Hugh Kissasse - A Little Night Nookie

The book that had arrived in the brown paper wrapping was a whole lot better than any books I'd ever seen before. After looking at a few of the pictures, I started feeling wonderfully warm. I thought of that night with my brother Harold-instinctively I slid my hand down and began rubbing my crotch, turning the pages absent mindedly.

There was a photo of a girl with perfectly enormous breasts, all spread out in a weird position, with one rather good-looking young man pushing his dong into her cunt, and another one in a sort of straddle, so she could suck on his thing, which was the size of a salami, I swear. From her expression, and theirs, everybody was enjoying themselves. I wasn't though; I was plain envious-mostly of her development.

People have said I'm a bit overdeveloped for my age, but in that town, that didn't mean much. I didn't think so anyway.

Then I jumped up and opened the bathroom door so I could look in the mirror, and just stood there-dissatisfied. I have this good thick crop of hair, which I was wearing in a couple of braids just now, and I was wearing my house pajamas. I opened up the jacket front, and stared hard.

Mine were just nowhere, compared to those in the picture; about the size of apples, and the nipples weren't any bigger than pale pink dimes. They'd never get to be that size, I thought, no matter how enthusiastically Bo squeezed them-the way he had been doing lately down at the Passion Pit That was about Bo's limit, though if the movie were long enough he got as far as snapping at my pantie elastic once or twice.

Then there was the matter of hair; the young woman in the photo had an elegant triangle of thick fur, and me? Well! I had decided to check again, and undid my pajama bottoms, and dropped them. Fuzz as I thought. My brought Harold had more hair than that on his chest. Phooey.

I didn't put my p.j.'s hack on, because I was feeling warm and my skin tingled a bit- maybe the effect of the book. I flopped on the bed again, on my back, and took another long, envious look, turning the pages.

Now, this one was peculiar, I thought I hadn't known one could do that with such a large candle; I'd already tried it several times with a small candle, weeks and weeks before, and the first time wasn't any fun. Then, the second time, it felt nice, but nothing to write home about. Possibly, if I got a really big candle, I thought, studying the photo, I could have as much fun as this girl seemed to be having. And then, oh jeepers, I did something. I flipped at my clitoris with my finger-I went twang all over, and jumped about a foot straight up.

Well, for a couple of minutes I was just socked out I mean, I just lay there, damp all over and stars and colored lights rolling around in front of my eyes.

When I started beginning to feel a bit better, I just shut the book, got the wrapper back on real fast, and slid out the door and down the stairs, dropping it on the hall table where Harold would find it I mean, it scared me. And just as I ran back up the stairs, naked as a jaybird, who do I hear coming up the walk but Harold, naturally. It wasn't so much seeing me without my clothes on, because I suspected he'd done that quite a few times already, the lecher, but if he guessed I'd been at his book, all hell would break loose.

I got into my room, and in to the tub, where I was soaking comfortably when Harold came trotting upstairs. He didn't even know I was home, I thought, so I tried not to splash as I got out and dried myself. The tub hadn't done what I had hoped it would; I was still feeling very peculiar. I wondered if this was what a girl I knew had meant by saying she was horny.

I flopped on the bed and listened. I could hear Harold in his room and. his shoes thudded on the floor; then, the bed creaked a bit Alter a minute I heard the bed creak again, several times, in a regular way.

What Harold doesn't know-because I never told him-is that the peephole he managed to fix up in his bedroom wail to look in at me isn't the only one. I made a much better one in my bedroom closet, from which I can see Harold's room just fine. So I went on in, put my eye to the hole, and froze.

There was Harold, all right, flopped out on his back on his bed with that book in one hand and his wang in the other, and pulling away on it He was all naked and he wasn't half had, for a big yellow-haired lump. But that thing of his, in his hand, was a real surprise. It wasn't anywhere up to those gigantic pricks in the book, but it was a heller for a boy of sixteen-though I had to remember I was no expert on comparative sizes. The only one I'd ever gotten close to was old Bo's-and the time I accidentally-on-purpose grabbed it when it popped out of his fly during a double feature… well it retreated like a scared snake into a hole.

Harold's didn't look like it was about to retreat at all-not from where I was. It was big long, and flushed-looking, with a lump of a head on top; and while I was at it, I noticed that Harold had a lot of hair, not like me, he had a real bush. But he was so busy I doubt he'd have noticed anything, even my breathing-which was pretty hard. He just kept flipping the pages with one hand, and himself with the other, moving around and kicking. And then, all of a sudden, he let out a big groan, and squirted a lot of creamy-looking stuff. After that he lay back and, closing his eyes, went a little limp, and so did his fascinating cock, darn it!

I just stood there, listening to his breathing for a while, and studying that thing of his. Of course-I kept telling myself-you aren't supposed to do it with your brother, because that's called excess or something like that, but looking isn't doing, is it?

The way Harold was snoring, I took it for granted he was not going to wake up unless there were an earthquake, and I'd had experience trying to wake him up. So I thought it might be kicky just to slide in and have a closer look, since he was lying there on his back, ready for inspection. I tiptoed out of my room (and, incidentally, completely forgot to put anything on, being in such a hurry) and into Harold's room, quiet as a mouse, and right up to him, where a ray of afternoon sunshine fell on his limp soldier.

Oh, gee, I thought, isn't that too bad, poor thing, all bent over and shrunken that way when it looked so marvelous before. So I gently reached out and touched the object and ran a finger down over his balls, a pair of plums.

Was I ever surprised? That dong of Harold's went right up as if somebody had a string tied to it-zip. It gave me a weird feeling of power, as if I'd pressed a button and released an atomic bomb or something like that There it stood, quivering a bit, straight up, and Harold still sound asleep, though he grunted and shifted a little. I bent over really close now and couldn't resist one more touch and it grew a full half inch. It was fascinating.

Staring at it, I wondered how the girl in the book had managed to put such a big one, bigger than this, in her mouth, and what it taste like. I was hypnotized. I bent over, closer and closer, kneeling on the bed beside Harold now, and almost as if it were an accident, I opened my mouth and came down on his quivering cock. I remember thinking, in a confused way, that he hadn't awakened at being touched before and maybe… well, there I was, with his cock between my lips, my tongue on it, and I just tasted it a little. Faintly salty, but nice; I gave a small sucking motion, like a popsicle.

Harold emitted this weird sound, between a gasp, a choke, and a laugh, and flung up his hands, which landed right on my crotch. He dug fingers in and I went absolutely ape. I sucked three or four long ones, not being too careful about teeth either, while his fingers stirred around on my cunt, and he made some more noises.