I had a somewhat restless day at school. I still didn’t feel totally myself after my first experience with alcohol the night before — I realized with no small embarrassment that I must have consumed close to half of the bottle; I didn’t recall Timothy or Alice refilling their own glasses during dinner the way I had, and then the three of us had polished the bottle off afterwards. I had a residual headache and my stomach was unsettled. Furthermore, I hadn’t fully processed what had happened that morning. Hanging out in our underwear the night before had been one thing, but I couldn’t get the image of Alice standing in front of me, fully naked, out of my mind. She’d acted as if it were a totally everyday thing. And in fact Timothy seemed to think it was completely normal too — he was obviously used to sharing a bathroom with his mom, being in the shower when she was on the toilet, or using the toilet when she was in the shower, which meant they obviously didn’t think anything of seeing each other nude. Which, I figured, wasn’t *that* big a step from walking around in their underwear – I mean, once I’d accepted that — and after my initial embarrassment I’d quickly gotten used to it — why was I getting hung up on seeing Alice naked? I had to admit to myself that the problem was almost certainly that I found Alice quite attractive. I was rapidly ceasing to file her away in the “friend’s mom” category — she was just too intriguing and engaging a person for that. And, while I could tell that she was by no means conventionally beautiful in the Playboy model sense, she was *physically* intriguing as well. Her breasts were, it seemed to me, just the right size; not comically large, but adult, grown-up, totally different from the only other female breasts I’d seen close up: Lily’s bite-sized, still-developing pair. And her unapologetic mat of dark pubic hair seemed like it must hide untold delights.
Of course, I realized, Timothy wouldn’t be perturbed by seeing his mom nude. He wouldn’t see her the way I did; she was just his mom. And, growing up with such a casual attitude towards undress, it wouldn’t even occur to him that I would see it differently. Even Alice had just assumed that I’d have no objection to her sharing the bathroom with me. True, she’d had the presence of mind to come over afterwards and apologized for making me uncomfortable — but, for heaven’s sake, she’d still been completely naked when she did that! I could still see, in my mind’s eye, her crotch in front of me, pubic hair still damp from the bath. I had to chuckle: I saw her as a woman, but she probably just saw me as a half-grown kid, just like she would see Timothy. There was no way someone like that would have any interest in *my* physical attributes, so she didn’t see anything wrong with being naked in front of me, or seeing me naked. I resolved to try to be as blasé about it as possible when I was over by them in the future. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” as my mom would say — she was a veritable fount of commonplaces, although when I thought about it I couldn’t think of any particular time that *she* had done “as the Romans do.” Perhaps she used to be more urbane when she was young? I found it hard to imagine my mother being young, even as not-really-young as Alice. In point of fact I didn’t *want* to imagine her that way; my mind recoiled from thinking of her as a woman, as opposed to my mother.
That evening at home, everyone seemed to be in a bad mood. Both Lily and I had big homework assignments due and didn’t get to spend much time talking before dinner. Then Lily got into some trivial argument with our parents at dinner – I could barely follow the topic, not dress this time, but something about whether she should be using perfume or deodorant spray or whatnot. I kind of closed my ears; it made me uncomfortable to hear my parents weighing in on *anything* personal concerning Lily. I liked her the way she was, no matter what she smelled or didn’t smell like, and I didn’t think it was any business of our parents’. Worse, my dad tried to make indirect conversation about whether I was interested in anyone at school — it was painful listening to him try to get me to talk about girls without actually coming out and asking, especially in front of Lily. I suppressed a dark chuckle when he asked whether “your friend Timothy” was dating anyone; I didn’t think he’d like to know the answer to that! Then Mom, obviously following Dad’s thread, asked Lily how “Bobby” was doing and she looked momentarily confused, then mumbled something like “OK, I guess.” That sparked a pitifully obvious attempt by both parents to suss out, without actually asking, whether things had gone sour with her (imaginary) boyfriend. It all ended with Lily stomping away to her room and slamming the door. Mom said, to no one in particular, “oh, dear, girls her age are *so* sensitive” and Dad looked amused and I just suddenly felt no real kinship to them. I thought again about how different dinner at Alice’s table was; sure, she asked about how Timothy (and I) were faring at school, but there was no artifice or hidden motive in it; she was actually interested in our lives, and I got the impression that Timothy spoke honestly with her, because she was honest with him.
