Jack and Jill Ch. 01

I'm breaking this story into chapters because too much is changing in the draft revisions. This chapter is complete on its own. The original draft is 10K+ words, so it's also a test of my new process. If it sucks please say so, and I'll move on.

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Chapter 1

Pulling up to my grandparents' house, the whole deck was draped in little American flags. The lake house buzzed like a beehive, and it looked like we were the last to arrive. Caleb and Marny, my brother and sister, with Mom's red hair, woke and tumbled out of the van as soon as we stopped.

I counted: if you included Grandma and Grandpa, there were five couples orbiting the front lawn, the deck already crowded with lawn chairs, cooler lids popping, and too many young cousins rampaging barefoot like a school of piranha.

Then my heart did this fluttery, traitorous thing when I saw him walk out of the boathouse.

Jack.

It's funny how just four years change everything. When Jack and I were fourteen, we'd dunk each other in the lake and race for the last popsicle. He'd shot up another inch or two, sunburned along his shoulders, and grinned in this way that made me forget about the younger cousins shrieking over sparklers.

"Jill!" he called, waving his water bottle. "Didn't think you'd make it out from the big city."

I rolled my eyes, playing hard to get. The crush of muscular arms made me shudder, but I lied anyway.

"Come on. Grandma threatened to mail me rhubarb pie if I missed this year." I said, "Where's your dad?"

He smirked and pointed to the house. We were the vanguard, Jack and I, just old enough to act bored but too wound up to hide it, and we loved this reunion ritual because it was funny how the grown-ups all stopped, as if a spell had been cast. Jack's dad, Uncle Sam, lumbered his big frame onto the porch, and Mom's carroty curls bounced as my favorite circus act was about to start.

As we wandered closer to get a better seat for the show, Jack slipped his arms around my waist from behind and leaned against the tree. He put his face in my not-at-all-red, wavy hair and just breathed. I felt it coursed through me--hot, shivery, a live wire from his chest pressed to my back. My doubts, which were many, were stamped out by that one gesture. I looked at him over my shoulder, still trying to be coy.

"Nostalgic, or just horny?" I asked.

He nuzzled the crown of my head, his sheepish smile making me wish I had been more honest.

"Little of column A, a little of column B."

"Works for me," I said.

I slipped my hand between us, grabbed his boner, bold as you please. I waited for his silent approval, then unzipped his shorts and went fishing. We were getting away with murder, and my whole body buzzed with it. Mom stretched her arms wide, her DD bosom impressive as ever, and Jack's dad barreled toward her like he might try to break the family record for a high-speed collision with Mom's two airbags. But right before impact, they dodged--her torso bent at the waist, her cleavage stretching the fabric of her shirt as if deflected by an invisible forcefield.

"C'mon, you know you can to start a seismic event with these melons, where is you sense of adventure," Mom quipped, giving her boobs an exaggerated upward bounce. "I promised the board of tourism no natural disasters till sunset, but for you, I'll make an exception. "

Uncle Sam grinned, bending at the waist to hyperbolically 'look down' her shirt.

"Gravity's cruel, Sis. Besides, Mom says I can't use you for shelter after last year's incident."

"Gravity?"

Mom looked at pendulous breasts, then opened a button, showing everyone the double duty her clothing items performed. Uncle Sam made a cartoon face with his eyes popping out. I had Jack's fully erect shaft in my hand, and it told me he wished he had that view. Uncle Ben's wife had one of her older nephews along for the celebration. He was the only one to register what I was doing, but his view was close to Uncle Sam's. The instant Mom dipped her jugs, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Mom and Uncle Sam tiptoed forward with her cleavage open for him to see. Their mouths were open like a wrong turn family reunion was about to take place, then puckered at the last minute to finish their performance with a dainty peck on the lips. Mom and Uncle Sam burst into side-splitting laughter and gave each other a warm hug, still laughing. The laughter was familiar--an old family ritual. Mom's sailor talk made everyone blush, and their recurring performances were so well-choreographed that the show even titillated me. My wet panties and Jack's boner were the start of a less subtle, more private family tradition.

