Chapter 9

Saturday morning, I was happy to find both girls gone from the room by the time I woke up. Of course, it was ten in the morning. I stumbled down to the shower, shucked my clothes and waited for the water to get warm.

I was suddenly awake, however, when Whitney came into the bathroom. She was wearing her short-shorts and a cut-off t-shirt. She looked downright sexy. That of course was my now rigid little head talking.

"Mmm, you look good enough to eat," said Whitney as she started undressing.

"Whitney, this isn't a good idea," was the last thing my big head was able to say.

"Mom and Lindsey are at the DMV getting her temps."

I had forgotten that Lindsey had been studying her traffic rules book all week.

"So, seeing she's gone, I thought I'd bring this," said Whitney, holding up a foil packet. I knew it contained a condom.

"You mean you wanna..."

"Fuck. I want to fuck you, Scott."

"Wow," I squeaked. My little head was completely in control.

Whitney opened the packet and pulled out the condom. She then carefully unrolled the condom over my cock. When Whitney pressed her naked body against mine and kissed me, any reservations I had were gone.

"Rub my pussy, Scott," huffed Whitney. "Make sure I'm wet."

My hand dropped between her legs and I rubbed the outside of her pussy to find it soaking wet. For good measure, I slipped a finger inside her, causing her to sigh.

"Definitely wet," I whispered into her ear.

"Lie down," panted Whitney.

If I had to pick a first place to have sex, it wouldn't be on the floor of the bathroom. Then again, my little head was in control, and it wasn't arguing.

Whitney straddled me and then lined up her pussy with my cock. She then slowly sunk down on my cock, wincing as she went. She was so tight, that it was a bit painful for me, too.

"That feels really good," said Whitney through gritted teeth.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Just hurt a little bit, but now I'm fine."

I ran my hands down Whitney's sides and over her hips as she slowly bounced on top of me. Whitney was whimpering every time she bottomed out; not in pain now, but in pleasure.

I had thought I would never feel anything as incredible as Whitney's blowjob, but the feel of Whitney's cunt surrounding my cock was unbelievable. Of course, that incredible feeling quickly had me overly excited. The next thing I knew I was stiff as a board and then shooting cum into the condom inside Whitney. A few strokes after that and I had to push her off of me to stop.

"God, I came," I gasped.

"You did?" said Whitney, disappointment evident in her voice.

"Yeah, sorry. I just couldn't last."

"It's okay," said Whitney, now smiling. "We'll do this a lot more and you'll get better at it."

She gave me a peck on the lips, grabbed her clothes and practically bounced back out of the bathroom, leaving me wondering if it was a dream.

That wonder didn't last long as my big head started to do the thinking again. Guilt crashed down on my like an anvil. Not only had I had sex with my sister, but I betrayed my other sister in the process. To top it off, my first time was... horrible. It felt good and I came, but it lacked everything I thought it would be. It was just the two of us, on the bathroom floor, fucking. It didn't last long and Whitney was gone as soon as it was over.

I did something then that I hadn't done since my Dad's funeral. I cried.

I guess I would be remiss if I didn't explain one thing. Most guys my age would not give a flying fuck how good or bad their first time was. It came down to getting laid was the holy grail and whatever you did or however you did it, didn't matter.

I guess I wasn't your typical guy. Then again, I lived with two sisters. My two sisters read romance novels all the time. Even in her Goth phase, Whitney was reading Sweet Valley High books. Lindsey had managed to find more adult romances. Anyways, curiosity took over one day when I was bored and I started reading one of Lindsey's novels. I hate to say it, but I was hooked.

For a while, I actually worried that I was gay because I liked them, but then I realized that I was often beating off to the sex scenes in the more erotic books.

So, after time, I started getting this perfect image of what I thought sex should be like. What happened with Whitney was the exact opposite of that image. Instead of being euphoric over the experience, I was cast into a deep depression.

Of course, it didn't take my Mom long to figure out I was depressed. In fact, she was up in my room talking to me within an hour of getting home with Lindsey, who passed her test for her temps by the way.

"Scott, you didn't seem to excited for Lindsey," said Mom.

"It's just her temps," I said, casually.

"I know, but you usually are excited when your sisters accomplish something big," said Mom.

She had me. I had fulfilled my big brother role to the utmost as we grew up and was always filled with pride when my sisters won awards or sporting competitions.