| Sleeping Soundly Based on the Short Story The sisters were three years apart in age. Angie, eleven, had beautiful gray eyes, darkly tanned skin, long black hair and a figure just beginning to develop. Though Angie did not wear a bra, her mom had begun seriously thinking about the need for one. Jamie we'll get to momentarily. It was a Saturday night in mid-June. It was hot in the cabin and though nearly midnight, Angie could not sleep. She loved being in the woods, away from home and school and temporarily, even her friends, even Maggie French, her best friend and recent kissing partner, but it was too hot for mid-June, and the cabin was miserably hot. "Dammit," she muttered for the dozenth time in the last half hour. Her mom wouldn't like it, but taking off her pajama bottoms and tank top and sleeping in only her panties would be so much cooler. She grumbled irritably for a time about her mother. Finally, throwing herself on her back in frustration, Angie wrestled out of her blue and white striped pajama bottoms and beige tank top (no stupid kids stuff for Angie) and threw them on the floor. Of course, she'd put them back on in a couple of minutes. If she accidentally fell asleep and got caught like this in the morning, she knew she'd get a spanking. (She wondered if her mom would bare-bottom her right there in front of Jamie, or take her into her bedroom to perform the honor. She hated being spanked in front of her little sister. More than anything, she hated being spanked in front of her little sister. Well, no. That prize went to being spanked in front of one or more of her friends. That was worse than anything. That was super-worse. Even the thought of it made Angie shudder.) Immediately, she grabbed her pajama bottoms and tank top off the floor and put them back on. She scowled at her sister. Jamie was nine years old. She was also darkly tanned, had chocolate brown eyes, her sister's jet black hair, and a spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. But where Angie's hair was straight like her mom's, Jamie had inherited their dad's curls. Her hair, thick and black and curly and halfway down her back, currently lay in a jumble around Jamie's head. "Stupid bitch," Angie mumbled bitterly. Though she liked Jamie well enough, Jamie could fall asleep anywhere in any circumstance; this never failed to irritate the sleep-challenged Angie. Tonight, idiotically, her sister was asleep with her knees drawn up beneath her, arms laid out at her sides, her slender rear end propped in the air directly above her dainty feet. How can you sleep like that? Angie wanted to know. She wanted to get out of bed, cross to her sister's bunk and shove her onto her side. Maybe smack her on the ass for good measure, but that would only get her own self spanked so forget that thought. She'd settle for shoving the brat onto her side. Sitting up, Angie was just about to push off the bunk when her sister stirred. Angie blinked, rather stunned at the unaccountable sensation her sister's stirring had just awakened in her. What was that? she wondered. All Jamie had done was wiggle her butt restlessly and shrug her shoulders. Sitting on her bunk, Angie was suddenly aware of how vulnerable her sister looked in that position. With her head turned away on the pillow, her arms lying limply at her sides, her rear end propped ridiculously in the air, it looked almost like Jamie had been placed that way for a reason. As though somebody planned to do something to Jamie. Something not nice. Angie gulped. Maybe I really should go push her on her side, Angie thought. At the same time, she was aware of an inching in her palms, a corresponding itch in her underarms and one, the strangest one yet, between her legs. What was going on with her? Angie understood about sex. She even knew sex happened between two girls, two boys, and men and women all the way up to her mother's and dad's ages. She had seen sex on the Internet, though some of it grossed her out. What she didn't understand was why looking at her nine-year old sister made her all tingly inside and made her palms and her underarms and her thingy itch. "What is going on?" she whispered aloud. Please don't tell me I'm having the hots for my sister! What Angie saw in her mind, and what she wanted to see in reality, was her sister's bare rear end in the air. What she wanted was to creep across the narrow space between the beds, take her sister's Hannah Montana pajama bottoms in her hands and slide them, together with her panties, off the delicate little behind and down Jamie's thighs until they got caught between her thighs and calves. The thought of that had Angie's heart unexpectedly thumping and her breath feeling hard to catch. Gulping loudly, she asked herself if she had the courage to do it. She'll wake up, the voice of reason told her. She'd sleep through an earthquake, the voice of desire retorted caustically, which of course, was true. Jamie slept like a rock, was essentially as hard as a rock to wake up. A passenger jet crashing outside might not wake her. Mom, Reason put forth, not needing to expound on the idea. To which Desire answered blithely: Sound asleep. And instantly detectable the instant she set foot in the hallway, which of course, was correct also. No one moved in the hallway--Angie