Mosquito Bites

It was a Sunday morning. My parents had gone off to church, as they did every weekend. I had stopped attending a few years ago due to a chronic allergy to bullshit and I was enjoying some alone time, making my own offering on the altar of the porn gods, when I heard a timid knock at the door.

Shit.

I'd forgotten Joy was still home. She usually went to church with my parents but she had just returned from a Christian summer camp yesterday, where she had been working as a counselor for the last 4 weeks. She'd been really upset when she got home. Mom said she was just exhausted after a month looking after bratty teenagers and suggested that she have a lie-in this morning to recover.

I silently cursed my mother.

"Um," I hesitated, trying to think of an excuse to stop her coming in, but came up short. "Hold on..." I began, but the door had already clicked and was swinging open. I had grown complacent during her absence. Luckily the muscle memory from my recent teenage years kicked in. Quick as lightning, my hands did a rapid tuck, flip and alt-tab. In the instant it took Joy to poke her head into my room I was already staring blandly at a stupid time-sink game I ran permanently in the background for just such an occasion.

"What Joy?" I demanded, now mindlessly exploding rows of gems for no apparent reward or reason. Why do people play these things when there is perfectly good porn available?

"I'm bored," she sighed, "What are you playing?"

"A game. Don't you have something better to do today?"

"Can I play?" Before I could say no, Joy bounced up to me and, without any warning, leaped into my lap.

"Hey!" I yelped, hyper-conscious of the painful erection I was still sporting. That, and the very graphic video which was still running just beneath the thin skin of this pointless game.

"I know this one. I have it on my phone. I'm really good. Here, let me show you," she placed her hand over mine and began guiding it to click on different colored gems. She giggled, "Wow, you are really bad at this. You've been on this level for like an hour."

She began to animatedly give me notes on improving my gameplay. Like I gave a shit. All I could concentrate on was how her butt was rubbing up against my shaft as she squirmed during her battle with the pixels on my screen. It was definitely not helping my situation.

Joy had always been particularly innocent growing up, and her lack of awareness of my discomfort was rubbing me up the wrong way, literally. Or perhaps it was the right way. Either way, the situation was made a lot worse by the fact that we were both still in our pajamas.

At eighteen, Joy was still what, before this day, I might have called underdeveloped. From where I sat she had about as many curves on her as an arrow and a chest as flat as mine. The net result of this was that she never felt the pressure girls her age usually did to conceal or play down their womanly attributes. She dressed and behaved in the way she had since she was a kid. It would have been endearing if it wasn't so annoying.

The shorts she wore clung to her narrow ass like a second skin. I am pretty sure she had been wearing those same ones since she was about twelve. I was becoming increasingly aware that the only thing between my cock and her were two very flimsy layers of material. She had not even registered the hard shaft bumping against her as she jiggled.

Her top was even worse. It was a whisp-thin tank-top with no bra or padding. Her nipples stood out like buttons through the barely existent fabric. Hunched over my desk as she was, it hung off her chest and, if Icraned my head around just a little more, I would've been able to see...

"Get off, Joy!" I ordered suddenly, trying to slide her off my lap. Her ass was starting to feel incredibly good on my cock, and had I really just been about to sneak a peek down my sister's top?

"Just hold on," she narrowed her eyes at the screen, "Just one more..."

"Off!" I shoved her off my lap with excessive force. My rolling chair slid backward from beneath her and she landed hard on her flat ass.

Pissed, she spun her head from where she had been dumped and began spitting, "Alright, I was only playing. What's your prob-" then she came face to face with my problem: the bulging problem I was scrabbling in vain to cover up.

I deeply regretted shoving her off in that moment. Her already big, blue eyes widened to take up what seemed to be most of her face.

"Is that your..." she asked, apparently more curious than mortified.

I was feeling quite the reverse.

"Just get out, Joy!" I yelled.

"I'm sorry," she cringed back from my outburst, "I didn't know, okay. Was that from... you know?" She looked away self-consciously, color rising to her lightly freckled cheeks.

"No, Jesus. You're my sister," I gabbled, "And you're... you're..."

"What?" The color in her cheeks deepened and the expression on her face turned dark, "Too boyish? Too flat-chested?" She gestured towards her breasts or rather, the lack thereof. Her nipples were pointing back at me accusingly through her tank top.

