15 comments/ 49205 views/ 35 favorites Jesus, Sis and Me By: SikFuk This is not my story. I found it in a tattered notebook buried in a box at a yard sale. The box contained two old baseball gloves, which I thought were worth the two dollars I paid for it. Other items in the box included a ball cap, a ring of keys, and, buried in the bottom, a handful of faded photographs. In one of the pictures, two teenaged girls are striking sexy poses in old-fashioned one-piece bathing suits. In another, a young dude is perched on a fence rail in a field. His shirt is off, and he's flashing a loopy grin. I'm not certain, but I believe he's the author of this story. I entered it in the Summer Lovin' Contest because it seemed to be a "lost summer" type of tale. If you find it an enjoyable read, please vote and comment. Thank you for stopping by. The events herein occurred during the summer of my eighteenth year. I want the reader to know I mean no disrespect to the Lord, or to my sister by revealing our most intimate secrets. My only desire in sharing this chronicle of events is to give others a frame of reference for their journey down the winding road to adulthood under the guidance of the Lord Jesus Christ. The Last Pew Walking into church with Sis always gives me a thrill, especially in the summertime when she's wearing her white lacy dress. Everyone turns to watch us as we stroll in. I know it's her they're looking at, and that's fine with me. All I care about is inhaling her soapy clean smell, and hearing the rustle of the slip under her dress, and seeing the beginning of her bust cleavage peaking through the frilly white lace. Sometimes I notice the guys trying to catch a glimpse of her mostly hidden bust cleavage, but I don't worry about that. The guys in our county don't have much luck with Sis. Between her smart mouth and Daddy's shotgun, they've learned to keep their distance, and that's just fine with Sis. "I can't believe it," she'd say, coming in the door after one of the local yocals dropped her off after a date. "All he wanted to talk about was cows and trucks." Then she'd engage me in a tickle fight, and the local yokel would be quickly forgotten. Going to church on Sundays gives us a chance to ditch our parents, who don't approve of our local church because it's too liberal. My parents have their own brand of Christianity based on the Old Testament. Don't get me wrong, they respect and worship the Word, they just don't appreciate how the Word has been twisted into a pretzel by modern society. Some call my folks a backwards bunch, but I'd say they're happier than the rest of the world, at least the little bit of the world I've seen. Sis and I also like going to church because of the statue of Mary out in the church garden. There's this hedge behind the statue that acts like a secluded little fort, and it's a perfect place to practice-kiss. Sis and I are well aware of the fact that practice-kissing is probably a Sin in the eyes of the Lord, but we need to practice-kiss so we'll be comfortable with our 'sexuality' (I heard that word on a talk show) for when Sis finally meets her husband, and I finally meet my wife. We hope that by practice-kissing under the statue of Mary, the Lord will recognize our reverence to His teachings, and grant His forgiveness for our small, but pleasurable sin. Practice-kissing with Sis is quite wonderful; holding her in my arms, sticking my tongue in her mouth, feeling her little pear-sized bosoms mashed up against my chest. It can get uncomfortable when my pecker starts to ache, but it's only a temporary ache that goes away when we stop. Actually, it doesn't completely go away in the sense that if I think about Sis practice kissing, my pecker starts to ache again, and sometimes it aches so bad I have to make it spit, but Sis is worth the pain. There's just something about being close to her that gets me all riled up inside while at the same time making me feel calm and serene, as if I was in the Lord's presence. I'll admit, I had been getting curious about the words I kept hearing on the talk shows; words like "orgasm", "masturbation", "clitoral stimulation","cunnilingus", but when I'd look for them in my parent's dictionary, I could never find them because the pages had been ripped out. See, Mom and Dad home schooled us with the Scriptures, and they didn't allow any contact from the "Outsiders" which is what they call the rest of the world. They say the Outsiders are all descendants of Satan, and from what Sis and I could tell, they're probably right. When it was time for college, Mom and Pop wouldn't budge. They said we had to skip college so's we could take care of the animals and such. Now ain't that a pile of horse pucky? How's a guy and gal supposed to learn about courting when all they ever see is their own kin? I decided it was high time for me to get some firsthand knowledge about the birds and the bees, so when Mom and Dad left for their annual summer trip to some Bible conference in Chicago, I hatched my plan. Actually, my plan was nothing but a hunch. Sis is very competitive, always ready to take a dare, and I had a doozy in mind. I figured there was a pretty good chance Sis would haul off and punch my lights out when I asked her, but a guy has to pick his moment and go for it. It was about an hour after Mom and Dad had left. Sis and I had finished our chores, I was walking back from the barn, and Sis was sitting on the top rung of the back fence watching the leaves fall from the big maple tree on the south side of the house. I climbed up next to her, braced myself, took a deep breath, and then I said it: "I dare you to go to church this Sunday with no panties under your dress." I closed my eyes, expecting either a right cross to the chin or a gut punch, but nothing happened. "Are you serious?" she said, looking at me like I was from Mars. "I guess so," I said, amazed she hadn't punched me yet. She just sat there on the fence, chewing on a piece of straw. "What do I get if I do the dare?" I hadn't thought that far ahead, but I had to say something. "How about I ride you and Patty down to the lake next week?" "Really?" Her eyes lit up. Sis loves swimming in the lake, and our cousin Patty does too. Sensing I was holding a winning hand, I thought I'd try elaborating on the dare. "Sure, but there's a catch." "There's always a catch with you." I ignored that remark. "I'll ride you and Patty down to the lake if you'll change into your swimsuits while we're driving." "You're such a perv," she said, checking to make sure her flannel shirt was all buttoned up, but I could tell she was thinking about it. "Okay" I said, realizing I might have been pushing my luck, "how about if Patty has to change into her swimsuit? "I don't know if she'll go for that," Sis said, staring me down with her spooky blue eyes. "You could call her," I said. "You call her," she said, giving me a little nudge that almost flipped me backwards off the fence. "You're the one who's hot for her." "I'm not hot for her, and anyway, she's your friend," I said, snatching the straw-stick out of her mouth and tossing it over my shoulder, "and if you want a ride to the lake, you'll call her." Sis gave me the Devil look, the one where her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare, and then she hooked my ankle with her foot and flipped me backwards off the fence, but it was worth it, because that night she called Patty, and the dare was on. I could hardly wait for Sunday to come when Sis would wear no panties to church, but when the big day finally arrived, I was ill-prepared for the occasion. I was so excited that morning, I couldn't