Ingrid (Act 1 of 2)

He allows himself to peer inside. It's sort of dark, but there is enough light through all the driftwood that he can see it looks more or less clean, sandy, probably crawling with fucking spiders. But okay.

"Okay, but to be clear, we aren't doing anything remotely sexual in there."

"If you say so, Bro."

"I know so, Sis."

"You coming, or what?"

"What the fuck. Yes, I'm coming."

Chapter Twenty-eight, Part Four of Two

"I just don't get why she didn't say something to me about it. I cuddled with her all night. She could have said something before she got out of bed. Or after. Or before she left."

"I don't know, Sis."

They are both laying on the gray sandy floor of the terrible shelter looking up through the driftwood at the drab sky, or else at the driftwood itself, because what else is there to look at.

"Why did she tell you but not me?"

"Sis, it's a mystery."

"Would you please quit saying 'Sis' this and 'Sis' that? I know you're talking to me."

He turns and looks at her. She's kind of angry with him all of a sudden.

"What crawled up your butt?" he asks her. He's got spiders on the brain.

"Yeah, what crawled up my butt? You've been a total dick ever since we left the city. What's wrong with you dude? Are you just bored with me now? Am I not motherly enough for you?"

"Jesus, Ingrid, will you cut it out with that? That's like the third time today you've--you've--"

"Pointed out the obvious?"

"Just what exactly is so obvious, here? What is it I'm missing about Mom finally letting me into your secret little incest club that has you so fucked up?"

"I--I--I don't know!" She suddenly sounds like she's about to cry. Will can't believe this. Weren't they just looking at nude pictures on her phone a couple hours ago? "Fuck. Just leave me alone."

"You're the one who wanted me to crawl in here with you."

"I wanted us to hang out and, like, have a moment."

"But so a moment means listening to you go on about how Mom doesn't love you anymore?"

"Will."

"Or is a moment supposed to be you calling me out for calling you 'Sis'? Or asking me if I'm depressed all of a sudden? Or telling me I'm 'being like this' because I don't want to crawl into a fucking spider's nest in the middle of nowhere with you? I should be the one telling you to leave me alone."

"Will, I'm asking nicely. Please, let's--"

"Or is a moment supposed to be you secretly taking advantage of me because you know I have a hideous crush on you, and then tricking me into taking acid so that you can seduce me, and then--while I'm still high--coming out to me about how actually you've been fucking Mom this whole time, and THEN bringing me into some sort of shitty love triangle with the two of you that honestly, honestly, I still don't even know how--like I don't even understand how--or like why the fuck--hey--what are you--?"

Ingrid rolls over and crawls backwards out of the shelter. For a minute, a good minute, Will just lays there looking out through the door after she leaves. He just stares out at the waves. Their noise reminds him of passing traffic. They're almost black, they're so blue.

Then he notices a pale moist-looking spider on his arm and flips the fuck out.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Will wakes up to a surge of sunshine in his eyelids. He is in his boring spartan bed. He rolls over, checks his phone. It's early enough that if he got up now he could say he got up at a reasonable hour. He rolls over, stays awake for a minute thinking about that driftwood shelter, those waves, and nods off again.

The next time he wakes up, it's early afternoon. He stays in his bed. He grabs his phone and looks at old texts. He reaches out to some friends he hasn't said hey to in a while. He gets like this sometimes. To where he feels a little forgotten.

The next time he wakes up, Ingrid is looking at him. She's sitting on the edge of the bed just looking at him. He reaches out to touch her legs, but his arm doesn't reach out how he tells it to. It goes some other direction. When he looks that direction he falls back asleep.

The next time he wakes up it's almost supper time. His stomach is upset. He stands up, dry-mouthed and queasy. He shuffles to the kitchen and eats deli meat straight out of the package. He drinks a whole glass of tap water. He drinks half another. He stands there eating deli meat and looking out at the front room through a little window between the kitchen and the front room.

Some neighbor has wind chimes on their balcony. Will had thought he'd hate them when he first moved in. Now he realizes that if that neighbor ever moves away, he is going to have to go out and buy his own set of wind chimes.

