Chapter 1

So, anyway, this weird thing happened a few weeks ago that has been on my mind. It’s not like there was actual sex or something - I know what I said before might make you think there was. It was just ... well, it was weird, but I’m not like mad about it, either. It was even exciting, in a strange way. And it wasn’t just me.

I know, you’re going, what in the world is Elise carrying on about?

I’ll slow down, and tell it like a story.

My dad lives in a farmhouse. He’s not a farmer - he’s a writer. But he got the farm as part of a settlement of some weird legal thing some years ago. My parents are divorced, and dad actually works in computers, but he’s also a writer - he’s actually published a couple books, though as far as I can tell, they’re really boring books. Computer stuff.

The farmhouse is not really a traditional farmhouse. I guess it started out that way, but he’s changed it a lot. Now it’s kind of weird inside, but not in a bad way. Dad is kind of an amateur architect or something, too, I guess.

My sister, brother and I were out there for Easter, but, as can happen in Minnesota even in Spring, there was a blizzard. So now we were stuck there. The electricity was out. We weren’t going to die - there is a big wood fireplace that kept things warm and tons of food, and it being April, the snow wouldn’t be blocking the road for too long - maybe a day or two at the most. Maybe this sounds like the set-up to a horror movie, but it didn’t go like that.

But there was nothing to do, and we were all getting pretty stir-crazy after a fourth round of monopoly. Even dad was bored - he couldn’t do any work since the electricity was out and he needed the internet for his work. Cell reception out there is okay for emergencies but you aren’t going to hotspot the wifi or something. That’s what he normally does to pass time, as far as I can tell.

So we ate yet another lunch, and we were sitting around staring at various windows and walls - which were super interesting, as you can imagine.

“Do you remember that game we used to play when we were little? Statues?”

I probably looked annoyed about my sister Sarah saying that. It was a stupid game we used to play when we were younger. But I nodded anyway. I was that bored.

“That’s a dumb game,” my brother Mark said. It was funny either of them even remembered it - they were probably only 5 and 6 when when we used to play it.

I wondered if dad remembered the game - he was just sitting there, not even paying attention to us. He was probably annoyed with having a bunch of bored teenagers in his house and wishing they would plow the road or at least fix the downed power and phone lines. I think he was suffering from internet withdrawal even worse than us.

The Statues game that Sarah had mentioned had been based on the idea that one player in the game was “it” and could arrange the other players into some kind of “pose” or tableau that they had to hold, “frozen,” for some amount of time. The point had been to make it difficult or humorous in some way. We would take turns being “it” and posing the others, and we’d have some clock or timer to make the pose last some fixed amount of time.

Playing that “game” at ages 5, 6 and 7, we’d only ever come up with the things you would expect. Stupid poses, or difficult ones, but nothing really that strange or lewd or really even remotely sexual. The fad with us had passed after a few months, though Sarah and I had played it a few times in the later elementary years, and once quite entertainingly with some friends of hers during a sleepover.

“It’s not even really a game,” I said, dismissively.

Sarah was quiet for a while. “True. Maybe we could make it more like a game, somehow...” she mused, almost as if thinking out loud to herself.

Earlier, Mark had tried to get us started playing poker, using Monopoly money. But it had turned out that the only deck of cards in the house was missing several of the cards, and we’d decided the game was too potentially unfair with the missing cards and we’d given up on it. Anyway, Sarah had complained she didn’t really like poker. Mostly, she was bad at lying, so her poker face was lousy.

Mark had a clever idea. He said that we could somehow make the “statues” game a betting game. Like give a pose and bet if the person could do it, putting money into the pot, and if they could, then they would win the money, but if they couldn’t then the person who gave the pose would get the money.

Sarah seemed to glom onto that idea, and so we found ourselves playing a somewhat modified version of our old game of statues.

