She poured another round of whiskey in my shot glass and smiled mischeviously. I looked down at the glass and shuddered. It was the fourth one and I was really starting to experience the effect.
"Stephanie ..." I started to protest but my big sister gave me a stern look and held up her glass to shut me up and urge me on.
We sat across from each other in our parent's living room, the old glass coffee table between us. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch and I sat in the old wooden chair we used to suffer our 'time-outs' in when we were children. Of course, she'd spent
way
more time in the chair then I had.
She'd always been a little wild and I got the feeling, sometimes, that our parents had been a little relieved when she'd left for college last year. She was home now for a week to visit before the next semester started. It was her Junior year at St. Catherine's across town and I was going to be a Freshman at Stanmont nearby.
"I don't see how getting drunk is going to make me do better in college."
She sighed dramatically and flipped her long silky black hair back over her shoulder.
"Quit bein' a pussy!" She was starting to slur. "No brother of mine is going to college ... especially if he's gonna go Greek ... without knowin' the ropes!"
She slammed her shot back and set her glass down onto the coffee table harder than she'd probably intended to and burst into a fit of laughter.
"Whaaaat are you laughing about?" I brought my own shot to my lips but couldn't bring myself to drink it. Not yet anyway.
"Just picturin' ya gettin' it in the ass at the frathouse," she pumped her hips for emphasis, "Greek ... get it?"
"Shut up," I laughed with her, "what do you girls get into over at the chapter house? Hmmmmmmm?"
Stephanie peered at me through her dark bangs and let the mischevious smile fly again.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
My mind conjured images of piles of naked college girls entwined in sensual passion. I pictured my sister with some blonde cheerleader's face buried between her long thin legs.
"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" She asked as she poured herself another shot.
"Like what?" I pushed away the thought, threw back the shot, and shuddered.
I decided to hold on to my glass because I knew that if I set it down, Steph would pour me another.
She laughed again and leaned back on the couch to stretch.
I caught myself taking the opportunity to run my eyes over her body, lingering on her full perky breasts. The way she was stretching, they were barely contained in the tight red tank top she wore.
Her legs were spread a bit and I couldn't resist sweeping my eyes over the inside of her thighs ... all the way to the tiny white canvas shorts she wore. I did manage to resist checking out her camel-toe - she was my sister after all.
She was tall, only an inch or two below six feet, I was sure of it. She was also very thin, and she was mostly legs.
The thing I'd always noticed about her, growing up, was how long and elegant her hands were. Now, at twenty, she'd finally grown into them. That was the best way to describe her, I thought ...
long and elegant
.
It seeped into my consciousness that it was as if I was seeing her for the first time. Not just seeing her, but actually seeing her as a grown woman.
"The last guy who looked at me like that," she said to the ceiling before relaxing back into the couch and fixing me with her gaze again, "got himself laid."
I don't know if it was the shame or the guilt that made me avert my gaze and blush.
"OH MY GOD!" She burst out laughing again. "You were totally checking me out!"
"You are kinda hot." The liquor had done it's job; my mouth was taking over. "You look just like Mom."
"Shut up! Don't even talk about Mom being hot, Goofball!" She laughed and looked down at my empty glass. "You're a pussy and a pervert!"
"I'm not a pervert! I've never even ..." I managed to catch myself too late.
"HOLY SHIT! You're not still ...?" She clapped her hands and covered her mouth, wide-eyed, and dramatically.
"You never fucked that little promise-ring wearin', bitch-face, girlfriend of yours?" She jumped up and came around the couch with the whiskey bottle. "
Did you
?"
"She's a good girl!" I retorted. "Not like some chicks I know."
I looked up at her to imply that I was referring to her so she patted me on the shoulder as if she was consoling me. I knew she was just adding insult to injury.
"Good for you." She said as she took my glass from my hand and filled it. "You're too cool for her anyway."
She said it in a way that almost convinced me that she was being genuine and I felt a strange feeling wash over me.
It occured to me that I had actually missed her when she was gone. As much as we had pretended to hate each other over the years, there was still a
little
love underneath it all.
She plopped her ass on the table and handed me back my shot glass.
"If you fall through that glass table, I'm not cleaning up your blood."
"Look," she tilted my face up to hers with her finger and caught my gaze, "You are ..." she thought for a second and continued. "Let's face it ... you're kinda hot yourself."
She held up her glass. I held up my glass and she tapped her glass to mine.
"I know all kindsa girls that'd get all moist for ya."
"Oh, really?" I took the shot and held it out for a refill.
She smiled and took down her shot. "Trust me."
I guess there's a certain point when inhibitions just melt away.
She was very close to me. I could actually feel the heat of her body emanating from her bare legs on mine and I could smell the strangely intoxicating scent of her perfume blended with the whiskey she'd drank seeping from her pores.
It excited me - and I seemed to be too drunk to care.
She pressed her leg to mine and leaned in so close to me that her hair tickled my cheek.
"I'm kinda
dewey
myself," she whispered into my ear conspiratorally.
Something changed in me then. I could feel it. It was like a set of tumblers fell into place inside me and a door that had been shut and buried deep in my unconscious had swung open a tiny bit.
A flood of memories burst through the door. Memories I'd thought I'd buried.
I remembered masturbating, jerking my meat to thoughts of young cheerleaders and Asian chicks with hairy pussies, but at the end of the day ... whenever I'd reach that peak and let my mind go... my thoughts would seem to always turn to the women in my family: Aunt Helen; my sister; our cousins out West. Hell, sometimes, I'd even ejaculated thinking about Mom.
Maybe I
was
a pervert after all.
I took the bottle from her and leaned back. She leaned back and held out her glass. First, I filled hers, then I filled mine.
"Wanna play a drinkin' game?" I asked her.
She smiled a wide grin of victory and held her glass up to toast herself.
"That's the spirit!"
***************************
I don't know if it was the sound of my mother's gasp or the pounding of my heart that snapped me out of my blackout, but either way, my world had suddenly came to a screeching halt.
I looked around me to gather my bearings.
Mom stood in the doorway to my sister's bedroom ... I was in my sister's bed ... I was naked ... my cock was hard as a rock and a little slick. I didn't have to look to my left to know that the sweaty naked girl shivering in fear, reeking of liquor, and muttering the word
