I woke up when I felt Bo climbing into my bed. “Hey,” I said, a little groggy. I shuffled over a bit to make room, turned onto my side to face her.
“Hey,” she replied.
She’d lifted up the blanket and was now tucking herself in beside me. She rolled onto her side as well and shone a smile in my face.
“Back in your pyjamas?” I asked.
“Yeah. Why wear anything but your most comfy clothes on a Sunday morning?” she said.
“You have a point,” I conceded, and paused. “Why are we talking so quietly?”
“I don’t know,” she said, still talking quietly. We giggled.
Bo had a small towel wrapped around her hair. She was emanating a warm glow and a mesmerizing smell of shampoo and soap.
“You look like a newly minted penny,” I told her.
“Thanks,” she said, beaming like one. She snuggled up closer until her face was just an inch from mine. I felt her hand touching my arm.
I really wanted to kiss her, but was too afraid to make that first move. I was scared of how intense my feelings were when she was next to me. The sentence formed in my mind for the first time. I have a crush on her. I have a crush on my sister.
“Are you okay?” Bo said.
“Yeah,” I said. Does she see it in my face? I thought, and immediately felt silly for thinking she could.
I gathered up as much courage as I could muster and asked her, “Could I maybe get a kiss?” My voice sounded strange to me.
“Hmmm,” Bo said, making a serious face. Then she smiled and said, “Why, yes.” She leaned in and gave me a soft little kiss on the lips, then drew away.
I said, “Wait, you forgot your change,” and kissed her back. I let my lips linger on hers. They’re so soft, I thought. My heart was turning upside down in my chest. I think this is what they call butterflies in your stomach, but it feels heavier than that. It’s almost making me nauseous.
When I moved away from her, it felt like minutes had passed.
Bo touched her forehead to mine. “It feels so cozy and nice, lying next to you. I really enjoyed our bath, too,” she said.
“Same here,” I responded.
Does she have a crush on me too? Would that mean I’m corrupting her? Or is this just how Bo thinks sisters should be with each other? I didn’t know which seemed worse.
A soft gurgling sound disrupted the quiet from underneath the blanket. Bo’s eyes widened.
I chuckled. “Was that your tummy?”
“Yeah. I think it’s hungry,” she said.
The sound repeated itself, but this time, it was my stomach that made it. Bo and I looked into each other’s eyes, trying to keep it together. I said, “I think our tummies are having a conversation,” laughter bubbling up beneath my words. Bo let out a titter, and that sealed our fate.
We looked at each other for another second, then it just started streaming out of our pores. We held each other through a convulsive fit of laughter, spurred on by the grimaces we were making as we laughed. Bo put on a low voice, still bubbling, and said, “Why have these girls not fed us yet?” making us burst into another raucous fit of hilarity.
“Let’s eat some breakfast then,” I suggested once we quieted down.
“Sounds good,” Bo said. “You get up first, though.”
I extricated myself from our hug, slipped out from under the blanket and got up. Behind me, I heard Bo make a sound.
“You’re not wearing pants,” she remarked.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, looking down at myself dumbly.
I was shocked to see that my panties were so damp that a small dark spot showed on the outside. That had never happened before. For a second, I even thought I’d peed myself during our laughter fit, but I would have noticed that. This was definitely a result of my horniness. Thankfully, I was facing away from Bo.
“I was all hot after the bath, so I didn’t bother putting them on before my nap,” I told her casually as I bent to pick my pyjama pants up from where they lay on the floor and stepped into them.
Bo just said, “Oh.”
I turned around to face her. She was still snuggled up beneath the blanket.
“I guess I’ll get up, too,” she said sadly.
“What, now you don’t want to?” I asked. “I thought your tummy was begging you to feed it.”
“Yeah, but the rest of me likes being all toasty warm in here,” Bo replied, then shrugged. “Guess I gotta do it sometime, though.” With that, she freed herself from the blanket and sat up, lazily stretching.
In that moment, inspiration struck me. I took a quick step back to the bed and bent down, thrust one arm underneath Bo’s knees, wrapped the other one around her back and picked her up in one fell swoop.
