On my twenty-first birthday, I spent a majority of the day relaxing while my eighteen-year-old sister Marisol spent most of the day in her birthday suit. She told me it was because she wanted to get into the spirit of things. I laughed but told her my homeboys were stopping by later and she better be dressed.
I had gotten my own place after high school and have been independent of my parents since. Marisol told me she wanted a taste of that independence for her senior year of high school and begged to move in with me. I loved her, spoiled her, so I agreed. My place was, ironically, close to our high school anyway and I told my parents this would be good for her.
Marisol hadn't even been living with me a month before I noticed her clothes were everywhere but on her. I tried ignoring it, then talking to her about it. I even tried reverse psychology, but nothing stopped her. She refused to wear clothes in my house unless we had friends over. She was the same way as a little baby. Back then though, it was cute, but now it was...sexy!
There was nothing slack about Marisol. Trim and tanned, she was well muscled and even had chiseled abs. Her hair reached down between her shoulder blades, was dark brown and had brown highlights. She looked tough in tight jeans or cutoff shorts. She looked sexy when she wore a black dress with heels. And when she wore a sun dress she looked as sweet as can be. I supposed when I looked at her I didn't see a sister, but a woman who was unapproachable, untouchable, unknowable, taboo...
I suppose that's why I was attracted to her—because I couldn't have her. And since she was always prancing around in the nude I was only tortured. Maybe now you understand why I wanted her to stop.
Thankfully I was given some peace as my homeboys showed up. For the next couple of hours my mind was lost in a haze of bong smoke, entertained solely by Tekken 5 and Need for Speed Underground 2. Some time during the night, Marisol joined us and I was relieved to see she was dressed. She wore tight jeans and a black t-shirt with gold writing across her small breasts.
My little soiree ended after an hour's worth of porn and the munchies set in. My homeboys split, leaving me alone with Marisol. Honestly, she was the last thing on my mind as I just wanted to go back to my room, jerk off, and pass out.
Marisol, not knowing my intentions, followed me to my room, saying something about getting a CD. I asked which one it was but she only said she would know it when she saw it. I contemplated, as difficult as it was at the time, using the bathroom to jerk off. By the time my brain came to a decision, Marisol had already selected her CD and was placing it in my stereo. I saw it was the 'From Dusk Till Dawn' soundtrack.
"Hey, get out," I told her.
She just glared, "Don't tell me what to do, Joel."
