Native Sister

Tara's was an old open-top Jeep, beat to hell from weather and use but still solid on its chassis. She was an expert with the clutch and obviously knew this road like the back of her hand. Despite my would-be Special Forces toughness and survivalist profession I found myself gripping the "oh-shit" bar in front of me pretty firmly for a while. To distract myself, I glanced over at my sister, trying to see if anything had changed about her since the last time I'd seen her.

Her dirty-blond hair was longer, hanging well below her shoulder level in a simple pony tail. Her smooth skin was very bronzed, the tan giving her a very healthy glow. She was still slim but not too skinny, thankfully. Living out in the wilderness, well away from hamburgers and ice cream, people can lose muscle as well as fat. But I could see from Tara's toned arms, bare in her white tank top, that she was very healthy.

In looking at the shape of her arms, I suddenly found myself locking onto her breasts. For a tall slender girl, Tara's chest was pretty sizable. I couldn't begin to guess cup size or anything like that, but each breast had to be a good handful, no, a double handful each! They were firm and moved heavily with the motion of the Jeep. I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra....

Oh, my god, I was getting an erection. From my sister's tits!

I swallowed, shifted in my seat, and looked away. Just boobs, right? Perhaps I was still just a bit worked up over the serious case of blue-balls I got from not being able to fully penetrate Karin. The penis didn't know the difference, right? But the brain did, and I blushed in shame. Fortunately, Tara had been concentrating on her driving and hadn't noticed my stare. As we drove along, she caught me up on some key bits of information I'd need to know before we got to the village, and I refocused my attention on her words so as to get my mind out of the gutter.

"The people I'm living with and studying are called the Kasabai," she said, adding "not to be confused with the Kombai or the neighboring Korowai tribes."

"Oh, of course not."

She glanced at me, saw I was grinning. "Smart ass," she said. She looked straight ahead again, shrugging as we bounced over a large pothole. "Actually, you may have heard of the Kombai. These British guys did a documentary series on them a couple of years ago. They lived with the tribe and became adopted by them. They were able to gain incredible knowledge from the culture. I'm doing something sort of similar to that with the Kasabai."

"You're filming a documentary?"

"Oh no, nothing that fancy. They had a whole camera crew. I'm just doing my own humble research. But I'm pretty excited about it because this is the first time the Kasabai have allowed a Westerner to live with them."

"That's great, Tara! Your doctorate is assured." I watched her grin, white even teeth glowing in her tanned face. I then asked, "If they're such a closed society, won't they be a little apprehensive about me, an unknown outsider?"

Tara glanced at me again, then back at the road. She shrugged again. "Well..." She hesitated for some reason. Strange: I'd never known my sister to be shy about anything around me. But she continued, "It would normally be a little awkward, yes, and they will certainly be a bit timid around you at first. But I...I worked out an arrangement with the elders which will ensure that you are quite welcome." Turning to me and seeing the curiosity on my face she added, "Don't worry, Cal. There's nothing to be afraid of."

I sensed there was more to be said about this, that Tara was holding back, but since I couldn't even begin to guess about what I was truly getting myself into I decided to trust my sister and enjoy the ride with no further questions. It was a ride that was to eventually take four and a half hours.

I did my best to keep from staring at her bouncing breasts.

By the time Tara slowed and brought the Jeep to a halt, the track on which we'd been driving could hardly have been called a road. In fact, we'd been in full four-wheel-drive for the last 90 minutes. I glanced back when we stopped, and if I hadn't known where we'd just come from I would've had a hard time figuring out which way would take us back to civilization.

"This is as far as we can drive," Tara said, hopping out. "Grab your bag and give me a hand with this tarp, will you?"

I took in our immediate surroundings when I climbed out of the Jeep. We were in a camp site, complete with a heavy canvass tent, a table under mosquito netting, a place for a fire, and four stacks of huge cases made of heavy-duty plastic. Whatever was in those cases was sealed tightly against any kind of weather. I threw my bag near one stack and returned to help Tara drape a huge olive-drab plastic tarp completely over the Jeep.