“Whoa!” Bo yelled in surprise, slinging an arm around my shoulder for support. “What are you doing?” She was already giggling.
“Picking you up,” I said, and started lumbering around the room with her, as if I was Frankenstein’s monster carrying her away.
“Let me down, you, you goof!” she demanded loudly, in between squeals of laughter.
“Sure thing,” I said. Stomping back to my bed, I threw her onto the mattress.
Bo shrieked when she landed, then made a face at me. “Hey! What was that for?” She tried to say it in a stern tone, but couldn’t quite conceal her amusement.
“I thought you said, ‘Let me down.’” I shrugged.
“Not like that!” she exclaimed. And yet, scrambling back into a sitting position, she raised her arms up and said, “Again, again!”
“Okay,” I said, laughing.
Like before, Bo wrapped her arm around my shoulder as I picked her up. She was a little heavier than I’d imagined, but I enjoyed feeling her weight in my arms. I loved knowing that I was strong enough to carry her. I could pick her up any time I like, I thought.
“Throw me on the bed again!” she insisted.
“Nope. Got other plans,” I told her.
I walked out of my room into the little hallway that led to the staircase, stopping in front of our parents’ room.
“Can’t carry you down the stairs, though. C’mon, let’s go have breakfast,” I told Bo and set her down.
“Okay. Thanks for the ride, Lees,” she said and skipped downstairs ahead of me.
Going down the stairs, I was very aware of the dampness between my legs. I’d only come some twenty minutes earlier, but I was already feeling needy again.
Dad was in the kitchen, making himself some coffee. Next to him, Bo was putting a loaf of bread on the cutting board. Taking up a knife, she started to saw off some slices. The clock said 9:30 now.
“Morning,” Dad said. He scratched the beard stubble on his neck. “You girls were making quite the ruckus up there.”
“Morning, Dad,” I said. “Did we wake you up?”
“Nah. I’ve been awake for half an hour, but I got up when I heard you guys. What were you up to?” he asked.
“Oh, just playing,” I said.
Bo looked up from her cutting board and gave Dad a smile. “We took a bath earlier. Then we cuddled. And then Lisa started carrying me around and dropped me on the bed,” she explained.
Dad looked at her for a second, clearly confused — but then, thankfully, the water for his coffee began to boil and for a moment, it was too loud for conversation.
Bo put away the big bread knife, got a butter knife from the drawer and checked the fridge for spreads. I made myself busy too, thinking it might distract Dad. I opened the cupboard, took out the Nutella and gave it to Bo who was in the process of spreading butter on the bread slices.
Dad poured the boiling water from the electric kettle into the coffee pot next to me. I watched the water stream over the ground coffee powder, filling up the paper filter. I’d tried coffee before and hated the taste, but in a strange dichotomy, the fresh smell of it was amazing. When all the water had seeped through the filter, Dad poured some more over the grounds that had gathered on the sides. Observing this ritual never lost its fascination to me. Sometimes I’d perform it myself, making coffee for Mom and Dad just because I enjoyed the process.
“Aren’t you a little old for taking baths with your sister?” Dad asked me.
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling nervous. “It was fun. I only stayed in with her for ten minutes or so.”
“She crowned me Princess Foamy,” Bo chimed in.
“And then you guys cuddled?” Dad asked.
“Yeah,” Bo said dreamily. “We gave each other kisses.”
Dad looked alarmed. I felt my stomach going tight. “Sisters don’t kiss each other,” he said.
“No, Dad, like this,” I said quickly.
I turned around to Bo and gave her a kiss on the forehead, praying to any gods that still loved me that Bo would get it and play along. Bo looked at me, confused for a few seconds, then she giggled, got up on her tiptoes and kissed me on the forehead, too.
“Yeah, like that,” she said.
“Oh, okay,” Dad said, seemingly fine with it. He got a mug from the cupboard, lifted the filter off the pot and poured himself some coffee.