get my slacks on until I let my pecker spit. Then, while driving with Sis in my truck, my pecker wanted to spit again, but I had to tough it out. "Turn here," Sis said. "That's retarded. The church is straight ahead," I said, anxious to get the show on the road, but Sis was way ahead of me. "We want to get there two minutes late so we can pick an empty pew. Otherwise Cousin Lenny is likely to come sit with us, and I'm certainly not going to prove to him I'm wearing no panties." "Good thinking Sis," I said, my pecker already starting to ache. That's the thing about Sis. Maybe because she's a year older, she just seems to make better decisions. I guess that's one of the reasons I feel so safe with her. We snuck in during the opening hymn, sat through the prayers and invocation, and when the sermon finally started, I whispered: "Now, Sis?" She giggled, and an old lady in front of us gave us a sour look, but we didn't care. Sis started inching her dress up, but then somebody came down the aisle, so she stopped. By this time I was dying of curiosity, so I reached my hand over and laid it on her bare thigh. Instantly, she clamped her legs shut, but she let me leave my hand there. I waited till I could feel her relax, and then I inched my hand up her thigh. To my surprise, her legs slowly parted, like Moses parting the Red Sea, and suddenly I could feel the wispy tickle of her woman-hair. She gasped when I touched it. I waited for her to push my hand away, since her woman-hair proved she wasn't wearing panties, but she didn't. I couldn't believe my luck. All I could think of was that it must have been a miracle, so I sent a quick thank-you Prayer to Jesus for telling my sister to let me leave my hand up there under her flowered dress. Then, when I saw Jesus move the sunbeams that He had directed to shine through the stained-glass windows, I took that to be a sign that He approved of what Sis and I were doing, so I inched my fingers lower, sneaking down through her woman-hair jungle like a mountain lion snaking through the tall grass. When I reached her wet spot, she caught her breath and clamped her legs shut again, which jammed my middle finger about an inch into her baby chute. We stayed like that for a minuted or two, me with my finger trapped between her legs, and Sis with her body strung as tight as a new strand of barbed wire. I figured I might as well have some fun, so I wiggled my finger around. Suddenly, she opened her eyes wide, like she'd just seen a ghost, and her mouth formed this silent "O" kind of thing. Then, she was grabbing the edge of the pew like she was going to have to raise a butt cheek and fart, but she didn't fart. Instead, she sort of started bouncing, like when we ride on the back of the hay wagon. That's when my finger got all slippery-wet and I realized her slit was leaking. I wondered if she was pissing on me, but then I realized, it was only a couple of drops, and anyway, I'd made her piss before during our tickling contests, so I wasn't worried about it. So she sat there bouncing, for probably two sentences of the sermon. Then she eased back into the pew, like she was dead tired from loading the hay wagon, and she opened her legs and started fanning herself with the hem of her dress. That's when I took my hand out and wiped it on my slacks. I'll admit, I was really curious about what had just happened, but I wasn't about to ask her. It didn't seem like the type of thing you talked about in church. After the service, when we went out to practice-kiss behind the statue of Mary, Sis just kept going on and on, sticking her tongue in my mouth and jamming her tummy up against my hip. It was nice, but it was really making my pecker hurt, and I was glad when she finally stopped. Then, on the way home, she wanted to stop at Walmart to buy a new swimsuit for our trip to the lake, since she'd totally outgrown the last one. The only trouble is, our Walmart isn't actually a Walmart; it's a Walmart-wannabe, owned and operated by the church. When Sis realized the only swimsuits our Walmart-wannabe sold were the old-fashioned one-piece style, she took the Lord's name in vain, calling the church a bunch of God-Damned Tight-Assed Puritan Fuckwads. It shocked me to hear Sis talk that way, but it also made me proud of her. Even though I knew taking the Lord's name in vain was a sin, I also knew I'd rather see a woman in a bikini (like on the billboard over on the Interstate) than in an old-fashioned one-piece bathing suit, and I figured Sis was justified in calling the church a bunch of God-Damned Tight-Assed Puritan Fuckwads. When we got home, Sis ran to her room to try on the new one-piece swimsuit, and when she walked into my room and did a little spin, it made my pecker hurt to look at her. The swimsuit did something to her bosoms. I think it lifted and separated them (I heard that term on TV once, over at my cousin Billie's house) and it made her baby-chute area look sort of like a little ditch with a small smooth mountain on each side. I'd never noticed that before when I'd seen her in her panties, and it made my pecker hurt so bad, I had to go to the bathroom and make it spit. Later that night, Sis caught me on the way upstairs to our rooms. "Can we do the dare again next Sunday?" she asked, all breathless and flushed. "Sure Sis," I said, trying to pretend I didn't really care, when I really did care. "I was thinking," Sis said, taking my hand like she did sometimes when we'd be out at night counting stars. "What if you were to, you know, not wear underpants too?" I could feel myself blushing, but I said okay. Then she gave me a goodnight peck on the cheek, and we went off to our separate rooms. Later that night, lying in my bed, thinking about Sis and her flowery dress in the church pew, and Sis in her new swimsuit with her lifted-and-separated bosoms, I had to make my pecker spit twice before I could finally get to sleep. ***** "Hey," Sis whispered, giving my shoulder a nudge. "Are you awake?" "Sure," I said, shielding my eyes from the blinding light of morning. The fact that Sis was sitting on my bed wasn't unusual. She would come into my room and wake me all the time. What was unusual about this time was what she was wearing, which was nothing but her high-waisted white cotton panties and her new Sears bra. "What's going on Sis?" I asked, bunching up the covers so she wouldn't see my swollen pecker twitching under the blanket. "It's almost time to get up, dum dum." She giggled, pinching my thigh with such force that I sat bolt upright in bed. "You want to start a tickle fight in your bra and panties?" I asked her. Actually, I kind of liked the idea, but that wasn't what was on her mind. "No, dum dum," she smiled. "I was wondering if you wanted to... um... you know... take my panties off you so could touch me again?" She reached for the frayed waistband... "Sis!" I blurted, convinced that Jesus was watching, "you know we can't do that here! God would smite us down with his wrath, and we'd go to hell in an instant." "Oh," she frowned, her panties already half way off her round white bottom, her matted woman-hair peeking out like a possum at the edge of the road. "That's why we have to do it at the church, Sis. So we can get His blessing." "Dammit!" she snapped, getting up to leave. "Sometimes I wish God would just take a goddamned day off so I could have some fun!" She marched off down the hall, and before I even heard her bedroom door slam shut, my pecker was spitting all over my chest. It didn't take long to realize Sis was in a strange mood that day. I mean, Sis had her strange moods, especially once a month, when she would