Clarissa Explains It All: Love And Sex (mf,f-mast)
by Ambush Bug ([email protected])
I've always been a pretty smart kid. Ideas have always been easy for me to
grasp, even with the totally confusing teachers I have, the only exception to
that rule being math. And I've always been kinda proud of that, being smart.
It's always seemed like bee been truly blessed, what with being smart and
pretty and not having to worry about my weight and, ever since I was eleven,
having a nice sized set of boobs. Not too big but not too small, like
goldilocks. But even in the seeming paradise of being an impossibly cute
fourteen year old girl who has everything going for her, a little bit of
rain's gotta fall. Sometimes a lot of rain. Sometimes some pretty surprising
rain, the kind of rain that, no matter how smart or lucky I am, I'm just not
I'm talking about love, of course. And sex. The two most confusing and
wonderful things in the human condition. They're even more confusing and
wonderful when you put them together.
Let me explain: it was a Saturday afternoon in early summer. The temperature
was around ninety degrees and I couldn't go around in the type of clothes I
usually wore, the long sleeved blouses and vests, the tights and leggings,
they were too warm, so I was dressed in just a pair of shorts and a
tee-shirt. I wasn't even wearing any shoes or socks. But I was still so
drained of energy from the heat that I was feeling lazy, just laying around
in my room, trying not to sweat too much.
I was thinking about Ken Griffey Jr., the outfielder for the Seattle
Mariners, and how hunky and gorgeous he was. I was only a mild baseball fan,
certainly not a fan of the Mariners, who had yet to even have a winning
season, I wasn't even that much into black buys. But I was crazy about Ken,
and began entertaining a fantasy in which I went to a game and got him to
sign a baseball for me, and while he was signing it he was flirting with me.
I flirted back, and then he asked me if I wanted to see the clubhouse, and
naturally I jumped at the chance. The fantasy followed Ken and me as we went
into the clubhouse and into the locker room, where we took off our clothes
and made love in the shower.
As I fantasized I let my hands roam over my body. I touched my boobs with one
hand, caressing them lightly as my other hand slipped down inside my shorts.
But I realized very quickly that I was already overheated from the weather
and masturbating would just make me more uncomfortable, so I decided to to go
take a real shower. That way I could have my pleasure and get cooled off
So I got up from my bed and went into the bathroom, undressed, and jumped in
the shower. I kept the water a little warm while I masturbated, caressing my
wet soapy boobs, pulling on my nipples and rubbing my clit as the water
poured over my body and Ken Griffey Jr. did me in my imagination. He had me
bent over, leaning against the shower wall, and was holding me by the hips as
he shoved his long hard black cock into me, and I was moaning and shouting
out sillingsings like, "Oh yes, Kenny, yes, fuck me hard!" until I came, a
powerful shuddering orgasm that literally curled my toes.
When I was done, I washed my body and shampooed, then turned the water nice
and cold. I stood under it for about two minutes, then got out. I dried off
but left my hair wet and dripping over my shoulders, wrapped the towel around
my body, and started back for my bedroom. But then I decided I wanted a soda,
so I went downstairs to the kitchen.
I got a Seven Up out of the refrigerator, and just as I was closing the
door Ferguson came in from outside. I didn't really think about being so
underdressed in front of my dumb brother; after all, I was his sister, it
wasn't like he would actually feel any kind of attraction to me, even if
I'd been totally naked. But he did have an attraction to me, as I soon
found out to my utter horror.
As soon as he saw me, Ferguson's jaw dropped open and his eyes got big. I
thought he was just goofing, or making fun of me, but then he said, "Wow,
sis." and his eyes began crawling all over me. I realized then that he
actually liked looking at my nearly naked body.
"Oh, gross, Fergface," I said, and turned to go back upstairs, planning to
put some clothes on as soon as possible.
But suddenly Ferguson reached out and grabbed my towel and yanked it away,
leaving me completely naked.
"Ferguson!" I shouted. I dropped my Seven Up on the floor and covered my
boobs with my hands, but it was too late, he'd already seen them.
"Wow," he said again, and tried to pull my hands away. I shouted at him to
stop, to leave me alone, but he wouldn't, kept pulling at my hands. "Just let
me touch them, Clarissa," he said. He pushed me up against the refrigerator,
managed to pry one of my hands awrom rom my body, and clutched my right boob.
He pawed me roughly as he continued to struggle with me, trying to hold me in
place. Fortunately, though, Ferguson was small and thin and a total weakling.
He'd only managed to get me up against the refrigerator because he'd caught
me by surprise. I was a little bigger than him, and stronger, and mad now, so
I shoved him hard and he fell back on his butt.
"You stupid creep!" I yelled at him, then grabbed my towel, held it against
my body, and ran out of the kitchen, all the way up the stairs and to my
room. I shut the door and locked it, then stood there against the door for
a minute, catching my breath.
