Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Shay

{ This story was originally posted at the now-defunct Sisters in Love }

When my love came home to me,
Pleasant summer bringing,
Every tree was out in leaf,
Every bird was singing.

There I met her in the lane
By those waters gleamy,
Met her toward the fall of day,
Warm and dear and dreamy.
Did I loiter in the lane?
None was there to see me.

Only roses in the hedge,
Lilies on the river,
Saw our greeting fast and fond,
Counted gift and giver,
Saw me take her to my home,
Take her home forever.

 — “In The Lane” by Christina Rossetti

---

The windshield wipers flailed against the ice as I idled in front of the Greyhound bus terminal. I rubbed my red-mittened hands together and tried to see if Janeen was getting off the big creaking silver coach, which had just pulled up in a cloud of exhaust and racket of air brakes.

Janeen, Janeen. Mom and Dad are waiting to twirl you on a spit and feed you to the wolves. You changed your major again. Then withdrew from all your classes entirely. And then lost your job, and with it your income. And now you have come home.

Suddenly I see you. Yes, there is your long, unruly dark hair and a blue scarf draped over the front of your army jacket. You’re wearing jeans and boots and struggling with a backpack and bag whose rollers won’t work on the snowy pavement.

I throw open the door of my little Honda and go half-skipping, half-sliding across the street towards you, leaving the car running.

“Janeen!” I shout to you and your face turns toward the sound of my voice and then you see me, your dopey little sister coming to get you. A tired but sweet smile crosses your face.

I run to you and throw my arms around you, hugging you tightly.

“Oh, Shammy,” you say, calling me by the nickname you’ve always had for me. Your lucky shamrock, your four leaf clover. And there we are, arms wrapped around each other in the middle of the sidewalk, me in my bright red jacket, hat and mittens, you in your slept-on-the-bus things.

I grab your bag as you hoist your backpack in place, and we hurry as best we can to the semi-warmth of my car, which, mercifully, has not been stolen.

So there you are, all five-feet one-inch of you, tired and coming home to face the music — and you know what? When I look at your sweet face, at your mind-of-its-own hair, hear your husky voice… I have the same reaction that I have always had. My heart twinges sharply with love for you. I want to stand between you and anything or anyone who might harm you, I want to bask in your presence and just relish the Janeen-ness of you. I have always admired you, and I do right then, even at your lowest point. To me, you shine, and the world finds you at its center.

You look at me and smirk and slap me playfully on the arm. “Do you even have a license or what? Can you drive this toy car?”

And my heart sinks a little, because I’m always just your dopey little sister, catching on to things a beat late, always running to catch up in your wake.

As I drive, I notice you eyeing me slyly. “Sooo,” you begin, “break any hearts lately? Any swains?” You say the word “swains” in your teasing voice.

I shake my head and look at my hands on the wheel. “No. No swains.”

Shall I tell you that when I’ve been with boys my mind has wandered, so much so that I don’t bother with them anymore? How my mind always turns to you? What it might be like if I could take you in my arms and kiss you, and tell you with my kisses how I feel about you, have always felt, will always feel? Just to be able to reach out and really touch your body…

My hand fidgets on the wheel at the thought and I have to bring myself back to reality. It will never happen. And where does that leave me?

At dinner, the atmosphere is tense. Dad suddenly sets down his fork with a metallic clank on the plate, and starts in. “I just don’t understand how you could just… quit like this!” There is horror of your failure in his face. You have done this to him, it is clear. Mom studies her salad. You have taken your life and cut him with it. You have cost him money, time, hopes, pride. Bad girl. Evil girl.

I have a headache. I am no longer hungry. He wants to extract a price for this. You have cost him, and now it will cost you. It will cost us all. Shall I say, “Please, pass the butter?” It would be like trying to stop the iron clouds in the sky outside the window. They will do what they must, and we will look up helplessly or hunker down someplace and wait it out.

We used to have tea parties. Our dolls and animals arrayed around a little table. We made forts. Inside, under the blanket walls, we would share our secrets and laugh till our sides hurt. Once, piled in a mound of stuffed animals, there in the cozy dark, you hugged me and said, “Shammy, you bring me luck, I swear you do. You are this human rabbit’s foot or something.” And you laughed at your own joke and sighed and squeezed me tightly. And I felt special to be your shamrock, your charm.

I have trailed along after you, down the years of our growing up. You have been this beautiful star, unattainable, but so near at the same time, warming and tantalizing me. And despite your lovely light, a thousand thousand miles out of reach.

I pad down the hall to your old bedroom. My stomach is upset and I am worried for you. I am wearing this big pink nightshirt. You always tease me for my love of things pink.

I turn the knob carefully. I don’t want to disturb you if you have managed to go to sleep. I step in.

And there you are sitting on the bed. The lamp is on, casting a yellow glow across your face, and I see it is stained with tears. There is a razor in your hand. And a long thin cut on your arm, weeping red blood.

At first I think the worst, and my breath stops short and my heart lurches in my chest. And then I understand — you are letting the pain out.

Tears fill my eyes, but I can still see your shoulders start to shake as you sob helplessly by yourself on the bed, with your bleeding arm. In an instant I am at your side, gathering you into my arms, covering you with kisses and rocking you and making shushing sounds.

“I… I just…” you try to explain, but your pain won’t let you. I hold you and we cry together there in the dim glow of the small lamp.

“Don’t do this,” I whisper urgently to you, and lightly touch your hurt arm.

You roll your tear-filled eyes and squirm as if you were caught in a trap. “Oh, just one more failure, what’s the difference? I—”

I place my fingers gently across your lips and shake my head. I look into your eyes and everything shifts. I have always idolized you, felt myself a little admirer in your shadow. But now, I suddenly feel strong, like a mother grizzly bear. I am going to stop this, I am going to claim you, bring you back to yourself. I will show you yourself through my loving eyes.

“No, sis. You’re beautiful. Always were… always will be.” And I lean in and kiss your hairline and your cheeks and you let me.

Then I take your arm tenderly in my hands. I lean down and kiss where you have hurt yourself. You try to draw away, but I hold you firmly.

“Never again,” I say to you, a drop of your blood on my lips. “I won’t allow it,” in my very softest voice. Then I strip off my nightshirt and wrap your arm with it. I lick my lips clean, and lean close to you.

“Janeen,” I say in a tone I have longed to use with you. “You are more beautiful than anything that may have gone wrong.” I stroke your collarbone with my thumbs as if I were handling a precious artifact. “You are more beautiful than anyone’s anger, more beautiful than anyone’s disappointment.” I kiss your ears lightly, and whisper to you, “You are more beautiful than anything or anyone.”

With my heart pounding in my chest, I move your hair aside and cup your face in my hands and kiss you long and lingeringly on your mouth. You hesitate at first, but I keep kissing you, tenderly, lovingly, putting all of my emotion into it. And then with a little cry deep in your throat, you begin to respond to me.

“Oh Janeen,” I breathe, and feel as if I will start to cry for joy. I hold your small body close to mine and kiss you over and over. Slowly, we lie down together on the bed — me naked, you still dressed in your jeans and dark blue t-shirt, wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing a long, deep, soulful kiss. You are crying, but your tears now are entirely different from what they were a few minutes ago.

I pull away gently and smile at you as I slowly swing over on top of you, then scoot up and lean over you so that my breasts are near your face. “I love you,” I say. Then I cup my right breast in my hand and say, “Please, Janeen… it’s all right now… go ahead, sweet wonderful Janeen. You’re safe with me now.”

And then you take my breast in your adorable small hands and invite my waiting nipple into the warmth of your mouth. Oh, my God, the pleasure is so intense, and not just physical. I gather your head in my arms, relishing the feel of your hair on my skin as I nurse you.

“Yes, Janeen, oh it feels so good.” I close my eyes and concentrate on suckling you. I feel I am healing you. I am letting all my love flow through me and into you, restoring you, filling you with needed warmth. I begin to rub my hips against your body.

Your suckling becomes more and more urgent until you simply abandon yourself to the joy of the moment, and then you are unabashedly moving from one breast to the other, sucking, nipping, kissing and licking me. I am in ecstasy. I coo my approval and love to you.

After a very long time — and after I have left a very wet spot on your shirt where I’d been straddling you — we part just enough for me to help you to undress. I am glowing with pleasure at the light I see now in your eyes. I have to make love to you. I have to make you mine. Right away.

The feeling of our bare skin mingling is electric and we both cry out in delighted surprise. We love moving against each other, slowly, sensuously. We cover each other in loving kisses.

I don’t think you’ve ever been with a woman before, and your surprised joy ignites my passion. I climb gently atop you, and begin moving against your body in a steady rhythm. We are perfectly synchronized, in total unison and harmony. As our passion increases, I begin to whisper in your delicate ear.

“I love you, Janeen.”

“I treasure you.”

My words are in time with my loving movements, making them part of my lovemaking.

“You’re safe now, you’re with me.”

“Open yourself completely, sis, let me love you completely, like I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Janeen, Janeen, I love you.”

“We’re so close.”

Janeen had begun to thrash beneath me, clearly nearing her first climax as my lover.

“I’m your sister, Janeen,” I purred, tightening my embrace, “and I adore you with all my heart, forever.”

With that, my precious older sister bucked wildly underneath me, and I held her for dear life as she orgasmed, calling out to me in her pleasure. Her joy sealed our bond and I knew we would always be together now, my wildest dream come true. This thought pushed me over the edge and I climaxed — what I can only describe as a heart-gasm, my body expressing the deep excitement and satisfaction of my soul.

Janeen and I lay together, breathing hard, toying with each other’s hair as we slowly recovered.

In the morning, I’d already packed things for us both when my father knocked on the door and, seeing my bags open and full, asked where I thought I was going.

I’m tall and I looked him right in the eye as I told him, “I’m taking Janeen someplace safe.”

“Safe?” he blustered. “What kind of crazy talk—”

I didn’t hear the rest because Janeen and I had swept past him, hand in hand, and I was drinking in the defiant smile she gave him, her strength and beauty fully returned.

I love my sister. I make love to my sister. And it is the most fulfilling thing that I have ever done.

One day in summer I came back to our apartment to find Janeen up on a ladder, placing something over the doorway. It was wooden. It was green.

“It’s a lucky shamrock,” she said to me, smiling her gorgeous smile.

I embraced her. “I’m the lucky one,” I whispered.

The End

By Anne

{ This story was originally posted at the now-defunct Sisters in Love }

I came across this site just a few weeks ago. Before that, I would have never even been remotely interested in what goes on here. Not that I’m not interested in sex, but I don’t spend all that much time thinking about it. If I had seen this kind of thing before, I would have just assumed everyone here to be lonely perverts who couldn’t get sex on their own, so they have to write about it. I would have never been interested in anything like this.

I came here by accident, but curiosity got the better of me, and I started to read some of the stories. Even as I’m writing this, I still can’t believe what I’m doing. I was almost appalled by the topics of stories as I scrolled through them, but given what I’m about to share, perhaps I was just surprised that I wasn’t alone in what I was thinking.

I guess this is actually what I was looking for, but it just wasn’t the forum I was expecting. Even as I read through all the stories, I still don’t see what the attraction is. Do people actually get off on this stuff? I mean, pictures and stuff I guess I understand, but this? It just seems a little weird to me that people sit in front of their computers, pleasuring themselves to this. I was also amazed at the number of stories written about this particular subject. I would have never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that there would be people out there who actually thought about this, let alone partake in it. A few weeks ago, I was in the popular opinion that incest was left to inbred hillbillies, and no normal person would even think about such a thing.

For days I scrolled through endless pay-sites and other perverted crap, trying to seek out advice on the subject, hoping that somewhere, somebody could help me, or us. The more disturbing images of young boys and girls with old men and women that I scrolled through, the more disgusted I got, until I came here. Days of looking at this stuff had me wondering what was on people’s minds.

So if this is so disturbing to me, what was I doing looking at it? I was looking for help, or advice, anything to justify what had happened, but all I got was staged pornography, until I found this site. Like I said, it wasn’t really what I was looking for, but at least it was real. I don’t mean the stories are real, but they were written by real people, and not somebody looking to make a quick buck on some poor slob’s perverted fantasies. The only real “saving grace” was the amount of people, men and women, who seemed to think about this kind of sex. At least it made me feel as if I wasn’t a freak.

Well, maybe I am, but at least I’m not alone, and somehow that makes me feel a little better. Then I got to thinking that maybe if I share my story, somehow that would help me feel as if what happened could be justified. I don’t think it will, but at this point I’m willing to try anything. I guess if you can’t beat ‘em…

Okay, so here goes…

It was a few weeks ago on a Friday night, and I didn’t feel like doing much of anything but vegging out on the couch. I threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, only to find when I got to the couch, my sister obviously had the same idea.

My sister and I get along well, now that we’re older anyway. I guess that’s typical of sisters, and we’re really no exception to the natural order of things. At least we weren’t until that night. Anyway, we had no problem hanging out together, and it wasn’t out of the ordinary for us to do so. We are both very social, and often run in the same circles of people. That’s not to say we’re always together, but you know what I’m saying. Basically we have, or had a very “normal” sibling relationship. Reading through some of these stories, people insinuate that there was always some sort of sexual tension or attraction between siblings growing up. I can safely say that was absolutely never the case with my sister and I. I mean, she’s a pretty girl, but she’s my sister, and I never would have ever thought of anything like that. The thought of it for either of us would have just been inconceivable, at the very least.

Anyway, we were both on the couch watching a movie. My head was at one end and hers at the other. We shared a big crochet blanket between us. She was wearing sweatpants, a shirt and socks, and her hair was pulled back in a clip, just in case that’s relevant. In other words, there was nothing remotely sexual about the situation. It was all pretty standard.

We hung out for a while, just watching the movie and being normal. Every now and again we would shift our positions, trying to remain comfortable, but basically my feet were behind her back, and hers in front of me. After a while our legs were kind of entangled together, but I was really too involved in the movie to even notice. Besides, it was still nothing that I would consider out of the ordinary, so I didn’t really give it any thought.

It was about an hour or so later that my attention was suddenly averted from the movie. I think I was somewhere between sleep when I realized that my foot was nuzzled tightly in my sister’s crotch, and hers in mine. This, of course was not intentional, and I don’t think that either of us had even realized it. The only thing that made me even realize it was the steady pressure on my toes. As my mind began to focus more on what was happening, I noticed the heat growing between her legs, and could have sworn that she was even a little wet. I also noticed that I was feeling the same way. I glanced in her direction, and I could see that her eyes were closed, confirming that she was most likely not aware of what was happening.

I could feel her womanhood through her clothes on my bare foot, and without giving it another thought, I tried to pull myself away from her. My toes curled as I tried to pull my foot out from between her closed legs, and pressed harder into her. At the same time. Her foot pressed harder into me. Her hips pushed forward into my foot, making it harder for me to get away from her. I glanced back at her face, and her expression hadn’t changed, leading me to believe she was asleep. The more I wiggled my foot, trying to free it from her grip, the harder she squeezed her legs together and pressed herself into me. I could actually feel her rubbing herself against my toes, and I could fell her pressing her foot into me. I couldn’t believe what was happening, and at the same time, her foot was stimulating me as well. I had to stop this.

I tried to sit up so I could get better leverage to pull my foot from her grip, when she started intentionally wiggling her toes into my crotch. Her toe massaged my stiffening clitoris and sent a jolt through my body, causing me to grab onto her foot. I slid back into my original position, and to my dismay, I let out a small groan of approval as her toes continued to stimulate my clit.

Her hips were now moving steadily against my toes, and her foot was working on me, bringing me to orgasm. She began to moan, and it became obvious what was happening. I held her foot in my hand, originally intending to move it, but for some reason, I held her steady as her toes continued to massage me. I began to react to her probing toes, and returned the favor to her. She moaned loudly once again, and my head fell back on the arm of the couch. I was completely giving in to my impending orgasm. I felt my sister sit herself up slightly, and her foot job became more intentional on my aching clit. She grabbed on to my bare foot, sliding it higher on herself, moaning her approval as I must have made better contact to her. There was no doubt she was awake now, and I didn’t care. My orgasm was building, and It was too late to stop.

Our hips were pumping as we held each other’s foot against ourselves. We were both close to orgasm, and we wiggled our toes against one another, coaxing the inevitable. Suddenly, I could feel her pussy contracting against my foot. She let out this low, deep moan, and her body seemed to stop moving. I felt her muscles pounding against my foot as a rush of warm wetness soaked my toes.

Suddenly, my own orgasm gripped my body, and I felt as if I couldn’t speak. I had never experienced anything so powerful, and if I had the ability to reason at that moment, I may have been scared at the complete lack of control over my own body. I could feel this warm gush of fluids emerge from between my legs, and my whole body shook. I could feel myself being jostled around as my sister’s spastic movements shook my body. It was unlike anything I could have ever imagined as my body convulsed with pleasure. I’m still not sure of what it was exactly that I had experienced. This was unlike any orgasm I’ve ever felt. My body was locked up, as though I was being electrocuted, as this immense pleasure coursed through me. It lasted for several minutes, and felt as though it would never end. One after the other, this intense pounding pleasure gripped my body, until it finally vanished, leaving my whole body twitching uncontrollably. Even after it passed, I still felt as if it wasn’t finished, and I felt as though I was on the verge of yet another orgasm.

Our eyes never made contact as our bodies tried to recover from what we had experienced. I had almost forgotten that I wasn’t alone until my sister hurried passed me. I didn’t even feel her move away from me. My pussy still burned as though I needed release, and my fingers immediately went down my shorts. My shorts were absolutely soaked through, and it was as if a gallon of cum had escaped my body. Everything below my waist was soaked, and my fingers glided over my still throbbing clit with ease. It was so big and hard, and I never felt myself like that before. It was almost foreign to me, but I was too far gone to care. My fingers pressed against my swollen gland, and I immediately shook with another orgasm, this time returning me back to reality. My moans of pleasure turned to sobs as my eyes filled with tears. I lay on the couch with my hand down my pants, sobbing hysterically as the reality of what just happened ripped through my conscience.

I didn’t move for what seemed like hours as I cried hysterically at what just happened. Finally the shame of what I just did hit me, and I tried to get as far away from where it all happened as fast as I could. I somehow made my way to my room and fell on my bed. It was as though every bit of energy was drained from my body, and it took everything I had just to make the ten-foot walk to my room. I was numb, and I couldn’t feel any part of my body, except my swollen sex. It seemed as though everything was five-times bigger. I think I must have passed out as soon as I hit my pillow. The only comforting thought that went through my mind was that whatever guilt or shame I was feeling my sister was sure to be feeling too, and at least I wasn’t alone. I don’t know why that made me feel any better, but somehow it did.

The next few days, my sister and I avoided each other like the plague. There was no way I could face her, and I was sure she was feeling the same thing. I had so many things going through my head, that I couldn’t focus on just one of them long enough to sort them out. I was disgusted by our actions, and was sure that our relationship had been completely destroyed from that moment on. After all, there was no way we could face each other again.

The other thing that was disturbing me was how powerful my feelings were. Every time I thought of her, my stomach fluttered, and it terrified me. What did it mean? Was it nausea or elation? I kept reflecting on the feelings I had experienced, and how I never felt anything so powerful, so wonderful in my whole life. Was it just a freak thing, or was it my sister that caused them? I questioned my sexuality, and my feelings for my sister until I felt like I was on the brink of insanity. What scared me the most was that the only person who could understand, the only person who I could talk to about it was the one person I couldn’t bear to face. I actually had to laugh at the irony when that realization crashed onto me.

I knew I couldn’t let another day pass without facing up to what had gone on between us. I tried to rationalize the whole thing by diminishing what had happened. It was so stupid when I thought about what had actually happened, and I couldn’t believe that it was causing me so much distress. I wondered if my sister was even thinking any of this. Maybe to her it was no big deal, and I was agonizing over this all alone. I needed to know.

Just as I was getting up enough courage to seek her out, there was a knock at my door. I opened it up to find my sister there, looking down at the floor. It was almost disturbing to see her in the state that she was in. I had never once seen her like this, and it frightened me a little. She was my big sister still, but something was different, and I’m sure she sensed it too. Without a word I grabbed her arm and pulled her into my room, closing the door behind her.

We just stood there without speaking for several minutes. She was still looking straight at the floor, holding her arms tightly around her body. Her normally beautiful hair hung straggled around her as she stared at her feet. She looked like I felt, and it was obvious that we had been thinking the exact same things.

I opened my mouth to speak, still unsure of what I was going to say when her body started to shake and I heard her sniff. It became apparent that she was crying. Just as I moved closer to her, she fell into me, sobbing hysterically. We held on to each other and cried. I hated to admit it, but it was probably the closest we’d ever been at that moment. Even though it was pain and confusion that we were both feeling, it was somehow beautiful. Her body was comforting next to mine, and as we cried together, it was as If we were helping each other. It made me feel as though everything was okay. At least, everything that had happened was okay. Now the only question was where we were going to go from here. I don’t think either one of us could have answered that question, or predicted the answer. We silently agreed to see where we wound up.

Her head rested on my shoulder, and mine on hers. I felt her warm tears soaking through my T-shirt, and it sent chills through my body. I suddenly became aware of her body pressed against mine. Our thin T-shirts were the only thing between us, and I could imagine her nakedness against mine, so much so that I could almost feel it. Something about that thought stirred something inside me.

She left my room without either one of us speaking a word, but somehow, I felt better, as I’m sure she did as well. We could just forget the whole thing ever happened, and maybe we could get away with that.

That night, I was in bed, watching television in my own room. I wasn’t really paying any attention to it, but I was too tired to do anything else. I wasn’t really thinking about anything, enjoying the rest my mind was getting after it had been in overdrive for the past few days. Just as I was dozing off, there was a knock at my door again. I called for whoever it was to come in. It was just my mother, seeing if everything was okay. Obviously mine and my sister’s recent behavior had not gone unnoticed by her, and she was trying to find out what was wrong. I told her that I just wasn’t feeling well. She mumbled something about my sister’s similar condition, and how there must be something going around. Obviously she had already questioned her and she gave my mom the same excuse. I knew that she was just trying to make sure everything was alright between us in her interest to keep harmony in the family. I assured her that we were okay, and she seemed to accept it. She asked if I wanted to join her and my father for dinner and maybe a movie, but I declined. Apparently, so had my sister. She told me to get some rest, and she’d see me later.

I heard them leave, and shortly after there was yet another knock at my door. It could only be one person, so I called for her to come in. She walked into my room and sat down at the foot of my bed. She asked about mom’s line of questioning, confirming to me that she had indeed received the same treatment. It really wasn’t important, but it was nice that we were talking, seemingly without any weirdness between us. At least I was drawing that conclusion until my sister changed the subject.

She lay herself next to me on the bed and put her hand on mine. I felt myself shake nervously at her touch. Kind of like when someone tells you to remain still, and you feel your body moving, just because you’re more aware of it. I held my breath, and avoided looking at her as she spoke. I was more aware of her body next to mine, and her hand touching mine that I wasn’t paying any attention to what she was saying. Suddenly, without warning, she kissed me. Not like a sisterly kiss, but an intimate kiss. Without thinking, as if it were a natural reaction, I kissed her back. It was passionate. Tender and loving, and probably the best kiss I had ever felt. Within minutes she was in my bed, and our hands were grabbing for each other, pulling clothes off as we kissed like two lovers.

It was almost as if I was dreaming as we touched and tasted each other. It was the first time that I had ever truly made love. Neither one of us had ever even considered sex with another woman before, but it happened naturally. We seemed to know exactly what to do, and it was the most perfect thing ever. There was no awkwardness, no shame or guilt, just love. It was incredible. We experienced sexual pleasures beyond what we had previously experienced. Whatever was happening between us was beyond anything I could have imagined, and after that night, there is no way we can ever go back to the way things were.

So that’s how I wound up here. I need to know where we are headed from here. How can this work? My sister is now my lover, and it’s the most intense thing I have ever experienced. So maybe we are sick and perverted, but we’re happy. I guess no one really has the answers, so we’ll just have to see where this goes. After writing this, I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter anyway, as long as we are together. I guess I should never judge anyone for what they are thinking, because you never know when you’ll find yourself in the same situation!

The End

By Cassie

Justine’s hands cupped Kelly’s face between them, framing her beauty as the two women kissed.

“Oh, my sister,” whispered Kelly, breathing between kisses. “You make me feel so alive.”

Justine responded with more kisses to her twin sister’s face. She felt the same — knew that somehow, being with Kelly completed her, fulfilled her every sexual desire. And right then, she wanted more.