turn into a spitting wildcat while her woman-business was going on, but this mood was different. Sis came down for breakfast wearing her secret home-made low-cut jeans, the ones Momma would burn if she knew existed, and she flounced around the house like a retard, making sure everybody (everybody being me) knew she wasn't wearing her panties today. "What do you think?" she asked, her stringy brown hair dangling in her face like a movie star. "I can see your butt-crease, Sis." "Shut up!" she said, spinning around and marching off, her butt crease dutifully following her. But then, two minutes later, she was back again trying to trick me into a wrestling match. Now I know better than to wrestle Sis. She's strong and she's fast and she's ruthless, and I'm no match for her, but that day, when she jumped on top of me and pinned me to the floor, I had no choice. We rolled around, laughing and panting, tickling each other till I thought I was going to piss my pants. During the commotion, she ran her hand up under my shirt, so I did the same to her, but I accidentally might have shoved her bra up and her left bosom might have fallen out. It was under her shirt, so I couldn't tell for sure. 'Eeek!" she screeched, scooting backwards on the floor, but when she did, the button on her home-made low-rise jeans popped off, and they slid down a good six inches. She looked down in horror at the mass of brown curly hair peeking out between her legs. It looked like Scruffy, Lulubelle's mop-dog. I thought it was really funny, but Sis didn't think it was funny at all. She gasped, like the Lord had just smitten her with the specter of shame, and she tried frantically to jerk her pants back up, but since she was sitting on them she wasn't having much luck. That's when I noticed I could see the top edge of her baby chute, only it didn't look like a chute at all, it looked more like a pink, wrinkled slot. Funny thing. It didn't feel like a wrinkled slot in the church pew, it felt more like a wet mouth sucking up my finger like it was the last noodle on the plate. "Damn you, Bobby! Damn you for disrespecting your sister!" She got up clumsily, still tugging at her jeans, and marched up the stairs to her room, her butt-crease still showing even after she'd pulled her jeans back up. Now, normally, when Sis got mad at me, I wouldn't expect to see her for the rest of the day, but on this day, it only took her a half hour before she was standing in my bedroom doorway. She was wearing her old blue flannel shirt, the one that substitutes for a bath robe. Usually, she'd have underwear on underneath, but today she didn't. I could tell because of the slits up the side of the shirt, and the jiggle of her pear-bosoms. 'You want to play catch later?" she asked, boring her blue eyes into me like one of Dad's new drill bits. I would have kept staring, but a couple of seconds of her blue eyes boring into me was all I could take and I had to look away. "Cause if you do want to play catch, I'm going to wait and take my bath afterwards." "Sure Sis," I said, taking another peek at the side of her butt cheek, "we can play catch if you want." Sis loves playing catch, especially if it's her turn to wear the Wilson glove. She treats that glove like it's her favorite doll; cuddling it, caressing it, calling it 'sweetie'. "Get ready, sweetie," she'd say. "Here comes a pop fly." The other glove we use is one my Dad gave me. It's a sorry excuse for a baseball mitt. It has no rawhide strips holding the fingers together at the ends, and it smells like mothballs, but it's better than nothing. Sis and I would throw that ball around till our arms ached, and the more dramatic the catches were, the more she liked it. She loved jumping up high to make a catch way over her head, and I liked that too, because that's when I'd get to see her white tummy showing from under her T-shirt, or if she jumped high enough, maybe I'd catch a glimpse of her Sears bra. Then, after we were exhausted, we'd flop down in the grass and look up at the clouds, and talk about where we were going to go when we left the farm. "I'm going to France," she'd say confidently. "Why France?" I'd say. She'd roll over on her side, with our faces so close, we could practice kiss if we were in the church yard instead of at home, and she'd say: "I see London, I see France, I see someone's underpants!" Then she'd jerk my jeans down till my jockey shorts were showing, and she'd scamper off, cackling like a hyena. Jesus, Sis and Me What Sis likes even more than playing catch is stargazing. She knows the names to all the planets, most of the stars, and many of the constellations. We'd go up to Lookout Rock on a moonless night, and she'd point them out to me, one by one. "That's Orion," she'd say in a whisper, like it was a secret. "And that's the Big Dipper." I think it was Sis' way of escaping this dusty, worn out place. Up there on Lookout Rock, she could just float up to the heavens and be anywhere she wanted to be. I wasn't that interested in astronomy, but I went up there with her anyway. What I liked about it was, when she'd be pointing out Pluto and Mars, I'd be standing right behind her so I could follow where she was pointing, and sometimes, if it was chilly, she'd pull my arms around her to keep her warm, and I'd get to smell her hair. My favorite was her girlie-shampoo smell, which is all flowery and nice, but if she'd been working all day, her hair might smell like alfalfa, or blueberry bushes, or pine boughs. That was fine. I even liked it when she hadn't bathed in a while and her hair smelled like one of our hound dogs. I think maybe it wasn't the smell so much as it was the closeness; just the two of us, whispering in the dark. That's what we were doing that Monday night after the tickle fight gone bad and the game of catch. We were up at Lookout Rock. She was pointing out some new constellation she'd just read about (and I forget the name of,) and then she pulled my arms around her to keep her warm, but it was already warm, so I was a little surprised. I was even more surprised when she asked me if I wanted to practice-kiss. Even though I did want to practice-kiss with her, I had to explain (for the hundredth time) that we were only allowed to practice-kiss on Church Property, in honor of the Lord's Teachings. "What if we don't kiss?" she whispered. That caught me off guard, and while I was pondering a proper response, she grabbed my hands and fished them up under the front of her sweatshirt. "Go ahead," she whispered. "We're not kissing, right?" She shoved my hands up under her bra and let me feel her pear-sized bosoms; except that they didn't feel like pears at all, they felt all soft and squishy, like a couple of water balloons left over from Halloween. We stood there in the dark for a while, and when I started investigating her nipples, she leaned her head back and let out a big sigh. Suddenly, my lips were touching the side of her neck, and for a second, I thought Jesus would smite us, thinking we were kissing, but technically, we weren't kissing, we were just fooling around, so I think Jesus was okay with it. "Do you like how my tits feel?" she whispered, her eyes closed, her lips curled in a Christmas smile. "Yeah, Sis," I said. "Squeeze my nipples," she whispered. I did, and it was like turning on a light switch. All of a sudden, she was writhing, and panting, and the next thing I knew, she was stuffing my hand down into her pants, which she'd somehow managed to unbutton. I suppose when she shoved my finger down into her wet spot I should have stopped and reflected on what I was doing, but I was sort of caught up in the