Loons
by Leslie Schmidt
I was 20, between my sophomore and junior year at State, and my mother ‘volunteered’ me to stay a week at my grandmother’s lake cabin. The reason was that my half sister, Donna, and a cousin, Maggie, were spending the week too. Granma was getting on and my parents were afraid that the two girls would either be bored or get into trouble. Neither of them had been to the lake much, and, anyway, me and my step-dad had to do most of the work around the place. I went up with a ‘honey-do’ list that included caulking windows and repairing the roof.
The girls arrived on two different flights, two hours apart. On the drive up it became obvious that my sister, Donna (half sister actually, she lives with my real dad in Florida) was being a complete bitch to my cousin, Maggie (lives in LA). She was either haughty or condescending to the girl, obviously trying to make her feel inferior.
Now Donna, that summer, was 14. She had taking on the ‘Goth’ look but really didn’t carry it off well because she was actually pretty outgoing and talkative. Maggie, on the other hand, was a sort of chunky nine year old. I didn’t know her, but she seemed kind of shy and sweet. Still, the last thing she needed was an older girl bullying her when she was supposed to be on vacation.
“You be extra kind to Maggie,” my mom said before she left us. “That little slu..omething of your father’s is being to complete bitch to her.”
I wasn’t too hot on my mom calling my sister a slut and a bitch, but she was right.
The girls would be taking the extra bedroom, so I’d be sleeping on the sleeper-sofa in the living room, as usual. Grandma really is a hoot to be around, a former ‘60s flower child, my dad had been born in a commune. The first time I ever smoked pot was at the very same cabin when I was 12—Grandma always encouraged a few plants in isolated places around in the woods. These days she claimed it helped her glaucoma. My aunt (Maggie’s mother) had the reputation that she followed Grandma, so I was pretty sure she knew what she was getting Maggie into.
During that first evening, Donna kept up her bullying of Maggie, making fun of her when she ended up with a bone from the walleye Grandma had caught and fried for dinner; then again saying that her night gown was ‘nice’ in just the right tone to put the child down. I made a point of getting alone with Maggie on the deck and talking with her.
She seemed like a pretty ordinary kid—going into the fourth grade, nervous about moving to the Intermediate School where she’d be changing classes four times a day (‘I’m afraid I’ll get lost!’). The trip alone on an airliner had been a real adventure, especially changing planes in Minneapolis. Then riding the ‘little propeller plane’ to Duluth she was 'scary.' I told her I’d teach her to fish the next day.
That night everyone went to bed early. About 20 minutes later Grandma tapped me on the shoulder and waved for me to follow. I was just lighting the second bowl on the deck when Grandma said, “Well hello, dear, are you having trouble sleeping?”
Maggie was standing at the door. Her face was in shadow but I’m sure she had a shocked expression.
“Come on and sit with us, hon,” Grandma said. “We’re just listening to the loons.”
“Go ahead, Ricky,” Grandma said to me.
I lit the bowl and took a hit, then handed it to Grandma.
“That’s marijuana,” Maggie said.
“It helps my glaucoma,” Grandma said through the smoke, handing the pipe back to me.
The ember had died, so I used the bic while taking another hit. “It helps my attitude,” I said.
When I tried to pass it back to Grandma she waved it away. “Give some to your cousin, dear,” she said.
Maggie grabbed the hot bowl and pulled her hand back. “Ouch! It’s hot.”
“Well, help her dear!” Grandma said to me in a scolding tone.
I shifted from my chair to sit on the bench next to Maggie.
“It’s gone out,” I said. I’ll have to light it while you take a toke.” I picked up the lighter. “Now, it’s really strong so you have to pull air around the end.” I demonstrated on the dead pipe. “Ready?”
“I guess so,” she said, giggling.
“OK.”
I held the pipe to her lips and lit the lighter.
The nine year old came away gasping and coughing. I patted her on the back a couple of times while she caught her breath, then handed the pipe back to Grandma. After her I took the last toke on the bowel, then tapped it out on the railing of the deck. I filled it again.
“More?” I asked Maggie. In the dark she nodded.
This time she held the drag, suppressing a couple of coughs. The pipe made another round before I refilled our wine glasses. Maggie took a sip from mine. After the next bowl Grandma got up.
“I’m going to get you a glass, dear,” she said, heading for the kitchen.
“You ever smoked before?” I asked as Grandma went into the cabin.
“No.”
“Don’t let Donna know.”
