Farewell to Wendy

A shy high school girl, smitten with her friend's brother for three years, and about to move far away, decides to become sexually aggressive with him.

My name is Brody Holloway. I am 2½ years older than my sister, Shannon, who was born in 1967. We’ve always gotten along well and remain close to this day. I know that is unusual among brothers and sisters. It may stem from the fact that my parents told me as a five-year-old that I was responsible for my little sister’s safety. Of course, I was too young to realize they didn’t really mean it, but I took my assignment quite literally. If Shannon and I were in our backyard together, I did not allow her to stray too far from my reach. I gave her an even shorter leash if we were somewhere in public, such as at a park or inside a store.

My constant doting once saved Shannon’s life—or at least I’ve told her this for nearly 60 years. One day when Shannon was five, we were both on the sidewalk in front of our house. Shannon decided to do her best impression of a tightrope walker on the edge of the curb. She stumbled off it and onto the street. A car was coming, so I quickly grabbed her and pulled her out of danger—what little there was. The car was at least 60 feet away and moving slowly. As long as the driver was paying the slightest bit of attention to what was ahead of him, he could have easily applied his brakes in plenty of time or swerved around her. Shannon was in my arms, well back from the curb, by the time the car passed our house. Nevertheless, my mother glimpsed a small part of what had happened through our kitchen window and proclaimed me a hero. I was treated to a hot fudge sundae at an ice cream parlor that night. So was Shannon, which I didn’t quite understand.

One thing I’ll certainly say about Shannon is that she has always had attractive female friends. As a fourth-grader I developed a moderate crush on Sandra Jennings, a cute, seven-year-old blonde, who was a classmate of Shannon’s. One day when Sandra was visiting our house, I mustered the courage to ask her for a kiss. She sternly refused, saying she disliked me…and the romance ended before it began. If memory serves me right, Sandra did not make any further visits to our house to play with Shannon after that.

Sandra Jennings was an outlier; I generally got along well with the vast majority of my sister’s friends. We often played board games or watched TV together. Sometimes we just chatted. I’m in my sixties now and occasionally I still have Shannon’s longtime friends greet me enthusiastically if we meet at a shopping mall or some other public venue. It’s rather flattering, I suppose. However, I never had any romantic interest in any of them. They were all just Shannon’s female buddies to me.

One such friend was Wendy Farber. Wendy was 15 when her family moved into my suburban community. Her father worked for a drug store chain and had been appointed the manager of a store that had opened in a new strip mall. Apparently, he specialized in getting new stores started and established—and then moving on to another one to do the same thing. Thus, his store in my small city was not a permanent job for him; he had signed a three-year work agreement with the chain. It might be renewed when it was about to expire—or it might not. The latter was more likely. Only time would tell.

Wendy was a pleasant girl—as all my sister’s school friends were—always in good humor and ready to smile and laugh at the slightest provocation. She was a clarinetist in the school band, as was Shannon, and was more of the artsy type than the academic type. That was exactly the same as Shannon. Frankly, Wendy made far less of an impression on me than almost all of Shannon’s friends. I don’t recall ever having a serious conversation with her during the dozens of times she visited our home. Wendy was what I would describe as “an average girl”: curly brown hair that was always cut short; median height; median build; median looks. It sounds a bit cruel, but Wendy was the type of person who would vanish among the people if she walked into a crowded room. Therefore, I was not at all ready for what happened in June of 1986 when I was 21.

One day Shannon came home from school somewhat depressed. She sadly announced that Wendy’s father, as of September 1, would be in charge of a new drug store 600 miles away. Both Wendy and Shannon were nearing the end of their high school years and would be heading to different universities for the 1986-87 academic year. (I was attending university, too, but my campus was nearby. I could drive there in about 25 minutes if traffic was light.) With Wendy’s family relocating westward, chances were strong that Shannon and Wendy would not see each other too often once high school ended in the middle of the month. When Wendy learned that her family’s moving date was July 15, she and Shannon tried to be together every possible day while they still could.

On the final Saturday in June, I was alone in the house. My parents were spending the weekend at a cottage owned by friends. Shannon had a part-time job working at a local bakery. Saturday was always a busy day there, which meant my sister was needed from the time it opened until it closed at 6 p.m. Wendy knew Shannon’s schedule well, so I was utterly surprised when she arrived on foot and knocked on the front door shortly after 12 noon.

“Hi, Wendy,” I said politely. “You do know this is Saturday and Shannon is working at the bakery, right?”

“Yes, Brody, I’m aware of that,” Wendy noted. “I dropped by the bakery to speak to her. She mentioned your folks were away and you’d be home alone. May I come in?”

I opened the door fully and Wendy stepped into the house as she had done literally hundreds of times over the past three years. This was probably the first time we had been in the house alone together.

