by Karin Halle
Part 1 – DISCOVERING
By the time I reached the age of fifteen, it concerned me that I’d not yet had my first period. Other aspects of my development from child to woman seemed quite normal. My breasts, although not huge, were a reasonable size and a nice shape, topped by lovely little pink nipples. I had a tuft of fine, fair hair on my mons, my hips and buttocks were well rounded, and my legs were nicely shaped.
It was much too embarrassing to talk to anybody about this issue with my period. By that time my friends were all on a regular cycle, so menstruation was no longer even the topic of conversation that it had been a few years earlier. There was no way I could talk to my mother Cindy about things like that; it would have been far too awkward for both of us. My sister April had even started hers, and she was only thirteen, so I couldn’t take my problem to her – no way! And our family doctor is a cranky, conservative old man; no help at all to a scared, embarrassed teenage girl. I felt totally alone.
There was one teacher at school I might have been able to speak to. I didn’t think she was too old, probably no more than thirty or so, but it was essential that I speak to her privately, and I’d never had the chance. And then it was the school holidays, so I wouldn’t even see her for weeks.
Then I learned one day that a mobile breast screening centre would be in town the following week. Normally they just do breast exams, but at least it was staffed by women’s health specialists. I figured that even if they couldn’t help, they would surely be able to tell me who I should see instead.
I was excited at the opportunity, but also frightened… so my nerves were on edge for the whole weekend. Mum asked me several times if something was wrong. Of course, I didn’t tell her anything.
A couple of days after the clinic opened, I summoned up my courage and went to the car park where their trailer was parked. I looked around to ensure that nobody I knew was in the immediate vicinity to see me, then took a deep breath and went in. The women in the waiting room were all middle aged or old, but at least they were strangers.
The receptionist was a little surprised that someone my age was there, but she was sympathetic, even though I didn’t go into detail about why I needed to see a doctor. Since I wasn’t queuing for a breast scan, I only had to wait a short time before I was sent into the small consulting area. I was hugely relieved to see that the doctor was a woman. She was in her mid-twenties, named Shweta Jamiri.
We exchanged introductions, and then I told her about my problem. She listened to what I had to say, then asked questions about my adolescence and development. She also asked similar questions about my mum, which I couldn’t answer, and about April, which I could. Like the receptionist, she was kind and sympathetic, constantly reassuring me, which made everything a little bit easier.
Finally, Shweta told me that it would be necessary for her to do a pelvic examination. Of course, I’d expected that, but I still became quite agitated. Nobody had ever done anything like that to me. She knew I was scared, and explained what it was all about — which helped a little, though not much.
Shweta stepped outside while I slipped my briefs off and lay down on the examination table, then she came back in. She talked to me in a soothing tone as she checked all around my external genitals, telling me what she was doing and why. Then she said, “I’ll need to spread your labia open, sweetie, so I can examine you on the inside.”
Inside!
I felt a shiver of dread.
Although it had been years since I’d first discovered the joy of masturbation, I only ever touched myself on the outside. I’d never penetrated myself, or even opened my vagina, because I didn’t want to damage my hymen.
I couldn’t help bursting into tears. It was shameful to me, behaving like a baby in front of the doctor, but Shweta managed to calm me, promising to be gentle.
Admitting it was rather unprofessional, she fingered my labia a bit, to relax me and generate enough natural lubrication to make her task easy. There was no way I was going to complain about that, because it did help.
Then Shweta parted my lips and took a long look inside. Just from watching her, I could see that something wasn’t quite right. Stripping off her rubber gloves while I got dressed, Shweta told me that she wanted some special MRI scans done, and asked me to come back the next morning with my mum.
That got me upset again, and I told Shweta that I would prefer to come on my own. She explained that because of my age, I had to have parental consent for the procedure, so I finally agreed, already dreading the conversation I would be having that night with my mother.
I won’t go into detail about how that went, except to say that it wasn’t as humiliating as I’d feared — Mum was completely supportive, even a little peeved that I’d kept my condition hidden from her for so long. At any rate, she was by my side at the trailer the following morning.
