“I’m sorry, T. I didn’t know that’s what you wanted.”We didn’t talk at all during breakfast, and not even while the dishes were washed and dried. Finally, I led my sister into the living room. I sat her on the sofa and I took a seat in Dad’s recliner. “Now, what do you want to know?”She seemed genuinely shy for the first time. She had her hands folded in her lap and she was staring down at them. “Everything.” She mumbled.I decided to be totally honest with her, “T, you know I’m a virgin, right?” When she nodded, I continued, “I don’t know that much more than you do.”“Linda Taylor.” She blurted out.Like most kids in Texas, I’d gotten my driver’s license after Driver’s Ed when I was fourteen. I’d started dating Linda just after I turned fifteen. I’d taken her to the movies a few times and we’d gone parking twice. “She taught me how to kiss, and she let me feel her boobs through her clothes.”“She has big boobs.” My little sister said with a giggle.“Yes she does.” I admitted, “But when I. She had put on a pair of silky French knickers and a lacy bra under her business blouse and suit and drove to the station to get the train to London, arriving about mid morning. She had arranged to go to the front of Waterloo station where Fred would be waiting for her in his car. He had been very blunt about what he wanted - a day of sex with her. This was partly what appealed to her, a man who knew what he wanted and should be experienced enough to do it properly. He was quite dominant which again appealed to her as she liked the man (or men) to be in charge so she had no choice but to go along with whatever they tell her to do.She told me about the day :I read my magazine on the train but found it hard to concentrate. I felt like a whore on my way to an assignment - I had often said that I would not have minded being a high class call girl but it would have to be high class with well groomed men in luxurious surroundings. I am sufficiently confident of what I do to believe that I.
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