The Sisterhood: Carla

When my eldest daughter was in grade twelve one of her best friends came to live with us. Carla had a shitty home life; it had been bad as long as I known her. When Kate, my daughter, met Carla they were twelve and even then Carla was withdraw, shy and tense.

Things escalated to the point where, when Kate asked us if Carla could move in, my wife, other daughter Julia, and I all agreed that it was the best thing to do, for Carla. We loved her as a member of the family by then, and wanted her happiness.

Shelley, my wife and I, had spoken many times, speculating what had been going on in Carla's house, but nothing prepared us for the girl's night terrors. The first night she stayed with us, her screams from the basement drew the whole family down to her room.

Kate held Carla while she cried, and soothed her while the rest of us watched from the doorway. Shelley and I exchanged looks, realizing our worst thoughts were likely not dark enough. Something awful had happened to Carla.

For the rest of the week the screams happened every night, and I admit to regretting bringing her into the house a little. But we were committed to being a family for her now.

I worked nights three days a week at that point. I was a musician, with a regular gig playing piano at a very popular nightclub. It was a sweet gig and I loved it, but it meant I got home late on weekends. On the first Saturday after Carla moved in I got home at 2:30 a.m. and was having a glass of water in the kitchen when the screams began.

I quickly went to Carla, hoping to get to her before anyone else woke up. She was huddled in her bed in what was formerly the guest room. Carla was squeezed into the corner where the bed met two walls and she was blindly staring at the door.

I entered, but didn't go to her right away, not sure what that might do to her. I turned on the light and she woke up. Immediately she looked at me, flinched, her eyes wide, her breathing shallow and fast. Then she began to cry. I'm a father, I went to her, crawled onto the bed and pulled her gently to me and held her.

My heart bled for her.

I held Carla for a time, murmuring stupid things about her being alright now, and that kind of thing. Soft, soothing sounds that meant nothing specifically. I held her tiny frame in my arms and felt her shaking.

Carla was, and still is a tiny woman. At this point she was fragile. She didn't eat much and had only turned eighteen a month or so before, so she was still very thin and had yet to fill out. To me she felt like a child in my arms, so I didn't have any sexual thoughts. She was scared and needed me.

The next morning however...

Sundays around our house are pretty relaxed. Late mornings, the occasional group breakfast, but really we are a busy family with lots of extra-curricular activities. Naturally I got up late, having been up late. When I came downstairs in my pajama pants and a t-shirt I didn't expect anyone else to be there.

Carla was reading something on her phone, sipping coffee or tea, looking, as I did, like she had just gotten up.

Carla and Kate's friends, this group of girls that always spent time together and called themselves the Traveling Sisterhood or something, had spent the night many, many times. I was completely used to a house full of girls, what with having two daughters and all, but I was not used to them being half naked.

I had been avoiding the yard for years whenever they used the pool or sunbathed. It seemed prudent to make myself scarce when teenaged girls wore bikinis. Self-preservation probably, but it had long been my policy.

This morning Carla was wearing a large, loose men's tank top. It plunged so far down around the arm holes that I could see the side of her small breasts peeking out. In the front, her minimal cleavage was on full display where the front plunged deep between her breasts.

On her bottom she wore tight yoga pants that clung to her legs like a second skin. This was not what she had been wearing to bed last night.

Carla glanced up from her phone when I entered and looked at me with haunted, sleep deprived eyes. Her hair was tussled from sleep and she looked sad.

"Morning Mr. C." she said.

"Hey Carla."

I quickly prepared myself a bowl of cereal, trying not to notice that Carla was a pretty young woman now. She had long auburn hair and green eyes, pale skin, and a beautiful smile when she used it. I'd guess she was five foot three, maybe a hundred and ten pounds, but perhaps less.

Carla was petite, sleight even. Her body had muscle, but she was lithe and ethereal looking. There was a magical, elfin quality to her that for some reason today seemed more overtly sexual than ever before. I busied myself with my breakfast and did what I'd been doing for years, I ignored temptation. Again.

As a married musician I had become very good at deflecting female attention.

