The next hour seems to drag, with you finally dragging the mattress back over the semen-covered dildos, satisfied that they've dried out. You look around, wondering what else you might be able to do to her stuff, somehow feeling entitled to mess with her things by virtue of them having been yours, if only for a brief time.
A bit of weed, perhaps? You shake your head, having nothing but disdain for druggies. Her computer catches your eye, a hideously pink laptop that could've been made by Mattel for Barbie. Opening it you shift the mouse and see a login pop up. Knowing your sister it has to be something simple or she'd never be able to get in.
'Sue' you type, and the computer denies you. 'password' you type, and the login disappears.
"Stupid cunt," you mutter.
The longer you search the more it seems like a total bust for finding anything incriminating. It looks like the only damning things on this computer will have to be things you create yourself. Maybe you should move on to something else, like pissing in her shampoo.
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