Rolling to one side, she motioned for her sister to get up on all fours. Kelly did this while Justine reached down to a bedside cabinet and felt around inside, finally withdrawing a long, pink vibrator she often used.

Positioning herself behind and to one side of her sister, Justine played the sex toy over Kelly’s pussy, teasing and prodding before gently sliding the plastic shaft deep inside the juicy hole.

“Justine! Oh yes, yes….”

Reacting to her own unbridled arousal, Justine lowered herself toward her sister’s hips and, slowly fucking her sister with the buzzing vibrator, closed her mouth over Kelly’s spread anus, flicking her tongue at the soft, puckered rosebud.

The reaction was instantaneous as Kelly whipped her head round to look behind her. “Jus-tine!”

But the rest of her body didn’t protest, and Justine gave in to her desire as she tongued her sister’s ass, flashing the vibrator in and out of Kelly’s increasingly wet pussy all the while.

Suddenly craving a taste, Justine pulled the vibrator free and sucked the end of it before replacing it between Kelly’s thighs, once more using it to invade her sister. She repeated this action several times, sharing the glory of intimate sex as she rimmed Kelly and groped the woman’s breasts with her free hand.

Eventually, Kelly turned her head once more to speak to her sister, this time in a less urgent, but insistent, way. “Justine, I want to see you. I want to hold you.”

Justine flopped back on the bed, giggling — her mind a whirl of emotions, passions and thoughts she could barely comprehend. Kelly joined her and the two identical twins held and caressed each other until the fire of their passion merely simmered between them.

At length, after much exhaustive kissing and probing with eager fingers, Justine gazed at Kelly with half-lidded eyes. “Do you want to try something?” she asked.

Kelly was incredulous. “There’s more to try!?”

Justine giggled again and held her sister tightly for a moment, relishing in the softness of her slim, naked form. “Oh, Kelly, there’s a whole world of things we haven’t tried yet!” she said. “This is only the very beginning. The aperitif.”

Kelly hugged Justine back in almost the same fashion, then flicked the stray hair to one side and looked at her sister. “Yes,” she said, simply. “Whatever it is, I’ll try it. With you, anything.”

They kissed again on impulse, marvelling in that almost-exactly identical closeness of lips and tongues, then Justine rolled away and fumbled inside the bedside cabinet — this time, with both hands. Her backside was facing Kelly, and the twin sister took the advantage to trace circles round and round the tight perfect buttocks with her fingertips.

“That tickles!” said Justine, with all the complaint of a very willing victim. Soon, she resurfaced from her exploration of the cabinet, brandishing a long, snake-like dildo with faux-penis heads at either end. To Kelly, it looked slightly monstrous.

“I won this,” Justine said, grinning evilly, “at a lingerie party two years ago.”

“Won it?”

“Mmm-hmm. I won first place in the stuffing contest.”

“Do I want to know what that was?” said Kelly.

Justine barely stifled the embarrassed smirk she’d been trying to hide. “Let’s just say it involved a lot of novelty candy and a lot of relaxation!”

“Oh, my God!” gasped Kelly.

Justine reached behind her for a tube of lubricant. “You ready to see if it fits?”

“We’re doing this together, right?” Kelly said nervously.

Justine giggled, then motioned for Kelly to sit facing her, legs open and crossed over hers in a scissor-fashion. Then, gently inserting one lubed end of the double-dildo into her own pussy, gripped the other end and began to slowly feed it into her sister.

At first, there was still some length of the ribbed snake-like dildo remaining between them but, as each relaxed into a rhythm of masturbation with the toy, the length of it shortened and shortened until each woman could feel the grinding of her sister’s pussy against her own, speared by each end of the huge dildo as they both gripped each other’s hands for support. They rocked back and forth, rubbing and gyrating with the fullness of the dildo inside them.

At one point, Justine was unable to make eye contact with her sister, she was too intently concentrating on the movement and rhythm between her hips as the double-dildo gyrated inside her. She could feel Kelly’s smooth vulva rubbing between her legs, feel the tight grip of her sister’s hand as Kelly clung on to her in their sexual tryst.

It was the sharp intake of breath that made Justine open her eyes. Kelly’s shrill, almost pained cry struck a note of fear in Justine’s heart. But when she looked up, she saw that it was that shocking moment of unexpected ecstasy that prompted Kelly to cry out. Looking at her was like gazing at her mirror image, and Justine wondered if that was how she too appeared at the point of orgasm.

Kelly bucked on the double-dildo, tightly clutching Justine’s hands. She’d never, ever before felt so sexually fulfilled. And she was hungry for more of the same feeling. Hungry for that ecstasy she’d only yet known since being with Justine. And, she knew with a growing realisation, she was hungry for her own sister. Yes, desperate for her. Not just a look-alike. Not because she had suddenly come out of the closet. All she knew, within her heart, was that she wanted Justine and only Justine.

“Oh God!” she blurted out, trembling from her belly downwards as her body convulsed in orgasm, then gradually relaxed.

Slowly, with infinite care, Justine withdrew one end of the dildo from her sister’s pussy and ran her fingers up and down the now free end of the shaft. She knew that she had her orgasm yet to come, and knew what she wanted to get it. Only a moment’s hesitation stopped her. But she knew that she could trust Kelly with anything, and her sexual boundaries were something Kelly would surely come to test and explore.

She lay back, one end of the dildo still inside her pussy, the other in her hand. “I need this bit inside me, too,” she breathed, catching her twin’s eye.

“But — but how?” Kelly stammered.

“In my ass. I need to feel both ends inside me. Please, Kelly.”

Justine didn’t wait for her shocked sister to say or do anything, but curled the dildo inwards and began rubbing the slick, rounded end against her anus. Closing her eyes to relax, she began to work the second end of the toy into her rectum, hearing herself catch her own breath as the rounded head squeezed into her hole.

The position was awkward, and she had to hold on to both ends of the toy to keep either one from slipping out. But the sensation of being filled, the feeling of being penetrated at both wonderfully sensitive holes — this was something that turned Justine on immensely.

She felt Kelly’s hands on the tops of her upraised knees. “Do you — do you like that, then? In your… bum?” Kelly said nervously.

“Mmm. Agh. Oh, yes. Oh God, it feels good, Kelly. But I c-can’t hold on to it for very long.”

As she said it, she felt the pussy end of the dildo begin to slip out. As it flicked out and over her swollen clitoris, she felt Kelly move in close toward her and take hold of the toy. Justine looked down across her body and watched in amazement as Kelly began to suck the free end of the dildo, filling her mouth with her twin’s flavour.

Justine clenched the anal end of the dildo, trying to make sense of the feelings she was now experiencing.

“Do you want to keep that end in?” Kelly said, eyes wide, but still holding onto the double dildo.

“Yes,” Justine breathed. “Oh, yes.”

Kelly nodded and, kneeling close between her sister’s legs, began to work the dildo slowly in and out of Justine’s anus. As she did this, she bent her head low and began to flick her tongue at the pink flesh of her lover’s pussy. Kelly filled more and more of her with the dildo — three, four, then at least five inches up inside her ass.

Justine arched her back — she could take no more, but wanted to. She clamped her hands down on her sister’s head as Kelly feasted on her pussy, licking and sucking with a renewed energy.

Kelly knelt up to look at Justine, concentrating on pumping the dildo in and out of her twin’s asshole. “You like that, don’t you?” she said, biting her lip and breathing quick and fast.

“Yes! Yessss!” breathed Justine, surrendering her body to Kelly’s wonderful touch.

“You dirty little bitch,” Kelly said, playfully. “You dirty little—” But her words were lost as she dived back down to kiss, lick and suck at her sister’s pussy.

Justine’s orgasm was sudden and monstrous. She felt as though something inside her was coming to pieces. Never, in all her days as a sexual creature, had she ever experienced something so powerful.

Kelly began to tug the dildo out of Justine’s ass, knowing that at the peak of orgasm her pussy would be especially sensitive.

But Justine stopped her. “No! No. Gently, gently. Always gently with the ass,” she said.

Kelly nodded and slowly withdrew the dildo from her sister’s rectum. Dropping the sex toy over the side of the bed, Kelly experimented with a touch of her fingertip against Justine’s slightly gaping anus.

“I ain’t never done nothing like that before,” she said. “I ain’t never even thought of it.”

Justine smiled and, reaching out, drew her sister up toward her until the two were lying side by side. Ignoring the sticky fingers and swollen sex organs, they cuddled playfully with each other, marvelling in the soft touch of each other’s bare skin. Justine traced her fingertips across Kelly’s face, lingering on her full red lips as Kelly tickled her fingernail with her tongue.

“I’ve never done that before either,” said Justine, truthfully. She had no doubt that her sexual experiences were greater than her sister’s, but also knew that there was so much more she could, and would do with Kelly. More than she could have previously imagined.

“I love you,” she said, not knowing where the words came from, but meaning them from the bottom of her heart.

Kelly smiled sleepily, as though the sex they’d had was a just-completed marathon. “Love you too, sis,” she murmured.

They held each other for a long while, exchanging soft strokes of each other’s arms, thighs and shoulders. Finally, Justine felt Kelly drift into a deep slumber.

For her part, she stayed awake quite a bit longer, gazing at this newfound love, this soulmate and sexual partner. Again and again, these words spun through her tired mind. She’s my sister. She’s my lover. She’s my girlfriend.

A whirlwind of thoughts took her off to sleep, wrapped in Kelly’s loving arms.

Epilogue

It was the Wednesday after the day Kelly first came round to visit Justine’s flat, and the two flame-haired sisters had scarcely left each other’s company.

Justine knew that her life had entered a new chapter. She found herself in a situation she could never have predicted, knew a happiness she could never have dared to hope for. Her heart sang whenever she was in her sister’s company. She marvelled again and again at how much she could love and be loved by this wonderful woman. They shared more and more of their lives and histories with each other, compared wishes, desires and ambitions at every intimate level.

And they had sex. More sex than either had ever enjoyed in such a brief time. And it wasn’t all carnal, penetrative sex like past boyfriends had subjected them to. Sometimes it was nothing more than cuddling naked on the floor, watching TV and exploring each other with the gentlest of fingertips. It was like the first few days of a wonderful dream that they shared with each other. And it quickly taught them two things.

The first was that they never wanted to be apart from one another. Their hearts and bodies yearned for each other in a way that neither could deny. But their mutual love also taught them that they had to be careful. Already, neighbours and people close to Justine could see that there was something unusual about this identical vision of Justine who had appeared from nowhere.

And so the sisters made plans to move. Sell their respective properties in Ashford and Brighton and move somewhere else, somewhere that they could live with each other and build anew. Build new friendships and new careers, but always with each other. And, perhaps, with some old friends as well.

*****

Justine adjusted the webcam and turned to her sister.

“Are you ready?” she said, arching her eyebrows for effect. Kelly nodded. “No fucking this up, okay, Kelly?”

“Jus-tine…” Kelly moaned, rolling her eyes. “You made me practise it enough, right?”

“Yeah, well. I just don’t want it to go wrong, especially as — oh, bugger! Look at the time, come on! She’ll be online now.”

Kelly sighed, lightly squeezing her sister’s arm. “Relax, love.”

Justine settled herself in to the computer chair and fired up the machine, adjusting the webcam for a wider-field view. As the internet sprang into life, she clicked onto the various things she wanted and, after a few moments, a live video window popped up on one side of her monitor. An image fuzzed into focus and Justine, knowing the same would be happening on the other person’s screen, presented her best ‘sad’ face.

“Hi Justine! Long time no speak. How’s that left ear?” said Jan as the image of her English friend filled the video window. The last time she heard from Justine, the English girl was very upset, having found her sister, then lost her in some way. She hoped that, in some small way, the Sister in Love website had been of some comfort to Justine.

So with all that racing through her mind, Jan wanted to put on a brave face and sound cheery. But already she could see that Justine looked less than happy. The pretty English redhead was barely keeping the tears from her eyes as she struggled to raise her own smile.

“My—muh—my ear’s okay,” she said.

“Justine, my friend, what’s wrong? You look awful.”

At that, the image of the flame-haired woman pixellated as she broke down and cried.

“Oh Jan!” she said, through the tears. “Jan, everything’s gone wrong and it’s all your fault!”

“My fault? How?”

“Well, it was you who introduced me to Sister in Love, and to all these thoughts and ideas I had. And it was you who encouraged me to find my sister, and then I did and now I’ve lost her and all because of you!”

There was anger in Justine’s voice but, more than that, there was hurt. Jan could almost feel it, and she felt sorry for the girl, even if the anger was unjustified.

“Justine, please. Talk to me. You said that you found your sister, but now she’s lost?”

“Yes! Yes, damn it. I found her and lost her, and it’s all down to you!”

Jan rubbed her eyes as she tried to pull her thoughts together. There must be some way of talking to Justine without further upsetting her.

“Justine, wait. I’m sorry if I said anything, but I don’t know what you mean. How have you lost your sister? Has she — has she — I’m sorry to even mention this — but has she passed away?”

There was a short burst of noise from the English girl’s side and something almost sounding like a bark of… laughter? But no, Justine looked worse than ever.

“No! She’s not dead, Jan! She’s lost. I’ve lost her.”

“Lost? But how?”

“Well,” said the English girl, gathering herself together and combing back her hair with her fingers, “you see, I put her down here somewhere this morning, but now I can’t find her.”

“What? You put her down somewhere? I don’t under—”

As she said this, a second, identical image appeared in the back of Justine’s video window. The identical image of Justine smiled broadly, gave a broad wink, then placed a finger in front of her lips in the universal ‘Shhhh’ sign.

Her fears now banished, Jan smiled, ready to burst out laughing.

Meanwhile, Justine was still acting as though her world had ended. “I’ve lost her, Jan. Lost her! Can’t you help me to find her?”

Jan watched as Justine’s obvious twin planted a soft kiss onto the English woman’s left ear, then moved away.

Justine spun round, as if in shock. “Wha—? Who’s there!?”

Justine’s twin reappeared on the other side and blew softly into her right ear. Justine looked straight into the camera, appearing every inch the desperate woman.

“Help me, Obi Jan Kenobi! You’re my only hope!”

Jan giggled. Couldn’t help herself. And, after a moment or two, the video feed showed the faces of Justine and her incredibly identical twin sister side by side. The two were smiling.

“Hey, Jan!” said Justine. “Hope you liked the show. And now, I’d like to introduce my twin sister, Kelly.”

“Hi, Kelly.”

“Hi, Jan. Justine’s told me loads about you.”

“I hope she lied and it was all good.”

“It was very good,” said Justine, cutting in, “and all absolutely true.”

The two sisters grinned at each other and then, to Jan’s genuine surprise, kissed each other briefly on the lips.

“We just wanted to say thanks, Jan. Thanks for everything. We’re not sure where things will go from here, but we’ve found each other and never want to be apart.”

“Yeah, thanks, Jan.”

Jan was literally speechless, and felt a tear begin to travel down unbidden from her eye. She felt her heart pulling strings she didn’t know she had, and was very glad of it.

“We’ve got to go now,” said Justine, “but we wanted to say we’ll be in touch soon, and that — hey — some stories can have a happy ending.”

The two girls kissed once more in front of the camera, this time a slower kiss with more passion. Justine reached out and cancelled the video feed, leaving that image burned into Jan’s mind.

Jan slowly shook her head, a warm smile on her lips as she stared at the after-image on the blank computer screen.

“Brit girls are so sweet,” she sighed.

The End

By Sarah

{ This story was originally posted at the now-defunct Sisters in Love }

My sister Allison and I have always been close, even though there’s a seven-year age difference between us. I suspect that’s mostly because Allie was always mature for her age, while I tended to be immature, so it never struck me as odd that I enjoyed hanging out with my ten-year-old sister when I was in high school. And even as I got older—and eventually at least a little more mature—she always seemed to be no more than two or three years behind me in most ways. And it helped, I guess, that we’ve always looked so much like each other. For a long time Allie was just a slightly smaller and sweeter version of me, without tits.

By the time she was seventeen she had caught up to me in height. And judging by the way she looked in her sweaters when I came home to visit after graduating from college, she’d caught up to me in every other area, as well. My hips might have been a little wider, and her butt might have been a bit smaller and more perfect, but in most respects we had become virtual twins, separated at birth by a mere seven years.

But between the two of us, she would still always be the sweet one.

After I graduated I took a job less than half an hour from Georgetown, where I’d gone to school, which also happened to be about three thousand miles away from my parents and from Allie. On a meager budget while I started my climb up the corporate ladder, I could only fly home once or twice a year, at most, and so Allie and I could really only stay in touch by phone and by letter, and then eventually by email once my parents finally broke down and bought her a computer when she was a junior in high school. I was glad we could still be close, but it bothered me that we could never really spend a lot of time together.

By the time Allie was a senior and ready to start deciding where she wanted to go to college, I had a slightly bigger apartment and a dog that was almost as big as me. I’d fallen in love twice and fallen out of love both times, and I’d bought Escher—my mastiff—after the second time. I hadn’t exactly grown bitter or hopelessly disillusioned with the possibility of having both a great career and a great relationship at the same time, but I had discovered that it wasn’t a catastrophe to be alone. Escher was less a substitute boyfriend than a happy, friendly face who wouldn’t make faces at me if I decided I wanted to be in a bad mood from time to time.

I did eventually meet someone else, and I was even starting to think that it might be serious—but I wasn’t rushing anything. Nick and I were taking it slow and giving each other as much space as we both needed, and I was happy with the arrangement (for the moment, at least). That didn’t mean I was never lonely, though, and so when Allie told me she was going to apply to Georgetown, I was delighted.

After she scheduled her interview with the college, she wanted to come out by herself and stay with me—at my suggestion—but our parents decided it would be more fun if they all came out to visit. So they did, and it really was fun, and it was great to be able to spend time with Allie again, if only for a weekend—but I had planned to take her around to a few of the parties and really show her around campus, so she could get a feel for the area and the whole college experience, and now that was out of the question.

Just after Christmas she found out she was accepted at all four schools to which she’d applied, including my alma mater. Together, Allie and I were able to convince my parents that she should stay with me over her spring break, as a way of helping her decide which school was right for her. I told my boss I was taking a week’s vacation, and then I started happily planning what we’d do over Allie’s—and my—vacation.

On the day of her arrival I drove to National Airport, and since I wasn’t allowed to meet her at the gate—thanks to the brave new world of heightened security—I waited for her instead by the baggage carousel. When she finally rounded the corner and came into view, my jaw nearly fell to the floor.

She was, simply, one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen, more beautiful and more mature-looking than I remembered even from my last visit home—which had only been three months ago. I guess I’d never really looked at her like this before, like a stranger and like an adult. She had her thick, luxurious black hair pulled back to keep it out of her face, and she was wearing a simple white blouse and a faded pair of blue jeans, but she looked positively ethereal. I looked around me and I saw at least five guys—ranging in age from fifteen to about fifty—looking at her and obviously seeing the same thing I was seeing.

Allie herself seemed blissfully unaware of the stir she was causing. Finally she saw me, and she broke into a huge, uncomplicated grin, and she was once again the happy and innocent kid I remembered. Seconds later we were hugging each other, and I was saying, “When did you get so beautiful?”

She shrugged happily. “Genetic accident,” she said. “Where’s Escher? And where’s Nick?”

“He’s not allowed in the airport, silly. But he said to tell you ‘Hello.'”

“Escher?” she asked. “Or Nick?”

“Both,” I answered. “But Nick’s out of town this week, so you can’t flirt with him.” I took her hand and guided her toward a pair of chairs not far from the carousel, and we spent the next fifteen minutes catching up on things while the rest of the passengers claimed their bags. Eventually we were the only ones left, and Allie’s two small suitcases were the only objects left on the carousel. We each grabbed one and made our way to the parking garage.

D.C. is nice in the spring if you can ignore the crippling allergens. I rolled down the car windows and Allie put her head back on the seat, still talking but obviously tired from the long trip. She’d eaten a bit on the plane and didn’t want to stop for dinner, so I simply drove us home.

Some endless time later, long after the sun had gone down—getting anywhere in or around the nation’s capital is a time-consuming chore—I pulled the car into my driveway and shut off the ignition. Allie had fallen asleep as we were driving, so I took both bags and went to unlock the door. Then I let Escher out very quickly, so he wouldn’t jump all over Allie when she walked in the door, and finally I returned to the car and woke her up. She smiled when she saw me, and said, “Weird dreams. Are we home?”

“Home,” I agreed. “Can you make it into the house?”

“I’m a big girl,” she said. She yawned and then crawled out of the car, and she managed to make it to the door without my assistance.

Escher was already barking to come inside as soon as I closed the door, so I went to get him while Allie used the bathroom.

When I returned, Allie was out of the bathroom and was staring in open wonder at the object that was taking up most of my living room. She had obviously picked up her bags, intending to put them away, but she’d let them fall to the floor again as her jaw fell open in disbelief. Without turning her head, she said, very slowly, “That looks like… it looks like a….”

“It is,” I said, smiling at her profile. “Remember I always told you I’d get a Bösendorfer?”

She let Escher jump all over her and give her a series of wet, sloppy kisses, and then she pushed him off her and walked up to the big, imposing black piano. She ran her fingers very gently across the keys, without causing the hammers to strike. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “But how…?”

“I found someone selling it online. It’s about ninety years old, so it wasn’t too horribly expensive… but don’t tell Mom and Dad yet. It probably cost more than their first house.”

“Did you have it tuned yet?” she asked, finally looking at me.

“Just a few days ago. You can play it—it’s not a museum piece.”

Allie shook her head. “I’m too tired… but maybe tomorrow. I just want to lie down on the couch for, like, thirty-six hours… But could you play for me? Please?”

“It’ll keep you awake,” I argued. “If you want to sleep, just sleep. We can both play it tomorrow.”

“Sarah, stop being mean. Can’t you coddle me a little?”

I laughed and finally agreed to play. I cleared off the sofa and found her a pillow and blanket, and she seemed to be falling asleep even as her body descended onto the pillow. I went into the kitchen and brought her back a tall glass of water filled with ice cubes, knowing she’d wake up thirsty before too long, and then I returned to the kitchen and extracted an Italian Barolo from my modest wine rack. I poured myself a glass, took a long, decadent sip, and then walked across the room to the piano bench. Escher saw where I was headed and found a comfortable spot underneath the piano, presumably so he could reach my toes quickly if he felt the need to lick me.

Since Allie was sleeping I didn’t want to play anything that would disturb her too much. I looked through my sheet music, and finally settled on Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Song of India”. I started playing and very quickly lost myself in the instrument’s beautiful tone, and in the song’s rather moving, uncomplicated beauty. I had the windows open, and a faint breeze was making the curtains dance as I played, and in my imagination it was the notes that were rustling the fabric, drifting through the room.

When I was finished, I moved on to Debussy’s “Reverie” and first “Arabesque”, pausing between each song to take a few more sips from the wine glass. Then “The Nearness of You”, one of Allie’s favorites, and by the time I was finished with “Stardust”, my glass was empty and my hands were starting to get tired. I silently cursed my piano teacher for not beating me when I refused to learn the proper wrist positioning, and then I quietly closed the keyboard cover and walked around to the sofa, looking down at Allie.

She was smiling sleepily in the near darkness of the room. “Thank you, maestro… or would it be maestress? Sounds like mistress….” Her voice trailed off as I made my way into the kitchen, and she was still talking, half-asleep and not making a terrible amount of sense, when I returned with two glasses of wine. I pushed her legs aside so I could sit down at the end of the sofa, and put her glass beside her head on the coffee table.

“I knew there was a reason I flew out here,” she murmured, sitting up enough to drink the wine. She drank almost half the glass immediately, and then set it back down on the table. “Yum,” she said.

“A born sommelier.” I laughed. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

She slid back down on the sofa, smiling guiltily. “Would it be awful if we just stayed here tonight? And watched television, maybe? Or you could watch television… and I could fall asleep with my head in your lap?”

“Of course we can stay home,” I said immediately. “But you haven’t slept in my lap since you were ten years old, Allie.”

She yawned, then said, “Oh, please, Sarah? Please….” The word became a long, drawn-out whine, and finally I laughed again and said I wouldn’t argue if she wanted to regress a little for one night.

We talked for a few more minutes about home-town gossip, and we both gave Escher some much-needed attention while we finished our wine and enjoyed the cool spring evening. Then Allie got up and brought her bags into the guest bedroom, while I turned on the television and tried to find something interesting to watch. By the time she came back out, dressed in a silky white nightgown, I had settled on an old Cary Grant/Ingrid Bergman movie.

