Pressing Matters with Sister

Mom was waiting there for us, hands on her hips, in standard mom position. The rest of the family had already scattered. The kitchen was so tiny, it made our mother look like a giant. Even more imposing than usual.

"You two are up to something," Mom said. Her voice was not kind.

The sink was running behind her, stacked to the brim with dishes. A reminder of yet another indignity we'd had to endure with the new house: it didn't even have a dishwasher.

"We're hanging out," I said, shrinking under my mom's pointed interrogation.

Mom shook her head. "It's more than that. I see you two sneaking off at all hours. Always in Lucy's room with the door shut. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Nothing," Lucy said, "Like Dylan told you, we're just hanging out. Playing games. You know."

Mom's glare deepened, like Jan's had done. Her eyes narrowed, a mirror of Lindsay's from earlier.

"You're up to something," she said, "And I don't like it. Your father and I, this family, we're all going through a lot right now. It's bad enough as is and if you two make it worse, even the tiniest, littlest bit..."

"We're not," Lucy said, "We won't. I promise."

Mom's look didn't soften, but she let out a deep breath. "Fine," she said. She waved us out of the kitchen. "You're both old enough that you don't have to live with us anymore. So, I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"Of course," Lucy said.

"Understood," I said.

We escaped back to Lucy's bedroom. That night's session felt strained and anxious. Rushed and unfulfilling. But we still did it.

And that was the larger issue. For all those close calls, for all the very real consequences that came with them, we never stopped what we were doing. We didn't step back or rethink our actions. You'd think that with everything that had gone on, with every warning sign we'd passed, that we'd learn our lesson.

Instead, we escalated.

*

"You ever think about stuff?" Lucy asked, "You know, when we're doing this?"

We were both post-peak, lying back like bomb victims on Lucy's hardwood floor. It was surprisingly comfortable after a good, hard cum.

"You mean, like, other people?" I asked.

"Yes," Lucy said, "I mean, you're not focusing on how you're making it with my bedroom floor, are you?"

"Of course not," I said.

"You picture anyone specific?" Lucy asked.

"Nah," I said, "It's kind of random. Just 'a girl,' you know?"

My older sister rolled onto her side, giving me a dubious look.

But I recognized a no-win situation when I saw one. If I said I thought about Lucy, I was an incest-obsessed pervert. But if I said some other girl, then I risked hurting my older sister's feelings. So, I turned to my only defense, and turned the question back to Lucy.

"What about you?" I asked, "You ever think about anyone?"

"Not really," Lucy said in a mocking voice, "Just, you know, 'a boy.'"

There was a heavy pause. Each of us waited for the other to crack under the weight of it.

"Come on," Lucy said.

"You started it," I replied. Oh, so very mature.

"Fine," Lucy said, with an exasperated sigh. "There is this one guy at school. He's kinda tall with dark hair. Muscular. Sometimes I picture him."

"This guy have a name?" I asked.

"Probably?" Lucy said, "I've never talked to him. I see him in class sometimes."

"It'd be weird if he didn't have a name," I said, "Like, if he was called Random Hotguy or whatever."

"I'd call him Randy," Lucy said.

"Well, that seems appropriate," I said.

I played at being coy, but I couldn't help but feel a little hurt as my sister described a crush who was almost the exact opposite of my skinny, short, light-haired self. I knew it was stupid to feel jealous. For one, she was my sister and so completely off limits. For another, I'd literally forced her to say something. So, what did I expect, exactly?

But that didn't stop me from seething in the moment. And so, I felt the need to take some measure of revenge.

"There is this one girl," I said.

"Do tell," Lucy said.

"She's, um, got brown hair. Brown eyes. Short. She's skinny but in kind of a cute way."

"And where did you find this alluring coat rack?" Lucy asked. Her face was turning sourer by the second.

"You know, around," I said.

"Like around the house maybe?" Lucy asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, you're obviously talking about Kara," Lucy said.

"I'm not perving on your best friend," I said.

Lucy rolled her eyes at me.

"Fine. Maybe a little bit," I said.

Lucy shook her head, dismissively.

"What?" I asked. "What's wrong with Kara? She's your friend, isn't she?"

"I just think you could do better," Lucy said. I realized it, suddenly. Lucy wasn't playing around. Her feelings were actually, honestly hurt. As if she hadn't done the same thing to me moments before.

"Well, what about Randy?" I asked. "I mean, the guy doesn't even have a real name. Don't you think you should set your sights a little higher?"

