Sisters
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2010 by Pretty in Pink

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Suzanne and Amber both go to Claiborne High in the Construct. Both enjoy it, until Suzanne goes missing. Amber decides she's the only one who can find her sister.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Ma/ft   Consensual   Science Fiction   Gang Bang   Group Sex   Orgy   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   2nd POV   Violence   School  

Suzanne stepped off the bus and looked to her right. Another bus was slowing to a stop. She moved out of the line of kids that had followed her, waiting to see if someone she knew was on the bus. As she'd hoped, Roger got off, his book satchel over his shoulder.

She walked up to him, smiling. "Hello, stranger. Haven't seen you in ages."

He laughed. "It's good to see you, too. And it's only been a month."

They fell into step as they walked toward the school entrance. Their hands brushed, and then joined. "It seems like a lot longer than a month."

"I checked my calendar; almost 30 days to the hour. I wonder what changes they've made in the school?"

"Nothing too substantive. I liked it the way it was."

"I did, too. I'd heard rumors that they were doing something, though. It wouldn't surprise me. You always update programs."

Suzanne laughed. "Yeah, like they need it sometimes."

He shrugged. "You were in that class. Change requests come in all shapes and flavors."

"And a lot of them are 'feel-good' changes that are strictly cosmetic."

"True." He paused by the front door, looking around. Another bus had stopped, and a trickle of students were disembarking. "You'd think they'd change the way we get here."

"I like it. It's a tradition."

"If Claiborne has any traditions."

Her eyes sparkled. "The school has one that I've been thinking about for 30 days."

He laughed and held the door for her. "So have I."

They stashed their books in their lockers, and then filed through the internal door to the school, what some wit had called the 'air lock' for its resemblance to one. Their lockers had two doors, one on the outer side, one on the inside, and a movable partition that kept people from seeing out one door when the other was open.

They undressed quickly, and then, hand-in-hand, walked across the lobby to the first alcove. Roger found a spot for them. Suzanne lay back on the cushions, drawing him down next to her.

Their first kiss was slow and lingering, the kiss she'd been dreaming about for the entire 30 day break between classes. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his side. His skin was rougher than hers, and had a slight scent of the outdoors.

His mouth left hers, to kiss along her cheek, her jaw, and finally that sensitive place beneath her ear. From there he descended, little kisses that left warm pools of wet skin. He circled her breasts, finally homing in on her nips.

"Missed these," he murmured. His lips nibbled her peaks, sucking, pinching, twisting, making her push up into him, trying to give. He let go one, only to fasten on the other. Back and forth, he kept working her rapidly flushing skin, drawing her out until her peaks were hard points of aching need.

"Should I continue?" he murmured.

She felt between them, finding and taking his rigid cock. "Only with this."

He smiled, and kissed back up to her lips, letting her guide him. She nestled it against her slit, rubbing the blunt head up and down her slit, coating it with her juices. Then she pushed him down to her entrance.

"Your turn," she said, her eyes dancing with excitement.

He pushed. She caught her breath, feeling him sliding against her fingers, feeling him sliding into her. There was no feeling like it in the world, and she'd missed it for the last 30 days.

She was wet and ready, her body eager for their joining. He moved purposely, sheathing his length in her. She stopped breathing as he moved, remembering to gasp when she felt his balls nudge her bottom.

He adjusted his hands, taking a little of his weight, but cradling her with his arms. She responded by wrapping her legs around his thighs. She felt pinned in place, partly by his weight, but partly by his intruding cock and partly by the hungry lips that sought hers.

He began to move, a slow withdrawal, and a sharper return. She matched him, pushing up on him, trying to take everything he had. Her body felt heavy, light, shivery and burning up, all at the same time. She wanted to pull him entirely into her, not just his male length. It'd been 30 days since the last time they'd done this, and as nerves in her channel sent fiery little messages of pleasure deep into her, she moaned in her need and appreciation. She'd missed this more than she'd realized.

She tossed her head back and forth, trying to hold in the pleasure. She was burning up. Her middle had taken on a life of its own, clasping its welcome intruder, squeezing and massaging it unmercifully. Her whole attention focused there, and the rising tide that made it difficult to breathe.

He began to move faster, sharper, making her body shake with each thrust. She tried to draw him deeper, crying out with every push, gasping with each withdrawal. Everything was turned inward as she rose on that steep slope. She could feel it rising in her, and she fought to contain it, to maintain the pleasure, much as she wanted the culmination, too.