After I excused myself from the table, I sat around in the living room reading for a seemingly interminable period, hoping Lily would come in as she had the other night, although Mom and Dad were talking in the dining room next door and we would not have been able to cuddle as closely as before. She never came, though, and I didn’t feel comfortable going to knock on her door – not because she would have minded, but because it was too reminiscent of the circumstances of the “Canal Jeans catastrophe.” Mom and Dad would clearly know I was visiting Lily in her room and… I just didn’t want to think about what they might think of that. The thought of Mom coming in to check on us, or worse, tell us that it was inappropriate for me to be in Lily’s room, or something… I couldn’t face that. So, in the end, when they went to bed around 10, stopping by the living room to say goodnight, I just waved and pretended to be deeply absorbed in my book. About half an hour later I got up, went to the bathroom, and took a quick shower before brushing my teeth. I thought I was going to masturbate and had even contemplated thinking about Alice while doing so, to “get it out of my system,” so to speak; but once I was under the hot water I didn’t really feel like it. I was aroused, to be sure, but still in too unsettled a mood to really do anything about it. I finished, dried off (thinking about how Alice had dried me that morning), and paused for a second. I’d reverted to wearing underwear at night after Lily and I weren’t allowed to bed together anymore; there was no really good reason for this, except that getting naked with Lily every evening had been almost a ritual, a sacred thing; now that it wasn’t happening, what was the point? But I had to admit that sleeping naked was comfortable even without someone next to you, and I didn’t see any point in putting on fresh underwear until I needed to tomorrow. Finally I just shut off the light and got into bed as is, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets on my genitals. I still didn’t feel like masturbating and instead I just let myself drift off into an uneasy sleep.
In the middle of the night — I have no idea what the actual time was — I was startled awake by the sound of my door opening. It wasn’t very loud but I was instantly on alert – my first thought was that it was perhaps Mom or Dad, although they had never just barged into my room like that. But the door closed again, softly, and soft footsteps approached the bed, and — as my eyes adjusted to the darkness — I could make out Lily’s form. Without saying a word, she clambered into bed next to me. I whispered “Lily, what are you doing? We…” She said “shhhhhhh” and, almost aggressively, climbed on top of me. She was naked and my body responded instantly, my erection springing up against her crotch. I said, “No, no, Lily, don’t…” but she ignored me and held me tight, searching for my mouth with hers, muffling my protests. I opened my mouth and found myself unable to resist the kiss; I put my arms around her, my hands on her butt, and pulled her closer. I could feel her tiny breasts against my chest. I sensed the odor of her sex and the slight sourness of her sweat and thanked God that she hadn’t used deodorant; I only wanted to smell her. My penis slipped between her thighs and I could feel her wetness against the shaft. I broke the kiss and managed to mumble “Lily, this isn’t a good idea,” but she ignored me and began to move back and forth on top of me, clenching and unclenching her thighs as she did. The feeling down there was indescribable: I thought I would explode right away, but managed to hold back. I was petrified at the thought of ejaculating like this; I could tell I was not inside her, but I was close to it, and I’d learned in health class that a girl could get pregnant from semen that just found its way into the vagina from the surroundings. At the same time, of course, there was nothing I wanted more than to keep feeling this incredible sensation. It was categorically nothing like the mutual masturbation that Lily and I were used to, or the one time I had come rubbing myself up against her butt; it felt like we had been kids before and just graduated to adulthood. In spite of myself I thought of Alice briefly; I thought that it must feel like this to have her embrace me, to have my penis in that dark, mysterious area between her legs. But Alice was just an impossible vision, whereas Lily, impossibly, was here, *now*. It felt like a culmination: in years of touching each other, we had never touched each other *like this,* but, in a sense, it had all being building up to this moment. Had I *desired* her all this time? Had she *desired* me? Because this was not like before, this was not like sleeping gently in each other’s arms. This was not like feeling each other’s skin against each other; this was not like exploring each other’s bodies, tentatively touching breast and vulva and penis and buttocks; this was not cautious, this was not ritual, this was not carefully cleaving to the rules of the happiness game — though all that had been a necessary prelude. This was *need,* this was urgency, this was Lily helping herself to me, and I to her, by letting it happen, by letting my twelve-year-old sister come into my bed and climb on top of me and wrap her thighs around my penis and press her wetness against my shaft and her breasts against me and grip me and, oh, the feeling of my hardness against her need, and my need against her softness, and like someone possessed, letting her push onto me, and push, and push…