“That nightgown was too small for you a year ago,” I said, as Allie came around to the sofa. “I can’t believe Dad even lets you wear it around the house.”

“He doesn’t,” she admitted, and then another yawn escaped her. “Sorry… I know it’s too small but it’s my favorite. It makes me happy.”

“We’ll buy you a new one while we’re here,” I promised. “Now get out of the way. You’re blocking my view of Cary Grant’s head.”

She slid down onto the sofa and rested her head in my lap, facing toward the screen. Ingrid Bergman was drunk and behind the wheel of her car, and she was doing her best to wipe the smug look off Cary Grant’s face by driving too fast and swerving from one side of the highway to another. It was funny to think that drunk driving could seem romantic in the forties. I was about to say something to Allie about it when I realized she was already snoring, very lightly, into my lap.

Well, so much for us bonding tonight. I put my hand on her head and began stroking her hair very gently as she drifted into a deeper sleep, and I let Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant carry me with them to South America, where a dangerous assignment awaited all three of us.

At some point I must have drifted off to sleep, too. When I woke up I still had my hand resting on Allie’s head, but the movie must have already ended because Doris Day was now on the screen. I wasn’t in the mood for her—Ingrid Bergman had a certain dark and elegant eroticism to her that I loved, and it was hard to switch from her to bright, innocent Doris Day. So I switched channels until I found Conan O’Brien.

Allie was in the same position on the couch, except that she had turned her head away from the television so that she was facing my stomach instead. She made a happy purring sound in her sleep when she felt me stroking her hair again, making me smile.

Looking down at her, I saw that her nightgown had ridden up to the very tops of her thighs. Maybe because of the wine I’d had earlier, I found myself staring at the backs of her thighs, and my neck and the top of my chest were starting to feel flushed. I had a sudden urge to put my hand on her, to feel her skin under my fingers.

I shook my head to dispel the thoughts, and looked back up at the television. Conan O’Brien was about halfway through his monologue, but I had the sound down so low that I couldn’t hear any of it. I kept watching it anyway. Ten minutes later I realized I’d gone back to staring at my sister’s thighs without even being aware of it.

Allie’s legs were slightly apart on the couch, and as I watched she moved her hips just a bit, trying to get more comfortable in her sleep. Her thighs were too far away for me to reach without knocking her off my lap, so instead I put my hand on her back just below her shoulder blades, and I started massaging her very gently. She made a contented little sleep noise and I felt her relax even more, nestling more snugly into my lap. I kept moving my hand, and all the while I was looking at the shape of her body, the way the small of her back blended so perfectly into the curves of her butt, the way her thighs looked soft and vulnerable despite the firmness of her muscles.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but suddenly I was tugging very gently on Allie’s nightgown, exposing the bottom of her little white panties. Her own bottom was wonderfully round, and as much as I had wanted to caress her thighs before, now I had a maddening desire to slide my fingers across her ass and across the smooth, soft fabric of her panties. And maybe… since I was already down there… to slip my hand underneath.

Now my face was getting flushed, and the thought came to me that not only was I lusting after a woman, but the woman happened to be my baby sister. I’ve been curious about girls before, but the most I ever did was kiss my roommate once in college, when we were both drunk on champagne just after finals. (It lasted about fifteen seconds and it seemed very innocent and surrealistic and sensual, and then she put her hand between my thighs and we both suddenly looked at each other and got freaked out, and that was the end of it.)

I guess I should have felt mortified, now, but it didn’t feel lecherous to me: it was just that she looked so soft and beautiful, and inviting. I pulled the nightgown up even more, and this time I had to tug harder because her body was holding it down, so I did it slowly. I was rewarded, a few seconds later, with the sight of Allie’s ass, glowing faintly in the dim light reflected by the television. Her panties were thin and almost transparent, and they didn’t quite cover the cleft of her ass completely.

As I looked at it, I had a sudden and graphic picture of a cock sliding into her, spreading open her tight, cute little butt while I watched. I wondered if she’d ever taken a cock that way, or if she’d ever fantasized about it, maybe even stuck a dildo up inside her ass as she played the fantasy out in her mind.

I could feel my pussy tingling, and it didn’t help that Allie’s head was resting against it, or that I could feel her warm, relaxed breath on my stomach. I moved my eyes back to the screen, suddenly angry with myself for what I’d been thinking. My whole body was becoming tense, and it felt ridiculous.

But it was as if I’d become possessed, and within a minute or two I was looking back down at her, and I had pulled up her nightgown far enough to see the long, smooth line of her back, which—almost magically—drew my eyes down, to the small of her back and then to the little dimples at the top of her butt.

Suddenly Allie shivered in her sleep, and I quickly pushed the nightgown back down as much as I could. The shock of her almost waking up helped me recover the senses I’d apparently lost, and I decided it was past bedtime for both of us.

I woke her up as gently as I could, and whispered that it was time for bed.

“Okay,” she said. Then she fell back asleep.

I let her sleep for two or three more minutes, and then I woke her up again. “Don’t fall back asleep,” I said, “or I’ll spank you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she murmured, but she finally sat up. I helped her stand up, and I let her put her arm around my shoulder as we walked together toward her room. She started giggling when we were halfway there, and rested almost all of her weight against me. When we were almost to the door she suddenly stopped, and said sleepily, “Aren’t we going to sleep in the same bed?”

I blinked at this. “You don’t want your own bed?”

She shrugged, her eyes still half-closed. “Maybe tomorrow. It would be fun to sleep together, like when we were kids….” Then she seemed to wake up a bit, and she said quickly, “Sorry, I know that’s silly. I’ll go in the guest room.”

“No, no, I don’t mind.” I grinned. “As long as you don’t kick me like you did when you were four.”

Five minutes later I had tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead, and she was already snoring lightly when I turned off the light and slipped quietly into the bathroom to shower.

While I showered I thought about everything and felt relieved that nothing else had happened. It was ridiculous on every level—even if I could get past the incest taboo, and that didn’t seem as if it would be incredibly difficult, what would Allie think? She was a little angel, as pure as anyone I’d ever known.

As I was standing under the hot water trying to convince myself of these things, my hand had worked its way between my soapy thighs and was now tracing lazy, perfect circles around my clit. When I realized what I was doing I pulled my hand away, a little regretfully—I like playing with myself— but I was afraid it would make me even hornier when I crawled into bed beside Allie.

I got out of the shower and dried myself off, then hung up the towel and turned off the bathroom light as I opened the door to the bedroom. Enough light was coming through the room’s single window that I could see pretty well, so I didn’t need to turn on the bedside lamp to find my way to my dresser.

I walked across the room, planning to grab a fresh pair of panties and a T-shirt out of my dresser—a minor concession to Allie, since I prefer to sleep in the nude most of the time—and then something caught my eye.

I turned my head toward the bed, and saw that Allie had not only kicked off most of her covers, she’d pulled off her nightgown and panties as well. She was lying on her side, facing the middle of the bed, and she had pushed one of her pillows down so she could squeeze it between her thighs while she slept.

My hand was on the dresser drawer. I pulled it back, realizing it didn’t make any sense to feign modesty with Allie if she was going to sleep in the nude herself. I went around to the other side of the bed and got in as quietly as I could manage. I like to sleep on my side, too, so I curled up in a position that was almost identical to Allie’s, with my back to her, and then I surprised myself by falling asleep almost immediately.

One strange dream blended into the next, and almost every single dream had some kind of sexual aspect to it (the price I had to pay for not finishing myself off in the shower, I suppose). At one point, I found myself half-sitting, half-kneeling in bed, while my parents sat in folding chairs just inside the bedroom door, looking on with obvious disapproval. At first I didn’t know why they seemed to disapprove, and then I realized that I was sitting on someone’s face. A soft, lazy tongue was circling around and darting inside my ass, and even though I was embarrassed by my parents’ presence in the room, I lowered myself all the way down onto the unseen face beneath me, grinding my ass onto the stranger’s mouth. The tongue kept flicking across my asshole, tickling me and arousing me at the same time.

I finally thought to look down, and there was Allie’s body stretched out underneath me. I gasped but instead of jumping off, I pushed down even more, shoving my ass down into her unseen face, forcing her tongue back into my asshole….

My eyes snapped open, and in the sudden darkness I tried to figure out what I’d been dreaming and why it had me so shaken. Then I felt Allie’s body pushed up against mine, and felt her warm, sleeping breath against the back of my neck. She had curled up against me the way she had as a little girl sometimes, and she had kicked away the pillow between her thighs so she could wrap her leg across my hip. I could feel her soft breasts against my back, and one of her arms was draped loosely around my torso. The dream came back to me with startling clarity, and I felt such a complex mixture of excitement and guilt that it was dizzying.

The guilt faded quickly, maybe because guilt seems so unnecessary, so pointless, in the darkness. I pressed my ass back against her, the way I might have pressed it into my boyfriend’s cock while he was spooning me. Then I very gingerly slid her arm up, finally letting it come to rest across my chest, with one delicate hand brushing against my nipple. Feeling her hand on my breast, even while I knew that she was asleep, made my nipples harden and begin to ache. After a few seconds she squeezed me gently, as if she was just putting her fingers around something in her dream, and my nipples crinkled painfully in response. I stayed that way for almost half an hour, with my ass pushed up as close to my sister’s pussy as I could make it go, and with her pretty hand unconsciously cupping my breast.

Eventually I knew I wasn’t going to be satisfied with this. I needed more, and the sexual excitement I felt was intense enough that I was starting to feel reckless. I slipped my body out from underneath her, then pressed another pillow up against her as she started to roll over. She ended up mostly on her stomach, with her right leg pulled up and over the pillow.

I pushed myself off the bed and walked quietly around to the other side. Allie shifted a little but didn’t wake up, and for a few seconds I did nothing except stare at her naked body lying across the covers, while I dreamily played with my clit with one hand and my nipples with the other. I wished there was more light in the room so I could see every inch of her clearly, but I didn’t want to risk waking her up or (just maybe) snapping out of the feverish sexual daze into which I’d fallen.

My body moved forward as if pulled by some unseen hand, and I crawled onto the bed behind her, as silently and unobtrusively as a cat. Then, breathing hard and unevenly, I got down on my stomach and lowered my head in the direction of her ass. Her smell was intoxicating—why had I never realized how wonderful a woman could smell? I realized that one of the smells was perfume—Obsession. I recognized it because I wear it, too, but it smelled different on Allie, or maybe it was only because she had sprayed it between her legs, and I was smelling it now mixed in with the natural scents of her pussy and her ass…. I was helpless to do anything except move my face closer, so that’s what I did, until finally I was as close to her ass as I could get without actually touching her. I breathed in her scent, and now I was grinding against my hand on the bed, trying to play with myself without jarring the bed and waking up Allie.

She seemed to be sound asleep, so I thought that maybe I could just give her the tiniest kiss. I gently pressed my face into the shadows of her butt and planted a delicate kiss around her asshole, letting my tongue slide around the smooth, wrinkled skin with only the barest of pressure. She tasted wonderful, her ass tasted sweet and soft and feminine. I thought about Nick, and what he would think if he could see me like this, with my face stuck inside my sister’s ass as she slept, and it made me grind against my hand even harder. I was amazed at how much I loved her scent, how dizzy it made me, and I whimpered a little as I masturbated, now totally disoriented by all the sensations.

Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. I pushed myself away from Allie and fumbled around in the drawer of the nightstand until I found what I wanted. The vibrator buzzed to life, and I sat back against the headboard and spread my knees, keeping my feet pressed together in front of me. I could see Allie starting to wake up next to me, but that only made me hornier. I pushed the tip of the vibrator into my pussy, gasping as it opened me up, and then I pulled it free and dragged it up to my clit. I circled it gently around by swollen button, and now I was shaking and sweating and panting. I stuffed the vibrator back into my pussy, and this time I pushed it all the way up inside me, holding it there as I worked my clit with my hand.

Allie was sitting up in the bed by this point, watching me. At first I thought she was going to run out of the room, or gasp in shock at what I was doing… and then I saw the motion of her arm, and I knew that she was touching herself as she watched me. She was mostly in shadow, since I was blocking some of the moonlight in the room, but my eyes were on her anyway, and she must have known that I wanted to see her because she moved out from the shadows and kneeled right in front of me on the bed, only inches away from my knees.

“I want to see,” she whispered, and she leaned closer on the bed. As she moved forward she brought one hand down on my knee to steady herself, and my body reacted to her touch as if I’d been electrocuted.

“Allie….” I whispered back, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what I wanted. My pussy was throbbing and my clit felt as if it was on fire, and all I could think of was Allie’s smell.

Suddenly she reached out her arm, and then I felt her cool, soft fingers pressing down on the hand that I was using to massage my clit. She followed the motion of my hand, trying to feel what I was feeling, and she lowered her body down between my legs to get comfortable, keeping one of her own hands underneath her body and between her thighs.

She was content to just feel me playing with myself, but suddenly I wasn’t content. I lifted my hand and before she could react I clamped it down over hers, forcing her onto my clit. She whispered my name and I moaned, keeping her hand in place, and then she began to rub me gently, letting me guide her hand with mine.

“Touch me,” I said, a little louder now. “Please feel my pussy, Allie….”

Her head was getting lower and lower, and soon her face was almost right up against me. She took her other hand out of her cunt and used it to grab hold of the end of the vibrator, and then suddenly she was doing everything, fucking me with the vibrator and using her lovely fingers on my clit, and I put my hands around her face as I watched it all, thinking that I was more turned on at this moment than I’d ever been in my entire life. My whole body was sheathed in sweat now, and I could feel the sweat on Allie’s arms where they pressed up against the inside of my thighs.

“Sarah,” she whispered, “I want you to come, Sarah….”

That was all I needed. It was as if I was hit with three or four orgasms at the same time, not one after the other in a nice smooth progression but all at once, and I bucked against Allie’s hand and squeezed my legs together, inadvertently pushing my sister’s head down into my pussy. My thighs locked around her head as the next wave hit me, and then the vibrator was being pulled out of me, and then… oh christ… then Allie’s mouth was on me, sucking on my clit, and I clamped my legs around her even tighter and started shaking. Without thinking, I started bucking my hips, thrusting my pussy up to meet her tongue and her lips.

“Oh, god, Allie,” I panted. “Eat me… please eat me….”

She moaned and the vibrations echoed through my clit and through my whole body, and then suddenly I was turning her on the bed, pushing her onto her back with her head still trapped between my legs, until I ended up on top of her. “Don’t stop eating me,” I told her. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop….”

She needed no encouragement. I slid forward and backward on her face, making it easy for her to alternate between sucking my clit and lapping at the juices that were flowing out of my cunt. Now that her hands were free, she grabbed hold of my ass, and whenever I pulled away from her mouth she pulled me back down. I stayed on top of her that way, fucking her beautiful mouth with wild abandon, for what seemed like an eternity. It was as if a complete stranger had taken over my body, and I heard the stranger telling Allie to keep eating that pussy, to lick that cunt, to suck the cum out of that fucking pussy.

After an endless time, I lifted myself off her and turned to face the other direction, still straddling her head. Before she could say a word or ask what I was doing, I pushed my ass down into her face, spreading the cheeks so I could bury her inside me. Her tongue found my asshole immediately, and I started moving my hips around in a slow, tight circle, grinding my ass into her face and letting her pleasure me, forcing her to do what she’d done to me in my dream. And if, as in my dream, our parents had suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed, it would have only made me grind against her even harder.

“Good girl,” I said, looking down at her naked body sprawled beneath me. Her hand had found its way back to her pussy, and she was feverishly playing with herself again. “Suck my ass, Allie,” I said. “Kiss my little asshole and spread your legs wide for me… show me how much you like to suck me….”

Allie’s legs opened and her knees came up into the air, and her fingers started moving faster. I knew she needed some release, and I planned to give it to her. I let her fuck my ass with her tongue for another minute, and then I lowered myself onto her body, pressing my slick, sweaty breasts against her abdomen. Then I lowered my head and opened my mouth, and dragged my tongue down, very slowly, from her pretty little navel to the top of her neatly trimmed pubic mound, and then down even farther, until I was inside the lips of her pussy. I put my mouth around her clit and she cried out, her whole body stiffening beneath me. I closed my lips over the swollen nub and swirled my tongue across its surface, sucking gently but persistently, and she responded by squeezing her own thighs together around my face. Her aroused scent and the incredible mental picture I had of what we were doing was making me feel crazed, and I started lapping at her wet pussy and feeding on her clit with a kind of gentle, savage fury. I wanted to suck every ounce of juice out of her body, I wanted her to explode in my mouth just as I exploded in hers. I slid my hands under her ass and used one finger to play with her asshole as I ate her, and Allie responded by doing the same thing to me, and now we were both devouring each other and neither of us could see or hear anything because of the sweaty thighs that were keeping us both locked in place.

Suddenly I felt, more than heard, Allie’s low-pitched, animal groan, and she began pumping herself against my mouth like a wild horse as she began to come. Her mouth slipped off my pussy as she lost herself in the orgasm, but I started to come again anyway. Tears of exhaustion and astonishment were running down my face and mixing with Allie’s sweat and cum, and I licked up all of it, everything that was within reach of my hungry lips. The orgasm blinded me with its power, making every nerve ending on my body ultra-sensitive, so that even the slightest touch from Allie, anywhere on my body, was enough to trigger another exhausting wave. I imagined myself unloading in her mouth, feeding my cum to her, and I sucked her dry as I pictured and felt her doing the same to me.

Eventually we both relaxed our thighs enough to ease the grip we had around each other’s heads, but otherwise we didn’t move for a long, long time. I thought she had finally fallen asleep, and then she startled me by getting up on her hands and knees on the bed.

“Sarah,” she said, her voice hoarse and shaky.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered back, touching her face in the semi-darkness.

“Please… fuck me.”

For a few seconds I didn’t say anything, I didn’t move or even breathe. Then I sat all the way up on the bed, so that my face was only inches from hers. I said, “Okay, Allie.”

I climbed off the bed and went to the closet, then turned on the light so I could find the box that was hidden in the very back of the room. I opened the box and found what I needed—a strap-on kit that had been given to me by an adventurous boyfriend a few years back. It came with a variety of different cocks, and I picked one that was realistic and a good size, not terribly long but quite thick. Then I turned off the light and quietly closed the closet door.

As I turned and approached the bed, holding both the cock and the harness, Allie said, “Wait.”

She was kneeling on the bed, facing me, her body backlit by the moon. Just seeing her silhouette made my nipples crinkle again.

“What is it?” I whispered. “If you’re afraid, Allie….”

“It’s not that,” she said. Her voice was strange and desperate as she added, “Turn on the light, Sarah.” When I hesitated, she said with conviction, “I want you to see me. I want you… to look at my body while you fuck me… to look at my face… to watch me come….” She lifted her head a little, and her voice was plaintive as she said, “Do you want to see me, Sarah?”

I was shaking, now. “More than anything,” I said. I leaned over and fumbled with the lamp beside the bed, finally locating the switch, and then suddenly the room was filled with soft, golden light.

I turned and looked at Allie. Still kneeling in the same position, her arms were down at her sides, covering nothing, and her thighs were slightly opened. Her face was sweaty and flushed and her gorgeous hair fell in a tangled clump across her shoulders. I was filled with something like awe at how sexual she looked, how raw and perfect and uncorrupted.

Her mouth was open a tiny bit, and her eyes were on mine. And because I knew she wanted me to look at her—really look at her—that’s what I did. I moved my eyes down her slick, golden body, taking in her exquisite breasts and her painfully hard nipples, noticing the pink flush that spread across her chest as she saw my eyes travel down her body. Her chest moved in time with her quick, shallow breasts, and I followed a single bead of sweat as it glided down from between her breasts, across her abdomen, and then dissipated as it approached her bellybutton. My eyes kept moving down, and now I was looking at her lovely, delicate pussy. The few hairs around it glistened with sweat and saliva and her own cum, and the lips were pink and inflamed. I gave it one last, lingering glance, and then I moved my eyes onward, staring at the taut muscles in her thighs as she tried to keep herself still on the bed. I could see the muscles twitch under her moist skin as my eyes moved across them, and I felt my own legs start to weaken.

I climbed on the bed and Allie moved aside to give me room, sliding down onto her butt and opening her legs. With her mouth still slightly open and her eyes glassy, she watched me strap on the harness and then attach the prosthetic cock. She looked up at my breasts, so much like her own, and then finally up at my face. I slid forward on the bed, getting closer to her, and she laid her head back on the pillow and spread her legs even more, as wide as they would go. She closed her eyes and put her arms out beside her, palms and fingers digging into the sheets as she waited for me to fuck her.

I guided the head of the cock toward her, letting it rest for a moment against her still swollen clit. Then I rubbed it gently from side to side, very slowly, and Allie’s grip on the bed sheets tightened.

“Please,” she whispered.

I moved the head down a short distance, until it was right up against her wet, aching hole. Then I pushed forward about an inch, amazed at how much I was enjoying this…. I let go of the shaft and put both of my hands down on the bed around Allie’s body, and as I brought my weight down on her she started to shake. I was worried that it might be too thick for her, but she suddenly arched her back and said, “Do it, Sarah. Just fuck me!”

Overcome with emotion, I slid all the way inside her. She cried out as the fat cock split her open, but almost immediately she started moving against me. She wrapped her legs around my hips and pulled me forward, and then my mouth was on her mouth, finding and devouring her tongue, even as I lifted my ass and started working the cock in and out of her pussy. I found her hands on the bed and lifted her arms so they were pinned beneath me, and I pressed my entire body up against hers, making sure that both our clits were being stimulated by the contact. The kissing alone was making me dizzy, and the feeling of Allie’s legs clamped around my butt as I fucked her was unexpectedly amazing….

I kept my mouth on hers and felt her moaning around my tongue, and I felt her body start to shake beneath me. She started bucking wildly against me, and I responded by fucking her more roughly, using shorter, faster strokes instead of the long and gentle strokes with which I’d started. I let go of her hands and she immediately wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in close, and then her hands were all over my back and my sides, and I felt her struggling to feel my breasts, which were mashed up against her own, so I pushed myself up on my arms so she could reach them.

I closed my eyes as she found my nipples and played with them, and I knew that I was probably fucking her too hard now but I couldn’t stop, and then I opened my eyes and she was looking back at me, and she said, “Almost there, don’t stop, Sarah….”

I lowered my head to kiss her again, and then I simply lost myself in our fucking, and we were turning on the bed now, and suddenly I looked up and Allie was on top of me, her hair falling down in my face, pumping her little ass up and down on the cock. She brought her head down and began sucking one of my nipples, making me shiver, and when she lifted her mouth I grabbed her head and brought her back down over my breast, and then I was lost in ecstasy at what she was doing to me, and at the way she looked as she fucked me, as I fucked her.

Finally I lifted her head and brought her mouth to mine again, and I felt tears coming down her face. She pushed her tongue deep into my mouth, her whole body trembling on top of me, and then I knew she was coming. I wrapped my arms around her and kept her still, gently moving the cock around inside of her, and then she broke free from the kiss and cried out again. My own orgasm finally hit, and Allie lowered herself onto my body so I could squeeze and clutch her as I rode it out.

A long time later, after the trembling had subsided and we were both breathing normally again, Allie finally rolled off me. She didn’t move away, though, keeping her body turned and her breasts pushed up against me. And then she started to giggle. I looked at her face and started laughing, too, and I don’t think either one of us knew why were laughing.

“When I talk to Mom and Dad,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “I’m going to tell them that we really bonded this week….”

“Sometimes,” I added, “two or three times a night.”

And then we were both laughing again, softly but easily. I turned off the light, and eventually we fell asleep, both of us drifting off on the echoes of our laughter like the notes of a song.

The End

By Cassie

It was the smell of coffee that eventually woke Justine to the new day. Like a regular alarm, the sweet smell of Arabica beans roasted and piping hot brought her from the deep slumber she was in. She smiled before she even opened her eyes, stretched out her hand to feel the warm body of her sister under the sheets of the bed, and found nothing but cool linen.

She frowned, squinting her eyes open, wondering if the last few hours were some horrible mixture of perfect dream and perfect torture. Briefly she wondered, Was it worth all that mental anguish; to acknowledge my sister in such a sexual way, only for it to have been a dream?

She sat up in bed and quickly realised that at least some of it had to be true. She wasn’t in the spare room. She recognised Kelly’s bed from both its size and the faint earthy scent her sister had — so similar to Justine’s own, yet subtly different, and utterly intoxicating. But Kelly wasn’t there.