His arms tightened around her. She threw her head back, driving up into him, wanting, taking, holding on, and then soaring up to that critical point. For one eternal moment she hung there, then wave after wave swept through her, washing away the tension, and bringing the first total relaxation she'd had since the last day of school.

Roger was relaxing with her, his frantic motions easing and finally stopping. They grinned at each other from just a few inches away, then traded happy kisses.

"God, I missed that," she murmured.

"What? You don't have a stable of young studs to attend to your every need during the break?"

"I have the same stable of studs as you have girls in your harem."

"You have your hand, I have my fingers. And they aren't a substitute."

"And you told me about your mother."

Suzanne chuckled, the effort making her squeeze on his softening cock. That felt good, and she wanted to go again. But they had class...

"Yeah, my mother defends my virtue zealously. I'm a 'good' girl."

"You certainly are good." He squeezed her breast to make sure she got the joke.

"She'd have a coronary if she knew what happened here at Claiborne."

"As would my mother. My father would just think I should be a stud."

She sighed, and touched his shoulder. They had enough experience together that he got the hint and rolled off of her. She glanced down. His cock looked like a red, shrunken imitation of the thing that had plundered her sex only a few moments before.

"I suppose we should clean up a little."

"Oh, I don't know," she laughed. "Isn't one of the traditions around here attending class while reeking of sex?"

"One of the most honored."

Nevertheless, they made their way to the nearest restroom. Claiborne was a computer simulation in The Construct, and they could have sex time after time without running any risks, but they'd been taught to treat their experiences as if they were real. That meant peeing after sex to flush any germs, as well as showering in the unisex bathroom to get rid of any leftover juices and smells.

Finally, washed and dried, they made their way hand-in-hand to Home Room.

Suzanne found her seat—they were seated alphabetically by last name and each desk had a placard with their name on it—and settled back with a sigh. Three years ago, when she'd started at Claiborne, she would have been mortified to walk into a room naked. Now she did so with just an idle glance to see who was back for this term.

Mrs. Davis was their Home Room teacher. She came in, her long dark hair swaying in time with the jiggle of her breasts. She stopped at the front of the class, running her finger down the list of students displayed on the podium monitor there.

Suzanne hadn't told people, but she wanted to look like Mrs. Davis would if she lost a few pounds. The same breasts, large but firm with large areola and prominent nipples, the same flat stomach with the tiniest tuft of hair at the base, and the same legs, muscular but trim. They had the same color hair, though hers only brushed her shoulder. And Mrs. Davis had an oval face, not the lean one with prominent cheekbones that Suzanne sort of liked and sort of didn't.

"The school has added the following experimental feature," Mrs. Davis said. "Starting tomorrow, students may spend time in the outdoor module that Central Programming has been promising for more than two years. We have three sites right now. The first is a beach in Polynesia, the second a mountain resort, and the third a beach in the Caribbean."

"Question?" Roger called. "Are they existing locations, or are they made especially for the school." The unasked question was whether students would have to dress to visit these places.

"These are copies of existing places," Mrs. Davis said. "They are unique locations to Claiborne. And no, before you ask, you won't sunburn. You will have to be careful swimming, though. It is possible for you to get injured there, and we don't want that.

"One more thing before I finish with announcements, there is a time-compression feature built in. It's at 4:1, so the hour you spend there will seem like four hours. That's on top of the time compression we have here."

She thumbed something on the display in front of her. "Now there's one more thing. This term, each of you will have to spend time in the Claiborne-alternate. There have been lawsuits filed to allow parents to see what goes on here, and the parents are being routed to the alternate."

"Question," one girl said. "Does that include—"

"The Construct is routing them to an alternate that looks just like a regular school."

"You mean clothes and ... everything?"

She nodded. "Every student will have to spend at least one session in the alternate either today or tomorrow. It will help the system put you, or a cloned avatar, there so you can be visible."

"Next will come lawsuits about the curriculum," one boy said.

Mrs. Davis shook her head. "That's already being addressed. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. All right, you all have your schedules. I'll see you here tomorrow." She turned and walked away, and their schedules all appeared on their comp nodes.

