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How did we ever get to be such weird girls? My sister never had an answer, and, quite frankly, neither did I. We always accepted it as what was. While other girls might have been busy with boys, we developed our own interests. I guess you could call us…nerds, if only for our overactive imaginations.
At times, we had both expressed our dismay at the sheltered life we were forced by our father to lead. Perhaps it was for his lack of wife, but he felt our protection was his top priority. We were a lucky find, the two of us: both put up for adoption by separate, yet no less anonymous mothers. Our father was confused. Until he saw the papers, he was sure we were already sisters (no shame on him though. Everyone else thinks it too). What birthright had not aligned, he sought to align. He swiftly put in to adopt us both, and, once the paperwork was through, we lived as sisters would, getting along, watching each other’s backs, gossiping, and even sharing some… interesting… secrets in the darkened quiet of our room whilst our father slumbered.
I had always relished our heart-to-hearts in the thick silence of the night. We had shared what little experiences we were afforded the chance to have. Since we had been kept in close tether to our father, these were limited to giggle-rife ‘what-if…’ questions, which were always dismissed with a rehearsed “dad would be furious!” If it weren’t for dad, I’m relatively sure we could have had some male contact. I’m about 5’3″ with medium blonde hair, and a pretty sizable bust. My waist isn’t wasp thin, but you could distinguish that I kept pretty healthy. My sister, Tiffany was only about an inch shorter than me, and wore her hair a smidge longer, but she was a tad thinner. But I still wouldn’t trade my jugs for her slimmer figure.
Now, my sister and I were all but done with our teen years, both of busily us cleaning up our 18th birthday party. As I pulled down the gaudy “Happy 18th, Jess and Tiff!” banner, Tiffany snuck up beside me and jump-hugged me.
“Shit, Tiff,” I exclaimed, as I twisted to keep my balance with my sister on my back, eventually falling to the floor, wrapped up tight in the banner. Tiffany, who had managed to dismount before the tumble, snickered at my misfortune. “Don’t do that! Damn, this morning would go a whole lot smoother if you’d lend a hand.”
“Why so on edge, Jess? Oh sob, oh cry, my name’s Jessica Langley, and I have to do work! Don’t get your panties in a bunch, sis. I’ll help you out.”
“In a bunch? What an old expression. Let’s not jump to conclusions about such things, dearest sister. Go and fetch a bin, will you?” How sheltered is this girl? It’s been at least two years since I wore panties bulky enough to bunch up. Except for that one pair of silk ones. Boy, when they bunched up in the front, and rubbed up in between my…
“Kchh, Squad Jess, this is Command, where is your brain? Give us a sit-rep, over, kchh” Tiffany mocked, speaking into the large rubbish bin she had brought to create an impressive COD4 reference.
“Wha, huh? Oh, sorry sis, I was miles away.”
“Clearly. Now let’s go. Upstairs is even messier than down here. The girls left a whole load of crap on the floor.”
And so we progressed through the living room, picking up garbage, and straightening up the rooms on our sojourn towards our bedroom. In our minds we were a two-girl fellowship (myself, Jessica the Unscathed, and my shield-sister Tiffany, Defender of House Langley) stemming the hordes of Fiends, Uruk-hai, and all other manner of dark-spawn; fighting back-to-back in a vengeful retreat to the sanctuary of Bedrooms Deep. In reality, we were two semi-nerdy girls pressed into each other’s backsides as we picked up trash on the way to our room.
If it hasn’t been made obvious thus far, my sister and I are kind of nerds. The sheltered existence at the hands of our father drove us to this lifestyle. We were always fans of most videogames, and fantasy lore. It showed in our everyday tasks, even the least epic (like cleaning up after a sleepover for example!).
It was as our small fellowship was almost defeated, nearly overwhelmed, on our last gasp, that everything paused; both the trash and the two of us looked around for the source of the loud thuds. It came from below. Our father’s footsteps; Drums in the Deep. “Girls, enough of this,” our father declared as he surmounted the Endless Stair. “Now, this job is easy, and I expected it to be done hours ago. Now get the anchors out of your pants!” With this, our fantasy ended. We were put into full retreat, and went about our duties.
“Dad actually had a good idea there,” I mused. As the room was getting warmer from our bustling activity, I decided to put his advice into action, and change pants.
