Chapter 3

Now remember that what I just described in the last chapter took place over the space of two hours on a day after there had been years of discord between us. Thinking back on it now, it reminds me of one of those movies where the guy and girl hate each other for most of the movie, except the audience knows they’re really drawn to each other and don’t want to admit it. Then there is the scene where there’s a breaking point and they suddenly can’t keep their hands off each other. And they live happily ever after and all that crap.

In many ways, I think those pictures I took, which led to the conversation we had, was that breaking point in the ‘movie’ that was our life. Except that we didn’t fall all over each other and declare our undying love and have sex etcetera and so forth.

But we also didn’t feel all weird about what had just happened. There was no tension. Hannah didn’t jump up and run out of the room, or cover her body up. I just sat in the chair, still feeling weak, but I didn’t feel like I needed to move. Hannah did move, but only to get on her side again and face me. She looked ... sexy.

“That’s a good pose for you,” I said. “That would make a mondo sexy picture.”

“You want to take one?” she asked. “Just for you?”

“I think we’ve already had this conversation,” I said.

“I know, but there are ways to hide things on a computer. Or you could just put them on a thumb drive and hide that.”

“That’s tempting,” I admitted.

“The thought of you looking at a picture of me like this and doing what you just did makes me feel all hot inside,” she said.

“I’d rather see you like this ... in person,” I said.

“That won’t be any problem,” she said, softly.

“You mean we’re going to do this again?” I asked.

“Lots of times,” she said.

I felt my dick twitch or, more nearly correctly I felt my dick try to twitch. It was still exhausted from its previous cum.

“Things have happened kind of fast,” I thought out loud.

“Not really,” she said.

“How can you say that? Up until two hours ago I’d never seen you naked at all.”

“Remember what I told you about Janet and Todd?”

“How could I forget?”

“That was last summer. I couldn’t stop thinking about them ... imagining what they might be doing. And then I thought about you. I watched you talking to girls and they always smile or laugh. I can see it in their eyes that they like you but you’re too chicken to ask them out.”

“Every time I do ask a girl out you do something to screw it up,” I accused.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “Did. I’m sorry for that and I promise I’ll never do it again. I just got upset because it’s so easy for you and so hard for me.”

“You’ve got that backwards,” I said. “You’re the one with guys panting after you all over the place. Girls don’t rush up to me and beg me to ask them out on a date.”

“All those guys want to do is see me like this,” she said. “And all those girls are worried that if they do go out with you they’ll want to do naughty things.”

“Yeah, right,” I said.

“You said guys talk to you about me,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Well girls talk to me about you, too.”

“Really?”

“You’re the kind of guy who is dangerous, Bobby, because you’re fun to be with and smart and you don’t think the world wants to worship you. You’re tall and kind of hunky. That all adds up to being the kind of guy a girl wants to get naked with, and since that’s way too dangerous, they think it’s safer to just keep their distance.”

“But some girls do go out with me and none of them are dying to get naked with me,” I argued.

“That’s just for status,” she said.

“Status.”

“Yes. It’s like you’re the lion, and after they go out with you they can say they went out with the lion and didn’t get eaten. They brag about it, except not in actual words.”

“That’s crazy,” I said.

She shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s the way things are.”

I felt rested. Suddenly sitting in a room naked with my equally naked sister felt strange again.

“You hungry?” I asked.

“Starving.”

Ten minutes later we were dressed again and standing side by side in the kitchen, making sandwiches.

She leaned against me at one point, and it felt nice.

And that’s how my sister and I became best friends after years of contention.

It’s important to say, here, that Hannah and I didn’t seek each other out for daily masturbation orgies. It wasn’t like that at all. There was a new closeness between us, but that didn’t mean our libidos went crazy.

Sure I still jerked off every day, and I usually thought about her when I did it, lying there on her bed with my spunk still staining her hip. I assume she still masturbated, too, though she didn’t say anything about that.

She went out with Steve three days later. It was a Friday night and our parents were in Hennesey, fifty miles away for a Bridge tournament and had decided to make a romantic weekend getaway of it. I was supposed to go out with Jennifer Tunway that night but she’d called and said some family obligation had popped up and she couldn’t go.

I had watched three episodes of a show called The Sniffer on Netflix. It was good, interesting because it’s all filmed in Russia and it shows things about Russian life that I’d never seen before. The problem was that the sound was all Russian with English subtitles and I got tired of trying to read those and watch the action at the same time, so I went to my room to just read. I was doing that when Hannah came in from her date.