On his way back to bed, Will happens to glance into Ingrid's room. She never shuts her door, the goddamn exhibitionist. She's at Will's computer. Sitting there in panties and a cami. She's found his over-ear cans. They look enormous on her little head. He wonders what she's doing. He goes back to bed.

Chapter Thirty

"Hey. Wake up."

"Nnnn."

"Wake up, dickhead. I need to tell you something."

"Nnnnwhat?"

"First of all, I ordered Chinese. Do you want me to make you a plate or something?"

"Nnnn."

"You need to eat today."

"I ate."

"Really? When? Okay."

"..."

"Second of all, I listened to your music."

Will exhumes his face from his pillow.

"You did what?"

"I found your music on your computer. I listened to it. Is that okay? It's not like you hid it."

"Shit." He rolls onto his side and looks at her. She's inscrutable right now. It's also kind of dark in here, and the light from the hallway is kind of blinding him from behind her.

"Will."

"What?"

"Your music made me cry."

"It--what? How come?"

"Can I lay down?"

Will scooches a little, opens up the covers. A smell wafts out. Ingrid crawls under with him.

She puts a leg around his waist and pulls him and her together. He forks his leg through hers. She drapes an arm over his neck. She moves her hair out of her and her brother's face, grabs it and sort of lays it out behind her. This is nice. This is a nice way to hug.

She's crying again, kind of. But quietly, calmly.

"It's really good, Will."

"You liked it?"

"It doesn't matter if I liked it. It's good."

"You're the first person to ever hear it. I mean, other than me."

"I am?" she makes a confused, almost angry face. "What the fuck? You have tons of music on there."

"Well yeah. Shit."

"Why? Will," she grabs the sides of his head. Here we go again with the head grabbing. "You need to explain to me why you are like this."

"Because it's still shit, Sis--Inge. Did you hear the lyrics? Did you actually catch those?"

"'I love like a dog loves chocolate.'"

"Eesh. Please. Not directly at me."

"Your lyrics are fine, Bro. Maybe, okay, maybe not your strong suit. But you deliver them really well. You can tell that you're really feeling what you're saying. And your hooks are catchy, man."

"Here we go. Here comes the bullshit."

"I'm being nothing but honest. You are gifted. You make real music. And this whole time I didn't even know! How many more secrets am I going to have to drag out of you before there's just nothing but you left?"

"'Nothing but me left?' Yikes, I think my shitty lyrics must have rubbed off on you, Sis."

"Quit calling me Sis."

"Sis. Sis. Sis. You're my sister! It's what I call you!"

"I--I don't like how you've been saying it."

"What? Like how I literally pronounce the word? Or what do you want me to--"

"Not again, Will, please, let's not. Please. Mercy."

"Right. Whatever."

"You're not good at being the mean one in this relationship."

"Right."

"I mean, you're terrifically mean. But you're bad at it. There's an art to it, you know? And obviously I don't suck at it enough to have taught you anything."

"Ha." Another quote of his. She's really on one today.

"Can we just be okay?" she asks him. He can't see her very well in this light. He can smell her better than he can see her. Garlic and oyster sauce and, sniff-sniff, eucalyptus. Maybe he is hungry after all.

"Are we not okay?"

Ingrid makes a little noise in her sinuses, like she's letting out a breath she's been holding in.

"I don't know," she answers.

"To be honest, Sis--may I please just call you Sis? It's what I call you."

"Okay."

"Thank you. To be honest, I am a little worried that maybe you're the depressed one."

She doesn't reply. She just maybe gives him a look. He can't tell for sure what look, or if she's even giving him one.

"Does that ... resonate with you at all, Sis?"

"Will, you've been in bed ever since we got back. I basically haven't seen you since we got home from the beach. Really, I feel like I haven't seen you since the smoothie place."

"Yeah. Okay. Granted." He does feel a little called out, but okay. "But this is just ... the real Will, I guess? This is who I am when you're not around. Hello. My name is Will. I stay in bed some days."

"You realize that's not a--pbbft"--she spits an orphaned strand of Will's hair out of her mouth--"that's not like a healthy thing to do, you know that, right? Staying in bed all day is not how healthy people act. It's how unhappy people act. Quit telling me--quit telling yourself--you're fine. And don't try to spin this back on me like I'm the depressed one. If I was the depressed one I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be lying in my bed, not eating, not talking, and trying to sleep the day away."

