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Looking back, 1993 was one of the best years of my life. Nirvana, Radiohead and Pearl Jam all released fantastic new albums. Jurassic Park was at the theaters and The X Files began running on TV. The Cowboys, after winning only one game in the 1990 season, won their division in 1992 and went on to blow out the Bills in the Super Bowl in 1993. My Rangers looked like they were going to be killer in the NL West, with Pudge, Juan Gonzalez, Jose Cansceco and Raffy Palmeiro poised to destroy opposing pitchers. That was before I knew that they were all pumped up with steroids. That was also the year I got my driver’s license. Never mind I didn’t yet have a car, at least I had a license. Supposedly, my older sister and I shared my mom’s hand me down minivan, but that pretty much meant my sister had a car and I had to rely on my friends for rides. I planned to spend that summer mowing lawns or anything else that would pay so I could buy my own freedom machine. I already had some money saved from previous year’s odd jobs and birthday gifts. I wanted nothing to do with the minivan, and my dad said he’d help me get a truck if I came up with half the money. That was the summer before my sophomore year, and I hoped to make varsity in football and track, or at least earn a starting position on JV. Of course, like all the athletes at my high school, I was expected to attend Speed Camp that summer. Everybody dreaded Speed Camp, a two hour session that began at six A.M. every weekday during the long, hot summer and included everything from wind-sprints to weight lifting to flipping tractor tires. As a member of the girl’s varsity soccer team, my sister also attended, so at least I had a ride every morning. Though I dreaded Speed Camp, I have to admit I had never felt more vital or alive. My body was hard, without an ounce of fat on it, my eyes were clear and bright and I felt invincible. I fancied myself a he-man, though when I look at pictures now I realize how scrawny I was. I had just been introduced to pot, and smoked it with my buddies occasionally, but still hadn’t started drinking, so I woke up alert and feeling ready to take on the world every morning. Though still a virgin, my libido was in high gear and I thought of nothing but girls all day long. I masturbated constantly, and needed very little to get me going. The misses section of a Sear’s mailer would do the job, with its pictures of teens wearing modest white bras. If I was fortunate enough to get the mail when a swimwear catalog came, you can be sure my mom would never see it. Nothing was immune from getting sprayed. The walls of my shower, my underwear, my sheets; basically anything I was near when unable to control myself long enough to get paper towels or a washcloth in time. My poor mother, who did all the laundry, had to know I was jerking non-stop, but I couldn’t help it. My dick felt like it was carrying a ten pound load every moment of every day. The new found pleasure I found from orgasm was more powerful and more intense than any time since then. While we had a family desktop computer, those were the days before availability of internet porn, or at least before I was aware of it. I was painfully shy around girls, but terribly interested in them. My friends and I talked about girls all the time, occasionally adding the obligatory lie about the girl we had lain in summer church camp or whatever, but the truth is, we were all equally clueless. I had the advantage of an older sister two grades ahead of me, so at least I got to be near her foxy friends when they hung out at our house. They were mostly teammates on her soccer team, so they were in great physical condition. They hung out in her room, sitting on her bed, giggling, talking and listening to bullshit dance and pop music, from bands such as Color Me Badd, Janet Jackson, and the like. The good thing about being her escort little bro is that the girls didn’t even notice me, so they acted like I wasn’t even there. That meant skimpy nightwear and juicy conversations on sleepovers. My bedroom was connected by a wall to hers, so when they spent the night, I listened in on their conversations with a glass to the wall. Their conversations were mostly benign, about the latest hit songs or schoolwork or whatever, but occasionally I heard rumors about other girls or listened to their fantasies about boys their age. One night I even found out that my sister had begun taking the pill. I’m pretty sure she was still a virgin, but probably looking to change that. Shortly after school was out for the summer, she began seeing Phil Henderson, a real dork that I couldn’t stand. He had nothing that she normally looked for in guys; he wasn’t an athlete, he wasn’t particularly good looking and he had a sour disposition. My parents didn’t say much about him, but I’m pretty sure they disliked him as well, which probably made my sister want to continue seeing him. Phil had a summer job at the mall, so he didn’t get off work until nine o’clock, and came straight to our house every night. Since my parents wouldn’t allow Trish to see guys in her room, that meant they took over the couch. I didn’t have a TV in my