My Sister Jodi

Finally it was over. She lifted herself off me. I heard the girl leave, heard the shower. A few minutes later the door opened and they came back, removed my blindfold and untied me.

The girls agreed to never tell which "got my cherry" as they put it. Twenty years later I found myself living next door to one, married to one, and two blocks from the other -- and still I don't know, and they won't tell. Dammit.

Lord knows I've tried to get them to tell -- but they all do the same thing, giggle and shake their pretty heads. I suppose some things are ok to remain a mystery.

The next few weeks were heaven for me. In addition to cleaning Jodi's room every Saturday and helping her with "girl things" I also got to help Amy and Leah. By this time I was really good at doing a mani-pedi as well as shampooing hair, shaving legs and pits, and trimming the girls' bushes. A "bikini cut" this is called and I could bikini cut them without cutting or razor burn, which always earned me the "honor" of licking them to an orgasm or two.

Or three.

Then either Amy or Leah would ride me until I got my own jollies. I thought my sister Jodi was the most beautiful girl in the whole world but she would never allow me to enter her vagina with anything other than my tongue or finger. I really wanted to fuck my sister but after all girls control this and she said "No!" in no uncertain terms. I was happy with what I had and so wisely I didn't press the issue.

After a few weeks Leah began to "please" me more and more often. She gradually claimed me from the others: Although I was allowed to lick and suck them and do their "girl things" Leah gradually became the only girl I was allowed to fuck.

Which was fine with me. I adored Leah, her beautiful long dark hair which was so silky smooth when I washed and combed it or ran my hands through it while we made love. For that's what it had become, no longer fucking, making love. Leah and I began to date, to be seem publicly as a couple.

I continued to play football all through local college. We won two conference titles and once were ranked number two in the nation. There was a lot of talk about me, how I could write my own ticket at any pro team that drafted me. That lasted until the next to last game of my Senior year when two linebackers tackled me, one from each side. As luck would have it, another guy was hanging on my right leg which bent back at an impossible angle. When the bone snapped it was so loud it sounded like a pistol shot.

In addition to the fracture the tackle totally wrecked my right knee. I had to have it replaced, was on crutches half the year. I still limp a bit; I recovered rapidly but my football days were over.

So I focused on school work. I'd always made good grades; my Senior year I studied really hard and graduated.

I got really interested in police work. The more I looked into it the more interested I became. After graduation I applied and went to the police department evaluation. I passed the written stuff with flying colors but they had a kind of a running obstacle course that I failed because of my knee.

So for the next year I spent all my spare time exercising, running, jumping, preparing to take the test again. I'd never be a football player but I got into really good shape. Knee still hurt a bit but I learned to work through the pain.

Sure enough the following year I retook the physical exam and passed. Went to academy, graduated first in a class of about a hundred. Went to work as a traffic enforcement cop.

Over the years I gradually worked my way up, finally becoming a detective. I took and passed the sergeants exam. I have a job that is stressful but I wouldn't trade it for anything!

Leah had stuck with me through everything. I loved her more than anything and when I graduated from academy I saved up for a couple months and bought her a medium-ok rock. She said yes; we were married four months later.

We bought a house in our old neighborhood. Amy and her husband bought the house next door and Jodi married a couple years later and moved into a house a couple of blocks away.

We all remain good friends. Leah and I fuck (er, 'make love') like rabbits that resulted in two children, a girl and a boy, now six and four.

I still help my lovely wife Leah with her "girl things" and still get to lick her pussy whenever I do a good job (I always do). I'm happy with this but still remember the good old days, a different girl from time to time, licking them, holding them, watching as one or the other rode me. I think maybe one day all the children will be grown and move away; the girls still look terrific and will for many years to come.

And so I love my wife and my children and am totally faithful to my beautiful Leah -- but I still look back to the days Jodi or Amy will be mounted on my face, maybe Leah riding me, pumping up and down until I emptied myself into her beautiful warmth.

And so I am content.

Epilogue

I found this journal in my husband's things, dusty and packed away. I cried all the way through; remembering how things were for us was beautiful but at the same time painful. Everyone knows the story of his death; I won't rehash it here except to say I hope one day to be able to forgive the little punk who took so much from me, from my children.

We had twenty good years of marriage and another ten before that as boyfriend/girlfriend and that's a lot more than most people get I think, certainly more than I ever thought I'd get. Bill was a wonderful husband and father but everyone already knows that.

What they don't know, and he never did either -- he was my first and (so far my only) lover. I can't imagine being with anyone else, another man. Before my first time Amy and Jodi teased me, told me it would hurt and I'd bleed but it didn't hurt and I didn't bleed (bitches), probably ruptured my hymen on the bicycle I rode around everywhere as a kid. And so Bill never knew and I never told him.

I never had another lover, for me Bill was enough. He was the greatest, he always gave me several orgasms orally and a few physically, never less than three and sometimes into double digits; and so I stopped counting. Besides when you pass out you lose count anyway.

Other women would ask me if I was curious what it would be like with another guy and didn't I think I'd missed out? Then I'd hear them talk about going weeks or months without sex and when they did get it the sex was unfulfilling, and I'd think about the night before when Bill had spent an hour with his head between my legs, and how he wanted it every night; and I'd just laugh and say, "No, I don't think I missed anything."

And so to you my beloved husband, my best friend, my lover, goodbye. Your son and daughter love you in a different way but I'll always remember the gawky eighteen year old boy who became a football hero and later a public servant, a hero of a different kind. And my hero then and forever after.

And Bill darling I never told you -- but I was the one who got your cherry. The same time you got mine.

My love always,

Leah