… and she was pushing her vulva against the tip of my penis, and softly moaning, and then I slid in, and she gasped and kept pushing, and the sensations, impossibly, got even harder to bear, and I said “Lily…” and she kissed me and prevented me from saying anything else, and I gave up and moved with her, and I moaned, and she moaned, and she pushed harder and took me all the way in, and it felt wonderful, and it felt right, and I groped between her cheeks at her butthole, and that’s what I was touching when she clenched her thighs hard and stiffened up and shuddered, and I couldn’t take it anymore and — without the presence of mind to pull out — I came, harder than I ever had before. I could literally feel my semen filling up her vagina, and, afterwards, as she lay there motionless, forehead against mine, breathing hard, I could feel it dripping out around my penis, combining with my sweat, dripping onto my crotch.
Hours passed, or minutes, or perhaps only a few tens of seconds; as I began to soften, she carefully pulled herself off, and rolled off next to me. We were silent for along time; my head was spinning and my heart was pounding. I felt nothing so much as *fear* — fear that our parents would find out, that they’d literally barge in at any moment; fear that I had surely gotten her pregnant; fear that she regretted what we had just done, or was even angry at me for taking advantage of her, though there was no question that she had all but forced herself onto me.
But after an interminable pause, she said, echoing innumerable occasions past: “Robbie, that was… that was… *nice*.” The way she said it this time made it clear that *nice* encompassed a universe of happiness and I felt shivers run up and down my body. I struggled for words, said finally: “Yes, Lil, it was.” I wanted to remember this moment forever. As scared as I was of the potential consequences: my little sister, whom I had loved since she was born, who had been coming into my bed since she was maybe five, sleeping skin-to-skin with me since she was eight, and sharing the secrets of her naked body and her pleasure unstintingly with me since she had first started “developing,” had just changed the rules again. We had become lovers, and it had been glorious, and while I knew in my heart that the happiness game had just gotten vastly more complicated, I didn’t want to think of anything else right now but her, here, next to me. I gently traced circles around her breasts and her belly button as her chest rose and fell, breathing in her scents mixed with mine. She didn’t seem so vulnerable, so little anymore; I almost felt like we were both all but adults now, having initiated each other into the biggest secret of being an adult. We lay there wordlessly for a while, then I said: “But Lily. what about.. I mean, what happens if…?” She caught my meaning, shrugged visibly. “It was worth it.” The answer didn’t comfort me. I wondered, practically speaking, what would happen if she *did* get pregnant. Would we be kicked out of the house? Would we have to go and live far away where no one knew us? Could I get her an abortion in secret? The alternatives all seemed horrifying. Then again, I wasn’t even 100% sure that she *could* get pregnant yet, before she had finished developing. Her breasts were still childish, her pubic hair sparse, though it was thickening. I had an uneasy feeling that I actually knew the answer to that question. She had been having periods for a quite a while now, so, whatever she looked like, she could get pregnant, I guessed. I did my best to put it out of my mind. She wasn’t pregnant *now.* Maybe we’d get lucky. A more immediate fear intruded on my mind: what if our parents came in right now? Or what if they checked Lily’s room and saw she wasn’t there? Suddenly anxious, I said, “Lily – did you close your bedroom door?” She nodded. “Still.. Mom and Dad can’t find us like this.” “I know, Robbie, but it’s so nice to lie here with you.” I tried to bargain silently with God, whom I certainly didn’t believe in: *let me lie here with Lily without being disturbed, let her not get pregnant, let everything be OK and I will do whatever You want.* I gathered Lily up my arms and we lay facing each other, just as we always had in the past. She giggled and said, “This is so nice!” I smiled at her, and, just as we always had, we rocked each other gently to sleep.
