Lori lay in bed thinking about her brother. How as teenagers they had been unusually close and had always gotten along, so unlike most siblings. Of course, any thoughts of her brother always led to their sexual relationship, as they did now. Not for the first time, she wondered if incest ran in the family.
Thinking back, she laughed at the absurdity of it all: a back-rub. It had started with a back-rub. She had come home from softball practice that afternoon with a strained back after yanking a line drive out of the air. She'd felt a twinge coming down, and throughout the rest of the game that twinge had continued to grow worse, until finally she'd asked to sit out the final inning. No problem, the coach had said: Easy, when they were ten runs ahead. The strange part was, the catch hadn't been anything spectacular.
Tom had picked her up and they'd made small talk on the way home. Mom was working late that night, which meant she'd be home sometime after 10. Lori brooded over this, as she needed to talk to her mom about what to wear for the Senior Prom. Kenny Moore had asked her, of course, and she'd said yes. Who wouldn't say yes: Kenny Moore was scorching hot. All she needed now was to convince her mom to let her buy the dress she wanted. The problem kept her occupied all the way home.
While Lori headed for the kitchen for a sandwich and a glass of milk, Tom answered the phone, then shot upstairs to his bedroom to talk in private. The good little sister, Lori hung up the downstairs extension without listening in. She wondered if the girl was Laurie Jamieson, or Tyler whatever her name was. She hoped it was Laurie. She liked Laurie and shared both her first and middle names--at least in pronunciation.
Upstairs, she nearly collided with Tommy coming out of the bathroom. He was down to his normal boxer shorts and T-shirt; Lori shook her head in mock disgust.
"You just got home a minute ago!"
"So what," he said, disappearing into his bedroom. A moment later, before Lori could enter her own room, he reopened the door and stuck out his head.
"You were limping. You OK?"
"I wouldn't be limping if I was OK," she muttered. In a few words she explained what had happened.
"Bummer," Tommy said. "Need a massage?"
Blinking, Lori looked at him. "What?"
"A massage. Rub your back. Make it feel all better?" He mimed a savage attack on her muscles.
"I don't know," she said doubtfully. Kind of inappropriate, her brother massaging her back, she thought. On the other hand, his expression looked innocent enough. Probably she was guiltier of ascribing an ulterior motive than he was of having one. "Sure," she said finally. "A back rub would be great."
"Take your bath first," he said. "Loosen up." The telephone rang and he looked back over his shoulder. "Let me know when you're ready." Without awaiting a reply, he closed the door and a moment later the phone died in mid-ring.
Shrugging, Lori opened her bedroom door and dropped her backpack just inside; it puffed up red dust. Kicking the door closed with her right foot, she pried off her cleats and stripped her red and white jersey off over her head. It also landed with a puff of dust. Reaching behind her, she popped the clasp on her bra and let it fall off. With both hands, she scratched all along the reddened indents in her skin, sighing contentedly. Even sexy bras, which this one certainly was not, were a pain.
Looking to make sure the blinds were closed, and discovering they weren't, Lori covered up and walked hunched over to the window and twisted the blinds closed. She had to be more careful, damn it. Only last week she'd realized after five full minutes that she'd been wandering around topless with the blinds open and her lights advertising what she had on, which was nothing. Bad practice, when someone with the hots for you lived just next door. Peeking out the blinds, she looked at his window now, but could see no one lurking there.
Slipping out of her shorts, and then her panties, Lori picked clean underwear from her top drawer and wrapped herself tightly in her terry cloth robe. On her way to the bathroom, she snatched two towels from the linen closet and draped them over her shoulder. Banging on Tommy's door, she shouted: "I'm showering now! Ten minutes, OK?"
"OK!" he shouted back, sounding distracted. Laurie, for sure, she thought, smiling.
After going pee, Lori twisted open the spigot and held her hand under the spray until it was scalding hot. Turning the knob back a millimeter, she unbelted the robe and let it fall off her shoulders. She caught it one-handed and hung it on the back of the door. She was ovulating, and ovulating meant that anything-- even a robe falling off her shoulders--made her horny. Horny enough to shiver thinking about an open window, she realized.
