textfiles/sex/EROTICA/I/inhand.txt

SITUATION IN HAND

By Sir Glans
                                                                   
Dena was not quite 15 when this incident happened. I was about 16 and a
half. She was my best friend's stepsister. A couple of years earlier she
had had a big crush on me. She followed me and Brad around a lot, hung me
on the phone whenever I'd call him, even though she didn't have anything
to really say.

Sure, Dena was cute even then, with her sandy-blonde hair in twin
ponytails, pretty face with big, blue, playful eyes and her body, which
was very healthy, well-formed and smooth-skinned. I recognized all that,
plus the fact she'd probably turn out a lot like Brad's stepmom, who was
really pretty and had what me and Brad had both referred to as "dynamite
boobs."

(Whispered midnight conversation, me and Brad, one night when I stayed
over at his house: "Jeez, I finally saw 'em. I mean, I really saw 'em,
right out there, bigger'n shit," he told me.

"Not down the top of her blouse?" I asked.

"No sir," he almost giggled. "She had taken a shower and I guess she
didn't know I was home from school. I'm in my room and the door's open,
see, and I hear her comin' down the hall. I didn't think anything because
she does that all the time, in her robe, of course. Well, the phone rings,
so she doubles back past the bathroom to the phone at the other end of the
hall. She answers and starts talking to one of her friends. Well, I looked
down the hall. She didn't see me, but I saw her in the hall mirror. She's
standing there with a towel wrapped around her hair, you know how they do,
and below that -- nothing! Bare-assed, buck naked, man."  With that, he
made the classic Coke-bottle motion with his hands.

My heart pounding at the idea, I asked him for details. He described her
boobs as "long and bullet-shaped, like a Caddy bumper, with huge pink
nipples twice the size of hard dollars, and they sort of swoop down and
forward." He also described her ass, hips, legs belly, and he told me,
"You shoulda seen how she was standing there and running her fingers
through her hair down there, man. She fluffed it up and then pressed it
down, fluffed it up and pressed it down. Not like she was paying
attention, you know. She was just doing something with her hands while she
was talking on the phone. It was so cool."

We weren't cool. We were so hot we jacked off. And then, after he shared
some more juicy details, we did it again, only this time we took turns
pumping each other's hot, hard dick. From what I learned in health class
that year, me and Brad shot enough cum that night to knock up every female
in the country. We weren't/aren't gay; it was just a kid thing.)

Anyway, I knew Dena was cute, but I couldn't relate to girls then. I could
get hot and bothered about the playmate of the month, about Suzanne Somers
on TV or about some babe in the movies. I could fantasize all over the
place. But deal with a girl Dena's age, live and up close? No way. So,
when she  was acting out her crush I would ignore her or blow her off. It
didn't take long for her to focus on something or someone else. That was
OK with me.


Back to when I was 16. One day, in April, I think, me and Brad had plans 
for after school. We'd gone in together on a remote control power boat kit
and we were going to work on it. Brad caught me in the hall at school and
told me he had to stay after for a makeup test and then run an errand for
his stepmom. He gave me the key and told me to go over to his house and
he'd get there later.

So, I let myself into his house, which was quiet like no one was home. I
headed down to the lower level that on one side was finished and like a
big living room, and the other side was like a basement and had laundry,
storage and workshop rooms. That's where we were doing the RC boat. But as
I went down the stairs, I heard this sound. It was like someone moving on
the furniture, plus panting and rubbing. It was very sexual. I froze for a
few seconds to listen. Then, I very cautiously tiptoed down a few of the
heavily carpeted steps. Halfway down, the stairway side wall becomes a
half wall, so I was able to peek down into the basement den. Wow!

On one side of the den there was this long, L-shaped sofa. Dena was at the
corner of it, slouched down, feet on the floor, legs open, shorts down to
just above her knees, panties halfway down her thighs, right hand working
away between her legs. She was working her hips, too, alternating between
up-down, fuck-like movements and sort of rolling her hips with an added
sideways motion at times. Her face, eyes shut tight, was deep pink and
looked hot. Her left hand was down at her side, where it had let go of a
book.

