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It's always worth asking... - Simon - 11-24-2025
Chapter 1
"You miss one hundred percent of the opportunities you don't take advantage of."
I glanced back over my shoulder at the television. The presenter's cheerful voice caught my attention, although I generally wasn't interested in the programs my mother turned on during the day to distract her while she cleaned.
“We’ve all heard it before, but it’s so true, George, so true. Just like: ‘It’s always a no until you ask.’”
The two white figures on the television were sitting in a position that even I recognized as the typical "casual interviewer-interviewee position." Their chairs were slightly turned toward the audience as they fired off pre-prepared sentences and answers. I shrugged and turned back to my muesli. Boring.
That stuff was always boring, and it was the first week of summer! I could already feel months of schoolwork falling away from me, like a cocoon from a butterfly. I could enjoy the next few months, apart from the usual chores I always had to do, and I certainly wasn't going to waste them watching talk shows.
"Nnamdi! Take care of your sister!"
My mother's voice was strong and carried well from the upstairs hallway of our terraced house. Her accent was still quite noticeable, even though she'd lived in the countryside for almost 25 years, and she told people it was her way of staying connected to her past. I didn't really know what a marketing firm was, but my mother loved her work, and in our terraced house, modest as we were, there was always plenty of food, toys, and laughter. I knew that wasn't always the case for some of my friends.
The plea didn't stop me from rolling my brown eyes as I shoveled another large spoonful of the sweet cereal into my mouth. My little sister Yetunde wasn't exactly terrible; she just seemed to be constantly in my way lately, always wanting to come along or join in. Even though we'd played together for years, I desperately longed for my own independence.
“Mom, where is Mr. Hoppits?” my sister called from the living room, where she was probably looking for the stuffed animal that she took everywhere with her.
Even though I had to take her with me, I knew this would be the summer of my independence. I was old enough now to be out on my bike almost all day without having to track every minute, and so were most of my friends. It really didn't matter what we ended up doing; I was sure that every minute would be better because of the freedom I would have. Well, as free as I could be with a ten-year-old in tow.
I threw the now-empty bowl into the sink and shouted, "Leave in five minutes, Dee!" as I ran towards the stairs. I dashed into my room, opened the drawers, and quickly grabbed basketball shorts and a clean T-shirt. Then, I remembered, I also got some underwear.
They were boxer shorts that I'd only picked out last year, after complaining to my mother that I was too old for baby underwear and needed something more grown-up. She'd laughed at the time, but she'd taken me anyway, and I loved the way the cotton fit around my waist and legs.
Comfortable, and for some reason I felt more grown-up in the tight clothes. It just took me a little longer to apply the sunscreen. Arms, legs, feet, elbows, knees – my mother made it very clear that she wouldn't subject herself to the embarrassment of ashen-faced children in public.
I changed my clothes, brushed my teeth for roughly the prescribed two minutes, and ran back downstairs, barely touching a step as I thundered into the living room. Despite my efforts, my sister Yetunde (Dee for short) was waiting there, ready and eager to leave, sucking her thumb and holding her worn and patched stuffed rabbit, Mr. Hoppit, in her lap.
Guiltily, she pulled her thumb out of her mouth as I entered the room, but I just shook my head. She was pretty enough, I suppose, with skin like pale milk chocolate and large brown eyes. Mother had already tied her black, curly hair into three ponytails, each secured in three places with tiny rubber bands.
I felt a moment of embarrassment when I realized what I was doing… finding my sister pretty always made me feel awkward, even though our parents had insisted we avoid the kind of brother-sister squabbles some of my friends had. I was the oldest, so I had to look after her no matter what, and she was expected to behave when I was in charge. My father said that's how it had been in his family, too.
The eldest always looked after the others, and he always teased Uncle Ngozi when he came by, asking why he didn't take care of them anymore.
With a slightly grumpy wave, I beckoned her out the front door, and she eagerly jumped up, clutching the mended stuffed rabbit that had been repaired countless times. She took it everywhere, and although I thought it was silly, my parents had said it was just a phase and we shouldn't bother her about it so she could get used to it and grow out of it. Our bikes were in the plastic shed at the side of the house, and I helped her pull hers out before getting mine, waiting until she had carefully placed Mr. Hoppits in the front basket before climbing onto the seat.
