The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website at: http://pw1.netcom.com/~mrdouble/main/stories.html), please contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.









From 1 Fri Apr 05 21:20:34 1996
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From: lliillii@aol.com (LlIIllII)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest
Subject: Johnny's Closet, Part 6
Date: 3 Apr 1996 21:02:11 -0500
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   DO not read this if you are under 18 years of age or if you are
offended by material of a sexual or possibly incestuous nature.


Here is the end of Part 5, as a reminder …


   Just as we got to the sidewalk, out of the van stepped a long-legged
drop-dead blonde, about 40 I would guess, wearing a mini-skirt that was
almost no skirt at all, and a T-shirt that, like Marie’s, left nothing to
the imagination. About a 40D, I guessed. "Lucky husband," I whispered to
Marie, and we strained to look as the guy got out of the driver’s seat.
    My jaw dropped. It wasn’t her husband, that’s for sure. Son, maybe,
but definitely not husband. This kid was 16 at most. He went to the back
of the van, picked up two pieces of luggage and headed for the stairs.
   "OK, mom," he said. "Open the door … these are heavy!"
   The went into the room next to ours!
   I looked at Marie. "Holy shit," I said. "Do you think they’re fucking?"
   "Why do you say that?" she asked. "Many moms travel with their sons."
   "Yes," I said. "But do you remember what we saw when we looked into
that room?"
   "No," she said. "What?"
   "A bed, that’s what. ONE bed! They ARE sleeping together! This is going
to be a great night."

    We went back to our room and planned the evening. We’d turn out the
light in our room and watch the mom and son as long as we could. Then,
when it got dark, we’d take turns "strolling" along the back of the motel,
waiting for a chance to watch the couples. If we were lucky, we could peek
and masturbate together either in the room or down in the back as we
watched.

   "I can’t want to see that huge lady," I said.
   "I can’t want to see that fat man fuck his skinny bride," Marie said.
   And, practically in unison, we both said: "And I can’t want to watch
that lucky kid fuck his mom’s brains out!"

 And now … 
Johnny’s Closet, Part 6

    As my sister Marie and I walked back to our motel to spy on the mother
and son in the next room, I started to reminisce about how we both had
gotten to this stage of our lives. 
   After growing up together in the same house and experimenting regularly
with sex and voyeurism, we decided never to separate. After college, we
moved into the same apartment house and did everything together — from
attending movies to going on vacations and, of course, having our own
particular brand of sex. If you’ve read about our early teen years, you
know what we like best: mutually masturbating each other while secretly
watching other people.
    By the time we had moved out of the large Victorian house we grew up
in with our mother and older sister Barbara, we had peppered the walls,
ceilings and floors with enough tiny spy hole so we would watch virtually
anything anywhere.
   Of course, what we ended up watching the most was the great sex that
our mom had with our sister. After dad left, mom admitted — at least to
the girls — that it was because she was a lesbian and couldn’t give him
the kind of love he craved. It was at that point that Barbara admitted
that she, too, was a lesbian. And the two started making each other cum
regularly almost immediately. As a horny 14-year-old, I figured out many
ways to watch. Marie also liked to watch, and that’s how we started our
special relationship.
   Marie and I, of course,  preferred opposite-sex fun. Still, we got many
jollies watching the two older gals suck, finger, eat and otherwise grope
each other. While we peeped we’d both masturbate. I’d watch mom and
Barbara and jerk off. Marie would watch me jerk off watching them, and
she’d finger her own hole to orgasm. And I’d watch her fingering and
rubbing her hole and I’d cum again. It was the best imaginable "vicious
circle!" 
   Sometimes — my favorite times — Marie simply would jerk me off while I
peeked at mom and Barb. That was nice because I could concentrate on
watching their incredible tits through the hole in the bathroom wall
without having to keep moving my hand!
     Marie and I had pretty much decided to live our lives as husband and
wife. We truly loved each other and were only two years apart in age, me
being the older.
   
   So, now, 15 years later, we were in a motel looking through the crack
we had made in the door frame that led to the adjoining room. We had seen
a 40ish knockout blonde and her teenage son go into the room, and from our
earlier peeking we knew the room had only one bed. 
   Sure enough, within a minute after the two of them slammed their door
shut, mom had stripped to bra and panties and sonny boy was in his briefs.
I had placed a chair in front of the crack in the door frame and was
sitting sideways in it, eyes glued to the bed that was only about 10 feet
away.
    Naked, I spread my legs so Marie could get a good hold on my cock,
which already was dripping.
   Marie, also naked, spit on her right hand and slowly started to jerk me
off. We had learned each others moaning signals well. She knew exactly
when I wanted her to speed up or slow down, or when she should stop cold
or go for the gold. We could make this last two minutes or two hours.
   It was clear that the mom and son were not new to fucking around. I
surmised that this was like so many other instances: A horny broad left
lonely by divorce or widowhood at just the time her son was starting to
fantasize about sex. In most families, this kind of mother-son lust
remains in the dream world. But in some lucky instances, one of the two
takes a bold step.
   Sometimes, it’s accidental: Mother walks in on son as he is
masturbating, or son accidentally does the same to mom. 
   Other times it’s planned. Son lies in wait for his mother to step out
of the shower. Or for her to take the vibrator out of her secret drawer.
And then he walks in, erection long and hard, and the two just do the
inevitable.
   I had no way of knowing this couple’s exact story, but that really
didn’t matter. I had a front-row seat and wasn’t complaining.
    I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were standing in front
of the bed and he was shouting. I thought it was a little strange, all
that yelling. She actually looked a bit scared.
 He was rubbing his crotch, working on making that cock harder than it
already was. Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders and twisted her around,
going for her bra hooks. He struggled with them for a second and then,
hitting paydirt, threw the undergarment violently onto the floor, out of
my line of sight.
    He then grabbed her giant tits and started to squeeze them violently,
first one, then the other, in a milking motion. After about 10 seconds, he
put his hands on the elastic of her panties and ripped them down below her
knees. Whatever game they were playing, and I was sure it must be a game,
he was the aggressor.
    In a second, it was clear that they were, indeed, role playing. I
couldn’t know what was in their minds, so I made up a story in my own: He
was her son and had always wanted to fuck her but never had  acted on it
until now. In one violent moment, he turned from obedient youth to
unstoppable motherfucker. She was overpowered and had no choice.
    He shouted something, pointed to his crotch and pulled his briefs
down. My God, his cock was enormous! It’s difficult to tell, but I would
guess it was at least nine inches, circumcised and throbbing, almost
purple.
    He shouted something else and pointed again, this time to the head of
his dick. It sounded like he said, "Now, mommy, now," but angrily, not
nicely.
    She dropped to her knees and started sucking him, her head rocking
forward and backward like a piston. She grabbed the cheeks of his ass for
stabililty, and I watched as her freckled tits swayed from side to side,
their dark red nipples beginning to wrinkle and point. In a second, the
two of them clearly had run out of patience with the game-playing and
simply wanted to continue with the sex. No more shouting, no more
pointing. They knew what they liked and they were determined to get on
with it.
    The kid pushed his mom’s head off his dick, which now seemed at least
an inch longer before, and thicker, too. I have about six inches, and
while it’s served me well, I frankly was a little jealous of the lad. 
    He stood her up and walked her to the bed and lay down on his back.
She quickly climbed on top of him, her buttocks facing me. She reached
down and guided his cock into her cunt hole, which was so wet there was
virtually no resistance.
    As she rode him — furiously from the start — I wondered if my mom
would have been that good a fuck. It was something I had fantasized about
and talked to Marie about endlessly, but I never had approached either mom
or Barb for sex, more out of respect for their orientation than for the
fact that we were blood.
   After all, Marie was blood and we had the greatest sex life together I
could ever imagine.
    As I was watching the Incest Show of Shows next door, Marie continued
to jerk, adding a coy suck every 10 or so strokes. 
   "Looks like the kid is about to cum," I whispered to Marie as the
couple’s pace quickened. "I’d love to cum along with him."
    Marie started closing her lips over the shaft of my cock at exactly
the right intervals. After only six or seven of her long, sucking strokes
I started  creaming into her mouth. At exactly the same moment, I heard a
bellow from the 10-Inch Kid. He raised his hips about a foot, thrusting
his mom high into the air. She shuddered, too. The three of us had cum at
the same time!
    "Quick," Marie begged, "let me look while you do me."
    I stood up and let her take my place, allowing her to watch laddie and
his mum bask in the afterglow of a hot, incestuous fuck.
    I pushed my face into Marie’s light blond bush, first taking a long
breath in through my nose to smell her delightful scent. God I loved that
odor; probably could cum again just sticking my nose deep in her and
breathing in and out.
    I started rubbing her firm clit with the tip of my nose as I let my
tongue work its way into her pussy. Then I moved my whole face in a
circular motion, so her clit, pussy and inner cheeks all got the same
pressure.
    She moaned softly and rotated her hips slightly to let me know I was
right on target.
    "They’re just lying there naked, not moving," she said. 
    "That won’t last." I predicted, knowing that If I were next to a piece
of ass like that kid’s mom, I’d go for two or three fucks at least.
   "I don’t want to wait," Marie said. "I’m going to stare at his dick
now. Make me go over the edge …"
    I quickened my motion and raised my chin slightly, leaving just enough
room for me to slip three fingers into her widening pussy. The two
separate actions — nose and tongue rotating against her crotch and my
fingers jerking in and out —  
did the trick. A few drops of pee dribbled out onto my lips, as always
when Marie came.
   "Thanks," she said, and just sat motionless watching the kids dick and
showing a tiny smile.
    I licked the saltiness with my lips and, swallowing the tiny droplets,
walked over to the drapes to peek out.
   "It’s dark now," I said. "We have to make a decision. Do we watch these
two some more, or do we go out and look in on our friends downstairs?"
    In the room directly below us were a newlywed couple — a 300-pound guy
and his skinny but large-breasted wife. I longed to see how they managed
to hide the salami. And next to him were two people in their sixties, but
in this pair she was the huge one. In fact, I never had seen breasts as
large as hers — not even in porno films. They virtually reached to her
knees! I didn’t care how old she was, I wanted to see those tits in the
flesh.
    You’ll remember that Marie and I had gotten access to those two rooms
earlier in the day and had "fixed" the blinds so we’d be able to see in
the back windows.
    "I don’t want to move," Marie said. "That was so good."
    "Well," I joked, "you must have  been real horny. After all, you came
in the car only three times today."
   It was true, actually. Marie needed at least 10 orgasms to feel
fulfilled. She was up to four now. It was going to be a long night.
   "OK," she said. "Go down and see if there’s any action. If you’re not
up in five minutes, I’ll join you."
    I pulled on my pants and T-shirt and slipped into my sneaks.
Everything in our evening wardrobes, even the shoes, were black, to lessen
the chances we’d be spotted.
    I opened the front door and slowly walked down the stairs, so anyone
who happened to be watching wouldn’t know I was a man on a mission.
    I stood by the car for a moment, letting my eyes get accustomed to the
dark. I scanned the parking lot. No one was out there.
    I worked my way to the side of the motel section and then into the
back strip, which was protected by high bushes and completely unlit.
Motels routinely are set up like that — high bushes and no lighting — to
insure that no excess light, either from fixtures or passing cars — shines
into the patrons’ bedroom windows. Little did they realize that this kind
of landscaping is a voyeur’s dream. 
    Ceiling lights were on in both rooms. I knelt down and looked into the
first through the half-inch-or-so slit that the venetian blind allowed. 
Holy shit! The tubbo was standing in the middle of the room, totally naked
and licking the asshole of his wife, who was on all fours, doggie style,
on the bed. Preparing her shit hole for his dick, I said to myself. I
squinted to see that dick and realized why they chose this form of
fucking. It was the smallest erection I had ever seen— certainly no more
than three inches! 
   Anal sex was clearly the only way he could get into her with that huge
belly and short cock of his. 
   But then I noticed something that almost made me fall over. While she
had really nice tits, when I looked across to check out her pussy I saw —
are you sitting down?— a … a … DICK!
    IT WAS A FUCKIN’ GUY! Or at least a half-guy. Tits and a dick. What
the fuck was going on here?
    And where the fuck was Marie! She HAD to see this!
   I quickly made for the second room, where the old folks were staying.
Again, I got a real eyeful, although nothing could have been more
surprising than room number one. My wish to see the old woman’s enormous
breasts was being  granted. There she was, sitting at a dressing table,
completely naked and combing her hair. Her husband was standing next to
her, watching her and, as if it was no big deal, masturbating.
    His eyes — like mine — were glued to those massive mammaries. She
looked like she wasn’t even paying attention to him, and after about 15
seconds I realized she probably wasn’t. This must be how a guy his age has
sex, I thought. Too tired to fuck, but enough energy to watch his wife’s
boobs rest on her legs as she sat and prepared for bed. They’d probably
done this for years, so it was no big deal to her.
    His cock was about a sixer, too, but even in erection seemed a little
soft. Still, he had that blank-stare smile on his face that I knew so
well, for having had it so much myself. The old guy was in jerk-off
heaven.
    "Where the fuck is Marie," I said again, this time out loud.
    Her hand on my shoulder almost made me scream.
    "Did you see…" I started to ask.
   "I’ve already seen the guys-and-a-half ass fucking," she whispered.
"What’s going on here?"
    What a pro she is. Takes everything in stride!.
    "The old guy is staring at his wife’s tits and jerking off," I
whispered. "Take a look."
    I moved back to the first window, and, sure enough, Giganto and His
Half Man were very into the ass thing. The folds on his enormous stomach
rolled up and down as he pumped his tiny tyke into the man-girl’s asshole.
It slipped out about every three strokes, and I had to cover my mouth not
to laugh.
   The wife — if that’s truly what she was —  had really nice tits, a 36C
I’d guess, and they flapped back and forth as Big Boy pumped.
    I had watched same-sex couples before. Mom and Barb, many times, of
course. But guys, too, at parties and on videotape. As I’ve said before,
I’m not gay, but I will admit to getting turned on a bit by watching two
guys really get into each other. After all, a cum is a cum is a cum no
matter how you shoot it.
    But to watch El Lardo and his Half-n-Half lover pumping away, and
seeing his mate’s tits AND dick swinging back and forth, I have to say I
didn’t know what to think, how to feel … or where to stare!
    I looked over at Marie. She was watching the old guy masturbate and
apparently it was turning her on! She was rubbing away at her slit  so
fast I thought she’d she’d start a brush fire (or should I say "bush"
fire?).
    I got bored with the Mr. & Mr. & Mrs. Show and joined Marie at room
number two. There wasn’t enough room for us to watch the retirement show
at the same time, so I let her continue. After all, she needed about six
more orgasms, I had only one or two left in me.
   "I’m going up to check out Mom and the Boy Wonder," I whispered.
   "I’ll come with you," she said with a shudder, indicating that she had,
literally, cum again.
   We got back upstairs just in time to see the Lady and her Tramp fall
over again on the bed, fresh from another success.
   "We missed the Second Coming," I joked.
   "Fuck ‘em," Marie said. "Let’s just do it now and forget the others. I
really want you."
    Now if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that Marie and I
prefer masturbating, but I never said that’s all we do. This was going to
be one of the times when a helping hand wasn’t enough. Marie wanted to
fuck, and when Marie wants to fuck, Marie fucks.
    I won’t bore you with the details … just a quick list … and let you
know that our session lasted an hour and a half! Sucking … 10 minutes …
Sixty-nine … 20 minutes … fingering each other’s asses … 10 minutes … anal
fucking … 10 minutes (and a whole jar of Vaseline) … heavenly girl-on-top
pussy fucking … 20 minutes … and, finally, 20 glorious minutes in the
shower, washing each other, peeing on each other and washing again.
    We collapsed on the bed at midnight and slept through to 8 in the
morning, except for about five minutes sometime during the night when
mamma’s boy started moaning loudly. I was too damn tired to go see why.