Mentally I backpedaled. I was in a no-win situation here and I needed to find the way out with the fewest repercussions. "No, I, uh..."

Before I could finish whatever half-formed excuse my brain was desperately trying to concoct, I was shocked into silence. Joy was crying.

At least, her liquid eyes were on the verge of spilling over. What had I done? Was she offended? Was she going to tell mom?

"I wouldn't expect you to get it," her voice quavered.

Where the hell was this coming from?

"Get what, Joy? Christ. I was just relaxing in my room when you burst in here. What is it you wanted?" Her tears made me feel bad and feeling bad made me angrier at her for making me feel bad.

She pulled herself up on the desk and replied, in a wounded tone, "Maybe I was just looking for someone to be kind to me. After the shitty camp I had, just one person. It was my mistake to think that person might be my own brother."

I sighed tiredly and before I could think it through said, "Joy, sometimes bad shit happens. You don't have to go around making it other people's problem."

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. With the change in her expression, you would've thought I'd slapped her.

"Do you know what they called me at camp?" She shot back angrily. When I didn't reply she deflated, sniffed, and said, "Mosquito bites."

Her look of defeat hit me like a gut punch. I was a terrible brother. "I'm sorry, Joy. Those counselors can be real assholes. They're a tight-knit bunch. I know, I've been there." I didn't mention that when I had been a camp counselor, before I became a god-forsaken heathen, I'd been part of the group that made up the names for the others.

"No, not the counselors. The kids. They all called me names. I tried to rise above it. Turn the other cheek and all that. But it wore on me. Four weeks I had to put up with their snotty jibes. And even then I nearly made it." Clearly, this had been weighing on her. As she talked the story came out faster and faster, like she was exorcising herself of the ordeal. "You know, on the last night when they have camp awards?"

I nodded. I remembered. They always have a big ceremony and hand out dumb awards like, "cleanest bunk" and "best outdoorsman." We also used to make up a bunch of ones that we thought were hilarious at the time but now, looking back, were probably a form of sexual harassment, or at least some form of bullying.

"They called me up. Said they had a special award for me. They said all the kids at the camp had voted and decided I deserved it." I didn't ask her to continue, but she did anyway, "I went up. I thought maybe I was going to get some appreciation for all the shit they put me through. A "good sport" award or something. Do you know what they gave me?" She choked out the words. I shook my head, not meeting her tear-stung eyes, "A tube of mosquito repellant and a certificate for the worst case of mosquito bites they had ever seen."

"Fuck," I winced.

"I cried. I cried in front of the entire camp. Kids. Counselors. Everyone. And they just laughed, Vic. They all just fucking laughed."

I cringed in my chair. I could not ever remember Joy cussing like this before. I reached out a tentative hand but stopped just short of touching her. "It's okay, Joy. They're a bunch of idiots. I'm sure they didn't mean it."

"They did, and they were right. Most of the 12-year-olds there had bigger boobs than me."

"I'm sorry, Joy," I could not think of more to say. Hearing my sister talk about her boobs, watching her fighting her tears, my fucking erection which was still not going down, it was all making me very uncomfortable.

She dashed away the tears with one hand and appeared to regain some of her composure. "Is it true? I am so unattractive, Vic?"

"Joy..."

"It's okay, you know, about earlier," Her eyes darted down to where my hand still covered my still mostly-erect dick, "I don't mind, really. I've listened to the other girls. I know it happens to boys. Was it really just from me sitting there?"

"Joy..." My face burned, red hot. I had absolutely no idea how to get myself out of this hole.

"You can tell me, it's okay. If I'm a hundred percent honest, I'd take it as a compliment." The wide-eyed expression bordering on excitement was heartbreaking to see.

"Joy," I looked down and shook my head. I could either destroy my fragile sister or lie and tell her she'd given me wood. My no-win situation just got a little more unwinnable.

Something seemed to click for her then. Maybe my eyes had unconsciously darted to my monitor. Regardless, her face paled and she said, "Oh," then, glancing down at my computer, "Oh!"

"Joy," I tried to get up, but the damn chair kept sliding out from under me and she was already right there. A mouse click later and we were both staring at a screen crammed to bursting with bare flesh. Worst of all was that the scene I had been enjoying depicted two women of particularly generous proportions attending diligently to each other while, at the same time, they serviced a man of equally generous physical attributes.

