Stay for the Summer

"We've both grown up a lot since I moved out, and we don't have anything to fight about."

"True enough, but that was no reason for kids to stop fighting each other."

I yawned and stretched. "It's been a long, busy day for me, and I have to work in the morning. I'm going to turn in."

"Me too. How about a hug for your little sister?"

I managed to keep it affectionate but fraternal. I didn't feel like trying to explain a boner. I undressed for bed once my door was closed, and could encourage an erection. She really had an effect on me, and seemed totally unaware. Ginny had grown into a gorgeous woman, who was smart and capable on top of it. The kind of woman I hoped to find.

I lay on top of the sheet for a while, idly playing with myself. I saw plenty of kleenex on the nightstand, so went ahead and got to work on it. Pre-come started oozing. I wet my hand with saliva to spread it around, and my rubbing took on a very different feel -- my hand actually sliding along it, instead of just shifting the skin back and forth. I cupped my balls with the other hand, enjoying the warmth and pressure. I moved that hand to tug one of my nipples, too.

I was well into it when I heard a thump from Ginny's room. That stopped me cold, and I listened to find out what had happened. Another thump, and I heard Ginny moaning. It took me a moment to realize she wasn't hurt, far from it. She was doing the same as me, releasing the pressures of the day, whatever they might have been for her. My hand started again before I even realized it was moving, masturbating along with her, even if she didn't know it. Soon her voice soared, until she bit it back. She was coming. I was a lot quieter, but pumped a hug wad of semen toward my chest. Four or five more good strokes, and I was pumped dry. I kept my hand on my penis, though, and felt it shrink in my hand. After a couple of minutes, I let go, wiped myself up, and dumped the tissues in the trash. I had to admit, life with Ginny was getting interesting.

I woke up about six the next morning, and started my morning ritual. You know, the part I do on autopilot, before I'm fully awake. I started to make my French press coffee, then jolted into the realization I'd have to make two cups today, minimum. I clattered around in the kitchen a bit and got the bigger press out. I loaded that with coffee while the microwave heated the water, then started cutting up two bowls of melon. Ginny seemed to like that yesterday. I heard her door open a little later, and she plodded out, still wiping sleep from her eyes. She wore the same pajamas as yesterday, but I think only one button halfway down held it closed. I'm sure that wasn't for my benefit, but I liked the look. It practically begged for "wardrobe malfunction."

She yawned and said, "You're up early."

"It's a work day for me. By the way, do you mind if I go to your room for a few things from my desk?"

"It's your apartment, go ahead."

"But it's your room in my apartment. Thanks." I fetched my work laptop and a few other things, and set up at the far end of the table. I put a bowl of melon and cup of coffee in front of her, then got my own. I thought about bringing up her night-time activity last night, but decided against it. Her room is private, and she's welcome to do in private the things people do in private. And I'm no better, in truth. And no worse, just quieter.

She revived a bit and I asked her about plans for the day. She had started looking on line for summer work yesterday, since all of her internship applications fell through. I wasn't surprised. My company has fewer than 1% as many intern slots as applications. With that possibility gone, she'd take just about anything that came up. She mentioned that she'd applied for jobs as a waitress, something at the local chain hardware store, at the big hotel in town for their summer rush, and a few other things along those lines. She had scholarships and support from Mom and Dad, enough to cover school expenses, but a summer job would get her more discretionary spending. That was her word for 'fun stuff'.

It's a brutal job market out there, and she was competing against every other college student and lots of high school students for some slot that would pay a measly pittance. She came home Monday frustrated and discouraged. I had already started on supper, a big fritata to split, pan-browned potatoes, and that tomato salad from yesterday filled out with chunks of cucumber. Ginny glanced at it and said, "That looks great, Doug! I just don't feel very good right now. I'm not sure my stomach could handle much more than ice water."