“Want a drink or a snack?” I offered.

“No, I don’t think so,” Wendy replied. “I came mostly to talk to you.”

“That’s a first!” I said rather flippantly. “I don’t think you’ve ever been inside this house when Shannon was absent. What can I do for you? What do you want to talk about?”

Wendy didn’t answer with words. Instead, she rushed at me, pinned my back against the front closet, embraced me, and gave me what was likely the most passionate kiss I’d had in all my 21 years! I was stunned—but I was thoroughly enjoying it. Up until that moment, the most physical contact I'd ever had with Wendy Farber was when we accidentally bumped into or brushed against one another.

When she broke up our kiss, I asked, “What the hell was that all about, Wendy?”

Wendy giggled and said, “It’s all about you! Brody, I’ve been wanting to do that since the first day Shannon invited me here.”

“You could have fooled me!” I insisted. “In fact, you certainly did fool me!”

"I first met you when I was 15," Wendy recalled, "but I’d heard from another friend of Shannon's that she had an older brother who was a supremely nice guy, a real prize...and not bad looking, either."

I joked, "So you were very disappointed when you discovered that friend of Shannon had totally lied three times about me, right?"

"No, you turned out to be exactly as you were described," Wendy said sweetly as she ran her fingers across my left cheek in a very sexy manner. "I was attracted to you immediately."

I continued to struggle to understand what was happening. I said to Wendy, "And you waited three years to tell me this..."

Wendy paused for a moment and then she gave me a three-pronged explanation. She said, "I'm too shy. I lack confidence in myself. I thought you would reject me."

"I can't tell you about the first two points you mentioned—both of those are inside your head—but you were completely wrong about the third one," I noted. "Why would I reject you, Wendy? I like you a lot; I always have.” I paused for a few seconds and smiled before telling her, “Now I like you more than ever."

That comment inspired Wendy to give me a better smooch than before. It included leaping into my arms to make up the seven-inch difference in our heights as I was 6’1”. Wendy, with her feet off the floor, had me wrapped up in something akin to a bear hug so I carried her into the living room and set her softly on the couch. I sat down beside her. During our trip into the next room, our lips remained locked the whole time.

“I’m guessing you didn’t come here this afternoon just to kiss. Am I correct about that, Wendy?” I asked her.

“You catch on quickly, Brody,” she said somewhat sarcastically. “You’re right. I’m moving far away in less than a month. I’ll likely never see you again. I want a farewell fuck with you. I want to make up for three years of missed romancing in a few hours, between now and the time your sister arrives home when her shift at the bakery ends.”

Without saying another word, Wendy began to unbutton her pretty light blue blouse—and I stopped her.

“What are you doing, Brody?” she asked with alarm in her voice. “Why did you stop me from undressing? Don’t you want to have sex with me?”

“Well, of course I do!” I replied. “And as quickly as possible, too! I just don’t want the whole neighborhood to see what we’ll be doing.”

Wendy gave me a startled look. Then I drew her attention to the huge window that allowed anyone walking past the house in either direction an unobstructed view of the living room where I had carried her. That also included the families who lived in the two houses directly across the street. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d prefer a bit of privacy when I make love to a beautiful girl,” I said.

“Okay,” Wendy responded with good cheer and a touch of embarrassment. “Brody, lead the way to somewhere we can fuck where we won’t attract spectators.” I took Wendy by the hand and led her to my bedroom.

I apologized for the unmade bed that we were about to use for intimacy. I explained that I was usually pretty reliable at doing chores, but I sometimes got lazy about such things when my mother wasn’t home to scold me.

I began to ramble on out of nervousness, I suppose. Wendy quickly put a stop to my monologue by saying, “Who cares? Let’s fuck!”

“That sounds like a great motto!” I declared. “Indeed, let’s fuck!”

We sat on the bed inches apart. I took the initiative to finish unbuttoning Wendy’s blouse and cavalierly toss it to the floor. This action revealed a brassiere that was approximately the same color as the blouse. It never occurred to me until that moment that females might go to that extend of color coordination. Why I was wasting time pondering such trivia with a sexy teenage girl on my bed eagerly waiting to be fucked was a mystery. I quickly refocused and removed Wendy’s bra. I flung it near her discarded blouse.

“Very nice, Wendy!” I commented upon seeing her lovely breasts for the first time. They truly were an attractive pair of east-west boobs, which meant Wendy’s prominent nipples pointed outward instead of straight ahead. I began caressing them immediately. Wendy obviously approved and began to kiss my face and neck in return. I set down my handfuls of pleasure for a few moments to remove my shirt and toss it into the growing pile of garments on the floor at the far end of my bedroom. Then I returned to playing with Wendy’s treasures. I hadn’t realized how well built a girl she was until now. I moved my face downward to Wendy’s torso to suck on her tits. I simply couldn’t resist them. They were magnificent sexual objects.