She said, "Other than driving John out and picking you up, I haven't had to use the Jeep in months. I'm glad it started up right away when I needed it." She saw me glance around the camp again and said, "This is only a kind of base camp where I keep my extra supplies. John and I stayed here the first couple of weeks only. Once we were accepted into the tribe, we've been living with them ever since."

"Cool," I said. I was getting into this now, the upcoming challenge of living like a native.

"If you want any more Western food, look into that third stack of cases and help yourself to whatever you can carry. But just so you know, we have another few miles to go on foot."

I went near the cases to grab my bag again. I said, "Perhaps a couple of bottled waters if you have them. But if you've managed to survive off of whatever food they feed you in the tribe, I'm sure I can survive too."

"If you say so." She smiled, opening a case and tossing me a couple of waters. "In the village I have a supply of tablets for the water you'll drink there, though my tests show little risk of contamination, amazingly."

"Good to know." I opened my bag and pulled out my old beat-up canteen and belt. I poured the contents of the bottled water into the canteen, then clipped it onto my belt. Also on the belt was my Navy survival knife and a flint. I closed up the bag, which had only a few other odds and ends—nothing too heavy—and slung it over my shoulder. I was ready for a good hike. I was wearing very high-quality boots (the one thing you don't go cheap on, trust me), light-weight cargo pants and a loose long-sleeved button shirt, all of a light, breathable fabric. "After you, sis."

We didn't go up or down any steep hills or mountains, but the terrain was not for casual strolling. A couple of times I started wondering if we'd need a machete, but Tara always seemed to know just where to slightly alter her course to keep us from away from the thicker vines and jungle debris. Above us, tall beautiful trees towered upward into the sky, forming a classic jungle canopy. Pure striking sunlight beams penetrated only here and there, piercing through the steam of the humidity. I kept myself hydrated with frequent sips from my canteen. It would take a couple weeks for my system to acclimatize to the weather here. Unlike Tara, who was quite used to it, I was sweating buckets and would quickly become light-headed and dehydrated if I wasn't careful, even if I didn't feel thirsty.

At one point Tara steered us alongside a stream, and we both splashed around a bit, letting the cool water rinse off our sweat and bring our bodies' temperatures down. While I was bending over in one direction, Tara playfully splashed water on my ass, soaking me to the skin. I quickly turned and scooped water right back her way. She half turned and caught the blow on her right side, which got soaked. We were both laughing at our sudden return to childhood antics, but I suddenly got very serious and very adult again when I saw that the water had soaked through enough of Tara's shirt to give me a distinct impression of the dark nipple of her right breast. What's more, her nipple was noticeably hard.

I swallowed and turned away, moving myself from the water.

When I turned back, Tara was already resuming our journey, merely glancing back to make sure I was following. If she had noticed me noticing her...her boob, she didn't seem to show any concern. We walked in silence for several minutes, and I used this time to chide myself inwardly and profusely for actually allowing my pulse to start racing after seeing an intimate part of my own sister's anatomy. It was ridiculous, and I was acting like a pervert. I tried to tell myself I'd seen her boobs before, several times in fact. But it was one thing to share the bathtub as kids, or get an accidental glimpse of sibling nudity growing up and sharing a bathroom. But as an adult, with adult parts...and adult desires....

Tara broke my reverie by explaining a little more about the Kasabai. "They have a very structured hierarchy," she said. "They have followed incredibly unique and specific customs for generations, which is a considerable achievement since their language is not written. Only passed on through elaborate story-telling. They are very weary of outsiders, because they worry that outside influences can tarnish their strict practices and throw their people into chaos. Westerners have been trying to observe the Kasabai for over fifty years without success...until now."

I was impressed. I asked, "How did you succeed when all others failed?"

She stopped and turned toward me. I was actually relieved to see that her shirt had dried just enough so that her areola was no longer visible.

"All the other Westerners," she said, "were men."

I looked at her for a moment, trying to tell if she was messing with me. I could tell she was being very matter-of-fact, but I could also see that she was quite pleased with her little triumph.

"You see," she continued, "unlike the Kombai and the Korowai, the Kasabai are a female-dominant tribe. Those 'elders' I was referring to earlier? They're women."