I filled a glass for her, and she retreated to her room. Oh well, supper for me and lots of leftovers. I went back to thinking about that challenge and trying a few ideas. After a few hours I had deleted exactly as much as I had written, and understood that writing isn't is easy as I thought. I turned everything off and started for bed. I undressed and started a shower, to save time in the morning. While I was soaping up, I heard Ginny come running across the living room. She slammed the bathroom door open, head straight for the toilet, and started throwing up before she had time to lift the seat. I shut off the shower and, dripping wet, went over to her. She has paused for a moment, chest heaving, and started again. I sat down next to her and waited. I noticed that she had her pajamas on, but the top was completely open. Her breasts hung and swayed as she puked, but there was nothing erotic about the moment. It really just added to her pathetic look. I stood up and got a glass of water for her and sat down again. I asked, "Are you okay?"

Ginny looked at me with bleary eyes and took the water. She rinsed her mouth, spat into the toilet, gargled and spat again, and sat back with her shirt still open. "I feel lousy. I have no idea what happened. I felt great all day. Right now, I can barely move."

I stood up and flushed the toilet. That's when I realized that she was still sitting on the floor, I was still naked and wet, and my dick was almost in her face. It wasn't a moment to worry about who saw what, but I backed off some. "Ginny, just take it easy for now." She sipped the water cautiously, but wasn't rushing to get away from the toilet. I stood again and toweled off, then stepped past her to get to my room for some clothes. While I was dressing, I heard her retch again. When I got back, there was a little more in the toilet and Ginny was rinsing her mouth again. I also saw bits of puke on her shirt and chest. I went back to my room and got another tee shirt. Then I went back to the bathroom, got some warm water on a washcloth, and sat next to her again. "Is it okay if I clean you up a little?"

She nodded without looking at me. I wiped her chin first, then her chest between her breasts. They're perfect, slumping a bit to the side as she leaned back, but the contrast between her bare beauty and miserable state left me feeling concern and pity for her more than anything else. That didn't stop an erection from starting, though. Well, I thought, she already knows what it is, if she notices at all. "Your shirt's a mess, Ginny. Here, put this on." I put the folded tee shirt in her lap. She came alive, a little, and started wrestling with her shirt. She fumbled a bit, so I helped push it off her shoulders. Then I helped her get the clean shirt on. I folded the pajama top and threw it in the laundry -- that one was going to get washed very soon, before it stunk up the whole house.

"Are you okay? There's an urgent care center not far away."

Ginny stood up, a bit wobbly. "Maybe it's just a stomach bug. I think I'll be all right." She made it back to her room and closed the door. I was happy that the apartment came with a small washer and dryer. The pajama top and washcloth went in, along with a few other things to make a whole load. I read while the washer ran, and listened for more activity in Ginny's room. And, with the crisis past, I called up the memory of those small, full breasts. I'd seen her in bathing suits plenty of times, but the soft, pink nipples made it a very different experience.

The washer finished. I moved the wet load to the dryer and went to bed, my mind still full of lovely pink nipples.

I woke up about my usual time, and saw Ginny at the table, sipping a glass of water. She still had my tee shirt on, a little loose at the shoulders, tight across the chest, and short at the hem. "How are you doing?"

"Better, but not great. I think this water is about all I can handle right now. And I swear I'm never eating another tuna sandwich from a food truck again."

"You were in rough shape last night. It's good to see you up and about. If you want a cup of coffee or something, let me know."

"Thanks, just water for now." She sipped and looked thoughtful. "Uh, Doug. I didn't mean to flash you last night. And if I had had the runs, you would have seen everything."

"You got a good look at me too." She nodded and looked away. "It wasn't a moment to worry about that kind of thing. I didn't see a naked woman last night. I saw my little sister, sick and vulnerable."

"And I didn't see a naked man last night. I saw my big brother taking care of me. It reminded me of that time when I was about six and got sick when Mom was away. Dad took care of me, and made me feel safe. You made me feel safe last night. Can I have a hug?"

I got down next to her chair, then put one arm around her shoulder and the other across her stomach. She towered over me, as usual, but put an arm around my shoulder. We just held for a moment, then I got up. "It's another work day for me. Gotta get to it."

She answered, "I should be job-hunting too, but I think I'll just go back to bed. I'm really not up for much more."

I went to the end of the table designated as my temporary desk and opened my work laptop. Despite what I told Ginny, I did see a naked woman last night, or half naked. And, once the crisis passed I could recognize that I did see very beautiful woman, and that she was my sister. That stirred up a mix of feelings I didn't want to look into. Unfortunately, I knew they'd still be there after I finished work.