“Bobby?” she called out.

“In my room,” I yelled back.

She appeared in my doorway. She’d dressed “sexy” for Steve in tight shorts and a shirt that showed that bellybutton ring. Her hair was down. She looked good. There was an instant during which I hated Steve for getting to spend time with her looking like that, but it passed. I knew she wasn’t fooling around with him.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“Not so great,” she said.

“Why?”

“Steve wanted me to jerk him off.”

“Please tell me you didn’t,” I said.

“I didn’t.”

She just stood there and I had sudden doubts.

“Are you saying that because I told you to, or because it’s the truth?” I asked.

She came in and sat on the edge of my bed.

“There was a point where I sort of wanted to,” she said.

“But you didn’t.”

“If I did that it would only encourage him,” she said. “He’s bad enough as it is.”

“But you wanted to.” I know my voice sounded angry. I was a little angry.

“I didn’t want to touch his, exactly,” she said. “I just wanted to know what it would feel like to touch one.”

“Oh.”

She looked at me.

“I thought about touching yours, actually.”

What she had thought about touching reacted in my shorts. I was lying on my back and the front of my shorts was right there next to her. I saw her look at the bulge as it moved.

“I don’t understand this,” she said.

“What?”

“You’re getting hard for me again. I like that. Why do I like that?”

“I have no clue,” I said.

“Show it to me,” she ordered.

I put my book aside, arched on my heels and head and shoved my shorts down to my thighs.

“It’s not actually hard,” she said.

She was right. It was ‘in the act’ of getting there, but wasn’t fully erect yet.

“Be patient,” I said. “It will get there.”

“So I like it when you get hard for me, and you do get hard for me, so that means you like doing that.”

“I guess so.”

“It sure is a good thing Janet told me about her and Todd,” she said. “If it weren’t for that I’d think I was insane right now.”

“I don’t think you’re insane,” I said.

“I want to jerk off my brother,” she groaned. “That has to be insane.”

Her admission was like a shot of adrenaline to my cock and, almost instantly, it matured to full bonerhood.

“And you want your sister to jerk you off,” she whispered.

What do you say in a situation like that?

“I guess I do,” was what came out.

I make it sound like all this was seamless and easy, but it wasn’t. There was a lot going on in both our heads. Masturbating in front of each other had been a huge leap. The thought of touching each other was like stepping off a cliff. Granted, she hadn’t said anything about me touching her, but I think that concept was somehow intermixed with arriving at a place where she could touch me.

“Let’s go to my room,” she said, standing up.

I didn’t ask why she wanted to change rooms. I didn’t even think about why she might want to do that. Looking back on it I think she felt safer in her own space. I found out later it was because her bed was a queen and mine was only a full.

I had kicked off my shorts before I followed her and she abandoned me, standing naked, to go to the bathroom. That bathroom opens up into both her room and mine. It has locks on both doors. I assume she used the facilities because she was still dressed when she came out.

She stood, just looking at me for a minute.

“You make me feel so hot,” she said.

“You are hot,” I said.

“No, I mean inside. I don’t feel anything like this when I’m with Steve. I get excited. I get horny. But I don’t feel like this.”

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“I feel like I want to be naked for you.”

“I like that idea,” I said.

“In bed with you,” she added, softly.

I’ll be honest. My mind kind of exploded at that point. In the first place, no girl had ever said anything like that to me before. In the second place the first girl to say it was my sister. In the third place it was entirely possible for me to look at her as someone other than my sister. It was crazy.

“That would be a bad idea, though,” she said.

I think I said something along the lines of, “Urrgh.”

Then she laughed! Her face lit up and she laughed! But it wasn’t a laugh of derision. She looked honestly joyful.

“I love it when you do that. We’ll be fine.”

And then she took her clothes off. It wasn’t exactly a striptease, not in the sense that her movements were practiced, or planned to take a while. She just looked at me as she took things off. I think she was watching to see if removing this or that piece of clothing got a reaction from me.

She was wearing both a bra and panties, something I later found out was an ironclad rule when she went out with Steve. She put up barriers to his wishes, covering areas of her body with extra protection from his wandering hands. When she reached behind her and undid her bra it actually leapt up off her chest, as if it was trying to get away from her breasts. She tossed it on the floor and rubbed her breasts with both hands.

“I hate bras,” she said, casually.

“Me, too,” I sighed.

She laughed again and bent over to remove her panties.