My heart pounded so hard I was afraid she'd hear it across the room, even
though the TV was turned on (with the volume way down). And of course, my
throbbing dick was stretching hell out of the front of my pants. I put a
hand down and pressed the palm over it.

Dena's movements caused her shorts to drop down to her ankles. A few
seconds later, she pushed her pink hip hugger-style panties down and
kicked them and her shorts off. She then opened her legs wider, put both
hands down to her crotch, spread her red, soaking wet pussy wide open and
began a deep, slow, massaging action, opening and closing it. Her hips
weren't moving at all. A minute or so later, her eyes opened and she
looked down at what she was doing! Her right index finger moved over and
did a little movement of its own, beside her clitoris, as her hands
continued the hard, slow massaging. Both of her hands glistened, as did
her thighs and the little bit of her buttocks that were exposed at times.
Some of her plentiful wetness evaporated into the air, arriving at my
nostrils as the exquisite female-sex smell that to this day can instantly
give me a tense hard-on.

Dena's next move was to roll onto her stomach, stretched out crossways to
my view. Her T-shirt only covered down to her lower back. This left me
with a terrific view of her pleasingly plump, wonderfully round hiney
working up and down, tensing and relaxing. She had one hand under her in
front, obviously still working in her pussy. She continued this way,
humping her own hand, I guess, for several minutes, sometimes stopping for
a few seconds.

When she sat back up, Dena brought her feet up onto the edge of the sofa,
legs still well open. Panting, eyes closed again, she seemed to pause for
a moment. Now, just one hand pressed her swollen sex, moving only very
slightly. Fearing the show was going to be over, I actually got a lump in
my throat. That was premature.

After this pause, Dena briefly returned to the two-hand, slow massage.
After maybe a minute more of that, her left hand moved up, under her
T-shirt, and began working at her right boob. Her right hand -- mainly her
right index finger -- went to work in her pussy, in a fast, apparently
light-touch, almost fluttering action. She began to buck her hips. Her
face contorted as though she was straining and reaching for something she
was having trouble getting a hold of.

"Oooh, mmmmm, oh, ohmmm" she went, halfway between murmuring and gasping.

Suddenly, she stopped everything. Just went dead still. Then, within
seconds, she started up again. Same lighting-fast,
fluttering-hand-on-pussy action with even harder hip gyrations. And now
she was really moaning out loud. Her head turned to one side. Her hips, at
the upside of her bucking, stopped suddenly, her belly seemed to tighten
and twitch several times. Her hand fluttered, stopped, pressed, fluttered,
stopped and pressed again.

"Oh. Ohhh. Ohhhmmmm. Ohhhmmmm!"

 With that, she sort of collapsed back down on the sofa, letting her feet
rest on the floor, her legs splayed to either side. Her chest was heaving,
she was panting so hard. But she had the sweetest, happiest look on her
face, even though her eyes were still closed.

My eyes burned, probably because I hadn't blinked for however long this
whole incredible scene lasted -- 15 minutes? Down below, my hard-on was on
fire with tingling and urgency. I ached to pull it out and stroke away.
Stroke away while feasting my eyes on this pretty, unsuspecting girl who 
had fallen into a pose that made my most obscene wet dreams of the time
look tame. I did blink a few times during this lull.

I started to unzip my fly and whip it out, then stopped and reversed
course. How could I cum all over the stairway, wall, whatever? I started
planning a safe, quiet exit to the bathroom. That was it . . . I'd be in
the can, so even if Brad suddenly showed up, there'd be a locked door
between my erupting . . .

"OH . . . MY . . . GODDDD!!!! A loud, high-pitched voice shrieked. Each
panic-stricken, cover-blowing, earsplitting word seemed to hang in the air
for several seconds before being slammed onward to oblivion by the next. I
swear, the wall beside me and steps beneath me shook with the sheer animal
force of it. My heart hit the top-floor button, rocketing to a point at
the back of my throat.


SITUATION IN HAND

(Second of two parts)

By Sir Glans

I snapped back to attention. Dena, now bolt upright, was looking straight
at me, her eyes bulging in horror, her mouth wide open and her hands
pushing her T-shirt down between her legs, which were suddenly jammed
together. Then, as if she'd just come upon a dead body or something, her
tremulous, quaking voice broke into a low-pitched, frenzied chorus:

"Oh! Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod . . ."