Justine sat up in her sister’s bed, red-gold curls spilling over her shoulders, and pulled up the sheets to cover her nakedness. She listened for the sound of some movement, but could not hear anything.

Looking around the neat, sparsely furnished room, Justine saw a bathrobe hanging on a hook by the door facing her. She got up, dropping the sheets, and padded quietly to the robe, slipping into it and belting it round her waist. She stopped for a moment and held the thick, furry lapels of the robe to her face and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply of that subtly-different scent of her sister.

Justine felt her heart begin to quicken and opened her eyes, determined not to be caught looking so foolish should Kelly re-enter her room.

But why would I look foolish? she thought to herself. Surely after last night, in between and at either side of the intimate cuddles the two sisters shared, along with the soft kiss Kelly had given her this morning, surely there was nothing awkward between them, now that such intimacy had been breached.

Justine opened the door leading out to the landing and the downstairs, suddenly convinced of the reciprocity of her new-found feelings of intimacy and desire for her own sister. It was a wonderful feeling for Justine but, unfortunately, misplaced.

“Hey, you!” Kelly said, looking over her shoulder as Justine walked cautiously into the kitchen. Justine’s new-found sister was standing beside a hob cooker, stirring absently with a wooden spoon at a pot that was bubbling with something. Kelly was dressed in an old college-style athletics t-shirt, with loose flannel shorts and beach-wear flip flops. Beside her, a pot of freshly-ground coffee sat steaming on the sideboard.

Justine smiled and closed her eyes, breathing in the aroma. “The coffee smells great,” she said.

“Woke you up, huh? I suppose that confirms it, then.”

”Confirms it?”

“The fact that we’re sisters. I’m the only other person who can sleep through a hurricane, but wakes up at the smell of fresh coffee!”

Kelly gave Justine a broad smile, but then turned away; concentrating on the bubbling pot. After a moment’s awkward silence, Kelly asked over her shoulder if Justine wanted any scrambled eggs. Justine walked up behind her sister and put her hands on Kelly’s hips. She leaned in to give her sister a little kiss on the neck, but felt Kelly stiffen, as though scared.

“Hey,” Justine said, standing back to disentangle the identical strands of red hair. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Kelly threw another brief smile over her shoulder, then looked away again. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Except these damned eggs! I never seem to get them right!”

“Here,” said Justine, encircling her arm around her sister’s to take hold of the spoon. “You might not be stirring it the right—”

Kelly flinched and dropped the spoon, stepping away from Justine. This time, there was no smile on her lips, nor glitter in her eyes.

“Oh, forget the fucking eggs!” she blurted, looking first at Justine, then at the floor. Justine did not know what to say, and there was a lifetime of unspoken seconds until Kelly spoke next. “I don’t know where the fuck you — maybe you should just… maybe you should…” She shook her head, as though to shake loose some thoughts. “Look, we had a really good day yesterday, but last night, I don’t know what — I don’t understand….”

Justine stepped toward Kelly, holding out her hands. “Hey, look; I’m sorry if coming into your room was a problem. I just got a bit scared in the dark and I thought… you know.”

Kelly sighed, looking down again. She clearly didn’t want a fight, but was uncomfortable too.

An icy hint of fear touched Justine. Had she done something in her sleep? Touched her sister in an uninvited way? Or was it something Kelly had done instead? Something her wide-awake mind couldn’t accept, or didn’t like?

Justine knew that Kelly was feeling fragile enough, coming to terms so quickly with the idea of having a twin sister all of a sudden. That and, perhaps, the renewed intimacy of sharing her bed after her husband’s death must have been too much for her.

Justine made a decision.

“Listen, Kelly, I’m sorry if things didn’t work out so well, or if I said or did anything to offend you, but I never meant to.”

Kelly stood quietly, staring intently at her kitchen floor. Justine waited for some kind of reply, but none came.

“I’ll get my stuff from upstairs,” Justine mumbled. “I need to get back home anyhow.”

She turned and walked back up the stairs to the spare bedroom. Kelly did not say anything.

In the spare room, Justine sat down on the bed and gathered her clothes together; putting on fresh underwear from her bag, but the same outer clothes she wore yesterday. Somehow, on a very small level, she wanted to keep that sense of intimacy of discovery with her sister; even if it was only on the scent of her clothes.

Now dressed, she sat for a few minutes; willing herself not to cry. Eventually, she got up and left the room. As she stepped toward the stairs, she heard the pitter-patter sound of Kelly’s shower being used. She paused for a moment outside her sister’s bedroom door and wondered whether or not she should go in. But cowardice wrapped in common sense made up her mind, and she made her way to the front door instead.

By the door, there was a note, folded into an envelope with Justine’s name written on the front. Justine picked up the note, held it in her hand, then stepped out of Kelly’s house and walked quietly to her car.

She did not read the note until the middle of the next night, but she held the paper so close to her, and fingered the lettering of her name so many times, the ink had started to smudge even before she cried onto it.

When Justine made it back to her home in Brighton, it was getting dark already. She’d stopped a couple of times to admire the rolling Sussex countryside, or take a break from driving. Or that’s what she told herself. Really — deep down — she knew that if she kept driving without a break, and let her maudlin thoughts build up, she’d begin to cry and never stop. She had gone through a spectrum of emotions already — from angry to remorseful to desperate, but always coming back to plain old sadness.

She let herself into her flat and went straight into the kitchen, where she made herself a hot chocolate, toasted two pieces of bread, and grabbed an apple from her neglected fruit bowl. Then she went into her lounge, put on the television and cycled through enough cable channels to make her chocolate cold.

Toast eaten, and no programmes on TV worth watching, she got up and made her way to the computer. She fired up the machine, fully intent on getting some work done — but before she’d even checked her e-mail, Justine logged onto the Sisters in Love site. She needed someone to talk to, someone who could understand, give her some advice, or simply listen to her in a sympathetic way.

There were a few new stories Jan had uploaded since Justine last looked at the site, and one or two testimonials she hadn’t read before, but Justine ignored them for the time being and clicked onto the forum pages to see what was being discussed.

There were a few new entries, including one new string on sisters in non-Hollywood movies who had acted together but, again, nothing to do with Justine’s concerns. So she decided to pen one of her own, hoping that someone would be willing to read and possibly answer it. She titled the entry ‘So near and yet so far; what next?’

Hi. My name’s Justine and I’m pretty new to SIL. I recently discovered that I have a twin sister who I’d been separated from since birth. We met not long ago and there was an instant attraction that I (usually the most straight of women) could not ignore. My sister and I spent some quality time together, and my feelings for her grew.

Very recently, I spent the night with her and we cuddled intimately (nothing more). But in the morning, my twin seemed very upset with me, and all but asked me to leave. I can’t go back to her, and I can’t bear to never see her again. Has anyone ever suffered the same way?

Justine left the entry at that and submitted it. She left the computer to make herself a cup of green tea, then came back in to do some work. But when she sat down at her desk, there was a reply to her SIL entry already. Justine put down her cup and clicked on the reply.

Hey there. That’s quite a pickle, by the sounds of it. I don’t know about your sister, but have you read the testimonial by Magdalene? It might give you a clue what the other side is thinking of.

The reply was from someone called ‘Ranfurly ’ who Justine hadn’t noticed before, but who had seemed to be a member for some time. Taking the advice, Justine put her work on hold and searched the SIL site for this particular testimonial.

She found it — an old one, it seemed — and read about the anguish of a woman who, in her youth, rejected the affections of a half-sister she had previously known nothing about. It seemed this incident took place many years ago, with the woman, Magdalene, having been introduced to her sister by an obscure cousin.

The two young women had got on famously, sharing each other’s sense of humour, mischief, and longing. They spent an entire summer together, almost inseparable, until the half-sister had to go back to her boarding school in a different town.

The night before she was to leave, the half-sister made known her affections toward Magdalene, and attempted to seduce her. Magdalene, in her own words, spoke about how she angrily rejected her half-sister’s affections; how she burned with an anger that told her she had been tricked and betrayed by this perverted woman.

Magdalene never saw her again. A month after their break-up, she heard the news that her half-sister had been killed in a tragic road accident. The last words Magdalene had said to her half-sister had been uttered out of anger and spite, and she spent half of the rest of her life regretting them, and the chance to return her half-sister’s affections.

Justine read and reread the story, trying to take it all in. What was the message there? That Kelly was angry and confused, but loved Justine anyway? That sibling love is doomed by a higher power than mere human want? Justine did not know, and could not think about it anymore.

On impulse, she picked up her phone and dialled Kelly’s number. The answer machine, with Kelly’s bright, sunny voice, spoke out to her, asking Justine to leave a message.

“Kelly? It’s Justine. I just — I just wanted to let you know that I got back okay. I wanted to see if you — if you — Kelly, are you there? Kelly? Please pick up the phone. I really need to talk to you. Kelly? Please?”

Justine put down the phone when she heard the desperation in her own voice. She sat back and cried, not knowing what else to do.

Almost two days later, Justine had nearly gotten back into her own routine. She had moped for some time after her aborted call to Kelly. Had briefly flirted with the ideas of trashing her flat, driving straight back to Ashford to confront her twin sister, going out to a bar and getting rotten drunk, offering to sleep with the first person to take her fancy, eating as much chocolate and ice-cream as she could before being sick, going to her gym and pounding away at the punch bag until her knuckles were bloody. She nearly fell for the last one, but instead, exhausted, went to bed and slept surprisingly well. She did not dream.

The next day, she logged back into her work and toiled feverishly to make up for lost time, taking only short breaks from the computer or phone until late at night. She did the same the next day, a Monday.

Then, in the evening, Justine found herself toying between the decision of cooking some food, or going to the gym. Eventually, needing the air and the need to work out her frustrations, she decided on the gym and got changed into her all-black running kit of Lycra vest and leggings, zip-up hoodie and trainers.

She left her flat and made her way down to the street to start the ten-minute warm-up jog to her gym. Justine closed the flat door behind her and, turning left onto the pavement as she began her run, looked down to zip up her hoodie. It was the looking down that caused her to bump into someone; bouncing off a little and issuing an automatic expletive-laden apology. “Ooh! Fuck; sorry, I—”

“Justine?”

Justine looked up. It was Kelly.

The two women sat in Justine’s apartment on separate sofas, each holding a steaming mug of Justine’s favourite hot chocolate. Justine had made the two mugs exactly the same and knew, even before Kelly had taken her first sip, that her sister would love it as much as she did. She watched as Kelly took a sip of the steaming sweet drink. She licked and smacked her lips at the taste, but said nothing and continued to stare at the mug she held in both hands.

She likes it, Justine thought, even though Kelly had said nothing. She likes it just as much as me. The thought was strangely reaffirming, as though Kelly liking the chocolate was yet more proof the two were meant for each other.

A few more moments passed in awkward silence. Since coming in to Justine’s apartment, Kelly had said very little, and was now sat very upright on the sofa opposite from her sister. Justine had tried to soften the atmosphere with some light talk, and lounged on the other sofa just like she’d done at Kelly’s house, but her sister remained quiet and distant. She was dressed in a knee-length skirt with a dark-green baggy cardigan and flat-heeled moccasin boots. She looked like a primary school teacher.

“I was just going to go out for my run,” Justine said conversationally, glancing down at her own gym threads. “I’ve tried riding a bike but, honestly, round here it’s like riding a death race on most street corners. I mean, jogging isn’t historically the safest sport for a single woman at night, but it’s better than being minced by a lorry driver, right?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“But you have to do something to stay fit, right? And I can’t stand those indoor gym kits. Better to run off the fat, huh?”

“Yeah.”

The pause extended ominously once again. Justine sat up, placing her mug on the coffee table that separated the two of them. She let her voice sound as gentle as possible. “Kelly, why did you come?”

Kelly opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again. She paused, for the barest of moments, then leaned forward to put her own mug down on the coffee table.

“I — I shouldn’t have come. It was wrong to—”

“Hey.”

Justine closed on Kelly as her sister reached out, still speaking as softly as she could. “Don’t leave, Kelly. Not now. Not after you’ve come all this way. Please don’t leave me.”

Kelly looked up, her eyes urgent and terribly frightened. It was as though some ancient and dreadful fear had just stolen over her and she could only allow a glimpse of it to be seen. “But this is a sin, Justine! A sin! It’s not right! I can’t do this, I just can’t.”

“Kelly, of course it’s all right. We’re sisters. Twin sisters; almost the same person. Besides, what’s wrong anyway? I don’t even know what you’re so angry about!” She shouted the last few words; anger spilling out over the concern she’d shown to Kelly moments earlier.

At once, Justine smoothed the hair from her temples and behind her ears; a stress-gesture she’d had since she was a child. She was about to take a deep breath and apologise, but the anger wouldn’t go away, and she found herself stabbing more words at her upset sister.

“I mean, what the fuck’s been happening, Kelly? Neither of us was looking for a twin sister, but we found each other, and — you know — it’s been bloody great, Kelly. Bloody great! I mean, who could have hoped to find someone so special like this? This doesn’t even happen in the fucking movies, does it? Why are you so upset? Why haven’t you wanted to talk to me? I don’t understand!”

Justine realised she had been leaning forward, reaching out to Kelly with her hands as she did so. Kelly was sitting as still as before, but her eyes were wide with shock, fear and incomprehension. An awkward silence settled immediately over the two. As she watched her sister, Justine saw Kelly’s eyes well up and spill tears down her cheek.

“I d-don’t — I can’t…” Kelly sputtered, shaking her head in minute left-right movements. She seemed paralysed — unable to move, but unable to respond either.

Justine stood up and stepped round the coffee table. She sat down and took Kelly’s hands in her own, pulling her sister to face her. Without warning, she felt hot tears leak out onto her own cheeks.

“Kelly, please talk to me. You’ve come to mean so much to me over these last few weeks. I can’t bear to see you so upset. Please!”

“No,” said Kelly, shaking her head but looking deep into Justine’s eyes. “I can’t. You’d hate me. You’d hate me and tell me—”

“Hate you for what, Kelly? What is it? Have you stolen my money? I don’t care about that. Have you murdered someone? We’ve all made mistakes. I’m in PR, for God’s sake! Please talk to me.”

The two women sat quietly, Kelly shaking her head slowly, letting her hands sit limply in her sister’s grip. Justine wouldn’t let go, and something about the woman’s demeanour crept into Kelly’s ‘here-and-now’.

Justine felt Kelly’s fingers close on hers. She watched as Kelly shut her eyes and sighed, resigning herself to the demons that were tormenting her.

“It was the night you stayed,” she said; her voice surprisingly calm and quiet. When you came into my room and stayed with me.” There was a pause, but this time, Justine didn’t push for a response. After another deep breath, Kelly continued. “We’d had such a good day, Justine. It was, like you said, a perfect day. Perfect from beginning to end. I felt we’d connected so much, Justine. It was brilliant. Even the little things you did, I thought were just like mine, or just the right things to do. I dunno. I can’t explain it very well. Was never any good with words.”

Justine sat through another silence, holding onto her sister’s hand.

“I kept getting these thoughts, Justine,” Kelly said. “I kept having them all the time, but I didn’t want to think about them, ‘cos they were wrong. But when you came in, and got into bed, I kept having them again and again. It’s like they took me over, Justine. And while you slept, I couldn’t stop it, Justine. I couldn’t stop it!”

“Stop what, Kelly?” Justine’s heart was thumping with what she wanted her sister to say, but feared anything except it.

“At first, you were sleeping badly, turning your head and moaning. But then I started to stroke your hair, and face, and shoulders, and you calmed down. But then I couldn’t stop and them thoughts kept coming back, Justine. I kept on stroking you. Your skin was so warm and soft, and you looked so beautiful. I ain’t never seen a woman as beautiful as you, and so I kept on touching you until I fell asleep.”

She paused, swallowed, then spoke again. “It was wicked thoughts, Justine. Not proper for a woman, and not for a sister neither.”

Justine sat stunned for the briefest of moments, then pulled her sister into a sobbing embrace, her heart singing with what she’d heard Kelly say.

“I couldn’t say nothing about it, and I couldn’t bear to see you,” Kelly said, crying into her sister’s identical curly red hair. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you either, and couldn’t bear not to see you again. I’ve missed you, Justine, and that’s God’s truth, even if we only just met.”

“I know, Kelly. I know. It’s like that for me, too. I’ve been thinking about you all the time, worried I hurt you, or offended you or something.”

The two women cried into each other’s shoulders and embraced for a long moment, until Justine finally pulled away and smoothed the tears from her eyes.

“I’d b-better finish my chocolate,” said Kelly, snuffling.

“It’s cold now,” Justine replied.

“Yeah, but it weren’t half nice!” Kelly said, chuckling through her recent tears.

Justine stood up, still clinging onto Kelly’s hands. “Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”

She led Kelly over to the computer and fired up the Internet browser. She pulled over a small coffee table and sat on that, giving Kelly the comfy computer chair to sit on.

Kelly sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, while Justine navigated through a few websites to get to the one she wanted. She heard Kelly murmur the question “Sisters in Love?” and looked across, seeing the frown stamped on her sister’s pretty forehead. Justine smiled, reaching across to close her hand over her sister’s.

“Don’t worry, Kelly. This is a really good website. It’s helped me a lot.”

Kelly, still frowning, looked from the computer to Justine and back again.

“Is this a kind of women’s porn site?” she said, noticing the banner ads for other sites. Justine shook her head.

“No. Not really. I mean, it’s an erotic site, but it’s not simply meant for porn. It’s meant for so much more than that.”

Over the next ten minutes, Justine went on to describe her short holiday — omitting her liaison with the mysterious and sexy Rosa, but telling her sister all about the meeting with Jan, and her introduction to Sisters in Love. She punctuated this with various pages from the SiL website; stopping to tell Kelly what each was for.

“Even when I first started reading people’s stories on this site, I still didn’t really know what it meant for me, or what I should read into it,” she told Kelly. “But the more I learned about other people’s experiences, the more I realised that I could feel like this too, that I wasn’t a freak or a monster. Just someone who had found their sister, and who needed to be with her.”

“But are all these people real?” Kelly asked. “Isn’t this just some place for people to make up stories and share all these kinds of — of — of  sex fantasies?”

Justine stood, still holding onto her sister‘s hand. She looked down at Kelly and shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe some of the stories aren’t real. Maybe some of the people who use this site aren’t who they say they are. But Jan is. She’s flesh and blood and she’s a more real person than I could ever be. But that doesn’t matter anyway. Jan could be a made-up person and it wouldn’t matter. I don’t need other people to feel what I feel when I’m with you. I don’t need to understand every emotion I’ve got, or justify it to anyone either. I just need to accept it and go with it.”

She tugged Kelly until her sister was standing up in front of her. Justine let her eyes roam briefly around her sister’s face; the almost-identical green eyes arched with fine, light-red eyebrows; the high cheekbones and straight jaw line, framed by hanging curls of golden-red hair.

“All I need to know is that you’re here with me, here right now. And that right now, you feel just as I do, no matter what the rule book says.” Justine straightened her legs so she was standing square in front of her sister. “Kelly, why did you come here?”

A brief, pained expression crossed her sister’s face, and Kelly shrugged. “I — I — I don’t know,” she stammered. “I came ‘cos I, well, I don’t know. I just had to.”

“Yes, yes! Because it felt right. Because it is right. Everything that’s happened between us has been right, Kelly — everything. Every time we’ve spoken to each other, looked at each other, touched each other. Everything has been right, because there’s something special between us. Something that doesn’t happen to a million other people. Might only ever happen between sisters like us.”

Kelly shook her head slowly, looking down. “It’s not right, Justine. It’s not—”

Justine let go of one of Kelly’s hands and used her forefinger to lift her sister’s chin. “You’re the most wonderful, beautiful, electrifying person I’ve ever met,” she said. Kelly looked up and their eyes locked.

Suddenly, the room and everything around them faded into the background. The two women gazed into each other’s green eyes and neither dared to be the first to look away. Each sister was as captivated as the other. Justine smiled softly, drowning in her sister‘s almost-identical features.

“I can’t bear not to be with you,” she said, closing her eyes and letting the vision of her sister‘s face imprint itself onto her eyelids. She wanted to hold that image for a hundred years and never change it. She took her sister‘s hands and laced her fingers between Kelly‘s. “And when I’m with you, I can’t bear not to be with you completely.”

Keeping her eyes shut, that last image of her sister still burned fresh onto her mind, she leaned forward slowly, tilting her head minutely to the right. She felt it on her breath first: the closeness to Kelly’s face. She felt the warmth of her sister’s lips caress her own a mere fraction of a second and ten million heartbeats later.

The two sisters met each other’s kiss with the softest of touches, a physical whisper of extraordinary gentleness more powerful than anything either woman had experienced before.

Justine opened her eyes and saw the closeness of Kelly’s face, felt the heat from her sister’s skin reach her own.

“Justine, we shouldn’t—”

“Shhh. We should. We so should.”

And then it was Kelly’s turn to lean forward, hungry for her sister’s lips. She felt the soft moistness of Justine’s mouth as the two sisters let their tongues intertwine and explore. For each it was a moment of electric eroticism, coupled with an incredible sense of release, of giving in at last to the desires that had so consumed them since they last spent time together.

It was a moment of pure and utter devotion. And as the kiss extended and grew in passion, so the rest followed.

The sisters let go of each other’s hands and Justine felt Kelly’s arms reach over her shoulder and drape over her neck, pulling her closer so that their shoulders and breasts pressed together. For her part, Justine let her hands reach forward and touch her sister’s body, smoothing over her ribs and around to the small of her back, pulling her so that their bellies and thighs pressed together with equal ardour.

Justine felt dizzy as her sister kissed her harder, passion spilling over as though trying to catch up for lost years and lost intimacy. Kelly’s hands were at once pressing against the space between her shoulder blades, then threading their way through the hair at the back of her head, then caressing the soft skin at the nape of her neck. The smell and taste of her sister was filling all of Justine’s senses, the most powerful aphrodisiac she had ever known. Justine, all at once, wanted to sigh and fall asleep in her sister’s arms, to kiss and hold her until they dropped, and to make love to every inch of her all in one go. The feel of her sister’s soft gyration beneath Justine’s hands, and the crush of her breasts against Justine’s own were turning her on more than any man or woman had ever done before.

It was as though this intimacy with Kelly was the key to her arousal, a key that she’d been looking for all her life and had only just found. Justine had no doubt that Kelly felt almost exactly the same way herself.

They broke off their kiss in unison and buried their faces in the cleft between each other’s neck and shoulder. Justine breathed in deeply of her sister’s scent — the sweet smell of the shampoo she used, coupled with the more earthy, almost-identical scent of her skin.

“Stay with me,” she breathed, not daring to open her eyes. “Stay with me tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Kelly whispered back; her voice close and war to Justine’s ear. Justine smiled.

“What we’re doing…?” Kelly continued, dropping a question mark into the last word.

Justine pressed both hands against Kelly’s back, squeezing her tightly. “Shhh,” she said, drawing back to look her sister in the eye. “Don’t think it. Don’t say anything.”

Releasing Kelly from her embrace, Justine reached forward with her hands and, very slowly, started to untie the knot on the front of Kelly’s cardigan. All the while, their shared gaze remained unbroken.

When the knot was undone, Kelly shrugged the garment off her shoulders until they were bare. She reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, but Justine stopped her.

“No. Let me.”

She reached round to Kelly’s back and released the catch on her bra. Tracing her fingers back up to Kelly’s shoulders, Justine smoothed the bra straps over her sister’s arms, then ran her fingers down Kelly’s chest, letting her fingertips graze the already-hard nipples, now released from their confinement. Kelly sighed as her sister touched her, and this gave Justine more confidence. She dropped her hands to the waistband of Kelly’s skirt and groped for the clasp.

Kelly closed her eyes and smiled. “It’s at the back.”

With a nervous laugh, Justine found the clasp and undid it, hooking her thumbs under the fabric to drag it free of her sister’s hips and legs. It fell to the floor and Kelly stepped out of the skirt, clad now only in her boots and knickers. Justine resisted the urge to stare at her sister’s slender body with unashamed longing, but took a side-step, extending her hand.

“Come on,” she said.

“Wait one,” Kelly replied, raising each leg in turn to unzip her boots and take them off her feet. She stepped free and took her sister’s hand, now barefoot.