Maggie didn’t respond at first. “Why is she being so mean to me?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she wanted to come. Our dad called my mom and said he wanted to get her away from some of her friends for a while this summer. I think she’ll be nicer after a while.”
Grandma came back with another glass and a can of peanuts. We spent the next hour watching the moon rise over the lake and listening to the birds. Grandma could identify the various trills, clucks, squawks, thumps and groans as we listened. We all sat for a while and talked. Mostly, Grandma questioned me and Maggie about school, but we also got her to tell a few stories about when she was growing up. After a while we all went to bed.
I had just turned off the light and lain down. I was startled when I saw a figure standing over me.
“Is something wrong?” I recognized Maggie.
“Can I stay out here, Donna’s snoring and I can’t sleep.”
I moved to the side some, making room on the sleeper-sofa. She lay down next to me, outside the covers.
“It’s so quiet here,” she said in the darkness. “At home you can always hear the freeway.”
“Also a lot darker,” I said.
“Yes. I never see the stars like that unless we go up into the mountains.”
We were quiet for a few minutes longer; a loon called out on the lake and was answered by another farther away.
“Can I sleep here?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She slipped under the covers but didn’t touch me. After a few minutes I rolled onto my side, facing away from her, and went to sleep.
In the morning we were woken up by Donna.
“I can’t believe you guys smoked weed and didn’t invite me,” she said, looking down at the pipe that was lying on a table.
“Oh! You were asleep,” I said. Maggie was cuddled up to my side, her knee over my thigh, a hand on my chest. She stirred, woke up and rolled away from me to sit on the side of the bed. She pulled her nightgown over her knees.
“Good morning,” she said to Donna.
“I’m not good enough to sleep with?”
“You were snoring…” Maggie stretched.
Donna went to the fridge. “I don’t snore!” she said.
“I guess that was a strangled duck I heard last night,” I said with a smile.
She pulled out a gallon of OJ. “Either of you want some?” she offered.
It seemed that Donna was in a much better mood today—maybe it was getting out of her goth clothes. The put-downs and snipes of yesterday were forgotten and the girls were laughing and giggling together by breakfast.
“What are you guys going to do today?” Grandma asked while she scraped the remains of breakfast into the trash.
“I promised Dad I’d check out the outboard, then I thought I’d take the girls for a ride around the lake, show them the sights,” I said.
“I’ll lay out on the dock while you get the boat ready,” Donna said.
“Strange that you’d come to Minnesota for a tan,” Grandma said.
“I hate the beach—at least the people there,” Donna replied.
I dug the toolbox out of the shed and carried it down to the dock. I was just man-handling the 25 horse Evinrude off the boat when the girls appeared. Donna was in a black thong that left as little to the imagination as was legal. Maggie had on a pink one-piece. With the outboard clamped to the fish cleaning table I started to work. The girls lay down at the end of the dock.
As I worked, I couldn’t help but check out the sights.
Donna, as I said, was 14—long and very thin—her legs made up more than half her height—probably four inches over five feet. Although her hair is normally brown, she had dyed it jet black. It was medium length, just to her shoulders, and she parted it in the middle. Either she was still not really developed or she had real small tits, my guess was that she didn’t fill an A cup yet. (Turns out, she’s just got small tits. Today, 30 years later, she’s still got close to the same figure). She also has a pleasant face, just a bit sharp. Her eyes are brown but not too dark, straight, sharp nose, maybe a bit large, small mouth but with full lips. Unfortunately, when she was in her goth mode she always looked sickly. But at the lake, after putting that aside, she was pretty sexy.
Maggie was nine and a bit chunky. Not fat, there were no rolls or anything, but she was a bit thick and solid. Her brown hair reached below her shoulder blades and, having straight bangs across her forehead just made her look heavier. She had probably just broken 4 feet, has wide set eyes, a slightly turned up nose and large mouth. Today, at least the last time I saw her about ten years ago, she’s still kind of heavy. But, in her defense, she was seven months pregnant. I get Christmas cards from her and her growing family.
At any rate, the girls lay down towels and I tried not to ogle my little sister. As for Maggie—she was wearing a very proper bathing suit but, well, for me, I was wishing there was more skin showing.
New plugs, points, and a change of the lower unit oil. Then a general cleaning and lubing and 45 minutes later the outboard jumped to life with just a touch of the starter.
“Let me get changed, then we’ll make a run around the lake,” I said to the girls.
