Treasure Hunt, Part 5

by LezLuv

SO FAR: Two sisters, 11 and 13, find, with their mother's help, that they love each other. The world of sex is also discovered. Adventures and awakenings follow. The eldest proves to be a star athlete.

The next day was much warmer, and all the competitors from Angela's school were at the grounds by 9.30. The semifinal of the netball was scheduled for 10.15, and when they saw their competition, their hearts sank. The school they were from had a reputation for tough, no-holds-barred competition, and some of the girls looked a lot older than 14. But there was no escaping it, they had to play, as nothing is ever hopeless. So the principal said, but he wasn't facing up to these kids. Valiant effort or not, they went down fighting, at the end literally. Angela's team's defender was a truly big, strong girl just on the age limit, so when she was bumped so hard by the opposition that she landed out of court she simply stood up and socked the culprit in the jaw. That was the end of the game, as a melee broke out and coaches, umpires and parents raced onto the court to separate them and protect their offspring. Ange was unscathed, having walked calmly to the gate and got out as the scrum formed. "No way am I going to behave like a boy," she told her father with a superior voice. He burst out laughing, deflected a hurled shoe, and followed her.

Both teams had to forfeit, to the great disappointment of some - but Angela had lost interest in netball. She could not get out of her mind the 'fastest time in history' that she had been conned with the previous night. Running it was, running it would be. She was not bad academically, but without a focus. Now she had it. The determined look on her young face said it all.

And so it proved. The final of the relay arrived, the coach took them aside and said, "OK girls, a little change from yesterday. Debbie, you lead off. You're up against good but beatable competition, and I believe you'll give the rest the advantage they need. Marylou, second, and Anne third. Angela, I want you last. If there is any ground to make up, you can do that. I know. Listen, girls, you have a real star in the making here. Be proud of being in the same team. Now, let's get set. Remember the drills. And best of luck."

Well, luck plays very little part in athletics – but some. They'd led all the way up to the third leg, but poor Anne slipped and fell as she gathered speed from the baton change. She was up and running valiantly, but they could all she she was panicky, and felt their hearts sink. Still, she recovered to be third at the final change, and Angela calculated she was about four seconds out, and would need a miracle. Miracles are in short supply also, but one sometimes pops up. Totally focused, nothing but speed- race-win, her mind and legs combined to produce such a burst of speed that at the finish line she was three yards clear and gaining.

The crowd erupted. They could not believe it. The other runners mobbed her, the coach was in tears, she felt herself lifted high and carried round the track, cameras popping, banners waving, waves of noise like a jet engine.

The high, the exhilaration, the sheer joy of it all was all she could feel. It was still there when she was finally lowered to the ground at the starting line, girls hugging her, kissing her, wanting their photo taken with her, and the whirl was unstoppable. Until – "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. I have just been handed a sheet of paper from the Athletics committee. Where's Angela? Angela?" The booming voice was coming from the loudspeakers dotting the ground.

"Here, she's here," came a chorus of shrieks.

"OK. Angela, would you come up here, please? Someone clear a path for her."

Her team mates formed a wedge around her and headed for the grandstand, the crowd parting as they came, but slapping her on the back, whistling and shouting. Finally she was standing next to a tall, fuzzy haired man in suit and tie, smiling broadly, microphone in hand.

"Hi, Angela," he said to her but into the mic, "My name is Tim, and I'm the president of the inter-school sports council. It is my very great pleasure to congratulate you on a truly remarkable performance, and to tell you that your winning margin was three yards, ten inches, and that in achieving that you have set a new state record for any leg of a 400 yard relay. In fact, your time is identical to the record for the 100 yard sprint set three years ago." There was another eruption from all over. The sound was deafening, but Tim said, "Wait! There's more! Shush, everyone, listen to this." The noise faded slowly until he said slowly, pausing and emphasizing each word, "Your time... is just three point two seconds... outside... the... Olympic... record. You are a champion!" He bellowed the last into the mic, picked up her hand and held it aloft. She jumped up onto the awards table and waved at the crowd, smiling and laughing at this dream, this fairy story, this adulation. The excitement was so great, her grin so wide, her euphoria so much she would not have noticed if the stand had collapsed around her.

