Lisa; An Old Photograph, Part Two

by Taylor

My Lisa memoirs continue into the beginning of the summer, a summer I remember quite well...

My mother left for her job at the tool and die company early in the morning. Sometimes I would be up to watch her hurry around as she got ready. Before walking out the door she might give me a pat on the head and tell me to be good. Suzy would still be sleeping.

It was summer vacation, and Suzy began to sleep in a lot. As far as our relationship, I don't want to say that she was avoiding me, but she seemed to be avoiding close contact, like maybe she was afraid of touching me or something. This made me feel sad. I missed the snuggling and the closeness.

With a quiet house in the morning, what I did have was the freedom to explore. After eating a bowl of cereal or some peanut butter toast with a glass of milk, I would find someplace to go in my mind, someplace faraway. My stuffed animals were either dead or dying, my Barbie doll looked like a broken crash-test dummy, but my mind was there, and I could quietly talk to myself until my sister arose.

Some mornings I played with myself, took my panties all of the way down and let myself float as I pressed the eraser head against the tip of my little pee-pee and twirled it. I kept an unused number 2 pencil with a clean eraser just for this purpose. I kept it tucked away in a drawer like I keep my vibrator now, and it makes me laugh. I was cute, I was sweet, I was innocent, but I could be one horny little girl...

Suzy's birthday was on a Saturday. I thought that would be a good thing. Maybe our mother would do something, give her an actual party, even if it was just the three of us together for the afternoon and evening. Suzy just laughed at me, telling me to forget about that, mom would go out like she always does... and get drunk and bring home some guy. She told me she would be lucky to get a present.

On Saturday, July 1, 1978, my sister Suzy's twelfth birthday, I went to the neighbor's pool in the afternoon with a girl named Michelle, a very pretty little girl my age with blonde hair and blue eyes. Suzy didn't want to go. She chose to stay home and hang out in her room. I couldn't understand it. It was her birthday; it was time to have fun.

The pool was crowded, more crowded than before with all kinds of kids, including Stacy Watts. However, her father was also there, sitting on the deck with the neighbor people, calling to Stacy every once in a while as he drank a beer. He seemed like a nice man, he was tall and had muscles and a pretty tan. He wore sunglasses and smiled a lot at the kids. He smiled at me wherever I went.

"What are you doing here?" Stacy asked me, swimming past me in the water.

"I was invited," I said. "I came with Michelle."

"Is your sister here to babysit you?"

"No," I replied, and then I thought about it for a second and I said, "But I see your daddy is here to babysit you."

Wow! Her face turned red and she turned away. I started to move away, thinking it was over, and then she came back and grabbed me, picking me up and slamming me down into the water again. I didn't know if she wanted to drown me or what, but her father's voice called out firm and clear like that of a drill sergeant:

"Stacy Marie Watts!"

It was not a shout or a yell, but Stacy heard him and froze in the water. I just seemed to slip from her grasp effortlessly. I moved back and looked at her. Her head was down, her arms were just floating.

"Apologize to the young lady, Stacy Marie," Mr. Watts said.

"Lisa..."

"Louder!" her father said.

Everybody in and around the pool was standing or sitting in silence. I didn't know what to think.

"Lisa, I'm sorry I picked you up and threw you down," Stacy said loud and clear.

"It's OK," I said, feeling very embarrassed.

"Stacy Marie!" her father said. "It's time to go home!"

Stacy swam to the ladder and climbed up out of the water where her father placed a towel about her shoulders. People went back to talking and kids went back to swimming. I went back to swimming. The crowd thinned out a little bit but not much. I kept thinking about Stacy and her Dad.

Michelle and I didn't stay much longer. We left and I walked her to her house and headed on to mine. As soon as I got to the corner, a good distance away, I could hear my sister and my mother shouting at each other. I crossed the street, bundling up in my towel, covering my head.

I hurried along the sidewalk, turned at our driveway, passed the car and garage, ran to the backyard gate and hustled through. I sat down on the row of cinder blocks in our backyard and put my face in my hands. I cried. Not again, not again. Not on Suzy's birthday, please. I sat for a long time crying about it, crying as they shouted, until all of a sudden I realized it was quiet.

I wiped my eyes with my towel and I approached the backdoor. I entered quietly. I walked through the kitchen and sneaked my head around the corner. Suzy was sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette. Music was playing on the old stereo. Suzy had her feet up on the coffee table, stretching her shapely legs. She smiled at me.

"Hi, Lisa," she said. "Are you OK? You look like you been crying."

"I heard yelling," I said. "I hid in the backyard."

"Well, Mom's gone now."

"What about dinner?"

Suzy reached into her shorts pocket and pulled out money. She grinned.

"Pizza!" she exalted. "And what you are listening to is my new Elton John Album."

