Sisters, by Any Other Names

Normally I would've agonized -- not just over the bizarre and embarrassing situation itself, but also whether to slide off her sweatpants separately, and then her panties, or to do both at once. I decided time might be of the essence, so I quickly opted for the latter. I slid my hands underneath her shirt -- my shirt -- and found the waistband of the sweats. I wriggled my fingers until I found her panties' waistband, too, and then hooked my thumbs in.

Maxine tried to lift her hips to help me, though it ended up being more of a half-and-half, hip-by-hip endeavor. I slid the soft fabric off of her slowly, not wanting to disturb her with any sudden or forceful movements. Once everything was down around her ankles, I looked up to see that her pussy was covered by the T-shirt again. I felt a pang of disappointment, but the visual still sent a surge of heat and energy into my groin. At that angle, it looked like she was wearing nothing but my T-shirt, and that idea was even sexier than what I could -- and couldn't -- see.

Then there was the smell. For the first time ever, I caught an undeniable, unmitigated whiff of Maxine's arousal. My nose barely even processed it as a scent; my brain wasn't thinking of analogues -- what it smelled like. I instinctively accepted that it was a unique aura, existing as both more and less than a regular smell. I also instinctively wanted more. Right then, I was glad I was completely sober. I could imagine my stoned self turning into a bloodhound for my girlfriend's sister's pussy.

Luckily for me, Maxine was in no shape to catch me staring or sniffing. When I finally moved to lift her up again, she was languidly compliant. Up was harder than down, and she grunted a small complaint to the natural laws of the universe that I found very cute. We got her settled on the toilet without incident, though, and I moved away.

"Okay," I repeated, "I'll be right outside when-"

I was interrupted by a sigh, a tinkle, and then a stream. Maxine was peeing happily. Apparently, the high she was riding was making her truly appreciate the routine function. She didn't look overly relieved, as though it had been an emergency. She seemed serene, like someone who'd taken "stop and smell the roses" one perfectly logical step further by peeing on them.

Her face and her little sighs were adorable; that was what I'd settled on as stoned-Maxine's defining characteristic. Her nonsensical boasting, her giggling, her sing-songy voice, her lack of embarrassment, and her indulgence in simple pleasures were all effortlessly cute. Even if I couldn't yet imagine outright fucking her, I could picture her serving as an oversize stuffed animal -- Sam's usual nighttime role. I could see myself cuddling this version of Maxine -- possibly even to death, like a real Lenny.

"Okay," she sighed, signaling she was done. She made no move to get up, or to do anything.

"Do you want to try the bidet?" I asked. "We got an attachable one online."

"That's for the butt," she said, finding it quite funny.

"Not just," I said, "but the paper's right next to you."

She finally opened her eyes and looked at me. If there'd been any doubt in my mind she were stoned, it would have vanished. It was impossible to read her through the glassiness. "Does Sam like it?" she asked shyly.

"She does," I answered.

"Okay," she said again.

Never mind fiction having to make sense while reality doesn't; fiction also needs better dialogue. Stoned people -- and the people supervising them -- tend to say one clever or funny thing for every twenty stupid grunts.

"It's right there next to you -- yup, you got it."

She looked at the handheld sprayer with what I assumed was surprise -- maybe amusement, too -- and eventually began to move it towards it target. She paused, though, and looked down.

"Oh no, your shirt," she said.

"Don't worry about-"

The sprayer was already down on her lap, and she was pulling the shirt up over her head -- or trying to. Her hair was in the way, and that small hiccup caused her to start swaying again. The bidet nozzle slipped off her lap. Without waiting for her to ask, I helped get the shirt up and off, then set it aside on the floor. Maxine, practically naked on the toilet in front of me, found my gaze with her glassy brown eyes again and tried to be serious.

"I want that back when I'm done," she said.

"Of course," I replied. "Anything you want."

Satisfied, she went to retrieve the sprayer, only to find it had disappeared. I helped her out, and her confusion turned back into satisfaction.

"Give it a test before you spray yourself," I said. "Get a feel for how powerful it is."

"Right," she said, nodding somberly. "Don't want to blast the ki-tty." That line was another song.

"No, we want to be nice and gentle with the kitty," I agreed, trying my best not to laugh. It occurred to me that I hadn't been ogling her breasts, even though I'd been given the perfect opportunity. I still didn't shift my focus, though. Maxine's helplessness was triggering different instincts.

