face away and was not allowed to watch. Further, when it was my turn, I would not get to use the sheet and she could sit facing me to watch, if she wanted.

We each agreed not to hold anything back, but to masturbate as if we were totally alone in the house and unconcerned that anyone would overhear us. We decided to close the windows to prevent the neighbors from hearing any of what was about to transpire. Finally, we agreed that there would be no touching or physical contact of any kind. We would only listen and in her case watch. I had insisted on this condition, fearing where any contact might lead.

My Turn Listen

With the details sorted out, there was nothing else to talk about. We sat silently for a few minutes, as we finished our coffee. I was pondering what we had just agreed to do, convincing myself that it was nothing more than innocent, if a-bit-kinky, fun. But, I was still amazed at how quickly she agreed to do it. When my coffee was gone, I hesitated, not knowing exactly how to suggest we start our little adventure. Then Susan surprised me by making the first move.

“Well. Ready?”

I looked up at her as she took my hand and led me toward the front door. She had never held my hand before, at least not in this way. I was excited but also felt an anxious hollow-pit in my stomach, unsure if I really was ready for this.

Love Nest

Once inside, I double-locked the front door, so even a key wouldn’t allow anyone to enter. Meanwhile, Susan had gone into the bedroom, closed the bedroom windows, pulled the shades and turned off the light. When I came in, the bedroom had taken on a cozy semi-darkness that seemed just right for what we were about to do. With preparations completed, she pointed me over to the rocker in the corner of the room.

“Turn it around, face the corner, sit down and stay right there.”

I did as I had agreed. My excitement growing in my pajama bottoms once again.

She added, “And, don’t peek!”

“I won’t. I promise.”

There was a pause during which I assumed she was undressing. Then I heard her getting down onto the bed, pulling up the sheet, and settling herself. Soon, I heard the rustling of the sheet—as before, but louder and more distinct than what I had heard from the porch.

“…getting started?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That’s what you wanted. Isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.”

I listened in silence, while she worked away.

She asked, “Have you ever watched my sister?”

“What. Masturbate?”

“Yeah.”

“No. But, I have masturbated her.”

“I know. She told me, when you were still dating.”

“She did!?”

“Yeah. Don’t you know, sisters share everything.”

“OK, Susan. That’s enough chit-chat. …time to get down to business. So, just close your eyes and imagine that you are having sex with your boyfriend, Dave.

There was another long silence, during which I could hear her working away under the sheet. It was taking longer than I expected.

“Getting close?”

“No. Not yet.”

There was another interval when I heard little involuntary sounds that followed her heavy breathing. I though she was making progress and began to anticipate her orgasm. But then,

“Oh, Robert! It’s not working. I can’t relax with you in here.”

I was almost relieved. “Look. Let’s forget the whole thing. I’ll just go outside, so you can finish in private. I won’t be able to hear you with the windows closed.”

“No. No. Wait. I was getting close a few minutes ago, but then I lost it. Let me try again.”

She kept at it, but now she wasn’t even beginning to breathe heavy.

I interrupted her. “Susan…”

“Yeah.”

“…just not happening. Is it?”

“No. Maybe if you went first.”

A lightning-bolt of panic ran through me. I was still unsure about letting her watch me. There was no way I was going to go first. Thinking quickly, I offered,

“Maybe some lubrication would help?”

“Wha’ d’ ya mean?”

“Barb uses it on days of the month when she’s not wet enough.”

“Well, maybe. I need to try something. This is taking way to long and I’m starting to get sore.”

“There’s some in my bedroom. Can I get up and get it?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m under the sheet. You can’t see anything.”

I looked away as I left the room.

Just A Little Help

When I got back, Susan was propped up on one elbow, the sheet barely covering her breasts. She held out her hand, “C’mere. Sit down and lemme see.”

I sat on the edge of the bed alongside her and held the lubricant for her to see. It was an 8 ounce plastic bottle with a pump-top dispenser. She took it from me, laid back on the bed and examined it carefully — reading the fine print. It seemed she was stalling.

“You use this with Barb?”

“Uh-huh”

“How?”

“Sometimes just before her period, she’s not wet enough for me to enter her easily… She fills a little squeeze bottle and uses it to insert some into her vagina. Then I put some on her labia.”

“Then you slip your penis inside her?”

“Yeah. It goes in real-easy.”

“Do you use it, when you’re,” she paused, “alone?”

“No. I masturbate dry. But, you might wanna try a pump or two. If you’re starting to get sore, it will probably make you more comfortable. Gimme it. I’ll put some on your finger tips.”

I reached out my hand expecting her to hand the bottle back to me.

Instead, she took my hand and rotated my palm upward. Then, I watched as she used the pump to cover my finger tips. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. It was obvious what she was telling me to do.

“Go ahead. You know what to do.”

She lifted the sheet. I cupped my hand to protect the lube and slipped my hand under. She lay back on the pillow and casually spread her hair as if we did this every day. She looked up at me as my cupped hand slowly slid down her abdomen. Soon, I felt her soft pubic hair on the back of my hand—then her little mound. She spread her legs for me. I opened my hand until her soft-young pussy filled it—my middle-finger resting on her slit. She only stopped looking at me when she slowly closed her eyes.

