Anonumous - The prodigal virgin

Edith breathed a sigh of relief that the torment was over. Her nerves were singing, and a torpor that was vaguely delicious had invaded her body.

He moistened his palm from the bottle of alcohol. “Just a touch on the lovely titties,” he murmured with a smile which passed very well for gay nonchalance.

“Oh-what words you find for-for me-for my body!” she expostulated faintly.

But since there seemed to be so complete a self-control on the part of her once-dangerous brother, she tremblingly allowed him to raise the fabric from her full and very lovely bosom. He gazed in delight, setting his teeth in a still successful attempt to maintain outward composure. “I think you are more wonderful than ever, sweet young sister,” he said. “And who has a better right to know that than I?”

He rubbed her breasts gently. The swoon-like fever of mingled pleasure and shame, in which Edith lay drooping and with closed eyes, was shot now with delicious thrills. She sighed softly, amorously. She thanked fortune that, with years, the animal which had lurked in her brother seemed tamed to a sort of gentleness, that she could trust him now to treat her thus without dreading madness on his part.

He put away the bottle, and fanned the flushed girl as she lay there, still breathing hard. He even jested softly about the vanishing of her pallor. She recovered slowly under his persiflage. She became able to banter back at him, to deny smilingily that she had been as much moved by “a mere rubbing-down” as he pretended to think.

A greater daring and a greater familiarity grew between them. Edith did not resent even his presumption in assuming-quite correctly, as it turned out-to know what maidens of her age harbored, with immense secrecy, in the way of private thoughts.

“If it makes you nervous to have your own brother rub you down, just wait until some strange man strips you to your lovely skin and does far worse things to you than that after you’re married,” he smiled.

“Oh, the nasty things you say, you pest!” observed his sister, flushing and twisting uneasily in her bed. “You would do well to go into your own room now that you’ve got me quite myself again. Besides-“

She looked about dreamily, as if in fear of interlopers who might listen to conferences. “Besides, I shan’t marry. I’ve resolved upon that,” she murmured. “It must be such an altogether upsetting state-at first anyway.”

“Ha-also ha-ha!” he grinned. “When I’ve already seen how you and old Hank Hamilton have fallen for each other, you can tell that to Sweeney! He has three of your photographs on his desk in our suite in college”

“Well, he is rather a dear. But what I said still goes.” she remarked.

So revived and refreshed was Edith now that she felt the hunger which had deserted her thus far on the trip. Her brother rang for the porter and ordered luncheon up from the buffet since the dining car was long ago closed and dropped from the train.

“Up you get, Snookums,” he said. “You shall eat at this small table.”

Even though she flushed, Edith did not feel it so very distressing now to slip from bed in her long but gauzy nighty under the eyes of her apparently calm and collected companion. She slipped her slender, aristocratic feet into furred slippers and cast a negligee about her hurriedly as she saw in the long mirror how her body gleamed through the thin nightgown.

It was after she had partaken with gusto of a surprisingly tasty luncheon gotten together by the porter that she and Herbert became high-spiritedly playful in a way reminiscent of their earlier childish frolics. They played a little game called “Sight Unseen,” in which one of them pressed the backward-extended fingers of the other against some object-coins, an umbrella, a kerchief, varied articles-which must be appraised and identified by the mere fingertips.

Mischievously, Edith doffed a slipper. She laid a soft and rosy heel against his fingertips, which, by the rules of the game, must not be moved to aid in identification. And when he guessed that it was her chin he felt she gurgled with triumphant laughter.

They kissed every little while in glee, a long-omitted childish habit of theirs. The warmth and fragrance and dusky charm of the girl began to have a rare but well-remembered effect upon Herbert’s senses. She had slipped off the silken negligee at his suggestion-for it was rather oppressively warm in the compartment despite the open window, and her pinky-white nakedness was ill concealed-not at all concealed, in fact, when she chanced to be between him and the light-reflecting mirror.

She was sitting now in a little chair, eyes front and both slim hands extended behind her, awaiting her next test of astuteness in divination. If she could have seen his face and the glow in his dark eyes as he bent above her now from the rear, Edith might well have started up in dismay instead of laughing merrily as she defied him to fool her again.

For the unfaithful nighty had fallen well away from her lovely bosom and the light so fell upon her now that the tenuous silk of her sole garment was merely a mist about her fine body. His fingers working nervously, Herbert was silent and staring:

“Old slow poke,” she called him lightly as he delayed to put her to the test. “Chocolate or gloves that I guess it right away this time.”

His features strained, his brow furrowed, the boy was silently fumbling about his person. His body throbbed with feverish excitement as he caught one of her hands and laid the fingertips on a smooth, warm, hard something. “Heavens, me just a moment”! she said bewildered. “I thought it was skin at first, but no, let me move my fingers just a fraction of an inch. It seems round, warm-the ball, maybe, of one of your hands? No? Don’t tell me-give me a chance. If only I could move my fingers I’m sure I could guess it easily.”

“Move them as you like, use both hands,” he said huskily.

He brought her other hand to join its mate. “Oh-o-o-oh-what-what!” stammered Edith.

Both her white hands were now exploring, curling, clasping, investigating. “How hard-and long-and-what is this-hanging?” breathed the girl.

One groping hand had touched the dangling sack of his testicles. And still-such was her entire ignorance of the male anatomy-she did not comprehend the shameful thing her brother’s lechery had led him to do. It was the hair which first enlightened her.

“Hair!” she gasped. “It’s part of you. Oh-oh, Herbert, Herbert-how could you-do such a thing to me!”

Her hands retreated to her scarlet face. Her almost nude body trembled visibly.

“It’s what makes me a man-“ he whispered in a rosy ear.

She was silent, shuddering, for a moment. And then: “I know-I knew-I guessed it!” she wailed softly. “What an unspeakable thing to make me do, Herbie!”

“Well, good heavens, you have the same right to know about men-about me-that I have to know about you!” he muttered. “And you didn’t know-no, you didn’t know, you’ve never seen one, have you, limp or stiff, as mine is now?”

“No, no, no!” she panted. “I haven’t and I have no right to!”

“Just take it, dear. You needn’t even look at it if it scares you. But learn, at least, what it is like.”

As he took her wrists lightly Edith’s hand fell from her reddened face. As in a stupor, with shamed and impassioned curiosity, she let all her fingers be drawn once more to her brother’s virile nakedness. “Oh-oh-h-heavens!” she whispered. “How smooth-and how hard and warm-and how terribly, terribly big! Does such a thing as that really have to go-inside a girl? It’s incredible-no, no,-I shall never marry!”

He chuckled almost savagely, wrought into foaming lust by his young sister’s timid but thorough investigations. “You will marry. You will adore a thing like that. By God, I have a notion of marrying you myself, of taking you, darling. Take off your nighty. You’re so wonderful, so lovely. How marvelously happy we could be,” he muttered. “Edith, let me hug you all naked for a minute!” “Oh, you frighten me so, Herbert!” cried the panting girl. “Now you’re the way you were those other times! I-I shouldn’t have touched you!”