I took a deep breath, relieved that Bo had backed me up. She could have given me away, I thought. She knows Dad doesn’t approve of sisters kissing, but she saved my ass. She probably doesn’t wanna lose this, either. Not that I was quite certain what “this” even was.
Bo was done with the bread. Some slices had Nutella on them, some jam, some cheese. She put them on plates while I filled two glasses with milk.
We took our breakfast to the living room and seated ourselves at the table. Dad sat down on the couch next to Mom, who was still reading her book.
There was a newspaper on the table next to me, and I idly flipped through it as I ate my bread. Then I found an item that got me excited.
“You guys!” I said. “The outdoor pool opens next Saturday!”
“Ohh, yeah,” Bo said, then turned to Mom and Dad. “Can we go?”
Mom smiled and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go. Maybe we should get annual tickets this year?”
The outdoor pool was a large swimming facility located on a hill one town over. We’d started going there the previous summer, and all four of us loved it.
Dad looked up from his coffee. “Annual tickets, eh? How much are they?” he said.
“I’ll call public services tomorrow and find out,” Mom said.
“Nice,” Bo and I said in unison. We looked at each other and high-fived across the table.
Mom laughed. “Let’s just hope the weather’s good on Saturday,” she said.
A few minutes later, Bo and I were in the kitchen putting our plates and glasses in the dishwasher when the phone rang. Bo went into the study to pick it up and talked to someone for a moment, excited.
When I got into the lobby, Bo went over to the living room door with the phone in her hand and asked our parents, “Can I go visit Rebecca?”
Mom and Dad were fine with that, so Bo smiled brightly and said into the phone, “Lemme just get dressed and I’ll come over… Okay, see you!”
I smiled to myself as Bo skipped upstairs. Rebecca was her best friend, and they would probably hang out together all day. This meant alone time for me, and I had a very good idea about what I would do with it.
“I’m gonna be in my room,” I told Mom and Dad.
“On the computer?” Dad said without looking up, acting like he knew the answer already.
“Yep,” I said, thrilled to be lying.
“Have fun,” he said, his mind elsewhere.
“Thanks,” I said, already turning toward the staircase.
Once in my room, I noticed that Bo had left her door open just a bit. From where I sat on the bed, I could see her taking off her pyjama top. The bottoms were already gone, so she was only wearing panties.
Even from behind, the view sent a shiver down my spine. I cupped the crotch of my pyjamas and felt my wet panties pressed to my pussy. Absentmindedly, I started to slowly caress myself. My pussy felt warm and slick underneath.
As Bo got dressed, she disappeared from my view. Not wanting her to catch me looking, I picked up a CD from the shelf next to my bed and pretended to be looking at it.
Seconds later, she came into my room with a bag over her shoulder and closed the door behind her, looking rushed.
“See you later, Lisa,” Bo said.
“Bye bye,” I said, giving her a smile and a wave.
Off she skidded, then I heard her stop halfway down the corridor and slowly walk back to my door. She stood in the doorway, gazing at me uncertainly.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Never mind,” she said and shook her head like she was tossing something off. “I love you, Lees.”
“I love you, too, Bo,” I said. She grinned and blew me a kiss. I touched my hand to my cheek, but Bo was already gone.
I waited till I heard her reach the bottom of the stairs, then languorously stripped out of my PJ bottoms and sat on my bed. Down to my shirt and panties, I leaned against the pillow with my legs spread.
I studied the wet spot on my panties in awe. It had grown considerably in size. I touched my crotch with the tips of my fingers and watched as even more wetness oozed into the material. My pussy felt hot and sensitive.
I massaged the panties into my slit. They were drenched already, but I loved playing with my pussy in this indirect way. The sensations were dampened, but still felt delicious.
I placed the fingertips of both hands just inside the hem of my panties and carefully pulled my outer pussy lips apart. My panties settled in place between them.
I used two fingers of one hand to keep pushing the crotch of the panties into my cavity, which caused them to tighten and stretch all around me. It also produced soft squishing noises that sounded dirty, and so very hot.
