Nazanin

I had no choice but to plant a hand between her legs as I leaned forward and started scratching all over the upright thigh she was resting her elbow on.

"NO!" she snarled, barely staying composed, her hand's tendons bulging, her thigh muscles hardening, her butt muscles clenching. "Don't just start scratching ALL of them you DINGUS."

There were bug bites everywhere.

"Which one's itching?!" I needed to know.

"UP!" she barked.

I moved my hand up higher toward her knee.

"NONONO," she winced, suddenly whispering, "UP, as in up my leg, you dingus."

"O-oh," my heart ker-flopped in my chest. My cock, however-

I traced my fingers up my sister's warm, bare leg, down toward my bedding, watching her gaze for a signal to stop as I drew dangerously near to her yoga shorts.

Along the way, there was a connect-the-dots of variously itchy-looking bug bites. I tried moving quickly, purposefully, as I paused at each one. But none of these was the one. Her eyes were starting to water with bitter frustration.

"Oh my GOD," she whined, "it's IN my SHORTS, alright? For fuck's sake, REACH IN THERE AND GET IT OR I WILL DO IT MYSEL, AND THEN BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH YOUR OWN USELESS. FUCKING. HANDS."

"AHhm," I gulped hard, loud, still somehow paralyzed.

"LEO."

"All-right!" I dug my hand up into the tight stretchy fabric. It was hot inside, her skin mind-alteringly soft. I felt a spot raised itchy skin half in and out the leg hole of her panties, and saw her face twitch with spasmodic urgency: I dug my nails in and scratched both outside and inside her underwear.

"AWWGHH-ohhh-ho-ho," she roared, groaned, whimpered, her voice fluttering up and down.

I kept scratching the itchy junction of her pelvis and thigh, my eyes wide with disbelief at where my hand was inside her shorts and underwear, but glancing up constantly for a sign that I should stop. She did not give me this sign, even when she'd grown mostly quiet.

At one point, and I wasn't sure if she was aware she was doing this, but Naz even sort of humped her pussy toward my fingers as I scratched at the skin nearby. So sweet must this release have been for her, I guessed.

"Okay, okay," she finally sighed. "Thank you for that. Sorry I made you touch my pussy."

"I-I didn't—" I jerked my hand out of her pants like it'd been bitten.

"You did."

I chose to ignore this remark. And the urge to sniff my fingers right in front of her.

I remembered to praise my sister for her commitment to composure after I'd returned to my seat and rediscovered my sense of authority and calm. Boy was I also glad for the sketchpad covering my lap. Naz now bore a permanent smirk as I drew. I blurred my eyes to whatever this wanted to mean, confined it instead to art and abstraction.

I brought my pencil to my lips from time to time, and surreptitiously smelled my fingertips. I hadn't touched her pussy had I? All I could pick up was her usual salty body odor stuck underneath my nails.

When I'd finally finished, I clapped my sketchpad shut.

"What?" Naz looked confused.

"I'm done," I told her.

"Really? That fast?"

"That ... wasn't fast." An hour had gone by. I'd taken my sweet, horrible, inappropriate time.

"Well?! Can I see it?"

"Uhh," I hesitated.

Damn it. It wouldn't be any use trying to hide it from her. Especially while we were stuck in the camper together.

"Yeah." I handed her the sketchpad. "Of course." I hoped she wouldn't freak out. I was pretty sure she was going to freak out.

She flipped through the first several pages of abstract practice drawings until she found it. The obscenely lovely way I saw her, committed now to paper.

"Holy ... shit," it sort of knocked the wind out of her. "Is this how you SEE me?"

I stayed silent, paralyzed.

She held up the pad as if I didn't know what I had just drawn, and pointed at the figure on the page.

"Wh-what?"

"Dingus," was all she said. She laughed at the drawing. She shook her head at it. "I don't know who this is supposed to be, Leo, but damn. I would eat her up."

"Y-you're-" I wasn't sure if Naz was teasing me as hard as I felt like she was teasing me. "C-come on. It's really hard to draw someone you know."

"Brooo," she cooed. "I mean, it sort of looks like me, I guess? But like-!" She looked down incredulously at her own real-life physique, and then up at me with the same incredulity.

"What?" I slumped helplessly. "Just tell me. What do you actually think?"