“Oh ho! Well, I don’t see any anchors, just an ass. A nice one at that,” Tiffany commented, (perhaps) feigning interest. I responded by pulling the tight pants up my legs till they pushed my ass up and together. What happened next surprised me, and continues to do so.
*Smack!* I küçükçekmece escort heard it before I felt it, responding with a small yelp. My sister had just smacked my ass. “Put that thing away, girl. You’re making me jealous,” she said, laughing.
“Oh come on. What’s there to be jealous about? This barge?”
“Don’t belittle yourself, sis. I wish I had one like yours. Nicely sized, but strong too; not saggy.”
“Tha…Thank you, Tiff.” It was the first really honest compliment she had made about my body. As my thoughts drifted back to cleaning, I felt the delayed slight stinging in my butt. It was only a short crack on the right cheek, but it was enough to last. The feeling was weird… Almost tingly more than stinging. The sensation started to spread as time went on, but I forced myself to focus just before it grazed my…
“Are you daydreaming again? We’re gonna get it if this room isn’t clean soon. There’ll be time to space out later, come on,” Tiffany urged, ushering me over to the loose piles of magazines we had flipped through at the party.
Most of the magazines were legitimate stuff, but, being girls our age, the two of us and our guests had other things on our minds. We flipped idly through, calling attention as a group to certain pictures of men we thought to be particularly hot. Suave hair, check. Chiseled face with body to match, check. Gratuitous oiling of rippling muscles in a slightly but not too provocative pose, check plus!
However, one picture in particular caught my attention. It detailed a young man and who was presumably his girlfriend outside what appeared to be a movie theatre. The marquee proclaimed a cliché romance movie title, and the two figures were close. Very close. Their bodies seemed to wrap into one as they embraced and shared a passionate kiss.
Passion. That was what this photo was about. The models seemed to be lost in each other, not even aware that a camera and lighting crew sullied their mood. They weren’t performing for an audience. Not trying to sell anything. No James Brown kneeling and draped in a cape. This was Marvin Gaye singing the national anthem at the ’83 all star game. Singing for the sheer soul of it. Standing plain and candid. Doing what one feels. Trapped in each other and yet so free of troubles. We cannot get out–we do not want to. Drums in the Deep.
That time, however, the drums of the deep belonged not to my father’s lumbering steps, but to my own heart. This was it. What I had been searching for. More arousing than any lewd pornography. This was pure. Pure as dad might ever allow.
Noticing my awkward pause at this photo, the others around me had grown restless. Why did she stop at this one? He’s got all his clothes on? I eventually noticed the silence, and laughed it off, saying something made-up on the spot, like “Oh, I think I saw that movie too,” or some other distraction. Stupid me.
Now able to take my time to examine this photo, I realized something even more confusing than my feelings the night before. It was the girl in the picture. Fair complexion, about my height, Blonde hair, a frame like mine but thinner… “Tiffany!”
“What’s going on,” called Tiffany from below her bed, still cleaning, “has education finally been cut all together? That’s the only reason I voted Torie.”
“Oh, uh, nothing. Just…” looking down to the magazine, “wanted to tell you I’m headed for the toilet. Keep working.”
I made my way swiftly down the hall, almost afraid to be caught ogling what was probably a deodorant or breath freshener advertisement. I finally made it to the bathroom, and locked the door behind me. No one’s going to disturb me, I thought. The way is shut.
I opened the magazine to the advertisement, and looked again at the girl pictured. She looked almost just like my sister. Especially the face. They could have been… Twins? Since we’d both been put up for adoption, I suppose it’s not totally out of the question… Supposing one child was enough for an overworked mother… Yes, it could be.
I was beginning to feel quite warm inside, the thought of another girl out there just as beautiful as my sister was a strange one. I wondered what was causing my strange feelings, and soon found the culprit. My hand had drifted down my body and was idly stroking between my thighs. Stop, I told myself. What am I doing?
This was, after all, essentially the same girl I grew up with, and had cherished as a sister my whole life. Why is a girl turning me on anyway? Is it because it reminds me of Tiffany? No other woman has had this effect on me, so why was this incredibly beautiful Tiffany look-a-like getting me wet? It’s bizarre. And yet…
It had not been long since I had felt like this. Right before the party, in the shower, the showerhead had fallen down, and when I had to go and get it, it sprayed warm wet niceties directly onto my core. This was different though. Not overwhelming in power, levent escort but overwhelming in subtlety.