moment. Plus, to be honest, she had a death grip on my hand and I don't think I could have pulled it out of there if I tried, so there I was, one hand on her left bosom, the other buried in her wet spot, and my pecker feeling like it was going to explode. I had no choice. I jammed the front of my jeans up against her butt and started rubbing. That's when I noticed the smell emanating from between her legs, like some kind of spring salad my mom might have concocted, with blueberries from down by the river, and fresh vegetables from our garden, and some kind of special fish sauce from a recipe her grandmother had given her. Sis' new woman-smell was so intoxicating, I almost missed seeing the blue-white shooting star that swooped down out of the sky and plopped behind the mountains. In fact, it looked like it dropped right into the lake, which is just over on the other side of Blue Dog Ridge. The shooting star sort of woke me back up, and I wondered if it was a sign from Jesus? Was He telling me Sis and I were committing a sin, or was it a sign of his blessing? It was very confusing, since we weren't practice-kissing or anything; we were just watching the stars. What happened next was very similar to what happened in the church pew. Sis started panting, and hanging her mouth open, and grinding my finger into her wet spot, and then she started vibrating, but that's not the weird part. The weird part was, when she started vibrating, her springy butt was pressed up against my pecker, and my pecker decided to spit, right there inside my jeans. It was a moment I'll never forget. I believe I saw a dozen shooting stars in that moment, but that couldn't be, since I'd never seen a dozen shooting stars all at once before, so I just chalked it up to my imagination. We stayed like that for a nice long while, Sis panting like she'd just finished loading the hay wagon, and me pressing my stinging pecker against her butt, making sure there was no spit left in it. Finally, she pulled my hand out from down between her legs. "We should probably get back, huh?" Sis whispered. "Yeah," I said, wiping my smelly finger on my jeans. I liked walking back down the hill with Sis' hand in mine. It felt like we had shared something special together, up there leaning against Lookout Rock. I'll admit, it was a little icky feeling inside my shorts, but it was worth it. My only regret was that we couldn't practice-kiss, because it seemed that would have been the perfect way to end the night. Just as we were coming down off the ridge, Sis stopped abruptly. "Do you think we'll ever leave this place?" she asked. I looked down at the valley below us. I saw my truck, and Dad's rusted out old Pontiac, and the tractor, and the dim light coming from our upstairs bathroom window. I shrugged. "I don't know Sis. Where would we go?... Besides France," I said, grabbing my jeans, so she couldn't pull them down. "San Francisco," she said, with a sense of certainty. I was going to ask her why San Francisco, but Sis always knows best, and there was no reason to doubt her. That night, lying in my bed, I realized I liked the new Sis much better than the old Sis. The old Sis would never have let me touch her wet spot, or let me play with her bosoms up on Lookout Rock, or press her body up against mine and jiggle like the hay-wagon ride, but the new one would. The most puzzling part about the new Sis was the falling star I'd seen up at Lookout Rock. What did it mean? I thought about that falling star most of the night, and by morning I'd come up with the answer. Since the falling star had plopped into the lake, and the lake was the reward for the no-panties dare, Jesus was telling me he approved of what Sis and I were doing. I thanked Jesus for his Revelation, and I thanked Him for letting me touch my sister's wet spot. I also told Him I realized the road to enlightenment could be arduous, and I was grateful that He would be accompanying Sis and I on our journey into the unknown. When I finished talking to Him, the sunrise sent a shaft of golden light through my window, which proved that He had, indeed, been listening. The Lake Patty was waiting out front of her folk's house when we drove up. She looked just like a model from the Sears catalog, with her fancy bermuda shorts and her checked blouse like a tablecloth. "Hi kids," she said. I don't know why she always called us kids. I guess maybe because she was one year older than Sis? But we weren't children, for crying out loud, we were adults... well, adults who'd never had sex, but who has sex until they get married anyway? People who live in the city and don't believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, that's who. "Got your swimsuit" Sis asked. "Of course," Patty said, swinging her pink bag up into Sis' lap. Sis scooted over to let her in, which, a week ago, would have been a huge disappointment for me. A week ago, I would have wanted Patty sitting next to me so I could smell her hair and feel her hip smooshed up against mine, but this week, I was glad it was Sis. Ever since Lookout Ridge, I felt as though Sis and I had a special connection, something only she and I knew about. It was empowering (another word I heard on a TV talk show once.) "Check out my new swimsuit," Sis said, unbuttoning her blouse. "Cool" Patty said with a grin. Patty has a great smile; just like a toothpaste commercial. In fact, I'd have to say she's quite a bit cuter than Sis. Patty has the big brown puppy eyes, rosy cheeks, freckles, and a swivel in her walk that would make a belly dancer jealous. (Not that I've ever seen a real live belly dancer in person, but we do have neighbors with a TV out here in the sticks.) I was going to ask Patty when she was going to change into her swimsuit, since that was part of the bargain, but I didn't want to seem too anxious, so I let it slide. I fired up the truck and Patty pulled a cassette out of her bag and stuck it in the player. "Check it out," she said. "It's a new band called Heart." "Rhymes with fart," I said. Sis slugged me in the shoulder. "Shut up," she growled, as the sound of electric guitars and drums filled the cab of the pickup. I have to admit, once I got used to it, I kind of liked it. Our parents wouldn't let us listen to secular music, but Patty didn't care. She was always bringing us new stuff to listen to when my folks weren't around. The music went on and on, and then they played the tape again, and this time they were singing along. "Dog and butterfly." What in God's name does that mean? Why would someone write a song about a dog and a butterfly? Then there was the one about the magic man with the magic hands. I guess I always did like magic, but I don't think that's what they were talking about in the song. Every time the singer said "hands", Patty and Sis would grab each other's thighs and giggle. Girls can be so stupid. Before we knew it, we were at the top of Blue Dog Ridge, the lake shimmering below us like a blue-green emerald plopped in the middle of the golden hills. I reached for the dashboard and stopped the tape. "Um, Patty..." I said, slowing the truck, "weren't you supposed to change into your swimsuit on the way to the lake?" "You were serious?" she said, frowning as if I'd just farted at the dinner table. "Well,,, yeah. It was part of the deal." "You didn't say he was serious, Shirley." Sis shrugged. "This is so stupid," Patty said as she started undoing the buttons of her blouse. Just as she got it unbuttoned and I could see her white lacy bra and her big melon bosoms jiggling like jello, Sis grabbed her towel and held it up like a curtain, shielding my view of Patty