"What I think!" she cackled, and wiped an honest to goodness tear from her eye. "I love it, Bro. I mean come on. I look so hot. But," then she gave me the most patronizing smile I think I'd ever had the displeasure of receiving, "then I remember that my little brother drew this and ..."

"Oh," I blushed even harder, almost angry now. "D-don't put that on me."

"Put what?" she cooed, ramping up the condescension. "It's cuuute that you think your big sissy's such a hottie!"

"I don't!" I could hear myself age-regressing for lack of a proper comeback. "I just-I tried to draw-I just drew what I saw!"

"Yes, and you saw your sexy, sensuous, perfectly edible sister," Naz said as she rose up onto her knees on the pullout, slid her hands up her body, over her breasts, until she had reached up with both arms like a goddamn model and unclipped her hair. She chomped the big clip at me as she made a playful snarling sound, then chucked the clip into my lap, and shook her wild hair free.

I rolled my eyes-somewhat forcibly, against considerable forces of attraction. "It's not my fault if you decide to wear, you know...?" I pointed to the pornographic shapes inside her yoga shorts, maybe a little too accusingly.

"These old things?" She looked down admiringly at her own sleak pelvis, twisted at the hips to see how her ass looked. "But they're comfy."

She let me look at her as she fussed performatively with her hair. Then she ran her hands over her breasts, down her abdomen, onto her hips, and further down still until her fingers met inside her crotch. She massaged at her bug bite through the spandex. She bit her lip as she did this.

"Naz, stop," I mustered. "I get it."

Naz stood up off the bed and sauntered over to me. She slid a knee onto the lawn chair, between my legs. She handed me the sketchpad.

"It's a good drawing, Bro," she smiled strangely. "Wish I could draw like that."

"Th-thanks-" I struggled to say.

"That way," she bent over until she was in kissing range, "I could show you how sexy you are to me, too!"

And she grabbed me by my ears and smooched me noisily on the lips.

Afterward, she pulled back, but still held by the cheek, and from just inches away studied my face. With her other hand she pushed her nails through my hair, dragged them exquisitely around the side of my head, then gently held the back of my head as she continued to do little scritching things back there.

The little brother I ought to have been in this moment should have reeled in discomfort. Instead, the little brother I was melted straight into it. I gaped like a doofus. She'd said I was sexy.

"Hey," she said quietly. "I'm really not trying to fuck with you. Okay? Do you want me to put some pants on or something?"

"Y-you're not-. I don't think you're fucking with me. I-you can wear-" I blinked, unable to bear such close, smooch-prone scrutiny. I could smell her oatmeal and coffee breath. "-whatever makes you feel comfortable? I don't care."

"Oh!" She let go of me, pulled her knee off my seat, and stood fully upright. "Well, in that case!"

She grasped the dangling hem of her t-shirt, lifted it all the way up past just-joking territory, first past the smiling creases of her underboobs, then past the dark brown bottoms of her areolas-

"Naz-!" I blurted, somehow. I'd had to make some sort of noise.

Naz beamed down at me through the window of her elbows and guffawed. She dropped her shirt back into place.

"Okay," she pinched my cheek, "that time I was fucking with you."

My big sister then went and locked herself in the bathroom.

Knowing I could be done in an instant, and that a dish towel was in arm's reach, I whipped my desperate, drooling cock out and started jerking off right there in the lawn chair. Achieving orgasm took comically little effort. I can normally cum silently, but this one summoned an accidental, eyes-closed whimper from me. The ensuing miles-long comedown was gut-wrenching, necessary, sane-making.

But I'd been messier than planned. I had of course anticipated a serious eruption after spending the better part of an hour staring deep into my sister's endlessly drawable shapes. But at the moment of climax, as I raised up unconsciously in my seat, made that noise I made, I felt only a stream-like rush of cum babble out onto my fist. I took this to mean that the rest of the orgasm would also be a similarly tidy, low PSI affair. I let my guard all the way down, surrendered to the waves of grace shivering through me.

No sooner had I lowered the hand I'd raised to shield myself than I was blasted by voluminous, gooey jets of white spunk. The damage was not subtle. I had jizz up the full length of my shirt.

I heard the toilet flush. Panic shimmied up my spine. My big sister could not find me like this. I would never, ever, EVER hear the end of it.

I had no choice. I stripped off my shirt. I hastily wiped my hand and pelvis clean with it, and tossed it into the shadows beneath the pullout just as Naz stepped out of the bathroom. If she saw me stuffing my cock back into my shorts, she didn't let on.