Whatever the reason, there I sat in the bathroom, leaning back on the closed toilet, bothering my clit with my thumb while I thrust two more fingers between my lips, feeling the wet warmth incase them. The musky familiar smell began to rise as I worked my fingers more furiously, the bottom of my shirt between my teeth to stifle the noise I was making. But, there was no way to stifle the soft squelching sound my sex made as I grew ever closer to orgasm.
Then it happened. Stars; arched bridges; deep footprints; billowing vestments and distant thunder. It was easily the strongest orgasm of my life. I felt wonderful, and also terrible. The immense release!… was from thinking about Tiffany. Contented and disgusted, I fell from my seat…
“Jess? Jess! Wake up, please,” were the first words I heard when the darkness faded. When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by my beautiful sister. Tiffany Langley, A Light from the Shadow.
“Oh God. Are you alright,” she asked me as I straightened up, suddenly aware of the sharp pain in my forehead.
“What are you doing here, Tiff?”
“I heard this bang from the bathroom, and I knew you were in here, so I needed to know you were alright,” Tiff explained, seemingly out of breath. I looked around, wondering why she was breathless, and saw that the door was hanging by two loose hinges.
“You busted the door down?”
“I was worried. I called, and you didn’t answer. Good thing it’s not too serious…oh no!”
“Your forehead is bleeding! Let’s get that cleaned up.”
Tiffany went over to the sink to grab and wet a washcloth, then pulled me to my feet to wipe the blood from my forehead. It was only once she was uncomfortably (or comfortably) close to me, applying pressure to my wound, that I realized I had never pulled up my pants or panties. I stood perfectly still, hoping beyond hope that if I hadn’t noticed, Tiff hadn’t either.
I began to realize that Tiffany was slowly moving her leg closer to mine. She guided it slowly up between my thighs; I suppose she thought that the pressure on my head would distract me enough, but she was wrong. I began to notice, more so, to feel that same unshakeable tingling deep inside me, as her well-toned leg began to massage my clit, her hard thigh bones in sharp contrast to her silken skin. Only the organ she massaged could rival her leg’s smoothness, and both were quickly becoming soaked with my arousal.
“Tiff, what are you doing?”
She removed her leg for only a moment, to glance up at me, then lowered her gaze and replaced her leg, moving more insistently than before.
“Something I should have done long ago. There’s something you…don’t know about us. I’m not sure if dad ever told you. But, once I managed to find out for sure, it… well, it all…seems to make sense now,” Tiff managed to say, her breathing becoming more labored as well.
“Woah, hey. Is this about us being adopted?”
Tiffany stopped her ministrations, looking at me oddly. “You knew?”
“Of course. You think I don’t do my share of snooping around here?”
“Well, no. I mean…” she said, struggling to find the right words. “I mean…Well, this makes this whole situation a tad less awkward, huh,” she added quietly, looking sheepish.
“I’m… not sure. It still feels weird.”
“Of course it does, Jess. That’s how it feels when you get touched down…there.”
“No, not that kind of weird. It’s just that… You’re…I’m…”
“Your sister,” Tiffany said, finishing my sentence. “But, the papers say-“
“I don’t care what the papers say,” I half-screamed, feeling my emotions well up inside. “Maybe not by blood, but you’re still my sister! I can’t just…It’s not like…”
“Jessica…” We had separated and were standing on opposite sides of the bathroom now.
“I just… need some time to get my head around this, Tiff.” I started to walk for the door, brushing awkwardly past Tiffany’s body in the process. ‘Wow,’ I told myself, amazed and confused, ‘I can feel her juices already running down her legs… And I was the one getting touched. But…what if they’re mine…’
Once out of the bathroom, I traipsed toward the bedroom, finally falling onto my bed, still dazed and confused. This girl, although admittedly attractive, and albeit very compatible with me, was making an overt, physical pass at me. Her own…sister.
Wasn’t I just as guilty though? I had just pleasured myself to a literally earth shattering orgasm with no regrets or shame, while imagining her look-a-like. Then, when she came in, I got all logical and denied her advances. But, why? It felt so good. So warm, and wet. And the sounds! The soft squelch of my pussy, the outer lips stretching to let her firm thigh massage my sensitive flesh…
But it seems so wrong, too. Even if we weren’t really sisters by blood, well, she kurtköy escort seemed for all intents and purposes like my sister, damn it! Though it felt good, I still feel guilty. If she were to ask me to do it again, I would accept, but…Dad. Damn it. He would disown us. He wouldn’t see it for how wonderful it feels. God, it does feel good though. He’d see two incestual whores, who were so blinded by evil pleasure, that they didn’t care who they got it from. Damn him.
