I looked up to see Russell and all the other kids running out of the classroom, leaving me alone with Tabatha in the Art room.
“Yeah, stop it, Russell!” Tabatha called after him. “Let Andy have a go.” And she looked back at me with that strange gaze I’d never seen before.
I looked down at my hand and it disappeared under the silky hem of her red dress. I felt her pubic hair tickling the tips of my fingers and it occurred to me that it felt just like mine. She parted her thighs slightly.
My heart was racing and I could hear Tabatha’s voice, although I was staring at the hand sliding between her thighs.
“You haven’t done this before, have you?” It was the taunting voice of an older sister talking to her inexperienced little brother. Tabatha was two years older than me. But there was something else in her voice. The teasing that becomes a dare. “You’ve never fingered a girl’s pussy before, have you?”
I was shaking my head and thinking, “What will it feel like?”
“You want to know what it feels like?” she taunted.
A warm wetness crept along my finger. I started moving my finger in and out of her warm wet pussy. I was finger fucking my sister’s pussy! Even in the dream I couldn’t believe I was doing it and I couldn’t believe she was letting me do it. Tabatha had her legs spread and she was raised up on her elbows to watch what I was doing, but she threw her head back and writhed with pleasure and I could feel her getting wetter as I fingered her.
So that’s what it feels like, I thought. It felt so good and my cock strained against something. I wanted to keep fingering her and to do it faster and faster. But then I felt a rush of pleasure I had never felt before.
I woke up.
It was a warm summer’s night and I was sleeping only with a sheet over me. I was lying on my back and I could feel my cock twitching. I could hear it too. There was a faint slapping sound like a dying fish in shallow water. There was a big puddle on my flat stomach and my cock was straining out of it and flopping back into it as blood seemed to pulse alternately between my cock and my pounding heart.
I was sleepy and confused and it was dark. I lay there wondering what the hell had just happened. I lifted the sheet and put my hand down to feel what was on my stomach. It was a big pool of cum, of course. I thought I knew what cum was and this felt different and there was more of it. The effort of reaching down crunched my stomach muscles and semen started running off my stomach onto the mattress. It tickled. My cock started to lose its straining hardness and it dropped back into the puddle, dropping the sheet into it at the same time. My mum was going to kill me.
Even when I guessed that I had just had my first proper wet dream, I still lay there, not knowing what to do. I lay there waiting for my heart to calm down.
Then I fell asleep again.
In the morning the sheet was stuck to me like glue. There was a crispy disc of dried cum on the sheet and a matted mess in my pubic hair. And, of course, I awoke with another raging erection.
Then I remembered the dream.
“Eww! Tabatha?” The idea of my sister as a sex fantasy was repulsive to me then – at least, to my waking self. My friends at school talked about models and celebrities and there were plenty of girls to fantasise about, day and night. But Tabatha?
The second thing that disturbed me was that I dreamt of fingering her. This struck me as a slightly disgusting act and I was a bit embarrassed that I should dream about it. Most sex acts are initially distasteful, at least to boys that age, or at least to me, but this one seemed particularly unsavoury.
But the thing that struck me most, was how good her vagina felt in the dream. I had never touched a vagina, let alone a sexually aroused one. How did I know how to imagine what one felt like in a dream? And how did I imagine one that felt so good?
I did my best to clean up the mess and had a shower. When I went down to breakfast, my mum and my sister were already there.
“Here’s my baby!” gushed Mum in her usual way. She fussed over me in a way that I used to enjoy, but now it was just embarrassing. She came up to me and kissed me and asked me what I wanted for breakfast.
Tabatha and I rarely said much to each other in the mornings, and I was embarrassed to even look at her today. She was in her blue and white check school dress and as she sat on the stool at the breakfast bar beside me I could see it was riding quite high on her creamy white thighs. I’d never paid attention to these details before, but my cock twitched in my grey school shorts and I was reminded of my dream again and I blushed.
After Tabatha finished her toast, she hopped down and grabbed her school bag.
“Gotta go, Mum. We’ve got assembly this morning.”
“Bye, love. I’ll pick you up at the usual time.”