Maxine gave the handle a squeeze, and squeaked and jumped in surprise as the water hit the inside of the bowl.

"So, the trick is to not squeeze it all the way," I offered. "Go ahead and experiment until you're comfortable."

After a few minutes of "experimentation" that ended up looking more like amused play, Maxine was confident enough to aim the sprayer at herself. As she looked down towards the bowl, I took the opportunity to look up. The first thing I noticed was that Maxine's tan was indeed earned honestly from travel. Her breasts -- and, with a glance down, her entire bikini area, I confirmed -- were much lighter than the rest of her. I couldn't be sure, but I thought her natural tone might be lighter than Sam's, though simultaneously less pekid. That was no slight against my girlfriend; she did spend the majority of her time under the fluorescent lights of libraries and classrooms, and I'd come to associate her skin with both her bookish nature and her scheming. Maxine, though, was all about health and fitness. She wouldn't touch an exercise machine or free weights -- thank social media for that intimate tidbit - but she did enough walking, hiking, swimming, biking, and yoga to put most of us to shame.

Her pale twins were bigger than Sam's, which I'd already known. They hung very slightly in a dewdrop, though not much, and were still high on her chest. I was terrible with bra sizes, so I hesitated to even guess. If Sam's were smaller than an A cup, I supposed Maxine's might be on the small side of a B.

She had Sam's nipples, and they were glorious. They were fully erect, too, begging to be played with. They still seemed a little too long for the breasts they were attached to, and, to me, that made them even sexier.

My luck held; Maxine was entirely focused on spraying herself, so I didn't get caught staring. She took her time and had some fun. When she was done, I was ready with some double-folded paper. She accepted it gingerly and dabbed herself off.

"One more, please," she said-sang. "I got a little wet down there."

I bit my tongue and assembled another folded square. She finished up and then raised her arms up expectantly over her head. That set her breasts to bouncing a bit, and I had to tear my eyes away. I retrieved the T-shirt from the floor and helped her get it back on.

The rest of the process was just as awkward, but manageable. We got her dressed again, and I steadied her as she washed up and dried her hands. After she was done, she leaned back into me and sighed.

"I think I need to lie down for a while," she said. "Couch?"

"Bedroom," I said.

"Mmmm," she agreed.

The trip down the hall was uneventful; I got clever and gave Maxine some loud and explicit encouragement, which I hoped would clue Sam in. Sure enough, I heard footsteps behind us in short order. I should have known that a little wine and weed wasn't going to dull her attention -- not on that day, of all days.

The room was dim, but the noonday light poking around the drawn shades was enough so that we could see clearly. Maxine took in the sight of the bed like a kid at Christmas. She crawled across and got settled in on her side before I could even offer to put the blankets down or tuck her in.

"You all set there, Maxine?" I asked.

She fidgeted around. "No," she pouted. "Stay with me."

A hand on my ass practically made me jump out of my skin.

"Big spoon," Sam whispered. "She loves being the little one."

I shook my head; Sam knew I wasn't saying no, so she didn't whine or cajole. I walked around to the side of the bed, climbed on, and then moved myself closer to our adorable, helpless prey. Maxine lifted her head to let my arm through. With a last look to Sam -- who was beside herself with glee, plus a hint of lust -- I spooned her older sister for real. I could only hope that Maxine's overwhelming high was dulling her senses enough so that she didn't feel -- or couldn't appreciate -- my twitching, swelling cock pressing into her back.

Maxine brought her arms up to mine, pressing us even tighter together. I was officially her combination-teddy-bear-and-blanket.

"So good, Will," she mumbled. "You're so good."

"Just relax, Maxine," I whispered. "I'm here, and everything's okay. You get some rest. I'll be here the whole time."

"You will," she said. "Will. Will will. Will."

I kissed the back of her head; she sighed happily and settled in to sleep. I resigned myself to a face full of hair.

Maxine was out like a light in less than a minute. When Sam was confident of that fact, she crept onto the bed and laid on her side, facing her sister. She reached out and began to caress her; I tried to shoot her a warning look, but the hair in my face made it difficult.

She found my eyes eventually, and all I could do was sigh into platinum-blonde tresses and accept that my devious imp was going to do whatever she wanted. I supposed I could hardly blame her for being so confident.