A few hours later, she padded over to the kitchen, got something, and padded back to her room again. She came out again while I taking my lunch break, dressed for the day. She stopped by me on her way out and kissed the top of my head. "I'll be out for a while, but back for supper. Need anything while I'm out?"

"I don't think so. I'll text if I can think of anything."

The next few days, we barely saw each other -- a quick hello at breakfast, some idle chatter over supper, then her retreating to her room. I started to feel that she was avoiding me. Other than when she was sick, though, I heard the sofa thumping and her moaning every night. I'm usually a once-in-the-morning guy about jerking off, sometimes another one at night or on a day off. She was making me into a nocturnal wanker, though, leading by example. One night, she even went twice. I tried to keep up, but her second one came fast and mine, me being male, came a lot more slowly. It was fun anyway.

Friday, Ginny phoned home with good news. The hardware store hired her, partly because she could tell a machine screw from a carriage bolt, and knew why you'd want one or the other. It was indoor work, no heavy lifting (I'm guessing an insurance thing), and decent money. I told her I'd be cooking that night. I quit work early and went shopping to make something special for her. I also got a bottle of Jack Daniels for me, and an extra bottle of wine -- make that two -- to share between us. I made a couple of curries, one with chick peas, one with dal, and both with lots of vegetables, a spicy fresh onion chutney, raita, and a chopped salad. I had some papadams from my last trip to the Indian grocer, too. (Maybe it's cheating, but they work fine in the microwave.) I didn't use curry powder either, I mixed my own spices to give each dish its own flavor. Rice, of course, the brown rice I usually use. Maybe the food

wasn't authentic, but they're flavors I like. Everything was on the table when she got home, including a big glass of a rich red wine for each of us.

"Congratulations to my gainfully employed sister!" I took a glass from the table and raised it to her.

She did likewise, and offered her own toast. "To paychecks! My god, Doug, you did all that today?"

"Like yours, easy, fast, and tasty. For the curries, that just meant stirring the pot occasionally. And I thought you'd want something to celebrate with."

"You sweetie. You didn't have to."

"If I had to, I probably wouldn't have wanted to. Sit, sit, it's getting cold." She hung her purse in the closet, kicked off her sneakers, and joined me at the table. She chattered happily about the people she'd talked to, but still seemed to be avoiding my gaze. Maybe it was the spices, but we both went at the wine more than usual and opened the second bottle only half-way through the meal. We both sat back, pleasantly stuffed, and she said "You cooked, right? I know my job."

"Well, only if you don't want desert. That specialty store," I named the ice cream shop where everything cost twice as much, but was worth three times as much, "had ginger and cardamom ice creams, and they're in the freezer waiting for us.

"Up til you said that, I was sure I couldn't eat another bite. Bring it on, and I'll clean up afterwards."

Despite her eagerness and mine, we each had small servings of both. While she was cleaning up, I invaded the kitchen long enough to get a good-sized Jack and an ice cube. Ginny saw what I had. "You've been holding out on me, haven't you?" She punched my shoulder as a gentle tease.

"Look, I just got it today, and I didn't know you even liked it. Feel free." She availed herself, then went back to the task at hand. The galley kitchen is too small for two people, so I sat off to the side and continued chatting while she bustled about her task. Mostly, I asked about school. Ginny said she was drawn to chemical engineering when time came to declare a major.

At the university I went to, the Engineering college was generally taken to have the hardest program. Within engineering, we agreed that the Chem E's had it worst. Among Chem E's, the ones in physical chemistry ("P chem") were said to have the toughest classes. No one knew what the ones in P Chem thought, because no one ever saw them. I did computer engineering which didn't have that kind of reputation, mostly because no one could figure out what it meant.

I had to ask, "Since you don't have a death wish, why Chem E?"

"A lot of reasons. I've looked over the thermo books, and I think I can keep up there. I like the number of different career paths in the field. And a lot of our environmental problems come from chemicals we use. Chem E's did a lot to create those problems and can do a lot to solve or prevent them. Also, I had a couple of great lecturers, and I liked the students in the introductory classes."