Normally there were 30 minutes between each hour-long class. Not between Homeroom and the first one. There it was just 10 minutes, not enough to get up to anything. They still had a few minutes, so Suzanne went over her schedule:

1st Period: Differential Equations;

2nd Period: Physics 201;

3rd Period: History & Current Affairs;

4th Period: State-mandated P.E.;

5th Period: Computer composition;

6th Period: Advanced Topics;

It wasn't the roughest schedule she'd ever had. That had been the previous term when she'd had to take English and read a lot of older works. She had an idea of what she wanted to do with her life, and the Physics and Comp courses would help put her on that track. Her mother would pitch a fit; 'nice' girls didn't get involved with the sciences. She did wonder about 'Advanced Topics.' If her experience was anything to go by, that was a wild card. Anything was possible.

The two things that would strike people as unusual were the P.E. class, and 'History & Current Affairs.' They were in a computer simulation, and physical exercise was one of those things that would be pointless, but it was a required part of the curriculum, passed after worries about the 'obesity epidemic' from their parents' day. They went through the motions, just like you did with a lot of other mandated things.

The one that was sure to send parents into a towering rage was the 'History & Current Affairs' class. This wasn't the history that earlier generations had learned. For one thing, there was a lot of pretty heavy content in it. And for another, it didn't have the political slant that she remembered from before she'd started at Claiborne.

The classic example was logging. Back when she was in elementary school, they were told to empathize with all of the poor squirrels and noble firs. The latter, it was suggested, thought deep philosophical works that were forever lost when they were cut down.

Claiborne took the students through the anatomy of a tree. They measured things like electrical activity. And then they studied the economic practices of the timber companies, and how no timber company would willingly put itself out of business by clear-cutting. It didn't take too many brain cells before they realized that the teachers who had taught them about 'deep philosophical thoughts' didn't have a clue. Their economic theories—they'd had two terms of economics—were straight out of the 19th Century, the same theories Marx used, and had no basis in reality. The capper was the Russian economist from the 1980s who confessed that Marxist economic thought was inadequate to explain the operation of a lemonade stand. Instead they used Utility and Marginal Replacement Value.

All of that was a worry for another time. Instead she returned to her locker, got her things, and reported to Diffy Q.

When she'd started at Claiborne they'd had textbooks. The year before they'd been issued electronic tablets, and the material was downloaded directly there. They could write on them, download, upload, and all sorts of other 'loads.' And they were synched to a student's home comp so their work was readily available.

After class they had the first set of 'fun-and-games.' They had 30 minutes between each class, and they could study, prepare, read ahead, do homework, or screw their brains out. The latter was quite popular, and this being the first day of school, she did just that. He was some boy from a different class, and proved both vigorous and long-lasting. And they both made their next classes with time to spare.

Lunch at Claiborne was two hours. Nobody really needed to eat, but the state mandated it. In theory they had an hour, but the 30 minutes on each end added up to two hours. They staggered the lunch hour, partly because of the 'load' on the cafeteria, but partly because of the atrium.

This was an open area with a sliding roof—Claiborne took its weather from some place in the country nobody had figured out—and plenty of grass and trees. It was a popular place to talk, to eat, and to have sex. That happened at Claiborne, and after a while nobody noticed. Oh, they're screwing. Okay, moving on ... You might stop to watch if they were doing something you hadn't tried, but you generally didn't. She remembered one lunch when she had been working through a problem for economics, and not two feet away a couple was going at it like bunnies in heat. Or minks. Probably the latter; she'd learned those little rodents had a sex drive that was all out of proportion to their size.

She and Roger had staggered lunches. They shared part of the first hour and got reacquainted. She was feeling very mellow when he went off to class. She got a snack, and settled down to talk with some friends. On any time other than the first day of class she would have been hitting the books, metaphorically speaking. But today all of those naked male bodies was working its magic, and finally Tom, a friend from Diffy Q, found a comfortable place where they could spend some time.

Something about Claiborne put everyone in a perpetual state of horniness. The rumor was that there was some module in the core programming that ramped up the sex drive of everyone there. Someone said that was about a 50% increase for guys, and about a 400% increase for girls, at least at first. It wasn't that the girls needed any more arousing, but it also lowered everyone's inhibitions. The average girl had come from an environment where the emphasis was on not having sex, and they were now in one where you very much did have sex.

The ground in the atrium was a little spongy, about like a couch or a padded chair. He was lean and tall, and an absolute whiz with both differential equations and his tongue. He applied the latter to her breasts, and over the next few minutes worked his way down to her tummy. She sighed happily when he finally burrowed into her core. There was such a lovely feeling when a guy pushed his oral digit into her most sensitive place.