She started to get up, stopped, covered her face with her hands and went
back down.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod . . ."

 What was something was how she went back down.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod . . ."

Ever see one of those scenes where they demolish a building with
explosives, the way it sort of convulses and then goes down in a long,
slow, disintegrating crumple? That's how Dena went back down on the sofa.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod . . ."

 And then she rolled onto her side, into a fetal position, hands still
covering her face, and began shaking and sobbing incoherently. Her pretty
ass was exposed, but at this point I'm sure she neither knew nor cared
about that.

I had stood there, jaw dropped, I'm sure, staring at her for what seemed
like an eternity since that first scream. Somehow, my mind kicked in gear
and began racing. Brad could could show up any minute. I would then have
to explain this half-naked, mind-blown stepsister situation to him. Not
good. Not good at all.

I rushed down to her and sat down, gently touching her shoulder.

"It's okay, Dena," I said. "Look, you were just doing what comes natural,
and so was I. I mean, by watching and all." I continued on that way for a
couple of minutes, uncertain anything I was saying was getting through.
She stayed in her fetal position and continued sobbing. I was becoming
more and more aware that time wasn't on my side. I was so anxious, in
fact, that having her pretty pink hiney on display up close, with her
finely furred labia peeking out at my hot eyes, yet, caused no stirring in
my loins at all.

Finally, after something I said, she blubbered, "But you'll tell, I know
you'll tell. My brother, my parents, everybody in the neighborhood,
everybody in school is going to know everything. I know it. I just know
it." I took small comfort that she was at least forming words now.

Again, I tried to reassure her. I wouldn't tell her brother, wouldn't say
anything in the neighborhood or at school. Hell, how could I tell her
parents? ("Uh, excuse me, Mr. D----, but I dropped by your house yesterday
and caught your daughter playing pet the pussy without benefit of feline,
if you know what I mean." I mean, come on.) Irrational as her fears were,
I knew I had to do something -- and fast. 

In my fantasies, naturally, I was one bold honcho. Real life was another
matter. I tended to get shy in the presence of girls. The prettier the
girl, the more shy I would get. Credit inspiration or desperation, I got
an idea for dealing with this situation. It was bold honcho all the way.

"Dena, come on. You're coming with me," I said, swooping down to get her
shorts and panties, then grabbing her hand to pull her up. She kept one
hand mashed over her face and sobbed that I should go home and leave her
alone. I persisted, dragging her across the den and up the stairs. I said
a silent prayer for Brad to not walk in right then.

I took her to her room, shut and locked the door. She flopped down on the
bed, sobbing more quietly into the thick comforter. With a new kind of
lump forming in my throat, I took a deep breath, unbuckled my belt, with
trembling fingers pushed my zipper down and dropped my pants. I slipped
off my shirt, then stepped over to the bed.

"Dena, I want you to look," I said in a loud whisper. There was no
reaction. I repeated it, tapping her on the shoulder. She turned, raising
her head a little. Her face was all red, puffy and tear streaked.

"Watch me, Dena," I said, trying for a command presence. "You watch this
and don't make a sound. I mean it, no sound."

With a sudden, nervous jerk I tugged my shorts down, freeing my almost
totally limp dick and still-gorged balls. Looking her right in the eye, I
reached down, wrapped my fingers lightly around my dick and began working
it. It felt a little numb and cool at first, but I slowly began to get the
feeling back into it. Before her widened eyes and gaping mouth, it got up
to half hard in about a minute. Then it just sort of stayed there -- half
hard.

I reached to her, brought her hand to my dick and she took hold of it.
Looking stupefied, she just held it. I leaned down close and said, "You're
going to have to help me here. Play with it. Rub it. Get me hot."

Her head reared back. "But what do you . . ."

"Shush! No sound, " I whispered. "Just do it." I leaned in again and
kissed her full on the lips. She didn't pull away. She did begin breathing
in an interestingly heavy way, I noticed.