I grabbed the tackle box and a carton of worms that Grandma always kept in the fridge, before I went back out to the dock. Island Lake isn’t very big, maybe only half a mile across, and there is an island in the middle of it. Most of the cabins are on the west side, so once you get around the island on the other side you’re pretty well out of site. There’s also a small bay, only a hundred yards long and about 30 wide, that’s really isolated. It’s also a good place for bass. After driving around the lake I talked the girls into some fishing and poked the nose of the pontoon boat into the bay. The entrance is really narrow and the bay is full of snags and logs. I moved slowly to an area that I’d landed a few bass from and grounded the starboard pontoon on a sunken log.
Donna wasn’t into fishing, so she lay on deck while I showed Maggie how to cast.
“You don’t go to the beach in FLA?” I asked.
“Naw—it’s full of tourists and perverts. Worst, I might run into some asshole from school.”
“Well, not many people here, at least not during the week,” I said. Maggie pulled her line in but got the lure caught on a lifeline when she tried to cast again.
“I hate the people there. All the girls are giggly sluts and the only thing the boys want to do is pump you full of sperm,” Donna said, her eyes closed.
Maggie looked at me with an embarrassed smile. Then things got exciting when she hooked a fish. Donna sat up and watched as Maggie laughed and hooted while pulling it in. I found the net and she landed a yellow perch.
“I don’t know, Maggie, looks kind of small,” I said as she lifted the six inch fish out of the net. It struggled and she dropped it. Again she was giggling as it flopped around on the deck until I caught it and picked it up.
As I worked the hook out of its lip I told her it was too small to keep. When it hit the water it lay there, stunned for a few seconds, before shooting off.
“Bye bye fishy,” Maggie said.
“Well, if you two will keep it down, I want to get some sun,” Donna said.
I looked over at my sister and caught my breath as she took her top off, then lay down with her eyes closed. Maggie looked at me, blushing, then turned back to cast her line.
As I said, Donna has small tits—there wasn’t even any crease under them. Her areolas were maybe nickel size but they stuck up in small domes that were topped by be-be size nipples.
I acted like I was ignoring her, while, of course, getting furtive glances at my sister’s tits. As you can imagine, looking at a half naked fourteen year old, while bending over and rubbing against my nine year old cousin, was having quite an effect on me. Pretty soon I was having to be real careful not to push my half hard cock against Maggie’s backside.
We managed to reel in another perch, this one was big enough to be a keeper.
“Great! Pan fish for lunch!” Donna said.
Maggie looked at the fish as I was working the hook out of its mouth. “Let it go,” she said.
“He’s keeper size. Don’t you want him for lunch?”
“Naw, let him go.”
“Awww…,” Donna said, “poor little fishy.”
I threw the perch back.
“Let’s try over there,” I said, pointing to an area on the other side of the boat. I used a pole to push the boat a few yards until it grounded on a different log.
Maggie made two pretty good casts but no fishes seemed interested.
“How ‘bout if we try bottom fishing?” I suggested. “There may be some lake trout or walleye hanging around under us. The bottom comes up real fast, there’s probably 20 feet of water off the stern.”
“OK,” Maggie said.
I started working on the tackle, taking the lure off and tying on hooks and sinkers.
“Hey,” Donna said, sitting up, “one of us doesn’t look like the others.”
Both of us looked at her. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“Your topless, I’m topless, but she isn’t”
Maggie looked around, an embarrassed expression on her face.
“She’s right, ya know,” I said as I finished tying a hook on my rod. Then she watched silently as I baited the hooks.
Maggie picked up her rod and started to lift it like she was going to cast.
“No,” I said, “just flip the bail over and let the line run out through your fingers until it stops, that’s when it hits the bottom. Then reel in just a couple of turns and wait for a fish to come along.”
She turned and held the rod out over the water.
“Watch me,” I said. I let the line run out, my guess was right, it was about 20 feet. Then I reeled in two turns. “Now we wait.”
Maggie did the same, then sat down on the bench that ran down the middle of the deck.
“Well,” Donna said, sitting back up, “are you going to stay like that or join the rest of us?”
Again Maggie looked around, embarrassed.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “No one’s around here.”
“Not as if you’ve got anything to show,” Donna said in her bitch voice.
“Donna! That’s unfair,” I scolded my little sister. “She will do what she wants.” (I almost added ‘You don’t have much to show,’ but I bit my tongue.)