undressing. "Hey!" I said, grabbing at it with one hand. "Matthew 5:28," Sis said, with that smug goody-two-shoes look on her face. It didn't dawn on me right then, but Sis always did have a way of picking and choosing her Bible verses, depending on whether or not they reinforced whatever decision it was she was trying to justify. I sighed, peeking past the edge of the towel curtain as Patty shimmied out of her bermuda shorts. Next came her panties, pink and lacy. I was so intent on spying on her, I sort of forgot about watching the road. "Hey!" Sis squealed, as the truck rattled into the ditch. She dropped her towel curtain to grab the dashboard, and I saw Patty, completely naked, her tits bounced up and down like a pair of fishing buoys out on the lake. With one eye on the road and the other on Patty, I pulled the truck back on the gravel just in time. "Bobby!" Sis whined, "is seeing Patty naked worth dying for?" "Sorry," I said, as I downshifted into second. Sis picked up her towel to give Patty her privacy, but it was too late. The image of Patty naked was burned into my mind forever, especially her baby chute, which looked more like some kind of pink orchid flower squished betweens her thighs. Looking past the edge of the towel, I could see Patty stepping into her pink one-piece suit and slipping it up her legs. I really wanted to see how she fit her bosoms into the thing, but Sis and her stupid towel wouldn't let me. Just then, as we rounded a blind curve, a big fat RV appeared in front of us. "Eeek!" Patty squealed. Sis threw the towel over Patty's chest, but it was too late. It was obvious by the driver's expression, had already seen it. As the RV rumbled passed, I heard a smashing sound. I looked in the rear view mirror, and the RV had taken out two fence posts and knocked a mailbox down into the gully. "Oops", I said, trying to cover up my guilt for almost killing the blue-haired couple in the RV. "Idiot," Sis said, pulling the towel back up so Patty could finish. With Patty safely suited up, I pulled into the parking lot, and while the girls were in the bathroom, I looked around. There were only a few people there; an old guy with a dog, a young couple with little kids, and three rowboats out fishing. That was a good sign. I knew of a little secluded cove, over at the end of the lake, and it looked as though it would be deserted. We grabbed our blankets and towels and trekked over there, and sure enough, there wasn't a soul around. "I love it!" Patty exclaimed. The girls dashed into the water, and I spread out the blanket, watching Sis and Patty cavorting like little kids. After a few minutes, they traipsed back up and flopped down on the blanket. "Do my back?" Patty asked Sis, as she handed her the Coppertone. Then she pulled the straps off her shoulders. "God I hate these one-piece swimsuits." She looked up at me. "Is anyone going to mind if we, you know, go topless?" "Won't bother me," I reassured her. Sis shot me a dirty look. Patty ignored her. 
"Good," she said, as she peeled her swimsuit clear down past her hips. "Patty!" Sis exclaimed in shock. 
"Who's going to see us?" Patty asked. "And if they do, what's going to happen? Will we get arrested for lying on our tummies with our bare backs showing?" Sis gave up arguing and slathered Patty's back with lotion. Then Patty convinced Sis to pull her suit down too, (with her back turned to me, of course) and a few minutes later, they were both on their tummies, broiling in the sun. I could have sat there all day, staring at the side of Patty's smooshed out tit, but I forgot to bring sodas, so I headed back to the parking lot to see if the concession stand had any left after the weekend. Climbing up on the ridge overlooking the cove, I took one last look to see if the girls were alright. I'm glad I did. Patty had just pulling her suit clear down till her butt crack was showing, and Sis was putting lotion on. Then Sis lay down, Patty got up and jerked Sis' suit down the same way. I heard them giggle as Patty slathered Sis up good, giving her butt a little slap when they were finished. I swear, those two are like twins. Whatever Patty does, Sis does. If Patty was to renounce the Lord, get a tattoo and become a stripper (my number one fantasy) Sis would do the same. It was only a ten minute walk back to the lake store. I sauntered in, and suddenly, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. 
"Dude!" the guy said. I turned, and it was my cousin Pete. "What's up bro?" He shook my hand like he'd been gone ten years, when it had only been a couple of months. Pete was always like that, grabbing his friends, hugging them, dragging them around. "Hanging out, you know...." I wasn't sure if I should tell him about Sis and Patty. I certainly didn't need him around to ruin this perfect day. "Where are the gals?" he asked. "I saw you drive in." "Shoot" I muttered under my breath. "Down at the cove." "The cove!" Pete slapped my back again, almost knocking the wind out of me. "Yeah, dude," he said. "I've done some heavy duty shaggin' done at the cove." Then he took me by the shoulders and gave me a big hug. "Good to see you, man. Hey, look who I found down at the feed store." Out from Pete's large shadow emerged Slim. Long lanky Slim. Slim with the nice tan and the bushy blonde hair. Slim, the one and only local who had ever made a dent in my sister's armor. Sis liked Slim. A lot. But then he left for the North Dakota oil fields and never wrote her any letters or called, and Sis got discouraged. Then Patty reminded her about how many girlfriends he had scattered all over the county, and she gave up on him completely. I just hoped seeing him today wouldn't change her mind. Ever since Lookout Rock, I felt very protective of Sis. I'd seen her vulnerable side and I certainly didn't trust Slim to have her best interests at heart. After the usual horseplay, Pete announced that we were all headed back to the cove to pop a few beers with the ladies. I grabbed some sodas, but I didn't get anything else. I had lost my appetite. My prefect day with Sis and Patty was now ruined. Now it was going to be all about Pete and Slim, and I was going to be the odd man out. The whole way back to the cove, I had to listen to Pete tell us how many rounds of ammo he could squeeze off in 60 seconds, and how many miles he could run in twenty minutes. He sounded like such a big shot, but I knew anyone could get through basic training if they tried hard enough. All you have to do is be healthy. We reached the ridge above the cove, and Pete stuck his hand out like an indian scout leading the way in an old western movie. "Holy shit!" he whispered. "Check it out!" We peeked through the bushes, and there below us, the girls were sitting up slathering lotion on their arms and legs. Patty was just finishing up her thighs, and now she was putting a dab in each tit. Then Sis did the same (didn't I tell you she does everything Patty does?), except it only took her a minute to do her little pear-sized tits, while Patty was still working on just the left one. We stood there in silence, watching. I could hear our breathing. I could hear the tiny waves lapping at the shore. It was spooky. Then the girls lay back on the blanket, and we realized they had their suits shoved clear down till their woman-hair was showing. "Oh fuck!" Pete sighed. "This is too good." He motioned for us to follow him down the path, and I kept thinking I should warn the girls somehow, like with a loud cough, or a branch breaking, but I didn't. Pete was not the type of guy you would want to get on the wrong side of. He played center on his high school football