Things went on at such a pace after that that she lost all track of time, place or space. But, finally, totally dazed, head whirling, her parents were there, Jas was there, and she was allowed to sit, have a glass of orange juice, and collapse.

What was said she could never remember. What they did was unknown. She knew she'd signed autographs, spoken to so many clamoring people, posed for photos, kissed and been kissed by all and sundry, worn a sash someone had draped over her, and at some time, somehow, had had a shower and got changed, eaten, spoken into microphones, been hugged until breathes by her many, but it was not until she was in the car on her way home that she became really aware of where she was. Jas was asleep next to her, Mum asleep in the front, Dad driving steadily through the night. She leant forward to look at the dashboard clock. An unbelievable 1.34 am. Her father sensed the movement and glanced into the rear vision mirror.

"Hello," he said softly, "Welcome back. Bit of a day, eh?"

She gave him a wan smile and nodded, reached forward and rubbed his shoulder. "Thanks," she whispered ,"love you," and settled back in her seat, closing her eyes, drifting off to sleep. The movement must has disturbed her companion, for she heard the click of a seatbelt being undone, then felt her sister's face next to hers, her arm go around her shoulders, and a kiss on the cheek. "Love you" was whispered, the arm withdrawn and the body nestled into the waiting comfort of her sister's lap. They were both sound asleep when they arrived home, and had to be woken with much grumbling and irritability.

 

Kicking off their shoes, pullovers and jeans thrown any where, they tumbled into Angela's double bed. They mumbled something to each other, and were back asleep in an instant. Sometime later Angela began to dream. Her first ever red hot passion dream in which she was being sucked off by Anne, the girl who had fallen in the race, while Marylou was slurping on her breasts and Debbie was kissing her all over. It was totally lewd, uninhibited and so, so stimulating.

'Ohhh.... yes, yes, do it, make me come.' She screamed in her nighttime visitation. 'Uh, uh ,uh...' and the orgasmic thrill was too much for her brain, as she awoke to find Jas ferociously doing the things she'd been dreaming.

"Oh, Jas..." She gasped. Her heart was going wild, her brain catherine-wheeling. She got a quick grin before the ministrations resumed. "I was dreaming I was being sucked and.... But... it was you. Real. Ah! Oh... I'm going to come... right now. Oh... oh oh..." She felt her vagina contract, her juices spurt, and her brain pound out the ecstasy as her whimper went on and on, as her body spasmed and began to shake.

Finally, she sighed, a long deep sigh of total satisfaction. "Jas," she said softly, "that was so wonderful. Sooo... wonderful... I might have run the best race ever, but nothing can come close to the thrill you give me. Nothing in this world can come close. Come here, my darling, loving sister," and she held out her arms.

They hugged and kissed, cuddled and smooched. "I couldn't wait," whispered Jas. "You were so surrounded by people, so... engulfed... yeah, that's the word... but so wonderful – smiling, hugging, saying all the right things, and looking just so beautiful, except when you ignored me, and the other team girls getting attention, and... I got jealous, and we went to our room, and I cried... and Mum was so kind... I could feel her love wipe away my tears... and when I looked at you in the car my heart just melted ... just being near you is so wonderful... then... and later, when I woke up, you looked so appealing... no, more than that... awesome... lying there that I just had to lick your breasts, pull down your knickers and play with you. Then... oh boy.. the smell... your smell... you were so sweaty and sexy that I had to taste. Then you started to moan and talk in your sleep, so I just went on till you woke. And you know," she went on dreamily, "your juices were like honey? Like nectar. Like the manna in the bible. And Ange? There was so much some spilt on the sheets. Aren't we lucky?"

This seemed to her like such a long, drawn out ramble, but it was really a thanksgiving for life and love, bonding and friendship. Then, arms around each other, they drifted back to sleep, smiles of content on their faces.

*

"It's ten o'clock, wakey wakey. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and your breakfast is ready. And you are the two most beautiful girls in the whole wide world." Their mother was bending over them, ruffling their hair, stroking their cheeks, bending down to kiss them. They opened their eyes, yawned, smiled at her, stretched in unison, and slowly got out of bed.

"Yowie....!" Angela's cry of amazement came as she walked into the kitchen. On the wall opposite the door, where there'd been a museum of modern art print, was an enormous color picture of her as she finished the race. Glossy, tacked to the wall, it must have been three feet high. In mid stride, she had her hands in the air, head thrown back, a sweat streaked face and a blaze of triumph in her eyes.