I introduced Mum to Shweta, who told us that she’d arranged for me to receive priority at the radiology lab. Not that it was an emergency, but because she was leaving town at the end of the week. She got Mum to appoint her as my special doctor, and gave her papers to sign, consent forms and other things. I didn’t know what most of them were about.
Shweta even accompanied Mum and me to the radiology lab, explaining the procedure along the way. The need to have these scans at all had me feeling very unsettled, and this urgency just made it worse, but when Shweta told me what the scans involved, it didn’t seem so bad. I was glad that she chose to wait with Mum while they were done.
When all the scans were completed, Shweta looked at the images and the radiologist’s report, then asked if there was somewhere private we could go to discuss the results. Mum suggested a nearby café, or our house. Shweta said that our place might be best, as it offered privacy and familiar surroundings.
If it hadn’t been for the doctor’s calm demeanour, I might have become upset again, fearing the worst… but she assured me with a smile that I didn’t have a terminal disease and wasn’t about to die. So I was reassured, for the moment at least.
When we were seated comfortably at home, with cups of hot tea, Shweta got down to business, speaking directly to me as if I was an adult, which I appreciated. What she said, though, shocked me to the core.
“Here’s what’s going on with you, Melody. These scans indicate that your reproductive system didn’t fully develop when you were a foetus. This condition isn’t widely known to the public, but it’s not at all rare. It’s called MRKH, after the team of German doctors who identified it. Their names are tricky to pronounce, so we just go with their initials.
“In people with MRKH, the reproductive organs are absent, or only partly formed. In your case, there is no uterus, cervix or vagina.”
Mum must have realised the implications of that statement, because she gasped out loud and put a hand to her mouth. I was still uncertain of what all of this meant, but Shweta was about to make that all too clear.
“Without a uterus, Melody, you will never be able to carry children.” She paused to let that sink in. I wasn’t especially devastated, but Shweta had more to say. “And without a vagina, I’m afraid that having sexual intercourse will be, well, very difficult for you.”
When I heard that, I let out with a little cry, then I burst into uncontrolled sobs. Mum took me in her arms, whispering, “Oh, baby… oh, sweetheart.” She was crying, too.
The sound of my weeping brought my little sister April racing into the room. She had no idea what was happening, and looked frantically from Mum and I to Shweta, then back. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” she said, beginning to cry herself without even knowing why. Mum held out an arm to April, who joined us on the couch, nestling into our shared embrace.
Shweta waited patiently until we began to regain some composure. Then Mum took April into another room to explain the situation to her, giving me the chance to speak to Shweta confidentially.
Appreciating that I was uncertain about what questions I wanted to ask, Shweta began the conversation. “Do you know about the female reproductive system, Melody? The various organs, and what they do?”
My response was not confident, but I did say, “Well, yeah. We had sex education at school. And some of my friends talk about it…” I had nothing else to offer. For the first time, I realized just how limited my knowledge of sexuality was. It always seemed like something I’d be doing in the future, not anytime soon.
Shweta understood. “But nothing in any detail?” I shook my head in reply, suddenly feeling like an immature kid.
Just then, April ran back in, threw herself on the couch and wrapped both arms around me. She was trembling, clearly shaken by the news. Mum came back too, though she remained standing.
Shweta glanced at Mum and April, then back at me. “Do you need to continue this in private, Melody?”
I shook my head. “No… they should hear this, too.”
So the doctor picked up where we’d left off, going through the basic anatomy of female reproduction. Then she got to the significant parts, the ones related to my condition. I wasn’t eager to hear any of this, but listened in a morose silence. “A fertilised egg grows inside the uterus, becoming a foetus, then a baby. Without that uterus, or womb, it isn’t possible for a baby to grow.”
She paused as we digested that, then added, “That’s why you don’t menstruate, Melody. But you will, at least, be producing ova, as well as female hormones… the same as all your friends.”
I gave a bitter laugh. Practically none of this was like what my friends would experience.