Want Part 7? Only if you tell me something sexy that you’ve done!


From 1 Fri Apr 05 21:20:38 1996
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From: lliillii@aol.com (LlIIllII)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest
Subject: Johnny's Closet, Part 5
Date: 3 Apr 1996 21:12:30 -0500
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
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DO not read this if you are under 18 years of age or if you are offended
by material of a sexual or possibly incestuous nature.

                                          Foreword to Part V
 
   Part IV ended with my 12-year-old sister, Marie, and I preparing to
watch, through a peephole in our bathroom, the 25 women who mom invited
over for a lingerie-buying party. Marie and I, although brother and sister
(I’m 14) consider ourselves "lovers." We masturbate together and love to
peek at people in our bathroom. Mom and our older sister, Barbara, are
lesbians and have a relationship much like mine and Marie’s. They
masturbate together, but they don’t know that we watch them.
    I’m going to skip ahead a few years for part V. We’ll get back to the
lingerie party in a later chapter. In this part, Marie and I are now 10
years older. She’s 22 and I am 24. We’ve been "lovers" all that time,
feeding on each other’s joy of cumming and of peeking at others. We have
been inseparable for a decade. I went to a local college so I could live
at home, and Marie chose the same school. When I was 20 and she was 18, I
moved to an apartment and she moved into a smaller unit in the same
building. We still masturbate together every chance we get, and have
experimented a few times with actual fucking. But we like peeking so much
that we’ve perfected ways to watch other people, and we masturbate each
other while we watch strangers and friends. We also videotape a lot, and
masturbate while we watch the tapes. I’ve reserved Part V to explain some
of our techniques:

                                          Johnny’s Closet, Part V

   The more I think about the past 10 years, the more I believe that I
have lead a charmed life. It’s every kid’s fantasy to catch a brief
glimpse of some beautiful girl undressing. But since age 14 I have been
able to peek at almost anyone I wanted to. I’ve done it by employing
intelligent plans and also with the help of my wonderful sister and lover,
Marie. 
    Let me give you just one example. 
   As you know if you’ve been following my story, Marie and I started
masturbating together when I was 14 ands she was 12. Over the years we’ve
continued. I don’t think a day has gone by when we haven’t each helped
each other have at least two orgasms. Even when Marie has her period, she
likes to cum at least twice a day, and I don’t mind helping her. I see her
blood not as anything gross but rather as a love liquid, warm and sweet.
    We live in the same apartment building in a New Jersey suburb, and we
do everything together. We’re both out of college now. I work in an
electronics supply store selling top-of-the-line stereos, TV sets and the
like, and Marie is an assistant managers at a suburban mall national brand
lingerie store. I won’t tell you the name; it’s a, um, Secret (ha ha).
   I’m going to tell you about one of the capers we’ve performed over the
past year, so you can get an idea of what our lives have been like.
   As I said, we’ve figured out ways to see anything we want, to watch
anyone we want to, secretly. And while we watch we masturbate together,
unless it’s in a place where we’d be caught. In those cases we make tape
recordings and watch them in my apartment, masturbating each other while
the tape runs.
   Neither of us has had a steady boyfriend or girlfriend since we started
being lovers. We didn’t need to. Oh, sure, I dated, and so did Marie, but
only so that we could secretly tape our temporary beaus. Once we got what
we wanted on tape, we moved on to another "friend." Our tape library
consists of hundreds of secretly made fuck and suck sessions, and we even
have our boy and girlfriends alone, masturbating when they thought no one
was around.
   Let me tell you about what we do on vacations. 
   Vacations are wonderful for peeking, and, with some planning, for
videotaping, too. We’ve really got it down to a science. I don’t want you
to think I’m suggesting that YOU do what we have done. Understand that if
you try this and get caught, it’s on YOU. I’m just telling you about our
experiences.
    Last fall, Marie and I want to New Hampshire for a week, during the
beautiful fall foliage season. It’s a time when a lot of couples vacation
there, some with kids, some just with each other. We are equal-opportunity
peekers: We don’t care if we’re looking in on a single guy or gal or a
couple or a family with kids. We do stay away from people with dogs,
though, because those animals have a sixth sense that makes them bark when
we’re looking in.
    Here’s a technique we perfected last fall. Marie and I checked out a
series of motels. The one we choose have to have certain qualities. What
we looked for are motels that had a long row of windows in the back. We
make sure that this back area is unlit and easy to walk through
undetected. 
   But that’s not all. We also make sure that they have at least one of
two other things: Either venetian blinds or in-window air conditioners. 
   When we find a motel that meets those requirements, we drive up to the
office and register as husband and wife. But we ask for a specific kind of
room. We ask for adjoining rooms on the first floor. We tell the clerk
that we‘re going to be in one of the rooms, and that some friends — who
should be arriving soon — will be in the other. And need it on the first
floor, we say, because the wife in the other couple is handicapped and
can’t climb stairs.
   We pay for both rooms and then go to them. Once we get inside, we start
looking around. If the two rooms have venetian blinds, we go to each blind
and put a small rip in the cotton strap that supports the bottom slat of
the blind. That causes that slat to lie about a half-inch too low, so that
when the blind is closed, there’s enough of a gap to see into the room
from the outside — but not enough of a gap for anyone inside the room to
notice.
    Then we look for an in-window air conditioner. You know, the kind that
has accordion-fold flaps on the side that expand to make the unit fit
snugly. If there is one of  those in the room,  we take a sharp pen-knife
and cut a small slit in one of the folds. Again, we make a hole large
enough to see into the room, but not so large that it would be noticed by
anyone inside the room.
   After about an hour, we go back to the office and act very apologetic.
We explain that we called our friends and found out that they had to
cancel. The wife had fallen, we say, and broken her ankle, ruining their
whole vacation.
   We explain to the clerk that not only don’t we need the second room …
we also would actually prefer to be on the second floor, where it’s
quieter. Would it be too terrible to change room, we ask. And since we’ve
already taken our luggage out of the car, would it be OK if the room was
near the original two, like maybe above one of them?
    Most times, this is no problem. We get keys to the new room, move our
stuff and turn in the original keys.
   And then we wait, hoping that someone interesting will be assigned to
those two first-floor rooms.
   If we’re also lucky enough to have a room on the second floor that
adjoins to another room, and if there’s no one in it yet, we see if the
doors separating the rooms can somehow be adapted to peeping. Sometimes we
luck out, sometimes we don’t. When we do, it’s a bonus. We get to look
through a keyhole or tiny self-made hole in that door, or we spread the
molding a little to make it possible to see through a crack.
   All of this works, of course, only in older places. The new motels are
all concrete block and heavy fiberboard doors. But the older ones are
perfect, with old wooden-paneled doors that can easily be compromised.
   This particular night we were incredibly lucky. Going into the corner
room downstairs we saw was a man and woman in their 30s. He was really fat
— looked like more than 300 pounds! She was the opposite: tall and skinny
but with decent boobs, about 36C, I guessed. They were an odd couple, but
we couldn’t wait to see what they’d do after dark.
   In the room next to them was an older couple — but we’ve found that
sometimes they’re more fun to watch than young people. More creative, if
you know what I mean. These two were in their 60s. She was the huge one
this time, short — about five feet — and with absolutely enormous breasts.
It seemed, as we looked out our window and watched them walk inside from
the parking lot, that her boobs hung down to her knees! 
   "Gosh," I said to Marie, who was already rubbing her pussy, "I can’t
wait to see those!" 
   The guy was normal looking, about 6 feet tall and with a grey goatee.
   "I guess he’s a tit man," Marie joked.
   "I sure hope so," I said. That lady is three-quarters tit!"
    It was about 4 p.m. Most of the motel patrons would be eating in the
dining room attached to the place, we figured, because there wasn’t
anything else on the highway for miles. Marie and I planned to eat at
about 5, then go back to the room and wait for dark.
    No one had moved into the room next to ours yet, so we just waited to
see what would happen there. The crack we had made in the door molding
gave us a perfect view of the bed in that room. We hoped for the best.
   We had about a half-hour until dinner.
   "Make me cum," Marie said, out of the blue. 
   "Why should I?" I joked.
   "Cause I’m horny as hell, asshole, and I can cum as many times a day as
I want."
   She always rubbed that in. My record was only four, and I liked to save
my orgasms for crucial peeking sessions.
   "OK, spread ‘em, lady," I said mimicking a TV cop.
   Marie laughed and bounced onto the king-sized bed, pulling down her
shorts and underpants in one clean motion, almost in mid-air.
   I dove into her perfumed muff and started to kiss her deeply. I pressed
my nose into her slit and took a huge breathe. "God, you smell delicious,"
I said.
   I continued to kiss and suck her until her clit started to harden. Then
I gripped it gently with my teeth and started flicking it with my tongue.
   "Put your fingers in, too," she said. Marie had loved that ever since
we were kids. My teeth and tongue on her clit, my fingers, at least two or
three of them, deep in her moist pussy. Lately we had added a long middle
finger up her asshole. 
   We lay there for about 10 minutes, me slurping and fingering away,
Marie moaning softly at first and then more loudly. I could tell she was
about to blow.
   "Ohhhhhhh, God!" she yelled. "God, I love you, Michael."
   She squirted that little squirt of pee that always comes out when she
has an orgasm. As usual, it landed on my lips and rolled down my cheek. I
stuck my tongue deep inside her again and licked her clean. I had grown to
love the smell and taste and touch of her pee, just as she had become
accustomed to the heady flavor of my cum. We really were in love, Marie
and I. I wondered if this was going to be a lifelong commitment. I really
wanted it to be.
    Her whole body seemed to go limp. 
   "Let’s skip dinner," she said. "I just want to lie here forever."
   We heard a door slam in the room below us. I jumped up and looked out
the window.
   "It’s the fat guy and his stringbean wife," I said. It looks like
they’re going to dinner. Let’s get a table near them."
   We loved to talk to the people were planned to peek at. It added
something to the excitement. Marie slowly got up and threw on a T-shirt
and shorts. 
   "Shit. OK, let’s go. You’re right. We’ll get friendly with them."
   Marie’s beautiful nipples were rock-hard, and you could see the points
through her shirt. There even was a hint of the darkness showing through.
   "I’ll bet you give the fat guy a hard-on," I said.
   "Let’s see, lover!" Marie said, and we bounded out to the restaurant.

   We wangled a table right next to the couple, smiled and said hello. A
little small talk later and we learned that they were from New York City,
where he was a stock broker and she was an artist. They had been married
the day before, had spent their honeymoon at a snazzy New York hotel and
then driven up here for the scenery.
   They had no idea that within an hour or two THEY would be OUR scenery!
   I spent the whole meal wondering what he would look like fucking her.
Marie obviously was thinking about the same thing. I could see her right
hand, hidden by the tablecloth, gently rubbing her pussy as she stared at
the guy’s crotch to see if her nipples had given him a hard-on. It was
impossible to tell, but it was fun to think about.
    About halfway through the meal the second couple came in — the old
folks. The hostess tried to seat them at a booth, but this woman’s chest
was so huge she couldn’t fit in the seat. Embarrassed, they asked to move,
and the hostess put them at a table, where the women could move her chair
back a foot and sit comfortably. I tell you, I have never, ever, seen
breasts this huge. I began to dribble into my shorts thinking about what
her nipples must look like. Marie saw me redden and just smiled.
   We finished eating and, as the waiter was bringing our check we noticed
a van pull up to the section of the motel where our room was. We couldn’t
make out who was inside, but we said goodnight to the fat guy and his
bride, left the money on our table, and rushed out, hoping to see who was
in the van.
   Just as we got to the sidewalk, out of the van stepped a long-legged
drop-dead blonde, about 40 I would guess, wearing a mini-skirt that was
almost no skirt at all, and a T-shirt that, like Marie’s, left nothing to
the imagination. About a 40D, I guessed. "Lucky husband," I whispered to
Marie, and we strained to look as the guy got out of the driver’s seat.
    My jaw dropped. It wasn’t her husband, that’s for sure. Son, maybe,
but definitely not husband. This kid was 16 at most. He went to the back
of the van, picked up two pieces of luggage and headed for the stairs.
   "OK, mom," he said. "Open the door … these are heavy!"
   The went into the room next to ours!
   I looked at Marie. "Holy shit," I said. "Do you think they’re fucking?"
   "Why do you say that?" she asked. "Many moms travel with their sons."
   "Yes," I said. "But do you remember what we saw when we looked into
that room?"
   "No," she said. "What?"
   "A bed, that’s what. ONE bed! They ARE sleeping together! This is going
to be a great night."

    We went back to our room and planned the evening. We’d turn out the
light in our room and watch the mom and son as long as we could. Then,
when it got dark, we’d take turns "strolling" along the back of the motel,
waiting for a chance to watch the couples. If we were lucky, we could peek
and masturbate together either in the room or down in the back as we
watched.

   "I can’t want to see that huge lady," I said.
   "I can’t want to see that fat man fuck his skinny bride," Marie said.
   And, practically in unison, we both said: "And I can’t want to watch
that lucky kid fuck his mom’s brains out!"

   Look for Johnny’s Closet, Part 6, in a day or two!

   And let me know if you like this stuff!


From 1 Fri Apr 05 21:20:42 1996
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From: lliillii@aol.com (LlIIllII)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest
Subject: Johnny's Closet, Part 4
Date: 3 Apr 1996 21:12:36 -0500
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   DO not read this if you are under 18 years of age or if you are
offended by material of a sexual or possibly incestuous nature.

                                          Foreword to Part IV

   I cannot believe all the kind things many of you have had to say about
my first attempt at writing. Thanks to your encouragement, I foresee many
more postings.
   I also appreciate your suggestions for future installments of "Johnny’s
Closet," but, sorry to say, I cannot take them. The reason: While written
in a fictional style, "Johnny’s Closet" is largely based on actual
happenings. As a result, I can’t weave your many suggestions into the
story.
   I truly believe that anyone can write a "sexy" story by fabricating it.
The problem is that the reader knows none of  what’s being written
actually happened. That makes it far less stimulating — at least in my
mind. "Johnny’s Closet" actually happened and — as you will see as it
progresses — continues to some extent today.
   I hope knowing that you are reading fact, not fiction, increases your
enjoyment of the story.
   And now: a reminder of where we left off, and then, Part IV or our
tale.


 The end of Part III:

 "Tomorrow is mom’s home show," Marie said. "She’s setting it up tonight.
   "Oh, you mean the party she’s giving to sell cookware?" I asked.
   "Cookware?" Marie said. "Who ever said it was cookware? She’s giving a
lingerie party for all her friends. There’ll be about 25 of her
girlfriends here, trying on bras and panties and all kinds of gross
things."
 "What?" I asked. "Trying them on where?"
   "Well, when I went with mom next door to Cherry’s for a planning
meeting, they said they’d all sit in the living room and go up to the
bathroom one by one to put on the stuff and then come down to model it."
   Our faces brightened at the same time. Tomorrow evening I’d lock myself
in my room … to study, of course. I told Marie that and we laughed.
   Marie and I left for school that morning knowing that when we returned
in the afternoon we’d help each other cum again. And we knew that then
we’d take turns watching the neighbors and mom’s other friends undressing.
I made a mental list of the tits I’d be seeing … all of those wonderful
ladies that I’ve dreamed about when they visited mom in the past. I’d get
to see 25 pairs of knockers in one evening. What could be better than
that, I asked myself.
   But that evening Marie would tell me something that’d make my future
even brighter. Something about mom and Barbara. Something that would
change our lives.