Lucy went quiet. She pursed her lips. The air in the room felt thick and heavy. Filled with anger and resentment. More than either of us could carry. After weeks of unbreakable buoyancy, this one silly conversation had popped us both.

I started to get off the floor, but Lucy stopped me.

"There is this one other guy," she said. Her cheeks went a little red.

I realized my sister was making a peace offering and, fortunately, I was smart enough to accept it. I let myself be held in place.

"He's really cute, kinda handsome," Lucy said, "Light brown hair. Nice body." She ran her eyes up and down me, like punctuating her point.

I let out a loud sigh and lay back down on the floor. "Seriously?" I asked.

"I mean, you're right next to me," Lucy said. "It's kind of hard not to. I see your face. Your eyes. You're actually quite attractive you know that?"

"Even though I'm short and skinny with light hair, and have an actual real name?" I said.

"Even though," Lucy said.

"Well, as long as we're being honest, there is this other girl I sometimes think about," I said, "She's very pretty. Gorgeous, honestly. And her body is like, wow. She's really hot."

Lucy looked down at herself, dubiously. "Not too fat?" she asked.

"Oh my God, no," I said immediately. "She's practically fucking perfect."

"Wow," Lucy said. She breathed it out in a little sigh. Almost like one of the sounds she'd make when she was about to peak.

"Anyway, I know I shouldn't but..."

"It's OK," Lucy said, "I get it.

"Like you said, it's hard not to," I said, "In the moment. You're there, you know? Feeling you bump against me. Hearing your little noises. It's kinda awesome, actually."

"Kind of?" Lucy asked, but I could see she was teasing. "You sure you wouldn't rather a certain skinny brunette?"

"I prefer blondes," I said. A pause. "Are you OK with that? I know it's wrong and all, but."

"I'm fine with it," Lucy said. She put her hand on mine. Just that little touch felt electric. "As long as you're OK with me doing it, too."

"Yeah," I said, "Yes. I'm OK with that."

Everything seemed settled. The next day went on as normal. Even that night, when we held our regular pressing session, it was like nothing had changed.

But when Lucy reached her apex, she gasped out. "Oh Dylan," she said, "So good."

Then dropped limp to the floor.

*

And so, we started talking.

Again, never outside our little meetups. We didn't get flirty in the kitchen or tease each other in front of the TV. But when we'd press, it was like one long running conversation. Whether we were talking to ourselves or communicating with each other I can't say for sure. But we became downright chatty as we made ourselves cum.

"Oh, that's the spot. Right there," Lucy said.

"Fuck that's nice," I said, "So good."

"Gonna cum... So close," Lucy said.

"Ah... cumming..." I said.

Nothing else changed.

There were times when I wished for more. I imagined Lucy taking her shirt off, her massive tits trembling as she took herself to paradise. I thought about grabbing her hand when I came. Or, for that matter, us giving up on the floor and grinding against each other.

These were passing thoughts, fast fantasies, that usually disappeared immediately post-press. Despite our daily actions, the things we said to each other, I kept Lucy filed safely away in my 'sister' folder. I was unable to imagine ever storing her under a different category.

Summer stretched languid around us. Dad, Mom, and our older sister Jan all got busy with work. Our younger sister Lindsay disappeared all day to be with her friends. Family dinners were few and far between. Lucy and I mostly hung out with each other.

The next step was probably inevitable.

"Fuck that feels so good," Lucy said as she pressed down on her pillow. We were back in my older sister's bedroom, doing what we did best -- getting ourselves off while we got on with each other.

"You like that?"

"Oh yes," Lucy said, "Oh Dylan you have no idea. How good this makes me feel."

"I'd be damn better than a pillow," I said.

"And I'm sure I'm much more than a floor," Lucy said, "You want that? Feel my body -- AH! -- beneath you?"

"So soft and warm," I said, "Your breasts. That ass."

"So hard," Lucy said, "Aching. Thrusting. OH! Oh Dylan. I'm getting close. You gonna let your big sister cum for you?"

"Please. I'm there, too. Let go. I want to see it. Feel it. Feel you cum."

"Oh OH! Oh yes!" Lucy shook. Shuddered.

As if her orgasm sparked mine, the pleasure overwhelmed me. Hot spurts shooting down my leg.

"Oh, fuck that was good," Lucy said.

She rolled over and kissed me on the top of the head.