As if I hadn’t reacted at all, Shweta continued. “You do have ovaries, which means you do have eggs. It may be possible for those eggs to be harvested, then fertilised by your future partner to create an embryo. That can be inserted into a surrogate mother, to carry through to birth. It’s been done successfully many times, although whether it’s possible in your specific case, it’s too early to say.”
Somebody else carrying a baby of mine – the very idea seemed ridiculous. Again, though, I wasn’t really upset about that, having never felt the urge to be a mother. “None of that is an issue for right now, anyway,” Shweta added. She didn’t know how right she was.
However, there was something else very important on my mind. “What about s-sex?” I managed to stammer, now almost completely oblivious to the presence of my mum and little sister.
“People with MRKH are affected in different ways, and that means different potential solutions,” Shweta began. So far, so good. “In your case, the external genitals are present… but as I said, there is no vagina or vaginal opening. Therefore, penetrative sex would not be possible.”
A gasp followed, this time from April.
Suddenly I felt that I wasn’t a woman at all. Barely a girl, really.
But Shweta was still talking and, knowing it was important, I concentrated on hearing what she had to say.
“You do seem to respond to stimulation of the vulva, which is a good thing. Tell me, Melody — do you masturbate?”
Oh. My. GOD. Incapable of reacting to such a humiliating question, made all the worse by having Mum and April there, I blushed and stared at the floor.
When Mum patted my shoulder, I finally managed to whisper, “Yes…”
“And does it feel good?” Shweta asked.
At that point, I wished I’d never gone to see Shweta in the first place, much less come back for more. I couldn’t answer this time, not even with a nod of the head.
Shweta understood, I know, but she apparently needed me to respond. “It’s okay, Melody. There’s nothing wrong with it, you know. Everybody masturbates, particularly teenagers.”
Seeing my hesitation, wanting to be supportive, April piped up. “I do! It’s great.”
Mum didn’t get upset with her or anything, so I felt a little less uncomfortable. My answer, once again, was barely audible. “It… it feels good,” I said.
“Proving that you can experience sexual arousal, and enjoy it.” Shweta sounded almost triumphant.
And for me? Good to hear? Well, naturally! But how was I supposed to react with Mum seated behind me? I’d never been able to talk to friends about sex, much less my mum or little sister. Now here it was, out on the table, a topic for open family discussion.
And Shweta wasn’t even finished! “It won’t be possible for a boyfriend to penetrate you, but you can achieve orgasm by having him do things to you, the kind that you do for yourself. In fact, you’ll probably get more pleasure from that than he will!” She chuckled at that.
I wasn’t laughing… in fact, I was praying that the floor would open and swallow me whole.
“And of course, there’s always oral sex, or anal.” April made a spluttering sound; Mum was silent.
If she says one more embarrassing thing, I told myself, I’m going to run out of here screaming.
“Before you get to that, though, you need to have a detailed discussion with a specialist. I’ll give you a referral to one, and you’ll be able to discuss your options going forward, along with anything else you need to know about your condition — physical, emotional and sexual. Any questions?”
I’m sure we all had heaps of those, but I was unable to focus on anything else right then. More general discussion followed, but I was zoned out. If I participated, I have no recollection of it.
Not that any of us had noticed, but by then, it was the middle of the afternoon. Shweta was due back at the mobile clinic, so she left us. Before making an exit, we exchanged our contact details, and she got our promise that we would call her if we needed to discuss anything further.
Part 2 – COPING
Glum silence was the dominant characteristic of the house for that entire afternoon and evening. I wasn’t hungry, and went to bed early – then I found I was unable to sleep.
Suddenly wanting to see what all the fuss was about, I grabbed a hand mirror, removed my panties and took a look at myself. Not knowing exactly what to look for, I still managed to conclude that, just as Shweta had said, everything on the outside was in order. Then I parted my labia, only to realise that they didn’t spread very far apart.
At the top, the little bud that I knew was my clitoris was visible, mostly concealed by its protective hood. Below that, I could barely perceive the opening to my urethra, but precious little else. Unsure of what to think, I finally crawled back into bed, not bothering to put my panties back on.