With my other hand, I made gentle circles right over my clit. With my pussy pried open, my clit was now rubbing against the material of my panties. I enjoyed how delicate the sensation felt, with the cotton between my fingers and my flesh.
I need to smell myself, I thought.
Hooking both of my thumbs into the waistband, I lifted my butt up from the bed and slowly began pulling my panties down. The crotch clung to my pussy, and made a squishing sound when it came off. A few thin strands of liquidy stuff hung between my pussy and my panties. I had the absurd association of melted cheese stretching between a fork and a pile of hot pasta.
Slipping my panties off, I brought the crotch to my face. It was absolutely soaked, covered in a glistening layer of fluids. The girls online call this pussy juice, I remembered. I held the gusset beneath my nostrils and breathed in the scent. I almost fainted.
In a way, the smell was reminiscent of pee, but it was much wilder, sexier, dirtier. This is what my lust smells like, I thought, my horniness, my womanhood. I inhaled deeply. The scent turned me on beyond belief. I’m smelling my pussy like it’s right in front of my face. The image made me quiver.
I looked at the gusset again, drenched with my pussy juice, and with an eerie sense of need, I knew I had to taste it. I extended my tongue and, before I knew what I was doing, gave the crotch a broad lick from the bottom to the top like it was a cone of ice cream.
I knew right then and there that I was addicted to it. My mouth was filled with the taste of arousal. It was filthy and wrong and I craved it.
Meanwhile, my pussy was crying out for attention. My pelvis felt like a hot pool of magma was slowly bubbling and oozing out of me. I put my panties down on the bed beside me and slid my middle finger through my juicy folds.
My lips were so slick that they made little wet sounds as I trailed my finger through them. I raised my finger up to face level and stared at it, wide-eyed. It was completely coated with my juices.
Without conscious thought, I put the wet finger on my temple and daubed a trail down one cheek. I felt like a squaw putting on war paint. I slid my finger through my slit one more time and repeated the pattern on the other side. The juice felt sticky on me, and I could smell it on my face. I shuddered with how forbidden and erotic this was, amazed at how wicked and filthy I was being. My face smells like pussy, I thought.
I sunk my fingertip into my cavity. It sounded like I dipped it into a glass of jam. I pushed it further, feeling around for the thin membrane of my hymen, but it wasn’t there anymore.
It’s been awhile since I stuck a finger in to check up on it, I thought. I’d read about girls losing their hymens from horse riding. Maybe it happened when Bo and I rode ponies for her birthday three months ago. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I might have been on my period at the time, so if I’d actually bled from losing my hymen, I wouldn’t have known.
I felt my face flush with excitement. This broken-down barrier signified thrilling new possibilities.
Very slowly, I worked my finger deeper into my pussy. At first, I felt something that wasn’t quite pain, more like pressure. Eventually though, my vagina gave and gave, and then my finger was inside up to the third knuckle. I stared at my hand in awe, picturing that finger inside my pussy.
I took a few deep breaths. My pussy was so tight around my finger I thought I could feel it contracting as I breathed. I felt like I was touching my very core. Still, the slow breathing helped relax me somewhat.
I’m about to finger myself, I thought. Some region deeper in my brain repeated the same notion — only in a sultry whisper, worded more dangerously: I’m going to fuck myself. I shivered again.
I felt like it was a special moment that I should honour. If I was going to do this, I wanted to be lying down. I looked over to my door, which was wide open. If I closed it, my parents would knock before they’d come in, giving me at least a few extra seconds to cover up in case they made their way to my room while I was too distracted to notice.
Slowly, I withdrew my finger from my pussy. Even that first time, I felt a subdued sense of disappointment at the new feeling of emptiness. Like being filled up is the more natural state, I thought.
Once my fingertip came into view, I saw that it looked like I’d stuck it into a jar of honey. It was totally coated in a layer of clear, sticky fluid. A glob had gathered on my fingertip, connecting to my pussy through a thin, wispy strand of juice.
Absolutely fascinated, I gazed wide-eyed as I moved my finger farther and farther away from my opening, waiting for the glistening strand to break. It finally did when my hand was about halfway between my pussy and my face. Some of the fluid landed on my mons, some on my PJ top.