“Ummm. Yeaaahh. That’s much better.”

I thought to myself, Yeah, I know. If there was one thing that I felt totally confident doing, it was masturbating a woman.

Taking Her to the Magic Kingdom

I bent over and lightly kissed her forehead. Feeling her soft young well-lubricated pussy in my hand, I thought back to the first time I touched my girl-friend, also named Susan. Her best-friend and ‘big sister’, Linda, had seduced me when Sue and I had just started to date. Linda taught me how to please a woman – how to coax an orgasm from even a shy and nervous partner, like my girl-friend, Susan. Manual technique was part of it, but even more important was the way she taught me to get my partner to relax and trust me. From then on, every girl I ever dated has loved ‘my hand’.

I knew I could get Susan to relax for me and bring her to a nice orgasm. I thought to myself, ‘Thank you, Linda. In a few minutes, Susan will be thanking you, too—just the way Barbara did, when we were dating’.

I got comfortable – propped up on my elbow alongside her – my face close to hers.

Susan said nervously, “Go ahead. You know what to do.”

“Is that what Barb told you?”

“Uh-huh. I want you to do it.”

Barb had told Susan everything about the first night that I had masturbated her when we were dating. That first time Barb didn’t know that I already had lots of experience, so even though she was very nervous, I was able to coax her to a climax. Much later, I told her about Linda.

Now, with Susan there was no rush. I let her get accustomed to my touch—waiting to feel her body begin to relax. I softly sprinkled little kisses her face until they had their effect.

“That’s it Susan. You can relax.”

As I felt her relaxing for me, I started to lightly circle her clit.

“Ummmm. That feels so good.”

It wasn’t long before her breathing was beginning to change and I could see the tension beginning to build again on her face. But, this was a very different kind of tension. She was entering the early excitation phase.

“Susan. When you are ready, you’re gonna let go and I’m gonna take you to an orgasm. OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t be afraid or embarrassed. Just relax and let yourself go.”

I took some time before she gave herself up to me. But, I knew it couldn’t be rushed. I simply watched her face and it showed me everything I needed to know. More than anything, I wanted to watch her face as she experienced an orgasm.

Once on her way, her expression became serious – her mouth closed – taking deep breaths through her nose. Then as her breathing quickened and became heavier. She pressed her lips together. Soon, she held her eyes shut tight and furrowed her brow. I kissed her face again.

I whispered, “That’s it sweetheart…let it take you…”

I would let her excitement build, then I would gently let her down. I did that half a dozen times of more. Each time taking her a little farther. By this point, Susan wasn’t shy. As she got closer, she let me know when she wanted more — touching the back of my hand and lifting her hips.

Now, her legs were getting tense, and she pressed her head back into the pillow. Her mouth was open and her breathing still faster. She would make little sounds each time she exhaled.

It wasn’t long before she was trembling and vocalizing—

“Oh Robert. Please don’t stop. Please…”

All modesty had been abandoned, the sheet disheveled and below her little breasts. Her body was covered with perspiration.

“C’mon sweetheart, chase the sparrow for me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Susan’s Orgasm

Her breathing got faster, her back arched and her movements became erratic. She was dangling on the edge. Just a little push and over she would go. I paused to let her regain herself, then brushed my lips across hers. Her lips were taut, and she turned her head slightly to evade my kiss. I resumed my attention to her soft-young cunt. When I brushed her lips again, she tentatively returned my kisses – then more eagerly tasting my lips, until she slid over the edge of her orgasm. She vocalized barely intelligible things as her body convulsed. She was having a nice orgasm for me. It was loud, and she held onto me as she experienced each new spasm. I slid my finger in and out of her tight little cunt then back onto her clitoris, watching the expressions on her face change as she worked her way through a series of climaxes.

Experience had taught me just how long to keep my partners going and when to finally ease up. She never begged me to stop, but I eased up when I thought she had had enough. I kissed her lips again as I let her descend into the lovely post-coital haze that awaited her. I kept my finger inside her. I sprinkled kisses on her sweat-covered face as she gradually caught her breath.

She whispered, “Oh, Wow. Oh, Wow. That was amazing. Is that what you do with Barb?”

“Uh-huh…whenever she wants. Although, now there are things she likes much better.”

She repeated sleepily, “That was so good. No wonder she married you.”

She was beginning to drift off, so I gently withdrew my finger from her. She drew-up her legs, rolled onto her side, pulled up her knees and curled up into a fetal position. I wanted to crawl in bed beside her and take her from behind, just as I had done so many times with Barb. I managed to control myself. I was glad that Barb was wrong. Susan didn’t want to seduce me, she only wanted a nice orgasm. I stroked her hair while showering little kisses on her shoulder and the back of her neck.

She was saying something, but I hushed her the way you might a little baby. As she settled down, I tucked the sheet and a light blanket around her, so she wouldn’t get cold. Swaddled in the covers, she was already drifting off.

“Sleep well my lovely little vixen. Sweet dreams.”

Feeling less frustrated than I had expected, I went to the bathroom, taking one more deep hit of Susan’s scent before washing my hands. When I was done, I made a fresh pot of coffee and reinstalled myself on the front porch with the morning newspaper.

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