But she's my sister, I can't.

Finally, your morals catch up with you.

"I can't," you protest. "Dawn... you're my sister! We shouldn't be kissing like this!"

"What," she says, her lower lip quivering in that puppy-dog way she has. "Don't you love me?"

"Of course I love you!"

"And don't you kiss the ones you love?"

"Of course, but--"

"I love you too," she says with a throaty growl, crawling on top of you with a leg in your crotch as she practically dry-humps your leg. "And my place is SO messy and I DESPERATELY need someone to clean it up for me and to do my laundry. And don't you want me to have nice clean clothes to wear?"

"Of course I do, but--"

"And don't you like my kisses?" she says in a little-girl voice, leaning down and giving you a long, warm, wet kiss.

You sigh with pleasure.

"Oh, yes," you say, your eye's glazed over.

"Then what's the problem?"