In need of a break

When Hannah releases you from the orgasmic embrace, another “sorry” escapes her lips, halfhearted in the midst of her panting and moaning. She starts rubbing her clit again, slow and steady, riding out the waves of pleasure. Enraptured by the sight of your sinful older sibling’s nakedness on full display, your own ministrations continue.

The audible hitch in your breath gets her attention, pulling her out of post-climax euphoria. She regards you with a puzzled expression. “I, uh” she begins with eyes lingering on your body, “I finished. You don’t have to keep going.”

The second you process the words, your heart rate spikes. Shit, you’re blowing your cover! You detach your hands from yourself as if by reflex. “Oh, I– I wasn’t sure” you scramble out to save face. That’s a terrible lie. You cringe at your lack of composure. Hastily changing the subject to the first thing you can think of, you suggest, “why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

Looking around Hannah’s bedroom in search of something to dry off with, you finally take in the changes she’s made since you were last here. Much of it is familiar; computer desk, her bed, the dresser adorned with pictures of her friends and old classmates, mostly Liv at various ages. The new additions that catch your eye are a set of stage lights, a couple more posters of actors repping makeup brands, and a black receiver box with an antenna and a few wires connecting it to her computer. (You make a mental note to ask her about that later.) You spot a box of tissues by her bed and grab that.

When you turn back to hand it to her, she’s in the process of putting her top back on. You get one last look at her bountiful breasts a half-second before the fabric falls down around her. “Here” you alert her to your handing over the tissue box. With nothing left to do but stare Hannah down where she’s wiping off sex juices, your thoughts and eyes wander to your own naked chest.

Having come down from the numb haze of arousal, you no longer have a distraction from your self-directed disgust. You can see every sag, pock, and pore that marks your chest. You laugh internally at Hannah’s description of you as a doll still fresh in your mind. You know what to really look for. Maybe you wouldn’t mind your weak frame if your flesh didn’t look so sickly to you. Forget being ogled by your perverted sister, you can barely stomach your own mental awareness. You need to get out of here.

“So… if you’re good here, I’m gonna go.” You speed walk to the door, not wanting to leave room for any more conversation.

“Wait!” Hannah calls out. You stop in the open doorway. “Not that I wasn’t into it, but is that okay, what we just did? I mean, we’re sisters.”

“Sis, relax. All we did was look at each other.” That might have come off a little more flippant than you intended, but you really don't want to be kept any longer.

With those words as a terse farewell, you exit Hannah’s bedroom to end the conversation, anxiously awaiting the solace of your bed. The laundry detour Past Violet left for you goes ignored. Every wasted second feels like it might be the one to actually push up your breakfast. You kick the door shut behind you and flop onto your bed.

Grabbing every blanket in reach, you wrap yourself in layer after layer, until the shape of your body is completely obscured. Finally, you can pretend not to have any physical form at all. As soon as you stop moving, the emotional exhaustion accumulated from the moment you woke up finally catches up with you. Hopefully not every interaction with your sister will be that intense. You close your eyes and stop existing for a while.