team, for crying out loud. We reached the beach, and tiptoed up behind a clump of bushes. After staring for what seemed like hours, Pete gave us a wink, and stepped forward. "Hey ladies" he said, in his radio announcer voice. The both squealed in unison, Sis curling up in the fetal position, Patty flipping over on her tummy, trying to pull the suit back up onto her springy butt. "Don't panic," Pete said, "It's just me." Patty stopped struggling with her swimsuit and looked up. "Pete?" she exclaimed, like it was Christmas and he was Santa Claus. There was a moment of recognition, and then she sat up, forgetting all about her swimsuit, and her woman-hair showing, and her naked bosoms glistening in the sun. "I thought you were at..." "I'm on leave," he said proudly, standing there staring at Patty and her oiled-up chest. Patty looked down at her body, half-heartedly trying to hide her melon-bosoms. "We were just sunning ourselves," she said, as she started tugging at her suit. "Don't get dressed on our account," Pete said, winking at me and Slim. Patty batted her eyes at him, inching her suit up her shapely body. Patty may have liked Pete, but she certainly didn't want to become known as a woman of low moral caliber, especially considering her position in the church. With her suit finally in place, she got up to give Pete a hug. Jesus, Sis and Me Pete grinned. "You remember Slim, right?" "Sure," Patty said, making the final adjustments to her swimsuit. Slim said a halfhearted hello, but he was busy checking out my sister in a way that made me want to slug him right in the mouth. Sis had her back turned, trying desperately to get her suit back on, but we could still see the jiggle of her left bosom. Finally finished with her swimsuit, Sis turned around. "Hey Slim. How's North Dakota?" "There's a lot of work up there," he said, flashing his stupid, lady-killer smile. "You could get a job making twenty bucks an hour no problem." "No thanks," she said, breaking eye contact with him. That was a relief, at least until until five seconds later when he was taking a slug of his beer with his head tipped back and his chest puffed out, and she was watching him. "Anybody else want a beer?" Pete asked. Patty grabbed one and downed it in one long series of gulps. She even let out a little burp when she was done. Pete high-fived her, which made her tits jiggle in a most unusual way, and then we all headed for the water. We weren't out there five minutes before Pete had pantsed both me and Slim, and tossed our swim suits over on the other side of the cove. Then the girls pantsed him, but I could tell he let them do it, since, just a few minutes earlier, he'd explained to us how he could take out any assailant with just one bare-handed lethal blow. They splashed around, Sis and Patty struggling to pull each other's swim suits off, and a couple of minutes later, they were naked too, tossing their suits up on the beach so they wouldn't have to go searching for them later. Then Pete challenged everybody to a race out to the island. I had to roll my eyes. It was a foregone conclusion that he would win, but we all had to play along. Like I said, you don't ever want to get on Pete's bad side. As the four of them took off, splashing and giggling, I held back, thinking what's the use? They don't need me. I'm just a nuisance, like a horsefly at a picnic. I sighed and started a lazy crawl over towards the other side of the cove to retrieve my swimsuit. When I reached the other side where the shade starts, I stopped swimming and treaded water, afraid to look at what was happening out on the island. I wondered if Sis was going to fall for Slim all over again. Christ, he'd already seen her naked, and she'd seen him naked. There wasn't much left now except for the kissing and what comes after that. I was so wrapped up in regret and jealousy, I didn't even notice the sound of the approaching swimmer. "Hey," Sis panted. 
"Hey," I said, startled by her magic presence. "How come you're not..." "Shhh," she said, holding her finger up to her mouth, "they don't know yet." Then she turned over on her back and made tiny little trails in the water with her stiff nipples. "Over here," she said, as she glided past me. I followed her to the part of the cove that's hidden from the island. The water's about five feet deep there; just enough for a person to stand up without getting a mouthful of water. I stopped, turned around, and Sis floated right up to me, wrapping her legs around my waist and grabbing my shoulders. She sat there, holding onto me, catching her breath, and I watched her buoyant bosoms bobbing just under the surface. "You're jealous, aren't you?" She asked. "Yeah," I sighed, sort of grabbing her around her butt to help hold her up. "Don't worry Bobby," she said, almost in a whisper. "I gave up on Slim a long time ago." By this time my pecker was stiff as a fence post, nudging up against her tummy. I was pretty sure she could feel it, but she didn't seem to mind. "Do you want to practice-kiss?" she asked, her face just inches from mine. I closed my eyes, and then we were kissing; her bosoms pressed against my chest, my pecker aching like it hadn't spit in weeks. The feel of our naked bodies touching, it was like nothing I had ever felt before. Suddenly, I was complete. I was a man, in the arms of a woman. In that moment, I realized my destiny was to be naked with Sis for the rest of eternity. "Feel better now?" she whispered, between kisses. I nodded. Without a word, she hitched herself higher, reached down with one hand and guided my pecker in between her legs. Then she settled back down till I could feel it slithering up between her butt cheeks. "You like?" she whispered. "Yeah," I gasped, as I felt her hips start moving slowly back and forth. Then we were kissing again. I had to say a little prayer to Jesus, asking Him to not let my pecker spit yet. I wanted this moment to last forever. That's when we heard them, Patty and Pete and Slim, swimming back to shore. My heart sank. We looked to make sure it was them, and not some kids from down by the dock. It was them. Defeated, disappointed, with my pecker aching to spit, we untangled ourselves from each other. There was an awkward silence. Sis turned to head back to the beach, but then she stopped. She swirled around and cuddled up to me one more time, jamming my pecker up against her tummy. "I love you," she whispered, "and I'll always love you, no matter what happens." Then she gave me a baby-kiss on the lips and left me standing there in the water, wishing I had just one more minute with her. A few moments later, we all had our swimsuits back on, and Patty was chugging Pete's last beer. Then we gathered up our stuff and headed back to the parking lot, Pete and Slim bragging about all their heroics in basic training, Patty and Sis tagging along behind, letting out the occasional giggle. When we got back to the parking lot, Slim asked Sis if he could call her sometime. Sis said yeah but I was pretty sure she was just being polite. Sis is like that. She doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, at least not until she has no other choice. Patty is a little more reckless. She seems to like pushing boundaries, like down at the cove pulling their swimsuits off. "Can I ride with Pete?" Patty asked, already heading for his car. "Sure," I said, glad to have Sis all to myself. "Cool," Patty said. Turning to Pete and Slim, she asked "you won't mind if I change out of my suit while you're driving, will you? I think I got sand in it." "Of course not," Pete said, slapping Slim on the back. "You won't mind, will you Slim?"