                                          Johnny’s Closet, Part IV

   I don’t know how I got through school the next day. I didn’t hear a
word any teacher said, and I’m sure I failed my science test miserably.
But eventually last period ended and I found myself racing home.
   By 4:30 I was lying in bed, naked, with Marie at my side, also with
nothing on. Mom and Barbara wouldn’t be home for about an hour and a half;
mom worked till 5:30 and never got home before 6, and Barb has
cheerleading practice most evenings until the same time. That means Marie
and I had 90 minutes to play.
   She started stroking my cock, which had already begin to dribble at the
thought of what was about to happen. I was staring at her beautiful little
breasts and dark red nipples. She was rubbing me with one hand and herself
with the other.
   But somehow her mind seemed elsewhere.
   "God, this is great, Marie," I said.
   "Yeah, she said, and hesitated a second. "Johnny, can I ask you
something?"
   "Sure."
   "Will we be able to do this forever?"
   "What do you mean?" I asked. "Mom and Barb get home in about an hour."
   "No," she said. "I don’t mean forever without stopping, I mean for all
of our lives. I know I’m just a kid, but I’ve been thinking about sex for
a long time, and when I started watching you through the hole in the wall
— watching you jerk off and all — I sort of fell in love with your cock. I
hope we never have to stop this. I know my tits aren’t as big as mom’s, or
Barb’s, but they will be soon, I promise. They really will."
   It was a strange moment. Marie, barely a teenager, was sitting there in
all her innocent beauty trying so hard to make me cum, and masturbating
herself at the same time, and ruining the moment by worrying. I didn’t
know quite what to say. 
   "God, I love this too, Marie. I never want it to stop. And your tits
are gorgeous just the way they are. I think I could cum just staring at
them. Why are you worried?"
   "Well, I know something you don’t know … and I’m afraid that you might
want mom and Barbara more than you want me, and I know that that will
never happen."
   "Huh?" I said. "What are you talking about?" I got this terrible
feeling that she thought mom and Barbara were going to die or something,
and that they had told her but not me. 
   "Well, mom made me promise me not to tell you this, but I think we
should have no secrets now that we’re lovers," Marie said.
   "No secrets is right," I said. I liked it that she called us lovers. I
really did love my little sister, now more then ever.
   "Well, remember when dad left, and we all had a talk about the
divorce?"
   That had been two years before.
  "Sure I remember," I said. "We all sat down and mom and dad told us they
weren’t in love anymore but they both loved all of us, and that it would
be better if he moved out so there wouldn’t be so many fights."
   It was difficult for me to talk, with Marie stroking so fast. She was
really good at this. My little 12-year-old lover. What a life!
   "Well," Marie continued, about a week after dad left, mom called
Barbara and me into her bedroom. She closed the door and said she had
something to tell us that she didn’t want you to know."
   "Really? Is it bad? Are they going to die?" I said, not knowing how to
balance this bad news with the orgasmic feeling that was rising in my
lower stomach.
   "No, silly. It was about mom’s love life. She told us that she and dad
had decided to divorce because she didn’t really like men. She was a
lezzian or something, and only wanted to make love to other girls. She
said that dad didn’t know that when they both got married, and she had
kept the secret as well as she could, but that one day dad had come home
early and caught her with Cherry, Debbie’s mom, from next door. They were
on the bed kissing each other’s pussies."
   "Holy shit!" I said. "Mom is a lesbian?" 
   "Yes, that was the word. Then she looked at me and Barb and asked us if
we still loved her."
   "What did you say?"
   "Well, I didn’t know what it all meant, but I said, ‘Yes, I love you
mommy,’ and mom started to cry. Then came the real shocker. Mom looked up
at Barb, who hadn’t said a word, and asked her if she still loved her."
   "And Barb said …?"
   "She said, ‘Mom, I think I’m like you. I don’t like boys at all, and
when I look at a girl I get a funny feeling, especially when they have no
clothes on, like in the showers after gym."
   Marie went on to tell me that mom then asked Marie to leave the room
for a while. Marie left, but stayed at the door quietly, and after a
minute of hearing nothing she looked through the keyhole.
   "I saw mom and Barb naked, and they were touching each other all over.
Mom was rubbing Barb’s pussy and Barb was squeezing mom’s nipples. I
didn’t know what to do. I sneaked back to my room and masturbated. And I
kept thinking about what I had seen. It was sexy, but I still wanted to
see boys naked instead."
    The thought of Marie watching mom and Barb sent me over the edge.
   "I’m gonna cum," I said. "So if you want to see it closely, put your
face next to my cock now!"
    She got down real close and kept stroking. My orgasm was seconds away.
   "Do you want to taste it?" I said.
   "Is it poison?" Marie asked.
   "Of course not," I said, "but you’d better make up your mind soon. If
you want it, put my cock deep into your mouth and start sucking. NOW!"
   Without missing a beat, Marie started sucking my cock. In another
second I was spurting wads of hot, white cum deep into her throat. This
was heaven.
   Marie kept pumping me with her mouth and hand until I was dry. Then she
swallowed my load without hesitation.
   "That was nice," she said, smiling. "But now you have to make me cum."
   "Do you want me to do it with my fingers or my tongue?" I asked.
   "BOTH!" she said. "I’m gonna lay down on the bed and spread my legs and
close my eyes, and you do whatever you want."
   I looked at the clock. We had at least a half-hour. No sweat.
   Marie got on the bed and spread her legs wide. She reached down and
pulled the lips of her fuzz-covered pussy apart. I could see deep inside.
Even at 12, she had a clit to die for, small and hard. I imagined I could
almost see it throbbing, but I knew that was impossible.
   I dove in and started licking it. I wiggled my tongue up and down, back
and forth, and Marie moaned and wriggled her hips sideways. She spread the
lips even more.
   "Go into the hole with your fingers," she begged. "Rub me real fast."
   I did as she asked, noticing at the same time that I was hard again and
beginning to dribble onto the bedspread. 
   The action of my tongue and fingers drove Marie wild. She started
screaming, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," with each hip movement. And finally, with
one huge "Ahhhhhhhh!" she came. A little spurt of yellow pee came out at
that moment, dripping on my lips and then onto the bed. I had never tasted
pee before, and I was surprised that it didn’t turn me off. 
   "Oh, that was soooo nice," Marie said. "So nice. Sorry about the pee. I
do that sometimes when I make myself cum, but I didn’t think I would do it
now."
   "That’s OK," I said. "I actually liked it."
   The taste had been salty, but it was the wetness and warmth that really
turned me on.
   "We’ll have to experiment with pee and stuff sometime," I said.
   "And stuff?" she asked, smiling.
   "Well, who knows …" I said. 
   At that moment, we heard a key in the front door. We threw on our
clothes and I turned the bedspread around so the wet spots were under the
pillow. I got out a book to make it look like I was studying, but Marie
and I continued to talk, softly.
   "I was worried that YOU were a lezzian," she said to me.
   "What?" I said. "ME? Only girls can be lesbians," I said. "Boys who
like boys are called gays or queers," I said. "What made you think I was
gay?"
   "Well, I’ve been watching you through the hole for about six months,"
Marie said. 
   "I know," I said. "I told you I didn’t mind that."
   "But …" she hesitated. "Promise you won’t get mad at me?" 
   "Of course not," I said. "We’re lovers, remember?"
   "OK. Well, a few months ago you were up here with Joey, from Little
League, and I was in the bathroom peeing. I looked through my hole, the
one I had made, and I saw you and Joey sitting on the bed and your cocks
were out. He was rubbing yours and you were rubbing his."
   I turned red. My god. Someone actually had seen that.
   "Listen," I said. "I’m not gay. Neither is Joey — at least I don’t
think he is. We had been talking about jerking off, and he asked me how
many times I did it. I told him about two times a day, once when I wake up
and once when I go to sleep. He told me he jerked off three or four times
a day, and that he had pictures that helped him.
   "He reached into his pocket and unfolded these pages from a magazine.
They showed men and women fucking. I was wearing shorts, and so was Joey,
and our cocks both got real hard. Joey saw mine sticking out of one of the
legs of my shorts.
   " ‘Want me to do you?’ he asked. ‘What do you mean?’ I said. ‘I’ll jerk
you off and you jerk me off. I’ll be fun,’" he said.
   "Well I couldn’t see any problems with that, because we both really
liked girls anyway, so we tried it."
   "I know," Marie interrupted. "I was watching!"
   "Yes, you saw us. You already said that. But I want you to know that we
never did that again, and that I’d much rather have you do it to me than
anyone else."  
   
   "Hi, kids, what you up to!"
   It was mom, at my bedroom door.
   "And why is this door locked?" she shouted.
   "Oh, sorry," I said. "Didn’t realize it was." I got up and unlocked it,
science book in my hand. 
   "Just studying, and Marie was asking me about my science project."
   "OK," mom said, "but you’ve both got to help me clean up now, and
quick. We’re going to have about 25 people here in an hour, and I want the
place spotless. Marie, you help me downstairs. Johnny, you clean the
bathroom. And listen, Johnny, you’re going to have to stay in your room
all night, because my girlfriends are going to be here trying on
underwear."
   "No problem, mom," I said. "I’ll stay right here all night, studying."
   "Thanks, love," she said.
   
   Mom left and I looked at Marie. 
   "Geez, what a waste," I said.
   "What do you mean? We’re going to be in here all evening watching the
girls dress and undress in the bathroom, and masturbating each other."
   "I know," I said. "I was just thinking, what a shame we don’t have a
video camera. That way we could hide it in the bathroom and make a tape of
the whole evening."
   "Well, we don’t have one now, and we probably never will," Marie said.
She was right. Even with dad’s support payments and the money mom made, we
barely had enough to pay the bills.
   Then, I had a flash of genius.
   "Wait … I know how we can get a camera. Maybe not by tonight, but in
one or two weeks, anyway. That way we’ll be ready for the next
opportunity. We could tape mom and Barb in the bathroom, for starters, and
we could even tape you and me together."
   "And when your friends come over, would you tape them peeing and
everything, so I could watch?"
   "Tell you what, I’ll take the camera with me to Little League, and I’ll
put it in a gym bag, with a little hole in the side. I’ll tape the boys
taking showers, for you to see. And you could take it to the pool, and
tape what happens in the locker room and showers, and we’ll watch them
together and jerk off together."
    "Wow, what a great idea," Marie said. "I can think of a lot of places
I could tape girls for you. But first we have to buy a camera, and how in
the world are we going to do that?"

    "ARE YOU KIDS GOING TO HELP, OR NOT?" mom shouted from downstairs.
   "Be right there," Marie yelled.
   "I’m starting now," I answered.
   "So," Marie asked as she got up, "where will the money come from?"
   "From you," I answered. "From you."
    "What do you mean, me?" she said. "I get $3 a week allowance."
   "Well," I said, my mind already putting together a grand plan, "By next
week you’ll be getting about $3 a minute. I’ll tell you how later, when
we’re watching Cherry and Liz and Harriet and the rest of mom’s friends
getting naked."
    "OK," Marie said, on her way downstairs. "This sounds interesting."
   My little sexpot lover had no idea how interesting. No idea. 


Part V coming soon. Let me know how you like this so far.


   
   
   
    





From 1 Fri Apr 05 21:20:44 1996
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From: lliillii@aol.com (LlIIllII)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest
Subject: Johnny's Closet, Part 1
Date: 3 Apr 1996 21:30:20 -0500
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
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Do not read this if you are younger than 18 or offended by sexual or
possibly   incestuous topics.