Maggie looked at me, now she looked pissed. She turned back to her pole, then reached up and untied the string that looped from the front of her suit up around the back of her neck. Then she very carefully folded the top of her suit down until it was gathered around her waist.
I stepped over the bench and sat down next to her. As I said, Maggie was kind of chunky—this made her have some nice curves and rises. Although she was only nine, she looked like she had developing boobs, even though it was just that she was a little heavy. Her nipples tipped the ends of her false tits with lovely pink cones.
I leaned over to her. “Are you alright with this?” I whispered.
“Yes,” she replied, not whispering but in a low voice, “it’s no big deal.”
“Well, I think you’re lovely,” I said.
She looked at me, then smiled. “Thank you,” she said with a note of genuine appreciation.
I put my arm around her and pulled her shoulder against my side. “You’re a sweetheart.” Then I let her go—a friendly hug. Still, the feel of her soft, warm skin made my already firm cock surge just a bit.
We sat for maybe fifteen minutes, saying just a little about the birds that flew or paddled by, once a fish jumped on the other side of the bay. Then the boat rocked as Donna got up. She went to the console and pulled the third rod out of the carrier. She sat down on the other side of Maggie, put two sinkers on her line, expertly skewered a worm onto the hook, then dropped her line in. The three of us sat, waiting.
After a while a conversation started. Maggie told us about her life in LA and I told some stories about classes at the University, then we got onto our families and times we’d seen each other in the past. I was surprised to learn that Maggie and Donna had seen each other at a get together just a year ago. Then we started talking about when Donna and I had been together.
“Yeah,” Donna said to Maggie, “Ricky and me have spent a lot of time here at Grammie’s together.”
“Yup,” I said. “In fact, I’ll bet that we’ve spent most of our time together here.”
“Been a few years, though,” Donna said.
“Yeah, I think the last time was…shit…must have been five years.”
Donna started to laugh. “I don’t think we should tell our little cousin the stuff we used to do, might shock her.”
“Donna, maybe some things we shouldn’t advertise.”
“Rick and I used to play doctor a lot,” she said to Maggie.
“Donna, come on,…she doesn’t need to know about this.”
“When I was six…I remember because it was Christmas break and I’d gotten a Nurse Barbie doll for Christmas. Well, your cousin here, of course, thought it’d be a great idea for us to play doctor…not that we hadn’t before.”
“OK, yeah, we had some good times,” I said.
“You bet good times. The first time I ever came was that Christmas.”
“Donna, come on…”
“You must have been, what, twelve?”
“I turned thirteen in October,” I said.
“Well, it was cold and Grammie had her friend and another couple over, they were playing bridge and Ricky and me were cuddled up under a blanket on the couch…the same one’s there now…watching TV. They thought it was so cute, brother and sister cuddled up like that. What they didn’t know was he had his hand down my pants and I was jerking him off.”
“Come on, Donna, we agreed…I could get in a lot of trouble…”
“What, you were thirteen?” she said.
“Still…” I replied.
Maggie was looking straight ahead, not saying anything.
“Anyway, I can’t believe they didn’t know what was going on…I must have cum four times. Then he made a huge mess, cumming all over my hand and shooting into the blanket.”
“Grandma knew, she told me a couple of years ago,” I said.
“You know what cum means?” Donna said, looking at Maggie. “It’s that feeling you get when you rub yourself.”
Maggie was turning beet red.
“And it’s when a guy shoots all his white goo out of his cock.”
“Donna, stop it. You’re really making her uncomfortable,” I said.
“OK, I’ll stop,” she said, laughing.
Again we sat for a few more minutes. Nothing was even nibbling.
“I’m going to lay down again,” Donna said, leaning her pole against the life line.
Then she slid down onto the deck and stretched out, her feet near Maggie’s. She was on her stomach, her butt cheeks almost completely uncovered except for a narrow triangle of fabric that covered her ass crack.
I was admiring the site when I saw that Maggie was watching me. She smiled and it was my turn to look embarrassed.
A couple of minutes later Donna turned over. “I want an even tan,” she said. Then, much to my surprise and delight, she worked her bottoms over her hips, knees, and off her feet. She lay back out.
I was interested to see the small triangle of fine hair that just covered her slit. Remembering her at nine I was both pleased and a little disappointed at the changes. Maggie just looked ahead after glancing at her. As we sat there I remembered old times and, well, I’m afraid that the predictable response was no surprise.
“What you think?” Donna said, looking at me with one eye open.
“Well, OK, frankly, you’re sexy as hell,” I said.