After a few disorganized turns, we settled into a game that was played as follows. We sat in a circle, and turns went around the circle. At the start of the turn, the person who’s turn it was would say who they were giving the pose to - it could be one person or two people. After that, but before describing the pose, everyone had to bet one or more Monopoly dollars - we all started with the same amount. This was basically like “ante-only poker.” Although we’d decided, initially, that the amounts could vary, in practice as we played everyone always just put in one dollar.

The “it” person would describe the pose, and the timer would be set. Poses were supposed to be 1 minute. If the person or persons could hold the pose for the whole minute, then they won the money in the “pot” - splitting it if it was two people. If they couldn’t or if they refused, the money went to the person giving the pose. The other rule we gave was that at least one person chosen for the pose should be someone who didn’t pose the previous time - with only four of us, this ensured that everyone had chances to pose.

Unlike when we played before when we were younger, we didn’t let the person giving the pose touch the people posing to “arrange” them - they could keep describing until the pose was exactly right, then after a short break the clock would start. Also, dad said near the start that he would prefer if we made a rule that poses couldn’t involve people touching. This actually made them harder, since it can be hard to hold a “frozen” pose close to someone and avoid touching them accidentally.

I know it all seems complicated. But we had played something more or less similar when we were younger - including dad a few times - and we were seriously bored, so we were happy for the challenge of coming up with a way to make it into a real game.

At first, the game mostly would have seemed like a weird cross between a yoga class and a poker game, to someone watching. The poses were hard, but completely innocent, basically. Like we would come up with these weird ballet-type poses, or yoga poses, or just bending over or backwards or to the side, or, for example, handstands, which Sarah and I could do, but dad couldn’t, and Mark was hit-or-miss with those.

I confess that I’m pretty sure I was the one who gave the first “not so innocent” pose. I can even explain why, but for that I have to explain something else about our snowed-in time.

The thing is, there isn’t a lot of privacy in Dad’s house. It isn’t really set up for a family - he’s torn out a bunch of walls and I guess he hadn’t thought of the fact that teenagers like privacy. I mean, the bathroom has a door but even that is weird because there’s like this gap area with big windows that dad made into a kind of greenhouse room. It looks really cool, but it makes you feel like someone could be watching you when you’re in the bathroom, although obviously they would have to go into the greenhouse room, and there’s a kind of unspoken rule that you just don’t do that when people might be using the bathroom. Really, dad just goes in there once a day to water the plants.

I think when I first saw it, I thought it was weird, but I got used to it, and I think Sarah and Mark did too.

But it wasn’t like at Mom’s house, where I could frig off in the shower to my heart’s content. I just didn’t feel comfortable doing it at dad’s. I would just take care of business, toilet or shower or whatever, and go back out. I didn’t resent it, normally. But I’d gotten really horny lately, and so I was masturbating a lot. Like a couple times a day. I don’t have hang ups about that. It’s natural, I know it is, and it’s definitely safer than having sex with boys or stuff. Mom even said that. She’s pretty cool too, about that kind of thing.

But at dad’s, with my bed just along a wall of the big open room, with Sarah’s and Mark’s beds nearby and even dad’s around a corner but with no walls to speak of, well ... I felt a little bit constrained. So normally at dad’s I just avoided masturbating altogether. I would “save” it till I got back to mom’s. But this little visit had stretched out longer than planned, and furthermore I was just plain really horny lately, like I said. So I’d been kind of “sneaking” when I was in bed. Like, waiting till everyone was asleep, and then messing with myself while daydreaming horny fantasies and stuff.

That worked great, except that I was afraid to take it all the way to actually cumming. I was worried about me making too much noise, or my wetness getting on the bed to the point that it showed. Rather than get upset about this, I’d decided to make it into a little game with myself. I had even learned, not that long ago, what it was called, to masturbate that way: it’s called “edging.” I was doing it a lot. And after the blizzard, with worse boredom than usual, I’d been doing it even more. Like the previous two nights, for hours.

I think you get the picture. I was kind of horny. I had sex on my brain, and I was past caring about the people around me so much. I’d taken to doing other slightly “risky” things - like not wearing my panties or bra, or teasing myself a little bit when no one could see.