Justine felt Kelly’s fingers interlace with her own and she made her way slowly through the lounge, leading her sister down the hallway and to her bedroom. Her heart was beating fast, but she felt a certain calmness, the inevitability of joy as she knew what was coming next. She turned on the low-lights to her bedroom — eight carefully positioned bulbs designed to make the room look as if it were lit by candles.

Justine drew Kelly to the bed and went to sit down, but Kelly tugged her back.

“My turn.”

Kelly sat on the edge of the bed and drew Justine toward her. She pulled at the zip of Justine’s jogging top and, when it was undone, threw it to the floor once Justine had shrugged it off. Underneath it was the cropped sports top Justine was wearing, and Kelly tentatively let her fingers play over her sister’s taut stomach. Justine gave a short moan of pleasure, then squirmed when the tickling became too much. At that, Kelly leaned forward and planted a kiss below Justine’s belly button, breathing in deeply of her sister’s body scent.

As Kelly fumbled with the waistband of her jogging trousers, Justine pulled the gym top over her head, then kicked the trainers off her feet so Kelly could tug her pants down and off. Kelly rose to stand in front of her sister and, looking down, slid a finger under the strong elastic of Justine’s sports bra.

When she lifted the taut garment, Justine’s breasts bounced free. Kelly helped remove the bra and, after she’d tossed it to the floor with the rest of Justine’s clothes, the two sisters closed the small gap between each other’s bodies and embraced, skin to skin. They kissed again; kissed for a long time as they let their bodies drink in the sensation of each other’s bare skin.

Then Kelly broke off, a note of concern in her voice. “I ain’t ever been with a woman,” she said.

Justine smiled. “I have.”

“Was it — was it good?”

Justine smiled again, this time ruefully. “I don’t know. I was so drunk I couldn’t remember.”

The sisters shared a giggle, then Justine smoothed her hands down Kelly’s slim back and over the twin curves of her buttocks, still covered by her white cotton underwear. “Still want to do this?” she asked, as though she needed affirmation for this last taboo.

Kelly nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I really do.”

Justine hooked her thumbs in the elastic of Kelly’s panties and drew them down. Following the lead of her hands, she lowered herself until she was kneeling in front of Kelly, eye level with her sister’s belly button. She slid Kelly’s panties down to her ankles and then caressed her sister’s hips and thighs as Kelly stepped free, totally naked.

Justine looked up, up across the landscape of her sister’s body and into Kelly’s eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, meaning every word.

“All of me?” Kelly said, letting her fingers comb through Justine’s long red hair.

Justine nodded. “All of you.”

She looked down to the jagged scar across the side of Kelly’s perfectly smooth pubis. She traced a fingertip gently across its seam, feeling Kelly shiver at the touch, then she lowered herself further until she was close enough to kiss it.

Justine closed her eyes and breathed in the heavy, earthy scent of her sister’s mons. And when her lips touched Kelly’s skin, it was as if a jolt of electricity ran from one body to the other. Justine felt the soft skin under her lips as she closed kiss after kiss against the scar next to her twin sister’s pussy. With each tiny smacking noise, with each moistening of the skin, she grew more and more passionate, her heart beating faster and harder. She also felt the inescapable tickling and warmth between her own legs.

Kelly moaned softly, rocking slightly as Justine teased and kissed her pubis. “Oh Justine. Oh, God. Yes. Yes, it feels so good.”

Her fingers wound through Justine’ hair — tentatively at first then, with each new kiss, holding on with greater strength. She gently guided her sister’s face, drawing Justine’s lips towards her clitoris. “Lick me there, oh God please lick me there…”

Justine responded and, when the first flick of her tongue stroked the already-hardened bud, Kelly felt a shiver run down her right thigh. Justine remained on her knees, face angled upward to make love to Kelly with her mouth. She steadied her hands on her twin’s buttocks, pressing and kneading them as she tongued the juicy flesh with more and more vigour.

After a few moments, Kelly could not control the shaking in her legs and gave way to gravity’s pull, slowly falling backwards onto the bed. Justine climbed up to meet her sister face to face, and the two immediately sought each other’s mouths, each hungry for the kiss of the other.

Kelly tasted herself on Justine’s tongue, and this only turned her on even more. Her clitoris screamed for more attention, so she held on tightly to her sister as Justine wedged a leg between hers.

The two sisters began to rub their pussies against each other’s thighs. Kelly felt the heat of Justine beneath the fabric of her sister’s panties, and that only made the moment more erotic. They dry-fucked each other for some time, revelling in the heat and closeness of each other’s bodies.

Kelly could still taste herself from Justine’s kiss, but she wanted more — she wanted to taste Justine herself, the first and only woman she would ever make love to.

“Lie back,” she breathed into Justine’s ear. “Lie back, sis.”

Justine knelt up, away from the bed, keeping Kelly’s right leg between hers, taking hold of the warm thigh with both hands and firmly pressing it against her vulva. She ground herself against it, staring into Kelly’s beautiful green eyes as she did so.

“Do you want me?” she said, desperate to rip off those sodden knickers and feel her sister’s bare skin against her pussy.

Kelly, with nothing to hold onto, had clamped her hands onto her chest, kneading and squeezing her small breasts with a roughness she knew she enjoyed. “Oh — oh, so much!” she cried, knowing she meant it.

She had never wanted a woman before. She’d never wanted anyone as much as she wanted Justine. More than that, Kelly knew that she could never have imagined wanting someone so much. She craved Justine in every way possible — in every kind of love two women could share, in every act and conversation of her life, in everything. She wanted her sister wholly, selfishly and without guilt. “Lie down, lie down,” she repeated.

Justine eventually fell back onto the sheets, grinning. “God, I’m so horny!” she said.

Kelly, giving herself up to desire, felt no reluctance in what she was doing now, no inhibition. She had nothing to rebel against anymore, just her heart’s desire lying before her on the bed.

She knelt up, remembering only at the last moment that she was still wearing a hair scrunchie on her wrist. Tugging it off, she roughly tied her unruly hair into a ponytail. Then, sliding her body over her sister’s and lowering herself between Justine’s legs, she began to kiss Justine from the neck down. She took her time despite the urgency of her desire, wanting to savour every moment her lips touched Justine’s skin, every tiny pore of sweat and scent from her twin sister’s body.

Kelly was aware that Justine had reached down with her right hand to masturbate. She longed to replace her sister’s fingers with her own, but concentrated instead on there here and now — kissing the tiny depression south of the collarbone, trailing a path with the tip of her tongue toward the curves of her sister’s tight, small breasts.

Justine moaned at her sister’s touch, heart beating wildly. Her nipples were bullet-hard, achingly sensitive under Kelly’s lips as the Ashford girl alternated from the right breast to the left, then back again.

Gripping Justine’s rib cage with gentle but urgent fingers, Kelly slid further and further down, tracing a line of kisses over Justine’s impossibly taut and toned stomach. When she reached her sister’s pubis, Kelly stopped, her chin grazing against the lace elastic of Justine’s panties. Keeping her head low, she brought her hands down and tugged at the waistband. Justine responded by raising her hips, allowing Kelly to tug them even further. Justine brought her legs up and drew them together, bending at the knee to slip the panties over her ankles and off. Then she lowered her legs back down to the bed to frame her twin sister’s beautiful face.

Kelly, resuming her position between Justine’s thighs, marvelled at the short, tight, golden curls of her lover’s vulva, so neatly trimmed. The sight and nearness of another woman’s pussy shifted Kelly’s sex drive into an even higher gear.

She pressed her lips against the soft fur, breathing deeply of the heady, earthy scent of Justine’s femininity. To each side of her face, Kelly turned and kissed, loving the tender sweetness of Justine’s inner thighs.

And then, with infinite slowness, she lowered her head to the perfect slit that lay nestled beneath that golden fur, reached out with her tongue and drew it slowly upwards over Justine’s clitoris. The taste was sweet and earthy, utterly sexual and unlike anything she could have imagined. She lowered her head and did it again, and again, each time adding in something different — a kiss to the hardened bud as she drew upwards, a double kiss to either side of the engorged slit.

Kelly felt her sister shiver under her lovemaking, then Justine’s hands were writhing into her hair, pulling and ragging at the rough order the ponytail had given her. Justine was moaning, whispering incoherent words, bucking her hips up against Kelly every time her sister’s lips and tongue made contact.

“Oh Kelly, don’t stop. Don’t stop,” Justine cried, feeling a rising wave of eroticism building from the lower pit of her tummy. “Oh God, don’t stop!”

Her sister reacted with renewed vigour; licking and sucking at Justine’s pussy as though she would never be able to get enough. Kelly used her hands to spread the lips of her sister’s slit, opening the engorged pink flesh to further attention. And when she slipped one, then two fingers into Justine’s vaginal cleft, it seemed the most natural thing on earth.

For Justine, the feeling of Kelly’s fingers inside her brought the wave of eroticism to a roaring crash. She felt the orgasm rip through her body, sensitising every pore, every hair, every tiny millimetre of her skin as though she’d been electrified from within.

She gripped Kelly’s face with both hands, torn between the desire for more of her sister’s lovemaking and the need to catch her breath after being battered senseless by pleasure.

Kelly forced the compromise when, sensing she’d done enough for now, she crawled up Justine’s trembling body and laid on top of her, covering her sister’s mouth with her own to share the wet desire of Justine’s pussy — just as they had done moments ago with the roles reversed.

Justine’s hands cupped Kelly’s face between them, framing her beauty as the two women kissed.

“Oh, my sister,” whispered Kelly, breathing between kisses. “You make me feel so alive.”

Continue on to Chapter 6

By Shay

{ This story was originally posted at the now-defunct Sisters in Love }

I’d come over to my mom’s house for the evening, and believe me, it wasn’t some horrid duty visit — but rather, a joy to me to be able to be welcomed in her door and know I could let my hair down and relax with Mom and her wife Clarissa.

They’ve been together seven years, since I was thirteen. You might expect that I would have resented Clarissa then; after all, my mother Vicki was going from the usual heterosexual (and bad) marriage and a life in suburbia to being with another woman as a lover, and buying this house in an area known for its gay-friendliness.

But I didn’t resent Clarissa at all. I knew that my beautiful mother hadn’t been happy for the two years that it was just her and me, though I knew very well that I was loved. Then, when Clarissa dropped into our lives, Mom just lit up, right from the start. I knew Mom loved her beautiful curly-haired blonde lady long before I chanced upon them wrapped in each other’s arms on the couch, kissing and grasping tenderly at each other, one night when I had gotten up for a glass of water.

They had heard me when the floorboard near the stairs creaked, and for a moment, they went stock still and I heard my mom take in a sharp breath. But somehow I’d known what to do. I loved them both, and I loved the happiness that they were creating together, and I wanted to see it grow and be a part of it.

So I smiled at them by the dimness of the night light in the hall, and I said softly, “I think it’s beautiful, Mom. All of it. Please don’t stop. I’ll leave you two together.” And then I padded back to my room and lay for a long time on my back, smiling up at the ceiling of my room.

I thought of how right the two of them seemed in each other’s arms, and I couldn’t help letting my mind linger on the sight of my beautiful raven-haired mom with her arms around Clarissa, lips pressed to her girl’s soft mouth as she sighed in that way that I now know only women do.

As I thought about what I’d seen, my whole body seemed to flush with warmth and my arms and legs tingled. Just as my hand was seeming to move lower all of its own accord, my fingertips at the top of my pajama bottoms, Mom walked in and gently sat on my bed next to me.

“Raven,” she said softly in the darkness. Then her hand touched my face and I opened my eyes and looked at her sitting so near, just as I loved for her to do.

“Mom.”

She petted my dark hair and she asked me if I was really all right. “You surprised us, sweetheart.”

“I know, Mom.” I shrugged in the shadows. “I’m sorry!”

Mom shushed me as she always had when she wanted to soothe me. “Shhhhhh, sweetheart. Don’t apologize… this is your home. And what I really meant was that you surprised us by what you said. That was so sweet, darling. Did — did you really mean it?”

“Yes, Mom!” How could I make her understand that I adored them and their beautiful relationship? “I really, really did.”

With that, Mom gathered me up in her arms and held me to her beautiful warm body. My face was in her black hair, so much like mine, and I loved the smell of lavender and… and woman, that emanated from her.

I had the wild urge to ask her to kiss me as she’d been kissing Clarissa. I swear, for a moment I longed to beg her to show me what it means to be kissed — really kissed — by a woman as desirable as my mother was. And is.

The tingling returned as she held me in her arms, along with the feeling of being deliciously warm, like when you first step out of a steamy shower. “Mom,” I whispered.

“Yes, love?”

I smiled against her hair and whispered, “Nothing. Just… I love you, Mom.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, using her hands on my unresisting arms to gently push me back so she could look at me there in the cozy dimness. “I love you, too. So much.” And then my mother kissed me on the mouth, so tenderly. Was it my imagination, or did Mom’s soft lips linger just a little longer than ever before? I decided that I wanted to believe that they had.

I slept that night in complete contentment, occasionally stretching and savoring the feel of my body, remembering my mother’s wonderful kiss and how it had felt to be in her arms in the dark of my familiar bedroom.

So there I was, seven years later, arriving “home” to lick my wounds in the wake of my breakup with Gina, my Italian girlfriend who had dumped me the week before. Gina, with her irresistible mane of dark hair. People had often asked us if we were sisters, and we would laugh and say no. I’d always found it funny that people asked us that, but after a time I sensed that it had begun to wear on Gina.

Of course we hadn’t broken up over that. One night after I’d concluded a long telephone conversation with my mom, Gina had dropped her issue of Vogue she had pretended to be reading, and gave me a look, one I knew always meant an argument.

“Why don’t you cut the cord already, Rave?”

“What…” I faltered. “The phone?”

Gina had rolled her eyes in exasperation. “No, not the phone! Don’t be dense, Raven!” Her eyes were flashing dangerously.

I spread my hands in complete mystification.

“Your mother, Rave! Cut the damn umbilical cord already! She lives a block away, you call her or she calls you every day. Who do you really love, Raven? Why don’t you just go over there and fuck the woman you really want?” Gina was crying by then.

“What are you saying, Gina, that’s so unfair!” She rose and quickly exited the room. I tried to catch her, to bring her to her senses if I could, but a slammed door was all I got. She moved out the next day and I was still dazed from it all.

Though, to be honest, Gina had been right, something really was missing between us, even though I’d sincerely wanted to be everything she needed. And so I was feeling low.

“There’s our girl!” came a welcoming voice, Clarissa’s, as I let myself in the front door. She came across the living room and gave me a warm hug as I smiled at Mom over her wife’s shoulder and gave her a little wave, though I was mostly being held captive by Clarissa’s slender loving arms.

Mom came up on my left, and I found myself being escorted by two ravishing women!

“How are you feeling, love?” asked Mom with a look of concern as we walked slowly into the large, comfortable living room.

I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I’m heart-sore, but I’ll live,” I smiled — bravely, I hoped.

My mother brought her fingers to her full lips, the lips I’d received my first real kiss from, and kissed the tips, where her French nails showed white and stylish. Then she gently placed her fingers over my heart and said, “Here, I’m kissing it better.”

And then, as she took her hand away, I swore the sides of her fingers grazed my breast in a feather-soft caress. She gave me the most reassuring motherly smile. And then we were talking, and laughing, and the world sped up to normal again.

We had a wonderful meal of vegetarian lasagna and salad, with fresh bread from the bakery Mom had discovered on Linden street. There was also a bottle of red wine, which Clarissa assured me would make me forget Gina in a jiffy.

“You’re trying to get me drunk. You two have designs on me!” I joked, and my mother’s house filled with feminine laughter, just as it had so often when I was growing up in the years after Clarissa had moved in.

“Let’s watch a movie. Want to?” asked my mom as she began clearing dishes.

“Sure,” I enthusiastically agreed. “And stop that, Mom. Let me be your kitchen slave tonight. I’ll clean up.”

“Oh, myyyyy,” drawled Clarissa with an arched eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up, Rissa,” I scolded her happily.

Twenty minutes later Mom and Clarissa were hand in hand on one end of the couch, with Clarissa resting her head on Mom’s slender shoulder while I sat at the other end.

Mom picked up the remote from the table and turned on Steel Magnolias.

Clarissa kicked me in the leg with her foot.

“What?” I asked.

She kicked me again, her small pretty foot lightly jabbing my thigh.

“Nothing. What?” she smirked.

“What?”

“What what?”

She kicked me a third time and I pounced. She shrieked like a teenager as I pummeled her with a throw pillow and pretended to pound her to a pulp. Clarissa was all flailing arms and legs as she begged for my mother to save her from her insane daughter.

By the time we subsided, and our laughter had run down to a basic giggle fit, we were all in a comfortable pile on the couch, just as we’d so often been in the past. I had my head on Mom’s lap and Clarissa lay half on me, but with her curly blonde head back on Mom’s shoulder and her arms across my middle. It felt nice. It felt like home.

Clarissa leaned over to kiss Mom. Mom purred and kissed her lover back. The sounds of two women making out flowed over my ears.

“Hey, you two lovebirds,” I mock-scolded, but they completely ignored me, just as they’d always done when I pretended to be bothered by their demonstrations of affection. They knew I loved seeing them that way, that it fed something in my heart. The energy of a home where two women love together is different, and I think better, than anyplace else. I lay there soaking in their affection for each other, as I’d always loved to do.

Clarissa began unthinkingly stroking my tummy as she kissed my mother. I knew she was lost in my mother’s desire and love, and not really aware of what her hand was doing. But oh… I confess that I loved being stroked like that by her. I adored Clarissa nearly as much as I worshiped my mom. And I’d always found her so hot.

I had eased myself to sleep many times to images in my mind of either, or both, of them. Why not? I always reasoned. They’re beautiful, they love me, and I love them.

Once, they had even heard me cry out as I had a delicious orgasm, thinking about them. Mom had appeared at the door, wondering if I needed her.

“I thought I heard you call,” she’d said. I was so glad it was too dark for her to see me blushing furiously.

“You two are so gorgeous, kissing like that,” I said, looking up at them from Mom’s lap. She shifted her leg slightly underneath me and stroked my hair as she continued to exchange little tender kisses with Clarissa.

“I hope I can find a woman to love, the way you two love each other,” I sighed.

“C’mere,” urged my mother softly. She drew me up so that I was sitting in the middle, between the two most important women in my world. Mom took my face gently in her hand and kissed me as Clarissa watched. I felt enveloped in warmth. Somehow it seemed absolutely natural as my mother kept on kissing me as Clarissa stroked my hair and murmured, “Nice…so nice.”

I was melting. Whatever they were giving me, I wanted it so badly — like a rose wants water and sun.

Mom drew back slowly and whispered, “Raven….”

“Oh Mom,” I half-sighed, half-moaned. “Please kiss me again! Please.”

My mother brought her soft sensuous lips to mine once again, and we kissed like long lost lovers right in from of Clarissa.

Mom was the best kisser. She just naturally knew how to make a girl melt in her arms. And that’s what she was doing to me now, gently entering my mouth with her tongue and giving me the most sensuous, beautiful French kiss of my young life.

Then I felt warmth at my ear and Clarissa began nibbling and kissing me there as Mom possessed my eager lips. Two strikingly beautiful women, lovers, my own adored mother and her sexy wife, were both kissing me. And I was lost in the sheer heaven of it. I sighed and squirmed slightly in my mother’s arms.

“Baby,” she purred. I felt as if she were kissing my soul. I could never have opened up so instantly to anyone but my mother — who, after all, had carried me in her own body, next to her softly beating heart. My mother, who had given me life and cherished that life, always.

I had come from her, in love and intimacy. No connection could be more primal or more powerful. And I knew. I wanted to come back to her now, right now, but as a woman.

“God, I love you so much, Mom,” I managed to confess between kisses. “I want you, I’ve always wanted to be utterly yours. Mommm, oh Mom—” and then we were lost once more in urgent kisses. It was a sweet, loving, totally knowing connection. The kind only a mother and daughter can experience.

Clarissa got up and took my hand. “C’mon, sweet one… tear yourself away from that ravishing mother of yours long enough to come to bed.”

The shock of what Clarissa had just said tore through me like a sweet lightning bolt.

Clarissa raised an eyebrow at me and with a lovingly amused smile, said, “Yes, sweet pea. You’re invited.”

Mom got up with me and with our arms around each other, we followed Clarissa into the master bedroom, turning our heads to keep kissing as we did. I shivered with uncontrollable excitement as Mom slipped her hand across my ass in a thrillingly proprietary and sexual gesture.

Together, the most important women in my life undressed me and ran their hands over the soft smooth skin of my young body. Clarissa drew her fingers through my dark hair with a look of pure desire on her beautiful face.

“You’re stunning,” she said in a voice I’d only heard her use with Mom before that moment. Then Clarissa took my face gently in both of her hands and kissed me like a lover. My knees buckled and I needed Mom’s help to make it to the bed, where I lay between them, their bare bodies pressed to mine from both sides.

There is nothing, no experience possible, that matches being taken into bed with two glorious women who both love and desire you, knowing that one of them is your own mother, that she wants you the way you have wanted her for so many years. And that the other is her wife and in reality your mother too, in the way you’ve always shared that special bond. But now they are revealed in all of their glory as sexual beings as well. Offering that incredible sexy beauty to you. On that night.

“Mom,” I moaned helplessly as she stroked my body. Responding to her child’s need, my mother leaned over me and held my face between her warm full breasts as Clarissa sighed at the beauty of what she was seeing and lightly caressed my thighs and yes — ohhhh yes — my vulva.

I kissed Mom’s breasts as if I’d been born for it. I covered each one in adoring, urgent, needful kisses and then, with a little cry of total pleasure, I took her nipple into my mouth and sucked it long and deep, relishing the feel of her sweet flesh, and also the idea of being taken back by her, so very willingly, becoming one with my mother again.

I cried out in animal enjoyment as Clarissa slipped her finger inside me and cooed, “Yes, sweetheart, give in. Let us love you, be ours, you never have to leave.” With those words, the most powerful orgasm of my life ripped through me, carrying me on a sweet electric wave of the most intense — and most primal — pleasure imaginable. My mother held me to her full, warm, exciting breasts and I felt as if she was sharing in my climax herself.

I screamed my pleasure into her soft flesh. “Oh, Mommy!” I gasped.

“Shhhhh,” she cooed as my pussy contracted around Clarissa’s slender fingers again and again, the sweet aftershocks of feminine rapture.

Mom brought her mouth gently down on mine in a hard, crushing kiss. Then she slowly moved on top of me, like she owned me — and now she did, oh she did, once and for all, forever and always. All I could do was beg her to fuck me, beg as her lover stroked us both and made soft approving sounds in her clear, lovely voice.

“Your daughter wants you, Vick,” urged Clarissa. “Look at her, she’s wild, she’s ready to mate — with you, my love. She’s needs her mother to mate with her for life.”

With her wife’s words, something seemed to break down inside Mom, and she was on me, loving me, as if all the passion she possessed were driving her to take me and make me permanently her own.

Her breath was ragged and desperate as she rubbed herself against me. “Rave… Raven…” she panted, out of control now. “I’ve always wanted you… always wanted you… to come home to me… to… t-to come….”

We lit up together like a new star, my mother and I — joined as one, touching souls, our bodies wrapped tightly and desperately together, lost and transported in the utter bliss of our lovemaking. It was always meant to be.

My hands were resting on my mother’s shapely ass as I tried to gather my wits. That’s probably the only reason I was aware of Clarissa leaning over to lick Mom’s ass, because the sexy soft roundness of her breast pressed against my wrist as she did. As Clarissa loved her this way, more aftershocks rippled through my mother as she lay on top of me as my lover.

Mom, Clarissa, and I spent the rest of the night and all the next day in bed together, joyfully exploring what we’d allowed to come into bloom in the richness of our bodies and our hearts.

Two weeks later, I sold my house and moved in with Mom and Clarissa. They both put on jeans and sweatshirts and helped me move my things in. We put my extra things in the spare bedroom for the time being.

You see, we only actually sleep in the master bedroom in the house where I grew up lavished with the love of two incredible women. They are my cherished past and my exciting sensual future. My mothers. My lovers. My home.

The End

By Cassie

For Justine, the day passed far too quickly. They spent a little more time in the surroundings of Dover Castle, laughing and joking all the while, learning more about each other — what they liked and disliked, what they got out of life, what they wanted out of life.

For Kelly, it was finding the soul mate she’d never had. For Justine, it was finding the love of her life.

