It wasn’t the usual Thanksgiving holiday for the Draper sisters. Typically, they would be celebrating at the family home with the parents. This year the parents had decided that a warm cruise would be better. They had first floated the idea that sixteen year old Paula go to her nineteen year old sister Angie’s university and stay with her there in the dorm. Since Angie’s roommate was going to her own family home for the weekend the plans were finalized and Paula was shipped off to her sister.

The large plastic cup clattered onto the dorm room desk, its handle cracked from too many microwaves. Angie sighed, pushing a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear. “Mom insisted I take this stupid thing.”

Paula flopped onto the Angie’s bed, sinking into the thin mattress and leaning against the wall. “She packed me three sweaters. Like I’d freeze to death walking from the parking lot.” She kicked off her sneakers, letting them thump onto the floorboards. The room felt cramped, textbooks stacked haphazardly beside Angie’s laptop.

Silence stretched, thick with unspoken things. Angie traced the rim of her chipped mug. “So ... Dad still working late every night?” Her voice sounded too loud in the small space.

Paula picked at a loose thread on the quilt. “Yeah. Mom pretends not to notice.” She glanced up, meeting her sister’s eyes. “It’s quieter without you there. Weirdly quiet.”

Angie moved from the desk to sit beside her on the bed, the springs groaning softly. “College isn’t at all quiet,” she offered, a hesitant smile touching her lips. “It’s ... loud. Parties every weekend. Guys trying way too hard.” She nudged Paula’s shoulder. “Hey, remember Ben Carter? Turns out he’s a total boozehound now. Fell into a bush at Sigma Chi last month.”

Paula snorted, relaxing slightly. “Seriously? What about Sarah Miller? Is she still flouncy?” The shared hometown gossip felt safe, familiar ground.

From beneath her pillow, Angie pulled out a small, crumpled baggie containing dried green flakes. “Okay, truth time,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “College isn’t just loud parties and dumb boys.” She pinched a small amount of the fragrant herb into a thin rolling paper. “It’s ... figuring stuff out. About yourself.” Her fingers worked deftly, twisting the ends into a tight cylinder. “Stuff Mom and Dad wouldn’t get.”

“Like what?” Paula asked, watching the joint take shape with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The sharp, earthy scent filled the small space.

Angie lit the end, the tip glowing orange as she inhaled deeply. She held it for a beat, then passed it to Paula. “Like ... realizing attraction isn’t always simple,” she exhaled slowly, smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling. “Sometimes it’s messy. Unexpected.” She watched Paula take a tentative puff, coughing slightly. “Like ... how I ended up kissing Chloe from my Bio seminar after a study session.” Her gaze was steady, searching Paula’s face. “And how it didn’t feel weird at all. It was just ... nice.”

Paula froze, the joint halfway to her lips. Chloe? Kissing Chloe? Her sister kissing a girl? The smoke suddenly felt thick, choking, so that’s just what she did, coughing from the powerful smoke in her lungs. Her mind scrambled—images of Angie laughing with friends, Angie studying, Angie ... kissing another girl? A jolt, sharp and electric, shot through her stomach, followed by a confusing warmth spreading low. ‘Kissing a girl?’ The thought echoed, loud and forbidden in her own head. She stared at Angie, eyes wide, forgetting to breathe. Shock locked her joints; the dorm room walls seemed to press in, the familiar posters suddenly alien. This wasn’t just gossip about Ben Carter falling into bushes. This was Angie, her big sister, talking about kissing girls. It felt like the ground tilted slightly beneath her.

“Shocked?” Angie asked softly, a knowing, almost apologetic smile touching her lips. She took the joint back from Paula’s numb fingers. “Yeah, I get it. Took me by surprise too.” She leaned back against the wall, pulling her knees up. “It started ... slow. We were cramming for that midterm, stressed out of our minds. Just talking, complaining about professors, laughing.” Her voice grew quieter, more intimate. “She leaned over to grab my highlighter, her hair brushed my cheek ... and something just ... clicked.” Angie’s gaze drifted past Paula, lost in the memory. “The way she looked at me then ... it wasn’t like how guys look. It was ... deeper. Like she saw ‘me’. She saw Angie, not just...” she gestured vaguely at her own body, “ ... this. We just did it. It was soft, hesitant at first. Then ... God, Paula, it was incredible.” A flush crept up Angie’s neck. “Gentle, but intense. Like discovering a whole new language.”

Paula listened, rapt. The initial shock was fading, replaced by a burning curiosity that prickled her skin. Angie’s description—the softness, the intensity, the feeling of being truly ‘seen’—sent unfamiliar shivers down her spine. She found herself leaning closer, drawn into Angie’s quiet confession. The pot haze mingled with the intimacy of the shared secret, making the air feel thick and charged. “Incredible?” Paula whispered, her voice barely audible. She swallowed, her throat dry. “More incredible ... than with guys?” The question hung in the smoky air, heavy with implication.