***********

I did not have a good nap, or anything near to it. Nevertheless, I did doze off a few times, so at least my perception of time didn't go wonky in the worse direction. When Maxine finally began to stir, the first thing I noticed was that Sam had barely moved. After blinking a few times and trying to breathe-push some blonde hair away from my face, I also noticed that the room's dim, filtered light hadn't shifted all that much.

I saw the moment when Maxine opened her eyes, even though I couldn't see her face; rather, I saw Sam's intentionally soften in response. She reached out hesitantly to stroke Maxine's hair.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," she said. "Welcome back."

Maxine shifted around in my grasp, trying to get her bearings. She didn't tense up, which I supposed was a good sign.

"Oh, dear," she said. "Um... Sam, I-"

"Shhhh," Sam said. "I told you that Will was here for anything you needed. Everything's okay, Maxy."

"I should go home," Maxine said. "Oh, Will, I'm sorry. I should go."

I heard lingering traces of song in her voice, though the tone had changed considerably. I assumed she was still high. Despite her guilt-ridden words, she wasn't making any moves to separate herself from her big spoon. I wouldn't have said anything, but Sam's face broke my heart.

"No," I said, putting some low, rumbling authority into my voice. "You should stay."

"... Okay."

"Good girl," I said, and kissed the back of her head through her hair.

Heat blossomed in front of my crotch. I could've sworn I felt a small shudder.

Sam's face lit up. "You hungry, Maxy?"

"Oh my god," Maxine replied, shifting gears abruptly. "I am so hungry."

"Okay!" Sam said. "I'll go start putting lunch out."

"We should get pizza," Maxine stated matter-of-factly. "Let's get pizza. I want pizza."

Score one point for Maxine, I thought to myself. She'd managed to surprise her sister. Sam adapted quickly, but I still caught that one precious moment on her face.

"Totally," she agreed. "We have a place. Onions, peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes."

"You remember!" Maxine cooed joyfully.

"You're my sister," Sam said. She scooched closer to Maxine and planted a kiss on her forehead. Then she was a bundle of energy, bounding off the bed towards some phone somewhere, or maybe the laptop. Our place did online ordering.

"You just sit tight," she said. "If you need anything, just tell Will."

"Okay," Maxine said lazily. "Love you."

That made Sam stop in her tracks for just one second. "Aw! Love you too!" Then she was back to it.

Then we were alone, together, in bed. I expected it to feel awkward, but it didn't. Maxine wasn't radiating any nervous or embarrassed energy. She seemed happy to keep being the little spoon. She rubbed one of my arms with her hand, then patted it.

"I know what she's doing," she said softly. "I just hope it isn't too bad for you when it doesn't work out. You're so good."

I panicked, but kept it locked down. I immediately wished Sam were back so she could move the right chess piece. I worked on instinct -- maybe stuff I'd absorbed from my sneaky pixie over the past two years.

"She loves you," I said. "She misses you when you're not around."

"Am I a good sister?" she asked abruptly.

I panicked again. "Well, Sam sure seems to like you," I deflected jovially.

Maxine sighed and patted my hand again. "You're a smart boy. You're very good. I'm not a horrible sister. I'm not good though. I'm on my journey. It's just too far away. I make it so that I don't miss her. I do it on purpose. If I let myself feel that way, then I'd just... sink. Stuck. Standstill."

I let my protective instinct take over; even though we were already pressed together, I moved around and made to cuddle, offering what fresh comfort I could.

"Sam knows you're your own person, Maxine," I said. "She knows you have to go. She just wants to be with you when you're home. Couldn't that be how it works? She could be your home. You can go on your journey, but when it's time to come home, you could come home to her."

"To you, too, though, right? She's going to marry you."

"Eventually, I think so," I replied.

"She better."

"Well I'm glad I have you in my corner!"

She chuckled at that, then got serious again. "So I'd be coming home to you -- to both of you."

"Yeah," I said. "You would. How does that sound?"

She sighed. "It feels very good right now," she said. "But you know that's not what she really wants."

"She wouldn't-"

"She wouldn't force it," Maxine said, "but she'd scheme. She's so smart, and so cute. She's very hard to say 'no' to."

"Can't argue with that," I conceded.

"She wants me to settle down," she said. "Get a steady job, maybe go back to school. Stay here longer. She'd yenta me, too, if she were more traditional."

"She's not that."

"No, she's not. But she would."

I let the conversation trail off. Maxine still made no move to get away from me or off the bed. Her absentminded stroking felt good. About a minute later, she spoke up again.