Everything Kelly did — from the little sidelong smiles behind the curls of her red hair, to the way she’d kick up little clouds of dirt with the toe of her foot as she walked — everything about her was perfect. Even her “estuary” accent, her voice and her mannerisms were charming.

On the way home, Justine asked one of the questions she’d been thinking about.

“Kelly, you told me earlier that you’d had an accident ‘down there’. Was it really bad?”

At once, the tone of the conversation changed. The once smiling Kelly became morose and quiet. Justine knew that she’d just made a serious error, and did something she learned once from a management course at work. She jerked as though hit by an electric shock, making the steering wheel wobble and the car veer left, then right. Both girls cried out, and Justine slowed the car down and stopped beside the road.

“Are you all right?” Kelly said, reaching over and putting a hand on Justine’s knee.

Justine pretended to be stunned for a second, then returned a shaky smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. Feels like I got an electric shock or something from the steering wheel. I’m okay now.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Really. I’m fine.”

Justine revved the engine and pulled back out onto the road. She felt Kelly squeeze her knee for reassurance, and smiled inwardly. Sneaky bitch, she thought of herself. You upset your twin sister, then get her to touch your thigh. Nice.

Once they were moving, Justine talked about an incident years ago where she’d been hit by an electric shock at a supermarket. She supposed she was simply prone to that kind of thing now. They returned to their casual chitchat, and Justine made a careful mental note to herself about where the boundaries of their relationship lay.

Back at Kelly’s house, the Ashford girl insisted that Justine stay for dinner. Justine put up a paper fight against it, but was very easily swayed. Truth be known, it would have taken wild horses to drag her away.

And so, as the evening drew in and the moon peeped out, the two identical women shared a brief meal together, then sat and enjoyed a bad bottle of red wine. It was truly awful, but made the two of them loosen up a bit more. They spoke about schoolgirl crushes and the silly things they did at college.

Then Kelly grew wistful as she spoke of her late husband Dave. It was uncomfortable for Justine to listen to this — she wanted to talk about each other, damn it, not some man who still held a corner of Kelly’s heart — but her sister was in the mood to talk of intimate things, and wasn’t about to stop. She spoke of missing her husband, and of some of the romantic things he’d done for her, but there was also a detachment to what she said. There was something else about her marriage to Dave, a thing she couldn’t express, nor Justine identify. It led the two into an awkward silence, and Justine muttered something about maybe going home.

Kelly, at once, sprang to life again and sat forward in the sofa she’d been curled up into.

“You can’t go! Not in your state!”

“I could get a taxi, maybe, if I had to,” muttered Justine.

Kelly giggled, rose from the sofa, came over to Justine’s armchair and took her sister’s hand.

“You ain’t going anywhere, sis,” she said, then surprised herself. “Hey, I called you ‘sis’!” she said, amazed at her own choice of words. The two giggled, and Justine clung to Kelly’s hand.

“Are you sure?” she said, trying to sound genuine.

“’Course I am!” said Kelly. She stood up, a little unsteadily, beckoning for Justine to follow her. “So we might as well get cozy and have another bottle of wine, right?”

Justine smiled.

It was halfway through their next bottle that Justine realised she was getting pretty drunk. And so, clearly, was Kelly. So it only came as a little shock when Kelly suddenly became conspiratorial and said, “Hey, d’ya wanna see something?”

Justine grinned and nodded. Kelly looked over both shoulders — for dramatic effect, Justine suspected — then stood up and unbuttoned her combat trousers. Justine immediately felt a quickening of her heartbeat, but watched; rapt.

“I ain’t showed no one this since Dave died,” said Kelly, pushing her trousers down below her hips and stepping out of them. Justine ran her eyes up and down Kelly’s long, smooth legs. Are mine like that? she wondered. Kelly then hooked her thumbs under the elastic of her panties and slipped them, too, down her legs. Justine felt her heart thud inside her chest. It was like seeing something incredibly taboo, and extraordinarily exciting. “But we’re sisters, right?” Kelly said. Justine nodded.

“Look,” Kelly said, running a finger down the side of her mons as she covered herself with her other hand.

Justine got onto her hands and knees and crawled over to where Kelly stood. She stopped, still kneeling, on the floor in front of her half-naked sister. She gazed at the finger Kelly stroked along the side of her pubis. The skin between her legs was completely bald; not a hair or a piece of shaved stubble on it. Along the skin where Kelly placed her finger was a long, jagged red scar. The skin had healed over a long time ago, but the flesh had puckered badly and the scar ran further than Justine could see.

“Pretty fuckin’ ugly, right?” said Kelly, laughing.

Justine didn’t want to laugh. She didn’t think it was ugly, either. She thought it was beautiful and wanted nothing more than to lean across and kiss it. Kiss it better, and keep on kissing it. Somehow, in some way she would later fail to understand, she managed to resist that urge. But her heart was pumping, the wine was tingling in her veins, and her body was getting flushed with an extraordinary desire.

There was a brief pause as this scenario seemed to stop time for a moment, then awkward reality set back in.

Kelly shrugged, made a brief clucking noise and stepped back, bending down to retrieve her panties and combat trousers. As she pulled them up, a dazed Justine sat back against the sofa, feeling a strange mixture of foolishness, pity, envy and guilt. Especially guilt.

What on earth was she doing, staring at her new sister’s private parts like that? Even though she’d been invited to look, it was too much. Justine desperately wanted to clear her head, run away, take Kelly in her arms, and drink more wine, all at the same time. She felt young and foolish, not at all like the professional grown-up woman she was supposed to be. Trying and failing to think of the right thing to say, Justine rose unsteadily and said she needed to use the toilet.

As she walked up the stairs to the small but neat bathroom Kelly had, Justine tried to calm her racing pulse. She shut the door behind her and sat for a moment on the closed lid of the toilet, struggling to gather her thoughts.

Nothing came. She was a blank. A void. She couldn’t even find a conflict within her mind to wrestle over. She was just a bag of nerves and emotions.

Shaking off the urge to have a good cry, she stood up, splashed her face with water and trudged back downstairs.

Kelly had turned on the TV while Justine was upstairs and looked back, smiling, as Justine re-entered the room. “Hey, you. I was just catching up on the news.”

Kelly reached for the remote control, but Justine stopped her. “Let’s find out what the latest crises are, shall we?”

Rather than plonk back down on the armchair she’d been in earlier, Justine walked over to the sofa that Kelly was curled up on. Without a word, Kelly uncurled her legs to make room for her twin sister.

The two sat amiably for twenty minutes — watching the news, only saying a word here or there. Finally Kelly yawned and, caught by the same infection, Justine held a hand over her mouth as she yawned too. They glanced at each other and grinned.

“Right pair of party animals we are, right?” said Kelly.

Justine nodded. “Is there anything else on?”

“Let’s have a look, then,” said Kelly, fiddling with the remote control buttons. She started cycling through a host of TV and movie channels. “So many damn channels,” she mumbled. “Haven’t even looked at half of these. What’s that one?”

“It’s, erm, something about an action game show… or something,” Justine said, equally unsure.

“Action game show? Bloody weird.”

They sat together, Kelly cycling through the networks until Justine suddenly stopped her, caught by a crazy idea that momentarily flashed through her brain. “Go back! Go back to that last one a few channels ago.”

Kelly cycled back and Justine said, “There! Stop on that one. I love this show!”

Kelly frowned, straining to look at the screen. “The L Word? Isn’t that the lesbian show?”

“More like Sex in the City, but, um, with only girls!” said Justine, trying to sound enthusiastic. In truth, she’d never seen the show before.

They sat silently for a while and watched as the characters interacted in a scene where one woman was reluctantly leaving her lover. It ended with a brief kissing scene as the two women struggled with their feelings for each other.

“Blimey,” said Kelly, her eyes going wide in awe. Justine gave her a sidelong glance but didn’t speak as the action began to heat up a little between the two actresses.

The scene moved on and, a little later, Justine casually said, “That blonde girl’s very pretty.”

Kelly made a ‘mmm-hmm’ sound, but did not elaborate. After a while, she turned to her sister. “You’re… into women? I thought you was engaged or something,” she said, quietly.

Justine tried to be nonchalant. “Yeah, but I’ve always been kinda broad-minded, and this is a great show,” she said.

They watched in silence for a moment.

“Y’know, Dave used to tell me off sometimes,” Kelly offered.

Justine eased a hand across the small space between them and poked a finger playfully into Kelly’s ribs. “Because you’re no good at rhyming?”

Kelly shot her sister a brief smile, then turned back to the TV. Her hand reflexively made a move toward Justine’s, then slowly withdrew without making contact.

“Nah. Nothing like that,” she said. Her voice was sad, somehow. Justine bit her lip, waiting for Kelly to continue.

“He was a very routine man, my Dave,” Kelly said, lost in some kind of memory. “Liked his things just so, and didn’t have any truck with nonsense.”

There was another pause as another scene played between two different women. Justine was aware that her hand, which had only just poked her sister’s ribs, was still resting on Kelly’s hip. She squeezed gently; a show of support.

“When we were married,” Kelly said, her gaze fixed on the TV but still in a faraway place, “Dave used to like making love every Saturday morning and every Sunday night. Very regular. Very… ordinary. No fancy stuff. Once or twice, I brought home some nice underwear and he liked that.” Kelly smiled at the memory, and turned the sad smile to face her sister. “But then, I went to one Ann Summers’ party — you know the kind, right? Well, I got some kinky outfits. Nothing weird. Just a bit of PVC with fluffy cuffs and that kind of thing.”

She paused for another moment; lost once more in thought. “Dave hated it. Called me a slut. Said I was no better than a bloody pervert.”

There was lull in which a terrible silence could have developed, but Justine couldn’t let herself sit still. She shifted in the sofa and leaned across to her sister, enfolding her in a gentle embrace.

At first Kelly didn’t move. Then, as Justine’s hug squeezed some genuine love and affection into her, Kelly unwrapped her arms and put them round her sister, holding her close.

They stayed that way for a long while, then Justine breathed into her sister’s ear that it would all be okay. Kelly nodded, but silent tears ran down her cheeks and muffled any reply.

The two finally broke apart, but still held onto each other’s hands. Kelly didn’t seem to care that her face was tear-streaked. She stared again at the TV, not really watching. Before long, though, she found herself engrossed in the plot once more.

Eventually, the show finished. Kelly turned and smiled awkwardly at Justine. “Gotta admit, I was getting quite into that at the end,” she said.

Justine rolled her eyes. “Broadminded, right? See, we must be sisters!”

“Must be,” Kelly laughed, squeezing her sister’s hand.

Justine felt her heart beat a little faster. “Shall I stay here on the sofa, then?” she said, nodding toward the clock.

Kelly bristled. “‘Course not! No twin sister of mine stays on a bloody sofa! I’ve got the spare room all set. It’s upstairs, across the landing from my room.”

“Come on,” she continued, punching the remote control to kill the TV picture. Kelly stood up and held out a hand for her sister.

Justine looked up and smiled as she saw Kelly standing over her, extending her hand. She took it and stood up. For a brief moment, the two were as close together as lovers, and Justine felt the warmth of Kelly’s breath on her cheek. She could smell the mix of cheap wine and some fragrance that was similar to her own but subtly different. She felt the heat and proximity of the other woman’s body as the two stood awkwardly for a moment, smiling shyly at one another.

“Come on,” Kelly said again, turning away and moving off. Once again, Justine felt that primal urge to reach out and touch her sister, draw her close, hold her tight. And once again, she resisted that urge. Instead, she followed Kelly up the narrow staircase to her first floor, then along the corridor.

“Here’s your room,” said Kelly, opening the door to a small room with one window at the far side. There was a single bed, a large prefabricated wooden wardrobe, a small chest of drawers and not much else in the room. A typical spare room that never got furnished because it never got used.

Justine looked round, and smiled wanly at her sister. “Where’s your room again?” she asked.

“At the other end,” said Kelly, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Just past the stairs. The bathroom’s that first door on the right, almost opposite. Help yourself to anything you need. There’s an unused toothbrush in the cabinet.”

“Thanks,” said Justine. “I’ll check my e-mails and let you use the bathroom first.”

Kelly arched an eyebrow. “E-mails?”

Justine fished out the Blackberry from her pocket. “Ten quid says I’ve got at least three from work.”

“At this bloody hour? On the weekend? Euggh. Good luck.”

Kelly leaned across and embraced her sister briefly, a small, shoulder to shoulder embrace, then kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“Night-night.”

“‘Night, Kelly,” Justine replied. She watched her sister leave and then closed the door. She sat down on the bed to take a deep breath and calm her beating heart.

*****

Justine waited until she couldn’t hear any movement outside her room, then padded out into the hallway, still in her clothes. The house seemed still, quiet. She entered the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth with the toothbrush Kelly had left. Tying her hair into a rough ponytail, Justine padded back to the guest room. The house was very quiet by this time, and she was able to gather her thoughts.

She shut herself back into the room and slowly undressed. The day had been a long one, but somehow, the moments together with Kelly had flown by. It was warm in the room and Justine sat on the bed, naked. She thought back to each moment she spent with Kelly and tried to think through what had happened.

There was this awful nervousness between them, and that was natural — but there were also moments of brilliant clarity, and something close to sameness where they copied or shared a gesture, or way of saying something. Neither could have done those things consciously. And there had been a wonderful intimacy, too — holding hands, smiling with lips and eyes, the closeness. And honesty. That was the thing, Justine decided. There was the brutal honesty. Kelly had offered up her most vivid secrets to Justine. Secrets you would never tell someone you didn’t trust, or care for — or love.

And what had Justine offered in return? Had she spoken of her relationship with David? Her extraordinary visit to Portugal, the excitement and shame of her first sex with another woman? Her friendship with Jan, the website editor? No. She had not talked about any of those things.

Justine’s guilt began to consume her. She hadn’t told Kelly those things — but even worse, she’d omitted the most important secret of all; the one she simply had to share. That she loved Kelly, loved her in a way that no woman, no sister, could easily admit to. And that was the truth that really mattered.

Justine sat for a long time and wrestled with these thoughts. And, after a long time she stood, her mind made up. Slipping into panties and a t-shirt, she took a deep breath, then opened the bedroom door.

She made her way down the lit hallway, all but oblivious to the rest of the world around her, eyes fixed on the door that separated her from Kelly. Her mind was a wild whirl of impressions, all centered around her sister: memories of the day they had just shared, images of a childhood that should have been spent with Kelly but weren’t, fantasies of what the future might hold for her — for them.

All these things rattled through Justine’s head as she stepped up to the door and laid her fingers on the handle. She gripped the cold metal knob and turned, then the door slowly opened, admitting her to Kelly’s bedroom.

Justine felt a moment of panic as the reality of what she was doing began to assert itself. The room was dark, gloomy, and there was nothing she could see by. No faint shaft of moonlight through a window. No nightlight fixed to the skirting board.

That sense of panic began to rise inside, flowing from her chest to her throat, threatening to paralyse her. But then Justine saw movement — a shape beneath a duvet shifted in the dark and she realised she could see after all.

There was a pause as Justine began to speak — but suddenly she was unable to, the things she wanted to say vanished in a heartbeat.

The duvet moved again and a form rose on one elbow. “Justine? Is that you?” The voice was bleary, thick with freshly-blanketed sleep.

In her mind, Justine smiled and sighed, saying: Yes, it’s me, Justine. I’ve come here because I’m in love with you, and I need to tell you that. But from her incapable, treacherous mouth, no words came.

Kelly shielded her eyes from the corona of the hallway light that framed her sister’s outline. “Justine? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Concern. And love. Justine could hear nothing but love and concern in Kelly’s tone. And finally, her own voice began to work again.

“I’m… I was scared,” she said. “Of the dark.”

There was an awkward pause, and then the duvet shifted for a third time. Justine saw Kelly’s form shuffle to one side beneath the covers, making a gap where her body had been.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” Kelly murmured comfortingly. “Come and sleep with me. There’s plenty of room.”

It was an invitation Justine couldn’t refuse. Coming closer, she placed the palm of her hand onto the bed. It was warm. Warm from her sister’s body, and so soothing to touch.

She slipped quietly under the duvet as her sister shifted to make more space. Justine drew the covers over her body and felt the heat, the immediacy of her sister, now lying next to her.

The scent of Kelly filled Justine’s nostrils and she knew that never in her life had she ever felt such perfect eroticism or belonging. This was where she was meant to be, by her sister’s side.

Kelly lay quietly, her back to Justine. She reached behind and groped for her sister’s hand. She found it.

“It’ll be okay, sis,” she said, sleepily. “You’ll be fine. Rest now.”

Justine held onto her sister’s hand for as long as she could, then released it.

Later, when she was sure that Kelly was fast asleep, Justine dared to shift in minute increments under the duvet covers, drawing towards her sister’s sleeping form. When at last, she could feel the length of Kelly’s sleeping body pressed against her own, Justine felt as if that her heart might burst with love.

But it didn’t. And in the morning, their bodies had somehow reversed, and Justine woke to the smell and feel of Kelly’s embrace at her back. She lay still, bathing in that perfect, magical moment, not wanting to awaken her sister and break the spell.

And when Kelly dragged herself from her slumber, the biggest surprise Justine had was the tightening of her sister’s embrace, drawing their bodies even closer together.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.“

“Hey there, yourself.“

Justine closed her eyes, feeling a prickle of absolute bliss as Kelly planted a warm kiss on her neck.

“Let’s not get up right away,” Kelly yawned. “I feel like being lazy today, how about you?”

“Oh, I’m happy just like this,” Justine replied, fully aware of the truth in her words.

The two young sisters lay in bed together, resting peacefully.

Continue on to Chapter 5

By Anne

{ This story was originally posted at the now-defunct Sisters in Love }

My door slowly creaked open and my older sister Kate slipped into the darkness of my room, slowly shutting the door behind her. I wasn’t asleep yet, and my eyes were already used to the dark. She was dressed for bed in a nightshirt. I couldn’t imagine why she came into my room. She never did that. We barely talked at all, except for when we had to. It’s not that we didn’t get along, we got along fine, we usually just had nothing to say to each other. She had her life, and I had mine.

Kate is two years older than me. She is away at college now, and we still don’t talk all that much but I think about her all the time. This story took place when I was fourteen.

“Cath, you asleep?”

“No.”

“Good.”

She walked over to my bed and crawled next to me. She kneeled down, resting her butt on her legs, and all I could smell was peppermint.

“What’s up?”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

I thought she was going to ask me to lie for her about something. That wasn’t so uncommon. We may not have been really close, but we always covered for each other when it came to Mom and Dad.

“I need to get off.”

“What?”

“C’mon, Cath, I’m so horny. I need more than just myself… Please?”

“No way! I’m not doing that with you!”

“C’mon, it’s no big deal. You do it to yourself right? So what’s the difference? Please?”

“Are you drunk or something?”

She giggled. “A little… So?”

“So, no way! You’re my sister!”

“So what? What’s the matter, you scared?”

“No, I’m not scared, it’s just weird, that’s all.”

“What’s weird about it? Don’t you do it with your friends?”

“NO!… Wait, you do?”

“Yeah, all the time. It’s not like with guys. It’s just if you’re horny.”

“I don’t know, Kate. It’s still weird.”

“C’mon, Cath, please? Just touch me for a little bit, and if it’s too weird then we can stop. I’ll do you too… whenever you want… I just really need to come, please?”

I sat up in bed. I couldn’t believe she was asking me to do this. It wasn’t a secret that we both masturbated. I knew she did, and she knew I did. One of the few conversations we had was when I asked her what a dildo was almost two years ago. She played the big sister part and told me everything I needed to know about, well, everything.

When I finally started masturbating, shortly after that conversation, it seemed pointless to try and hide it from her. Not that we ever did it in front of each other or anything, but we both just kind of knew when the other was doing it, and respected the space. Most of the time it was before, during, or after a shower, in the bathroom, and it was usually obvious when we were at it, so we never rushed each other out when we thought that’s what was going on. A few times, we may have shared an awkward, knowing smile when we passed each other on the way in or out, but we never seriously talked about it. Sometimes when one of us was being bitchy, the other one would say something about going to the bathroom, but that’s about it.

So it was definitely no secret that we did it, but like I said, other than a snide remark here and there, we never talked about it, and we certainly never thought about doing it together or anything like that — until now, that is.

So I sat up, and I could really smell the peppermint on her breath. It was definitely schnapps, but I didn’t know that at the time.

I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking about doing this, but she seemed sincere, like she really wanted me to. I guessed that it really wasn’t such a big deal if she did it with her friends all the time. She is my sister, and I didn’t think she would ever tell me anything that wasn’t true, at least about stuff like this, and it probably wasn’t the worst thing we could do. It was just touching, the same as I do to myself, so it didn’t really seem like a big deal. She wasn’t asking me to do anything else, so it’s not like I was having sex with her. Also, I really wanted to know what it felt like to have someone else touch me, and she said she would. Even if it was Kate, it probably would still feel good. I could always pretend it was someone else.

“Okay, but…”

She smiled and quickly pulled off her nightshirt. She wasn’t wearing anything else, and it kind of threw me off that my sister was sitting there completely naked, but I tried not to seem surprised.

“I, uh… I’m not really sure… I… just what do you want me to do?”

“It’s easy. Just pretend you’re doing it to yourself. Just do whatever you would do to yourself to me. I’ll tell you if it’s good.”

She sat straight up, still on her knees, grabbed my hand and put it on her pussy. It felt strange at first. She had practically no hair there, and it was so warm and slippery. I knew that she was already excited. She started to move my hand and her hips back and forth, but it was kind of awkward for me. She knew what I was thinking.

“Wait, hold on…”

She laid down next to me and spread her legs wide.

“It’ll be easier this way.”

She put my hand back on her pussy, and it did feel better. I started to move my hand up and down between her lips, and she moaned softly.

“Is that good?”

“Yeah… keep going. I’ll tell you.”

I laughed a little because I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. It was kind of hot to see her there, though, completely naked and feeling pleasure from what I was doing to her. She had a really great body, and she was really sexy. I had never really thought about fooling around with another girl before, but I was starting to like it.

I moved my hand back and forth, just like I did to myself, and played with her clit. It was cool to watch her reaction, to hear her moan every time I touched it. I really wanted to know what it would feel like to have another person touch me like this. She reached up and started to play with her nipples. I laughed a little again, because I do the same thing when I masturbate.

She moaned again. I was still kind of nervous, and still not sure if I was doing a good job.

“Do you want me to, um, go in?”

“Yes… fuck my pussy. Finger me, Cath.”

It was kind of strange to hear her say “fuck me,” since I only thought of fucking as one thing at that time. I slipped my middle finger inside her hole. It felt really weird at first to be inside another pussy other than my own. I pushed it in and out, and then I put another finger in. She moaned loudly when my second finger went in, and she reached down and started to rub her clit.

“Yes Cath… that’s it. Keep doing that… fuck my pussy… faster!”

I moved my fingers as fast as I could, pushing in as far as I could go. I spread them apart and back together again, and I could feel her pussy tightening around them. Her hips were pumping up and down against my hand.

“Yes Cath, that’s it. Keep going…I’m… gonna come.”

Right after that, her whole body went stiff and she held her breath. I knew she was having an orgasm. I could feel her pussy grab my fingers, the way mine does. Finally she collapsed, and grabbed my wrist to make me stop.

I pulled my fingers out and wiped them on the sheets. Kate lay there for a second, breathing heavily. It was then that I realized how wet my own pussy was, and how turned on I was from watching my pretty sister come. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

Kate suddenly turned to me and smiled. “Wow, that was awesome, thanks.”

Suddenly I felt all awkward. Had I really just fingered my own sister? “Um, sure.”

She smiled. “Okay, your turn…”

“No, that’s okay.”

“C’mon, let me do you too. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“It’s okay, Kate, maybe another time, I’m really tired.”

She smiled. I think she could tell that I was nervous. “Okay, but just let me know. Whenever you want, okay?”

I smiled, and she kissed me on the cheek. She sat up and stretched, and all I could think of was that her body looked really good. She reached down to the floor for her shirt, put it back on and stood up.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay, ‘nite, Cath.”

“Goodnight.”

She started to leave, but stopped. “You know you can’t say anything, right? Not to anyone.”

“I know, don’t worry.”

She smiled and slipped out the door.

As soon as she left I started to masturbate and came faster and harder than ever before, thinking about what just happened. I decided that the next time, I would let her do me too. Wrong or not, I wanted her to touch me.

I didn’t see her until after dinner the next day. We were all watching TV in the living room, but all I could think about was how badly I wanted Kate to masturbate me. I was getting so excited thinking about it. It seemed like the night was lasting forever, and I kept thinking that I was just going to go into the bathroom and do it myself. Finally, my sister got up.