"I feel fine."

"I don't care if you feel fine, idiot. I had this friend with asthma growing up. Tiffany, do you remember her?"

"The weird one? With the glasses?"

"That's her. You maybe don't remember but Tiffany had asthma really bad. And one time she went to the hospital for it because it had gotten to where she wasn't even really breathing much more than these tiny little sips of air, but she had gotten used to it. She didn't realize she wasn't breathing hardly at all. But then at recess one day she just fell over. And they had to take her to the hospital. And she almost died."

"I remember hearing about that. Did she not carry an inhaler or whatever?"

"I don't remember. I think so? But it wasn't enough obviously. She still almost died."

"Asthma, huh?" Will and Ingrid's crotches are basically interlocked right now, but he doesn't feel any kind of urges at the moment. He just likes the warmth and snugness. "So you're saying I have asthma."

"I'm saying maybe it's the case that you can't even tell if you're breathing enough or not. But as your sister, I am telling you straight-up: you haven't been acting right. Not since I got back. And especially since the hotel. Something is off."

"Well, I fucked Mom."

"Yeah..." Ingrid shifts a little uncomfortably. "Is that... are you okay?"

"I think so, yeah. I mean, make no mistake, I loved it. I really loved it. She's incredible."

"... But? I feel like there's a 'but.'"

"But she's our mom." Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Will had not expected this particular blob to come floating out of that particular compartment.

"She's our mom," Ingrid echoes.

"And I fucked her, Sis. I let her suck--she sucked my cock. And I mean like, have you seen how Mom sucks cock? She's a fucking animal!"

Ingrid feels Will getting hard but doesn't think much of it. Will feels it, too, and he hates himself for it.

"I don't know what to make of my life, Inge. All of a sudden, I just don't know what to make of it. Here I was just lonely, and bored, and--and just going to and from work and ... Then you came back. And Mom came back. And now we're just ... we're moving in together? And we are just going to have sex with each other? Mom used to rub my stomach and read me Shel Silverstein when I was sick. And yesterday morning she and I came into each other's mouths simultaneously!"

"I guess ... it all happened pretty fast. I'm sorry, Bro."

"Ingrid, in two days, I have: licked my own cum off of your sweaty foot," he starts tallying on his fingers, "I have cum inside Mom's throat twice, I have fucked Mom twice, I have fucked you in your ass, I of course came in your ass and then ate that cum, I have eaten Mom's pussy twice--God, just hearing those words, it takes me a second to process them as true. I have eaten Mom's pussy. No, no, I have not just eaten Mom's pussy, I have savored Mom's pussy. Mom is somehow the tastiest pussy I have ever had. And anyway. Yeah. All of that in two days. Am I missing anything? I feel like I'm still missing something."

"Those handjobs you gave each other were pretty intense."

"Oh right, yep. I picked Mom up like a bowling ball and she made me cum all over a TV screen."

"And I ... sort of sucked your cock once or twice."

"Jesus. Inge. You really did."

"You can call me Sis if you want."

"Sis. I ... I don't know if I'm depressed. I really don't think I am. But I do think something may be wrong. I don't know what to call it. I don't know if I even want it to stop. But I will grant you that something may be wrong."

"Okay," she says. And that's all she says. She might sort of be crying, he can't tell.

"Sis?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

He still can't see her all that well. His eyes are starting to adjust, but only just.

"Will, I actually--" yes, she is for sure crying, just trying to hide it for some reason, "--I don't think I'm okay either."

"Fuck. Sis. What's wrong?"

"I think ... I think ..." She takes in an ugly, heartbreaking breath. "I don't know."

"Sis," he says, and hugs her close. Neither of them can help sort of grinding as they hug. It just feels comforting. Well, okay, better than comforting. And each of them feels better by virtue of making the other feel good. Ingrid even makes a little noise.

Will's heart soars. But quietly. His emotions are kind of all over the place right now.

"I didn't like how you treated me yesterday on the beach," she whispers as she kisses him on the forehead. Her cheeks leave little wet spots on either side of the wet spot of her kiss.

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't know why I was having such a bad time."

"I don't know either! We were having a nice walk!"