In the grey light of dawn I awoke with a sudden panic — it was morning, what if our parents were already up? I gently shook Lily awake and whispered, “Lily — you’d better go back to your room!” She frowned. “Couldn’t we just lie here for a while?” “Lil – you know, it’s just… what if they…” She sighed. “OK, Robbie. I’ll go back. But… can I come back tomorrow night?” I felt a jolt of doubt. I hadn’t even considered what we were going to do the next night, and the next, and the next. Surely we couldn’t keep rolling the dice forever and not lose? But I said, “Of course, Lil. Every night” and she smiled and made her way to the door as I admired her naked figure from behind. At the last moment, I whispered “wait!” She looked at me, surprised. I got up, went over to her, and said “Let me open the door – you know, if…” She nodded and moved out of sight. I gingerly opened it, saw that the coast was clear, and she slipped out; I stood there until she’d disappeared into her bedroom, then closed the door and went back to bed. It was only an hour or so before we had to get up anyway, and I fell into a kind of anxious half-sleep. When I got up, I missed Lily. There was no point laying about, so I forced myself to head to the bathroom and take a quick shower, then went out to get breakfast.
At lunchtime that day I eluded Timothy and the rest of the gang. I walked around looking for a pharmacy, and when I did, not too far from school, I stood there uncertainly for a while. Finally I decided that there was no reason to be embarrassed at my age, and walked in. I was all geared up to have to ask the pharmacist, as I’d seen in humorous movie scenes, but the condoms were displayed in a rack right next to the cashier’s counter. That was almost worse; there was a pretty Asian-looking woman at the checkout, and I had no idea at all how to choose condoms, but I steeled myself, looked at the rack as if I knew what I was doing, and selected a medium-sized black and gold box with a familiar brand name. It said “skins,” which sounded nice; I liked skin. At the last moment, I noticed a bigger box yellow box in the rack next to the condoms: it said “ept” on it. Early Pregnancy Test. I’d had no idea you could just buy a pregnancy test in a drugstore, but it seemed like a prudent thing to do, so I selected one as well, and handed both to the cashier. She impassively rang me up and I all but emptied my wallet — the pregnancy test kit wasn’t cheap. Oh well. The cashier handed me my purchase in a white paper bag and I stuffed it into my backpack before leaving the store. When I got back to school, I was surprised to run into Timothy; I hadn’t been gone that long and I’d imagined that he would be with the others at Ambrosia. But he had been looking for me and hadn’t eaten yet. I felt bad, and also hungry. “Hey,” I suggested, “we still have time to get pizza at Franks, if we hurry.” We ran all the way there, laughing, ordered pepperoni slices. I teased Timothy: “don’t you want eggplant and garlic?” He giggled, but pointed out, quite practically as always, that Frank’s didn’t have eggplant and garlic slices ready to go, we didn’t have time to wait, and besides — “besides,” interjected the guy behind the counter, hearing us, “we don’t have eggplant pizza. You wanna eggplant parm hero? You sit down, I make you eggplant parm hero.” “It’s OK,” I said hurriedly, “we’re in a rush. Maybe next time.” An eggplant parm hero sounded pretty good, actually, though I wasn’t completely sure what it entailed. We grabbed our slices, wolfed them down and jogged back.