room, so that meant I usually didn’t get to watch anything on TV, which chapped my ass, I can tell you. The exception was if the Rangers game was on; in that case, I stayed and watched the game. The Rangers games were non-negotiable. Otherwise, I left them alone to cuddle and baby talk with each other. Whenever I went into the kitchen to get a drink or something, I met the icy glare of my sister, silently questioning how I could violate her majesty’s privacy. Sometimes they didn’t notice me and I saw them making out, Phil struggling to sneak his hand under her top while she tried to keep him out. They were both flushed with desire by the time he left. He couldn’t stay late, since Trish had to be up early for Speed Camp. Since he didn’t attend Speed Camp, he usually slept in until time to go to work, so they couldn’t see each other before he went to work. That made their night time visits more urgent. One night after he left and Trish had gone to bed, I put the glass against her wall and held my ear against it to see if she was talking to one of her friends on the phone. I didn’t hear her talking, but I could make out an unfamiliar sound coming from her room. It sounded like a humming noise of some sort. Curious, I continued to listen. Soon, I heard Trish begin to pant lightly, then she obviously attempted to stifle moaning noises. I knew immediately what that sound was, as I made those noises myself constantly. I was amazed; who knew that girls did that too? It’s not that I consciously believed that only guys masturbated, and girls didn’t. It’s just that I had never thought about it. I had never considered the possibility that girls jerked themselves off. How in the hell could they do it; they didn’t have a dick. They didn’t ejaculate. Or did they? What is it that would cause them to cum? Now my interest was up. As I continued to listen, I could no longer hear anything as her breathing returned to normal. My dick was rock hard as I pictured my sister lying naked in her bed recovering from an intense orgasm. I instantly turned off my light and got in bed, slipping off my underwear. I grabbed one of my socks off the floor next to my bed, and readied it. As I lay there, gently caressing my balls and my hard dick, I pictured my sister, lying in her bed with her hand in her crotch, her little titties exposed. I had seen her in bathing suits and bras enough in my life that I could imagine how they looked, though I had never seen them bare. My balls began to tingle and my body and mind were filled bayan escort with pleasurable waves of endorphins as my cock started pumping sperm into my sock. It was all I could do to keep quiet as the waves of pleasure rocked my world. As coherent thought returned, I vowed to learn more about the internal workings of females. How did those fascinating creatures pleasure themselves, and more importantly, how could I learn to pleasure them, and perhaps most importantly, how could I convince them to allow me to pleasure them? The next day, after Speed Camp, my sister dropped me off at home and sped off with three of her girlfriends. Alone in the house, I went into her bedroom to see what I could find. Her room was strictly off limits, punishable by death and enforced not just by her, but also by my parents. Partially to keep her off their case, they had made it very clear years ago that I was to respect her privacy. I had to be very careful not to disturb anything in her room, and to leave it exactly as I found it; as a total pig sty. My parents wouldn’t step foot in her room. If it was ever to be cleaned, my sister would have to do so, and she didn’t ever get the inclination to do so. There were clothes thrown on the floor, bed and across the back of the chair at her desk. Empty to-go cups with lids and straws were on her nightstand. Her trash can overflowed onto the floor with food wrappers, school papers and other debris. If she could ever tell that I had been in her room and disturbed her stuff, it would only be because she intentionally set a trap for me, putting something just so to see if it had been disturbed. I picked up a pair of the cotton panties that she wore under her gym shorts at Speed Camp and sniffed the crotch. Musky. It smelled not unlike the sweat of my own crotch after a hard workout, but a little stronger. I carefully put the panties down where they had been, and picked up one of her bras. Not the sports bra that she worked out in, but one of her padded bras. The tag said 34B. I put it back in place. My dick was hard from fondling her underwear, and from the excitement of sneaking through her room. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but it was still exciting to be snooping around. I pulled back the covers of her messy bed. Nothing in there. I looked around under her pillows, which were strewn across the bed and on the floor. Nothing. Getting down on my hands and knees, I looked under the bed. There was a duffel bag, sandals, a broken pair of sunglasses and a bunch of lacrosse equipment. I looked through the duffel bag. Seeing nothing of interest, I put it back in place. Just then I noticed that there were two things plugged into the outlet between her bed and nightstand. Other than the lamp, what was plugged in there? Curious, I followed the extra AC cord. Hidden behind her nightstand, with a stuffed toy animal covering it was the old Oster brand massager that my mom had owned for years. Normally this massager was stored in the hallway linen closet, along with the heating pad, ice bag, enema bag, and other seldom if ever used health care items. I had seen my mom use this old fashioned massager once or twice before, when my dad had back spasms around his neck. It consisted of a large, white base that you held in your hand with a short metal stub coming out of it that held various attachments. There was a switch on top. I clicked it on and it began vibrating. I moved the switch one more position and it began vibrating harder, and the humming was more pronounced. The humming noise it made was exactly what I had heard the night before. I’m sure this is what my sister had been using. But why? Given the moaning noises I heard her make, I’m pretty sure I knew the answer to that. But more importantly, how? How did girls masturbate? My research into the female anatomy had included porn magazines escort bayan that my cousin had shown me. While those magazines were graphic, I still had no clue how this vibrator combined with those body parts to generate the pleasure I got when I sprayed my load. I went to the linen closet and looked at the box that the massager was stored in. The illustrations on the box looked like something from the 1960s. No telling how long my mom had owned it. Was it possible that she used it for such a purpose as my sis did? No way, that was totally inconceivable. I was totally unable to picture my mom, lying in bed and doing to herself what I did to myself almost every night. According to the box, there were three attachments included. The first was a flat, round attachment with raised rubber nubs. That was called a scalp attachment. The second looked like a suction cup, and was a facial attachment. The third attachment, the one that was missing from the box because it was attached to the massager was for general or spot usage. It looked like a rubber knob. It was long and rounded on the end. Hearing a car outside, I quickly went to the entryway and looked out the window, my heart beating frantically. It wasn’t my sister’s car, so I reentered her room, my heart still beating quickly. I felt the rubber attachment, then held it to my nose. It smelled the same as the crotch on her panties, though more faint. Now there was absolutely no question as to what she was doing with the massager. My dick was hard as I thought about her, lying in her bed with the massager buried in her crotch. It strained against the waistband of my shorts, demanding attention as it so often did. The excitement of the last thirty minutes was too much. I picked up my sister’s soiled panties and laid back on her bed, lowering my shorts and underwear. My hard, stiff dick stood at a 45 degree angle from my body as I lay back. I’ve never been so easily excited, nor so hard as I was as a teenager. I fondled my balls as I held the panties to my nose, breathing in the unfamiliar aroma of my sister’s pussy. It smelled slightly like pencil shavings, though stronger. My mind filled with the fantasy of my sister’s naked body writhing in ecstasy with the massager pressed against her pussy and the pungent aroma of her panties. I flipped on the massager and held it against my hard dick. I positioned it directly on the vein that ran along the underside of my dick, the one that delivered my semen, the one that caused so much pleasure when rubbed. Even at the lowest setting, the vibrations from the massager were so intense they were almost painful against my throbbing dick. It was barely making contact with my skin, yet I was able to last no more than seconds before my cum began spewing out of my dick onto my belly. I grunted and trembled as the overpowering orgasm shook me. As the sensations began to recede, I started to come back to the present. I quickly pulled up my shorts and underwear together, and taking care to replace everything I disturbed, I left the room and closed the door. Going into the bathroom, I wiped myself up with toilet tissue and flushed it down the toilet. Over the next few days I constantly fantasized about my sister’s body. I had seen her in all sorts of outfits over the years and rarely given it much thought, but now I could think of little else. She had always been a grumpy co-inhabitant of our house that I had to put up with when I was unable to avoid. But now she became a fascinating creature of interest. Every night Trish spent an hour or more necking with Phil on our couch, wrestling with him to keep his hands out of her top, then spent another ten or fifteen minutes outside by his car, saying good night, and kissing even more passionately without the fear of our parents walking in. By the time she got back inside she was so horny her skin was flushed, and it was all she could do to keep from immediately taking care of her needy pussy. She would go into the bathroom and see to her nightly routine first, washing her face and brushing her teeth. But within moments of entering her bedroom…
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