Joy's face fell. She pushed off my desk and began robotically heading for the door.

"Joy," I called after her, "Christ, You're my sister. You can't seriously be mad at me for this?!"

"It's fine," she said, though it clearly wasn't.

"Joy, God Damn it," this whole situation was grossly unfair. It was not my job to make my sister feel better about her body. It was not my fault that my perfectly middle-of -the-road taste in porn was offensive to her.

"Joy!" I shouted after her, but she was already gone. I heard the door to her room slam. I swore under my breath. My eyes went back to the scene on the screen. For a moment I tilted my head as my male brain considered finishing off what I'd started, now that I finally had a moment to myself. Cursing myself for being such a caring brother, I angrily closed my browser down and stood up from my chair.

"Joy?" I called loudly while tapping softly at her door.

"Go away." I could hear the tears in her voice.

I swore again. I really did not want to get involved in this, but having a crying sister to explain to my parents when they go home would have been a lot worse. Especially if Joy gave them all the gory details. It would be a lot harder to get out of church in the future if that happened. So, I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Joy was on her bed, hunched over, crying into her hands.

"Leave me," she sobbed pathetically.

"I'm sorry, Joy," I sighed, "I don't know what I did wrong, but I am sorry." I really hoped that would be enough and I would be able to leave. It was not and I could not.

"Of course you don't know. You're just like every other guy. You're only interested in big asses and bigger boobs."

"That's not true (maybe it was a bit true). Wait... why am I defending myself to you? I didn't do anything wrong here."

But Joy had momentum now. She kept on talking as if I had said nothing, "The same thing that happens wherever I go. I become invisible. No one wants to even talk to a girl who still looks like she hasn't hit puberty."

"Joy, isn't this a conversation you should be having with mom?" I shifted uncomfortably. I desperately wanted to leave.

"I've tried, but she doesn't get it. She has boobs. She tells me that guys will notice me for my personality. But that's just bullshit."

"Um," I was surprised, I was not used to this sweary, emotional Joy who wanted to have adult conversations with me.

"It is bullshit. But, I'm not ugly, am I?" Her voice pleaded with me.

"Joy, I'm your brother. I honestly can't judge."

"Just look at me. What's wrong with me?"

I glanced at her and sighed, "Nothing, Joy."

"You're not just lying to make me go away? You'd tell me if I was repulsive, right?"

"Yes, Joy. I'm your brother. I would tell you if you were repulsive. Hell, I probably have told you exactly that once or twice when we were growing up."

"You did," She folded her arms across her meager chest.

"To be fair, you were a pimply, brace-face back then."

"You used to have a mullet." Her eyes narrowed, but at least her tears had stopped.

"It was ironic," I massaged my closed eyes. "Look, the point is you're not repulsive now. I don't know what problem the other campers had, but it has nothing to do with you. Okay?"

"Then look at me."

"I did."

"No, I mean actually look at me this time and tell me what makes me so forgettable." She stood up from the bed and held her arms out at her sides.

Reluctantly I raised my head and gave her another quick glance. "Nothing, you're fine, Joy."

"Look at me," she insisted.

"I am," I moaned back at her like a whiny child.

"Pretend I'm not your sister. Are you doing that?"

"Yes," I spoke through gritted teeth.

"Now, am I attractive? Do you think guys will find me pretty?"

Knowing now she would not let up, I conceded to look at her properly this time. I even did as she said and tried not to see her as my sister.

"Oh," I said, a little surprised.

"What?" She suddenly looked self-conscious, her hand reached across her middle to hold her other arm. She looked so vulnerable like that.

"Nothing," I shook my head, feeling a little heat in my cheeks. I can admit that for a moment, just a moment mind you, I saw how pretty my little sister was. Sure, she was skinny, with hardly any definition to her body, but if you took a moment to take it all in, she was beautiful. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, with wide blue eyes which, until today, always seemed to twinkle with a joke that only she understood. Her breasts were ripening little buds and her waist was so slender I could probably have encircled it with both my hands. Even her ass, which I had first thought flat, had a seductive little curve to it. "Shit," I thought, "Joy is fucking hot."