For the first time in my life, I hated my father. Deep down, I wanted the pleasure Tiffany could give me. But…Damn it!
“Jess, you okay?” It was a familiar voice. Tiffany’s voice.
“Who turned out the sun?”
“It’s past nine, silly-face. Dad says it’s time to turn in.”
I had not anticipated this, that I would have to face my sister in our room that night. I must have seemed awfully awkward (even for my standards), never making eye contact nor conversation. I looked up, and from my still clouded vision, I saw her.
Tiff was getting ready for bed as usual, but for the first time, I saw her as she was. Beautiful. The way that as her shirt was raised over her head, her perky breasts would spring about before settling nicely back into place…The manner in which she peeled her pants off of her legs, revealing the demure lace underneath, tightly clad to her pert ass.
“Jeez, take a picture, Jess.”
“So…Sorry,” I apologized, sinking further into my bed, not aware that I had been staring so openly. I wonder how long she had known I was watching; if had been putting on a show for me.
“It’s no big,” Tiff responded as she made a leap for her own bed. “I’ll assume…” she continued, quietly, “that you’re not in much a mood to talk tonight. I suppose I’m to blame for that.”
“Well, actually, I think I finally have my thoughts together,” I told her, as I began to recount all the internal turmoil I’d been struggling through ever since I left the bathroom.
“Wow,” was Tiff’s response, as she and I sat back, letting the silence punctuate my nearly half-hour rant on my feelings. “At least I know that you liked it.”
“I’m not sure I’m okay with liking it…Just yet anyway.”
Tiffany pondered this for a moment, eventually responding, “Well, I’ll give you some time to think about it. Night, Jess.”
“Oh, incidentally, whilst you’re deciding between your guilt and your pleasure, I’ll be having some of the latter. Night, again.”
What?! Was she serious? I nearly couldn’t believe my ears as they were cushioned with the familiar sound of flesh against moist, dripping flesh. The lights were out, but even the sound alone was enough to get me going.
Part of me was disgusted that she would dare masturbate, ten feet away from me, while I had another internal monologue. But, another part of me wondered…just how many times has she done this right here before? And…How many times have we done it at the same time, not knowing it?
My curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped out of my bed, onto the cool floor, the chilly wood exciting my nipples as I slid prone across the floor towards Tiffany’s bed. My arousal only grew, as I approached closer to the side of her bed. I could now hear each push and pull of her slender fingers as they caught her feminine juices.
I rose to a kneeling position, and was pleased to find, that even though the lights were off, I could still make out her sexy form. She was on her back, her left hand’s fingers busily fingering her, while the left thumb made vicious circles around her clit. Even I could not resist the temptation.
I slipped my hand down my panties, and attempted to match Tiff’s pace. She was going quite fast, and I could not help a stifled moan from escaping my pouting lips.
Her eyes slowly opened, not seeming at all surprised that I had joined her. She looked me over, from my left hand furiously fingering myself, to my right hand tweaking my nipples. She lingered on my face, now only inches from her own. Normally poised and clenched during this sort of thing, I had let my inhibitions go. I looked at my beautiful sister through heavily lidded eyes, breathing heavily through a now slacking jaw.
“Jess,” Tiffany said, pausing only her voice, “you got a real dirty look on your face.” She leaned in to kiss me, and I offered no resistance. I let her tongue lock and wrestle with mine. I detected a strange taste in her mouth, but it resembled no herb nor simple which I remembered. Then, it hit me. I left her alone in the bathroom. Is that her…no, me…both of us, that I’m tasting?
As I reasoned around the taste, Tiffany pulled me on top of her, still locked in our passionate kiss. I then felt the bones of her hand against mine, as we both continued to finger ourselves. Our kiss ended, and our eyes met, as we wordlessly decided to end the selfishness. Our hands slid past each other, and we began to finger each other.
While I had always enjoyed my own touch, Tiffany’s fingers seemed to be a world better. Seemingly less controlled, unpredictable. We both were trying to beat each other to orgasm, and yet we could not touch ourselves. Somehow, even giving Tiffany pleasure was getting me off too. It was like we had a mutual pussy, and we both were helping that one us to reach unknown heights of satisfaction.
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