"Is she happy?" she asked. She sounded on the verge of tears. "When I'm away?"

"She misses you," I said again, "but I think we do okay. She has school, and her books, and her games. We've built a pretty good life here. I'm actually kinda hoping she'll get a job in the area once she graduates - maybe even at the university. They really like her at the library."

"She has you," Maxine said.

"I have her."

She sighed deeply. "Good," she said. "That's good."

The next minute of silence was thick; unlike during the previous one, I knew she wasn't done talking. She was working up to something.

"Can I be a bitch?" she asked. "Can I just be a total bitch for one second, Will?"

"Of course you can," I replied. "It's your day."

"You're so good," she said. "Sam did so much work. But it's hard. It's triggering. It's another whirlwind. You're sweeping me off my feet. All those guys... and then everything changes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shhhh," I said, caressing her and rocking her. "You're not a bitch. It's okay to feel that way. I understand."

"You do?" she asked, sounding unsure.

"I do," I said. "Today is a special day. It's not always going to be like this. Sam would tell you that too. Most days, it's going to be chips and salsa, a basic dinner -- maybe takeout, maybe leftovers, and maybe you'll even do the cooking sometimes. Maybe we'll keep more fresh veggies in the house. That's it. That'll be the big change. TV, movies, books, board games, video games. Maybe we'll go out somewhere every now and then -- but you can do that whenever you want. You're not tied down. Sam has school. I have work. We have lives, too. But we can be your home, when you want it or need it. You can just come over and take a load off.

"You know who we are, Maxine," I said. "We're lazy homebodies. We're nerds. We'll never lie to you about that. We'll never pretend to be world travelers, dancers, diners. I'll never get big into social media - ever. But she's your family, and maybe I will be someday too. She loves you. She just wants to be with you."

"Oh my god chips," she groaned out in a steady stream. "I am so hungry. I want chips. Do you have chips?"

"We have chips," I assured her. I tried to laugh off the fact that a reasonably-good speech had just bounced off of her and evaporated into the ether.

"Oh, we have chips," Sam boasted, bounding back into the room. "Do you know what kind of chips we have?"

Maxine finally shifted in my arms. I released her, and she started to crawl towards the edge of the bed. It became a scamper in short order, and Sam was there to greet her.

"You didn't!" she gushed.

"Sour cream and chive... kettle," Sam announced triumphantly.

I remembered her ordering those. It had been another one of those times I'd gotten sick from the price tag.

Maxine seemed all ready to rush to the kitchen, but then she stopped and looked back at me guiltily. "Um, Will?" she said. "Can I borrow Sam for a minute?"

"Oh, sure," I said, scrambling up off the bed. "I'll go hang out just in case the pizzas come early." It was the lamest excuse ever, because they most definitely weren't going to arrive for another half hour at least, but it got me out of the bedroom. The door closed behind me. I started wondering what they were up to right away.

They were only behind closed doors for five minutes; I pulled out a few bags of what was apparently Maxine's favorite chip -- something I had literally never seen her eat -- put them in bowls, and poured a few glasses of ice water, adding a slice of lemon to mark our guest's. The girls padded into the kitchen; the sound made me look down, and I noticed Maxine was back in socks.

"Ah, fresh pair," I said. "Good call."

Maxine turned beet red. Sam guffawed, then turned and whispered in her ear. Maxine's eyes widened and she looked down at her feet. Then she spotted the bowls of chips and the glasses of water, and the weird moment was entirely forgotten. We all sat down at the table, and Maxine retrieved her first chip from the nearest bowl. She stared at it reverently, holding it close to her face. Her eyes glazed over and her lips parted; it was almost sexual.

Then she ate it, and it got comically sexual.

"Oh my god," she moaned through the crunches. "Oh my god!" She was one of those porn stars who'd discarded all pretense of arousal and had just started shouting shit. It was hilarious.

Maxine went into full munchie mode after that. Every once in a while she focused on a particular chip and had another mini-orgasm. Most of the time, though, she was eating them on autopilot. In fact, she was destroying one of the two large bowls I'd put out. I got some more chips from the cupboard, including some of Sam's and my preferred flavor -- nacho cheese, because we're boring. Maxine gave me a look like I was god's gift when I got back to the kitchen table. While she didn't hog all of "our" chips, she wasn't shy about mixing and matching the flavors.