Mum followed Tabatha to the hall door and I watched them both. From behind, they were almost identical. Tabatha was the same height as Mum, 5’4”. Each had long, straight, dark brown hair that came half way down her narrow back. Tabatha’s figure was hidden in the conservative cut of her Catholic school girl’s uniform. Only the high hemline, which Mum had helped her sew, gave anything away – showing off Tabatha’s shapely legs. They were too white for my liking. Lily white. I preferred tanned legs. Tabatha didn’t tan. She had her Polish father’s complexion.
Oh yeah. I forgot to mention. Tabatha’s technically my half-sister. We have the same Mum, but her father ran off when Tabatha was still a baby. My Mum didn’t have much luck with men when she was young and after my Dad died she gave up on men and raised us on her own. She had boyfriends from time to time, but never anything too serious.
Mum kept in shape by running. She was in her shorts and running singlet now and I noticed for the first time that morning that her figure was as slim and curvy as Tabatha’s. The same narrow waist. The same creamy . . .
“Don’t go there! Don’t go there!” a voice said in my head. It was bad enough having sexual dreams about my sister. I slipped off the stool without finishing my breakfast and grabbed my school bag too.
“Hey!” said Tabatha as I pushed past her in the hallway.
“Where’s my good-bye kiss, Baby?” called Mum, sounding hurt as I rushed out the front door.
“I’m late, Mum. Bye.” I didn’t think it was a good idea to kiss my Mum with an erection. Or to walk behind my sister on the way to school. Not today. Not with my new appreciation of creamy thighs, or that dream of what was between them.
All through that day, I remembered how good it felt to slip my finger into that warm wet place.
I told Russell that I had a dream that he fingered Ms Christie.
“Eww, that’s so gross!” I was surprised that he seemed genuinely disgusted and so I didn’t share any of the other details.
It was a shame I couldn’t talk about it with anyone. I wanted desperately to know if any of my friends had touched a vagina. If they knew what one felt like. If it really felt like the one I had dreamt about. I’d never felt a vagina. How did my brain imagine something I had never felt? It felt so real and so good. It felt so good it made me come in my sleep. Why would I have an orgasm at that feeling if it wasn’t real?
And my Mum’s words were still bouncing around in my head. Touching myself was sinful. But wet dreams were part of God’s plan. Did God want me to finger my sister?
It was very confusing.
One thing was true. The relief provided by the wet dream made it easier to resist the temptation to masturbate. At least for a day or two. Then I went through this tortuous period of going to sleep wishing for a wet dream and waking up with a very frustrating erection when I didn’t have one.
Over the next couple of months, I had more wet dreams. I didn’t remember them in the morning. I just woke up with a crusty mess in my shorts. Peeing through the eye of a penis glued shut by semen is very painful. I came to learn that God’s plan is messy and painful.
My memory of my sister’s wet pussy might have faded, were it not for a second, very memorable dream not long after the first one.
My bedroom window looked out on the back garden. We had a pool at the bottom of the garden. My Mum and Tabatha didn’t like to swim much. They didn’t want to get their hair wet. But Tabatha used to sunbake on the deck around the pool. I never thought anything of it before. But now I found the sight of my sister in her bathers endlessly fascinating. My Mum told her off for buying bikinis that were too skimpy.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Tabatha, put some clothes on!” she was always saying. Not just about the bathers, but about the short shorts, the mini skirts, the spaghetti straps, the crop tops and the tank tops.
In the second dream, I was sitting on my bed, looking out the window at Tabatha lying on a sunlounge. She was wearing a white bikini. She was lying on her stomach and she had untied the bra straps to avoid tan lines. She had bunched up the small white triangle of fabric on her bum so that most of it was gathered between her legs and in her crack and her plump butt cheeks were bared to the sun. It occurred to me for the first time that Tabatha had a really cute arse. I’d never really paid much attention to it before.
I was in my bathers and I wanted to go down for a swim, but I had an erection that was very obvious and, in my dream, I was embarrassed about Tabatha seeing the bulge in my pants. As I spied on Tabatha through the net curtains, the bulge was getting bigger, not smaller.
Suddenly she moved, tying her bikini top back on and pulling the bottoms out of her crack. I watched her walk up the garden into the house. Tabatha looked up at my window. She shouldn’t be able to see me behind the curtains, but there was something about the way she looked away abruptly and started swinging her hips that made me wonder.
“Good,” I thought. “Now I can go for a swim.”
But then my bedroom door opened and Tabatha walked in. I was startled and my heart jumped. Tabatha had that blazing look in her eyes. The look she had in the Art room in my previous dream.
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