“Time for me to undress you, Brody,” Wendy suddenly announced. I was already shirtless, but that wasn’t the part of my anatomy that interested Wendy. She quickly undid my belt buckle, yanked off my trousers with some assistance from me, and swiftly pulled down my drawers.

“Thanks what I came for!” Wendy said, pointing at my fully erect phallus. “You’ve got some pretty fair equipment yourself, Brody.” I hated to tell Wendy that I was merely average in size—so I just accepted the compliment, incorrect as it was. Wendy was not in the mood for chatting anymore as she guided my penis into her mouth.

I was unprepared for that to happen so quickly, but the sensation was great. Wendy enthusiastically licked and sucked on it, taking my entire shaft into her mouth. She also began to gently massage my testicles. She removed my penis for just a moment to say, “Feel free to come in my mouth, Brody. I’ve been fantasizing about that for three years, too.” What a girl!

I surely would have done just that, but then I realized I hadn’t gotten to view my sister’s friend completely nude yet. She was still wearing dress shorts and gray ankle socks. I pointed this out to Wendy not very subtly. “I want to see every inch of your naked body before I decide where my sperm ends up.” Wendy swiftly corrected her oversight by slipping out of her remaining garments in just a few seconds.

I gasped. Wendy was extremely beautiful sitting there on the corner of my bed without a stitch of clothing on. I told her, “Wendy, I’ll be blunt: You are absolutely gorgeous when you are naked. There’s no doubt about it. Now spread your legs so I can lick your pussy.”

Wendy obliged and I put by head between her thighs. She had a hairy bush. That made no difference to me. I used my tongue to good effect. I also used the middle finger of my right hand to penetrate Wendy’s vagina. Her reaction was ecstasy. My poking and licking brought her to an orgasm. I took this as a sign that she was ready to be mounted and penetrated with something other than a finger.

Accordingly, I positioned my hard dick at the entrance to her pussy and slowly slid it inside. The wetness helped it glide deep into her channel. We both moaned with desire as we got into a pleasurable fucking rhythm. My thrusts became steadily harder and faster. My body began smacking against Wendy’s as the fucking became harder and more animalistic. After about five minutes of coitus, I lost complete control of myself and fired a load of jism inside her. I think I yelled with delight when I came, but I’m not entirely certain. Things were a bit fuzzy as passion overtook us both. I do know I continued to thrust my dick with short strokes for several minutes after my ejaculation as it remained surprisingly hard. It was definitely the best fuck I’d had in my life—although my experience in such activities was not as great as some of my male peers, if I was to believe their unconfirmed tales of sexual conquest.

When I did pull out, Wendy immediately began stimulating my penis with her right hand. “That was wonderful, Brody. Let me get you hard so we can do it again without delay,” she explained with a cute, satisfied grin on her face. I was reluctant to tell her that even the healthiest and horniest 21-year-old male needs a bit of recovery time after such intense carnal activity
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“That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “Besides, I like handling your penis. It’s a beautiful object and lots of fun for me.” Wendy got about 25 minutes' worth of fun handling it until it was stiff and ready for a second romp.

“This time can you come in my mouth?” Wendy sweetly requested. How could I refuse her? I fucked her tits for my enjoyment and shoved my throbbing manhood back into her mouth. This time I was more of an active participant in the blowjob. I held the back of Wendy’s head and moved my dick to various parts of her mouth. Without warning I shot a wad of goo down her throat. She swallowed it easily, like a champ. We both fell to the bed on the verge of exhaustion—especially me.

Wendy wanted to continue with more intercourse, but I was content just to hug her and do a bit of romantic kissing. She accepted that, but I think she was slightly disappointed that the fucking had stopped.

As we cuddled together on my bed, Wendy told me it had been a thrilling day of screwing for her—one that she would never forget. I told her I felt the same—and it was too bad we hadn’t “done the deed” three years earlier. Wendy said it was “nothing short of a crying shame that we hadn’t become a couple long ago.”

Then a question occurred to me. “Wendy,” I asked, “who was that other friend of Shannon whom you mentioned? You know, the one who told you three years ago that I, Shannon’s big brother, was a prize? She obviously has good taste. Who knows? I might want to fuck her, too, after you’ve moved away.”

Wendy chuckled and replied, “To be totally honest, Brody, it wasn’t another one of Shannon’s friends. I lied about that. It was actually my mother! She had met Shannon earlier that day and then saw you with her a little bit later. She was greatly impressed with you. However, you can’t fuck her, Brody. Even though Mom would likely enjoy you as a bedmate, as I did, my dad would strongly object! Sorry!”