Johnny’s Closet, Part I


   Looking back, I couldn’t have had a better childhood if I had written
the script myself. Well, not really "childhood." What I am going to tell
you starts at about age 14 and continues up to ... up to now, actually.
The purpose of my tale is not to make you jealous, but, rather, to wake
you up to some delicious possibilities.
   My name is Johnny. I lived in a huge Victorian house in New Jersey with
my mom and two sisters. My father left when I was 13 and my sisters were
11 and 15. Mom and dad had what seemed like the perfect family ... three
kids spaced two years apart ... but the two of them just never got along.
They decided divorce was better than all the fighting, and we kids
actually agreed. 
   We saw dad every other weekend and he never missed a child-support
payment or a birthday. It could have been much worse.
   When they first sat us down and gave us the "divorce" talk, little
Marie cried and Barbara, my older sister just got angry. I sat there
coolly and listened. When dad got to the part about my being "the man of
the house now," I just shrugged. What could I do at age 13? Take out the
garbage? I did that anyway. But none of us wanted to make dad or mom feel
guilty, so we managed to calm Marie and that was that. He left the next
morning.
   Now, age 13 is difficult for any boy, what with hormones and body
changes and noticing girls and all that, but for me it was a bitch --
literally. That’s because there I was, starting to get erections at
anything that looked like tits -- even two scoops of mashed potatoes on a
plate -- and what happens? I’m left as the "man of the house" with three
women. There was mom,  38 years old and absolutely beautiful; Barbara, 15
and incredibly well developed; and Marie, 13 and a real flirt.
   My daily life consisted of 8 hours of sleep and 16 hours of hard-ons.
It was probably more of hard-ons, but I couldn’t tell about the sleeping
ones.
   Well, about a month after dad left, I started having this fantasy that
I could see through walls. Our four bedrooms were on the second floor of
the house, and we all shared a huge bathroom. Mom and dad had spent plenty
to make it real big and luxurious when we moved in. There was a giant
shower stall with sliding glass doors, a separate antique clawfoot tub, an
antique sink and this thing that dad said was for women’s cleanliness. The
bathroom was decorated with fine prints and the walls were covered with a
beautiful Victorian-design wallpaper. 
    My bedroom was next to the bathroom, separated only by my walk-in
closet. My two sisters had the rooms across the hall, and mom slept --
alone, now -- in the master bedroom at the end of the hall, farthest from
the bathroom.
   The bad thing about my room was that, being next to the bathroom, I
would wake up every time someone flushed the toilet. I started sleeping
with earplugs when I was about 10, and that seemed to solve the noise
problem.
   The good thing, of course, was also that my room was next to the
bathroom. It made it much more convenient to take a pee in the middle of
the night, or to run back to my room after a shower on a cold morning.
   So, the bathroom thing was both good and bad. Soon I would forget the
bad. Very soon.
   As I mentioned, I was working on this keen fantasy of being able to see
through walls. What I did was to wait until one of the girls -- mom or
Marie or Barbara -- went into the bathroom. I would go into my closet and
put my ear to the wall. It was a very thin wall (a piece of paneling,
actually, that dad installed when converting the original bathroom). The
purpose was to even out the new room and to give me a nice-sized closet.
So, I would listen through the wall and determine what the person in the
bathroom was doing. I would then go back to my bed and pretend that I
could see them.
   With my door locked, I would then jerk off -- as quietly as I could --
imagining what it looked like as, let’s say, Barbara was peeing or mom was
taking a shower. I would try to picture their bodies, the actual pee
coming out, the soap dripping across breasts, and so on. But my
almost-14-year-old imagination was not very good, and sometimes I’d fall
asleep without cumming.
   And then, it hit me. On the eve of my 14th birthday, I was listening to
little Marie going to the bathroom, and I realized that there was only
about a quarter of an inch separating my eyes from that room. What an
asshole I’d been! 
   All I had to do was figure out an undetectable way to poke a hole in
the paneling and I’d be able to watch everything that went on in there.
   I was home alone that evening. Mom was next door arranging some sort of
sales party, cookware or something, where friends would come to the house
and buy plates and baking stuff. Barbara was out with a new boyfriend. And
Marie was with mom.
   I went to the basement and opened the toolbox dad had left for mom. I
got out a screwdriver and a hammer and a giant nail. And went back to the
bathroom.
   I looked at the wall that backed to my closet. On it was the sink and
the medicine cabinet. Any hole I made would certainly be seen, I thought.
But then I realized that the wallpaper might provide camouflage for a tiny
hole if I placed the hole in exactly the right spot.
   About an inch above the top of the medicine cabinet, the wallpaper
image was that of a dark red-and-black flower. The black spot was in the
center, about a quarter of an inch wide, maybe a little more. 
   I climbed up on the sink and placed a nail on the black spot. WHAM! I
banged it with the hammer and -- miracle of miracles! -- a perfect hole. I
climbed down and looked at it from ground level. If you really REALLY
stared, you might notice something, but odds were no one would ever look
carefully at that particular flower. I climbed back onto the sink and,
inserting the screwdriver, made the hole a little bigger. I cleaned up all
of the tiny wood splinters that had fallen into the sink, and ran
downstairs to put the tools back. Just as I got back to my room, Barbara
came home from her date.
   "I hope you’re not in the bathroom, Johnny," she shouted. "I really
gotta pee!"
   "No problem," I said. "I’m studying."
   I never moved so quickly in my life. I grabbed my desk chair and
practically threw it into the closet. I climbed on top and looked for the
hole. As soon as the light went on in the bathroom I could see its shaft
coming through the paneling. My, god, with the chair, the hole was at
exactly the height of my eyes. I supported myself using the clothes rod
and looked in. There was Barbara ripping off her jumper and squatting on
the toilet, which was on the wall to the left of the sink. I looked down
as she sat and watched her rock back and forth as the pee streamed into
the water below. "Whew!" she said out loud.
  "Holy shit" I said, to myself. "This was going to be great."

more to come.  
    




From 1 Fri Apr 05 21:20:48 1996
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From: lliillii@aol.com (LlIIllII)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest
Subject: Johnny's Closet Part 5
Date: 3 Apr 1996 21:30:57 -0500
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
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DO not read this if you are under 18 years of age or if you are offended
by material of a sexual or possibly incestuous nature.

                                          Foreword to Part V
 
   Part IV ended with my 12-year-old sister, Marie, and I preparing to
watch, through a peephole in our bathroom, the 25 women who mom invited
over for a lingerie-buying party. Marie and I, although brother and sister
(I’m 14) consider ourselves "lovers." We masturbate together and love to
peek at people in our bathroom. Mom and our older sister, Barbara, are
lesbians and have a relationship much like mine and Marie’s. They
masturbate together, but they don’t know that we watch them.
    I’m going to skip ahead a few years for part V. We’ll get back to the
lingerie party in a later chapter. In this part, Marie and I are now 10
years older. She’s 22 and I am 24. We’ve been "lovers" all that time,
feeding on each other’s joy of cumming and of peeking at others. We have
been inseparable for a decade. I went to a local college so I could live
at home, and Marie chose the same school. When I was 20 and she was 18, I
moved to an apartment and she moved into a smaller unit in the same
building. We still masturbate together every chance we get, and have
experimented a few times with actual fucking. But we like peeking so much
that we’ve perfected ways to watch other people, and we masturbate each
other while we watch strangers and friends. We also videotape a lot, and
masturbate while we watch the tapes. I’ve reserved Part V to explain some
of our techniques:

                                          Johnny’s Closet, Part V

   The more I think about the past 10 years, the more I believe that I
have lead a charmed life. It’s every kid’s fantasy to catch a brief
glimpse of some beautiful girl undressing. But since age 14 I have been
able to peek at almost anyone I wanted to. I’ve done it by employing
intelligent plans and also with the help of my wonderful sister and lover,
Marie. 
    Let me give you just one example. 
   As you know if you’ve been following my story, Marie and I started
masturbating together when I was 14 ands she was 12. Over the years we’ve
continued. I don’t think a day has gone by when we haven’t each helped
each other have at least two orgasms. Even when Marie has her period, she
likes to cum at least twice a day, and I don’t mind helping her. I see her
blood not as anything gross but rather as a love liquid, warm and sweet.
    We live in the same apartment building in a New Jersey suburb, and we
do everything together. We’re both out of college now. I work in an
electronics supply store selling top-of-the-line stereos, TV sets and the
like, and Marie is an assistant managers at a suburban mall national brand
lingerie store. I won’t tell you the name; it’s a, um, Secret (ha ha).
   I’m going to tell you about one of the capers we’ve performed over the
past year, so you can get an idea of what our lives have been like.
   As I said, we’ve figured out ways to see anything we want, to watch
anyone we want to, secretly. And while we watch we masturbate together,
unless it’s in a place where we’d be caught. In those cases we make tape
recordings and watch them in my apartment, masturbating each other while
the tape runs.
   Neither of us has had a steady boyfriend or girlfriend since we started
being lovers. We didn’t need to. Oh, sure, I dated, and so did Marie, but
only so that we could secretly tape our temporary beaus. Once we got what
we wanted on tape, we moved on to another "friend." Our tape library
consists of hundreds of secretly made fuck and suck sessions, and we even
have our boy and girlfriends alone, masturbating when they thought no one
was around.
   Let me tell you about what we do on vacations. 
   Vacations are wonderful for peeking, and, with some planning, for
videotaping, too. We’ve really got it down to a science. I don’t want you
to think I’m suggesting that YOU do what we have done. Understand that if
you try this and get caught, it’s on YOU. I’m just telling you about our
experiences.
    Last fall, Marie and I want to New Hampshire for a week, during the
beautiful fall foliage season. It’s a time when a lot of couples vacation
there, some with kids, some just with each other. We are equal-opportunity
peekers: We don’t care if we’re looking in on a single guy or gal or a
couple or a family with kids. We do stay away from people with dogs,
though, because those animals have a sixth sense that makes them bark when
we’re looking in.
    Here’s a technique we perfected last fall. Marie and I checked out a
series of motels. The one we choose have to have certain qualities. What
we looked for are motels that had a long row of windows in the back. We
make sure that this back area is unlit and easy to walk through
undetected. 
   But that’s not all. We also make sure that they have at least one of
two other things: Either venetian blinds or in-window air conditioners. 
   When we find a motel that meets those requirements, we drive up to the
office and register as husband and wife. But we ask for a specific kind of
room. We ask for adjoining rooms on the first floor. We tell the clerk
that we‘re going to be in one of the rooms, and that some friends — who
should be arriving soon — will be in the other. And need it on the first
floor, we say, because the wife in the other couple is handicapped and
can’t climb stairs.
   We pay for both rooms and then go to them. Once we get inside, we start
looking around. If the two rooms have venetian blinds, we go to each blind
and put a small rip in the cotton strap that supports the bottom slat of
the blind. That causes that slat to lie about a half-inch too low, so that
when the blind is closed, there’s enough of a gap to see into the room
from the outside — but not enough of a gap for anyone inside the room to
notice.
    Then we look for an in-window air conditioner. You know, the kind that
has accordion-fold flaps on the side that expand to make the unit fit
snugly. If there is one of  those in the room,  we take a sharp pen-knife
and cut a small slit in one of the folds. Again, we make a hole large
enough to see into the room, but not so large that it would be noticed by
anyone inside the room.
   After about an hour, we go back to the office and act very apologetic.
We explain that we called our friends and found out that they had to
cancel. The wife had fallen, we say, and broken her ankle, ruining their
whole vacation.
   We explain to the clerk that not only don’t we need the second room …
we also would actually prefer to be on the second floor, where it’s
quieter. Would it be too terrible to change room, we ask. And since we’ve
already taken our luggage out of the car, would it be OK if the room was
near the original two, like maybe above one of them?
    Most times, this is no problem. We get keys to the new room, move our
stuff and turn in the original keys.
   And then we wait, hoping that someone interesting will be assigned to
those two first-floor rooms.
   If we’re also lucky enough to have a room on the second floor that
adjoins to another room, and if there’s no one in it yet, we see if the
doors separating the rooms can somehow be adapted to peeping. Sometimes we
luck out, sometimes we don’t. When we do, it’s a bonus. We get to look
through a keyhole or tiny self-made hole in that door, or we spread the
molding a little to make it possible to see through a crack.
   All of this works, of course, only in older places. The new motels are
all concrete block and heavy fiberboard doors. But the older ones are
perfect, with old wooden-paneled doors that can easily be compromised.
   This particular night we were incredibly lucky. Going into the corner
room downstairs we saw was a man and woman in their 30s. He was really fat
— looked like more than 300 pounds! She was the opposite: tall and skinny
but with decent boobs, about 36C, I guessed. They were an odd couple, but
we couldn’t wait to see what they’d do after dark.
   In the room next to them was an older couple — but we’ve found that
sometimes they’re more fun to watch than young people. More creative, if
you know what I mean. These two were in their 60s. She was the huge one
this time, short — about five feet — and with absolutely enormous breasts.
It seemed, as we looked out our window and watched them walk inside from
the parking lot, that her boobs hung down to her knees! 
   "Gosh," I said to Marie, who was already rubbing her pussy, "I can’t
wait to see those!" 
   The guy was normal looking, about 6 feet tall and with a grey goatee.
   "I guess he’s a tit man," Marie joked.
   "I sure hope so," I said. That lady is three-quarters tit!"
    It was about 4 p.m. Most of the motel patrons would be eating in the
dining room attached to the place, we figured, because there wasn’t
anything else on the highway for miles. Marie and I planned to eat at
about 5, then go back to the room and wait for dark.
    No one had moved into the room next to ours yet, so we just waited to
see what would happen there. The crack we had made in the door molding
gave us a perfect view of the bed in that room. We hoped for the best.
   We had about a half-hour until dinner.
   "Make me cum," Marie said, out of the blue. 
   "Why should I?" I joked.
   "Cause I’m horny as hell, asshole, and I can cum as many times a day as
I want."
   She always rubbed that in. My record was only four, and I liked to save
my orgasms for crucial peeking sessions.
   "OK, spread ‘em, lady," I said mimicking a TV cop.
   Marie laughed and bounced onto the king-sized bed, pulling down her
shorts and underpants in one clean motion, almost in mid-air.
   I dove into her perfumed muff and started to kiss her deeply. I pressed
my nose into her slit and took a huge breathe. "God, you smell delicious,"
I said.
   I continued to kiss and suck her until her clit started to harden. Then
I gripped it gently with my teeth and started flicking it with my tongue.
   "Put your fingers in, too," she said. Marie had loved that ever since
we were kids. My teeth and tongue on her clit, my fingers, at least two or
three of them, deep in her moist pussy. Lately we had added a long middle
finger up her asshole. 
   We lay there for about 10 minutes, me slurping and fingering away,
Marie moaning softly at first and then more loudly. I could tell she was
about to blow.
   "Ohhhhhhh, God!" she yelled. "God, I love you, Michael."
   She squirted that little squirt of pee that always comes out when she
has an orgasm. As usual, it landed on my lips and rolled down my cheek. I
stuck my tongue deep inside her again and licked her clean. I had grown to
love the smell and taste and touch of her pee, just as she had become
accustomed to the heady flavor of my cum. We really were in love, Marie
and I. I wondered if this was going to be a lifelong commitment. I really
wanted it to be.
    Her whole body seemed to go limp. 
   "Let’s skip dinner," she said. "I just want to lie here forever."
   We heard a door slam in the room below us. I jumped up and looked out
the window.
   "It’s the fat guy and his stringbean wife," I said. It looks like
they’re going to dinner. Let’s get a table near them."
   We loved to talk to the people were planned to peek at. It added
something to the excitement. Marie slowly got up and threw on a T-shirt
and shorts. 
   "Shit. OK, let’s go. You’re right. We’ll get friendly with them."
   Marie’s beautiful nipples were rock-hard, and you could see the points
through her shirt. There even was a hint of the darkness showing through.
   "I’ll bet you give the fat guy a hard-on," I said.
   "Let’s see, lover!" Marie said, and we bounded out to the restaurant.

   We wangled a table right next to the couple, smiled and said hello. A
little small talk later and we learned that they were from New York City,
where he was a stock broker and she was an artist. They had been married
the day before, had spent their honeymoon at a snazzy New York hotel and
then driven up here for the scenery.
   They had no idea that within an hour or two THEY would be OUR scenery!
   I spent the whole meal wondering what he would look like fucking her.
Marie obviously was thinking about the same thing. I could see her right
hand, hidden by the tablecloth, gently rubbing her pussy as she stared at
the guy’s crotch to see if her nipples had given him a hard-on. It was
impossible to tell, but it was fun to think about.
    About halfway through the meal the second couple came in — the old
folks. The hostess tried to seat them at a booth, but this woman’s chest
was so huge she couldn’t fit in the seat. Embarrassed, they asked to move,
and the hostess put them at a table, where the women could move her chair
back a foot and sit comfortably. I tell you, I have never, ever, seen
breasts this huge. I began to dribble into my shorts thinking about what
her nipples must look like. Marie saw me redden and just smiled.
   We finished eating and, as the waiter was bringing our check we noticed
a van pull up to the section of the motel where our room was. We couldn’t
make out who was inside, but we said goodnight to the fat guy and his
bride, left the money on our table, and rushed out, hoping to see who was
in the van.
   Just as we got to the sidewalk, out of the van stepped a long-legged
drop-dead blonde, about 40 I would guess, wearing a mini-skirt that was
almost no skirt at all, and a T-shirt that, like Marie’s, left nothing to
the imagination. About a 40D, I guessed. "Lucky husband," I whispered to
Marie, and we strained to look as the guy got out of the driver’s seat.
    My jaw dropped. It wasn’t her husband, that’s for sure. Son, maybe,
but definitely not husband. This kid was 16 at most. He went to the back
of the van, picked up two pieces of luggage and headed for the stairs.
   "OK, mom," he said. "Open the door … these are heavy!"
   The went into the room next to ours!
   I looked at Marie. "Holy shit," I said. "Do you think they’re fucking?"
   "Why do you say that?" she asked. "Many moms travel with their sons."
   "Yes," I said. "But do you remember what we saw when we looked into
that room?"
   "No," she said. "What?"
   "A bed, that’s what. ONE bed! They ARE sleeping together! This is going
to be a great night."

    We went back to our room and planned the evening. We’d turn out the
light in our room and watch the mom and son as long as we could. Then,
when it got dark, we’d take turns "strolling" along the back of the motel,
waiting for a chance to watch the couples. If we were lucky, we could peek
and masturbate together either in the room or down in the back as we
watched.

   "I can’t want to see that huge lady," I said.
   "I can’t want to see that fat man fuck his skinny bride," Marie said.
   And, practically in unison, we both said: "And I can’t want to watch
that lucky kid fuck his mom’s brains out!"

   Look for Johnny’s Closet, Part 6, in a day or two!

   And let me know if you like this stuff!


From 1 Fri Apr 05 21:20:51 1996
Path: news.surfsouth.com!imci5!pull-feed.internetmci.com!news.internetMCI.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!howland.reston.ans.net!news-e2a.gnn.com!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: lliillii@aol.com (LlIIllII)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest
Subject: Johnny's Closet, Part 3
Date: 3 Apr 1996 21:19:29 -0500
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
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Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com
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Reply-To: lliillii@aol.com (LlIIllII)
NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com

   DO not read this if you are under 18 years of age or if you are
offended by material of a sexual or possibly incestuous nature.

                                          Foreword to Part III

   First of all, thank you for the many kind comments about "Johnny’s
Closet." Your words of appreciation are what keep me typing away! Now that
I have a spelling corrector, perhaps there won’t be so many typos!
   I will try to answer all of your questions here, at the top of Part
III.
   First, to address the most-asked question: Yes, what I am writing is
true, based on fact. Obviously, the names are changed. 
   Second, although my America Online "profile" lists me as female,
clearly I am a male. The "female" designation simply is because sometimes
it is fun to pretend to be what you are not, as many on-liners know.
   Finally, many of you ask how old I am. I am now 29 … what I am writing
about started about 15 years ago. I will let you read on to find out if
and when the fun ever stopped. And now, the last few paragraphs of Part
II, to set the stage …


 


 
 
   
    I was still breathing hard. Holy shit, Mom and Barbara make each other
cum. And probably every night. And I would be watching, secretly.
    My cock was hard again. Would I be able to go for three in one day? I
fell asleep trying and woke up once in the middle of the night in a cold,
wet puddle.
    My alarm went off at 6 in the morning and in the background I could
hear the shower handles being turned. It was Marie, I guessed, getting
ready for her morning shower. What surprise would I see when I peeked now,
I wondered? Who’d be in there with her, fuckin’ Elvis Presley? I joked.
   I ran to the chair and looked through the hole. 
   All I could say was, "JESUS H. CHRIST!"


And now … Part III of "Johnny’s Closet."