He shook his head "no" and they left. As we watched his Jeep head out of the parking lot, Sis turned to me. "Would you mind if I changed out of my suit while we're driving?" "You're kidding, right?" "No I'm not kidding," she said, flicking one shoulder strap off. "Sis!" I barked, "not here. There are people around." "What people?" she asked, flicking off her other strap. Just then we heard a car coming, so Sis put her straps back on. We climbed into the truck and she looked over at me. "You like seeing me naked, don't you?"

I could feel myself blushing. "Yeah?" "I like being naked for you," she said, pulling her shoulder straps down. "I feel like I'm being... generous... like I'm doing something good, something special for you." "I do appreciate it, Sis," I said, turning the key in the ignition. The old beast started up with a cough, and we headed out of the parking lot. I watched while she pulled her swimsuit down to her waist, and then inched her butt off the seat to pull it down her legs. "Much better," she said, opening her legs and fanning herself. She leaned her had back and looked over at me. "Do you think it's weird that we've been naked together?" "No," I said, a little confused. "I suppose Matthew 5:28 could be an issue, but you seem to be okay with it. I mean, Pete and Slim also saw you naked, so..." "Bobby," she said, as if she was insulted, "I'll have you know I stayed under water when Patty stripped my swimsuit off, and I put it back on before they swam back to the cove." "You were saving your naked for me?" Sis laughed. Then she turned serious. "There's different kinds of naked, Bobby. There's skinny dipping naked where nothing sexual is going on, and then there's sexy naked like you and me and your erection. You liked that kind of naked, didn't you?" Her smirk made me wonder if she was teasing, or being honest. I went with honest. "Yeah, I liked it, but aren't we sinning when we do that?" "I can't make up my mind about it," she said, absentmindedly twisting a lock of hair round and round on her finger. "Sometimes I love the Lord, and sometimes I loathe Him. It seems like living the perfect life would be awfully boring. What about pleasure? What about our physical needs? There has to be a balance somewhere." With that settled, or unsettled, she lay down on her back, with her head in my lap. After we had made it through the all the hairpin turns and were headed out onto the flat, she took my hand off the steering wheel and placed it on her left bosom. "Women like being touched here," she said, "especially around the nipples." Then she let out a raggedy sigh and just stared up at me like I was Jesus or something. I caressed her chest. It felt soft and pliable, not all hard and bumpy like my own chest. I played with her nipples, feeling them stiffen between my fingers. She giggled. A few minutes later, she moved my hand down to her wet spot. "Be gentle," she said. "Feel the little bump, right there at the top?" She took my finger and placed it where I could, indeed, feel a little bump down there where her woman hair thins out. "That's my clitoris. It's what makes me come. Coming is like when you make your pecker spit, but I can come all day long." "Holy cow Sis. All day long?" "Well," she grimaced, "all day long would wear me out, but I can come over and over without waiting for a recharge, if you know what I mean." "That's cool, Sis. Where did you learn all this stuff. You certainly didn't get it from Mom and Dad." "Planned Parenthood," she said, as if she was revealing a secret no one should know. "Masturbation is perfectly natural. Everyone does it. I even caught Dad doing it once. He was out in the barn, Mom was in town, and I was supposed to be picking apples, but I came back to get another crate and saw him. He didn't see me. That would have been embarrassing, but that's when I realized it was perfectly natural to be devoted to the Lord Jesus Christ and to also surrender to our physical needs." "Holy cow Sis. I had no idea." "Yep. That reminds me, I owe you one." "One what?" I said. She removed my hand from between her legs and sat up. "Pull over," she said, "and I'll show you." There was a turnout up ahead, so I cruised to a stop, right under a big cottonwood tree. Sis scooted over next to me. "Undo your pants," she said. I obliged, and then she pulled my pecker out. "I've been wanting to do this ever since Sunday at the church, but I couldn't get my nerve up." She held it loosely, slowly moving her hand up and down like she was afraid she was going to hurt me. "Oh God Sis," I moaned, "that feels so good." Already I could feel the pecker spit welling up inside me. I put my arm around her. Her face was just inches from mine, deep in concentration, just like when she was a little girl working on her coloring book. She was really good at it. She never went outside the lines. Now, stroking me slowly, precisely, she exhibited that same dedication. I couldn't have done it better myself. "Oh Sis!" I moaned, "it's getting close." Instantly, she grabbed a plastic grocery bag off the floor, shook it open, and whisked the bag over my pecker like a hat. I tensed up. I gritted my teeth. I white-knuckled the steering wheel. "Come for me baby," she whispered in my ear, and I did. My pecker spit came shooting out in long spurts, hitting the top of the bag like milk shooting from a cow's udder. "More" she said, continuing to pump. I gave her more. I pushed and pushed till it felt like I was turning inside out. "Oh Sis," I moaned, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. "That was so good. I love you. I don't ever want this to end. I want to be with you forever." "Don't worry baby," she whispered, her lips fluttering against my ear, "I'm not going anywhere. We're a team now. You and me. At least for the next two days till Mom and Dad get home." I let out a sigh of relief, suddenly feeling stupid for being so honest with Sis. Neither one of us could predict the future. All we had was the next two days. After that, it was anybody's guess. I let out a long sigh and settled back against the seat. "All finished?" she asked, as my pecker grew soft. "Yeah," I said, suddenly feeling sad that it was over so quick. I watched as she slid the bag off, tied it in a knot, and tossed it out the window. Then she lay down again, her head resting in my lap like before. "Do me now," she said, guiding my hand down between her legs. I did as she asked, my finger finding her little bump and gently rubbing it. "Go sideways" she whispered, so I did. "Lighter." I did that too. "Oh Bobby," she moaned, "that's perfect." I rubbed, she moaned, and then the hay wagon ride hit. Her whole body started vibrating, her hips bucking, her little bosoms bouncing, and it was like she couldn't catch her breath. I was worried about her, but I figured if it felt like the way I felt when my pecker spit, it was probably a good thing. Finally she settled down, and moved my finger off her bump and down into her baby chute. "Shove your finger all the way inside," she whispered. I did, and it was like impaling a piece of apple pie. Warm apple pie. I held it there for a minute, hoping I was doing it right. "One more finger Bobby. All the way in." As I slid in a second finger, the salad dressing smell hit me. In that moment I wanted to taste her, drink her up, swallow the slimy juices emanating from her baby chute. This unquenchable desire was alarming, but the whole thing with Sis was alarming, so I didn't worry about it, I just kept at my task. She took