I couldn't believe what had just happened. Ferguson, my own brother, had
tried to...what? Grab my boobs, obviously, but what if I hadn't resisted?
What else would he have tried to do? Rape me? I just couldn't believe that,
couldn't get my brain around that idea. Sure, Fergface was a complete jerk,
and he was weird, but he wasn't a pervert. He wasn't so sick that he would
actually try to hurt me. But then again, he had pushed me against the
fridge, tried to hold me there while he grabbed at me. And I was his sister.
I knew I had to do something, I couldn't just let Ferguson get away with
what he'd done, but what could I do? I couldn't tell my parents, that would
be just way too embarrassing. I didn't know any other girls that I was close
enough to that I could confide in, and I sure as heck wasn't going to tell
Sam about this, even though he was my best friend. The only other option, as
I saw it, was to go beat Ferguson to death with a hammer. But first I had to
get dressed; he'd seen enough of my nakedness to last him the rest of his
I went to my dresser and got some underwear and a bra, put them on, then
pulled a dress out of the closet, the white one with the tiny blue flowers
and the modest neckline. I slipped into it, zipped the back, then sat on
the end of my bed and sighed, suddenly out of steam. I wasn't going to beat
Ferguson to death, no matter how much I thought I wanted to. That was just
anger and humiliation, fleeting emotions. But that didn't mean I was going
to let him get away with anything. I was going to take some kind of action,
I just didn't know what kind yet.
Now that I was dressed, I desperately wanted Sam to show up so I could talk
to him, and just as I wished for him his ladder bumped against my window
sill, as if he'd been waiting for my silent call.
"Hi, Sam," I called out, as usual.
Sam came up the ladder and through the window, making sure his feet were
firmly planted on my bedroom floor before he replied, "Hey, Clarissa. What's
This was what I liked best about Sam, that he came to visit me and he never
had an agenda. He just wanted to hang out because he liked me.
"I have a problem, Sam," I said before I could stop myself.
"What's the problem?" Sam asked, sitting in the chair in front of my vanity.
I had to make a quick decision: tell him the truth about Ferguson or make
something up. The idea of space aliens wandered into my head and I realized
I had to tell him the truth.
"It's Fergface," I said. I slumped my shoulders and clasped my hands in my
lap. "He just made a pass at me about half an hour ago. He, um, grabbed my
Sam screwed up his face in a totally disapproving look and said, "Wow,
Clarissa, that's way out of line. You gotta do something about that."
"Yes, I know, Sam," I said, "but what do I do? I mean, do I confront him or
what? This whole thing is just too stomach churning for me. I mean, ew, my
I crossed my arms in front of my chest and kinda hugged myself, and Sam came
over and sat next to me on the end of the bed. He put his arm around my
shoulders, touched my head so I would rest it against his neck. So kind and
caring. Another thing I liked about Sam. He kissed the top of my head, which
I didn't think was inappropriate, although he'd never done that before. Then
he started saying things to me, lovely things, about what a sweet and
wonderful person I was, and how much he cared about me and couldn't stand to
see me upset. He caressed my shoulder and arm as he talked and I felt
comforted and loved.
Then he said, "You know, Clarissa, in a way, I can't blame Ferguson for what
he did," and I was totally grossed out. But I didn't show any of my reaction,
I just sat there cuddled up next to him, and replied, "What are you talking
about, Sam?" I was hoping he was just making a joke, a sick one but still a
joke, or maybe he had a logical and safe explanation.
Sam brought his other hand around and touched my chin and I looked up at him.
He had a strange look in his eyes, a kind of loving and worshipful look, the
kind of look I got from boys who had crushes on me. Not actually so strange,
but this was Sam.
"I don't wanna freak you out or anything," he said, "but, well, guys do crazy
things when they have feelings for girls. I've never just grabbed a girl like
that, but I can understand why Ferguson did it. I don't have a sister, but if
I did and she was you, well, I might be tempted to do something wrong too."
Then he kissed me, gently and briefly on the lips, and looked deep into my
eyes. "I guess it's a good thing you're not my sister."
It was a really good thing. Because I would have been immediately guilty of
incestuous yearnings. Sam kissing me took me so much by surprise that my
senses were the first to respond, and they were pretty much centered on the
area below my waist. And then one of his hands found one of my boobs and the
yearnings just kind of spread themselves around all through my body and I
forgot all about Ferguson.
He kissed me again, and while I told myself this shouldn't be happening, that
we had to stop before things went too far, I didn't say a word and, well,
things went too far. His tongue slipped into my mouth, then he was unzipping
my dress, pulling it down over my shoulders, and touching one of my boobs
through my bra. The next thing I knew we were laying on the bed, still
kissing, and he was undoing the clasp on my bra, pulling the cups away. He
kissed my naked boobs, then started sucking my nipples. He stuck his hand
under my dress and started rubbing me between my legs. It was so nice, it
felt so wonderful, and it was all so new because before that morning the only
one who'd ever touched me there was me, and it was so much better to have
someone else doing it. To have someone I wasn't related to doing it.