Slowly, tentatively, her fingers began moving around on my dick, down to
my balls, back up to my dick. She handled it at first as though she was
checking dimensions and weight. I put my hand on hers and molded it to a
grip, then made it work back and forth. I was getting harder, hotter. My
heart was racing, my temples pounding. Here I was, standing naked in front
of a girl in her bedroom -- a girl I had just seen doing the most
incredibly sexual thing I had ever witnessed. The whole scene had a kind
of dizzying unreality to it, kind of like the out-of-body experiences you
hear about.

I pulled her up in front of me, noticing she didn't let go of my dick on
the way up. I looked into her eyes and saw that a kind of intoxicated,
dazed and longing look had replaced the despair of a few minutes before. I
kissed her again, for a much longer time, working my tongue tip across her
lips, then gently between them just a little. She responded in a warm,
natural way. Her hot hand began to work to and fro on my dick as though
she meant business.

Without letting up on the kissing, I put my hand to work, rubbing her hip,
along her lower belly, down to her neat, dark little forest. She pressed
her lips on mine and pushed her hips forward. Wow! My exploring hand
ventured downward. I could feel she was getting hotter, right at the
surface of her silky smooth skin. I invaded the moist folds of her labia,
pressed my finger along the slick, rigid length of her clit. There was a
catch in her breath, then again, a firmer kiss and hips pressed forward.
My dickhead was mashing into her pubic hair. Yesss!

My precum was oozing onto her pumping hand, which in turn spread it all
over the tingling head of my fully loaded dick. I was very ready. We were
both panting now, between hot, wet kisses. That gripping, spasm-on-the-way
tightness deep in my groin, just ahead of my asshole, was making itself
known in a big way.

I wanted terribly to push this hot, willing, incredibly pretty girl back
and get on top of her. I sensed I could do it and she would yield with
enthusiasm. But I didn't do it. Some small, still-functioning part of my
fevered mind realized the payoff for hitting the jackpot there and then
could come nine unhappy months later.

I did gently push her down, onto her back, tugging her T-shirt up so that
she was exposed from  her pert, handful-size boobs to her swollen, syrupy
pussy. I leaned forward, against her open thighs, and adjusted her grip on
my dick. Then, working my hips as though I were fucking, I guided her hand
to grip and pump me in an exquisitely pleasurable way.

I let my eyes roam all over her. I looked at her pretty, heavy-lidded eyes
that switched gaze up and down, locking in with my eyes one moment, fixing
on my raging dick the next. I looked at her full, naturally pink, pouting
lips that were slightly open. I watched her strawberry-tipped boobs as
they bounced in rhythm to our movements. I looked at her hips, working in
time to my movements against her. I looked at her triangle of pubic fur,
small, shiny and neat. And I looked down between her legs, which she
obligingly opened so that I could take in her gaping, drooling sex.

The explosion began deep inside, suddenly, violently. Propelled by the
hardest, longest-lasting pleasure spasm of my whole life, my liquid fire
spit out all over her. Dena's working, jerking hand hung in there
perfectly through the whole thing, too, pumping, grazing the underside of
my dickhead with her thumb, hitting me right where it's so good. One, two,
three, four, five, six times I spurted, raining long, hot, wet gobs of
pearlescent semen all over her. When the jerking stopped, one last blob
formed at the tip of my dick. Without any prompting on my part, Dena
raised up, leaned forward and put her lips to me down there. Timidly, then
eagerly, she took my dickhead into her mouth, gently loving it with her
tongue. If I had died right there, I wouldn't have felt cheated. I had
never felt so close, so totally connected, to anyone in my whole life.

Then I crumpled. I went down beside her, kissed her, then  rolled onto my
back, exhausted. We lay there side by side for several minutes, panting. I
could still feel her body heat from a foot and a half away.

A few minutes later, when I got myself back together, I told her in
whispers that we were now even. She had something to tell on me, just as I
had something to tell on her. I told her I knew she wouldn't tell for the
same reasons I wouldn't.

That settled, I began kissing and stimulating her again, even playing my
lips onto her neat, fragrant little bush. But before it came to anything,
we heard Brad out in the hall, heading for his room. I threw my clothes
on, slipped out Dena's bedroom window and split for home. That hurried
exit was the end of the most fantastic sexual experience I'd had up to
that time. But it wasn't the end of the story. Not by a long shot.

Just ask my brother-in-law, Brad.