"So what were you two fighting about?" I asked.

She just smiled. She wouldn't tell me. I took a bath, put on shorts and a t-shirt, and when I came out the pizza was arriving. Suzy had ordered Coke too. We ate a lot and talked and watched TV and Mom stayed out nice and late. When she did come home, we were already in our beds, and I didn't hear a man with her. It wasn't a perfect birthday for Suzy, but she was OK with it, and after all it was her birthday.

I think I learned something about life that day, watching the way life went on after Stacy's father put her on show, seeing the way my sister just laughed it up after battling it out with our mother. It made me feel kind of sad and lost.

On the fourth of July my mother just sat around and didn't do much of anything. She looked bored. She drank whiskey and sat on the couch. Suzy dragged me out of there.

It was a beautiful day, and my sister took me to the park. I went on the swings and the monkey bars and the slide while she sat on a bench and watched me, a calm smile on her face. After I was done, she asked me if I just wanted to walk. So we walked.

We didn't just walk, we wandered. We went places I had never seen. I got really hot and thirsty so we stopped and had a couple of sodas. We headed back home and found our mother passed out on the couch. Suzy just shook her head at me and said she would make dinner. It was my favorite, hot dogs and macaroni and cheese, yum!

That evening, after whiling away our time in Suzy's room, we made the walk to the fireworks. We spread out a blanket and lay down together, and for the first time in what seemed like forever to me, we snuggled as it approached twilight. Suzy smiled at me. Then the first firework went off, one of those loud booming ones. It made me jump a bit, but after that I was OK.

Oh, how spectacular that show was! It was so magical and pretty! Of course, as a little girl, I found them all to be spectacular. But Suzy was there, my sister, my big sister, to share it all with me, and that made it even more special. When it came to the finale, we hugged tight as one firework after another went off in a grand show of color and light. Suzy's eyes seemed to be sparkling.

"That was so cool!" she said, squeezing my hand as we walked home. When we arrived home, our mother was no longer on the couch. Suzy took a peek and found she had put herself to bed. Oh, well, she had missed a good time. Suzy asked me to help her with the dinner dishes and I felt like a big girl, even though I had to kneel on a kitchen chair.

Afterward, it was late and I was tired, I was yawning. I changed into my nightgown and Suzy came into my room. She didn't snuggle with me, but she did caress my face and kiss my forehead and tuck me in.

"I enjoyed our day together, Lisa," she said.

"Me too," I said.

"Good night," she said as she turned out the light.

"Good night," I said. "Suzy?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She returned to the bed and leaned over, tucking her arms beneath me. I reached up and hugged her about the neck.

"I love you, too," she said, her voice cracking a bit. "Don't you ever forget it." And she let me go, quickly leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Don't you ever forget it, she said, and no, I never have.

  After the fourth of July, Suzy began to sleep in later and later. It was one of those mornings, long after she had gone to work, that I found my way into my mother's room. I was naked, fresh from my bath, gazing at myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of her bedroom door. I turned on the light to see myself better.

Suzy had said I was pretty. I guessed she was right. She had never told me how I was pretty. I liked my tan. It was dark and my skin shined in the light. My hair looked pretty hanging there wet and black. But I looked so small and skinny compared to Suzy. She had so many curves and I had almost none at all. Of course, she was older.

I began to look around for things to put on. There were some imitation pearls that looked pretty on me. There was a necklace, but it didn't look right with the pearls, so I put it back. I liked the pearls. I turned from side to side, doing a little dance for myself, posing, arching my back and shaking my hips. I smiled.

There was a chair nearby. I pulled it up to the door and sat down. I opened my legs wide before the mirror and spread the underdeveloped lips of my pee-pee. They were so very pink. I looked down at them and then up at them in the mirror, and began searching for that little thing that caused all of the tingles. I found it.

Sitting on the chair, my legs spread before the mirror, I watched myself as I touched that tingly thing. I watched my finger touch it, I watched my pee-pee, I watched my body, and I watched my face. I liked it. It was interesting to watch myself. It made it a little more exciting. I wanted to get my pencil but I didn't really want to move.

I watched my little toes flexing as I scooted my butt forward on the chair. I could see myself flushing in the mirror, my face and chest and tummy turning redder from moment to moment. It felt better and better as I rubbed faster with my fingers, and my legs began to shake, as if I couldn't control them. There was this feeling, almost like I had to pee, but I didn't pee.

I closed my eyes and felt it, whatever it was, this wonderful rush of warmth that kind of turned into a throbbing down in my pee-pee, and a whole mass of tingles that spread all over my body. I also felt these strange little spasms in the arches of my feet. I didn't cry out, I may have whimpered, I know I gasped at least a few times. It doesn't really matter.