It was shocking, that sudden contact. Like another wall had been broken through. I swear I could smell the dusty, chipped plaster as my sister busted through yet another barrier.

I rolled over to look at her. I'm sure she saw the shock in my face. Instead, my older sister shrugged.

"Just thanking you," Lucy said.

"I didn't do anything," I said.

"If you say so," Lucy said, and she winked my way.

I started to get up. Flopped back. Like I said, that hardwood floor was incongruently comfy after an explosive orgasm. I imagined a pointy rock might feel the same at that point, honestly. That was the thing about cumming, everything around me felt soft and welcoming. My mind, however, became far sharper.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

Again, Lucy shrugged.

"No, seriously, what is this?"

"Fun," Lucy said, as if it were obvious.

"So, we keep doing it," I said.

"At least till we go back to school in the Fall," Lucy said, "Why not? You have something better to do?"

I had to concede that I did not. The friends that I might want to talk to had all gone off to their lives. The people I very much did not want to see were right outside our front door. It was too easy to feel trapped by a bunch of circumstances that were out of my control.

Lucy seemed to be feeling the same thing. She sat down next to me, leaning back on her bed frame.

"Look, the past year has been so hard," Lucy said, "Dad losing his job. Then losing the house. Having to come home from school and go back to County. This place. I know it's where we live but it's not home. Even the smells are so unfamiliar. I don't like it here. I don't like this. It sucks for you too, right?"

"It's fucking miserable," I said.

"Right," Lucy said, "And this is just... Look, I'm not saying it's my life or anything. It's a distraction. But it's kind of keeping me sane right now. So, I don't want to stop. We'll move on when it's time. I know we will."

"That makes sense," I said, "Honestly, it's helping me, too."

"We'll reach a certain point," Lucy said, "It'll be easy. One day we'll stop doing it and it won't even feel different. You'll look back and realize 'oh, it's been so long since we did it.'"

"Just like that?"

"Don't you think so?" Lucy said, "Besides it's not like we're doing anything serious here. We're not even touching."

I thought back to that kiss on the head my sister had given me. For a moment, I realized that we were both deceiving ourselves. But that's the thing about a mirage. It's all about how badly you want to see it.

*

The summer got hotter. Mom talked a big game about buying some window air conditioners, but they never materialized. Lucy and I, already down to t-shirts and shorts, were running out of ways to stay cool. I knew it was bad when Lucy said it was even too hot to press.

I reached the breaking point one afternoon when the knob of my bedroom door melted off in my hand. I wish I was exaggerating, but there I was, standing stupidly in the hallway, with a broken knob in my hand and no way to get back into my bedroom.

Instead, I went downstairs. Lucy was lazing on the couch, stretched out and miserable. She had on a pair of red mesh shorts and a white, ribbed tank. Her top was slightly pulled up, uncovering her cute tummy.

"This house sucks!" she said, writhing in discomfort.

I held up my doorknob as evidence.

"What's that?" she asked.

I explained and she giggled, then groaned. "Oh my God, we're both going to be burnt hamburger here in the house."

"We could go out," I said.

"It's hotter out there than it is here," Lucy said, "Let's watch a movie. About something cold."

"Do you think that'll help?" I asked.

But Lucy was already surfing the screen. Finally, she settled on some old rom-com called The Cutting Edge about competitive ice skating. It was barely watchable, and it didn't help me feel any cooler. But Lucy seemed happy, and it was too hot to argue. It's not like I could go back to my bedroom.

About halfway through -- the female lead kept saying the words 'toe pick' -- Lucy paused the movie.

"I want to take my shirt off," she said, in a strangely matter of fact tone.

"OK?" I gave my sister an odd look.

"You can take yours off, too," Lucy said.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," I said, "It's a little different when I do it."

"Look, it's really hot," Lucy said, seemingly unaware of the double entendre. "And I'm super uncomfortable. Seeing me in a bra won't even make the top ten of things you've witnessed from me lately. So, I'm going to do this and you're going to be OK with it. OK?"

Oh, I was way more than OK in that moment. Did I mention my sister's chest was amazing? It was much more than that. Lucy had epic breasts. I knew it, despite the fact that I'd never seen more than the shape of them under her shirt. So yeah, no, I was more than alright with my sister taking her shirt off on the couch. If anything, I was sad that she'd already set the limit at leaving her bra on.