I stared at my moist fingertip. I really wanted to lick it and taste my deepest, most secret place, but I told myself, Not yet. You can reward yourself with that afterwards. Be a good girl and tease yourself first.
I felt a strange sense of holiness as I opened my mouth slightly and put my finger to my lips, applying my pussy juice to them like makeup — first coating the bottom lip, then the top. This is how whores put on lipstick, I thought and shivered, wondering where that thought had come from.
I smacked my lips, noticing that I could faintly taste myself when I breathed through my mouth. So, of course, that’s what I did… doing my best to resist the temptation to just lick it all off right then and there.
I saw that my finger was still wet. Still feeling oddly spiritual, I used my other hand to lift up my bangs, then daubed the last residue of pussy juice on my forehead like a bindi. Letting my bangs fall back to cover it, I felt less like an individual and more like an avatar of all budding female lust. My forehead, temples, cheeks and mouth were painted with the invisible scented makeup of all naughty girls and every sacred slut. I sniffed my finger, that most private smell filling up my head like frankincense.
I had to shake my head to snap out of this trance. If Jehovah is listening to my thoughts, there’s no way I’m ever going to paradise, I thought, then surprised myself by chuckling at the notion. Somehow, this raw sexual heat was giving me much more profound feelings than service at congregation ever had.
I finally got up to close the door. Moving across the room, I could feel the air brush over my dripping pussy and the damp places where I’d painted my face. I imagined someone saying, Excuse me, young lady, but you’ve got pussy all over your face. Shaking my head again, I pulled the door shut.
Before I lay back down, I pondered whether I should take off my pyjama top. I usually preferred to keep it on and fondle my boobs underneath. However, I felt like this occasion merited complete nudity. Like a virgin on the altar, ready to sacrifice herself, I mused as I took off my top, still in disbelief over my own thoughts.
I lay down and gently placed my wet panties beside me on the pillow, turning my head to breathe in the scent. When I spread my legs, I noticed that even the insides of my thighs were sticky now, probably just from walking around. I ran my fingers back and forth over my outer lips, spreading the wetness all over my mound and through my pubic hair, amazed at how slick my pussy was.
I was pretty worked up already, so before long, I trailed my finger through my slit again. My pussy was so aroused that when I accidentally brushed over my exposed clit, it gave me a huge jolt. “Aahhhh!” I heard myself gasp.
Like before, I tentatively dipped a fingertip beneath my folds first, luxuriating in the sensation of swirling it through my wetness. Then slowly, oh so slowly, I nestled it into my vagina, my palm resting on my vulva. I didn’t feel as much resistance this time, but my pussy was still really tight around my finger. Once again, I basked in the feeling of being filled up.
Just as slowly, I retracted my finger all the way, feeling the inner lips fold shut behind it like a curtain of flesh. Needing more of that fullness, I slipped it back inside. The next time I withdrew it, I didn’t pull it out all the way before going back inside.
Very gradually, I built up a rhythm. I could feel my pussy play counterpart to my finger, almost as if it was trying to suck me back in when I pulled it out.
Whenever I hit the deepest spot, I paused, reveling in the sensation for a few seconds before continuing this little game. I could sink my finger in up to the third knuckle without hitting a dead end — which I knew from biology class would be my cervix. And beyond that lies the womb, I thought.
Penetrating myself grew easier and easier. My pussy was wetter than ever, producing delightful squishing sounds as I worked it with my finger. I loved fucking myself. I’m an animal, I thought, an animal taking care of her needs, a slut who fucks her own pussy.
In the midst of masturbating, I ran my other hand all over my boobs. Occasionally, I’d brush against my taut nipples, which intensified the feelings in my pussy as if there was a direct connection.
The sensations I got from fingering myself were different from the ones I’d get by rubbing my clit — less pointed and intense, yet beautiful in their own way, deeper somehow and all-encompassing. I could hear myself moaning, but was too far gone to quiet down.