"Remember, Dee, you have to keep your balance and put your feet on the ground if you fall." She was sometimes a little unsteady, so I'd hold out my hand and give her a quick smile as I helped her keep her bike upright while she put her feet on the pedals and started riding. I rode without any trouble, and the bike, although not new, was still good. I'd gotten it for Christmas two years earlier, and my dad occasionally helped me clean and repair it.
It wasn't far for a bike ride, less than ten minutes down the road, two bends, and then a dead end. Laughing, I corrected Dee when she was aiming for the wrong house, pointed to my friend's house, and waved her over. I tossed my bike onto the grass with the others—Daiju and his older brother Hatsuo had obviously been out that morning—and banged on the door several times with my fist. Daiju's house was about the same size as mine, but only one story, and the dead end led to some kind of canal that ran behind the houses.
So I had to be loud because they sometimes hung out in the backyard. A few moments and a few shouts later, a Japanese boy with shaggy hair and an infectious grin opened the door and waved us in. I bumped fists with him as we passed, Daiju rubbed Dee's head, which earned him a quick glance, and we went back to his room. He still shared a room with Hatsuo, so the game console was in their room, and the game console was our target. Dee sat down on a beanbag in the corner and watched as Daiju and I sat on the edge of his bed and turned on the console.
"So, nobody plays Jiggypuff," he said immediately.
"Wait, why not?" I didn't choose it often, but sometimes I was frustrated and wanted the easy win.
"Because he's just so mean and mean and mean, and you just can't beat him!" protested Daiju.
"So he's bad, but too overpowered?" I joked and laughed at myself, even though Daiju just rolled his eyes and the gameplay started. It wasn't long before we were right in the thick of it, hunched over the TV, pushing each other to make our moves.
"Hey, you blew me away!"
"Stop defending yourself, you idiot!"
Eventually, Hatsuo came in, the older one with a few metal chains around his neck, his hair slicked back, and even a small mustache. Daiju usually admired his nearly 18-year-old brother and always tried to follow Hatsuo everywhere, but we were in the middle of our brawl and barely gave him a grunt when he came in. He watched for a few minutes, offering a comment here and there on our strategy, before leaving again. Dee had been quiet most of the time, watching the screen almost as intently as we did. He would shout out when one of us made a particularly good play, shake Mr. Hoppits in front of the screen, and cheer on one or two of us.
“I need to go to the pub,” Dee said at one point, and I made a vague go-go gesture, my eyes still glued to the screen as I battled Daiju. Almost thirty minutes later, the best-of-five match was finally over, and I dropped the controller in mock disgust.
"Link is impossible to break. I think they made him stronger because they liked him."
"No," Daiju replied with a hand gesture. "You just don't know how to play them. Hey," he glanced at the empty beanbag. "Shouldn't you be looking after your sister? Where did she go?"
“To the bathroom,” I said automatically, before I realized it had been a while since she’d asked. I suddenly stood up, images of broken vases and shattered bathroom shelves flashing through my mind. Mrs. Ogawa would definitely call my mother if Dee had messed something up, and my mother would blame me.
"Help me find her!" I said, nudging Daiju on the shoulder as I stood up. "You go forward, I'll go backward."
I immediately set off, trying to move as quickly and smoothly as possible without looking like anything was wrong. I'd heard the expression "walk naturally" somewhere before, and that's exactly what went through my head as I pushed open the back door and looked around for Dee.
Had the grown-ups figured it out? I searched the veranda for the spots where Dee sometimes hid when they played hide-and-seek outside, muttering to myself in frustration. I went down into the garden, thinking she might be playing with the dog near the back shed, when I spotted Mr. Hoppits in the grass next to a small clump of plants by the canal bank. Water flowed down there during the rainy season, so there were always more plants, bushes, and other things there than elsewhere, and some of them were quite tall.
Mr. Hoppits was standing next to a clump nearly two meters tall, a rather large gathering of giant weeds and plants that had grown over the years. As I bent down to pick up the stuffed rabbit, I heard what sounded like a moan. Definitely a sound of pleasure. I didn't have much experience with that sort of thing myself, but that seemed to make it even clearer. I paused, my fingers stroking the rabbit's faux fur, and listened. There was a soft murmur, and then the sound came again, from somewhere in the bushes.
I was now interested, curious, and, if I was honest, a little excited. Were there adults? I picked up the rabbit and crept cautiously into the bushes, moving slowly and trying to listen. Muffled voices, people trying to be quiet, but definitely two.
"Do you have... that?"
“Yes,… n.”
