I walked up the four wooden steps to the front door of the small, lake house, breathing heavily due to the increased altitude; the weathered wood panels and red tin roof beckoning me back to childhood summers spent in the splendor of calmness and nature. The lake, just behind the house, had provided hours of recreation and peace; and there I was, back at the beautiful body of water. I could feel the cool liquid running across my body as tangibly as if I had already dived in.

I arrived at the door seconds later, my mind still entranced in the ardor of gliding through the natural collection of liquid, my hand inches from the metal doorknob. Violently, the door swung inward, shattering the imagery of the lake and its quiet splendor. Two arms flung around me, and warm lips pressed against my own.

"Sam," Danielle spoke as soon as her lips had left my face, "I haven't seen you in like forever!"

"Yeah," I replied, stunned by the warmer-than-usual reception from my only sibling. "How've you been?"

Danielle rolled her eyes. Pleasantries never suited her. Standing only inches apart, I hadn't realized what my sister neglected in her apparel, until she stepped back.

"Danielle!" I grabbed her hand and pulled her inside the tiny, lake house. Shutting the door behind us, I continued, "You shouldn't be out there only in your underwear!"

"C'mon, Sam," she reasoned playfully, "There's no one around for miles."

I looked down at my older sister's outfit. Her tight, grey, V-neck, revealed the contour of her T-shirt bra, which ended half an inch above a black waistband. She lacked shorts, showing off her white, cotton boy briefs; a bit eccentric for a teenage girl.

"What's this for?" She pointed to the black trim that curved down the center of the briefs, not concerned at all about her attire, or lack of.

"That's the fly." I conceded. "It makes it easier to pee."

"Pee." Danielle giggled. "So you pull your- thing- through this tiny hole?"

"Those are for twelve year-olds." I rolled my eyes.

As she turned and left me at the door, my eyes fell to her toned glutes; the stretched fabric of the child's briefs clung insubstantially to the firm, prominent curves. I knew sibling salacity to be abhorent; nonetheless, my thoughts could not neglect the captivating splendor.

-----

"What took you so long?" I gazed at the perfect lake, its stillness and clearness entranced me; the click of the rear door of the house alerting me to my sister's late arrival.

"This stupid thing." Danielle's agitated voice growing as she walked toward me.

I turned my head around, not knowing what she was complaining about, and nearly fell backward.

In all our excursions, my parents had never allowed my sister to wear any swimsuit besides a one-piece, and technically she was wearing a one-piece. It was just missing half.

"I just don't feel anything on my back." Danielle turned, her acuteness lacking.

"There is no back." I quickly snapped my head forward, my cheeks as red as the newly-painted tin roof. "And there's only half a front." I mumbled.

"Oh," Danielle exhaled, as if she had been oblivious to the obvious.

The olive swimsuit was synonymous with her skin, the latter appearing more exotic than her genetics, and cut in two ribbons, connected at the chest with a thin, gold ring, that tapered to strands which tied behind the neck. The ribbons merged two inch below her navel, concealing only the most intimate. "Well, what do you think?"

I never understood why my sister asked me to judge her figure. According to me, there never existed any flaw. Her thin legs, flat abdominals, small breasts, angular shoulders, and lean arms constituted no objections and no reservations to her stunning body. And I know da Vinci hadn't seen Danielle's face, but everyone who did, either stared impolitely or took a third look. Her big, hazel eyes, modest, cute nose, unblemished cheeks, and juvenile lips framed by gorgeous, wavy, brown hair stunned me even now, after seeing her thousands of times. Leaving nothing to be desired, the epitome of beauty stood before me, asking for my opinion of her 19-year-old Grecian figure.

The protuberance in my swim briefs noticeably increased as incestuous thoughts flooded my young mind, and again, my face grew hot in the presence of my one-year-senior sibling. Her gaze gradually fell until it rested on the bulge that grew in my black briefs. My hands shot from my sides to my privates, as awkwardness ensued; Danielle's mouth left gaping.

Danielle giggled nervously.

"Um," I tried to break the palpable tension. "I'm gonna jump in."

-----

I heaved my wet body back on the slick wood and turned to lay in the sun. The fulfilling swim had drowned my insecurities and embarrassment, replacing them with fulfillment. I drew in deep gulps of breath as I let my body warm in the rays of light. After a long minute, I stood and gathered myself as I made my way to the house.

As I glided to my room, I noticed Danielle with her nose and mind deep within a Jane Austen novel, her legs curled up into her chest on the white couch. I pushed the door, attempting to close it behind me, and slipped my thumbs inside the waistband of my swim briefs.

"Are you circumcised?" My sister's voice rang clear, not muffled by a wooden door.

"Yeah," I replied, removing my thumbs from inside my swimsuit.

"Can I see it?" The very words I dreaded.

"See what?" I asked, knowing full well the desire of Danielle's improper inquiry.

"You know," she frowned, closing the door behind her. "Your penis." Danielle's shame in asking and naming it properly apparent in her meek tone and posture.