We had drifted back to the living room and sprawled on the couch. Talking about the students she liked wandered toward her love life. "I've got to tell you, the birth control pills were a waste of time. I think I'm the only twenty one year old virgin in the school." Maybe it was Jack Daniels talking, but I listened, somewhat surprised. High school was rough for both of us, in different ways, but I hoped college would give her more chances.

"There are the insecure guys intimidated by a woman taller than they are, the tall ones who tend to be jerks because they're big, and the pathetic desperate ones who'd fuck a hole in a fence. There must be some decent guys out there interested in someone like me, but I'm having a hell of a time finding them. It's like naming me 'Virginia' was some kind of a curse." After the wine at dinner, and a second Jack for each of us, we were both slurring some words. "`Scuse me, natural calls." She unfolded herself and made it to the bathroom.

While she was busy, I got a big glass of water for each of us. Ginny went to her room before coming back to the couch, and came back in her pajamas. She sat down next to me and leaned up against my shoulder. I shifted a bit to get more comfortable, and cradled her with one arm around her. She snuggled down too, and asked, "So what about you? I haven't heard you talk about anyone special in your life."

"Not much to tell. The COVID lockdown killed my social life, and I haven't really gotten out since."

Ginny faced away from me as she leaned against me. "A guy like you? You're smart, you can seduce with your cooking, and you're good looking. And you're the most caring guy I know. When I was sick, you jumped to take care of me. And..."

She fidgeted with the glass in her hand. "And you're good looking. I got to see that up close when you were taking care of me. All over."

I looked down at her, cuddled up against me. At that angle, I saw the top of her head, her chest, and her legs folded up on the couch. I also saw the top few buttons of her shirt opened up.

I stammered, "Uh, sorry about that. You caught me at an odd moment."

"Nothing to apologize for. It wasn't your choice for me to barge in on you like that. Or mine, really. But you really are good looking. And it was sweet the way you cleaned me up, as if I were still a little girl. But I couldn't help notice, were you getting hard when you wiped the puke off my chest?"

It took me a moment to find my voice. "Uh, well, some. The thing has a mind of its own."

"Even when I was a mess like that, you thought I was pretty?" She set her glass down and rolled onto her side, head in my lap. Her shirt flopped open as she did, leaving one breast entirely exposed.

"Ginny, you're about the most beautiful woman I know. And half bare, the way you were,..."

"You liked my boobs? They're not too small?"

"That's not what I was thinking about at the moment. But later, after you'd gone to bed, they were all I could think about. They're perfect."

It must have been the alcohol. She pushed her shirt open some more and asked, "Then why can't I find a guy who likes the way I look? I mean, I didn't ask to be like this."

"You mean tall, Ginny? Statuesque? Like a Valkyrie? Like a goddess?" I guess the alcohol had hit me, too. "Beautiful women scare some guys. We think, 'but what would she see in me?' and give up before we even start. Sometimes it just gets worse if they make the first move."

"I don't scare you, do I?"

"My little sister? Heck no. I love you too much."

She wrapped her arm around mine and pulled it close, pulled it up toward her chest. "You really think I'm beautiful? Then why don't I feel that way?" She had pulled my hand up to her breast. I cupped it and felt its fullness, its softness.

"I don't know what to say, Ginny."

"Maybe you shouldn't say anything. You're getting hard again, aren't you." With her head in my lap, I couldn't very well argue. "For me."

"Yes. For you, Ginny."

I wasn't prepared for what came next. She got up and went to her room, not saying a word. After the door closed, I heard her lock it. Then, softly, I thought I heard her sobbing. I had no idea what just happened. I went to her door and knocked. "Ginny? Are you okay?"

"Good night, Doug." A catch in her voice made me want to hug her, but I had been dismissed. I put the glasses in the dishwasher, put a few other things away, and went to my own bedroom. I lay awake for a long time. Any other night, I'd probably rub one off to help me sleep, but it didn't feel right that night. Eventually, though, I did sleep.

Some time later, I woke to darkness. I felt a hand on my shoulder, Ginny's hand. "Doug? Are you awake?"

I put my hand over hers. "Ginny, what are you doing here?"