I quietly approached, pushing small leaves and stems out of the way. I could almost see now where the bushes had grown, with a hollow inside, not exactly in the middle, but far enough in that it couldn't be seen from the outside, and there were figures there.
“…like me?”
„Mmmhmm.“
"Do you want to do more things that feel good?" I could now make out figures, one larger and one smaller, and I could see the smaller one's face. It was Dee! The larger figure was rubbing its chest, its fingers stroking a certain spot, and I saw Dee tremble slightly under the touch and let out that soft moan again. I froze. My little sister was making that sound? I felt a warm throb in my stomach at the sound. What made her make that sound? Why did it make me so...interested?
I couldn't see the other person clearly, so I started to move sideways, cautiously, slowly, still hidden by the thick veil of grasses and leaves. First, I noticed the taller man's hands on his hips and realized he was pulling out his penis. It was hard and longer than anything I'd ever seen, and he was rubbing it with his fist. Then the man bent down to kiss Dee on the lips, and I almost screamed. It was Hatsuo! Daiju's older brother was touching himself and my sister! Dee smiled at the kiss as the boy pulled away, and then I saw him reach down, place his hand on the back of her head, and pull her forward.
“Go on, kiss it for me,” he said, a little breathless, and gripped it so tightly I could see the tip swell as Dee’s small, ten-year-old lips brushed against it and she made a kissing sound. This time it was the boy who groaned, his body trembling.
"Just a little more," he whispered, "like this, longer and deeper in your mouth."
Dee leaned forward again. I could see his hand pressing firmly, but not too roughly, against the head of her penis. The younger girl opened her lips and kissed the head more intensely this time, maintaining contact for several seconds. The older teenager moved his hand quickly and groaned again as his fist slid up and down the shaft. He gasped as Dee pulled away, looking somewhat frightened.
"That was so, so good!" he said, bending down to kiss her lips again. She smiled at him. "Now, will you show me yours?"
She frowned and looked at him, confused. "My what?" "Your yoni," he said, "I mean, your, um... cat?" The first word had obviously meant nothing to her, but at the second, her face brightened, and she nodded, took a step back, and reached down, nonchalantly pulling up her shirt and down her skirt to show him the tiny hearts and flowers that adorned her pale yellow underwear. The cotton was so thin that even I could see the slight bulge between her legs, and Hatsuo's gaze was immediately drawn to it. His hand slid from her breast down, and she began to squirm slightly. I couldn't tell if she was just ticklish or something else, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.
"Just let me touch you for a second," he murmured breathlessly, as his hand moved faster along his waist, rubbing his fingers over the mound of her panties.
She shuddered slightly, and then I heard that soft moan again. I was hard in my shorts, harder than ever, I think. And when I heard that soft moan and saw what was happening, my penis twitched. Unconsciously, my hand reached down and gently squeezed the hardness, a small movement that almost mimicked the twitching Hatsuo was making all along as he touched Dee.
"NNAMDI!" "DID YOU LOOK IN THE BACKYARD?"
Daiju's voice came from the direction of the house, and I saw the two of them stand up in the small clearing. The boy started fiddling with his jeans and turned away, and Dee immediately adjusted her clothes in fear. I crept back through the bushes, giving them a few seconds, before stepping into the clearing and presenting myself to a scarred-looking Dee standing alone. I opened my arms, and she ran the few steps toward me and hugged me tightly. Her small limbs closed around my waist as I held her for a few seconds before pulling away.
“Everything alright, Dee?” I asked, and she nodded, but hesitated briefly before answering.
I took her by the hand and led her back to Daiju's house. I explained to her that this time she should stay inside and not run around in the garden alone. She was quiet and obedient, didn't complain or resist. When I glanced at her occasionally while she was playing, I noticed she was sucking her thumb again. The doctor said the oral fixation was a safety response and that it would stop on its own, but it bothered Mom, so we tried to discourage her. I thought about it, but then ignored it and continued to glance at it now and then while she was playing.
Eventually she seemed to calm down, letting go of her thumb to ask questions about the game or laughing when one of the characters was flung against the screen as if it had hit the camera, and I relaxed a little more. But the images in my head—her lips on Hatsuo's penis or the sight of his fingers rubbing against her panties—flipped through my mind no matter what was happening.
I lost even more than usual, and Daiju immediately teased me about it.
"Man, it didn't matter that we didn't have Jigglypuff, that's 8 in a row!"
He cheered when he stood up after the last match and reenacted my last defeat against invisible opponents.