I was going pretty fast now. My soft cries were getting louder, as if I was trying to turn myself on even more. But although it felt amazing, I realized that I couldn’t come from just fingering myself.
I stopped fondling my boobs, let my pumping hand come to a standstill. Leaving my finger nestled deep inside myself, I started rubbing my clit with the other hand after slathering it with the wetness from my pussy. This new sensation felt indescribable. My clit seemed more sensitive than normal, almost like it extended straight into my vagina.
When I came, for a crazy moment I was worried that my body would come apart at the seams. My pussy kept trying to contract, but there was not much wiggle room inside, so it just squeezed my finger erratically, which felt incredible. I felt more juices gush out through my fingers, against my palm. The plateau seemed to last forever. Overwhelmed, I jerked my hand away from my clit but just kept on coming.
When it was over, I just lay there panting, wide-eyed. My chest was heaving. Eventually, I managed to extract my finger from my pussy, sad once more at the emptiness that was left behind inside me.
I brought my hand up to my face. All of my fingers were wet, not just the one I’d fucked myself with. Even my palm was a little moist.
Dutifully, I started licking off the wetness — first from my hand, then from my outstretched fingers. If you fuck yourself like an animal, you’ve got to clean your paw like an animal, I told myself. Despite the relief of my second orgasm of the morning, the taste of my pussy started to get me turned on yet again.
After I was done scooping up the juices with my tongue, I allowed myself to put a finger in my mouth. I closed my eyes as I sucked off the residual wetness. Like a baby nursing on her thumb, I thought as my own dirty taste filled me up. One by one, I sucked all my other fingers clean too, saving the middle one for last. Such a treat.
Even after I was finished, my hand still smelled like pussy. I’m not gonna wash it, I thought. I wanna smell it later when I’m a normal human again, to remind myself that I’m an animal too, an animal with a dirty paw. My hand still a little wet from my cleaning routine, I wiped it on my cheek, thinking, Dirty, dirty, dirty girl. How had I become so wicked?
I could smell myself on my face, but I was pretty sure nobody would pick up on it unless I got too close to them. Only I knew what makeup I was wearing.
I picked up my panties again and held the crotch to my nose. One more time, I inhaled my scent, then I decided to put them back on instead of getting clean ones.
When the crotch nestled against my pussy, the dampness felt a little cold, but I thought, You have no one to blame but yourself. You’re a dirty girl who wet her panties, now you have to deal with the consequences and wear them all day.
I got out a pair of jeans next, afraid that I might soak through my pyjama bottoms if I put them on again. The jeans felt tight on me. Cupping my crotch, I whimpered a little, amazed by how wet and sensitive I was down there.
Still topless, I went over to the window and opened it, thinking that my whole room probably smelled like pussy — although I couldn’t be sure, what with the scent of my face clouding my perception.
It was a beautiful day and the birds were chirping. I skimmed the streets for potential onlookers. When I didn’t see any, I leaned out the window, closed my eyes and let the sun shine on my bare chest. It was glorious, not least because the weather was finally getting warm.
I was excited by the possibility of going to the pool on Saturday, hoping the weather wouldn’t change its mind. I was looking forward to swimming, playing volleyball, going down the water slide and eating cheap fries from the kiosk.
And seeing Bo in her bikini, I thought, suddenly overcome by my wicked side again. How am I gonna make it through the week until then?
Leaving the window open, I went back to make my bed, where I discovered a little damp spot on the sheets. Oh crap, I thought, was I that wet? I sniffed it and yep, sure enough, it had oozed from my pussy. Well, that’s how it is with naughty girls, I thought, simply covering up the spot with my blanket.
As I was fluffing up my pillow, I heard someone running up to my room. Then Bo opened the door and came bounding through, her friend Rebecca in tow. Unlike my parents, Bo never knocked on my door. I hadn’t thought that she would be back so soon.
Bo looked over to me and stopped short in her tracks. Panicked, I held onto the pillow, but didn’t think to use it to cover up my boobs. When I realized both girls were looking at them, I finally raised it up to my chest.
“Nothing to see here, folks,” I quipped, “just keep walking.”