She stood for a long time with her back to the spray, letting it beat down on her. The wrench had been more in the muscles of her right side, so she concentrated the water there, rubbing up and down gently with her palms. How could a simple snatch be that painful, she wondered? She'd snatched a dozen line drives out of the air exactly the same way and had never felt a twinge. It didn't make sense.
No, a voice whispered at her. Saying yes to the Prom doesn't make any sense. Mom isn't gonna let you go. You're grounded, remember?
"She'll let me go," she protested. "I just gotta handle it right."
Right, the voice jibed. And your ass doesn't look like a buffalo's butt in those new jeans.
"Oh, shut up," she said sourly. Her wide ass was a sore subject, even with herself.
Eventually, she shampooed and rinsed her hair, then lathered in conditioner while she soaped herself. Being horny, she lingered on the tips of her breasts and on that special place between her legs which made her sex the quarry of half the human race; or of half the population of her high school, anyway. She wondered if anyone would ever show enough interest in her to slide in a finger ... or more importantly, an erect penis. She wasn't bad looking, even her brother told her so. So what was the problem?
Shaving her underarms first, and then her legs, Lori sat down on the tub-side and carefully maneuvered the razor over the delicate terrain of her labia.
There used to be a time when you did this only during the summer, she thought wryly. Now, showing even a trace of hair got you giggled at in gym or in the girl's bathroom. Her dark color didn't help; even closely shaved, sometimes there was a shadow.
She rinsed herself, stood up and turned off the spigot. She wrung out her hair and ran her hands down her body to expel the excess water. Why she did this was a mystery to her; probably because it had been so beaten into her by her mother. Get the water off you before you get out of the tub, her mother used to say. I hate coming into a flooded bathroom.
OK, Mom, she thought. Sure.
Flipping back the curtain, Lori grabbed the topmost of the two towels and wound it around her head. She dried herself with the other, and then grabbed her robe, sliding her left arm in the sleeve, and then the right, and then applied deodorant to her underarms. It was then she decided it was too much trouble to take the robe back off to put on her brassiere. Instead, she stuffed the bra into her pocket and stepped into her panties, snuggling them into place.
For years afterward, Lori wondered if the simple act of not donning her bra had triggered events. She also wondered if not putting it on had been a conscious decision, made in order to force the play. Probably, she'd never know the answer. Probably, she didn't want to.
What happened next happened without her awareness. Removing the robe from the back of the door, Lori had inadvertently caused it to swing open an inch. Occupied with her thoughts, she hadn't notice. Someone else had noticed, however.
As with any girl her age, Lori was anything but satisfied with her body. Though filling the cups of her size 34B bra quite nicely, Lori thought her breasts pitifully small and weirdly shaped. Her waist was too thick and her hips and thighs absolutely gargantuan. In reality, her waist was a perfect 24" and her hips a slightly wide 37", certainly nothing to be embarrassed over. And the thighs she found so disgusting had, only moments before, enthralled her older brother with their shapeliness.
Turning, Lori examined her derriere closely in the mirror. She estimated it had grown another inch wider just in the past week. It would have shocked her to know how many of her classmates looked at that shapely behind, and had fantasies of fucking it. Only in her own eyes did Lori find herself unattractive.
"OK," she said, wearily. "Let's get this over with."
Ten minutes later, she lay face down on her bed, waiting expectantly. Tommy had finally hung up the phone, only to have it ring again immediately. "Just a second," he'd said, holding up a finger. That second had extended now to ten minutes.
"Tommy!" she hollered, only to be startled when he answered from three feet away. She raised her head and looked back. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," he said, though his tone said otherwise. "You ready for your back-rub?"
"Finally," Lori said, returning her head to her crossed forearms. She had the inescapable feeling that Tommy had been standing behind her quietly, staring at her rump. It creeped her out a little.
"The shower help?" he asked.
"Immensely," she said. "I could have stayed in it an hour."
"Well, the massage will get rid of the rest of your tightness," he said." On her bedside table he sat a bottle of Johnson's Baby Oil.
"What's that for?" she asked.
.... There is more of this story ...