my hand and showed me how to go in and out slowly. "Like this," she said, "all the way in, all the way out." Once I had it the way she liked it, she placed her finger on her little bump and went to work on it. "It's not going to spit like yours," she said. "It's more of a slow leak." "I like it, Sis," I said, marveling at this new side to her I'd never seen before. My fingers kept moving in and out, her finger kept moving back and forth, and then the hay wagon ride hit again. "Oh Jesus," she cried, "Do it! Do it harder! Fill me up! All the way!" It was scary, watching her lose control like that, but she seemed to really need it, and it seemed to make her really happy, so I dug my fingers in deeper till I thought they would break off. "Oh Bobby!" she moaned as I pounded in and out of her baby chute, "this is the best moment of my life." "Mine too," I said, listening to the smacking sound of my fingers going in and out of her. I didn't realize it till later, but this was the moment that would stick with me. I would think about it constantly. The level of trust between us, the utter surrender, it was beyond love, it was the two of us acting as one being, one entity more powerful than God Himself. Finally, after maybe 20 minutes of on-again, off-again hay wagon rides, Sis had had enough. Good thing too, cause my hand was starting to cramp. She sat up groggily and grabbed the last Coke from the floor of the truck. "Thirsty?" she asked, after taking a long drink. She handed me the can and I took a sip. "We should probably get back huh?" I asked, pretending not to stare at her naked body. Now that she was sitting up, her bosoms looked a lot nicer, not all flat like a pancake when she was lying on her back. "First shower!" she cried out, and it reminded me of how she'd always say that when we were finished with tossing the baseball around. "Sure thing, Sis," I said, watching while she climbed back into her cutoffs. I did the same, and then started up the truck and pulled out onto the road, thinking about what we'd done. It seemed so natural, so intimate, so perfect. How could it be wrong? It was a quiet ride back to town with Sis dozing against the passenger door. I had to wake her before we made it to the gas station at the crossroads so she could put her shirt back on. Looking at me groggily, she asked: "I wasn't going to tell you but... Um... I've been taking birth control pills for the last couple of months. "What!" I gasped, the fear of Jesus suddenly hanging over me like the Sword of Damocles. "Relax. I get them at Planned Parenthood to make my monthly cycle less severe." "Well..." I pondered, "I guess that's not going to get you into any trouble with the Lord." "The Lord this, the Lord that, I'm sick of it Bobby. I'm a woman now, and I don't need to pray for Jesus' approval. I can do whatever I want and so can you." "I trust you Sis," I said, nor really sure if I did. "I just hope you're not going down the wrong road with your life." She thought for a minute. "Do you want to take back what we did today?" "I guess not," I admitted. "So here's the deal," she said, looking at me like Mom when she's showing us a particularly hard math problem during home-schooling hour. "We've pretty much mastered practice-kissing and the other things. I think it's time we moved on to practice baby-making." "What?" I gasped. "I'm on the pill, Mom and Dad are away for two more nights..." She waited for my reaction, but I hadn't figured it out yet. Being with her that way was exactly what I wanted, but I was scared to admit it. Then I realized I was already in over my head. Sis had me wrapped around her little finger, and I think she knew it. She took my hand. "Well?" she asked. "Okay Sis, but if we both get struck by lightning, it's your fault." She slid over and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I figured if I did get struck by lighting, at least I'd die happy. Driving home, I was floating on air. Sis and I had finally gotten real with each other. We'd overcome God's wrath and discovered God's love worked best when we were naked together. All I could think about now was my pecker inside her, making that same smacking sound my fingers had made when I was making her come. I could hardly wait to get home so we could finish what we'd started, but when I pulled into our driveway, my heart sank. Mom and Dad were back. Two days early. "Oh crap!" Sis moaned, "now we can't have baby-making practice. I so wanted to do that. What if we turn around and go down to the river for a little while? "They've already seen us," I said. I could see Mom, silhouetted behind the screen door, watching us pull in. "What about tomorrow in the tack shed?" she asked, checking to make sure all her buttons and snaps were in order.

I thought about it. Tomorrow in the tack shed would have been better than nothing, but I wanted our first time to be perfect, like a wedding night. "What about waiting a day or two till we can have a bed and a bathroom?" "Bingo," she said, pointing her finger at me like a gun. "That would be better. Okay, I can wait that long." "Will you wear white for me, Sis?" "Of course, Bobby." Then she took my hand and kissed it, down below the dashboard so Mom couldn't see. The next couple of days were hectic. Dad had had a minor stroke, and the mood around the house changed drastically. I was convinced Dad's stroke was God punishing us for what Sis and I had done, but Sis said that was stupid. Dad didn't eat right and that's why he had a stroke. God had nothing to do with it. Even so, Sis and I fell back into our old roles of brother and sister. She did bring a plastic bag into my bedroom a couple of times to make me come, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it, especially when she let me touch her inside her panties, but then said she was too distracted for anything to happen. Jesus, Sis and Me In the midst of all this, Slim called -- several times -- and Sis ended up going out on a date with him. I knew it wasn't my place to get jealous, but I noticed she had a plastic grocery bag in her back pocket when she left, and it was gone when she returned. I didn't say anything, but it broke my heart. ***** There's not much left to tell about Sis and I, and God has left the building, so I'm closing this out for now. If she ever decides to break it off with Slim and practice making babies with me, I'll update my journal. Until then, I just take it one day at a time, because that's all we can do, isn't it? The one thing I've learned from this adventure is the power of love. I understand now why men fight for love, and die for love, and I know the torture of doing nothing and watching love slip away. It's a slow death, a death that leaves you alive, but empty as a bird's nest after they've all flown away. Curious about whatever became of Bobby and Sis, I went through the photographs one more time. In one picture, a young lady and a tall, gangly guy with a crop of blond hair are standing by the Golden Gate Bridge. I took them to be Sis and Slim. In another, there's a young man in military cammo gear in what looks to be a desert in the Middle East. I took that to be Bobby, especially in light of the other items in the box. Buried under the baseball mitts and the notebook was a pair of military dog tags with the name Blunt, Robert. There was also a wadded up piece of paper. I was going to throw it in the trash, but something told me it might be important. Opening it carefully, I discovered it was Bobby's death notice from the US Army.