He stayed there for a while, and after shuddering through an absolutely dynamite climax she caught her breath and started to return the favor. Tom, though, didn't always like blow-jobs. That seemed unnatural, but he liked burying himself in a girl's sex. And so after a few licks and sucks to make sure his dick did stand up, she lay back with her legs open in invitation.

She knew a young lady was not supposed to look forward to a young man pushing his manhood into her. She'd heard this from her mother, her aunts, and every other female relative. It just wasn't proper. (Her grandmother had a different opinion, but when you were 82 years old you could say what you really thought). This was Claiborne, though, and she kissed him, ran her hands up his sides and over his marvelous shoulders, and encouraged him.

"Put it in. Put it in!"

Tom was a very polite young man, and so he did just that.

She was still coming down from my last climax, which meant she was still pretty worked up. He entered her, and they proceeded from there. A few minutes later they shared a mutual completion that left them both gasping for breath. Our urgency satiated, they snuggled happily for a few minutes before finally parting.

They each went their own way. She wanted to get a jump on her next class, so she made for the showers. She was just emerging when she bumped into her little sister.

She was like a junior edition, with the dark and sultry look so common to the women in their family. They were both willowy, though Suzanne had a few inches on her here and there. Her sister liked to wear her dark hair to her shoulders, while she liked hers partway down her back.

"Sis?"

"Amber?" It wasn't the most original line, but it was the only thing that came out. "What are you ... Strike that. You're a student here?"

"I just started." She waved her left hand with the pink band around the wrist. "I'm still doing Orientation."

"I didn't even know you'd applied. How far along are you?"

"Um, I'm nearly done with Orientation." She looked around. "This isn't anything like I thought it would be."

Suzanne took her arm and headed for the nearest alcove. There were two couples going at it, and Amber stared at them. Suzanne paid them no attention; she'd seen it all before, and even done it a few dozen times in the last two years.

"I didn't even know you'd applied for Virtual Learning."

Amber shook her head and stared at Suzanne. "Mother thought I should. You're doing well, and when you graduate you'll have a full scholarship, and only have two more years to go to get your degree."

"And so she thought she'd do the same with you."

Amber nodded. "But I didn't think it would be like this."

"This is an exception. Most schools aren't anything like this."

"I bet."

"Does the nudity bother you?"

"How do you get used to it?"

"The first month? I did a lot of staring. Now? Everyone's nude; so what. Besides, this isn't really 'you.' This is an avatar. And you can make changes to it."

Amber had automatically crossed her arms over her breasts when she sat. Now she sat up straight. "I can?"

"Usually minor, cosmetic things." Suzanne thrust my chest forward. "I have bigger boobs, about what the computer thinks I'll have when I've finished growing."

"And your hair. It's a little longer."

"Mother wants me to keep it short, and I want it longer."

"Can I... ?"

"You have to ask one of the teachers. They'll direct you. Only thing is, don't go overboard. Don't hang two bowling balls on your chest. Keep things in proportion."

"But what if I want to be that big?"

"Then you'll find out what a pain they can be. Go ahead," she waved. "Every girl tries it sooner or later."

"One question a lot of the girls in my Orientation class have," Amber said after a bit. "Why all of the sex?"

"No one knows. Or if they do, they aren't saying."

"I can see it once, maybe twice, but all of the time?" She pointedly looked at the couple on the adjoining couch.

"It's fun, and it's almost impossible not to do it. And you're safe."

"Even if a guy that I don't like tries to hit on me?"

"Even then. Guys are told that 'no' means just that. You'll find, though, that you don't say it too often. I don't know why, but even the guys you wouldn't normally give a second look to are worth at least one time."

"Really? What about, you know, love, respect, and things like that?"

"You develop friends."

Amber searched her face. "Let me guess. You have a boyfriend."

Suzanne nodded. "Yeah, though he's not one I can take home. For on thing, he lives in Northern Michigan. That isn't very convenient."

"Do you ... are you two ... You know."

"You mean are we exclusive?" Suzanne shook her head. "Not here. It's impossible to be. And before you ask: how can we, I'll tell you: you just do. Jealousy doesn't seem to work around here. You very quickly learn you need more than a sexy body to hook and hold a guy."

"I can see that."

