Chapter 4

After that, we kind of fell into a routine, just as we had earlier with the games and then the wrestling. Naturally I really would have liked to “sleep with” Chrissy - both literally as well as in the conventional sense. But I knew that neither was really a good idea. I sensed that it would be problematic to have actual, conventional sex, not just because you could get pregnant that way and that was obviously a Bad Thing, but also because, somehow, I knew it would have fundamentally changed the way we related to each other, and not necessarily for the better. And, while I would have been happy just to sleep next to my sister every night, our parents did eventually come home, even if it was sometimes long after midnight.

Our parents were loving, never abusive, and gave us every advantage they could, but, to be honest, they were somewhat - let’s say, inattentive, although I might have mocked them back then as “clueless.” They weren’t really clueless, but they were the sort of parents who, when you brought home a report card with all A’s (as I regularly did), would absently mumble “that’s nice, dear.” “Inattentive” is the right word - they literally just didn’t pay that much attention to us. They were caught up doing their own thing, going out and playing music with friends, and doing God-knows-what until late at night.

It would have been impossible to explain to them why we were lying in the same bed - unthinkable, really. Instead, we developed a low-risk way to explore each other’s bodies as much as we wanted: whenever our parents went out (which, as I’ve indicated, was often), we would take an evening shower together. (While Chrissy had always showered before going to bed, I’d long ago started getting up early and doing it when I got up in the morning, but of course I was happy to hop in with her now.) Rather than use our shared bathroom, with its relatively tight bathtub/shower combination, we quickly started using our parents’ bathroom, which was off of the master bedroom – the shower stall there was huge, had a double showerhead with enough water for two as well as a fun handheld shower thingie, and most importantly, contained a sort of stone bench you could sit on. That was huge: after some initial experimentation, we figured out that, after a long, leisurely shower with endless mutual teasing, once we were both excited almost beyond our ability to control ourselves, I could just sit on the bench, and she would sit in my lap, with my penis pressed between her butt cheeks. With the warm water still pummeling us, we’d lean back and I would masturbate her to orgasm with my right hand while I fondled her lovely little breasts and her round belly with my left hand. With a little practice, we got so that I could hold myself off until she started to come. As her orgasm approached, she would push back hard against me in a rhythmic motion, letting out those little squeaks and moans that would push me over the edge. I’d ejaculate all over her butt and back as she squeezed my hand between her thighs. Then, the paroxysms passed, we would both sigh, relax, enjoy the warm rain, and eventually get up, clean ourselves off, then get partially dressed (I took to wearing a bathrobe and she’d typically put on just a T-shirt or a nightgown) and go watch a movie on TV or something. It was heaven.

Usually we’d be in bed by the time our parents got back, but even when they found us somewhat scantily clad in front of the TV, they didn’t seem to find it strange (or comment on the fact that I had evidently started taking evening showers again). Indeed, in retrospect it seems a little weird that they never noticed we were using their bathroom. Perhaps that’s because they themselves would always shower before going out for the evening, so it wasn’t implausible that the stall would still be wet when they got back, but honestly, I think it’s more likely that they just never noticed. As I said, they were fairly inattentive. Or, who knows - maybe they did notice, and didn’t care, or just didn’t know what to think?

Anyway, it wasn’t leaving the shower wet that ended up being our downfall. Sorry to say, Chrissy and I got careless. One night, long after we’d had our shower, we were watching a somewhat naughty “after dark” movie on cable, and we started to get, well, horny again. We would typically watch TV cuddling together on the couch, and often we’d end up holding each other’s naked bodies under her nightgown and my bathrobe, sometimes with a blanket over us. Obviously, we could spring apart at a moment’s notice if we heard the key in the door, but honestly, our parents might not have found anything unusual even if they had seen us smushed up together. Chrissy and I had always been close and fairly cuddly with each other even when we were young, and they were probably happy to see us have such a good sibling relationship. (I know that Mom, at least, came from a rather abusive or at least uncaring family. I didn’t know any of the details then, and I still don’t understand everything, but we literally never saw our grandparents, aunt, or uncle on her side - she had an older brother and sister she apparently didn’t talk to. Dad was an only child, and his parents were lovely people, but they lived in another country, so we rarely saw them.)