Cat-like eyes of yellow fire bore into me, as I stared down at the pale, almost translucent figure on her knees before me. It was a deathly face that stared back; one that knew my darkest secrets and my living torment, one that enticed and repulsed in equal measure. Each time was the same, but the knowing only served to heighten my fear: her blood red lips would part to reveal an abyss, a road straight to hell, framed with razor teeth. Then would come the banshee howl, and the lunge, as I stood rooted to the spot. This was the image that I had awoke to, trembling and sweating, almost every morning since what had happened with aunt Susan and cousin Sara.   And although I cannot say that the vampiristic figure of my nightmares resembled my aunt in any great detail, I knew in my soul that it was symbolic of her.    

Feelings of fear and guilt blended with ones of arousal and exhilaration to create a heady cocktail of turmoil in those dying days of summer, 1999. For weeks after my stay with aunt Susan and her precious daughter, I hardly managed a wink of sleep for fear of letting the demons creep in, while my days were a swirl in a masturbatory haze. And yet, even the fear of my nightmares couldn’t quell my urges; I had had a few wet dreams before, but now it was a thing of startling regularity. Morning, noon and night seemed spent seeking an opportunity to satiate my masturbatory desires. In such a daze of confusion, my already sullen demeanour deepened. Without any exaggeration, I must have been pleasuring myself eight or nine times a day, if not more, but as time passed I craved greater levels of arousal. Again and again I would play out the scenes that took place just a few weeks before. I’d masturbate to the thought of how Sara’s silky panties had felt as my penis slid back and forth in the crevice of her bottom. Then I’d picture Cecile masturbating me to orgasm over my aunt Susan, and the sight of her licking my semen from her lips. Other days I’d remember how Juliet had squatted over my face, or how Lucy’s labia had parted to reveal her inner glory. But still I needed more.

Several events in particular stand out from that last couple of weeks before September’s return to school. One evening I had gone to the local park to play football with mates when I noticed cousin Sara walking with two friends. We spotted each other at about the same time, and we both became flushed with embarrassment, or perhaps it was excitement. Either way, we both tried to avoid each other’s gaze, but before long we had to acknowledge the other, as her friends had started calling me over to talk. I must admit that I began to panic a bit, because it crossed my mind that Sara might well have shown her new friends the photo she’d taken of me masturbating only a few weeks earlier. Soon, however, my fears were eased, as Sara’s friends chatted with me without any hint of them knowing. Sara on the other hand was very subdued; not at all like the confident girl I knew.

Throughout the conversation Sara said very little, and she rarely lifted her eyes from the ground. But as her friends bid me good-bye, Sara looked directly at me and said “Are you okay, then?” I nodded in response. “Good, because I miss you,” she continued, before turning to walk away. Then, after a couple of paces, she turned her head back to me slightly and in a low voice simply added, “I’m sorry.”

I looked at her face; she was biting her lower lip as if to hold back more and I thought I could even discern tears welling in her eyes. I was speechless. As she turned again and began to run I called, “Sara,” but it came as a whisper that she did not hear. 

On another occasion, my sister Jenny and I had been invited to go swimming at her friend’s house. Jenny was and still is the most wonderful sister imaginable. Words like 'warm', 'funny', 'kind', 'beautiful' and 'gentle' do not do her justice. Despite the fact that we are twins (of the non identical variety), we have very little in common, and yet we always got on so well. Her friend Molly, by comparison, was rather unattractive and dull of personality. In time this would change, but for now Molly was a slightly overweight girl with crooked teeth and the worst haircut I’d ever seen. At almost seventeen, she was a little older than Jenny, and she used this to rule over my sister at every opportunity. Jenny, however, seemed to accept it all with good grace. 

On the day in question, I remember waiting outside the pool-house changing room while Molly and Jenny got into their bathing costumes. After what seemed like an age, both girls appeared and rushed to the pool, as I went to change. Now, as I entered the changing room, I can honestly say that I had absolutely no sexual thoughts at all, having relieved myself fully only an hour or so before. And yet as I pulled my boxer shorts to the ground I felt the first stirrings of an erection that within seconds grew to its full proportions.

Of course, I knew there was no way that I could appear from the changing room in that state, and without even thinking through the situation my hand made an involuntary movement to grasp myself. I began the slow motion of pulling my foreskin backward and forward, each time covering my glistening, purple sex-head. It was then that I noticed a pile of clothes on the floor to my left, belonging to Molly and Jenny. Looking more closely, I realised that on top of the pile were two pairs of panties. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself reaching down and picking them up. My strokes slowed, as I examined the two delicate pairs of knickers more carefully.