"Now wait a minute," Naz scoffed. "So it's okay if you take YOUR shirt off, but when I do it, it's a crime?"

"I was hot," I lied. We had the A/C cranking.

"Oh, I bet you were," she smirked. She strutted up to her bedroom. "But I'm definitely not putting pants on now."

She slipped back under the covers of her bed, and disappeared into her phone. She even put her headphones on, leaving me alone and topless, peering at her, wanting somehow to achieve a better, less embarrassing kind of closure.

I gravitated toward the privacy of the bathroom. Why not take a shower. This turned out to be a good idea. The shower soothed me.

I came back out and got dressed under my towel. I shoved my foldout bed up into a bench again. I scooped up my cum-smelling shirt off the floor and secreted it into the bottom of my luggage. How were we going to deal with laundry on this trip?

I grabbed a cold root beer from the fridge, sat at the table, and drew for a while.

It was tricky getting back off the ground, creatively. I kept flipping back to my embarrassingly hot drawing of Naz.

It was a good picture. Too good, maybe. This sometimes happened with sketchpads. One great drawing, partway through, stole the thunder of all the others.

I flipped back further still to my earlier drawings.

I'd been roving, stylistically. Some drawings were little more than cubist experiments. Others were basic still-life exercises, snapshots of the interior of the camper. I flipped all the way back to the one Naz had pointed out earlier, the hazy sketch of that shadowy, dreamlike figure, with his one wagging finger-.

Missing?

I flipped back a page. I flipped forward a page. The finger-wagging guy was missing.

I may have reacted a little hastily to this. I marched straight to the foot of Naz's stairs. I could see her lying curled up, buried in her phone, could discern a little bit of movement going on under the covers, so I knew she was awake. I rapped on one of the cupboards in that short hallway. I glared at the fake wood grain, waiting, in case my sister wasn't decent.

"W-what's up?" I heard her croak awkwardly, almost hiccupping. I heard the clunk and clatter of her headphones tumbling out of her grip onto the floor beside the bed.

"You decent?" I asked, letting her hear how miffed I was.

I heard shuffling, and mattress springs creaking, and then her voice was right there next to me.

"I am now, dick. What's up?"

"Hey, so, by any chance, did you happen to ..." I hadn't quite planned out how I was going to broach this accusation. I simply knew my rights. Everyone understood that I was weird about my sketchpads. They were basically my diaries.

"Leooo, what?" Naz groaned. She scratched an itch on her upper lip, just below her nostrils.

"That drawing you liked so much-"

My sister perked up a bit.

"The one with the guy wagging his finger-"

My sister deflated a bit.

"Listen," I pressed my fist quietly against the cupboard door, steeling myself. "Did you take it?"

"Did I take ... the drawing?"

"Yes," I pointed back to the table where I'd left my sketchbook. "It's not there."

Naz looked at me uncertainly. Then she saw the outrage in my face, and her confused forehead muscles turned into annoyed forehead muscles.

"Okay, I didn't take your creepy drawing," she waved me off, and disappeared back onto her bed.

"Sis, what-seriously?-" I climbed up a step.

"HEY, unless you're coming up here to apologize for accusing me of theft," she glared at her phone, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave me the fuck alone." She fiddled with her headphones, untangling the coily cord and getting them back into their wearable shape.

"Listen! I'm not here to accuse you of shit!" I threw up my hands as if this made sense. "Like, obviously I didn't take it, so you did. Can both just admit how obvious this is? Like why are you making this into a thing?"

"I'm being. Nice." Naz glared at me. Looking up from her phone when she was already angry with me meant I had pushed her to her limits. "Don't make me be not nice."

"For REAL?" I groaned in frustration. "FINE," I laughed. "Fine."

I stepped back down into the hallway. I turned and scowled at the table where I'd left my sketchpad. It was open to the place where the drawing should be.

"Leo?" she called to me.

I turned and glared at her. At this angle I had a direct line of sight up into her shirt. My glare faltered. The lovely lazy shapes inside her shirt sort of threw me.

"I really didn't take it," she said simply. Then she put her headphones back on.

"R-right," I shrugged, and walked away.

I couldn't sit back down. I glared at my sketchpad. I glared at my erection. I opened back up to the drawing of Naz.

Sigh.