I said nothing to April when she came in to go to bed herself. Something told me that she wanted to talk about my condition, and I simply wasn’t in the mood for it. Finally, with a quiet sigh, she slipped into her bed and settled in for the night.
A few minutes later Mum opened the door, just to check on us — well, actually on me. I looked up at her when I heard the door open and she whispered, “It’ll be okay, honey. Try not to worry too much about it. And remember — if you need anything, I’m always here for you.” Seeing me nod in reply, she closed the door and went to her room.
I lay awake for – well, I didn’t look at the clock, so I had no idea what the time was. Eventually, though, I realised that I needed my mum. I got up, wearing nothing but an extra-large t-shirt, and went to her room, opening the door quietly in case she was asleep. Unsurprisingly, she was also awake..
“Mummy,” I began, addressing her that way for the first time since I was a little girl. “I can’t sleep. Can I, um, get in with you?” Even now, I recall the pleading tone that was in my voice.
By way of reply, she held up a corner of the bedclothes, inviting me in. “Sure you can, baby girl. Like I said, I’m here for you. I always will be.”
I slipped into bed and snuggled against her. The warmth, the feel of my mother next to me, the knowledge that I didn’t have to face my future without support — if it didn’t make everything right, at least it made things seem more manageable. Though it remained unspoken, I appreciated the fact that Mum hadn’t freaked out during the earlier discussions about sex at the doctor’s office.
Mum divorced my father about twelve years ago when she found out he was doing some girl at his work. She’d been on a few dates since then, but hadn’t seemed keen to get into another relationship. I thought about that for the first time in a while when Mum said, very quietly, “Melody, sweetheart, you know that Dr Jamiri, Shweta, is right, about masturbation, I mean… everybody does it.”
At first I failed to make the connection — then it hit me. To say I was stunned goes nowhere near describing my reaction. Raising my head, I stared at her.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” she confirmed. “It’s just that it’s extremely personal and private. And it’s nobody else’s business but yours. Same for me, same for April.”
Neither of us had been aware of it, but April had also been unable to sleep. When I left our room and didn’t return, she came looking for me. And as she passed Mum’s room, she heard her name mentioned.
“What’s my business?” she asked, sticking her head around the door.
“Um, we were just talking about some of the stuff that Dr Shweta said,” I told her.
“About masturbation,” Mum clarified.
“Oh,” was April’s only reaction.
“Mel couldn’t sleep, and asked if she could snuggle with me,” Mum continued.
Nodding in agreement, April said, “I couldn’t sleep either.”
Mum was amused, reading her younger daughter like a book. “Do you want to get in, too?”
April didn’t need the bedclothes to be held up. Without a word she scampered around to the other side of Mum’s bed and got in next to her.
Mum put an arm around each of us. “Oh, my baby girls,” she cooed. “We used to do this when you two were little. Remember? We always said that, long as we’re together, everything will turn out all right.”
By my recollection, the last time we snuggled up like this was right after Mum and Dad had split up.
“April was just a baby,” Mum said in a dreamy tone, losing herself in memories. “I was still nursing her. And you, Melody,” she added with a chuckle, “you wanted to breastfeed a baby, too. You’d sit beside me, take off your top and hold your baby doll up to your chest like you were nursing it,.” Actually, I had no memory of that, although I do remember the doll, my favourite, that I called Lalla — short for ‘lullaby’.
“And sometimes at night when April needed to be fed, you’d wake up too and want me to nurse you, too. You aren’t supposed to breastfeed a child once they’ve been weaned, but I couldn’t see the harm in it.” She was silent for a long moment. “It felt so good. Relaxing, natural. Both my girls feeding from me! It’s such a loving experience.” She fell silent; I don’t know why — perhaps she’d just remembered that I would never know that feeling.
I lay my head on her chest and sighed wistfully. “Sometimes, I wish I was a little girl again. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about this stupid condition of mine — MG, MK, ABCD. Whatever it’s called.”
