Chapter 2

That night I jerked off three times. When it was over, I felt guilty for feeling this way, but I thought about how good it felt to touch my sister’s boobs and ... well, you get the idea. It took forever to fall asleep, so it was good that I didn’t have to go to school the next day. When I woke up, Mom and Dad were gone, and I heard Martine in the shower. That was too much to resist.

“Hey,” I shouted into the bathroom, “You got any plans today?”

“Hang around here and relax. It’s the first day of vacation after all.”

I thought about her rubbing soap into her naked body, and I started rubbing my cock right there in the hall.

“Well, I’ll talk to you when you get out,” I said, going into my bedroom to finish myself off.

When Martine got out of the shower, she came into my room in a robe and asked, “While I get dressed, why don’t you have breakfast, and then we go to the loft?”

I ate possibly the fastest breakfast in my entire life.

I didn’t take the magazine out until Martine was in the loft with me. Her hair was toweled, and she wore a jean and a t-shirt.

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to read more.”

“Sure.” While she got the magazine out of the hiding spot, she added, “Go and sit against the wall with your legs spread.”

I wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but I wasn’t about to argue with her. Martine sat with her back leaning against my chest so I could read the magazine over her shoulder. I felt my cock getting hard.

“Here, this way we can both read, and it’s more comfortable than lying on the floor. My hands nervously rested on her hips and slowly climbed up to her stomach while we read the magazine. She slowly flipped through the pages, while my hands gently crept up her chest to her tits; going forward by inches, I was waiting for a suggestion that this wasn’t welcome, but I never got one. In fact, I could feel her nipples get hard under my touch. I’d heard that meant a woman was turned on, but I also knew it could simply mean that she was cold; I mean, she did just get out of the shower. After a few minutes, she gave me a real shock.

“Do you like touching my boobs?” I never expected her to just ask so blatantly. Did I really think that she just hadn’t noticed what I was doing, but I guess that I thought we’d both pretend I wasn’t doing it? I felt so excited and alive, so scared and so hopeful. It was a wonderful mix of good and bad feelings.

“Yeah, I do.” There was no sense denying it. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” she said casually. “In fact, it feels good.”

That made me feel happy, not just because I could keep this up, but I liked making Martine happy. She was always my best friend.

“So I can do this again?” I asked, trying to hide the eagerness in my voice.

Martine tried to match my casual tone. “You can do it whenever you want,” then she added, “provided we’re alone.”

So that’s how it went for the next week. Whenever Martine and I were alone, I’d caress her breasts. It meant sitting close to each other and snuggling, but I’d always liked that. Sometimes we’d read the magazine; other times, we’d just talk. I kept waiting for it to get boring, but it never did, and I kept waiting for Martine to decide that she didn’t want to do it anymore, but she never did. In fact, she seemed to find as many reasons as I did for us to be alone.

OK, I’ll admit it. I wanted to move things farther along, but I didn’t know how, and I certainly didn’t want to risk ruining a great thing.

Then after a week, we were reading the magazine again, and there was one of the photo spreads that showed the model masturbating and had the caption ‘I love to finger my wet cunt!’