Behind them, one could see Aunt Lila was blushing from the tips of her ears because she kept her hair in a ballerina bun, already fussing with the drink cooler, trying to get her husband Gary, to stop staring staring at my mom's boobs.

"They ought to sell tickets," Gary muttered, "You know, raise funds for heart attack victims after her next wardrobe malfunction."

On the stairs, Uncle Ben, the baby brother doomed to forever look twelve despite being a parent himself, called out,

"Careful! You're blocking the stairs with your... assets!"

His wife Maria barked, "If those fall on you, I'm not doing CPR to revive you."

"Is Aunt Maria bitter because she has small boobs?" Jack asked

"I don't think I would trade being that pretty for big boobs."

Aunt Maria was a runner-up in a state beauty contest and married Uncle Ben because she was a cougar at heart.

Meanwhile, my dad, Jack's uncle, sighed theatrically,

"This is why we named you Jack and Jill. You're the only two who can keep the peace between those two."

Jack snorted. "We just try not to get trampled."

It was chaos as always. The four children, grandpa and grandma, and their spouses produced twelve first-cousin grandchildren--me and Jack at the helm, a pack of cousin-siblings between 7 and 15, plus two college-aged second cousins not related by blood, were in attendance. Uncle Gary's nephew never recovered from seeing Mom's cleavage and was still staring. Aunt Maria's niece, who looked familiar, was put out because Gary's nephew had been talking to her.

Grandpa bellowed from the back deck: "No running with torches, and somebody find the cat before lunch!" Grandma wheeled out with a cart of lemonade, pulling the niece's mind away from the situation by listing which cousins were siblings until she ran out of breath.

Sam's wife, Abby, was ready to continue the show.

"If you've finished flirting with my husband, Kate, I'm ready for that erection--Sam, I mean, the drink you promised me."

Dad, Uncle Don to everyone else, chimed right in,

"Hon, your nipples will impale anyone running too fast if you don't calm down."

"Language!" Grandma said.

I had no idea what she was warning against, the breasts or the erection comment.

There was always this kind of banter--never just siblings, never quite anything else. If it wasn't Mom's and Uncle Sam's torrid imaginary brother-sister incest. It was Abby talking about Uncle Sam's sister-inspired boner. They'd duel with wordplay all afternoon. And beneath it all, the old, weird comfort, the closeness everyone had that went beyond physical. Mom (Kate), Uncle Sam, Aunt Lily, and Uncle Ben, and the married into aunts and uncles: Dad (Don), Abby, Gary, and Maria never strayed far from one another. They huddled together to talk without shouting. Including Grandma and Grandpa, not counting Jack and me, ten pairs of eyes kept careful watch on ten children.

Jack and I appreciated it for the first time on many levels. It kept the rest of the family entertained at every single gathering and distracted them enough to talk to my dad while holding an erect penis in my hand with a straight face. Eventually, the tide of greetings and mock-battles ebbed. I extracted my hand from Jack's shorts, and he pulled my hips against him, his voice low and conspiratorial.

"Let's explore."

Mom had hi-res libido scanners and could spot an erection within fifty feet, thus, we needed to be twice that distance to hope for privacy. Using Grandma as our foil, we stayed in the cellar after helping her move some things. Jack stood under the stone lip of the cellar window, dust swirling in the sunlight's rays. Overhead, the distant cackling--Mom, probably launching her next innuendo missile--made my stomach tighten, and not just with nerves.

Jack's mom, Abby, squealed, "Your sister's tits work faster than viagra,"

Jack heard it too, then looked at my chest. He looked at me in a new way. Not creepy, but focused, like we were the only two normal people in the house. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and into his.

"I can show you if you want, they aren't that impressive."

He shifted, kicking dust. "You think Aunt Kate and my dad mess with each other like that because something happened?"

"Something?"

"Something sexual."

I puffed my cheeks and blew out a breath, opened my mouth, and paused.

"I need to sit down for this. "

Jack moved over, and we sat almost hip to hip with our backs to the wall.

"I'm going to blather so you don't think I'm hiding something." I said, "I asked my dad a few questions, and I could tell he wasn't comfortable saying anything, the way he never gave me a straight answer, so I tried to imagine the most taboo thing they could have done, and when."