Angie took another slow drag, exhaling thoughtfully. “Guys?” she said, a hint of dismissiveness in her tone. “With guys, it’s ... predictable. You know the moves, the script. They grab, they push, they rush. It’s like watching reruns of a show you’ve seen a dozen times.” She flicked ash into the chipped mug on the desk. “But Chloe?” A genuine smile lit her face. “Zero script. Zero expectations. I had ‘no’ clue what she was going to do next, or how she’d react. Or, what I was doing. That not knowing ... it wasn’t scary. It was thrilling. Every touch was a surprise, every little gasp felt like discovering something completely new.” She turned her head, meeting Paula’s wide blue eyes squarely. “That’s what made it incredible. Not knowing. Just ... feeling.”

The raw honesty in Angie’s voice resonated deep within Paula. She pictured it: Angie, lost in the unexpected intimacy with another girl, every sensation amplified by the sheer novelty. Her own heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm echoing the forbidden thoughts flickering through her mind. ‘Angie kissed a girl. It felt incredible.’ The warmth low in her belly intensified, spreading, becoming a distinct, undeniable ache.

“So,” Angie murmured, her voice husky, breaking the heavy silence. “Have you ... ever thought about it? About being with a girl?” She studied Paula intently, her gaze searching. “Ever looked at someone and felt ... intrigued? Or confused?”

Paula’s breath escaped in a shaky puff. The question landed like a physical touch. Images flooded her mind unbidden: Lila from her own biology class, sitting diagonally across the lab. The way Lila’s dark hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned over a microscope, the intense concentration on her face, the unexpected softness of her hands when they’d briefly touched passing a slide tray. Heat flooded Paula’s cheeks. “I ... yeah,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Lila. In Bio. She ... intrigues me a little I guess.” The confession felt terrifying and exhilarating, hanging nakedly in the smoky air between them.

Angie’s eyes widened slightly, then softened with understanding. She shifted closer on the bed, the mattress springs groaning softly under their combined weight. The space between them vanished. Paula could feel the heat radiating from Angie’s body, smell the lingering herbal smoke mixed with the familiar scent of her sister’s shampoo. Angie’s gaze dropped to Paula’s lips, then flickered back up to meet her eyes. A silent question hung there, thick and potent. The shared secret, the pot’s haze, the raw vulnerability – it coalesced into an undeniable pull. Paula felt a tremor run through her, a mingling of fear and a mysterious longing.

Slowly, deliberately, Angie lifted her hand. Her fingertips brushed a stray strand of blond hair from Paula’s forehead, the touch feather-light yet electric. “Hey,” she breathed, her voice trembling slightly. “You wanna experiment?”

Paula’s heart slammed against her ribs. ‘Experiment? With Angie? My sister?’ The taboo screamed inside her head, a frantic alarm bell clanging ‘wrong, wrong, wrong’. Yet, beneath the panic, a treacherous current of desire surged, fierce and undeniable. Angie’s lips looked impossibly soft, slightly parted, and the memory of her describing Chloe’s kiss flooded Paula’s senses. The forbidden pull was magnetic, overwhelming the internal warnings. Her breath paused, not in refusal, but in anticipation. “Yes,” she whispered, the word escaping like a sigh, laden with fear and yearning.

Angie leaned in, her movements achingly slow, giving Paula every chance to pull away. Their lips met—a tentative, feather-light brush, softer than Paula imagined. It wasn’t the practiced kiss of a boy; it was exploration. Angie’s lips were warm, yielding, tasting faintly of pot smoke and mint gum. A tremor ran through Paula, a confusing mix of shock and profound relief. The taboo thought ‘sister’ flashed again, sharp and bright, instantly countered by the sheer, overwhelming sensation flooding her body—the warmth spreading from her lips down her neck, pooling low in her belly, a startlingly intense ache she’d never felt before. She pressed forward instinctively, deepening the contact, her hand finding Angie’s waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her shirt.

“Easy,” Angie murmured against her lips, pulling back just enough to speak, her breath warm on Paula’s face. Her blue eyes searched Paula’s, wide and serious. “We stop anytime, okay? Right now, if you want. Just say it.” Her thumb gently brushed Paula’s cheekbone. “No pressure. Ever.” The reassurance was a lifeline thrown into Paula’s swirling confusion. It wasn’t dismissal; it was permission. Permission to feel this terrifying pull without obligation. Paula nodded, unable to speak, her throat tight. The internal scream of ‘wrong’ faded slightly, replaced by a desperate, trembling need. She leaned forward again, her answer silent but clear, capturing Angie’s lips with more confidence this time.