"I see..."

Tara smiled. "The world of anthropology is overwhelmingly male-dominated, so, as you would imagine, every Western expert who tried getting this tribe to open up to him was a guy. The elders would have none of it. The fact that I'm a woman, a woman of what they perceived to be significant influence—they saw that I was John's superior—is what opened them up to me. As simple as that."

"Really?"

"Well, that and the fact that I was very patient and willing to learn their ways as much as possible while trying to not overly influence them with my own Western way of thinking. That's one of the reasons I leave ninety percent of my gear at the base camp when I live among the Kasabai. The most complicated piece of equipment I have with me here is a digital camera and digital sound recorder. I have to take all my notes by hand."

"Is that a problem?"

"For me, no. But anthropologists of the twenty-first century—most scientists who work in the field, really—have become addicted to gadgets. Laptops, satellite links, processed foods, designer sleeping bags from REI...all the comforts of home. I'm perfectly happy to without all that crap. Like you."

"Me?"

She nodded toward my waist, "Look, you've got your water can, a knife and—what is that, a flint? I'd be willing to guess the only other things you have in your bag are a couple of spare pieces of clothing, perhaps a book or two. Maybe a flashlight?" She saw from my expression that she was absolutely right. "See? Any other adventurer would probably want a huge backpack full of all kinds of toys. But not my big brother!" She smiled. "We're going to make a great team, Cal."

I smiled back. "Can't wait. So, how much further?"

"Oh, we're here." She paused. "Well, almost...."

There it was again, that strange aura of hesitancy that had come upon Tara earlier, on the drive through the jungle. Reflecting back, I'd sensed this timidity over the phone too, when she'd first begged me to help her. I felt that I was about to find out why this growing sense of awkwardness was hitting us. I watched Tara carefully as she stepped over to a nearby tree and knelt at its base, turning her back to me. She pulled aside a few vines and revealed another of those heavy-duty cases.

She undid the snaps on the lid and said, "The village is just through those trees, about a hundred yards. But...I need to...change first."

Curious. "Into what?"

"Well...not exactly into...." She stood and turned. She was holding something in her hand. It appeared to be a sort of belt with decorative beads woven with thinly split dried reeds. She crossed over to me and held the belt out. "Hold this for me, please."

Looking down at the belt, I said, "Impressive. Pretty detailed craftsmanship for a people who use no machines." I was trying to sound sophisticated, getting into anthropologist mode. I glanced up at her. "You have to wear this?"

"Yes. But...well, only that."

I blinked. "Come again?"

Tara glanced down and fiddled with her fingers in front of her. She said, "Listen, Cal, I know this is going to be a little weird at first, but the thing with the Kasabai tribe—actually with all of the tribes in this region—clothing does not exist."

I swallowed. What a concept: clothing does not exist. I could readily recall flipping through any random edition of National Geographic, or flipping around on channels like Discovery or History, and of course there would occasionally be some images of naked natives running around. For some reason, however, I just never thought of that being the case here. To be more specific, it never even remotely occurred to me that my sister would be buying into the concept.

She was staring at me now, probably expecting me to flip out. I took a breath. I had to be clear about this.

"Tara," I said, "are you telling me that you're going to be walking around—naked—wearing this?" I held up the belt.

"Yes, Cal."

"In front of me."

She nodded. "In front of everyone. Think of it as a nudist camp. Everyone's naked."

"I'm not everyone. I'm your brother."

"I know, Cal. Believe me, this isn't going to be any easier for me than it is for you. But I've come too far with this tribe. The work I'm doing here is going to make my career. I'm actually on the verge of a huge breakthrough into one of their secret traditional ceremonies. And if it means I have to let you see me naked, well...I can live with that."

Now I was getting angry. I paced around a little. Finally I stopped and glared at her. "You deliberately waited for me to travel ten thousand miles from home, then another six hours through a jungle to tell me that I would soon be staring at you naked."

Tara smirked. "You don't have to stare."

"Oh Jesus," I bellowed, walking away from her.

Tara caught up to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Cal, please." She nudged me to face her. I did. She said, "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I know this is terribly awkward for you, but I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"That you would say no. That you wouldn't help me."