"Just hit yourself with the racket and *whoosh*, straight off the edge!"
“We should have turned off the objects too,” I muttered, giving him a shove that made him stagger a step to the side before he looked at me, screamed, lunged at me, and threw me back onto the bed where we had been sitting.
Laughing, we rolled around for minutes, the wrestling alternating between trying to hold each other down, tickling, and pretending to chew on limbs. Yetunde stood up and went to the edge of the bed, laughing at us both and occasionally leaning forward to hit us both with Mr. Hoppits. After the second or third smack, we looked at each other and then started yelling, leaning forward, grabbing her, and, to our growls and her giggles, pulling her onto the bed between us. The whole thing quickly became about tickling her until she could barely breathe.
I let go of her so she could catch her breath, then collapsed onto the bed, gasping for air, and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then I noticed my shorts were tight in the front again, just like they had been in the garden. I turned so it wouldn't be noticeable and covered them with my leg, glancing over at the other two, desperately wondering if anyone had noticed. It didn't look like it, but I did notice Daiju was wearing the same tight shorts and lying on his back like me, though he didn't seem to have noticed. I tried to remember if it had happened while I was roughhousing with Daiju or when Dee had joined in. Honestly, I couldn't remember, and it hurt a little. Did I like boys? Did that mean anything?
Mrs. Ogawa called after lunch, and I told him we had to go home. I would normally have stayed longer, but I had a strange feeling about what had happened, didn't quite know what it meant, and felt a little guilty for not having watched her more closely. A quick jab with Daiju, another head massage for Dee, and we were outside again, back on our bikes.
On the drive home, I wrestled with what had happened for a while. I watched, watched as someone touched her, and I was supposed to be watching her. But she didn't seem annoyed or compelled; it sounded as if she was going along with it, maybe even enjoying it. Did that matter? And was it wrong how much I had enjoyed watching? How far would it have gone if I hadn't stopped? Eventually, the desire to avoid trouble won out, especially as we got closer to home.
"What were you doing in the garden?" I asked as casually as possible.
“Visiting,” she said.
"With whom?"
“Hastuo,” she replied softly after a long moment of silence.
"Hastuo was there? I didn't see him."
"He ran away before you found me," she said, without looking in my direction.
"Well, you should stay close to me," I said, trying to avoid trouble. "And you should really be in the bathroom."
Then she fell silent, her head hanging slightly down, and I slowed down a little so she could stop beside me.
“How about we just don’t mention it, okay?” She looked at me hopefully, then scrutinized me to see if I was teasing her. “Honestly, I’m not going to tell Mom and Dad, and neither are you. Just say we were at Daiju’s playing, which is true.” She glanced thoughtfully back and forth between me and the road, then finally nodded with a relieved smile. We cycled home, put our bikes in the shed, and went inside to make lunch.
The rest of the day passed in a fog of nervousness. I distracted myself and forgot everything, then remembered what had happened and waited to see if Yetunde would tell our parents or if they would find out somehow. By the time dinner was over, I was pretty sure she wouldn't say anything. I even offered to help her bathe, I felt so carefree. And honestly, maybe that was because I thought it would help her stay cheerful and keep quiet if I did something for her. My mother looked at me strangely for a moment, but then shrugged and said it was good that I was looking after my younger sister.
As I entered the bathroom where she was bathing, I realized there might have been other reasons for my sudden burst of selflessness, and I stared through the water at my sister's slender body. I still remembered how Hatsuo had brushed against her breast, making her moan, and as I looked at her, I wondered if he might have touched her nipples. They were little more than small bumps on her chest, but I couldn't think of anything that would elicit a reaction other than her skin. My gaze drifted downward as she washed her body, and that part was clearly visible.
Unlike the hundreds of times before when I'd seen my sister naked, this time I couldn't help but hear that soft moan and see those fingers rubbing against her panties, and I got an erection again. I helped her wash up, which was the part where she really needed help, and then I dried her off, oiled her hair, and rubbed lotion on her back and elbows. All the while, I tried in vain to get the images from that morning out of my head, and every time I even came close to touching her anywhere Hatsuo had touched her, I felt a slight tremor. By the time it was time for bed, I was so excited that I was glad I no longer had to hide the constant erections.
In bed, after my parents had come and gone from both my and Dee's rooms, I pulled down the covers along with my pajama bottoms and looked at myself. My parents never came back unless there was a problem, so I wasn't afraid of being caught. I could see the sparse curls of my dark hair around my hips and the brown foreskin covering my penis. I had compared it to other boys at school in the changing room and knew I was a little taller than some of them, but shorter than others.