I didn’t have a clue as to which were Molly’s and which were Jenny’s, but by now that wasn’t going to deter me. I stretched open the gusset of the first pair, which were a light yellow colour, and noticed that it was damp and slightly discoloured. Quickly I brought the gusset up to my nose and breathed deeply of the warm moistness, while building the speed of my masturbatory strokes. I could feel the dampness against my face, as I gasped in the heavenly perfume and licked at the juices. Turning my attention to the second pair, which were white and covered in blue polka dots, I saw that these were also damp in the centre, with a dried crust towards the edges. I buried my face into these too, and licked greedily. By now I was on the verge, and soon I was pressing both pairs of knickers to the head of my penis and covering them with pre-cum, but fortunately I had enough good sense to pull away from them just as I burst my load. If I had have ejaculated on them I don’t know how I would have cleaned them up or explained it away.

What finally made me realise that I was losing all sense was the visit of my half-sister Katie, about a week before I returned to school. At 27, Katie was eleven years older than both Jenny and I, and she hadn’t lived with us for almost eight years. We didn’t see her all that often, but now she was to be with us for a long weekend. As was usual, Katie managed to take over the whole household within a couple of hours of arriving. It’s not that I disliked her, but her bossiness could be somewhat irritating at times. Having looked after us when we were younger, Katie clearly continued to see Jenny and I as a pair of brats that existed solely to run around after her.

At about 5.4”, she was only slightly shorter than I and over the last few years she had filled out a bit, particularly her breasts. On the last night of her stay with us, I’d managed to beat her to the bath, and as I lay relaxing in it I could hear her stomping around outside the door, fuming. Every few minutes there would come a banging at the door, and Katie’s screams of “Hurry up, I want to bath and go to bed.” But I was in no hurry. Then, after about twenty minutes of this, I detected a distinct change in the tone of her voice. It had changed from a harsh screech to a begging urgency, as she cried, “Please, I’m desperate for a pee.”

I laughed at the thought of her predicament, but I called back “Okay, wait a minute while I get…” I did not have time to finish the sentence as the door flew open and Katie rushed in. She slammed the door shut behind her and made a dash for the loo, her legs buckling underneath her as she clenched them together. Turning towards me, she hurriedly reached under the white and blue, striped T-shirt that just covered her upper thighs and slipped her knickers down around her ankles before plonking herself down on the seat. Her knees remained tightly closed as I watched the agony on her face turn to ecstasy. As I heard the last drops drain from her, she opened her eyes with a start and stared directly at me.

“Stop looking, then,” she yelled, but I was looking and the sight reminded me of what had happened with Cecile a few short weeks earlier. That memory soon began to swell my penis, as I shifted about in the bath to try and cover it. I might have been flushed with embarrassment, but Katie didn’t have any such qualms. After all, I was nothing more to her then a sexless younger brother, who she’d seen naked countless times before. I centred my gaze on the bath taps ahead of me, so as not to give away my thoughts, yet I could not help myself from sly glances her way every couple of seconds. Of course, there was nothing really to be seen, but it was highly erotic.

Before long she was on her feet and dabbing herself dry under her T-shirt. Then she reached down and slid her panties up, washed her hands, and headed for the door. Reaching it she stopped. “I better wash these before I leave tomorrow evening,” she said letting her knickers drop to the floor once more, and scooping them up she tossed them into the washing basket. Once again she turned to me. “Right, you’ve got five minutes to get out of here,” she said in a stern voice. 

Climbing from the bath, I could not help but to flash a glance at Katie’s dirty, black panties. And as much as I knew that I shouldn’t, soon I was stood with them in hand. My penis buzzed with excitement as I lifted the gusset to my nostrils. Her vaginal scent mixed with a dribbling of her pee was pungent and very warm on my face. First I licked at the gusset, until the urge took me to place it between my lips a suck the juices from it. My penis strained at the sensation. Pulling Katie’s knickers from my mouth I wrapped the head of my shaft in them and let go six or seven strong spurts of semen. Almost at once after I finished I realised what I had done, and feelings of guilt washed over me. Quickly I buried her knickers deep in the washing basket, and retired to bed.  

Without doubt, ones early sexual experiences are formative; they colour, taint, and dictate our desires. My panty fetish did not abate, but ultimately it was less than satisfying. In bed that night I struggled with my conscience. I had to stop these thoughts and get back to a normal existence. Despite all that had happened over the last few weeks, I was still a pathetic, geeky, virgin, with little chance of changing it. As September rolled around, I hoped that a return to school would be my salvation.