The most taboo thing was fucking and Jack agreed when I said it. The second part, when, was trickier. Our families live far enough apart that I hadn't seen Jack in four years, and this had been the case for at least a decade. Jack confirmed his dad was home for dinner like clockwork.

"So the worst thing they could have done before we were born, maybe before they were married, was vagina sex. If that was two decades ago, why the dog and pony show now, and why would the family put up with it?"

"You don't think they fucked?"

I shook my head.

"I'm thinking they were accused of something." I said, "Maybe they were caught doing something that looked worse than it was, and the family, Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Ben, and Aunt Lily overreacted. This was their payback, and it took on a life of its own."

"Come on," Jack said, "You think they would go to all this trouble to rub everyone's noses in a 20-year-old misunderstanding?"

I snorted.

"I think that's what makes them so good at it." I said, "No, it's perfect, they were made center of attention with accusations and now they're hogging the limelight, to throw it right back at said accusers."

Jack let out a long, shaky exhale, shoulders noticeably dropping in relief.

"God, I needed to hear that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I kept thinking we were circling some awful family secret, like we'd end up finding out our parents had been doing something--really bad. But this... this makes sense."

He glanced at me, making me tingle with a grin breaking through the tension. He was talking to himself, but his hand was on my knee.

"So it's just--theater? A decades-old grudge match they're playing up for the crowd? That I can live with."

Jack shook his head, the color coming back to his cheeks.

"For a guy worried about his dad being into sister sex, you seem to be focused on something else."

I took Jack's puzzled look, reached between his legs, and grabbed the same boner I'd played with earlier.

"You should take care of this before your Aunt Abby adds you to her circus act."

"Do you want to watch?" He asked.

"Can you close your eyes so it's not weird for me?"

Jack's hand squeezed my leg, but he didn't answer right away.

"Will you close yours?" He asked.

The idea hit me harder than I expected. I put my hand on top of his, felt a hot flush crawl up my neck, equal parts shock and pride. Honestly, the thought that he might want to watch me, too, made my stomach flip. My mind scrambled for something clever or cool to say, but all I had was this shaky rush of adrenaline and awkward excitement.

"You... will masturbate right here with your eyes closed, then watch me do the same?"

Jack was a man of action. He kicked off his shoes, doffed his shorts and underwear in one motion, and used the fabric to cushion his knees that he spread wide, then closed his eyes.

"You should be able to see--everything. Just stay to the side or back so we don't have a bigger mess to clean up."

It was weird when he said it because I had seen porn before and of course guys jacking off for the money shot. This was a completely different experience. I glanced at him once when I stared at his privates. Seeing his eyes shut tight allowed me to relax and take in the experience. I stayed just behind him, like he'd asked, but close enough to see everything unfold. He's spit on his palm to lube his shaft.

That was hot.

It was so carnal--exposed in a way that most people, even lovers, never risk. There was no pretense, no performative arrogance. Just Jack, trusting me with all of it. Something was off, and he stopped stroking.

"Jill," He sighed, "I've got cottonmouth, can you spit in my palm?"

"Sure," I squeaked.

I was drooling so bad, this was easy, but the gesture connected us when I hocked a mouthful of spit into his palm, and a second time when I heard the wet squish of my saliva coating his shaft. It was all he needed. His stroking rate doubled. His mouth lolled, and his breathing hitched. I hyper focused on his vigorous fisting. Short moans punctuated every labored breath. His head tipped back. His breath and moans transformed into drawn-out squeezes like juicing a lemon.

Oh my God, he's gonna come. He's coming right now. His balls, shaft, and stomach moved in tandem as rope after rope paired with his groans.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh."

His fist moved so fast that the first rope landed more than six feet away, and the sixth fell short at three. My nerves fizzed, but the strangeness faded, replaced by awe. I watched the tension gather through his shoulders, in the curl of his toes, the way his breath quickened--small details I'd never known to look for. Inside my brain, a lightning bolt went off.