She sat up, looking at the tent in my swim trunks. “Yeah, I can see that.”
Maggie looked down at my crotch, then up at me with big eyes.
“Come on, show her,” Donna said.
“Donna, you’re sick,” I said.
“I bet you’ve never seen one hard,” Donna said, getting up. She walked around behind us, then sat down next to me. “Let me see.” She reached down and pulled at my trunks.
“Donna, come on!” I protested.
“Let’s see,” she giggled as she pulled at my shorts again.
“OK, Ok…”
I lifted up and pulled my swim trunks down to my ankles. My cock sprang free, sticking up.
“Cool!” Donna said, grabbing it.
Maggie looked down, her eyes huge.
“Let me…” Donna said as she started to stroke me.
I had my arm around Maggie’s waist and, unconsciously, I pulled her against me.
“I jerked him off like this while he rubbed me,” Donna said.
I reached down into Donna’s crotch but she grabbed my hand. “No, rub her,” she said.
Then she reached across and took Maggie’s hand, then led it to my cock. Maggie tentatively wrapped her hand around my rod, then, with Donna guiding her, began to stroke it.
“He used to finger me while I jerked him off,” Donna said. “Let him put his hand in your suit.
I looked at Maggie and she smiled, nervously.
“Come on, do it!” Donna urged as her directing Maggie’s hand became more direct.
Maggie shrugged. I moved my hand from around her back and down into her crotch, outside her suit. She spread her legs some but I really couldn’t feel anything through the heavy nylon. She was very tense. I tried to push my finger down further but she didn’t move. It was obvious that she was really not comfortable with this.
I pulled my hand back and she let go of my dick.
“Damn, OK,” Donna said as she slid off the bench, always still holding my cock. “I’ll deal with it.”
She knelt next to me and, with two hands, stroked my cock.
“It takes a few minutes to make a guy cum,” she said to Maggie. Then she looked down at me and started stroking in earnest.
I leaned back as cum started to boil in my balls. I started to hump to meet her hands and breathe harder.
“As they get more excited they start breathing harder and humping.” She kept up the strokes. “They really like it if you suck it, but it’s gross if they cum in your mouth.”
She leaned down and started sucking my dick while still stroking my shaft. This was truly awesome, getting a blow job from my kid sister. Before I’d gotten her to suck it a little but she didn’t want to do it.
“Don’t cum,” she said, looking up at me. Then, looking at Maggie, “Just before they cum their dick gets even bigger, they start to breathe real hard and, sometimes, they moan.”
She went back to sucking my cock head while Maggie watched. I was really getting along, lifting my ass off the aluminum bench with my hands and humping into her face. The jiz was about to go.
“Oh, God, Donna, I’m going….”
She pulled back, stroking me strongly and aimed my dick to the side, turning her face away while still watching.
My first shot splatted on her thigh, then a dollop hit her shoulder. The rest ran over her hands.
“Oh God, that’s a lot!” she said. “You just made a little puddle before.
I was breathless, panting, as I sank my ass back down to the bench. Donna rubbed the cum off her thigh, then looked around. She picked up my swim trunks and used them. Then she wiped more semen off her shoulder.
“See, that’s what a guy looks like when he cums.”
My cock was still pulsing, but had softened some, pointing off to the side. I caught my breath, then looked at Maggie.
She had turned and was looked straight ahead. Her face was no longer red with embarrassment, she just seemed to have a blank expression.
“Don’t think you’re going any farther without one of those rubber things,” Donna said.
I realized that I hadn’t brought any. “I guess I’ll have to go to the store,” I said.
“That’s OK,” Donna continued. “You can do anything with Maggie here, she’s too young to get knocked up—just like I was.”
The atmosphere on the boat had become rather awkward, so I pulled on my swim trunks, then went back to fishing. There wasn’t a single bite.
“I think the fish are just being lazy today, too sunny. They’re sleeping under logs down there,” I said.
Maggie looked up at me with a ‘I want to go,’ expression. I reeled in my line only to discover a clean hook.
“Huh, look at that, someone stole my bait.” Donna laughed.
Maggie pulled her line up, her worm was still there.
“Maybe he just got off,” I said. “Let’s go back, I need to work on some stuff for Grandma.”
I picked up Donna's pole and brought it in, then started the engine. As I nudged the boat out of the little bay, Maggie pulled her top up and tied the string but Donna stayed laid out on deck, naked as the day she was born.
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