Angie responded instantly, a low hum vibrating in her throat. Her hands slid up Paula’s sides, thumbs tracing the curve of her ribs beneath her thin t-shirt. Paula mirrored her, fingers trembling as they slipped under Angie’s shirt hem, finding the smooth, warm skin of her lower back. The contact sent jolts through both of them. Angie gasped softly, breaking the kiss only to trail her lips along Paula’s jawline, down the sensitive column of her neck. Her teeth grazed lightly, not biting, just testing, sending shivers cascading down Paula’s spine. The forbidden thrill intensified—the scent of Angie’s shampoo, the feel of her sister’s breath on her skin, the sheer intimacy of the touch—it was dizzying, terrifying, and utterly intoxicating. Paula tilted her head back, granting access, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Fingers fumbled with buttons and fabric. Angie’s shirt came off first, tossed aside carelessly. Paula stared, mesmerized, at the swell of Angie’s large breasts beneath the practical cotton bra. Her own hands felt clumsy as she pulled her own shirt over her head, the air cool on her flushed skin. Angie’s gaze was intense, hungry, traveling over Paula’s slender frame, lingering on her younger, firmer breasts straining against her simple bra. “God, you’re beautiful,” Angie breathed, her voice thick with desire. She reached out, her fingertips tracing the lace edge of Paula’s bra, then sliding underneath, cupping the soft flesh, her thumb brushing over the hardening nipple. A sharp gasp tore from Paula’s throat, her hips arching forward involuntarily. The ache between her legs became a throbbing pulse, insistent and demanding. All thoughts of ‘sister’ dissolved into pure sensation—touch, heat, breath, and the overwhelming need for more. Angie leaned in again, her lips finding Paula’s collarbone, then lower, towards the swell of her breast, her free hand reaching behind Paula to unhook her bra.

The clasp gave way. Angie gently pulled the bra straps down Paula’s arms, discarding it. Her eyes drank in the sight—Paula’s perfect B-cup breasts, the nipples tight and dusky pink. “So perfect,” Angie murmured, almost reverently. Then her mouth descended. She kissed the soft curve first, her lips warm and insistent. She circled slowly, deliberately, her tongue tracing patterns on the sensitive skin before finally closing her lips over Paula’s nipple. She sucked gently, then harder, swirling her tongue around the peak. Paula cried out, her fingers tangling in Angie’s blond hair, holding her close. Angie lavished attention on each breast, kissing, sucking, nipping lightly with her teeth, moving from one to the other and back again. She kissed across Paula’s chest, down her trembling stomach, her tongue dipping into Paula’s navel. She traced the curve of Paula’s ribs, kissed the sensitive skin along her spine when she urged her to turn slightly. Every touch, every kiss, was slow, deliberate, worshipful. It wasn’t just arousal; it felt like Angie was mapping her, learning her sister’s body with a tender intensity that made Paula feel both cherished and utterly exposed. The slow burn was exquisite torture. Each flick of Angie’s tongue, each gentle suck, sent jolts of pure pleasure radiating outwards, coiling the tension tighter and tighter low in Paula’s belly. She whimpered, desperate for friction, for release from the agonizingly sweet buildup Angie was orchestrating. “Angie ... please,” Paula gasped, her voice ragged. “I need ... more.”

Angie pulled back slightly, her lips glistening. Her own breathing was heavy, her large breasts rising and falling rapidly. Her gaze, dark and heated, locked onto Paula’s shorts. Her fingers hooked into the waistband. “These need to go,” she stated, her voice husky. She tugged gently. Paula lifted her hips, her heart hammering against her ribs. Angie slid the shorts down Paula’s long legs, peeling them off along with her plain cotton panties in one smooth motion. Paula lay exposed, naked except for her socks, the cool dorm air a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her skin. She felt a wave of intense vulnerability, quickly drowned out by the raw desire in Angie’s eyes as she stared at Paula’s smooth mound. Angie leaned forward again, kissing Paula’s inner thigh, her breath warm against the sensitive skin. “So wet already,” Angie murmured, her voice thick with approval. The intimacy of the comment, the sheer exposure, sent another wave of heat crashing through Paula.

Paula’s hands trembled as she reached for Angie. Her own bra was gone, but Angie’s remained—a practical barrier hiding the fullness Angie possessed. Fumbling slightly, Paula found the clasp at Angie’s back. Her fingers felt thick, clumsy. Angie shifted, helping, her breath warm on Paula’s neck. The clasp released. Paula slid the straps down Angie’s arms, pulling the bra away. Angie’s large breasts spilled free, full and heavy, tipped with dark pink nipples already taut. Paula stared, momentarily breathless. She’d seen Angie in bathing suits, but never like this—so close, so intimate, so utterly desired. She then flicked the button of Angie’s jeans and pushed the tight garment down her legs. A few seconds later Angie’s panties fell to the pile of clothing on the floor. Paula looked at her beautiful sister. The large breasts she envied, the perfect flat tummy, the flare of her hips. The sheer reality of her sister’s naked beauty, offered freely, was overwhelming. Without hesitation, driven by instinct and the fierce ache Angie had ignited, Paula leaned in. She kissed the soft swell of Angie’s breast, then took a nipple into her mouth, mimicking the slow, swirling suction Angie had used on her. Angie gasped, her head falling back, a low moan escaping her lips as Paula’s tongue flicked over the sensitive peak. The taste of her sister’s skin, the softness, the responsive shudder that ran through Angie’s body—it fueled Paula’s own desperate need. She moved to the other breast, her hands roaming Angie’s back, pulling her closer, the heat between them building towards something inevitable.