Mum’s voice almost broke as she tried to comfort me. “Oh, baby girl, I know. I wish that, too!” After a moment’s hesitation, she withdrew her arm from around my shoulder. I wondered what she was doing… then a shiver raced through me when Mum opened the front of her nightie, baring her breasts.
I’m sure she was acting on instinct when she bared her chest, just as I was when I put my mouth to her nipple and began to suck.
“Darling, you know I can’t really feed you,” she told me, even sounding apologetic.
I briefly lifted my mouth from her nipple. “I know, Mummy, but we can pretend, can’t we? Just like I did with Lalla.”
“Of course we can, sweetheart,” she lovingly replied, and I took her nipple between my lips again.
Perhaps feeling a bit neglected, April timidly asked, “Me, too?”
“Yes, my precious, of course!” Mum replied, and April took her other breast.
Mum sighed contentedly, as we play-nursed from her. Now we were in a simpler place, a happier, more innocent time. And we were together, the three of us. We laid nestled like that for a long time. How long, none of us knew — or cared.
It was long enough for the three of us all to fall asleep, though.
The next day, Saturday, passed in something of a fog for me. Uninterested in catching up with friends, I stayed home and researched MRKH on the internet, not that there was much available. For the rest of the day, I basically lazed around.
Mum visited my room several times but didn’t push me, except to offer a reminder that if I wanted to talk, or just needed some company, I only had to ask. I appreciated that, but needed to get my head around this whole situation before I could discuss it with anyone, even my mother.
By evening, my appetite had finally returned, and the family had dinner together as usual, but once again I elected to turn in early. Which isn’t to say that I found it any easier to fall asleep.
An hour or so later, April came in and began to prepare for bed. She was very quiet, trying not to disturb me. It was thoughtful of her, so I didn’t let on that I was still awake. Judging by the number of times my sister turned over after she got into bed, she was obviously as restless as I was.
Eventually, we both rolled over at the same time and found ourselves face to face, eyes wide open. We shared a nervous laugh.
“You okay?” she asked. “It’s a lot to deal with, I bet..”
“Yeah, I guess,” I told her. “I mean… I’d already figured something was wrong, even if I didn’t know what. Or that it was as major as it is.” I sighed.
“I’m not trying to be a jerk, I swear,” April said after a brief silence, “but… um, I mean… couldn’t you tell…?”
Her embarrassment amused me. I finished the question for her. “That something was missing down there, you mean?” She nodded, and even in the dim moonlight spilling through the window, I could see that her eyes were big and round.
“No. All the outside bits are there, and they’re all normal.”
“Could I… I mean, would you mind…?” She fumbled for the right words, finally going silent..
More embarrassment for her, more amusement for me, and once again I completed her sentence. “Will I show you?”
April gave a vigorous nod. “Yeah, please. I mean, if you don’t, like, mind or anything. It’s just that I’m, um, kinda curious, and… and…” I always find it funny when my little sister gets flustered, maybe because it doesn’t happen very often.
I switched on my bedside light and swivelled around to face April, while she sat up, ready to see what I had to show. Raising the t-shirt I wear as a nightie, I hoisted my knees in the air and spread my thighs apart. I remember thinking that it was just like I was positioned when Dr Shweta first examined me.
April took a long look, then shrugged. “It all looks normal to me.”
Another chance to make my sister uncomfortable had just been presented to me… and I’m afraid that I took full advantage of it, saying, “And just how do you know what a normal girl’s pussy looks like?”
April turned the colour of a ripe tomato. Her mouth going tight, she leapt up and stomped back to her bed, where she lay down, curled into a little ball.
I instantly regretted my words. Getting up and going over to my sister’s bed, I lay down and wrapped both arms around her. “Sorry, April,” I told the back of her head . “I don’t mean to be such a bitch. These last few days have been rough, but that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you.” Giving her a squeeze, I added, “Do you still want to see me? You can if you want.”
She said nothing, but I felt her relax a little bit. I got up and padded back over to my own bed, where I sat back against the headboard, then spread my legs as far apart as they could go. As if I was offering myself up to my little sister.