I retreated to the corner opposite the door, the heat of her eyes overbearing, and pulled the waistband away from my skin to peer down at my manhood. Letting it snap back to my body, I faced Danielle, whose hand was on the doorknob, ready to retreat.

"Wait." I abruptly called.

No one had seen my privates since I was seven. My parents had taught me the importance of intimate parts and clothing. For the past decade, I observed this doctrine with exactness, the only exception being in the doctor's office. No one else had ever asked, especially so explicitly.

Danielle turned toward me, aware of the inappropriateness of her inquiry. Her head slumped, and her arms awkwardly turned inward ending in palms pressed together. She looked up at me as if I were to sentence her to some harsh punishment.

I sighed, resigning to reply favorably to her indecent request. If I could confide in anyone, Danielle had earned my trust. To deny her of this simple, yet perverted, request, would be hiding. Once again, I tugged at the waistband of my swim briefs and peered down. Slowly, I extended my arm until the briefs no longer served an adequate purpose. I felt my face heat up as I realized the inappropriateness of disclosing my intimates to my sister. Turning shamefully, I returned the waistband to its rightfully-named place.

I stood still, waiting for the door to click twice; the fulfillment of her request constituting an exit of the spectator in my mind; every moment an eternity. Anxiety drove me to turn my head after infinities of naive guilt. Stunned, I viewed Danielle quietly standing, centered in the room; her eyes wide, her demeanor curious.

"Sam," she gently addressed, "Was that... it?"

I faced the wall again, my cheeks flush at the mention of my genitals. I felt Danielle's hand on my bare shoulder, but didn't acknowledge it.

"I've never seen one, so," Danielle explained; her fingers and words delicate, just like her lips.

"You haven't?" I asked doubtfully. I paused, then added, "Dr. Woods says it's small for my age."

"It's modest, compared to what I've heard," she admitted, giggling softly. "And not repulsive, but cute. Can I see it again?"

Imbued with approval, I removed the black swimwear to reveal my genitalia for a second time. My puny penis extended a mere two inches out from my groin, above two marble-sized testicles held tightly in a sac of wrinkly skin. Childlike, my genitals were completely void of hair and lacked the scale of the average post-pubescent male, yet I took confidence in my sister's praise.

Danielle ogled my manhood, bending her legs and leaning forward to get a better look. She pointed at my little testicles and repeated her giggle, increasing my embarrassment and arousal.

"What's it like, having a penis?" she asked excitedly.

"Like being a boy." I answered, turning sheepishly to conceal my rigid member; my conscience catching up to the excitement.

"No. I mean," Danielle looked at me funny, contorting her lips. "Do you.. touch it?"

"Yeah." I quietly affirmed while my swim briefs retreated back to their appropriate height.

Danielle sat on the edge of the bed, her thoroughness seemingly unlimited. She stared at my privates, her eyes fondling them gently behind my swim briefs.

"When?" Danielle asked.

"When I pee." My tone indicating the absurdity of her inquiry.

"I know that!" Danielle rolled her eyes. "Do you," she mulled for the word, "play with it?"

I paused, not wanting and not knowing how to explain masturbation to my sister, though Doctor Woods, a female, explained it to me. I stared down at the floor, the direction of discussion threatening to expose the confidential experience of adolescent indiscretion. Exposure of the truth would leave me void of the little dignity I still held.

"Do you masturbate?" Danielle asked after moments of silence; the word escaping her lips and crushing me.

"Yeah." I admitted uncomfortably, affixing my gaze downward.

"Can I watch?"

I looked at my sister directly. Her honest intent pierced me and I hesitated to answer. Doctor Woods had asked me about masturbation. She assured me that the practice was normal among my peers, and, as long as I kept it private, acceptable. I had already stepped into the unacceptable, the reprehensible, the immoral. Yet to employ this method of stimulation in the presence of a sibling brought my conscience back into clear focus, consigning my incestuous fantasies back to the confines of my mind.

My chin slowly fell to my chest in shame as I shook my head mutedly.

"Oh," Danielle surrendered. "Is that too personal?"

I nodded, my eyes descending to the little erection stuck inside my swim briefs. I knew, when my sister left, the impossibility of denying such gratification.

After a few moments, she turned as if to exit and immediately my hand fell to fondle the phallus I consciously left neglected. I watched eagerly as Danielle moved silently toward the door, my patience running thin as I again tugged the waistband down naively. As she reached the door, she turned her head, and there was nothing I could do.

I halted. The knuckle of my thumb brushing against my scrotum and I groaned at the faint touch; arousal begging to become something more. My right hand quivered, dangerously close to my erection, which no longer could be ignored. My eyes broke from my sister's as a bead of pre-ejaculatory fluid grew at the urethral opening. Staring at the clear liquid and my engorged phallus, my moral fortitude failed. I let my knuckle rest against my tightening sack, square between the testicles. I looked up at Danielle, my eyes pleading with her to leave, yet her eyes and my fingers refused to depart from the horrifying specimen of aroused genitalia.