Jas crowded in to look. "Oh! Isn't that just the best picture?", she squealed.

Angela was still gawping, and as she turned toward her mother she shouted, "Oh, my God!" On the opposite wall, where once had hung an award winning photo of race riots that her dad had taken years before was another of her, this one of her fairly dancing on the awards table during the announcement of her winning time. This one was even bigger, her face caught in total excitement, left leg high in the air, hands over head, mouth open, shouting. Blurred figures were in the background, but the color – the color was straight out of the movies. Vibrating. Hitting you in the eye. She could not speak, and her mouth remained open in astonishment.

Muriel just stood watching, unable to hide her grin, so proud, so thrilled, so amazed that this person, this daughter of hers, was full of success and happiness.

"Where... When did..." Angela could not find the words.

"Your father went straight to the office and did these, brought them back an hour ago, and has gone back again. He was so excited her couldn't sleep. Aren't they something?"

Ange fell into a chair, mouth still open, still unable to find words. Finally: "They're awesome. They're..." she sipped her orange juice, "...unbelievable..."

But as she was still shaking her head at the wonder of it all, the back door opened and her father walked in, arms loaded with newspapers, the telephone rang and the chimes in the hall announced someone at the front door. The girls looked at each other in horror, then as one dashed for the shower, clean clothes, hair brushing and girlhood purity. Afterwards, it reminded them of the day before with its incessant movement, non-stop talk, photos, autographs, but this time it included flowers, hand delivered invitations, cakes, who knew what – with everyone's mobile phone ringing, text messages pouring in from the girls at school, police trying to keep some semblance of order in the street – while the house filled with friends, neighbours and relatives.

As they took refuge in their bathroom, "This is fame?" asked Jas, with doubt in her voice.

"Guess it must be. Don't think I could stand this every day. Geez...."

The local papers had banner headlines, her dad's city paper had the story and photos on page three, and one of the major national papers had it as their lead story on the sports page. Thrilling as it all was, there was really only one important visitor, late in the day.

Thirty something, wide smile, bush of blond hair, weather tanned face, he introduced himself as Jake Viss, senior athletics coach at State University. "Saw the papers this morning, saw the name Arbutt, rang your dad," he told them in a surprisingly pleasant bass. "He helped me get through some tough times in the sporting field, helped put our aths program before the right people, so I thought I may be able to repay some of the debt I owe him."

"You," replied their father, "are the best coach in the state. Nothing I did altered that. But I do appreciate your call this afternoon, so," turning to his family, "I suggested Jake call here about now. He's got a proposal." He smiled and nodded at the coach. "Go on, tell 'em"

He grinned. Engaging, handsome, they already trusted him. "Well, in my capacity as head of athletics, we award a number of scholarships each year to promising young potential stars." Turning to Angela, he went on, "simply put, we'd like to offer you one when you're old enough to enter the university. Which, in the case of athletics, is from 16 up."

She was speechless. Going to university was something she'd never ever really given any thought to, though the idea had crossed her mind once or twice.

Her sister was not so reticent. "Oh, like wow! Ange, you are so great. You are such a champ!"

Angela looked up, serious, understanding that this decision would be life changing. Her gaze went to her father first, also looking very thoughtful, giving her the smallest of nods, encouraging her to think, make a decision that could be altered if necessary. Then to her mother, smiling, sad eyes, already knowing.

"D'you want time to consider this?" She asked.

Her daughter, apple of the eye, all she could have dreamt of, grinned, said with a snort and shake of the head, "Nup. Thanks."

"Mr. Viss, thank you. I accept, on the condition that I can withdraw if things change, or something else happens."

He nodded his head, began "There's something...'

But Angela had stood up, put her hand's above her head, whirled round and round knocking a glass off the side table, and shouting, "Yay, yay, I'm doing athletics. I'm going to run, run, run. Oh, gee, this is so unbelievable.... Oh, my..." Her father had his never absent camera out and was taking more shots. Finally, she sat down again, breathless and flushed.

"But..." Jake held up a hand, and the sudden stillness in Ange was startling.

"Oh." She was the picture of disappointment.

But he was smiling, a broad grin, half amused by this teenager whom he really didn't understand at all.

