Before they climbed into their separate sleeping bags and went to sleep, they did their best to clean things up. Alex got a wet washcloth and wiped his cum off the back of the couch. Allie took his cum-covered shirt, the cloth, and the blanket she had soaked and put them into the washer and started it. Then, exhausted, they hugged goodnight, unrolled their sleeping bags, and went to sleep.
Their mom had to come down and wake them in the morning. "Come on, you two. Everybody else is up. Breakfast is ready." She noted the wine bottle and glasses on the table by the couch but said nothing.
She stopped briefly by the washing machine, saw the odd collection of contents, and said simply, "Put this stuff in the drier before you come upstairs." That was it. Weird.
They both took a quick shower, threw on some clothes, and went upstairs. They said nothing to each other about the events of the prior night or about their mom's lack of curiosity. They both found it odd, though.
The day went as big holidays do. They were too busy and distracted to talk much to each other. They both felt a new closeness, though, and cherished it all day.
That night, when everybody again went to bed, their mom kissed them both goodnight and told them she loved them. When they went down the stairs toward the family room, oddly, she shut the door behind them.
They shrugged it off.
Once alone again, they talked it over. She started: "So, you good about last night?"
"Good? Yeah, I'm good. I thought it was really cool!"
"Me too." Allie paused thoughtfully, then continued, "So, what now?"
"Uh, I don't know. You got a plan?" he asked, with mild facetiousness. She usually did have a plan.
"Nothing specific. I just—" she could not say what she wanted to do. Everything? Anything? Nothing? Just pretend that it was no big deal and move on? Go back to normal? She didn't know, but the idea of handling his penis again, maybe giving him a blow job, did seem an intriguing possibility.
"Let's watch TV," he suggested lamely.
"Uh, sure. I guess." So, for lack of a better plan, they sat on the couch, side by side, and began to bicker over what to watch. Typical. Normal. This was them.
Finally, he said, "You know, Allie, I don't really care. You can watch whatever you want. I'm good." He said it sweetly, sincerely.
He did not care. He was not interested in TV even though it was his suggestion. He was interested in her, her vagina in particular. Touching her there, even making her cum, was not enough. He was not satisfied, but he lacked the nerve, let alone a strategy, to move things along.
In truth, she was open to just about anything that involved further sexual play. They had broken through into a new world of possibilities and they had but a couple more days to explore that world. So, she tuned the TV to something neither of them cared about and sat, rather stiffly, thinking about her next move.
Alex felt a need to relax. "I'm gonna get some more wine," he declared.
"Cool!"
Alex sneaked upstairs, grabbed a bottle and glasses, and took them back downstairs. Meanwhile, Allie quickly changed into her pajamas.
She left the top and bottom buttons of her pajama shirt unfastened just for fun, just to get his attention, to make him still more curious. It actually made her outfit only a little more revealing than the thin, white flannel that clung snuggly to her slight curves already did.
Alex sized up the situation on his return and started to grow excited. He poured some wine for them both, then sat down next to her.
"Don't ya wanna change?" she asked.
"No, I sleep in my underwear."
"Oh. Not ready to get into bed yet, huh?" she asked rather seductively. She fiddled with the second button on her shirt as she spoke. He watched, hopefully, to see what she would do, thinking about how hot she had looked the previous night right there on that same couch with her pants down around her knees, but she just gazed at him mysteriously and sipped wine.
Finally, he tried a new approach. "You look pretty sweet in your jammies, Allie." He was looking her over quite thoroughly, trying to see her cleavage, admiring how her small breasts played beneath the fabric, firm and, no doubt, pretty. He wanted to know, to see them clearly, to see them naked.
"Thanks," she replied. "I wonder if I could say the same of you?"
Alex got the hint this time. He stood up, removed his shirt, his pants, and socks, and stood there in his underwear. He was evidently in a sexual mood, she observed happily.
"You look nice in your sleeping clothes, as well," she allowed, smiling. She tore her eyes from his tented boxers and looked up at his face. "Maybe we should play a game," she suggested, having thought of a way to move things along. She took the remote and clicked the TV off.
They were feeling their way. Neither had any fixed idea of what was most desirable at this time. They both just wanted to do more sexual stuff and to get each other off again.
"Well, it's a little late for strip poker," he observed with a grin. "We're practically naked already."
"I was thinking more like flipping a coin and the winner gets to make a demand."