I came just from his touches and his kisses and his sucking on my nipples,
then even though in my head I was telling myself to stop him, all I could
manage to do was murmur and moan as Sam slid my panties off of me and opened
my legs. He caressed me a little more, moving his fingers through my pubic
hair, rubbing my clitoris, and I felt lightning zag through me. I made a
kind of little chirping sound and pulled him against me. I kissed his neck,
breathing harder now and rubbing his shoulders and back as Sam continued to
touch my cunt. Sam was breathing hard too, and moaning, and I could feel the
solidness of his cock pressed against my hip. It was at that moment that I
realized that we weren't just goofing around or experimenting, we weren't
just seeking some momentary satisfaction. Sam was going to fuck me, and I
was going to let him.
I couldn't think about whether it was right or wrong, whether I was ready or
not, or if I even loved Sam enough to surrender my virginity to him. I just
knew that this was what I wanted, my body was shouting for it. I suddenly
understood what he'd meant when he said that guys do crazy things when they
have certain feelings for girls because I was having those same feelings for
Sam rolled over on top of me, kissing my face as he settled himself between
my legs. He fumbled between us for a minute, unfastening his jeans and
pulling his cock out. I felt it against my stomach, hard and warm, then
against the lips of my cunt. I held my breath, waiting, and Sam entered me
slowly, carefully, obviously not wanting to hurt me. It didn't hurt at first,
as he pushed into me, sliding almost effortlessly inside, filling me and
expanding me. But then it came up against my cherry, seemed to prod at it for
a moment, then pushed through. I gasped, clutched Sam's biceps in my hands,
tried to keep the lower half of my body still as he moved deeper and deeper
into me. The pain was sharp and intense, but the worst of it was over in just
a few seconds, and after a minute or so it began to lessen, to fade, until
finally it was gone, and what was left was a faint and growing pleasure as
Sam made slow and tender love to me.
I couldn't believe how beautiful it was, how gentle he was with me, how
good it felt to be sharing the softest and most precious part of myself. I
experienced the most wonderful feelings as he moved within me, cradled me
in his arms and kissed my neck and my shoulder, my collarbone. He took my
nipples in his mouth and gently nibbled on them as he fucked me, gradually
pushing faster and faster. It seemed to last a lifetime and yet hardly any
time at all, the pleasure building and building until it reached its peak
and burst inside of me, spreading out in waves all through my body. I cried
out, helpless to keep it in, and at the same time Sam groaned and held me
tight, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he experienced his own tide of
pleasure. I could feel his come pouring into me and I knew right at that
moment that what we'd done was right, it was brilliant, and I was in love.
I told him so afterward as we lay together on my bed, his cock still hard
inside of me, his arms around me and his kisses decorating my face. I said,
"Sam, I love you," and he said, "I love you too, Clarissa, I've always
loved you and wanted to be with you. You're the most beautiful girl in the
world." He kept kissing me and I held him, caressed his back in the sweet
afterglow of our surprising love, and wished that we could always be like
that, could just stay locked together in that perfect moment. I wished
softly in his ear that nothing would ever have to change.
But we couldn't, of course. My parents were gone for the day and I knew they
wouldn't be back until that evening, but Ferguson was still somewhere in the
house, and I didn't trust him to knock before he just came barging into my
room. So, reluctantly, Sam and I got up from the bed. The dress I had on was
stained with my blood and I took it off, balled it up and stowed it in the
bottom of my hamper. Sam had gotten his own clothes squared away and stood
looking at me, the most romantic look in his eyes. I put on my robe, told
him I had to go to the bathroom, and he came to me. He hugged me, kissed my
"I have to get going anyway," he said, his voice low and soft. "I love you,
"I love you too, Sam," I said.
We kissed again, then Sam let me go and crossed over to the window. He
climbed out onto his ladder, gave me one last sweet glance, a smile curling
his lips, then he was gone. I belted my robe and went out into the hallway,
padded quietly into the bathroom and shut the door. I looked at myself in
the mirror; aside from my hair being kind of messed up and the rosey flush
in my cheeks, I didn't look any different. But I was different, I'd been
I thought about Ferguson and what he'd done to me in the kitchen, how angry
I'd been. I'd wanted to hurt him, to get back at him, but I didn't want to
now. I still thought he'd been wrong, but I decided to let it go, to forget
about it. Because I understood how confusing emotions and physical desires
could be, how they could lead us to do unexpected and inexplicable things.
I thought I understood him now, or at the very least I could forgive him,
because his crossing of the forbidden boundary of incest had inadvetantly
guided me toward Sam.
"I love you, Clarissa."
Those words hummed lightly in my brain, still sounding strange to me. Sam,
my best friend. Our love had been a complete surprise, almost impossible to
comprehend, but so amazing that I couldn't help but believe in it, to cherish
it I smiled at my reflection and whispered my reply.
"I love you too, Sam."