Maybe she was still pissed off at me, but I knew how difficult it was for my little sister to restrain her curiosity. Sure enough, she came back, kneeling beside the bed to get a good look.
As she studied my vulva again, I told her, “It’s the inside that’s different. If you really want to get a good look, you might, uh, need to…” I wasn’t sure how to say it, but figured that April must know what she needed to do in order to be able to see inside me.
She did. I felt the lightest touch of her fingers as she gently spread my labia open, then peered inside. “Oh. My. GOD. There’s nothing there!” she exclaimed, looking up at me with astonished eyes.
“Well… that’s sort of the problem.”
“Okay, I see your pee-hole,” April said. Then she touched me, and I felt a warm surge of pleasure that made my head spin. “And your clit’s there!”
“Thank God for that,” I said. “At least I’m able to get myself off.”
“So… you’ve done it before?” she asked.
No point in keeping it a secret now, I thought, not with her face mere inches from my pussy!
“I — I haven’t,” I admitted. “Oh, I’ve played around a bit, and rubbed myself. And once I even had somebody else rub me.” I didn’t tell her it was Shweta. By then. I suspected that April had far more experience than I did, despite being a couple of years younger. “But I’ve never come before.”
She was shocked, to put it mildly. “Oh, shit. Wow. I had no idea.”
Boundaries had been crossed. Actually, they’d more or less collapsed. My sister’s feather-light touch, the way she was staring at my girly bits with such obvious interest (are mine even qualified to be called ‘girly bits?’ Yes, damn it, they are!), and all the talk about sex I’d had over the last few days… it was all starting to arouse me. I hadn’t expected that, but wasn’t bothered by it either.
To this day, I wonder if that arousal was what caused me to say what I did just then.
“Um, April? Can I see yours, too?” I asked, feeling completely awkward about it, but I didn’t let a stammer betray me. “So I’ll know what, well, y’know, what’s different about me. And it’s only fair, because you’ve seen me, right?” I added, almost pleading with her.
My sister showed not an iota of discomfort or bashfulness at my request. In fact, she seemed downright eager to undress for me. April reached up under the extra-large t-shirt she used for a nightie and yanked down the boy’s boxer shorts she slept in, then lay down, taking up the same position that I’d adopted, her legs wide apart.
Kneeling before my sister, I gazed at the junction of her thighs. Never having seen another girl up close, I was fascinated by the view before me. At first, I saw nothing that seemed especially distinctive, except that her pubes were darker than mine, but equally sparse. Like she’d done to me, I hesitantly touched her labia, then parted them to see what they hid.
The difference was immediately apparent. April’s sex was a lovely pink lily. Mine was a flower that had withered before it had the chance to bud.
It hit me like a blow to the stomach. “Oh, God!” I gasped, and quickly stood. I was shaken to the quick, and didn’t want to see any more. Sitting back down, I stared at my hands.
April quickly sat up, then reached out to touch my shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
I slowly nodded, knowing it was a lie. In fact, I felt like some kind of freak; not a real girl at all. Unsure of what to do or say. I slumped down on the bed.
“I’m so sorry, Mel,” I heard April say. “This totally sucks. God, I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.”
I was on the verge of saying something mundane like Thanks, sis, I really appreciate that… but then, an idea popped into my head. It was a pretty twisted notion, maybe even perverted — but the more I turned it over in my mind, the more attractive it seemed.
After days of brooding about how messed up I was inside, then seeing the proof of it first-hand, I longed for some sense of normality, to know that I could be like other girls. Maybe my little sister could help me with that…?
“Um, April, could you maybe… touch me there some more?”
It wasn’t exactly about sex, you understand. More than anything, I needed to be sure that the girl parts I did have worked the way they were supposed to.
I wasn’t sure how April would respond, but she wasn’t at all bothered by my request. “Sure,” was her reply. “Lie back down.”
I arranged myself like before, exposing my sex to her. Reaching out, April gently traced my slit with the tip of her index finger. I gasped — the sensation was heavenly!