I flipped back to the earlier drawings again, wondering if I was losing my mind. A couple of the pages sort of stuck together near the front. I pried them apart.

"Shit," I laughed, and slapped my forehead. "I am losing my mind!"

"You find it?" Naz asked from just a few yards away on her bed.

"Yeahhh," I groaned, embarrassed. The creepy figure wagged its finger at me.

"Was it in your sketchbook?"

"Yes," I sighed. "Sorry."

"Neat," was all she said.

I let relief come over me.

"Hey," I went back to Naz's bedroom, suddenly feeling right with the world again.

Naz gave me a wary look, faintly irritated, and pulled her headphones off one ear.

"Would it be weird if I took a nap right now?"

"You do you," she arched an eyebrow. "But I was thinking of hitting the road in like an hour. You want me to wake you up then?"

I nodded.

"As you were," I smirked, and sort of dance-walked away. I couldn't have told you why I was feeling so good all of a sudden.

I slammed the rest of my root beer, burped a tasty burp, and then went and laid down on the bench I'd just remade. My pillow from home was starting to smell like the camper.

Chapter 9

Now here's something weird. Naz climbed onto my back in the middle of my nap.

This woke me up, obviously.

She didn't ask first, or even say anything before she did it. She was simply already laid out on top of me when I woke up.

"Hmngh," I grunted into my pillow.

She had lined up her body, part for part, on top of me. Her nose pressed against the back of my skull. What little I might have been able to see out of the corner of my eye was veiled by greasy, stringy hair.

Granted, this wasn't the worst way to be woken up. Yet when I tried to convey my amusement, my voice was just more fluff inside my pillow. If Naz heard, she made no hint of a response.

I felt her cold hands, palm down, hold still on the backs of my hands. I felt her chest on my shoulder blades. I felt the bony pelvis that I had been staring at so intently this morning now angling into my ass.

"Is it time to get up?" I muffled into the stuffing of my pillow. I admit I was having a little trouble breathing.

Once again, if my sister noticed that I'd uttered something, or that I might be suffocating, she made no indication. That is, unless what she did next was her reply.

It started at the hands. Her clammy fingers curled claw-like against the backs of mine, so that mine too curled, and in this way we sort of pawed at the bench cushion together.

Then her chest rose off my shoulders, and hung there above me. This repositioned more of her weight onto her hands and lower body. Onto my hands and lower body.

She then quietly, serenely, but intently began to hump me. Her bony shapes ground into the soft, relaxed muscles of my ass almost as if she were trying to take me from behind.

I had been hard from the word go, of course. But my cock remained trapped at an uncomfortable angle between my hip and the firm cushion of the pullout. I needed to lift to try unpin it, but I wasn't sure Naz knew I was "awake" yet. What if I startled her?

I also wouldn't have minded a fresh dose of oxygen. But was oxygen preferable to letting my sister have her way with me?

I laid there, feeling her grinding onto me, not sure what the answer was.

Naz picked up speed. Her utterly surprising and now deeply horny movements threatened to bring me to such a point of lunacy that I almost began to let myself hump my ass backwards into them.

But no sooner had I thought this than I felt my sister's cock harden against my ass. She lowered her mouth to my ear. She murmured into the opening of my ear canal.

"Heyyy big B, so... Guess I just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday and whatnot. I guess you're, what, 19? Shiiit, man. Weird. You can't drink yet, but you can still have sex on camera for money. I say go for it, Bro! Get rich! Not that I know what porn is, of course. Since my 18th isn't for a few more months. But. Um. Anyway. They're only letting me have my phone for the next hour, so I'm going to go, um, not look at porn. Love you, Bro. Happy birthday."

I played the message a second time. Jules had snuck it in there like it wasn't a big deal, but it was a big deal, then as much as now. He'd said "Love you, Bro." I knew I should feel good about it, too, which is maybe why I kept listening. But each time, nope, I felt miserable about it. I played the message a third time.

"Hey," Naz put a hand on my shoulder. "Time to get up."

I startled awake. I peered out from my pillow, at the blinding sunny camper. Naz was standing there, backlit, watching me to make sure I was actually getting up.

"Bad dream?"

"I don't know," I grumbled. I rolled partway over and, as covertly as I could, fixed my boner. I stretched out on the bench. "Feels like I barely slept." I picked a crumb of sleep out of my eye. I smeared it onto the upholstery. I sort of clawed at the cushion as I did this.