"A lot of girls don't, but they're in other high schools."

"I saw that in my last school. Who was dating whom was a constant source of gossip. And heaven help the girl who began seeing some guy that another girl had set her sights on."

"We don't have many dating opportunities here," I said. "For one thing, we're scattered all over the place. That puts a crimp in things."

"Yeah, it would. Mother thought you were seeing someone, though."

"Two guys. One here, one back home."

She laughed. "I suppose you like the guy here a lot more than the guy back home."

"More or less. But I'm not going to tell Mother."

"God, no."

"That does bring up something, Amber. You can't talk about anything that happens here. Ever."

"I thought, you know, if it was just the two of us..."

"No, it's not that you shouldn't, it's that you can't. The system does something so you find you can't. You can talk about class work, but not the other things we do."

Amber glanced at the couple who were just finishing on the other end of the couch. "Mother would kill us."

"Parents everywhere would go on a rampage, so we don't."

"The teachers said something about that."

Before she could say more, a guy walked up. From the look on her face, this was the guy she'd met in Orientation. Suzanne gave Amber a farewell smile and went to get something from her locker. When she came back that way a few minutes later Amber was on her back, her legs around his waist as he put it to her.

She had a lot of memories of her little sister. Most of them were of a skinny little kid who got away with less than she did. That was the trouble with being the second child; the parents learned from the first one. She'd never pictured her sister like she was now: her teenage breasts flattened across her chest but still jiggling a bit; her sex red and wet as a hard male cock slid in and out of it; her legs pulling him with each in-stroke; her face flushed and her eyes dancing with delight.

She watched for a bit, fascinated. In so many ways, that was her. Despite the three year difference in their ages, they were alike in more ways than people knew. Part of that was their upbringing; Father had insisted they learn good business and thinking habits, sometimes over Mother's objections. That, and the family's wealth, had induced certain mental habits.

Amber began to gasp. She'd been giving little cries with each stroke, now she was arching up into him. Her hands clutched him, her neck muscles were standing out, and then she gave a softer cry than before, her breath caught, and a flush spread across her chest.

The guy, not to be outdone, sped up, slamming into her hard enough to make her sister's body shake. And then he arched up, holding still. Suzanne saw a single pearl of liquid escape Amber's sex and slip down her bottom.

She felt the urge to find a guy. She wanted to be there, rising to passion's peak, feeling them both go rigid as the moment overtook them. She wanted ... She had P.E., and that would more than suffice.

She gave Amber a fond look. Her sister was gazing up at the guy as they traded kisses. She loved being kissed like that. All of your barriers were down, you were as intimate as could be, and that was the perfect time to kiss.

She shook her head. "Later," she told herself. Instead she headed for the gym. There she dutifully swam the laps they wanted, and then retired to the shower for the real reason P.E. was popular. You put 20-30 kids in a shower, naked, and with ramped up sex drives. Anonymous hands groped your body, anonymous cocks slid into you, your fingers grasped unknown cocks, and so on. In the outside world it would be what people picture as an orgy, 20-30 people having sex in a confined area.

The great thing about the shower was that guys had the same sexual plateauing that girls experienced. Normally a guy would climax, come down as fast as they went up, and have to rest a while before doing it again. In the shower a guy would come, and be ready to come again, though maybe without the ejaculating, in seconds. That was great for the guys, and it was terrific for the girls. There was something about having a multiple orgasm, or one that just rolled on and on with little peaks, and the guy was there with the girl, matching climax to climax. And they weren't wiped out when it was over.

By the time she got out of P.E. she was a little sore, and whatever unladylike urges she may have been feeling had been well and truly assuaged. She was also sparkly clean. There's no need to spend time cleaning up afterwards because you sort of did it as you went.

That left her with Computer Composition and 'Advanced Topics, ' whatever that was.

Computer Composition was programming, pure and simple. They were put in a lab for three hours, lab time, which meant they had a 3:1 squeezing of time. They started by creating a small VR space of our own, and went from there.

'Advanced Topics' built on what they'd been covering in Double-C. They learned how to measure and determine all sorts of things in programming terms. It was a yawner to some people, and interesting to others. She saw how she could model physics experiments, and that kept her interested.

After the last class most kids got one more chance at the fun and games. In this case it was Roger. He was strong and masculine, and she let herself go. She wanted to take him into her. She wanted his strength to sweep them away on wings of passion. They did, and for the last time that day. They ended with their bodies joined, snuggling against each other, sweaty skin caressing sweaty skin as they kissed.