Heat provoked me forward in manipulation, despite the unsuitable company. Delicately, I turned my hand over, the waistband of my swim briefs rubbing against my knuckles until it concealed half my hand. I placed my thumb opposite my middle finger and gently grasp the thick skin, pushing my testicles outward and upward. Shifting my thumb and finger over my left testicle, I squeezed again, the marble jumping inward, leaving only scrotal skin in my grasp. I looked up to view the sole spectator's reaction. Her eyes fixed on my groin as I repeated the practice, each sequence adding to the anticipation of orgasm.

"Mmm," I groaned, my hand departing from my scrotum.

I shuddered as my thumb grazed my extended shaft; its smoothness unquestionably inviting. My index and middle finger curled under my penis, contacting the ventral ridge, blanketing me deep in arousal. I glanced up, my sister's gaze anchored to the action; our attention strictly involved in the intricacies of male masturbation.

I moaned as I allowed my fingertips to trace the edges of the ventral ridge up my short shaft until they glanced the corona; my sibling's presence enhancing the replicated event ten times over. The bead of pre-ejaculatory fluid had grown and spilled over my urethral opening, leaving a thick, shiny streak on the side of my little glans. It clung helplessly to the underside of the corona, begging me to play with it. I pressed the tip of my index finger gently into the bead until it broke and I ran my wet fingertip around the corona, gasping for an end to the anticipation. Releasing my erect penis, my body shuddered violently.

"I can't," I stammered, desperately attempting to remove my swim briefs; my eyes begging my sister to leave before orgasm.

"Can't what?" Danielle spoke, alarmed at my pause in manipulation.

"I can't," I sputtered, giving up on my attempt and leaving my briefs at my knees, my hands in the air. "I can't. I can't... do it with you here."

Danielle stepped toward me, her body dangerously close, "You can't what, Sam?"

I jumped backwards, my back hitting the wall. Dropping my hands, I screamed as the waves of orgasm crashed down. Horrified, I viewed my Lilliputian penis convulse, dreading the inevitable feeling of semen traveling up my urethra. I moaned as a string of warm white torpedoed out my male member, arcing to the height of my chest before splattering on the floor in front of Danielle. I groaned as another contraction hit, followed by another streak of ejaculate exiting my urethra, echoing the path of the first.

Terror filled the room, as I waved frantically for Danielle to leave, but she just stood bewildered. I couldn't grasp my penis, as I usually would during ejaculation; reprehension washing over me as I watched the thick cream emerge from my urethral opening and ooze down my glans like the slow passage of train cars. As the dribble of semen ceased, I breathed heavily, my knees about to buckle under me; my horrified eyes mirroring those of my sibling's.

"I'm sorry" I apologized to her, my fists still clenched from the intense torment of ejaculation. I had allowed Danielle to violate my private sphere seconds too long, and now realized the eternal price of such a perverted misstep. I cried again, "I'm sorry," but I knew no matter how many times I said it, the obscenity of my actions remained permanent. I could never undo the abhorrent. I could never take back the incredibly incestuous climax of ejaculate now seared in Danielle's memory.

Danielle stood blankly, comprehension of the reprehensible act eluding her. She gazed, dumbfounded, at my defiled groin; the cream-colored ejaculate in contrast to the flesh of the penis. A timid "it's okay," escaped her trembling lips as she tore her gaze away from my reprehensible penis. Then she quietly walked to the door and turned the knob, leaving the door open behind her, letting the world recognize my repugnant state of post-public, incestuous orgasm.

I crumpled to the floor, my head buried in my hands and shame. Guilt bathed me and I sobbed quietly.

"It's okay." I heard a soft, consoling voice.

Danielle had returned, a damp washcloth in hand, and a concerned look graced her gorgeous face. She carefully stepped over the patches of fresh semen on the wood floor and sat next to me.

I looked into her caring eyes, trying to explain myself without words.

"It's okay, Sam." she echoed once more, placing her hand on my arm. "Let's put this behind us and clean you up."

I nodded and stood, reaching down for the washcloth, but Danielle shook her head.

"I don't mind," she spoke, transitioning to her knees.

"I can't let you do this," I called out in desperation, a tear of embarrassment crawling down my cheek.

"It's alright, Sam," Danielle whispered. "I'll take care of you. This will be our little secret."

She pressed the washcloth against my inner thigh; the heat calming and distressing all at once. As Danielle eased the damp cloth toward my genitalia, I squirmed. Silence ensued as the warm washcloth touched my scrotal sack; my eyes fixed on the wall. It moved gently across my testicles, contacting the underside of my penis as I winced and stood on my toes. I tried not to think of the hand that held the washcloth, drawing my mind back to the white wall, looking for some distraction; squirming uncomfortably when my attention fell to Danielle's hand against my rigid member.

"It's alright, Sam," Danielle reassured, wiping the semen off of my glans in a smooth stroke.

I again collapsed, finally able to hide my intimates, as Danielle turned her attention to the spots on the floor. When she finished, she quietly escaped.