“Where are you going?” I just blurted it out, and everyone looked at me strangely.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Oh, sorry.”

She left the room. I didn’t want her to do anything, so I told my parents I was going to bed and ran after her. She came out of the bathroom and smiled at me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just… remember what you said last night?”

She grinned. “You got it, sis. When Mom and Dad go to bed.”

I nodded, then went to my room while she went back downstairs. I started to change for bed, and as I slipped on my pajamas I thought about last night and took them off, opting for just a nightshirt and nothing else, like Katie had worn, then slipped into bed.

I remember waiting for what seemed like hours. in fact, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, Kate was in my bed next to me, and her fingers were gently stroking my nipples under my nightshirt when I woke up.

I looked at her, and she smiled. “You still want me to get you off?”

I nodded. She got me into a sitting position and crawled behind me, wrapping her legs around mine. I could feel her pussy against my ass. She pulled off her nightshirt, then raised my arms in the air to remove mine as well. She threw both shirts on the floor, and we were both naked.

Kate pressed herself against me, and I could feel her breasts against my back. Without warning, she reached around, slipped a hand between my thighs and started to touch my pussy. It was the most incredible thing I’d ever felt. She played with my clit and fingered me with one hand while the other toyed with my nipples.

Suddenly I knew I was about to come, and I fell back into her, shaking from head to toe. I raised my ass into the air, thrusting against Kate’s fingers, coming so hard that she had to cover my mouth to keep me from screaming.

When I caught my breath, I got her to reverse our positions and returned the favor. Kate stayed in my room for a while that night. We just lay together in my bed, cuddling for a while, and then we fingered each other at the same time. I had never come twice in one day before that. She went back to her own room when we were done, so we wouldn’t get caught.

Up until the day Kate left for college, we masturbated each other almost every night. We never really did anything but use our fingers on each other, and until recently, I’d never thought about doing anything else with her.

Then I found out about my friend Anne, and her sister Danielle. She told me how they have sex together — real, honest-to-god lesbian sex — and I started to think about Kate. Anne was the first person I ever told about the things I did with my sister, and the only other girl I ever thought about in a sexual way. When she told me about her and Dani being lovers, I couldn’t  stop myself from masturbating right there in her room while she described all the things they did together.

I called Kate that night, and told her that I missed her. She said she missed me too, and that she’d be coming home to visit or so in a few weeks. I can’t wait. She’s going to be very surprised when she gets here.

The End

By Alfie Atkins

Marisa sat behind her sister Ebonie, drawing the soft brush through her long, light brown hair. The hair was baby-soft, and smelt deliciously of floral shampoo. Marisa loved to brush Ebonie’s hair. It was always so clean and shiny, so easy to brush, and it always had such a delightful skin-and-soap scent that really was like nothing else.

Ebonie always appreciated Marisa’s ministrations. Whether Marisa was showing Ebonie how to apply make-up, do her hair in a top-knot, clip up a halter neck top without tying her limbs in a knot — or brushing her hair, as she was now, the younger girl always listened intently and followed her sister’s instructions thoroughly. Ebonie was in awe of her elder sister, and Marisa was secretly thrilled with the adulation.

Just recently, Marisa had been spending a lot more time with Ebonie. Before, she would have spent every waking moment with Carlie, but Carlie had been ‘out’ an awful lot lately. Marisa was slightly confused by her older sibling’s sudden lack of appearance, and her slightly standoffish attitude when she was there.

One night when Carlie wasn’t staying out, Marisa crept into her big sister’s bed — but although Marisa sat so close to Carlie that she was almost atop her, wishing with every fibre of her being for her lovely sister to plant a steamy kiss on her lips, or reach under the covers to slide Marisa’s nightie up her thighs and draw her cotton knickers down, it never happened.

Marisa would sit next to Carlie, talk about boys and girls and life — aand as she talked, she would be aware of her pussy growing wetter and wetter and wetter. She so wanted to reach out, grab her sister’s hand and place it between her thighs, as they’d both done to one another on that fateful night, which had happened weeks ago.

Nothing had happened between them since that night, and they hadn’t discussed it. Marisa desperately wanted to broach the subject, but she was afraid that if she did, Carlie would tell her that what they’d done was a mistake. Or worse, deny anything had taken place between them at all.

Somehow, the power that had once been Marisa’s was now Carlie’s. The older girl had cruelly aroused Marisa’s passions, taken her to undreamt of levels of ecstasy, and now she was acting as if nothing at all had taken place between them. Marisa should have been angry, but she couldn’t be. She was totally and utterly infatuated with Carlie, sick and wrong as it seemed, and she could neither stop that or reverse it. Nor did she want to.

But Carlie was being infuriatingly aloof. Marisa suspected it might be one of the morbid games her big sister loved to play. On the other hand, if it wasn’t a game, what kind of a future did they have? How would this affect their relationship as sisters? Carlie would be living at home for at least another two years, probably, and Marisa didn’t think she could cope for that long, not with all of the latent passions and secret lust that would ensue.

As she continued to brush Ebonie’s hair in a trance-like state, Marisa reflected on the love that had passed between herself and Carlie on that special, wonderful night. Carlie had been fantastic, perfect, brilliant, more than Marisa could have ever hoped or dreamed for. Her touch was so juvenile, yet so expert. Her body, her reactions, her pledge of love had been so wonderful and magical that Marisa had felt transported to the stars.

As they had slept in each other’s arms, Marisa had dreamed of the life they would share together. People would accept their love in the end, if they saw how true, deep, and meaningful it was. They would get a flat together, spend each and every night in each others’ arms without feeling guilty or dirty or ashamed, and the lovemaking would only get better and better as they got older, if that was possible.

And yes, Marisa knew it was a wild fantasy that could never come true, yet at the same time, she wanted it so badly, and with such a passion, that she almost believed, if she wished for it hard enough, that her wish would come true. As she lay in those warm arms, feeling wanted, cherished, loved, she felt that nothing would ever match up to that precious moment.

But morning had to come. As the day dawned in, the sky red and vivid, Carlie shook Marisa softly from her dream world, and with a tender kiss, guided her back to her own bed.

After that night, Carlie hadn’t completely ignored Marisa, but she’d been distant, withdrawn, even slightly edgy in her younger sister’s company. Marisa had looked at Carlie with pleading eyes, but Carlie had merely ignored her.

And recently, Carlie had made sure to drop in plenty of anecdotes, during their late-night chats, of things she’d done with boys. Marisa didn’t want to hear about things like that any longer — she wanted Carlie all to herself. Still, she could not deny the lust that coursed through her when Carlie described the simplest of kisses or touches she had exchanged with a boy.

When Marisa returned to her own bed, she would lift her nightie and slide a hand into her knickers, rubbing her heated cleft almost desperately as she imagined Carlie’s tongue, lips and hands on her pliant body. As she came, her juices wetting her hand, Marisa would moan and whisper, “Oh, Carlie,” into the close air.

Later, as she slept, she would dream of those soft eyes smiling down at her, brown tresses brushing over her body, making her nipples pucker erect — while Carlie just grinned and repeatedly denied her what she wanted.

As Marisa would beg in her dreams for Carlie to set her free, Carlie would pout and grin — and suddenly, violently, she would run a hand down Marisa’s body, scraping with her fingernails along the way, then she would part the pouting lips of her pussy, slapping and rubbing the hot little clit, bringing Marisa off.

But when Marisa awoke, her knickers damp, she would sigh into the empty space and silently beg her sister to join her. But she was alone.

*****

Today was one of the rare occasions that Carlie was at home. She was no doubt downstairs talking to their parents, although Marisa longed for her to be up in the bedroom with them. She was sure she would not be as interested in Ebonie’s hair if she was. As she stroked the brush through Ebonie’s hair for the last time, she noticed it was full of loose hairs.

“There you are, kiddo,” Marisa said, exhaling a sigh. “All done. I’m just gonna clean this brush out, okay?” Ebonie nodded, and Marisa headed for the bathroom.

Opening the bathroom door, Marisa realised that the shower stall was clouded with steam. Silly Ebonie, probably forgot to turn it off again, Marisa told herself, and opened the stall doors to turn off the shower.

Carlie’s gleaming wet, naked body stared back at Marisa, and it was as perfect as she remembered. The rose-coloured nipples were pleasingly puckered, covered with soapsuds. The narrow thighs were glistening with soap and water droplets; the butt, high, rounded, and temptingly full, was half-tuned toward her, and it looked so inviting, Marisa wanted to pull it to her and suck on the shiny cheeks, biting and nipping, running her tongue down the crack. The dark bush of Carlie’s pussy, damp and inviting, looked so ready to be opened and explored, that Marisa had to physically force herself not to reach out and touch it.

Carlie turned toward Marisa in shock, but her hands did not try to cover her body in self defence, and a small smile hung on her lips. “Oh, Marisa, I thought you were someone else,” Carlie cried, then giggled softly. As she did so, she dropped the soap to the floor of the stall. “Oops,” Carlie giggled. “I seem to have dropped my soap. Excuse me.” And with that, Carlie bent down to pick up the soap. As she did so, she bent over so far that her butt cheeks opened wide, affording Marisa a splendid view of her tight little butthole, and the cleft of an open and water-wetted pussy.

Marisa’s pussy responded accordingly. Her heart began to pound, low and heavy, in her chest, and she felt the dampness begin to seep from her vaginal opening. She so wanted to lean forward and lick that sexy little crack, plunging her tongue deep in the forbidden hole, then slurping wetly down to prod at the other opening, that she almost did it, regardless of the hassle it might cause. Instead, she called on all of her willpower to refrain from doing so, and watched as Carlie slowly straightened up, arching her long back.

Marisa watched, mute, as Carlie began to soap her delightful breasts, rubbing the soap bar round and round her tempting little nipples, her eyes half closed in ecstasy. Then she slowly slid the soap down her body, right to the top of her bush, then stopped abruptly.

“Marisa,” she cooed, in a low, sexy and intimate voice, just for her. “I know you want to touch me… just as I know that all of these long nights you have wanted me to make love to you again. But I had to be sure that you meant what you said, that you truly wanted to be my lover.”

“I do, Carlie,” the younger girl whispered.

“I know that, Marisa… and I’m going to let you have what you want. Soon.”

Marisa thought she was hearing things. So Carlie did still want her. All of the teasing, all of the pain of the last few weeks, nothing mattered as it dawned on her what her sister was saying. She still wanted her, and that was good enough for her. And by God, did Marisa ever want Carlie. She wanted her so much that her cunt was throbbing with violent pulse-beats, and she was almost dripping with wetness. But ‘soon’? What did she mean? Was she going to make her wait even longer?

Marisa watched in a trance-like state as Carlie began to rub the soap in light circular motions over her pussy, her hand descending ever so slightly lower with each motion. As she came to almost clit level, Carlie paused, smiling at her confused and aroused sister. “Lock the door, Marisa,” she breathed.

Eagerly, Marisa did her bidding, and when she turned back to her sister, Carlie was beckoning at her with both hands to join her in the shower.

“I can’t, Carlie,” she said, every word an effort. She was so aroused that she could hardly speak. “Ebonie is in the bedroom. She will wonder where I am.” Even as she spoke, Marisa knew that she could easily get in that shower with Carlie, even if there was a possibility of getting caught.

Carlie grinned and said, “Good. You haven’t totally lost your head, then. If you and I are going to be together, I need to trust you to be careful. Maybe soon we won’t have to worry, but at the moment… If you like, you can wash my pussy for me instead.”

‘Like’ did not come close to describing how much Marisa wanted to wash that sweet little cunt. Slowly, Marisa pushed away from the wall and went to her sister. With a small laugh, Carlie squeezed the soap out of her grip, and it plopped into Marisa’s eager hand.

Gently and carefully, but with growing arousal, Marisa began to lightly rub at Carlie’s mound with the bar of soap. As soon as she had started, Carlie impatiently grabbed Marisa’s hand and forced her pussy open with the soap.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” Carlie croaked. “Rub harder, slip the soap right in.”

Marisa complied, parting Carlie’s slit with her free hand, while the other used the soap to rub roughly at her pussy. Marisa ran the bar up and down the cleft, all the way up and down, sliding from clit to hole, pressing with force into the clit with each stroke.

Carlie’s legs began to tremble, and she threw her head back, her eyes half shut, the long wet hair trailing down. Her top teeth nipped at her glistening underlip in ecstasy, and she began to pump her hips, pressing her pussy harder and harder against the soap and the hand.

Carlie suddenly pulled Marisa towards her, and a wet hand went out to roughly rub at her cunt through her tight jeans. The seam of the jeans pressed into Marisa’s pussy, and the rough texture of the seam was incredibly arousing.

As her legs buckled with the onset of a sudden and intense orgasm, the soap dropped from Marisa’s hands and fell to the floor unheeded.

Marisa’s soap-slippery fingers worked their way easily into Carlie’s pussy, one, two, then three, jabbing in and out, while her thumb pounded at her big sister’s clit, rubbing it side to side and round and round, making Carlie whimper in orgasm.

As Carlie found Marisa’s clit through her jeans, so hard and protruding that it could be felt even through the denim material, she began to rub hard at the protuberance.

Suddenly both girls began to climax. Carlie rubbed her pussy violently against the exploring hand, then cried out softly as her juices mingled with the water and soaked Marisa’s hand — while a trembling Marisa bit her lip as an orgasm flooded through her, her cunt pounding and pounding, the pulse beat in overload, making her head spin with the dizzying pleasure of it. Her own flood was unseen and not felt by Carlie, but Marisa could feel how heavy and wet her knickers were as it engulfed her.

The pounding within both girls slowly subsided. Marisa could not stop her legs from trembling, and she had to hold on to the shower stall door to keep herself upright. Carlie, a look of amazement and happiness on her face, laughed softly, and whispered, “Oh, boy,” before winking at Marisa, and starting to close the shower stall.

This time, Marisa wasn’t offended this time — she knew the score, knew what Carlie was trying to say. Silently, although her legs still trembled, she turned to the sink and began to empty the hairs out of the brush. The whole episode had lasted mere seconds.

They would not be discovered. And it was amazingly arousing to have this sexy secret between herself and Carlie. Marisa did not feel the need to change anything for the moment. Her brain buzzed with happiness and the afterglow of orgasm, and her rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes could not hide the delight her sister had evoked in her.

As Marisa turned to quietly leave the bathroom, she glanced one more time over to the cloudy shower stall and saw Carlie bending to pick up the soap. She grinned to herself, and reflected that this had felt just as good as that first time, probably even better. And shutting the door behind her, Marisa knew she did not need to worry. There’s plenty more where that came from.

The End

By Cassie

The week went terribly slowly, and Justine’s distraction made her less then popular at work but, on Saturday morning, as she showered and laid out some fresh clothes, she couldn’t deny how excited she was at the prospect of seeing Kelly — this easy-going, happy-go-lucky girl who could unlock the secrets of Justine’s long lost family.

Snapping out of another daydream, Justine looked at the clothes on her bed and decided on something sober for the meeting. Almost business-like. So she chose to wear a shortish plain skirt, her just-heeled black shoes and a white blouse.

She studied herself in the mirror and groaned. I look like I’m dressed for an interview!

Ditching the blouse, she picked out a simple red top with overly long sleeves that she liked to pull over her hands and grip in her palms. Then she unbound her long strawberry-red hair, clipping only the most unruly locks behind her head. She smiled at the image staring back at her. Much better. At least then, Kelly wouldn’t think there was some kind of business proposition in the works.

Resisting the urge for a large coffee before she left, Justine set the sat-nav in her car and began the drive along the southern English coast to Ashford. She passed through ancient Lewes and historic Hastings, then through the pretty town of Rye before branching inland to make her way into Ashford. The two women had agreed to meet in the town centre, at a coffee shop near a major car park.

As Justine settled her car into a space at the designated parking lot, she stopped and spent a few minutes trying to calm her nerves. She was, in fact, less nervous than she expected to be. It was as though the stage fright had suddenly evaporated and she was ready to face her audience. She checked her make-up in the mirror: a little lipstick, some eyeliner and a hint of green eye shadow. Not too much, just something to make her presentable. She got out and went down the steps through the exit, and onto the street.

She walked up the road a little way, eventually spying the Italian coffee place they’d agreed to meet at. She checked her watch. She was precisely five minutes late. So it was with that thought; the notion that after all this, the impeccably professional Justine Holloway was late for one of the most important meetings of her life, that she walked into the shop somewhat distracted. She didn’t even notice the other woman in the bar until Kelly Bracken turned her head to see who had arrived.

It was at that moment that Kelly’s face lit up, and Justine’s heart almost stopped.

Because the woman who Justine had come to visit, the woman who had replied to her about her mysterious birth parents Walter and Mary Jackson, the woman who did not share her own surname, or profess to any knowledge of “Amanda,” beyond the possession of a small copper bracelet with that name inscribed upon it, was Justine Holloway’s virtual double. Her doppelganger. In fact, her identical twin sister.

Justine could not speak. Her throat was literally contracting, almost choking her as she stared, stared, stared at the smiling woman rising up to greet her. It was like seeing a perverse mirror video as she drank in the image of Kelly Bracken — the long, curly red hair, the small, freckled nose, the slim form, the green eyes, even the shape of her mouth, now curling into a wide grin. Each of those things were part and parcel of Justine’s own features.

My God, she kept thinking to herself. My God. My God!

Her heart skipped several beats and she suddenly felt dizzy. She reached out for support but fumbled on the top of a nearby chair and began to feel her knees tremble, her legs fail. Fat, bright stars filled her vision and she felt close to collapse when two arms reached out to hold her upright.

“Are you okay?” said Kelly, stepping in close to put her arms around Justine.

Justine gazed up at her as though she were dazed or intoxicated, and then looked away. Her face had gone very pale and her legs had lost all their strength. Kelly helped Justine into the chair she’d been trying to grab hold of, then sat opposite her, holding the other woman’s hand.

Justine was aware of Kelly Bracken holding her hand, squeezing it gently while the soft, slightly coarse voice of the other woman asked her if she was all right. Justine was aware of sitting, feeling dizzy and light-headed, and being faintly embarrassed by it all, but was most aware of the touch and feel of the other woman’s hand on her own. In some strange way, the touch of Kelly’s skin on hers had a bizarre, rippling effect, as though there were a mild surge of electricity passing between them. Justine was also aware that her heart was beating very fast, and she was perilously close to fainting.

Kelly sat, holding the other woman’s hand for a few minutes, hoping that Justine Holloway — who looked so like her, as if she’d spied on Kelly to copy her every feature — would not collapse or be sick on her.

Eventually, Justine took a deep breath and sat up, focusing her eyes on Kelly, staring at her with an almost apologetic frown.

“How can you be—?” she said, but seemed unable to finish the question.

Kelly waited patiently while the other woman shook her head to gather her thoughts, only faintly aware that she was still holding the other woman’s hand, and how comfortable it felt to do so.

Eventually, after pinching the bridge of her nose while she kept her eyes shut to concentrate, Justine sighed. “I came here to ask about Mary and Walter Jackson,” she said, her words low and deliberate. “I came because I found out I was adopted, and the only thing I knew about my parents were their names, and a daughter they had called Amanda.”

Justine took a few deep breaths, still unable to meet Kelly Bracken’s eyes.

“When you said that you had a bracelet with ‘Amanda’ inscribed on it, I thought perhaps that you could help me find out who my family were. Who Amanda was. Your surname—”

“Bracken,” Kelly said, interrupting.

“I assumed that you had nothing to do with them. Nothing to do with me, certainly. I never once thought you could be my—my—”

“Bracken’s my married name,” said Kelly. “My maiden name was Jackson, like Mum and Dad. I never knew about no sister. They never told me.”

It was as Kelly mentioned the word “sister” that Justine finally looked up and studied the woman sitting so close to her, holding her hand. The two young women stared at each other for long minutes, Kelly smiling at the unexpected face of the woman so similar, to identical to her own; Justine searching Kelly’s identical features, hardly daring to believe that the sister she had so longed about was finally in front of her.

It was an almost involuntary motion that prompted Justine to raise her free hand a reach out to touch the face of her long lost sister. While not flinching, Kelly did stiffen a little as the other woman’s hand reached out. She felt Justine’s soft, warm fingertips touch her cheek in a very gentle, hesitant way. And she still did not move as she let the other woman place a warm palm against the side of her face. In fact, she felt her eyelids begin to close involuntarily at the touch of the other woman. There was something strangely calming and comforting about Justine’s touch, and Kelly found herself responding to it.

It was, eventually, Justine who broke the quiet reverie, by removing her hand and taking another of her customary deep breaths. “I can barely believe you’re real,” she said.

Kelly smiled. “I never knew you even existed.”

“So you knew Mary and Walter? My birth parents?”

“Our mum and dad, you mean?” Kelly laughed.

Justine smiled in return. “I suppose. It’s hard trying to think of them like that, though. There’s so much I don’t know!”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” said Kelly.

“But you will, though?” said Justine, a hint of desperation in her voice. She found that she was gripping her twin sister’s hand as she said it. “You’ll tell me all about them, won’t you? All about them, you and everything?”

Kelly giggled and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“And — and you’re married?” Justine said, wondering at the sudden distaste she had at the thought of her new sister having a husband.

At this, Kelly looked away and smiled sadly. She didn’t speak for a few moments, and Justine had a sudden urge to pull the other woman into an embrace.

“I was,” Kelly said, eventually. The silence extended for a long moment. “Widowed now.”

“I’m sorry,” Justine said and, strangely, both meant it and found comfort at the thought. “I hardly know what to say, where to start.”

“You could start by telling me all about you,” Kelly said, looking up and smiling into the eyes of her new-found sister.

The two women sat for over two hours in that little shop, watching at least two rounds of coffee come and go as they laughed, smiled, and talked to each other. Their hands hardly parted during this time, and it was only when the barman asked if they wanted the dinner menu that the two women noticed the time and agreed to go.

Kelly offered to host Justine for dinner — but reluctantly, very reluctantly, Justine declined. She had to get back home to Brighton.

When Justine arrived home, it was with a mixture of both relief and regret. As an essentially individual person, she was pleased to be back in her own space once more. But the further she got from Kelly, this new and wonderful surprise in her life, the more she missed her.

If someone had asked Justine to explain it, she would not have been able to put it into words. She felt a desperate need to be close to Kelly; to make sure the Kent girl was not just a dream, to make sure no one would take her away after all these years of being alone. And the truth was that Justine couldn’t explain how she felt when Kelly touched her, or smiled at her. There was the same sensual frisson she got from being on a date, from the wonderful, heavy anticipation before sex.

Despite these stirrings, Justine assured herself that she didn’t have sexual feelings for Kelly. It was wrong to have such feelings. Wrong on two levels. She shouldn’t because Kelly was most definitely her sister—her twin, for goodness’ sake! And it was wrong because even if Kelly had been her type, and was everything she wanted in a romantic partner, love just didn’t strike that quickly. Not for Justine, anyhow. It wasn’t possible.

But thoughts of Kelly continued to prey on Justine’s mind. Every time she closed her eyes, there was her sister — smiling, biting the corner of her bottom lip, frowning with worry when Justine nearly broke down. She felt the touch of Kelly’s hand on her arm as the newfound sister tried to console her. She smelt the perfume of the Kent girl It was intoxicating. The whole experience almost seemed like some deep, deep rush from a powerful drug.

After making herself a light dinner, then ignoring it, Justine fired up her computer and checked her mail. Sifting through the usual, she hit the “compose” button and wrote a short note to her Portuguese friend Jan.

Hi Jan. Hope everything has been okay. Life has taken a huge turn for me. A huge turn. Two wonderful things have happened. I’ve tracked down my remaining family — my birth family, remember? That was incredible enough, but when I went to meet the woman who knew about this, I had an even bigger shock. She was my twin, Jan. My absolute twin! I have no doubt that we’re sisters.

I can hardly believe it. It’s an amazing thing. Too wired to explain it all fully.

Will write again soon, Justine

She hit the “send” button and carried on surfing her mail. She had just logged into Jan’s SIL site, when an e-mail popped up from Jan herself.

Hi Justine. Lovely to hear from you. Do you have a webcam?

Attached to the e-mail was a link. Justine, feeling another flush of excitement, adjusted the webcam on the top of her computer screen and activated the live chat. Jan’s face appeared in a small window on the top right part of Justine’s screen.