Flustered, Bo shook her head and looked me in the eyes. “Sorry, Lisa,” she said, and continued into her own room, looking a little dazzled.
“Yeah, sorry,” Rebecca said as well and followed Bo. The door quietly closed behind them.
At least I just aired the room, I told myself, though I doubted these eleven-year-olds would have recognized the smell anyway. Besides, they’d been pretty clearly preoccupied with the visual stimulus I’d provided.
I put on a bra and a T-shirt, contemplating how Bo was the reason I got so horny in the first place, taking a bath with her and the way we kissed each other. It’s her own fault she saw me topless, I thought. And we were naked in the bath together earlier, anyway. Maybe she even liked the view.
I turned on my stereo and put on a CD — not only to distract myself, but also for my sister and her friend, who were unusually quiet right then. I figured if there was music playing, they could relax and talk normally without me hearing them through the door. I picked an album that I kept borrowing from the library because it had become one of my absolute favourites, Get Behind Me Satan by the White Stripes. When it started to play, I turned on the computer.
I’d always been too shy to post any stories on the masturbation forums, but I thought this would be a good one to share. I typed it all up and wrote a lengthy post, hoping that some of the girls reading it (and perhaps boys, too?) would be turned on, maybe even masturbate to it. Occasionally, I sniffed my hand, reminding myself of this heavenly dirty smell that my pussy produced.
By the time I hit Submit Post, “Instinct Blues” came on. I started singing along.
And everyone that’s under your shoe
and every bird and bug in the jungle too
and everything in the ocean blue,
they just happen to know exactly what to do.
I started laughing, the innuendo of the song clicking in my head for the first time. “So why don’t you?” Well, I certainly knew now. Instinct blues, all right.
I flopped down on the freshly made bed, turned up the music and relaxed to the rest of the album. At some point, the girls walked through my room again and I stopped singing, feeling a little embarrassed. Rebecca didn’t look at me, Bo just stole a quick glance. They left and closed the door behind them.
The last song on the album suddenly carried a new layer of meaning to it as well.
And I love my sister, lord knows how I’ve missed her
she loves me and she knows I won’t forget
Sometimes I get jealous of all her little pets and I get lonely
but I ain’t that lonely yet.
I couldn’t help but sigh. Maybe not you, Jack White, I thought, but I am.
*****
Bedtime was a little weird. It was a Sunday night, so Bo had to go to bed around nine. Usually I stayed up later than that, but I got ready for bed just after Bo, keeping my soiled panties tucked underneath my pillow as a lucky charm. Oh, and also so I could smell them again in the morning.
I wanted Bo to sleep over with me, feeling anxious that our cuddle time might have been ended for good when Dad told her that sisters didn’t kiss each other. Did she now think that what we’d done was wrong?
She had just gone to bed when I climbed into mine. Her door was open.
“You wanna stay over with me?” I called out to her, trying to sound casual.
It took her a while to reply. “When do you have to get up?” she asked.
“At 6:30,” I said. Another pause.
“My first class is at 8:20 tomorrow,” she said. “I don’t have to get up till eight.”
Bo’s school was just a ten-minute walk away, whereas I had to take the train in the mornings. Class started at 7:30 for me, so I caught the train at seven, and I usually took a shower before I left.
Even though getting up at 6:30 meant nine hours of sleep starting right then, I definitely sympathized with the notion of not wanting to wake up that early without a pretty good reason.
“You wanna just come over and cuddle a little before you go to sleep, then?” I tried.
“I’m tired,” Bo replied. My heart sank a little.
“Can I just come over and give you a goodnight kiss?” I asked.
“Okay,” she said.
I got out of my bed and walked over to hers. She was lying on her side, facing away from me, eyes closed. I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you too, Lees,” Bo mumbled, but she didn’t move.
I couldn’t tell if she was really that tired or feeling awkward around me now, but I could tell I wasn’t gonna get a physical reaction out of her.
We said good night and I went back to bed. I didn’t fall asleep for a long time, even though my horniness was long gone.
Continue on to Chapter 6