"So you tricked me?"

"I didn't trick you, Cal" She glanced down again. "I just...didn't tell you all the details."

"Tara, this is a pretty fucking major detail!"

I'd let my voice go up in volume on that last outburst. It shut Tara up completely. She turned and walked slowly back toward the case. We stood away from each other in silence for a few minutes. I gave some serious thought to the situation. I considered what might have happened had Tara told me over the phone that I would have to look at her naked throughout my time in the jungle with her. Would I have said no? I certainly would have hesitated. I'm sure there were times, especially during puberty, that I was intrigued by my sister's body, and perhaps I had even thought of her in a sexual way from time to time. But I was a full-grown adult now, and I was supposed to have command over such unorthodox Freudian feelings.

But here it is: I am an adult. Tara is an adult. She is willing to strip nude in front of her brother for the sake of science and learning. Will it be really fucking awkward? Yes. Will the world come to an end? No.

I sighed and walked over to Tara. Hearing my footsteps, she turned to me and I said, "Look, I'm sorry about overreacting. But I hope you didn't think I was just going to shrug and be cool with it the instant I found this out, right?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. I knew it would shock you." She shrugged, then offered a slight grin despite the situation. "I suppose it would've been stranger had you simply accepted the idea out of hand."

I had to chuckle at that too. "Come here." We stepped toward one another and hugged. Peace was made. When we parted I said, "Look, I'm willing to go along with this, but don't expect me to be very comfortable with it. At least not for a while."

She nodded, and I could tell she was trying to contain her relief that I was going to support her. She said, "That's why I picked this spot, near the village, to reveal this information—and myself, actually—to you. It's important that when we enter the village you do not act awkward about the fact that I'm not wearing clothes."

"Okay."

Suddenly it got very quiet, just the sounds of the jungle. We stared at each other. In a strangely comic way, we both simultaneously realized that the only thing left now was for Tara to strip. With a sheepish grin and a "here goes nothing" shrug, Tara bent over to begin unlacing her hiking boots. I watched her for a moment then turned my back to her. I knew I was going to see my sister naked very shortly, but I would at least be a gentlemen and not ogle her while she disrobed.

Behind me I heard the rustling of clothes. Tara, her voice a little hesitant, said, "It's funny, I actually feel somewhat constricted wearing Western clothes now. I've been going around in the buff for so long, it becomes quite comfortable."

"I guess it's liberating," I said uneasily. I heard a new sound now, like pieces of plastic bumping together, and I realized it was the belt of beads in my hand, which had begun trembling.

"Yeah," Tara was saying, "I think I'll have to join one of those naturist colonies when I get back to civilization." A pause. "Belt, please." I levered my arm backward for her to take it. I felt her lift it from my hand, then heard the jostling of the beads as she presumably put the thing on. This was followed by the sounds of her footsteps retreating slightly, then the clamping sound of the case; she was probably putting her Western clothes into it.

Finally, she said, "Okay, Cal."

"Okay, what?"

"You might as well turn around, silly. You're going to have to get a look sooner or later, and I want to get it over with before we go into the village."

"Okay," I said weakly. I suddenly flashed back to being 12 again, about to peak through my neighbor's window and see the naked form of a live full-grown woman for the first time: Mrs. Durham. She liked to vacuum in the nude, all five-foot-two, two-hundred pounds of her....

I turned. I gasped. Tara was no short, fat Mrs. Durham.

Tara was, in fact, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

And she was my sister.

My head began swimming as I took in the sight. Being tall and slender, Tara was not exceptionally curvy, but she sported full rounded breasts that some might consider a bit too large for her frame, perhaps even fake. But I'd seen the way they'd bounced and jiggled with liquid perfection in the Jeep. They were indeed natural and they were mesmerizing. Her areolas looked dark despite her golden tan, and she sported pert stubby nipples. And Lord help me, they appeared to be erect.

Below those perfect breasts was an unusually long and completely flat stomach and torso. Whatever diet Tara enjoyed with the natives was low in fat but clearly rich in protein, and being active in the jungle meant virtually no excess meat on this incredibly toned woman.