When it was over I sat and looked at myself in the mirror for a moment, a thin layer of moisture glistening on my brow. I didn't know what I had just experienced; I just knew it was very good. The problem was that I didn't have a lot of things that were very good. This, without having a name, immediately went high on my list.

  I was seven years old with a sister heavily into puberty, her hormones gone wild. Suzy slept late and when she got up, often she was quiet or depressed. By the time she was in the mood to socialize, our mother was home, and then it was seclusion time again. Suzy never kept me out of her room, but when she let me in, she wouldn't feel much like talking or doing much. In the meantime, I began to hang out with Michelle more often. It was nice to have a friend my age. We would go to the neighbor's pool to swim together, and on weekends we saw Stacy there a couple of times, of course under the close supervision of her father. We would go to the park and swing together. We would climb on the monkey bars. And Michelle would invite me to her house to play and drink Kool-Aid.

Going to Michelle's house was quite an experience. She had so many nice things, but she didn't try to be a show off. And the house was so nice. I remember seeing it from the outside, but that was nothing compared to the inside. Everything was so brightly colored, and every room was different. Michelle said her mother made it that way. I met her mother.

"So you're Lisa," Michelle's mother said the first time we met. "Oh, will you look at that face," she smiled. "You are adorable."

I remember on my second visit I spilled my Kool-aid and I panicked, waiting for all hell to break loose. Michelle's mother calmly approached, hugged me around the shoulders, and told me it was an accident. She cleaned it up and smiled at me. God, I wanted a mother like that.

Her Dad was nice, too. When he would walk through, he would grab Michelle and throw her up over his back. Sometimes he would tickle her, but most often he would just end up giving her a hug and asking how his big girl was. He joked with me a lot and made me laugh. After a couple of visits, I even let him swing me around a couple of times. Michelle never asked why I didn't invite her to my house. Maybe she knew the answer. Just the same, she would have come if I had asked her, and I don't think she would have said anything about our dirty little house.

Of course, after what I experienced in front of my mother's full-length mirror, playing with myself became an every morning and every night thing. Most often I did it in my own room, morning or night, but sometimes I would venture beyond, do it in front of my mother's mirror again, or perhaps even on the living room couch. I did not receive the ultimate pleasure every time, but I was not worried about it. It was all still so new, and no matter what happened, just touching myself felt good.

One morning I woke up feeling drips of water falling upon my head. I opened my eyes and looked up, wiping the water away with my little hands. The window right above my bed was wide open and outside the sky was gray and gloomy. Rain was falling and hitting the flimsy mesh of the screen in my open window and some of the drops were coming right through.

I didn't care. I laid there and listened to the rain. I listened to it hitting the grass, the roof of the house, the metal of the gutter, and against the glass and screen in my window. I let the raindrops fall upon my head, and I thought of that song, even though I couldn't remember the words, just the first line...

I slipped out of bed, quietly left my room, saw to it that my mother was gone, and I had a quick pee before returning to my room and closing the door. I peeled off my little nightgown and slipped off my panties and opened the drawer of my dresser. I found my number 2 pencil and sat down on the bed.

The rain had really picked up, and the sky had become a little darker. I moved my damp pillow away from the windowsill and put it behind me, facing the window, scooting my butt closer and closer. I spread my legs wide and lay back, putting the pillow under my head. The cool raindrops were falling on my tanned thighs and between them.

I closed my eyes. All I could hear was the rain falling, and an occasional rumble of distant thunder. I put the pencil aside and spread my folds with my fingers. I got my fingers wet and I rubbed with them, rubbed that little thing that caused all the tingling, and it tingled. I was a little girl, it was a gloomy, rainy summer morning, and it would probably rain all day, but I was content, I was at peace.

I don't know how long I had been lying there touching myself, but it was long enough to be very aroused, when I felt something touch my arm. I opened my eyes and turned my head and at the same time her hand gently grasped my arm.

"I'm sorry, Lisa," Suzy whispered very close to my ear, kneeling on the floor, leaning over the side of the bed. "I woke up and I was coming to check on you... to see if you wanted breakfast. I didn't mean to... please, don't stop what you're doing. Do you do this a lot?"

I looked in my sister's eyes. I didn't know whether to tell her the truth or not. She was smiling, and I thought she wanted me to say yes. As I lay there on my bed, my legs spread before my open window, my hands resting on my thighs, with my sister leaning over me for an answer, I looked to her and nodded Yes. She shook her head and reached out and caressed my face.

"I was watching," she whispered. "Not for very long, but I was watching. It feels good to play with your pussy, doesn't it? That's a grown-up word for it."

I nodded. Suzy's fingers caressed her way down around my ear, along my neck, then my chest. It felt good, kind of tingly, very relaxing. I just lay back and let her do it.