   After an evening of watching my mom and my older sister masturbate each
other in the bathroom, I thought I was ready for anything. I had heard my
sister Marie, who is 12, go in for her morning shower. I figured I’d get
an eyeful watching her take off her pajamas and pee and then rub her young
body all over in the shower. I was rock hard — at least for a 15-year-old.
But what I saw when I looked through the tiny hole I had made in the wall
the day before really shook me. Because when I stood up on the chair and
placed my eye next to the hole, what I saw was … another eye, looking back
at me!
   "JESUS H. CHRIST" I said out loud. 
   "Hi, Johnny!" I heard. "I can see you, and now you can see me!"
   It was Marie! She was looking back at me through the hole I had made,
the hole I was certain no one would notice. What was going on here?
   "Uh, Marie?" I said, loud enough for her to hear through the paneling. 
   "Yup," she said. "It’s me!" "I’m standing on the sink, looking through
your hole. Can I come in so we can talk?"
   "Uh, sh-sh-sure, I stammered.
   I climbed off the chair and walked to my bedroom door, unlocking it
quietly. Marie was standing there in her jammies.
   I ushered her in … didn’t want to wake up mom or Barbara … and she
plopped right down on my bed.
   "Bet you thought you were pretty sly putting a hole in the bathroom
wall," she said, smiling. "Well, have I got a surprise for you!"
   "OK," I said, "you got me. I really didn’t want to spy on you," I lied.
"I just was curious about, well, what Barbara looked like. Please don’t
tell."
   "Don’t tell? Of course I won’t tell. After all, I’ve been watching you
for months!"
   What the hell was she talking about, I wondered. I had made the hole
only the day before. I told her that and waited for her response.
   "Oh, yes, THAT hole. I’m not talking about the hole you made yesterday.
I noticed it the minute I went into the bathroom last night, because I
always look at that wall. And I always look at it because I have my own
hole there."
   "What are you talking about?" I asked, getting a little nervous now.
   "Well, just like you wonder what Barbara looks like naked, I always
wondered about you. You’re the only man in the house, and I started
thinking about what you looked like, you know, undressed. So last summer I
poked a tiny hole in the wall, just to the side of the sink, and I’ve been
watching you since then. Anytime you leave your closet door open, anyway."
   "No way," I said. I got up and went into my closet, Marie right behind
me. And just like she said, about three feet high — and with a direct line
to my bed — was a small opening in the wall. 
   "WHAT HAVE YOU SEEN!" I demanded, more embarrassed than angry.
   "Well, I guess I’ve seen it all, but not up close. I watch you undress
each night, I watch you lie in bed and touch your weenie, I watch you rub
it real fast and I watch you clean up the white stuff that squirts out."
   My face was red and I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, die or just beat
the shit out of her. 
   "I have to tell you," she said quickly, "I really love to watch you. It
makes me feel soooo good down here," she said, pointing to her crotch.
"And then, when I saw that you had put a hole in the wall, too, I figured
that you were doing the same thing to me and mom and Barb."
   I didn’t know what to say, but Marie spoke again, before I had a chance
to think of anything. "Can I ask you something?" she said.
   "OK," I told her.
   "Well, first, are you mad? After all, I wasn’t doing anything that you
didn’t do."
   "No, I guess I’m not mad. Just a little surprised."
   "Well, here’s my second question. You know now that I’ve been watching
you for a couple of months. But that hole is small, and your bed is far
away from it. Would you …" she hesitated a second and then, brave kid,
continued. "Would you show me what you do with your weenie, up close?"
   God, this was hot!  My little sister asking to watch me jerk off. Maybe
if I let her see, she’d let me watch  — and touch — her.
   "Sure," I said. "But you have to get naked first."
   I smiled at her, and she smiled at me, and the first thing we did was
go to the door to make sure it was locked.
   I pulled my pajama bottoms down and my dick snapped forward, like it
was driven by a spring. She slipped out of her top and bottom, and all I
could do was stare. That little vixen … only 12 years old and she had
these beautiful little titties. Each was about the size of half an orange,
and each had a gorgeous quarter-sized nipple in the center, all smooth and
pointy.
   Her pussy was covered with a see-though layer of light blond hair. I
could see her whole slit.
   "OK," I said. "I’m going to start. This is called jerking off, and it’s
like having sex with your hand. It feels really good, especially when I
squirt the white stuff out, which is called cumming."
   "Is that what happens when people have sex together to make a baby?"
she asked?
   "It is," I said. "It’s the white stuff that has the baby-making sperm
in it."
   "I read about it in a book mom gave me," Marie said, "but it used a lot
of words I didn’t understand. Does it feel good for the girl, too?"
   "I’m sure it does," I said. "Don’t you ever, uh, rub yourself down
there?"
   Marie blushed but said she did, a lot, and she did it each time she
watched me through the hole.
   "Well," I told her, "that’s like the feeling I get. It’s called
‘orgasm’ and I wish I could do it 10 times a day."
   "I can!" she announced proudly.
   "Shut-up!" I said. "You’re making me jealous!"
   I lay down on the bed and told her to lean over me. She bent over and I
positioned her nipples over my mouth. Then I started to pull off, very
slowly at first.
   "If you want to watch up close, now’s your chance," I told her.
    I stared at those nipples and started to suck on one. She turned her
face toward my moving hand and watched intently.
   "Can I touch you, too?" I asked.
   "Yes," Marie said. "Touch me down here with your other hand."
   So there we were. I’m lying on the bed, jerking off with my right hand,
Marie is standing next to the bed, bending over so I could suck her
nipples, head turned to watch for any sign of cum. And, at her request, I
put my left hand between her spread legs and found that delicious little
crack. I inserted my middle finger, but the angle was awkward and it
couldn’t go in deep. I then tried my thumb. A perfect fit.
   Up and down, up and down, I used my thumb as a tiny dick inside her
pussy. 
   "Mmmm," she said. "That feels sooo … sexy."
   I sucked a nipple hard, continuing to move my thumb up and down inside
her, all the while jerking — now furiously, 
   I pulled my mouth away just in time to say, "Here it comes … get real
close."
   My thumb slid out as Marie moved over to within an inch of my cock. 
   "Ahhhhh," I said, as one, two, three, four squirts came out, landing
mostly on my stomach."
   "Wow!" she said. "Wow for me, too," I said. 
   "What does it feel like?" Marie asked.
   "Warm and sticky," I said. "Here, touch my dick."
   I pointed to the head of my cock, where a few lingering drops of cum
were slowly beginning to slide down my shaft.
   Marie didn’t hesitate a second. She took my cock in both hands and used
an index finger to rub the cum in little circles around the head.
   I smiled. "Let’s do this every morning," I said. 
   "And every night, too?" she asked, smiling back?
   "And every night!" I agreed.

    Just then we heard footsteps down the hall. Was it mom again, or
Barbara, or BOTH of them, like last night? I hopped up on my chair, still
dribbling cum, and looked.

   There was mom, naked and sitting on the toilet. I watched, focusing on
those huge, gorgeous nipples. 

  "Who is it?" Marie asked. "Mom, I said."
   "Well," Marie said, you concentrate on mom, and I’ll handle you." 
   Standing next to the chair, she took my cock in her right hand and
started to jerk it the way I had just before.
   "You watch, I’ll jerk," she said.
   I couldn’t even answer. I just supported my body against the paneling
and watched mom as Marie moved her right hand back and forth around my
cock. She then put her left hand in the crack of my butt and, without even
asking, found the asshole with her middle finger. I had never had anyone
do that to me … certainly never even thought of it. But it felt wonderful.
Jerking me with one hand, rubbing my asshole with the other. Marie was
wonderful!

   "God, don’t stop!" I said.

   "Shhhh!" she said. "Just promise me you’ll make me cum, too, tonight." 

   "You bet," I said.

   Mom was off the toilet now and instead of showering, she was using a
washcloth to clean herself at the sink. I watched he wet down and soap her
tits, and her pussy and under her arms. Then she did something I hadn’t
expected. She placed a large towel on the floor, in front of the toilet,
and grabbed a bottle of shampoo. She lay down on the towel and raised one
foot up onto the toilet seat. She spread the other foot out far to the
left, leaving her pussy wide open. Then she took the bottle of shampoo and
put the rounded top inside her. Deep inside.
   She moved it in and out, then sideways, then around in a circle, and
then took her other hand and found a little spot on the top of her pussy
and began to rub it madly. 
As she did all this, her tits were rocking back and forth and she had this
blank look on her face.
    I watch for about a minute, Marie jerking me the whole time. And then,
just as mom’s ass moved WAY up for a second, and I heard her moan (the
word YES, I think), I shot my load. My cum landed right on one of Marie’s
nipples, and she seemed to like that. At least she smiled and started to
rub my wetness into her, like body lotion.
   Mom stood up and wiped her pussy, which was all wet from the action.
She hung the towel up and put on her bathrobe. 
    "Time to get up, kids," she shouted as she passed each of our rooms.
And then she went into her bedroom to get dressed,
    
   Marie looked up at me. "What was mom doing?" she asked.
   "She was doing what you do … rubbing down there … and cumming," I said.
   "And that’s what you’ll do to me tonight, right?" she asked?
   "Right!" I promised.

   "Maybe we should say we’re sick today and stay home and do this all day
long," Marie said.

   "I’d really like to do that," I said, "but I can’t miss school today.
There’s a big test I can’t miss. But, tomorrow is another story," I added.

   "Tomorrow is mom’s home show," Marie said. "She’s setting it up
tonight."
    "Oh, you mean the party she’s giving to sell cookware?" I asked.

   "Cookware?" Marie said. "Who ever said it was cookware? She’s giving a
lingerie party for all her friends. There’ll be about 25 of her
girlfriends here, trying on bras and panties and all kinds of gross
things."

   "What?" I asked. "Trying them on where?"
   "Well, when I went with mom to Cherry’s, next door, for a planning
meeting, they said that they’d all sit in the living room and group to the
bathroom one by one to put on the stuff and then come down to model it."

   Our faces brightened at the same time. Tomorrow evening I’d lock myself
in my room … to study, of course. I told Marie that and we laughed.

 Marie and I left for school that morning knowing that when we returned in
the afternoon we’d help each other cum again. And we knew that night we’d
take turns watching the neighbors and mom’s other friends undressing. I
made a mental list of the tits I’d be seeing … all of those wonderful
ladies that I’ve dreamed about when they visited mom in the past. I’d get
to see 25 pairs of knockers in one evening. What could be better than
that, I asked myself.

    But that evening Marie would tell me something that’d make my future
even brighter. Something about mom and Barbara. Something that would
change our lives.


Part IV to come. Let me know if you like this story …





From 1 Fri Apr 05 21:20:54 1996
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From: lliillii@aol.com (LlIIllII)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest
Subject: Johnny's Closet, Part 2
Date: 3 Apr 1996 21:19:33 -0500
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
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DO not read this if you are under 18 years of age or if you are offended
by material of a sexual or possibly incestuous nature.

end of part one, as a reminder:


   I never moved so quickly in my life. I grabbed my desk chair and
practically threw it into the closet. I climbed on top and looked for the
hole. As soon as the light went on in the bathroom I could see its shaft
coming through the paneling. My, god, with the chair, the hole was at
exactly the height of my eyes. I supported myself using the clothes rod
and looked in. There was Barbara ripping off her jumper and squatting on
the toilet, which was on the wall to the left of the sink. I looked down
as she sat and watched her rock back and forth as the pee streamed into
the water below. "Whew!" she said out loud.
  "Holy shit" I said, to myself. "This was going to be great."