I took my cereal to the music room. Down in the basement we had a room that had been there when we moved in two years before. It was a small ten by ten room with windows on all four walls. The house was built on a hill, so the back of the basement was above ground while the front was below.

The whole family played multiple instruments and we sound-proofed the room somewhat so the kids and I could record music. I went in and ate while listening to some tracks I'd been working on for fun.

I was lost in the music a while later when I noticed Carla come down and go into her room. Moments later she came back out with a yoga mat and set it up in the middle of the living room area. As I tried not to look, Carla began doing yoga in her very tight pants and very loose shirt.

The moment she bent over, her butt aimed to my left, I saw her breasts exposed as her loose shirt fell over her head. Most of her torso was exposed for a second, and when she stood up again to adjust it, I peered at my monitor looking for anything that wasn't a half-naked eighteen year old.

I worked on my laptop studiously for several moments, painfully aware of the exposed flesh just outside the room. I could see her moving up and down as she stretched, but I didn't so much as glance her way until I saw her disappear below my sight for a long time.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I sat up higher in my office chair hoping to get a look. Carla was on her back in a twisted position, her knees pointed toward me, both on one side of her body, her shoulders flat on the ground her head turned the other way.

Carla had tucked the shirt into her waistband, but that had pulled the shirt down low. I saw immediately that her left breast had slipped out of her shirt as she twisted. I watched her breathing deeply, her soft breast flat against her ribs, the nipple hard and pointing straight up invitingly.

The pale pink nipple was small and tight, like a little candy begging to be sucked. Feeling not like a man in his forties with two teenaged daughters, but like a kid who never got to see bared breasts, I gaped at her small mound, enraptured.

I saw her legs twitch and intuited that she was changing position so I settled down into my chair and looked at my screen for a few more minutes trying to calm myself. I didn't know if she'd seen me looking, but I once again pretended to focus on my work, an aching erection in the wrong position in my loose pajama pants.

Disappointed in myself,-why was I getting all hot and bothered over a kid I'd known for years?- I adjusted my annoying erection and took my cereal bowl up to the kitchen. As I left the music room Carla looked up at me from the floor.

Now Carla was doing the splits while leaning her torso over one leg. She smiled an innocent, distracted smile at me. Her wide-spread legs exposed the way her yoga pants rode up into her sex, revealing the puffy thick lips of her vulva to my overly excited eyes. Her right breast was falling out of her tank-top now, her breast firm and rounded as she leaned forward to her left.

I smiled back, feeling ill, and practically ran upstairs.

Having a shower, I ran it slightly colder than usual at first, adamantly refusing to jack-off over one of my daughters friends.

If the circumstances had been different I might have found this thrilling. Carla was very pretty, in a waifish, vulnerable way. But it was that very vulnerability that scared me. There was something about her that felt dangerous to me.

Carla, in general, was the quietest of Kate's three best friends. Courtney and Kate seemed to be the leaders and Tiffany was the most overtly sexy, in my opinion, but suddenly Carla seemed alluring in a way I'd never truly noticed before.

I suppose seeing a woman's breasts might suddenly make her seem more of a sexual being to a person, but really only if you find that breast sexually attractive. Normally I liked a fuller breast than what Carla's were, so simply seeing her breast shouldn't have been able to inciting me this much. It was more than simple exposure, it was her.

Every instinct I had told me to avoid her as much as possible. But she lived in my house.

When I was dressed and feeling more like an adult again I ventured out of my room. I realized I was hiding, taking much longer to dress and make myself presentable than usual. I was trying to make my middle-aged-self look appealing to a girl hardly older than my eldest daughter. I was fairly ashamed of my behavior.

I was even more ashamed when I felt disappointed that I didn't find Carla in the house when I emerged from hiding. I made myself a coffee and took it to the studio room. As I went inside I looked out the window into the back yard and there was Carla, in a black bikini, sunbathing in a lounge chair.

Staring at her smooth, pale skin, shining with lotion, I admired her lean legs. The muscles of her calves and thighs were enticingly exposed, the soft skin calling to me. Carla had positioned the chair angled to expose her to the sun, but the angle also left her fully exposed to my window. Coincidence?