She continued to fondle me, using two fingers to glide up and down through my labia. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter with each caress, warm fluid oozing down into the crack of my arse. Each time her finger ran upward, she brushed my clitoris before starting the down stroke.
I was astonished by how good my sister was at this, the skill she brought to the task. Her hand seemed to know everything about how to make me feel wonderful. She’s practically still a kid! I told myself. When did April learn how to do this?
Suddenly she broke contact with me — and it was only knowing Mum was just down the hall that kept me from crying out in frustration. I was just about to beg my sister not to stop when she brought her other hand into play. Now she was rubbing my pussy and toying with my clit at the same time, and those sensations went from great to incredible.
So many things were happening to me at once — April’s touch; the realization that I was capable of receiving sexual pleasure; how crazy it was to know that my own underage sister was doing this to me; the joy I felt after days of misery… it was all too much to take. All of a sudden my body was caught up in these wonderful feelings, flooding through me like I’d been poured full of liquid sunshine.
For the first time in my life, I was truly experiencing the joy of sexual rapture. My very first orgasm. And I didn’t want it to stop.
It was such a mental overload that I burst into tears. I hugged April to me, clinging to her tightly, and she hugged me back, letting me get everything out of my system, if only for the moment. And she continued to fondle my pussy, keeping those sweet sensations coming.
At the same time, my emotions were running wild. Anxiety. Satisfaction. Reassurance. Confusion. Maybe even guilt. My body kept responding to April’s intimate touch — a gift so precious, I didn’t know how to accept it. I’m sure I sobbed for ages, and my sister held me the whole time.
When I’d recovered enough to speak, I kept whispering “Thank you,” over and over. She smiled, held my face between her hands, and kissed the tears away from my cheeks.
“Can I do that to you now?” I asked, keen to give April the same pleasure that she’d given me.
“I did that because my big sister needed it,” she told me. “You shouldn’t feel that you have to–”
I quickly shushed her. “I want to,” I protested. “I want to… to see what it’s like for you.”
To allow April no opportunity to refuse my wishes, I kissed her firmly on the mouth. She immediately kissed me back, teasing my lower lip with her tongue. Instead of opening my mouth to accept her tongue, I broke away, impatient to touch my sister, and got on all fours above her.
She looked up at me and asked, “Are you sure?” as if she wasn’t quite sure herself. Gazing into her eyes. I nodded once, and she slowly parted her legs. Once again, I was struck by how beautiful her pussy was.
Never having attempted anything like this before, I let myself be guided by what April had done to me. I ran my fingers along her slit — first on the outside, then between the lips, my heart beating faster as I felt her grow moist to the touch. Then I gave her clitoris some attention, replicating my sister’s technique of flicking the tiny nubbin on each upstroke. My reward was her moan of pleasure.
Keeping my thumb on her button, I slid two fingers between April’s labia, seeking the entrance to the vagina. Her pussy was much wetter than it had been only minutes ago, so I began to probe into the entrance. My fingers were actually inside her, just a bit. I didn’t want to go too deep and possibly injure my sister, so I only penetrated her about an inch or so.
April’s response was to grit her teeth, take a deep breath and drive her hips against my hand with a hard thrust, more or less impaling herself on my fingers.
She gasped, “That’s it, Mel! That’s the way. Oh, God… fuck me!”
So I did, working my fingers in and out of her while she squirmed and writhed beneath me. April was right — it was like fucking, I realised, and that thought made me shiver. I wasn’t sure how I felt about doing something like that to my little sister. I couldn’t leave her disappointed, though.
Without any reason to do so — or indeed, any knowledge of what I was doing — I curled my fingers upward inside my sister. When I touched the front wall of her vagina, she squealed, “Oh, fuck, yeah! I’m g-gonna… mmmm, I’m coming!” A massive shudder rocked her body.
Suddenly reaching out, April seized my arm and drew me to her. Our lips met, then parted as we melted together in a deep kiss, our tongues dancing together. And as we kissed, my fingers were still twisting around inside her. As a result, she came again, panting into my mouth.