But this was weird right? Tell me I'm not strange for thinking it was weird that my big sister was going to take out her titties in the middle of the living room in front of her younger brother, as casually as pouring herself a drink.

Yet, no matter how I felt about it, my sister was doing it. Lucy reached down for the bottom of her tank and pulled it over her head. You'd think she was ripping off a band-aid, not exposing her twin holiest of holies to her kid brother. But Lucy kept it casual.

I more than made up for Lucy's lack of concern, however, with my own reaction. I gaped. I gawped. My sister sat back on the couch in nothing but a lacy black bra and a pair of tiny, scarlet shorts. You'd think she'd just showed me the mysteries of the universe. And, to some extent, she truly had.

There are no words to describe what Lucy had revealed to me. Her bra covered a good portion of her breasts, but still. Her boobs were massive. Full and proud. Yet perfectly shaped and wonderfully peachy. I know I'm doing a lousy job of describing them. I'm sure you're thinking 'dude, they're just boobs, and your sister's boobs at that.' But I'm telling you. That's my point. They were so much more than anything I can describe to you. Like discovering the sun after a lifetime of darkness.

And, again, I was only seeing about a third of them thanks to Lucy's lacy bra.

"Ahem," Lucy cleared her throat, dramatically.

"Sorry," I said, and did my best to stop staring. It was like trying to look away from a black hole, so strong was that pull to peek.

"Ahem hem," Lucy did it again, even louder this time. She gestured to my chest.

"Oh," I said, "Right." I didn't remember agreeing to this literal tit for tat, but I wasn't going to step away from it, either. I pulled off my t-shirt, sticky with sweat, and tossed it aside.

"Very nice," Lucy said, looking at me appraisingly.

"You know, I'm completely bare while you're still wearing your bra. It seems to me it would be more even if we were both topless," I said. I mean, can you blame me for trying?

Lucy smirked and shook her head. "Nice try, little brother," she said. She turned the movie back on.

We finished the film, both of us staying in our state of half-dress. You won't be surprised to learn that I missed most of what was on the screen. Look, I'm sure that Moira Kelly was kind of cute for her day, but compared to Lucy's luscious, stupendous, lace-covered chest, nothing else could compete.

I spent the entire time stealing glances when I thought my sister wasn't looking. It wasn't enough. A lifetime's pass to stare wouldn't have been enough.

When the movie was over, when the guy finally got the girl, Lucy looked my way. I was ready to get berated for my inability to keep my eyes off my sister's mounds. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. Pointed her chin. Well, I guess it wasn't too hot after all.

"Here's fine," Lucy said, sliding off the couch.

Instinctively I looked around. If the house hadn't been empty, I was pretty sure we'd have already been caught by now. I joined my older sister on the living room floor.

Lucy reached for a pillow off the couch. She didn't bother grabbing for her shirt. Oh. My. God. As if things couldn't get any better. Seeing my sister lying on her stomach -- about to pleasure herself with a pillow -- with her breasts hanging near-free in her bra? I swear I felt my sanity start to snap.

"You like my titties?" Lucy asked, her face cinched as she pressed down.

For some reason, the word 'titties' sounded strange coming out of her mouth. The sight of her humping the floor was more than enough to overwhelm my momentary pause.

"You look so sexy," I said. I settled into the floor. Honestly, I was too hard at that point to hump. It didn't matter. Watching Lucy was more than enough.

"Oh, that feels so good," Lucy said, "Seeing you staring. Am I truly so amazing, little brother?"

"You have no idea," I said.

"Think about it. Doing this. Holding me. Squeezing. Would you like that? Do you -- OH! -- want to feel my body while I do this? While I cum for you?"

"So bad," I said.

"Oh Dylan, I wish you could..." Lucy froze mid-moment. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then why aren't you... you know?"

"Oh," I said. I was surprised she even noticed that I wasn't stuffing myself against the floor. "Well, um, you see. It's kinda hard to do this when I'm hard."

"Aw, did looking at your sister's titties give you a stiffy?" Lucy asked. Boy, she really did like using that word for her breasts. "I thought getting an erection was supposed to help you with this stuff."

"It does," I said, "It would. It's just, when we do it this way, if I'm too worked up, it hurts when I try to, you know, make things happen."

"Well, what if you did it a different way," Lucy said, "You know, the way that it would work with you erect."

"Lucy, I don't know."

"Take it out," Lucy said, "Show me. It's OK. I want to see it. Please."

"No bra," I said. If I was going for it, then I was going for it.