At home, Lily smiled at me conspiratorially from the living room couch, sending shivers up and down my back. Dad wasn’t home yet, and Mom was in the kitchen, so I motioned for her to follow me. She came into my room, looking curious, and I half-shut the door — enough that Mom couldn’t see in if she happened to come by, but not so much that we might be accused of being up to something. I sat on the bed and took the white bag out of my backpack. “Lil, look. I got this” — I showed her the pregnancy test kit — “and these. So we don’t have to worry.” I wasn’t sure if Lily even would know what this all was but she nodded, and I remembered health class at my fairly progressive private school had covered these topics at around the same age. “So, let’s see if you’re pregnant.” Lily looked excited, but when I opened the ept box and read the instructions, I was disappointed to discover that we were supposed to wait until Lily had missed a period. I knew she had gotten hers quite early — I remembered being proud of myself for realizing — and she’d been quite regular, wearing panties to bed a few days a week each month while we were still bedding together. I had no idea when she was due, though, and she said “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you if it doesn’t come. It’s not for a couple weeks.” I was no expert but with several years of health class and avidly reading the “Changing Bodies, Changing Lives” book a few years ago, that didn’t sound too good to me. Wasn’t two weeks before her period precisely when a girl ovulated, when she was most likely to get pregnant? I wasn’t 100% sure but it seemed likely to me. I decided there was nothing to do but wait a couple of weeks and not think about it too much. “Anyway, Lil – I have these, you know, to put on if… if we, you know, do that again. Just to be safe.” She smiled and said, “Oh, Robbie, I can’t wait, it was so nice.” I felt myself getting hard. She looked so beautiful, standing there in front of me, just a little gangly — she was still in the midst of a growth spurt — with her odd, neither-this-nor-that haircut, her fingernails painted purple (it was a thing, I gathered, at her school), her little breasts unfairly restrained under her blouse, her soft eyes and the half-smiling, half-serious expression on her face. She smelled nice — I could sense her own scent, but also some unfamiliar fragrance; maybe she had capitulated on the deodorant or whatever it was. Regardless, it only added to her appeal. I stood up and pulled her into a kiss. She pressed up against me, and I knew she could feel my hardness against her jeans. I put my hands under her blouse, rubbed them up and down her bare back, and after a while pushed up her bra and moved my hands around to her hard nipples. We stood that way for while, kissing, with me playing with her breasts, until we suddenly heard the distant voice of my mom. My dad had just come home, and was talking to him the front hall; yes, there was his voice too, greeting her. Reluctantly, I took my hands away and we broke the kiss. Lily looked a little disheveled; she was pink in the face and breathing quickly. “Lil, we’d better…” She nodded and pulled her bra back over her breasts, smoothed her blouse down. After a minute to calm down, we went out to the hall to greet Dad.