At last, April lay spent, sprawled out on my bed and gasping for breath. I sat beside her, rather pleased with myself. I’d found out about the differences between my body and those of other girls, discovered that I could have orgasms of my own, and realized that I possessed the skills to make another girl come. I was starting to think that sex might not be such a big issue for me after all.
April looked up at me with a sleepy smile, “That was terrific,” she mumbled. “You’re a natural.” Flushed with pride, I added her compliment to my list of the day’s achievements. Placing a hand on her warm belly, I lovingly caressed it.
I should’ve been content to simply lie with April, delighting in what we’d just shared. However there was a nagging question that I finally had to ask.
“April, you just said I was a natural… and you seem to know a lot about, um, stuff girls do together. Sex stuff, I mean. Can I ask — how did you, well, learn all this?”
To my astonishment, April blushed. My sister has never been one to embarrass easily.
My thirteen-year-old sister and I had just fooled around — no, that’s not what happened. We’d fucked one another, then kissed like lesbian lovers, and April had been fine with that. She had exposed her most intimate parts to me without a moment’s hesitation. She’d coped easily with family discussions about sex and masturbation in the presence of a stranger. Almost a casual conversation for her, so it seemed.
But when I ask how she knows so much about sex, in particular about jilling another girl to a climax, that’s when my sister gets all flustered, turning red as a tomato!
I waited.
At last she found her voice. “You know Felicity…?”
It was a rhetorical question. Of course I knew Felicity. She and April had been best friends for almost their entire lives. They called each other Ace and Flick.
I continued to wait, while my sister continued to blush. Finally, she continued.
“Well, about a year ago, when we started, y’know, developing… One day, we were talking about it. But I didn’t want to just talk. I wanted to see, too. Turns out, so did she. So we, kinda, showed each other what we had…”
Obviously there was more to tell, so I waited for it.
“Then we wanted to, um, touch each other. So that’s what happened. And it felt so good… we sort of kept on doing it after that, whenever we got together.” She paused, chewing nervously on her lower lip. “The second time, Flick kissed me — and I really liked it, so I kissed her back. After that…” April kept winding a strand of her hair around one finger, then letting it unravel. “We started doing more. Lots more.”
That made me wonder. “Are you telling me that you and Felicity learned all those things on your own?”
The redness in her face had been steadily diminishing, but it immediately returned. “Well, you see… Flick’s parents don’t have locks on her computer, so she can look at whatever she wants. So we looked up sex for girls, and then we looked up sex between girls – lesbian stuff…” Her cheeks were practically scarlet. “And then we d-did the things that they did.”
Without warning, April burst into tears. I was dumbfounded.
“Yeah, I d-did that stuff with Flick, ‘cos I like her a lot… I mean, she — she’s my bestie. B-but there was another reason why I wanted to know all that… everything about sex with girls….”
She took a deep breath, then blurted out a single, unbroken string of words.
“I wanted to do those things with you, Melody. I wanted to, but I was afraid you… that you’d be mad at me,” She struggled with herself, fighting the tears, needing to finish while she still could.
“It isn’t that I don’t want to have sex with Flick – I do. But I wanted to do it with you, too! Even before I knew what sex was, I wanted to cuddle with you and touch you all over – and I wanted you to touch me. Well, I just hoped you’d want to touch me. And when you started to, like, get boobs and grow up — God, I loved looking at you, when you were getting changed, or in a swimsuit, or anything where I got to see you out of your clothes. And I always wanted to look as good as you – I still do…”
I have no way of knowing how long I stared at April – perhaps seconds, maybe minutes. I struggled to fully comprehend what she’d just told me, what it meant for us, but this was too much to get my head around.
I’d never experienced the feeling of being wanted, not in that way. Now my little sister, who I usually thought of as a kid, had just admitted a hidden longing for sex with me. What in God’s name was I supposed to do with that sort of knowledge?
That was when I became aware that Mum was standing in our doorway looking in, no doubt checking on us to make sure that we were all right. What she saw instead was her teenage daughters lying together, both naked from the waist down, my hand still resting on April’s belly.
On to Part Two!