AND NOW ... PART II of "Johnny’s Closet"


     I couldn’t believe it. After more than a year of lusting after my mom
and two sisters, I finally had figured out a way to watch them at will. My
walk-in closet, right next to the bathroom, provided a perfect view,
thanks to the quarter-inch hole I had put above the medicine cabinet’s
mirror.
    In the first five minutes I already had watched older sister Barbara
pee. True, I hadn’t seen her jumbo tits yet, but hey, I was only 14. I had
years of peeking ahead of me. Life, all of a sudden, seemed wonderful. I
was, as my parents had told me the day they announced their divorce, "The
man of the house now." And to me, that meant I was free to watch, watch,
watch. My big sister, Barbara, almost 17. My little sister, Marie, 12 but
developing quickly. And, most of all, mom, 38 and the sexiest women I’ve
ever seen.
   Barbara wiped herself dry and dropped the used toilet paper into the
bowl. I shuddered, wondering what it would be like to have that damp pile
of sheets to play with. What would I do? Would I smell it? Would I inhale
the odor of Barbara’s pee and her hole? Would I jerk off as I looked at
the yellow stained wad and then add my cum to it? I was hard again just
fantasizing. What a mind for being only 14!
    I was tempted to jerk off again, but I had never cum more than twice
in one day, and I knew mom took a shower every evening at 10. I wanted to
save my next load for that, so I forced myself to think about something
else.
    "I’m done in here, in case you need the bathroom now," Barbara shouted
as she passed my door."
   I almost said, "I know," but managed to catch myself. "Thanks, Barb." I
offered. "I’m OK."
   Since there were so many of us to share one bathroom, we always
announced when we were done in there, so anyone else who had to go could
get in quickly. "I won’t need them to tell me now," I said to myself,
smiling.
   Mom and Marie got home from next door, where they had been planning the
home sales party, and all they did was wash their hands. We had dinner and
watched a little TV, and at 9 it was time for Marie to go to bed.
   "I’m going to take my shower in the morning, mom, if that’s OK," she
announced. "I’m pretty tired."
   "No problem, love," mom said. "See you tomorrow."
   Marie went upstairs to get into her pajamas and, I guess, to pee. But I
already had seen Barbara pee, and I didn’t want to climb the stairs just
to watch Marie do the same thing. I continued to watch sitcoms with
Barbara and mom, and then, at 9:30 it was time for my shower.
   "G’night," I said to the two older women in my life. "I’m gonna wash up
and then go to sleep. See ya tomorrow."
   "‘Night, sweetie," mom said. "Night," Barbara said.
   As I left the living room to climb the stairs, I saw looked back for a
second to get one more glance at the two women whose tits I would be
seeing for the first time that night. For a second, I thought I caught
them smiling at each other, but I looked closer and figured it was my
imagination. I went upstairs, got my pajamas and hurried to the bathroom
for that quick shower.
   Once behind the locked door, I immediately looked up at the hole. It
was barely visible. "No," I thought to myself, "they’ll never see it."
   I took a quick shower, and about two minutes into it, I realized
something terrible. The damn glass shower door! I had looked through my
new closet hole at that door five or six times that evening, imagining
what a great angle I had into the shower. But shit! In less than three
minutes in the shower, the whole door had steamed up. It was impossible to
see out, so it certainly would be impossible to look in. Damn! What could
I do.
   It was then that a miracle happened, or at least it seemed like a
miracle to a young kid. Two weeks before, I had been shopping at the local
mall with mom, and we had been called over to a small, temporary booth by
some guy selling something. You know those little kiosks that set up in
malls, where people who are out of work or something try to make ends meet
by pushing one kind or crappy product or another. Well, this guy was
selling something to clean your eyeglasses with, a kind if slippery salve
in a small jar. He offered to clean mom’s sunglasses for free and she let
him. 
   He rubbed the stuff on her glasses, then wiped it off with a little
rag. Mom looked at the glasses. "Wow," she said to him. "You weren’t
kidding! This really is clean!"
    "It’s a very good product ma’am," he said. "The one tub is $7 and
lasts a year," he said. "But for $10 you can have two tubs, or one tub and
a bottle of WindowCleer."
    "Of what?" mom asked?
   "WindowCleer," he said. "It’s the same product, but in liquid form," he
said. "You wipe in on windows, mirrors, even the inside of your car’s
windshield, and the glass is guaranteed not to steam up."
    The miracle, I guess, is that conversation just popped into my head,
word for word, at exactly the time I most needed it. Of course!
WindowCleer! Mom had gotten the $10 package, and I remember that she put
the bottle under the bathroom sink.
   I bolted out of the shower and opened the door to the cabinet below the
sink. YES! It was there. I quickly read the instructions. "Place a small
amount of product on a cotton cloth and rub gently on glass surface. Do
not rinse. Glass is guaranteed not to steam up. Perfect for bathrooms,
eyeglasses ..."
   I didn’t have to read another word. I got a washcloth and poured some
of the liquid on it. I then scrubbed down both sides of the shower door,
put the bottle back, dried myself off and threw on my pajamas. 
   My dick was hard as a rock and still a little red from all the rubbing
I’d been doing. I really wanted to jerk off, but I knew it would pay to
wait.
   I looked at the hole again, on my way out and smiled again. Oh, man. I
was gonna see mom’s tits in less than an hour.

   "I’m done in the bathroom," I shouted down to the girls. 
   "Thanks, honey," mom shouted back. "See you later."
   "No," I joked to myself. "I’ll see YOU later!"

   I went back in my room and made sure everything was set up. First, of
course, I locked my door. I guess people who like to spy on others usually
take real care to make sure no one can spy on them. Then, I moved the
clothes along the rod to one end of the closet and placed my chair just
under the hole. There was just enough room to stand there and fit my head
under the closet shelf while peeking through the hole. 
   What else would I need? Ahh ... a flashlight, because I’d be working in
the dark, so no one would see light coming through my end of the hole.
And, yes, a box of tissues for, well, you know ... I didn’t want to get
cum all over the closet wall.
   I placed the tissue box on the closet shelf and then got into bed. I
wanted to do a quick run-through, so nothing could go wrong.
    Let’s see ... mom walks past my room in her bathrobe and into the
bathroom. I turn on the flashlight, leap out of bed and climb on the
chair. I turn out the flashlight and place it on the closet shelf, grab
three or four tissues in my left hand and place my left eye up to the
hole. 
   Right hand on cock, left hand  full of tissues. Clear view of the
shower. Perfect. I retraced my steps and waited.
   I gently squeezed my hard-on, waiting for mom. First, I rubbed it up
and down slowly. Then I pinched it in the middle. Then I tickled the head.
Then I rubbed the shaft against my stomach. "C’mon, mom," I said softly.
"Let me watch you take a shower."
    I couldn’t possibly know how much better my first show would be than
simply watching her get washed.

   After what seemed like an hour -- but according to the clock was only
about 20 minutes -- I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I heard two
doors close. Guess mom and Barbara had come up at the same time. A few
minutes later I heard more steps, this time coming down the hall and
walking toward the bathroom. I turned on the flashlight and, knees
literally shaking, went to the closet and got up on the chair.
   I would see a tiny spot of light in the closet, telling me someone was
in the bathroom.
   "Here goes," I said to myself. "Presenting ... mom’s tits!"

   I put the tissues in my left hand, grabbed my blood-filled cock in my
right and placed my eye to the hole. Oh, my god. It wasn’t mom. I mean, it
wasn’t JUST mom. This was unbelievable. This was incredible. There was
mom, yes, starting to undress for her shower. But with her and already
totally naked was Barbara! 
   Mom was sitting on the toilet, peeing. She still had on her bra but
nothing else. Barbara was standing in front of her, only inches away. And
Barbara was reaching down and playing with her own pussy. She was standing
in front of our mom and playing with herself! What was happening?

   Mom’s eyes were glued to Barbara’s hands. Barb started pumping her rear
end back and forth in a regular motion. She started to moan, but mom
quickly put her finger up to make a shhhh sound.
   Barbara nodded but continued to touch herself. Then, mom stood up,
reached behind her and started unhooking her bra. 
   My cock was throbbing and was dripping with precum, but I was too
shocked to jerk it. I just watched and tried to control my breathing so no
one could hear me.
  Mom’s bra dropped to the floor. Oh, god, what fabulous tits! They were
bigger than I had dreamed, although the numbers associated with bra sizes
meant nothing to me. I had often looked at mom’s bras in the hamper and on
the drying line in the basement, but I didn’t know what 40DD had meant --
until now, that is!
   And her nipples. They were dark and large -- covering almost a third of
the front of each tit. And the points were long and like a pencil eraser.
In spite of my shock, I managed to start a slow knack and forward motion
with my right hand.
   Barbara’s tits were also gorgeous. Her bras had said 36C, and now I
knew what that meant too. Her nipples were smaller and lighter colored but
more pointy than moms. But while both women had different bodies, both
really were getting me hot.
    I started to look down toward their pussies, now, but before I could
focus there Barbara started to reach out toward mom. She grabbed both of
mom’s nipples and started to pinch them gently. And mom started doing the
same to Barbara.
   I couldn’t believe this. Mom and Barbara playing with each other’s
bodies. That must have been why they were smiling earlier when I had
mentioned my shower. Why, they must have been doing this forever ...
playing with each other when I was done with my shower. And the only
reason I learned about it at all was because of the hole. My wonderful
closet hole.
   Their hands now shifted downward, to their hairy mounds. Mom’s was
short and trimmed, almost like she shaved it into the shape of a beard.
Barbara’s was long, big and wild, hairs sticking out at all angles.
   Mom rubbed Barbara. Barbara rubbed mom. And then they sidled over to
the shower and turned it on. 
    A minute later they both were inside, a mass of hands and wetness and
soap and rubbing and touching. Fingers going in and out of holes. Even
though I had a beautifully clear view through the chemical-treated window,
it was hard to keep track of all the moving.
    Mom bent over and Barbara spread mom’s butt cheeks and found her
asshole. Barb stuck in her index finger and moved in and out as mom
wiggled her ass.
    Then mom did the same to Barb.
    The went for each other’s tits again, this time squeezing and sucking.
Then mom got down on her knees and started kissing Barb’s mound. 
   The changed positions, with Barb doing the tonguing this time. It went
on for 10 minutes. I looked down and noticed that I had already shot a
load onto the closet wall. Shit! I had come and didn’t even notice! I
wiped up the dribbling stain with the tissues and went back to the hole.
My two little sex kittens were out of the shower now, drying each other
off and smiling as if it was THEY who had just cum, not me. Shit, they
probably did cum in there but I never saw the actual moment.
   They each put bathrobes on, smiled again at each other and walked out
into the hall like nothing had happened. I heard both of their bedroom
doors close and got back into my bed.
    I was still breathing hard. Holy shit, Mom and Barbara make each other
cum. And probably every night. And I would be watching, secretly.
    My cock was hard again. Would I be able to go for three in one day? I
fell asleep trying and woke up once in the middle of the night in a cold,
wet puddle.
    My alarm went off at 6 in the morning and in the background I could
hear the shower handles being turned. It was Marie, I guessed, getting
ready for her morning shower. What surprise would I see when I peeked now,
I wondered? Who’d be in there with her, fuckin’ Elvis Presley? I joked.
   I ran to the chair and looked through the hole. 
   All I could say was, JESUS H. CHRIST!"


Part 3 to come soon.

Write to me if you like this shit!
    
   

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