Roberta Taylor

Nasty Sharon

CHAPTER ONE

Sharon sighed with pleasure, tingling sensations racing through her cunt, as her brother soaped her breasts.

She lay in a tub of warm water under a blanket of bubbles like whipped cream. Using washcloth and soap, Buddy had opened two holes in the white blanket, baring her rosy tits.

He slowly laved the floating sphere of her left breast. It kept bobbing away from his touch, but his caresses caused the nipple to harden.

Deep inside, Sharon felt a vaginal fluttering that made her want to arch her back and raise her seething split to his touch. But she restrained the urge.

Buddy whispered, "Sis, your boobs float."

She almost giggled. Was he just learning, at age eighteen, that tits floated? Well, he had only this week arrived home from military school, where the boys saw females only in girlie magazines. Still, at his age Sharon had known anatomy by sight, feel, taste, smell. Sharon was twenty now, and she viewed Buddy as a child, but an unusual child.

He knelt on the bathmat, leaning over her. He was baby-faced, with brush-cut blond hair. She wished his hair could grow out to yellow curls of hippie length. He would look adorable. But his summer vacation would be too short, and in the fall the military school would again shear his golden locks.

A hint of pale-colored hair on his chin served for beard. He looked so young that Sharon almost regretted having conned him into bathing her.

She was holding her hands out of the water. A strip bandage crossed each palm, supposedly hiding the bums from a hot kettle. A lie, but a white lie. He had to lose his cherry sometime.

Below the chin fuzz he seemed adult. His nude torso was husky, and the chopped-off jeans he wore as shorts contained a cock Sharon would not believe real if she had not yesterday seen him jerking off. She had watched him pull a prick worthy of a pony, a shiny pink curved rod that in her inflamed vision had seemed larger than her own forearm and fist.