They had to leave, and reluctantly parted. Nobody cleaned up after this last time. Instead they hurried into their clothes and out to the busses. She was feeling kind of hot and loose, charged full of energy, but wanting to drift at the same time.

Amber joined her on the bus, and she had that distracted look on her face, and a flush on her cheeks, that said she'd enjoyed the 'after class' time. The bus pulled out, accelerated slightly as it moved down the circular drive, and then everything went gray.


She woke in the small room she always used at the local offices of The Construct. Suzanne pushed up the VR hood that covered her head, and sat up. She still felt hot and loose, and really wanted to get laid. That would have to wait until the next day.

She stripped away the contacts on her head and arms. Her mother had insisted she wear a nice skirt and blouse for the first day of school, and went through the shutdown procedure. When that was done she picked up her e-tablet in its docking cradle. It already had the course material for her homework, and she tucked that into her purse. After signing out, she went down the hall to take care of nature.

When she got to the lobby, Suzanne saw James waiting in the parking lot with the car. She didn't expect to see Trevor, her putative boyfriend, to be sitting close to the door in his Mercedes. He was in college, and both families thought the two of them would be perfect for each other. He was going to be a doctor or lawyer, the expensive kind, and her mother imagined her as the perfect supportive wife. 'Nice girls' didn't go into the sciences.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said as she slid into the car. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I thought I'd pick you up."

"Don't you have classes?"

"Not until late this afternoon." He glanced at the non-existent traffic and headed for the street. "I have a seminar at 4:30."

Trevor wasn't bad to look at, a just over six feet tall with nice definition to his shoulders. He was pleasant, in an average way. They'd held hands, that was all that her mother would allow, and they'd snuck in the occasional kiss.

She had to smile at how quickly things changed. Fifteen minutes ago she and Roger were relaxing, his sweaty skin rough against hers, his manhood still inside her. Now she was sitting, properly demure, her fashionable skirt arranged just so. She was still horny, perhaps more so than before. She wondered what Trevor would do or think if she tried to do to him what she and Roger had just done. It would, at the very least, shock him. Maybe he'd go for it, but perhaps not. In two years of occasional dates he hadn't tried to get adventurous at all.

They had a late-afternoon snack, and she gave him another kiss on the cheek when he dropped her off at home. Amber was in the study talking with her financial advisor. One of the things their Father had done was make sure each child had her own money. He managed it at first, but had showed them everything he was doing. She had learned that you had to pay attention to it—a lot of their friends didn't, taking their money for granted. Too many of them ended up wondering why they went broke, having to give up the estate, the summer homes, the vacations, and everything else.

Mother was in the Conservatory, hosting a fund-raiser for whatever cause of the month had attracted her attention. Suzanne appeared at the door long enough to let her mother know she was home. Then she went upstairs to her room. Once there, and with the door safely locked, she went into her bathroom, locked that door, undressed, and masturbated to completion.

When the last tremor left her, she slumped back against the wall. Experience had taught her that she had to do something to relieve the tension the day's sexual escapades had given her. Until she did that, every touch on every sensitive place sent a jolt of feeling through her. If she didn't, she would be on edge all evening, easily distracted, and prone to all sorts of unladylike comments.

One of her mother's friends had said girls didn't really have a need for sexual release. That was a myth promulgated by low-class women who had nothing better to do than shoot drugs and act slutty. Her years at Claiborne had taught her that she did have needs, and a hard cock took care of most of them. But absent the requisite male anatomy, she had to find an alternative. Her fingers found her clitoris, and her hand closed around her breast. Between them she stimulated herself to the point where she twisted through a climax, this time for the pleasure it brought, not to just relieve the need she felt.

After she was done she cleaned up and got dressed. Amber saw her coming down the stairs and came out of the study to intercept her.

"I have some questions," she said in a low voice.

"About school?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "but they're things that can be talked about."

"Most of the rest can, too, but only if there's no one around."

"Good, because I have questions about that, too."

"The gardens are a good place to talk," she told her sister.

They settled in the gazebo. The formal gardens were on one side, and the pool on the other. Their father had deliberately made this as private a place to talk as he could. The nearby fountain and gurgling water was carefully designed to defeat any listening device, and Security checked the place every day.

"So what's on your mind?"

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