He kept stroking, more cum spit out like the dregs at the bottom of the cup. He fell backwards on his ass panting like he just sprinted a hundred meters. We made eye contact, and I saw vulnerability for the first time. I grabbed his hand. I had no idea what to say, but confidence I didn't know I had found me.

"Let's clean up and get you dressed." I said, "I hope you enjoy watching me as much as I enjoyed watching you."

Jack's armor cracked, and he kissed my hand,, slumped forward with a shaky laugh, eyes fluttering open, and the barest hint of a smile at the edge of his mouth. For a moment, we just breathed together. He dressed, and I wiped up his goo. After I threw the paper towels away, I took off my shoes, shorts, and top and laid them down to make a cushion, then took off my boyfriend, shorts and my bra. I sat with my knees bent and thighs spread.

"Jack, I tasted your cum before I threw away the paper towels. I did it when you weren't looking, but we shouldn't be like that."

"You can keep your eyes open, if you want."

I closed my eyes.

"Watch me, Jack, I trust you."

I didn't have any magical techniques or special abilities, like squirting. I rubbed my clit, squeezed my boob and fingered myself a little bit. Special abilities or not, my orgasm was Star-Spangled Banner, Fourth of July fireworks explosion worthy. It took me five minutes to climax and less than a minute to climax twice more, back-to-back.

My body melted into the spot I was sitting because I didn't have anywhere to flop like Jack did. I forced my eyes open and sucked in a surprised breath. Jack was lying on his belly, his shoulders were in line with my feet.

'You can go down on me if you want.' That was the first thing my brain whispered to me, but I didn't have the nerve to say it.

"Jack?"

He didn't answer, but I noticed the bewildered look on his face. He wasn't frozen. He sat up, but his expression didn't change until he spoke, and his lost look lingered afterwards.

"You're beautiful."

I stripped butt naked and masturbated in front of a boy I hadn't seen in four years and those two words were what made me blush.

"There are two doors on the root cellar, but you should probably get dressed," He said, "You were kind of loud."

Jack watched me dress like he was seeing a rainbow for the first time. I hugged him tightly afterwards.

"I don't want this to sound weird, but I've never felt like this around a guy."

"Felt like what?"

"Trusted."

He brushed his hand across my cheek, kissed me tenderly, then pulled me close until I yelped.

"I thought we took care of that?"

I pointed at his bulge.

"Happened as soon as you took off your shorts," He giggled, "It's fine, you've seen me deal with this already."

Jack didn't hesitate to show me his trust by dropping his shorts.

"Do you want me to..." I started, not even sure how to ask.

He swallowed hard, nodding, eyes darting to my face, then his shoes, then back to my face.

"Only if you want to."

I wasn't sure what I wanted, only that I was burning to know what he felt like--what he felt when he touched himself--and how I compared. I held his growing erection and hocked more drool directly onto his cock and use both hands to coat his shaft and balls.

"Please show me how to do this right before I break something."

Jack taught me more in two minutes about male anatomy than I had learned in twelve years of secondary school. His breath hitched when I wrapped my fingers around him. I tested his words about squeezing his shaft and cupping his balls. I even put a the tip of my finger in his butt.

"Yeah, I'm gonna come soon."

There were plastic baggies and rubber gloves for cleaning dishes, but I wanted nothing to be between us when I pushed him past the point of no return.

"Hold me."

Jack wrapped his arms around me, and I stroked him to orgasm. I fisted his cock under my shirt. I felt eight hot jets blast my chest and belly. I had an orgasm that was dwarfed by the tremors of Jack's full-body climax, shuddering through our embrace. The intensity of it startled me. I kissed him hard through the last two gushes of cum.

I wasn't thinking about myself, only how I could give him more. This wasn't just a handjob, we shared something as if my body had plugged into his. I couldn't breathe for a second, stunned by how much I'd wanted to feel that connection and how close it left us, pressed together in the quiet of the cellar.

Jack's head fell to my shoulder, breathless, and I held him for a moment before letting go.

"You're kind of amazing, you know that?" He said.

I shook my head, smiling through the echo of his release still pulsing inside me.

"I wanted to make you climax, but I think I felt it, too."

We didn't bother with words for a minute--just breathing, together.