"Tell me," she ordered. She brought her hands up to cup the air in front of her barely existent breasts. "It's my mosquito bite boobs, isn't it? No guy wants a girl with such a flat chest."

"No," I blushed harder, "Those are, um, cute." Shit, what was I saying? She was infecting my brain. I'd have to watch what came out of my mouth.

"Really?" Her voice went up a couple of octaves.

"To some guys, sure. Not to me. You're my sister. But I don't think guys would have a problem with them. To be honest, most guys are only really interested in a nice face" I looked down at the floor, "And you have one." Silently I told myself to shut up.

"A face?"

"A nice face. I mean, you're my sister," I made sure to stress this point yet again, "But I can tell that you have the kind of face guys might find attractive."

"You're just saying that," her voice sank again.

"I'm not," I replied a little quicker than I intended. "Christ, I wish I wasn't," I added in my head.

"It's..."

"Nice?" She added helpfully.

"Yeah."

"And my tits?"

"Jesus! Joy?!" I threw up my arms in exasperation.

"Just be honest."

"They're also very nice," I jerked my head as I spoke, not once looking in her direction.

"You're not even looking at them."

"I've looked," I began, then realized my error. "I mean, I've..." Shit. I had nothing. I really needed to shut the fuck up.

"Will you look at them?"

"No way."

"Just give me an objective opinion."

I mouthed another curse word then, flicked my eyes in the direction of her chest before flicking them away again. "They're fine," I mumbled.

"No, I mean look at them." She emphasized the word "Look." It took me a while to understand until I saw her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her tank top out of the corner of my eye.

"Nope. No way!" I jumped up, "I can't do that! I don't believe in hell, but all the same, I have no intention of taking the risk, thank you very much."

"Come on," she stamped a dainty foot, "Thanks to you I already feel a million times better than when I woke up this morning. Can't you just give me a quick objective opinion? It won't cost you anything."

If only she knew.

"Besides," her expression turned sly as she added, "From what I saw earlier, you're somewhat of an expert on boobs."

"Well, I don't like to brag..." I thought then told my brain to shut the fuck up and insisted out loud, "I'm not looking at my sister's boobs!"

"Just a peek?" She queried, her hands tugging up her shirt to expose the tight muscles of her flat belly.

"Forget it, Joy," I insisted, but found my eyes remained fixed on her. I willed them to look away but they did not budge. Stupid eyes.

"Pretty please? They hardly count as boobs anyway, so it's technically not breaking any rules," The tank top was raised to reveal the pale white skin that was just the barest mound, barely discernible from the rest of her chest.

Frozen, I felt my mouth run dry. In the mixture of rising panic and elation, the words I needed failed to form. Slowly her top crept up, revealing more and more, until I found myself staring at her bare chest.

"I am definitely going to hell," I whispered.

Still, I could not tear my gaze away. Her areolae were silver-dollar-sized domes of pink perfection. You could hardly see her nipples, they were so delightfully cushioned by the marshmallowy richness of the surrounding flesh.

"I..." I tried to speak, but still, nothing came out.

"Not much to look at, I know," she looked down grimly at herself.

"No," I finally croaked out. Then, seeing her expression and sensing she had taken this the wrong way, I hurriedly explained: "I mean, yes! I mean they are seriously not that bad." She winced and my words came tumbling out before I could properly consider them, "Wait, it's like you said, I've seen a lot of boobs, in pictures mostly, but that still counts. And yours are really pretty." I couldn't tell her that she had probably just ruined big breasts for me. These little nubbins of delight were so perky and delectable they made me salivate. They made something else occur as well.

I heard Joy giggle. I tracked the path of her vision. My mind had been reeling and hadn't noticed what was happening until now. Suddenly I felt it and looked down. "Fuck!" I tried to cover it up but did a terrible job. My pajama shorts offered nothing in the way of concealment either. "It's nothing," I made to leave.

"Wait," I could hear the smile in Joy's voice.

"What?" I paused impatiently at the door.

"Is that for me?"

"No!" I sounded scandalized.

"Is it from me then? From these," she nodded down to her sweet bosom, "Not from the porn this time?"

"Jesus." I punched the door jamb, "It's nothing. Just a biological reaction. Just ignore it."

"I'm complimented, really."

"Joy."

"I mean it. If I can get this reaction from my own brother there might be hope for me yet, right?"