"I play with my pussy a lot, too," she said. "It's so much fun. Why don't you keep going? I didn't mean to stop you, sweetheart."

"I don't know," I said. I just felt nervous about rubbing it, like with her there it wouldn't feel right. It was weird, because she was Suzy, and I loved her more than anybody else in the world, I trusted her, felt safe with her. But she didn't press me, she didn't try to make me do it. Instead, she continued to caress me lower and lower, moving down my flat little tummy.

I looked at her. I did not say a word as my sister began to caress my inner thighs, finding her way to my pussy. She was very gentle when she began to probe my folds with her fingers. She knew exactly what to touch and how to touch, and the entire time she was touching me, her eyes never stopped looking into mine.

"God, you're so beautiful, my little sister," she said softly. "Now close your eyes and relax, baby girl..." her voice trailed off in a whisper.

It was magic all over again, having my "pussy" played with by my big sister. Not that it wasn't hard to relax; it was hard to lay back and close my eyes and enjoy it like I did when I was alone. But there was something about her being there, too, that was interesting, something extra that made me tingle all the more. Suzy brought her lips to my ear. I trembled made a whimpering sound.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" she whispered.

"No," I whispered back.

"Here, scoot back and move over."

I moved back and made room as my sister stripped out of her t-shirt and panties and joined me, lying beside me on the bed. On her side, tucking my leg between her thighs, she returned her fingers to my little pussy. I looked at her. Just in the short time since I had seen her naked, her breasts had puffed out noticeably. The nipples were hard. She was flushed.

I closed my eyes, feeling it all, feeling Suzy's flesh near me once again, so soft and warm. I had missed it so much, being near her, snuggling with her, and I just wanted to reach out and grab hold of her. I didn't do anything quite that urgent, but I did move my arm and put it around her neck, hugging her. It was enough to cause her to press her lips to my forehead.

Regardless of everything, of how comfortable I was, of how close I felt to my sister, I just couldn't relax enough to let go. I opened my eyes and looked at Suzy and she smiled at me. I asked her to stop rubbing it.

"Doesn't it feel good?"

"Yes," I said, "but it's okay. We can do something else."

"Like what?" she asked.

I hadn't thought about that, so it took me a few seconds. I looked over at her and I remembered, and I came out with the words.

"You can... fuck me," I said.

"Really?" she whispered. "Are you sure that's what you want? You won't get scared?"

"I won't get scared," I said. "I promise."

"Why don't you fuck me instead, baby?"

That was an interesting idea. I had never thought of that at all. It sounded like fun. I smiled.

Suzy lay on her back and spread her legs apart. I moved down between her legs, preparing to climb on top of her, but I stopped. There before me was my sister's pussy, its coral red lips spread apart and glistening with moisture. There was still only a fluffy tuft of brown hair at the base of her belly. Suzy lifted her head and looked at me.

"Would you like to touch it?" she asked. "It's okay with me."

I sat immobile for a moment and then my hand seemed to move with a will of its own. I reached for the Suzy's pussy that kind of looked to me like the petals of a flower. She reached out and took my hand and spread out my fingers, pressing them to the hood at the tip of the flower. She sucked in a hard breath of air.

"Oh, Lisa," she whispered, "rub it for me."

I began to rub it as if I were rubbing my own. She told me to rub harder so I rubbed harder. She told me to rub faster so I rubbed faster. She gasped and bucked, grinding her hips. My fingers were getting wet. Then she reached out and grabbed me, pulling me down between her legs, telling me to rub against her pussy with my belly. I ground against her like I thought she wanted, but it wasn't quite enough, so she grabbed onto my hips and began to help.

"Oh..." she began to moan, grinding hard against me, "oh... oh..." in her soft, pretty little voice. Then she held me tight and cried out, her body shaking, her thighs closing about me, and once again I felt trapped, a little frightened, but I remembered there was nothing to be afraid of. This was what I had discovered in front of my mother's mirror.

I felt the warmth and softness of my sister's beautiful body as she held me and her breathing settled down. She continued to hold me for a long time and she asked me if I was OK. I told her I was. She told me she loved me. She told me it was OK if I didn't want to be touched like this, that she would understand, but if I wanted to go on, it would have to be a secret.

"I know," I said. Growing up in that house, living in that world, meant keeping secrets all the time. It was a part of my life.

After we dressed and had breakfast, we sat and watched TV together on the couch. Suzy lay down and put her head in my lap and fell asleep as I stroked her pretty hair. I stopped looking at the TV and watched the rain through the front windows as it continued to fall. I wouldn't be going out to play or swim, or going over to Michelle's house where her mother treated me so nice.

I suddenly felt very alone and confused, and before I knew it there were tears rolling down my cheeks. My sister continued to sleep as I shed my silent tears. I was careful not to wake her.

(to be continued)