Chapter 5

For a couple of years, that was every night and every morning for us. I settled into a routine of masturbating to orgasm every night in the bath or shower, so that I wouldn’t feel any untoward sexual feelings or tension when we lay down together. I was now ejaculating on a regular basis and the strength and duration of my orgasms were increasing as I learned to stimulate myself just right. Still, as good as it felt, it was nothing - nothing - compared to the sheer, transcendent joy of cuddling with Lily. I consciously, steadfastly avoided thinking of my sister when I masturbated, not wanting to despoil that joy with something as prosaic as self-stimulation. I looked upon the latter more as a task that I needed to complete to put myself in the right state to be with Lily each night. And indeed, slowly bedtime became the center of my life - the one thing that more than anything I looked forward to, relied on, knew would always be there. Whenever school was in session, I left each morning happy and ready to tackle the challenges of the day; I knew that by the evening, no matter what had happened that day to knock me off-kilter, I’d be centered again. School, in point of fact, wasn’t a huge challenge for me - I was a good student and, while I was shy and not very social, I wasn’t a bullied introvert either. Mostly, students — and teachers — had always ignored me, but as the years past me of the teachers seemed to be taking note of my performance. I hung out with fellow students and even thought of some of them as friends. Of course I never, ever revealed to anyone that I slept together with my sister; it was obvious that would have been a socially disastrous admission and, furthermore, there’s no way anyone would have understood. Instead I joked about girls with the other guys and even hung out in the coffee shop near school with a mixed group, sometimes even casually putting my arm around one girl or the other. It was fun, maybe even sexually titillating, but meant nothing; I just wasn’t that interested in sex per se. Naturally I still knew nothing about it - I’d never even seen a girl fully naked! - but it held no fear for me - I had those urges under “manual control,”every evening in the bath. All I really cared about was Lily. And, to my endless joy, she seemed to feel the same way. At home in the afternoon and on weekends, we did everything together, our homework, reading, just quietly existing together. We were almost shutting out our parents, but they didn’t seem concerned - indeed, while it was probably my imagination, I had a weird sense that they were behaving more romantically towards each other than I’d ever seen before. I’d sometimes catch them holding hands or looking into each other’s eyes. They seemed really happy, almost merry at times, and I was glad. In any case, they never once commented on how close Lily and I were, or made any suggestion that perhaps it wasn’t appropriate for us to be bedding together, and I’ll be forever grateful for that.

Our parents had gotten into the habit of going out many nights, leaving Lily and me to ourselves. Sometimes the two of us would even have to cook our own dinner and get ready for bed before they got back. It was on one such occasion that Lily, completely innocently, suggested that we take our evening bath together since - as she put it, practical as always - it would save water and be quicker. (The unspoken premise, I guess, was that, since going to bed together was the highlight of our day, the quicker we could get ready the better!) This of course posed a huge dilemma for me as I wouldn’t be able to relieve myself with Lily there. At the same time, though, I was intrigued, excited really, by the idea. I had to admit that, while I didn’t think of Lily in a sexual way at all, I was intrigued by the thought of finally seeing her completely nude. And I couldn’t argue with her logic. I agreed, and she went excitedly to run the bath. When it was ready, we both, somewhat ceremoniously, stripped out of our clothes. We stood there a bit awkwardly in our underwear - I think we both must have sensed the oddness of taking that final step - but finally Lily, without any further ado, pulled down her panties. I stood there almost in awe. It was only, after all, a couple extra square feet of skin at most that she’d revealed above and beyond every part of her that I’d seen, now, countless times. But it represented that final secret, the part she had never shown me, the part too that, I was confident, I was uniquely privileged to see. She posed there at the edge of the bathtub, slightly self-consciously and a little chubbily, her tummy protruding just a little bit over her vulva, which she made no attempt to conceal. It was lightly covered with blonde hair, just like my own privates. In fact I felt a strange connection between hers, that I was seeing for the first time, and my own, that I’d been paying so much attention to recently. Other than the obvious difference they seemed almost alike.

She looked at me as if to say, well, what are you waiting for. It’s a measure of how much my anxiety had subsided in the years since my “big discovery” that, while I had an erection, had had one in fact since Lily suggested bathing together - I did not feel any huge concern about her seeing it. First of all, as with me, it was probably the first time she’d seen anyone’s penis - what would she know about whether it was supposed to be hard or not? She’d certainly by accident felt it bump against her in that state, on more than one occasion, when we were cuddling, although I generally tried to avoid that happening. And she certainly must be able to tell it was hard now as I stood there in my underwear, anyway. But more importantly I felt so close to her, so confident in our connection, that I just knew it wouldn’t matter even if she did understand the significance. I knew her, she knew me, the hard penis was a part of me, so - what, indeed, was I waiting for? I reached down, pulled the waistband of my briefs over my penis, and stepped out of them in one motion. When I looked up, Lily was staring with unabashed interest. I almost said something, but she spoke first:

“it looks nice, Robbie.”

Lily was always like this - whatever she said, in any occasion, was always the thing that was most likely to put the other person at ease. I’d noticed it with her and my parents, and even her occasional friends, but of course I’d felt it most intensely myself: she was always filling me with joy and confidence. I stammered

“Th ... thanks. Yours does too.”

Lily smiled.

“Can I touch it?”

I didn’t want her to. It felt risky, it felt irreversible — you can’t untouch something. It felt ... it felt like changing the rules of the happiness game. But I couldn’t deny her anything. And again, had she not touched pretty much every part of me already? What difference could it make? I nodded silent assent, and, tentatively, she reached out and took it gently in her hand. Not cautiously probing it with her fingertips, no, right away almost encircling it with her warm hand. I shuddered involuntarily.

“It feels nice, too,”

Lily said. I couldn’t respond; my mind was racing, no words would come. I let her continue touching it gently for a few seconds, then made a move towards getting into the bath. She understood, let go, climbed in before me. I got in too, facing her; we sat there on opposite ends, our legs interleaved. My foot was nearly touching her vulva - I could have touched it with my toes by stretching them out a bit, but I didn’t. Lily’s leg was too short, of course, to reach my privates, a fact I was happy about. In the clear water I could see everything, but I was looking more at her upper body. Sitting there directly in front of me, her tiny breasts above the waterline, her belly button below, she presented an unforgettable sight. We sat there just looking at each other for a little while, then I said, trying to sound jocular,