"That's not all. As the knife salesmen say, 'there's more.' Shall I tell you?"

A gleam of hope had crept into her eyes. She nodded her head, not daring to speak.

"I also run a coaching clinic outside of my university role. Your mum and dad say it's alright to ask you this, which is... if you can make it to the city on Saturday afternoons, I will begin showing the ropes of running as a career. You have immense natural ability, Angela, but that is not going to be enough to let you achieve what I believe are your dreams. Top level athletics is a tough, relentless game, and you will need to know how to handle all that. So – would you like to join my coaching clinic?"

Again, she was speechless. Would she? Of course she would, but... "Is that OK, Dad? Mum? I mean..." turning to Jake she said in a quite timid little voice, "I'd have to pay for this, wouldn't I?"

He began to laugh. "No way. Understand this, Angela, every coach dreams of finding a potential champion someday. It's the greatest honor – and boost - a coach can have. And you are just such a dream. I believe you do have the potential to become one of the world's great runners. So, to answer your question, no, there will be no charge. But..." he held up a forefinger, denying further sad looks, "Your dad is going to be taking pictures most days. Can you put up with that?"

Well, that was that. There was rejoicing all round, plans, details, and Saturdays put aside from then on.

"Well at least this is not a con." Ange was reflecting later on the insult at the dinner. "This is the real thing. Oh, Dad, thank you. Thank you for everything. You're the best dad in the whole world." And she went and hugged him, kissed his cheek, leant against him. The shining eyes, the vibrancy of her whole being was a true joy for all to see.

"Well," Ben said after a while, "that's all very good, but I'm afraid it's not going to start just yet, my love. Not, at least, till we're back from Europe. So start making plans for three weeks time."

*

 

Beth drove them all to the airport. Fortunately she had something called a 'people mover', almost a small bus that held all seven of them with room to spare. The talk was, naturally, mostly about Angela, her leap to fame, her future – but Venice and its film festival also got a bit of air time.

Both girls were pretty wistful about their parents going away, the first time ever they'd both been away for more than a few hours, but there was also a sense of excitement, novelty, and expectation. Ben was the one most upset, being torn between leaving them in the hands of his sister-in-law, whom he didn't really like, and the thrill of being paid to enjoy himself. But tears of farewell came and went, as did the plane, the car, and its passengers from the airport.

Neither girl knew their cousins well; they had met them a few times, but mutual disinterest was the norm. Terry, named after his grandfather, was a tubby eleven, who spent nearly the whole trip with his head buried in a game boy. Allan, his brother, had just turned nine. A likable tow headed skinny boy with a quick if nervous grin, he was interested in planes, soccer and drawing, and they learnt all about these, his friends and his school. The girls exchanged grimaces once or twice, but, as their mother would have said, 'well, family is family.'

The living arrangements had been organized – to some extent. When the boys saw the room they were to spend the next two weeks in, they immediately began to quarrel, not just because one was to sleep on a camp bed, but because they had little in common. The girls, however, had no complaints about having to sleep together in Angela's double bed. Well, not are first.

The first shock came as they were eating pizza for tea. "Listen, my dears, I have to go out for a while. I'm really sorry, but I've got to prepare an order for first thing tomorrow morning, and the delivery is due in half an hour." Beth ran a florist shop just out of the city, now on her own, and apparently on erratic hours.

Terry began whining, Allan burst into tears. "Hey, you guys, it's OK, There's two of the best babysitters in the world right here. You won't mind, will you, girls? Only for a couple of hours." Turning to her sons she added, "and after your showers I'll see you into bed, which has to be about now anyway, school tomorrow, big day today." She ruffled their hair, put her arms around them.

Angela smiled and told them not to worry, it'd be a breeze. Jas said nothing, unable to smile at them, already resenting the intrusion. Why couldn't it have been a couple of girls, she thought. Or a couple of babies, she'd have liked to look after them.

But the boys were tractable enough to go to bed with little grumbling, a glass of warm cocoa for supper – it had turned rather chilly – a wave and smile from Allan, a mouth open stare from Terry, and off they went. Beth grabbed her keys, said, "see you soon," and was gone.

Jas looked at the kitchen clock. 8.45 pm. Too early to go to bed. Watch tele? Get things ready for school tomorrow? She turned her head and caught Ange looking at her with a repressed smile, speculation in her eyes. "Hey... you want to go to... bed?" She was licking her lips and raising her eyebrows in as lewd a way as she knew how.