Her flat stomach rose and fell with her calm breathing, the little dimple of her belly button a delight to behold. Carla's sleight breasts, covered by thin materiel, the nipples still hard and pointy, moved with her breathing. The swell of her mounds were so firm looking my mouth watered thinking about kissing and licking them.

Carla was around ten feet from me, through the glass and I could easily make out erotic details. I watched her little pink tongue dart out and lick her soft lips. I could make out the groove of her sex through her bikini bottoms and I memorized the rise of her mons, the shape of her lips, my mouth dry now.

I watched, jealous of her fingers, as she brushed them over her skin, wiping away perspiration from her upper thigh or flat tummy. Displayed before me was the perfect model to capture in sculpture the essence of youthful sensuality.

My cock throbbed like a randy teen's.

I heard Kate come home then. Pulled from my reverie, I had been lost in my lechery for several minutes, I quickly sat down as my daughter thundered down the stairs looking for her best friend.

"Hey Dad. Have you seen Carla?"

"She's out back." I tried to blow it off casually, but I could hear an odd quality in my voice.

Kate ignored it and looked past me into the yard.

"Ooo, fun. I wanted to get some sun too."

My eldest daughter ran back upstairs, and I went back to ogling her friend until Kate came out and joined her. If I'm being totally honest, and I don't see why I shouldn't, I compared Kate and Carla once they were both lying out in their bikinis.

It was unnerving looking at my daughter's body while feeling lust. Carla's exhibitionism had sparked me in a way I'd not been in a long time, and my perverted mind just rolled my little girl into fuel for my fantasies. Guiltily, I studied Kate, comparing my daughter's body to that of her friend's.

Kate was very much like her mother, someone I'd always found very desirable. Both women were blonde and beautiful, with more curves than Carla. Kate had slightly fuller breasts, B cups maybe, and more hip. As they lay next to each other, Kate a bit taller, I realized that my daughter looked like the older of the two, not Carla.

Kate was more tanned, and her golden hair gleamed in the sun, but I was drawn to the darker mystery of Carla and her auburn hair. I guarantee I spent far too much time assessing both ladies as sexual beings and comparing their bodies as sexual objects for my own comfort. I felt like a pig.

But I had not been this aroused in years.

I found an excuse to leave the house to run some errands, something I rarely do on Sundays. I needed to get away from Carla. In just over an hour I had managed to check out both her tits and leer at her sunbathing, and topped it off with gawking at my own daughter.

I wasn't feeling my best.

I played that night, and had a great show. I was very flirty at work, and I joked a lot with the female guests at the bar. Carla had awoken something in me. I was happy to go home at the end of the night, but during my drive I was less certain it had to do with escaping from work without doing something I'd regret, or the idea of going home to Carla.

I was deep asleep when the screaming began.

I've always been a lighter sleeper than Shelley, and when our girls were babies I usually sat with them at night when they cried. I rolled away from Shelley, who I awoke to find I was spooning tightly, I murmured that I'd go, same as when the kids were infants, and I staggered out of our room wandering toward the sound of screams.

I turned on the hall light outside Carla's room, but I didn't turn on her bedroom light as I entered. The spill of light from the hall was more than enough to see the poor creature, terrified out of her mind, huddled in the corner of her bed.

Carla woke up as I reached her bed, and she reached out for me in the most endearing way; so small, so vulnerable, and in terrible need. I crawled up onto the bed and wrapped myself around her with both my arms and legs, and rocked her while cradling her thin body.

I want to state for the record, this being the record I suppose, that I didn't plan any of this. I didn't jump up and run to her with any motive other than comforting her and stopping the noise that was going to wake up the whole house.

The terror in Carla's eyes when she had been staring at me as she awoke was real, and it sparked true compassion in me, not some sleazy gambit to fondle a young woman. I wrapped myself around her the same way I had my own children for years.

The difference of course was that Carla was not a child, nor was she mine. The moment she snuggled into my arms and settled down I noticed a few things, all at once. It will take more time to write them than it took for each sensation to hit my awareness.