She smiled and waved at her new friend. “Hi, Jan! Don’t use this webcam much, but it’s great to see you. You look fantastic!”

Jan smiled back, her dark features settling into the middle of the mini-screen. “Hi, Justine. Thank you. I have a beautiful view of your left ear. It’s a very pretty ear….”

Justine flushed red with embarrassment, then squared the webcam so that it pointed in her direction.

“Sorry. Is that any better?”

“It’s fine, but I was enjoying the close-up of your ear. Maybe next time you can show me the other one.”

Justine smiled. “Har, har. I knew I couldn’t get through a chat without you teasing me. Didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

Jan shrugged, feigning ignorance. “What can I say? I have a thing for left ears.”

“What did you think of my news?” said Justine, eager to hear her friend’s advice.

Jan smiled — a little sadly, Justine thought. “Is it really your sister?” she asked, as though questioning Justine’s news.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let me put it like this. Have you slept well since you got back to England?”

“Slept well? What on earth has that got to do with it?”

Jan’s face fell a little. “I am worried about you, Justine, my friend. When you left Portugal, you seemed like something new and wonderful had happened, but I am worried that it had become too much.”

Justine sighed. Jan thought she was making it all up.

Of course she would think that, Justine reflected later. How much of an extraordinary coincidence it must seem to Jan that this English woman, who had only just experimented with lesbian sex, who was looking for a long-lost sister, and who had found out about the Sisters in Love site then suddenly then “discovered” her long lost sibling? It was the stuff of fantasy, of pure imaginative creation.

But at the time, Justine was too angry to think about that. She did not have the energy, the concentration for that kind of reflection. So she bit back at Jan, first asking her what the hell she meant, then attacking her for being petty and not wanting Justine to have any real happiness, then accusing Jan of being jealous, and that was why she hadn’t taken advantage of Justine’s offer to sleep with her back in Portugal.

Jan, for her part, was incredibly patient, listening to Justine’s rant and trying to calm the other woman down. Eventually, Jan suggested they talk again some other day, as she was tired.

Justine cut the communication immediately, hot with anger. She fumed for a few moments in front of her computer, just as she’d done a few weeks earlier, when confronted with the evidence of David’s infidelity. Finally, her anger spent, she slumped and began to cry. How had her life gone from being so… so… stable, to being this awful roller coaster where even being angry with a new acquaintance would make her upset?

Justine left her computer and sold herself to a bottle of red wine, before going clumsily to bed. And when she slept, she fell into a deep dream.

Justine was running, and running scared. Somehow it was all her fault, but that didn’t stop her being afraid, or help in any way. The rooms of the house were dark and had many shadows in them, but it was the girl coming behind her that frightened Justine the most. Justine knew the girl wanted to hurt her, and knew she had to get away. But her feet felt like blocks of ice, and her heart was pumping too hard. She was back in her old school uniform, inelegant and dowdy. Her long, curly red hair was plastered around her face and she was sweating so freely that the blouse on her back was damp with her exertions.

She ran toward a door — but it wouldn’t open. In desperation she tugged at the handle, crying and pleading with the door to open, but it held fast. She had the sense of everything behind her contracting, closing in on her somehow, and felt her throat begin to tighten. She shivered, slumping against the floor as the world closed in, no longer able to cry. Unable to breathe. She crumpled against the hard floor.

Shadows, dark shadows all around her. She—

Justine woke up abruptly, her heart pounding. The echo of a shout — her own cry — coming back to her. She thought about getting up; drinking some water or something similar, then felt strangely frightened and alone. She didn’t want to leave the bed.

Eventually, and in a fairly short space of time, she fell back into sleep.

Justine weaved through the people at her college party; trying to find a way out. It was hot, and busy, and Justine didn’t want to face her. She sent upstairs but when she got to the bedroom door, the other girl was waiting there for her.

“Bitch.”

Justine turned around, ready to bite back — but Pip looked both angry and upset, and Justine knew it was her fault. She eventually just hung her head and muttered, “Sorry.”

The slap, when it came, was both unexpected and painful. Justine raised a hand protectively to the left side of her face, feeling the pain of the blow Pip had just given her.

“Sorry?” shouted Pip, her woollen doll’s features contorted in anger. “Sorry? Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, you sly, two-faced bitch. I should slap the hell out of you for what you’ve done!”

Justine wanted to argue, but had no strength for it. She didn’t know what she’d done, but knew somehow that she was at fault, and could not gainsay her childhood playmate.

“Sit down,” said Pip, her arms crossed over her flat doll’s chest. “I said, sit down!” she shouted. Justine did so, feeling tears well up.

“Oh, you can cry all right!” said Pip, leaning down and lifting Justine’s chin with surprising gentleness. “You might as well get started sooner rather than later, two-faced bitch.”

Pip slapped her again, and Justine felt the hot sting. Then came another slap, to her right cheek, and another to her left.

“Please!” she pleaded. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Pip was undressing in front of her, taking off her stitched clothes to reveal a gaunt doll’s frame underneath. Her face was a mixture of anger and something else, some other passionate, animal emotion. Justine was very scared of her, but could not move.

“Hurting you is the only way to make you pay,” said Pip, leaning down and slapping Justine’s face once more. “Take your clothes off.”

Justine shook her head. My God, was Pip going to rape her? What could she do? Pip was her oldest, closest companion. She couldn’t say no to her, could never refuse her, even if Pip threatened violence. Some things Justine knew she could not deny.

“Just like you can’t deny you deserve this!” said Pip, her lips trembling.

With a breaking heart, Justine peeled off her clothes. Once she was naked, Pip ordered her to kneel on the floor. She obeyed, then Pip stood behind her and began to spank Justine from behind, delivering hard, cruel strokes against her friend’s bare buttocks.

“Please, please stop,” said Justine, aware of the heat and pain as Pip delivered each stinging blow. “Please don’t.”

“Faithless bitch.”

“Please stop!” said Justine, as the two hurtled down the highway at car-crash speed. “I don’t want to die. Pip, stop it, please.”

The car ate and ate up the road without ever seeming to end. Justine thought she was going to die at any mo—

When she awakened, it was with a jolt and a lurch inside her chest. And God help her, the first thing she thought about was Kelly, her newly discovered, beautiful twin sister. Justine would have given anything to have held Kelly at that moment. She somehow needed to feel that contact with her twin; that reassurance that Kelly was there and wasn’t going to go away. Holding her sister would take away the nightmares, of that she was certain. Holding Kelly would make everything all right.

It was only as an afterthought, as she sank once more into a deep and formless sleep, that Justine remembered how she used to feel that way about her doll, Pip.

The following week was a roller coaster that twisted, turned, sped up and braked hard, all according to the whim of Justine’s emotions. She’d seldom been on to let her feelings run away with her. She was a methodical, professional woman, and needed her to be that for her job. So, with a desperate act of will, she tried to purge thoughts of Kelly from her mind while she was at work.

But even she couldn’t deny that the one thing keeping her going was the thought of sharing a phone call or an e-chat with her new sister during the evening. They’d arranged to meet up again the following Saturday. Kelly promised Justine a day’s outing to Dover, her favourite town.

By the time Friday evening came around, Justine was in a state of high excitement. She’d promised herself — like a child vowing not to open the presents before their parents woke up on Christmas day — that she wouldn’t call or e-mail Kelly. The only communication she allowed herself  to send was a single text, confirming that they would be meeting up for the day.

Kelly’s reply thrilled every excited fibre of Justine’s being.

Can’t wait! So looking forward to seeing you! Lotsa luv, K xxx

Justine spent the evening cooking herself a small pasta dish, which she enjoyed with a couple of bottles of beer. She followed that with a long, leisurely bath, then sat down at her computer.

She’d decided to try and make amends with her Portuguese friend Jan, feeling regretful about the set-to they’d had. Dressed loosely in her satin bathrobe with nothing underneath, she sat down and fired up the computer. She checked her e-mail — nothing from Kelly, but nothing from David either, so that cancelled things out, she supposed. Justine got rid of the obligatory spam, then logged on to Sisters in Love.

She checked the “What’s New” page and clicked on the testimonial of a new author who Jan had published on the site. This girl was telling the story of her secret love for her sister, and had described the sequence of events in very graphic detail.

As she read the story, Justine started to feel herself getting very aroused. The hot bath she’d had, the oils she’d used, and the soft, silken feel of the bathrobe against her skin all seemed to heighten her desire. With only the mildest pang of self-consciousness, she undid the loose knot at the front of her robe and relaxed back into the computer chair.

Letting the robe slip to her sides, she began to trace her fingers up and down the insides of her thighs. She looked down briefly at the patch of red pubic hair between her legs and, in quick succession, wondered first what it would be like if she were shaved; then, what it would feel like to kiss such a soft, red tuft.

She let her fingers play over the triangle of auburn curls, closing her eyes as the skin beneath became sensitised to her own touch. Using her thumb and middle finger, she prised apart her moist labia and eased her forefinger against the electric bud of flesh beneath. She felt a sigh escape her lips and knew that she was getting very turned on. She felt the first familiar little wave of pleasure waft through her — then felt it again, growing wet from her own touch.

Returning to the here and now, Justine looked up to the computer and carried on reading through the testimonial of the woman who loved her own sister. By then, the story and its sentiments resonated so deeply with her that the idea of feeling illicit passion for a sister seemed to make perfect sense.

Nor could she ignore how completely turned on she was becoming. Easing a finger between the cleft of her sex, she found that she was hot and wet to the touch. She curved one, then two fingers and slipped them inside herself. She felt her breathing deepen and closed her eyes, letting herself drift as she slowly worked her fingers in and out, then in and out again.

Almost urgently, she felt the need to be completely filled; to have her body rocked and invaded. She opened her eyes and looked for something appropriate to masturbate with. Her eyes fell onto the beer bottle she’d finished with her meal, then she grabbed it, marvelling at the cool glass beneath her hot fingers.

She rubbed the lip of the bottle against her clit, then began to slip it into herself. At first, the thin neck slid easily between the folds of her moist sex. But as the bottle widened, she needed to push more insistently, timing each push with the contractions of her muscles.

The glass surface was very cold inside her, at least at first — but Justine could only feel the huge eroticism of being filled, the sweet submission of allowing herself to be penetrated, and that made her hornier still. Feeling the bottle go deeper inside her, Justine let out a moan and moved her hips to accommodate its width more easily. With one hand pushing and teasing the glass bottle in and out of her vagina, she gave attention to her clitoris with the other — rubbing, flicking and tickling the sensitive bud.

As wave after wave of eroticism washed through her, Justine felt her sexual hunger rise even higher. Reclining back as far as she could on the chair, she began to fuck herself liberally with the makeshift glass dildo, driving the bottle deep inside herself. On impulse, she looked up to her desk, then reached for her “fat pen” that she used to make notes while she worked. Holding the bottle inside herself with one hand, she grasped the pen in the other, reached behind her leg and rubbed the tip of it against her anus.

Feeling the tight rosebud resist, she brought the pen back up to her mouth and moistened it, then returned it to the crack of her ass. Working slowly, she pushed the thick pen deep into her rectum and left it there, then began to fuck herself lustily with the bottle, now using both hands.

Her orgasm, when she gave into it, was extraordinary. Pulling out both the pen and the bottle and letting them fall to the floor, she jammed two fingers into her cunt and pressed down hard against her ripened clit.

Justine bucked and rocked in the chair, moving with the rhythm of ecstasy. Her mind, as it so often was in her dreams these days, had become a crazy jumble – a mishmash of images and thoughts. None coherent. Nothing tangible.

And that, after she had cleaned herself and lay quietly on the sofa, was all the more confusing for her. Justine loved to fantasise about certain things, even when she was still sleeping with David. There would be defined fantasy roles for her make-believe lovers, with certain face-types, body-types — even the sexual scenarios would be clear and defined.

But now her mind was a welter of confusion, leaving no clear direction for her desires. And there was no doubt that since the holiday in Portugal and her foggy sexual liaison with Rosa — not to mention her intimate chats with Jan — Justine had been thinking a lot more about sex.

No. That wasn’t right. Not just thinking more about sex; she was charged by it. Her orgasms were more powerful, her sexual needs greater. More dangerous, even — Justine had never done anything like fuck herself with a glass bottle before. It was all so very, very confusing.

She went to bed that night still a little excited, but confused… and somehow sad and disappointed in herself, for no particular reason.

*****

The next day, the meeting with Kelly washed away every iota of doubt, sadness, fear or worry. Justine got up early, worried about what to wear. Then, remembering that Kelly had suggested a day out, she picked a short-ish yellow flower-print summer dress. The dress was both pretty and cleverly under-wired, so that she didn’t need to wear a bra. It was also hideously expensive, so Justine didn’t wear it often.

Deciding on a bit of a wicked whim not to wear any underwear at all, Justine slipped on some flat-heeled slippers that went nicely with the dress. Then as an afterthought, she took a cardigan to put over her shoulders if the day grew cold.

Inspecting herself in the mirror, she checked her lipstick, eyeliner, pout and smile. All seemed to be in order.

The drive along the coast was uneventful, and when she parked her car in the drive of Kelly’s modest semi-detached house in Ashford, Justine felt the flutter of first-date nerves. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself but, when Kelly opened the door; a huge grin on her face, Justine turned into a teenage girl once again; grinning madly at nothing in particular. She got out of the car and nearly ran towards the front door. They briefly hugged, then went inside.

Once the door was closed, Justine put her bag down on the floor and looked at Kelly. The same face, same smile, same hair — bound in exactly the same way, she noticed. There was a clip at the top of her head to keep the massed hair in place, but the rest hung free.

Unable to check the happiness she felt, Justine threw her arms around Kelly’s neck and hugged her close.

“Feels like it’s been ages,” she said, burying her face in her newly found sister’s hair. She felt Kelly hug her back, but perhaps not as tightly as Justine did. She couldn’t help it. Justine wanted to hold her and hold her and hold her until she was sure that Kelly wouldn’t disappear. Nor could she help that her heart was beating crazily. It was a wonderful, magical feeling.

“Wow, you look great. I love that dress!” said Kelly.

Justine smiled broadly and looked over at her newly found sister. Kelly was dressed in grey combat trousers and a pink vest top and looked, in her own way, very good. “Thanks. I feel a bit overdressed now.”

Kelly shook her head, then inclined it over her shoulder. “Come on through. Want a cup of tea?”

Justine was grinning. She knew she was, but couldn’t help it. Somehow, in a way that she couldn’t properly describe, she felt happy. Contented. Blissful. Just being here in this unfamiliar location, with a woman she barely knew, she was at one with the universe.

“So are you still up for a day trip to Dover, then?” said Kelly, walking through the small lounge into her kitchen.

“Sounds great,” said Justine, taking a moment to look around. It was clear that Kelly wasn’t very well off, certainly much poorer than Justine herself was. But she made the best of what she had; everything was clean and well kept. In some way, it was very humbling for Justine to be in the house of someone who worked hard to make ends meet.

The two women chatted for a while as Kelly made the tea. They talked about nonsensical things: work, pets, the price of bloody train fares, etc. The sort of trifling details that really matter in a relationship. Taking their tea into Kelly’s front room, they sat on a pair of two-seater sofas angled closely next to each other. Both naturally drew their legs up beside them. As she did so, Justine became aware that her expensive yellow dress rode a long way up her thigh.

Kelly was quick to notice this and bit her lower lip. “If you carry on like that, I’ll have to beat them off with a stick.”

“What? Who?”

Kelly reached out and rested her fingers on Justine’s thigh, making the other woman’s mouth go dry. “Keep showing off these gorgeous pins, and I’ll have to take a stick to beat away all the blokes who’ll be gawping at you!” She sat back, her cheeks a little flushed.

Justine grinned. “No worries there,” she said. “As long as you keep an eye out for me.”

“That’s what sisters are for, right?”

They carried on talking, and Kelly outlined her thoughts for what she’d planned for the day. She wanted to take Justine to the great Dover Castle, and visit the 1940’s tunnels that had been built into the cliff during the Second World War. She’d planned on a picnic at the site overlooking the harbour, and then a drive around until it was time to go back.

Justine pulled a face and tugged at the hem of her yellow dress, raising it a little higher up her leg.

“Honestly, do you really think I’ll be all right in this dress? It seems like we’ll be doing a fair bit of walking, and if we’re in tunnels and stuff, maybe I should…”

“You can borrow some of my stuff, if you want to change,” Kelly offered, before Justine had finished her sentence.

“Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. We’re bound to be the same size, right? Come on up to my bedroom.”

The two women put down their cups and Justine followed Kelly upstairs to a small bedroom, with a double bed taking up most of the space on one side, and two large built-in wardrobes facing on the other.

“Plonk yourself down, then,” said Kelly, opening the farthest wardrobe. She took a few moments, rifling through the clothes, then said, “What d’ye fancy wearing?”

“I don’t know,” said Justine, “Shorts maybe? And any top that goes with it.”

“Okay.”

Kelly picked out a pair of combat shorts, and a ruffled yellow short-sleeved shirt. “Here, try these on.”

“Thanks.” Justine took the clothes and put on the shirt over her dress.

Kelly frowned. “Doesn’t look good with that dress on. Take that off first.”

Justine blanched. “I—er, I’m not wearing any—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Kelly, dismissively.

“Sure?”

“I have been in the girls’ locker room at college, y’know,” said Kelly with a wry smile.

Justine hesitated for a moment, then stood up and slipped her expensive dress off her shoulders, and pulled it down her body. She looked up momentarily and caught Kelly looking her up and down. Kelly’s eyes dropped to the red-tufted triangle of Justine’s pubes.

“Oh, I’m really sorry,” said Justine. “Sometimes I don’t, um, wear any.”

Kelly, as though snapped out of a trance, looked away, embarrassed. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, it’s — well, you’re just like me in every way, but I’ve never seen that.”

“What?” The thought that she was standing naked in Kelly’s bedroom barely registered anymore for Justine.

“Your, um, you know; our hair. I didn’t realise it was so red!”

Justine looked puzzled and Kelly’s blush reddened further. “I, uh, had an accident down there a long time ago. Had to have minor surgery and it, well, the hair never grew back.”

“You’re completely bare down there?” said Justine, fascinated.

“Yeah, I, uh — well, it was a long time ago. Do you, uh, do you want to try on that stuff?”

Justine wanted to ask a ton of questions, but was now becoming conscious of the uncomfortable atmosphere and, once more, very aware of her own nakedness. “Sure. Sorry. Didn’t mean to, you know.”

Kelly smiled tightly. “’S’alright. It was a long time ago.”

Justine tried on the shirt and shorts, and they fit perfectly. She could see that Kelly was a little upset, or perhaps uncomfortable. But shortly afterwards, she brightened up considerably. It marvelled Justine that there didn’t seem to be anything much that could keep down Kelly’s good spirits. It put her own hot temper to shame.

They went downstairs, Justine feeling curiously naughty wearing her sister’s clothes with no underwear. She’d decided against a bra, but agreed with Kelly that she should wear a tight vest top to hold what she had in place.

Kelly went to the kitchen and put together some things for the picnic she’d planned. “Do you, uh, mind if we go in your car?” she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Sure. Is yours broken?”

“It’s, um, well, yeah. It’s broken down a bit.”

“No problem. As long as you realise that I’ve got 9 points on my license and drive like a maniac — sometimes with my eyes closed.”

Kelly looked over her shoulder and flashed a girlish grin from behind her trailing curtain of red hair. “Tease.”

Justine had seen that look before. She recognised it as just like the one she practised in the mirror before going out on a date. It made her wonder, and tingle at the same time.

The two girls were soon on their way. Kelly was clearly impressed with Justine’s car, making comments about the interior, the quality and all the mod cons.

“Costing me a fortune, though,” said Justine, trying to concentrate on the winding road.

“In running costs?”

“In payments! I’ll be paying this bloody thing off for the next year and a half.”

“Wow. I’d have to go and sell my body or something to get a car like this. Not that I‘d make up enough money by doing that, anyway.”

Justine reached over and patted Kelly’s thigh. “I’d pay, honey,” she said, throwing a grin over at her.

She was about to take her hand away when Kelly, quite unexpectedly, put her hand over Justine’s. She squeezed it lightly, then drew it off her thigh. The two locked gazes briefly and smiled at each other.

They spent the rest of the journey in silence, or making the odd comment about the local countryside here and there.

They arrived at Dover Castle, and Kelly was keen to show a genuinely impressed Justine into the Castle grounds. At the entrance booth, the man looked into the vehicle and grinned.

“Hey. Are you two sisters?”

“Yup!” said Kelly.

“Haven’t I seen you on the telly?”

“I don’t think so!” Kelly laughed. They went through.

Kelly told Justine about the big, imposing medieval castle, then suggested they go to the WW2 tunnels first. Justine said she was happy with that, but was a little scared of tunnels, caves and exposed spaces.

“Don’t worry; I’ll look after you,” said Kelly.

Justine changed her expensive shoes for some trainers she kept in the boot of her car, then the two sisters set off. They stopped at a small souvenir shop until the next tour party arrived, then joined in with a handful of other people into the tunnels carved out beneath the famous chalk cliffs.

As they descended into some poorly-lit tunnels, Justine made a show of shivering, and hung back a little. Kelly noticed this and went back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s—it’s just I’m a little afraid of the dark still. And these tunnels….”

“Come on,” said Kelly, pulling at Justine’s arm. “Nothing to worry about here.”

As they rejoined the rear of the small tour group, Justine felt Kelly’s hand slip into her own, their fingers interlaced. She felt a quickening of her heartbeat and turned her head in the dim, shadowy light. Thanks, her smile said. Thank you for the comfort. Justine kept hold of Kelly’s hand all the way through the tunnels.

After they emerged into the outside, the two girls went back to the car and got out their picnic. They picked a spot overlooking the harbour and sat down, talking idly about this and that, nibbling at the food Kelly had brought. Try as she might, Justine had little appetite. Her stomach was churning a little from both the fear and the excitement of holding her sister’s hand.

“Have you always been afraid of the dark?” said Kelly, as the two stretched out beside one another and leaned back onto the soft grass.

Justine nodded. “As far as I can remember. I used to have this doll when I was younger; Pip was her name. I used to cuddle her in my sleep.”

“Do you still have her?”

“No,” said Justine, faltering a little. “She’s — ah — she’s gone now. Sometimes I just cuddle up to a pillow nowadays.”

“I do that! I cuddle cushions when I’m lounging on the sofa watching a film.”

“I used to cuddle up to my boyfriend,” said Justine, staring out at the big passenger boats as they navigated in and out of the gap in the huge harbour wall below them.

“I miss Dave,” said Kelly, in a small voice.

“Dave?” said Justine, automatically thinking of her cheating ex-boyfriend.

“My husband. He wasn’t very romantic. But he used to let me cuddle up now and again.”

“He must have been mad. Sorry–” said Justine, hastily; not wanting to offend her newfound sister. “I mean, if I was him, I’d be romantic to you all the time.”

Kelly shifted sideways and looked over at Justine, strands of her red curly hair covering one eye. She smiled. “Would you?”

“Absolutely!” said Justine, all conviction. She glanced sidelong at her sister, then stared back out to the harbour. “If I were your — you know — I’d buy you flowers, I’d take you to the theatre—”

“Would you write me poems?” said Kelly, stifling a giggle.

“All the time. Until you were sick of me reading them to you in bed.” She cleared her throat. “Roses are red, violets are blue; Kelly’s so pretty, this poem’s for you.”

Kelly laughed out loud and lay back onto the grass. “Then I’d have to do one for you.”

“Go on, then.”

Kelly took a deep breath and scrunched her features in concentration. “Roses are red,” she began, then hesitated, “and violets are blue…” She shook her head, not knowing what next to say.

“Uh-huh,” said Justine, teasing her and prodding Kelly’s tummy with her finger.

Kelly giggled and squirmed. Eventually she blurted out, “You’re wearing my clothes, but you’ve got your own shoe.”

“Agh! That’s terrible!” Justine said, tickling Kelly with a fury. The other woman rolled on the grass and laughed hard, offering only halfhearted attempts to stop Justine from tickling her. Eventually, the two lay back again, and Justine realised she’d squashed the roule cheese with her leg and now had the soft creamy stuff on her thigh. This brought about another fit of laughing as they cleared away the picnic.

Meanwhile, the sun dipped in the sky, and the boats sailed in, sailed out of the harbour. For Justine, it was the perfect picnic, the perfect day. And she knew, with a growing fear at the pit of her stomach, that she was falling desperately in love with her newly-found twin sister.

Continue on to Chapter 4