Jas smiled a conspiratorial smile. Then she grinned. "Yeah..." she said slowly, "but... it's nice and warm in here, and this chair is so comfortable, so... why not...?"

"If the boys come in?"

"Nah. They're exhausted. But maybe close the door?"

That was done, then Ange bent over and kissed her sister, put her arms around her and drew her to her feet. Their mouths opened, the pressure of lips built, hands began exploring, and soft cries and moans seeped out. "Oh, God, I love this, "she moaned, sliding her hands up her sister's top and massaging her developing mounds.

Jas put her face next to Angela's, closed her eyes and savored the sensuality. After a moment she said softly, "Oh... that's nice. Ooo... do that again, Ange, I like that." Ange's hand went to her other breast. "No, not that... you know, what you did before, when I had my face next to yours. Your breath... you blew into my ear, I think."

"I did? Don't remember. You mean like this?" She blew gently into the proffered ear.

"Um... yes, like that. Closer I think you were." Closer it was. After a murmur of pleasure Ange did something that had no reason, just the proximity of an odd but visible part of her sister's anatomy. She gently licked. At once there was an indrawn breath, 'Oh, God that's beautiful. Oh, Angela, it's delicious." More licking, all around, in and out. "Here, Let me do it to you."

The swap was made. "Oh... that's wonderful. Yes, yes. Oh... I'm getting hot, Jas, ooo... I want you. I need you. Oh... Jas... fuck me. Quick. Quick." She tore her jeans and panties down, ripped off her top, dropped to the floor, opened her legs and raised her knees, lay there with small moaning sounds showing the urgency of her desire.

Jas had stripped in one quick movement, knelt beside her sister before pivoting on one knee and straddling her, lowered her pubes toward the waiting mouth, parted the waiting labia and gently running her finger up into the treasure house, out, and up to the seat of pleasure. She could feel her own cunt being fingered, licked and sucked, and the combination was so sensuous that the beginnings of that wonderful gift, that miraculous sensation of tingling, pulsing, thrumming, that surge of pure emotion grew in her mind and body like an express train.

She put her fingers in her sister, rotating them around, pistoning them in and out, put her tongue out and licked her fingers as they came out, then flicking the organ of joy before pursing her lips and sucking and pulling on it as hard as she could. Then her sister began to do the same to her. Fingers in... out... in... the first time she'd been finger-fucked so deeply and hard. Then her clit was being forced by a beautiful vacuum pump into making a crescendo so intense that she screamed, screamed and screamed again as softly as she could. They were not alone.

Her body, rigid and pulsing, her mind oblivious to all else, the orgasm seemed to go on and on, fade then rebuild as her sister's cunt produced a surge of nectar that she slurped up greedily as her fingers continued their wild dance. Finally, as she took a deep, deep breath, she heard Angela moaning so loudly that it was like a banshee, a hurricane escaping from within before it to gradually diminished to a gentle pianissimo. Somehow she managed to swing herself around while lying on top, put her lips to her beloveds, long and tenderly, before backing off enough to lick her breasts, nipples, stomach, neck, in an increasingly crazy dance of adoration.

They did not have to speak, not really, their eyes, their faces, their postures said it all, but the unison "I love you," soft and gentle, was overwhelming in its need to be spoken.

They lay on the floor, arms cradling bodies, almost dozing off, until increasing chill and a bladder or two asserting its need of being emptied forced them up. Then tender smiles, and into a cold, cold bed to cuddle and remember the time they had just spent in heaven. "You've got juice too. So beautiful. Like you, I do," whispered Ange as she felt herself drifting off to sleep.

"Hmm... I'm glad... I want to please you every way," her sister replied drowsily before sleep claimed her.

*

"I'm frightened." The voice was small and tremulous. Angela felt the bedclothes being tugged. "Can I sleep with you, please? I'm frightened." Sobbing began, sniffling with it, and she opened her eyes. In the dim light through the doorway she could see the silhouette of Sandy standing in pajamas next to the bed. It seemed like only minutes since she had closed her eyes.