"You were having a nice walk. You and those shells," he snickers sadly. Ingrid snickers too. They hump a little harder for a second, each of them making an aggressive, horny, not very gloomy face as they press themselves into their sibling. Sister's soft pussy, brother's hard cock, it just feels intrinsically nice to mash these together. No one's looking, no one cares. And it feels really pretty excellent.

"I washed them out earlier. The shells. They're drying in the kitchen. I think I want to make something with them."

"Really? Like what? A necklace or something?"

"No, I don't know. Art or something."

"Huh," he says, and starts to breathe in rhythm with his sister.

"I found a little snail inside one of them."

"Aw, really? That's kind of cute."

"I killed it."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. What are we going to do with a snail? I felt bad for it. I poured salt on it."

"You felt bad for it, so you murdered it?"

"It's not like I enjoyed it! It was really sad!"

"You're a monster, Ingrid."

"Call me Sis."

"You're a monster, Sis."

"I'm a monster," she says, and bites his nose.

"Do you want just take these clothes off?"

"I do," she sort of hiccup-giggles. She isn't quite done crying, but she is feeling ... different than sad.

"Are we--?" he asks as he slips his underwear down off his feet and tosses them out from under the covers onto the floor. He leaves his t-shirt on.

"I think we kind of have to," she breathes, getting her own panties off under the covers. She brings them up to their faces. "You want?" she asks. She presses them to his face. Will takes a great big sniff. Then Ingrid takes a sniff too.

"Fuck," he exhales.

"Yeah, sorry," she laughs. "I smell. Sorry."

"No, Sis, I'm the one who must apologize. Because now I must ask you to please flip around and let me eat your pussy. I require tasty bits."

"Bro, you sure you want to touch your little sister's pussy?"

"I am going to spin you around myself if you don't. And I will not be gentle."

"Okay," she shivers out a little laugh. "But I'm going to need you to shove your cock down my throat while you eat me out, is that alright?"

"My apologies if I cum immediately."

"It's okay," she plants a nervous kiss on his lips, nibbles them a bit. "Bro," she says, "I love you."

Will suddenly feels like he has sprouted plushy fluff all over his body, straight up through his pores, like he has just magically turned into a giant man-sized teddy bear. He hugs her and kisses his horny, sad little sister, and she grunt-laughs in his face.

"I love you," she says again, and smooches him on the cheek.

"I love you, too," he tells her, and nibbles her ear lobe.

Both of them giggle like idiots.

"I just--wanted to say it before we sixty-nined in your bed."

"You're a good little sister."

"I know it."

"Now give me your fucking pussy."

Ingrid does a sort of relay swimmer's motion in Wills' bed, spinning about-face on her side and then kicking off the headboard to get herself face-first down under the covers. They both stay laying on their sides. Will grabs his little sister by the ass-cheeks and--pausing only long enough to savor the reality of what he was about to do--mashes his mouth and nose into her tasty bits. He smells the smell he's always wanted to smell. He smells it very up-close.

He touches his nose to her clitoral hood and inhales. There it is, that knock-out smell that sort of shocks the brain every time someone who loves pussy has to reckon with that this is what he craves. He parts his little sister's labia with his fingertips and inhales again before he licks. That smell again, but hotter, steamier, like lifting the lid on a stew that drew him into the kitchen from another room. Her labia are cute and smooth and supremely soft. She must have shaved just today. He spots a creamy little trail of something dribbling along the outside crease of her right--or is this her left--lip and he licks it clean without hesitating. Ingrid apparently likes that.

Her pussy tonight tastes fruity and salty and--what's this?

Weirdly, Ingrid's pussy also tastes like what she ate for dinner. The darkly tangy notes of soy sauce are unmistakable. It's scrumptious.

Other winsome flavors are here, too, and now Will has a newfound appreciation for his sister's body's similarities to Mom's. They both emanate a bitter hoppy aroma that on first sniff is a little alarming, but on subsequent visits reveals tantalizing depth. They both share an electric citrusy sweetness that makes the act of sipping on their clits or lapping at their lips that much more addictive and self-perpetuating.

Oh God, he wonders how much the women might be into the idea of laying right on top of each other, belly to belly, so that their son might lick all the way from one delicious asshole, up the sweet pink lengths of both of them, to the other.