My thoughts drifted back to that morning, to the sight of Hastuo moving his fist back and forth, and Dee leaning forward and pressing her lips to it. Was that… spanking him? Choking the chicken? Other boys at school had laughed and made jokes about “running away” and a dozen other funny names for it, but the pantomime was always the same. Clenched fist, up-and-down wrist movement. Of course, I'd touched myself and even played with it a little when it was hard, noticing the pleasant tingling sensation as I rubbed the underside of the glans.
But the memory of watching the older boy this morning made me hard almost instantly, and I couldn't resist the urge to reach down, wrap my fingers around the firm brown shaft, and move it as he had. I grasped it lightly, still a little afraid of hurting myself, lifted it, felt the soft skin curl and roll beneath my fingers, watched the dark skin slide over the lighter brown of the tapered tip, and took a deep breath at the sensation. It was somehow different from mere rubbing. More perfect? And I couldn't believe it was such an easy movement. My curled fingers almost fell back down before I realized it. The downward motion was just as pleasurable as the upward one.
Then I realized something I hadn't considered before—the foreskin acted like a sheath, and I could stroke it over my penis… cock? Was that a better word, more like what the boys at school called it when they talked about it? I could stroke the foreskin up and down my penis without any painful friction on the sensitive glans. Just like Hatsuo, I thought, and the heat from the memory made a clear drop of fluid trickle onto the glans.
I moved my hand down the shaft again, watching the fluid smear around the tip as the skin gathered there. It felt even better with the extra bit of fluid. Maybe smoother? I found a steady rhythm now, breathing heavily as my hand moved up and down, my hips rotating and thrusting slightly upwards to resist my grip as I moved faster. I thought of the scene in the garden, Hatsuo touching my sister's chest, her kissing him, pressing her lips to his as he masturbated.
Was that a blowjob? I had words for activities I couldn't quite name, vague descriptions of "chicken heads" and the movements involved, but it seemed like it might be. I wished once that the other guys were less boastful and would describe in more detail what they had seen and done, or read and heard.
All of that quickly faded, however, as my hand slid faster and faster up and down my shaft, and the sight of Hatsuo's fingers reaching down, brushing against my sister's panties, making her moan, suddenly sent a surge of pleasure through me. I shuddered and moaned softly as the penis throbbed in my hand, growing harder and harder, as it seemed to quiver from base to tip, spurting fluid. One surge of pleasure after another coursed through my hips as the white stuff sprayed against my hand, which was now still, squeezing rhythmically, over my hips and down to the hem of my pajama top. It was brilliant white, almost pearly against my dark skin, and I stared at it for a long time, wide-eyed.
Little spasms of pleasure still flickered between my legs, and I could hear my rapid breathing in the otherwise silent room. It felt… incredible! I grinned as I looked down, feeling the slowly fading sensations drain away, leaving me exhausted but satisfied. THAT'S why the guys always talked about it. Now that I knew… and I remembered the memory that had excited me so much. The sight and sounds of Dee. My cock—I was definitely calling it that now—throbbed slightly as the memory shot through me again.
I lay there for a long time, not quite sure what it all meant, mainly indulging in the sensations I felt, but the realization that the substance on my skin was quickly getting cold finally broke through and urged me to clean myself somehow.
I hadn't really planned how I was going to clean myself up—how could I? But I knew if I left it lying around on my pajamas and sheets, someone would probably see it. A discarded sock quickly came to my rescue, and I wiped the now-cold, sticky mess off my hips and stomach, using it with my other hand to wipe the one I'd used for my exploration. As I tossed the sock into my dirty laundry basket in the corner of the room, I noticed a small stain of it on the back of my hand.
I paused, stared at him for a moment, wondered, then quickly leaned forward and licked him. Of course, I'd heard about it at school, and I had to admit I felt a little behind the times if all the other boys' stories were even a tiny percentage of the truth. It was salty, slightly bitter, but it wasn't disgusting and didn't make me wince. The image flashed through my mind again of Hatsuo's tip touching my sister's mouth, and I wondered if it would have tasted or felt different if it had happened that way.
With a jumbled mix of images and thoughts, assumptions and stories in my head, I fell asleep. A feeling of physical satisfaction, unlike anything I had ever known before, filled my body with warm lethargy.