"Allan?" she whispered, "what's wrong?" She may not know about boys, but she knew about fright, she knew about holding her sister close to ward off the boogiemen, she knew her responsibility as the eldest, and as a woman. She found his hand and whispered, "what's happened, Allan? Tell me."

Through the sobbing she heard, "Mum's not home. I couldn't find the toilet, so I went to ask her, and she's not in her room. So I came to ask you."

"It's right opposite, the door with a flower picture on it. The light switch is just inside," she said softly. But he didn't move, just tugged again at the bedclothes.

"I don't want to go now. I'm scared. Please, Angela, can I sleep with you? Mummy lets me sleep with her when I'm scared."

This was something she'd never imagined. She could not think of what to say, but the sobbing started up again, and when the quavery voice said, "and I'm cold," she shifted over toward the centre of the bed till she was back to back with Jas, pulled the bedclothes back and whispered, "OK, then. For a little while. Hop in here."

The nine-year-old body was in in a flash, back turned to her, head put on pillow, and a tiny 'thank you,' was heard. Within a minute the regular breathing of sleep was there, and Angela wondered what other surprises were in store. This beat all, so far. Oh, well. At least he hadn't noticed she had no clothes on.

But she also fell asleep in short order, unaware that her arm had moved around the boy's waist and tightened in comfort and protection.

He'd vanished when she awoke at six, Jas more or less having taken his place; at least she had her arm protectively around her older sister and was cuddling. Maybe growing up wasn't as bad as they'd been led to believe. She smiled to herself as she eased out of bed and donned her dressing gown and slippers. Heading for the bathroom she noticed that a headache was developing. A heaviness, almost a sourness. The novelty of her periods had worn off the very first time. 'Oh, shit, here we go again' she thought as she made the necessary preparations. Down to the kitchen, kettle on, toast in toaster, back to see all was well with the guests and sibling; boys well asleep, Jas in the toilet, front bedroom door closed; open it quietly, peer in. Funny, bed not disturbed. No one there. Go to front door, open it and peer out. Rain. A few cars. Oh God. Where was Beth? What was she going to do now? Accident? A small sense of panic crept forth. Oh, Jesus. Who did she ring? She let out a sigh.

"What you doing peering out the door? It's so cold." Jas was standing behind her.

"Beth's not home. I don't know what to do."

"Oh boy. You'd better ring Mum."

Ange had been too shocked to think of anything so simple. She grabbed her phone and speed dialed, which began to ring just as a police car drew to the curb. Two cops and a lady they did not recognize were inside. One of the officers got out and opened the door for the lady, helping her out and then to stand. Amazingly, it was Beth, arm in a sling, white dressing on her chin and cheek, scratches on her nose and face, discolored eyes. Hair everywhere, dress with mud down the front, blouse half undone, and she looked awful.

"Hello, Darling, thanks for ringing. We're just going into our hotel. How are you?" Her mother sounded so cheerful. So unaware of the drama they were watching.

"Hi, Mum, we're well, but... look, don't worry, I'm going to call you back soonest, but it looks as though Auntie Beth has been in an accident. She's just come home."

"Oh my God! Can you put her on? Is she all right?"

"Mum, I'll call you. But right now... bye." And she hung up as Beth tottered towards them.

"That fucking bastard. That lowdown shitfaced bastard." Beth was so furious she was spitting. "That fucking husband of mine has issued a court order to get the boys. Says I'm not a fit person. I'm their fucking mother, for christ sake. I'm...'

The cop spoke to Angela. "Are you Angela Arbutt?" She could only nod. "I'm afraid your aunt here got herself into a bit of a scuffle with the man in question. We had to restrain her, then take her to get patched up. Are you able to see to her? I understand she's living here at present?" Angela nodded again. "We can send someone to help, but for now, if she could get some rest? We'll have to pick her up again later, take her down for questioning, so we'll get a welfare down here as soon as we can, probably an hour or so."

"I guess that's all right." Her heart was pounding. She wanted to run. She turned her head, saw the look of panic on her sister's face, picked up her aunt's handbag that the cop had placed beside her, took the undamaged arm in her hand, and said in a voice that had gained five years in five minutes, "It's all right, Auntie Beth, you're home now. Come on, lets get inside, get you a coffee, have a look at you. The boys are asleep, and they're great. Come on, in we go."

Like a sleepwalker Beth took some tentative steps, finally making it inside. The cops watched until the door closed.