We were very intimately tangled with each other, but this wasn't the first time we' been so close in the last week. The differences were how little each of us was wearing. I had only boxer shorts on. As my body settled around hers, I felt the warm, smooth caress of her skin. She wore only a camisole on top; her arms were bare, her torso covered by smooth, satiny textured material. Her legs were also bare, only panties below the waist. Carla was very hot to touch, and slightly sweaty.

Her head came to rest on my bare chest, my arms around her shoulders. My legs stretched around her, my left pressed to her butt, her legs bent and settled over top of my right leg. One of her small hands came to rest on my shoulder, and the other wiped her tears as she sniffled.

The other thing I noticed, immediately, the moment I pressed her body to mine to comfort her, was that I had an erection. I had been wrapped around my wife moments before; my cock pressed to her wonderful ass. My body had been reacting to that delightful stimulus less than sixty seconds before. Now my erection was poking into Carla's side, the length stretching along her hip and pressing into her flank.

Carla settled sideways, and I adjusted, trying to hide my boner. I leaned against the bed's headboard and held her while she cried. Carla smelled wonderful; she worked at a soap store, so she always had the most delicious smells. Tonight it mingled with sweat and her own personal musk. It was intoxicating.

I would guess that we sat like that, utterly entwined, for five minutes or so. My mind drifted sleepily along perverted lines. I allowed myself to indulge in the erotic power of holding a mostly-naked young woman who was not my wife.

Each breath Carla took meant her flank expanded, and sandwiched my cock between her soft body and my own. I stroked her lower back, soothing her, my fingers finding the edge of her camisole and sneaking under to brush her silky skin. I rested my chin along the top of her head and she pressed her cheek to my chest.

Fearful of what I was doing, I held still, not so much as twitching, except for the one hand that caressed her lower back, consoling her. Carla accepted my comfort silently, hardly moving either, her sobs quickly fading into deep breathes.

I almost jumped when she spoke, her voice low and quiet.

"I've had these night terrors for a few years now. Sometimes it gets really bad, mostly when I'm stressed." I said nothing, but I squeezed her tight, using my whole body, implying she was safe.

"It took me a long time to discover the only cure I've found. I had to experiment. Doctors tried to help, and I have tried a few holistic methods, but in the end only one thing works. And I can't always find it."

When she spoke I could feel the vibration through her body into my own. Something about that vibration aroused me even further, my cock swelling in spite of my anxiety.

Carla's little hand on my shoulder traced small circles as she spoke, and then found my chest hair. Twirling her fingers through my hair her fingers explored lower. Carla pressed her palm to my pec, for all the world feeling like she was fondling me. I was trying to pretend there was no sexual tension, I had not been with a new lover in a very long time, but the tension was undeniable.

I stopped rubbing her back and let my hand drift up to her shoulder, cupping her flesh like it were her breast. Both of us had a hand caressing the other, we were pressed close, hardly moving except those two brave hands.

"When I was a baby I had a soother." Carla continued, "Apparently I loved it immediately. I would have it with me all the time, sucking away on it. My Mom had to hide it from me, but I would be inconsolable if it were gone. My Dad always gave it back to me."

Carla's hand drifted lower now, running her fingernails through my thick chest hair, delighting me with tickly, intimate sensations. My hand began to stroke the length of her bare arm, the same arm now hypnotizing me.

"I kept that soother for a long time; it's the earliest possession I remember. It always kept away the night terrors. Just the feeling of it in my mouth soothed me."

Carla shifted, wriggling around until she found a new, more comfortable spot to snuggle. My erection smooshed against her body as she moved, until she stopped her contortions. Her new position freed it from the confines of being squeezed between us. I was both relieved and disappointed.

My disappointment dissipated as her fingers drifted lower, moving toward my now available member. Where was this going?

"Of course I couldn't keep a soother my whole life. At some point it disappeared, no doubt mother's fault. There were a few bad weeks there, but I found sucking my thumb in secret helped, a little."

Carla's tiny fingers tickled lower, dreamily circling along the hair of my belly now, inches from the tip of my cock where it stretched the front of my boxer shorts. Lifting my chin, I looked down past her head at her hand.