That night, Lily wanted to come in as soon as she was ready for bed, but I pointed out that it would be far too risky with out parents still awake. I didn’t think they were actually checking or anything, but that seemed far too blatant. Lily said, “But I won’t be able to sleep, I can hardly wait.” I knew how she felt; I was trembling with anticipation too. But wait we must. I kissed her good night, turned out the light, and tried to fall asleep, to no avail. Around midnight, I heard the door open and close, and Lily’s naked form appeared by the bed. This time I got out of bed and stood in front of her, with my penis already rampant. Lily looked down at it in the moonlight. “It looks so nice, Robbie!” she whispered. “You look nice too, Lil,” I replied, earnestly. I put my arms around her and we reprised our earlier kiss, this time far more intimately, with my penis pressed up against her belly. I was aching to enter her as I had the night before, to feel that addictive sensation again, but I also wanted to prolong the moment as much as possible. Finally, we sat on the bed, and I reached for the box of condoms, took one out, tore open the envelope, and clumsily tried to figure out how to put it on in the darkness, getting it backwards the first time and struggling for a while before I finally realized, turned it around, and unrolled it onto my erection. Lily watched my fumbling intently. I was unsure of what the next step would be, but Lily decided the matter by lying onto her back and spreading her legs. I surveyed her for a moment; her slightly swollen labia, her blond pubic hair, her breasts small mounds on her chest, with the nipples standing out. Then, daring to do something I’d long wanted to — what point would there be in holding back now — I bent over and kissed her breasts, then her belly, then her mons pubis. The fragrance of her sex inflamed me. I looked up at her face; she had her eyes closed and didn’t look upset. I kissed her tummy again, from the side, then repositioned myself over her legs so I could kiss her vulva. She murmured “mmmmmm..” and obligingly spread her legs a bit further, so I leaned down and began to lick her, in long strokes between her labia and up to her clitoris, which I could feel hard under the tip of my tongue. The taste was exquisite: salty, a little sour, her characteristic odor squared and cubed. I couldn’t get enough of it; I lapped wildly at her, unbothered by the relatively light hair, and she squirmed under my ministrations, alternately pressing her thighs against my cheeks and relaxing them. Finally, and quite suddenly, she came, jerking and shaking hard, so that the bed squeaked in protest and I momentarily worried it might wake our parents. She lay there, panting, and I immediately moved up so that I was face to face with her, supporting myself with my arms over her body. I kissed her and she returned it gently with open mouth, licking her own taste out of my mouth.
I had been concentrating so hard on the oral sensations that, as arousing as they had been, I had partly softened, but now, with my beautiful little sister spread out directly under me, her breasts rising and falling with her breath, my hardness came rushing back. Fortunately the condom had not slipped off. I desperately wanted to be inside Lily now, but wasn’t sure if she would want me to enter her after her orgasm. I hovered over her uncertainly for a few seconds, but then she reached down and grabbed my erection. “Put in in,” she whispered, and I did; she was still incredibly wet, and despite her tightness and the unfamiliar condom, I slid in quite smoothly. She smiled straight up at me. “That feels so nice, Robbie.” Slowly, I began to move back and forth, and Lily closed her eyes. I couldn’t hold myself very long; and I was unsure if Lily would be able to come again — I had no idea how it was for girls, but I knew that after I had an orgasm I wasn’t ready to again for a long time. I felt the pressure begin to build and groaned, “Lil, I’m going to…” and she whispered, as if it were an incantation, “come, come, come Robbie, come” and I did, pumping spurt after hot spurt into the condom.
We pulled apart, exhausted. I felt a little uncertain: maybe I should have been able to hold back until Lily had another orgasm? But she looked perfectly happy. We rolled towards each other and held each other in the usual embrace for a while. I had neglected to take off the condom, but I could feel it slipping off my now soft penis; I was worried about the contents somehow making their way into Lily and eventually I broke the embrace to take care of the condom. A sudden panic: what do I do with this? I didn’t want to flush it down the toilet this late at night. I couldn’t throw it in the trash bin; my mom emptied those. Finally I stuffed it back into the torn envelope and put it, together with the open pregnancy test and condom boxes into the white bag. I’d deal with it in the morning. Lily was falling asleep; I held her for as long as I dared, but, as desperately as I wanted just to sleep in her arms, I didn’t want to repeat the intrigue of the previous morning. “Lily,” I shook her gently awake, “let’s not fall asleep like this, we might wake up too late tomorrow.” Lily groaned quietly, said, “Robbie, so what? I don’t care, even they did find us, so what?” I had a sudden idea: “Let’s sleep in your bed.” I figured I could wait until she fell asleep, then creep back into my room. Lily agreed, and we moved quietly into her room; I let her get into the bed first, then clambered in after her. The bed felt unfamiliar, wrong somehow; I had never slept in it. But i held her in my arms, listening to her breaths get slower and deeper, until she fell asleep. I felt warm with happiness and contentment, and told myself, “just a few more minutes like this…” but I fell asleep in spite of myself, and woke once again to the light of dawn, and had to sneak guiltily back to my room.