included--without making the boards squeak horribly. She had discovered that fact, much to her rear end's horror, her first night in the cabin. Ignoring the battle in her head, Angie abandoned the bunk and tiptoed the three feet to Jamie's bunk and knelt down on one knee. How best to approach this, she wondered. Putting her thumb in her mouth, she chewed the nail anxiously for a time, then reached out and gingerly slipped her thumbs beneath the waistband of her sister's pajama bottoms, one at either hip. She was relieved to feel the edges of her sister's panties right there where she needed them and slipped her thumbs beneath them also. Carefully, sucking in air and holding it, making a fearful grimace with her face, looking away as though expecting an explosion, Angie began to lower her sister's panties and pajama bottoms down her hips and over the hump of her butt cheeks. With surprising swiftness and ease, she had the clothing down and out of her way and her sister's rear end completely bare. She couldn't see her sister's privates, of course, not with the material of the pajama bottoms and panties bunched up between Jamie's thighs and calves, but to Angie's giddy delight she could see the small brown button of her sister's exposed asshole. OMG! she thought wildly, her mind forming the capitalized letter form of the popular phrase instead of the words. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. Unable not to do so, Angie pointed disbelievingly at her sister's embarrassingly displayed butt hole as though pointing it out to a group of friends. This is so hilarious! she thought. She suddenly threw frantic looks around the room as though expecting her mother to be standing right behind her. Doing something like this would not get her simply spanked over her mother's knee, oh, no! It would be the end of life at the age of eleven, death by humiliation. Cautiously, she backed away until encountering the edge of her bunk with the back of her knees and sat down. She had to think about this. This was dangerous. This was danger multiplied by a hundred million. She could never outgrow getting caught like this. If her mom walked in now and found her--even sitting here, she realized, shuddering anxiously--it would be over the knee every night for the next year. Maybe every morning and night. She might even--Oh, my God! she thought, thinking the words this time--she might get sent away to a girl's school, a reformatory, or worse--a mental institution! In tears, Angie curled up in a ball and hid beneath the covers. * * * The following night, Angie was up late. Dad was frustrated with the lack of cable TV (satellite TV was useless when trees grew as thick around the house as, well, trees), and insisted the clan sit down for a family game night. They played Crazy-eights, and Hearts and Gin Rummy and half a dozen other games that Angie could have cared less about. The only thing she wanted was to go to bed and stop thinking about her sister. They had both slept late that morning; if Jamie had found it odd waking with her pajama bottoms and panties down around her thighs, she hadn't mentioned it. Of course, Angie would not have mentioned it either, were it she who'd awakened embarrassingly exposed. But when Angie had opened her eyes and yawned and stretched her arms over her head this morning, Jamie had been asleep on her side under the bedclothes. Angie didn't get to see if her pajama bottoms and panties were back in place or still around the nine-year old's slender thighs. Deciding to be safe rather than sorry, she had gotten out of bed immediately and vacated the room. Anxiety had eaten at all day long. Dressed now in a No Doubt T-shirt and a pair of white cotton shorts, her hair back in a ponytail and her ankles unconsciously crossed beneath her chair the way they always did whenever she was anxious, Angie eyed her sister surreptitiously. Never much good at cards, Jamie was fuming over the plethora of cards in her hands and the few held by either her mom, her dad or her sister. Their dad, Angie strongly suspected, was about to go out and send her little sister over the edge. She wondered if Jamie's silent fuming would exploded into a rant. She fervently hoped so. Nothing would please Angie more than Jamie getting hauled off to their bedroom--or better yet, being kept here!--to have her bare bottom ceremoniously set afire. Not so much because Angie wanted her sister thoroughly humiliated, though that, of course, was part of it; what Angie wanted was a docile and manipulatable little sister in case things went wrong tonight. Jamie had already changed and was in her Hannah Montana nightshirt. This had Angie in an almost uncontrollable state of excitement because all night she'd had a perfect view of her sister's coltish young legs, sneak peaks at her yellow Barbie-themed panties, and the occasional glimpse of her rear end whenever Jamie unselfconsciously bent over, which she did more than Angie had any right to expect. It was a constant battle to keep from licking her lips whenever Jamie spoke to her. Best of all? The cute way Jamie's tiny nipples made dents in the front of her Hannah Montana T-shirt. Angie never remembered noticing this before and was on constant guard not to look down at her own chest. Finally, frustratingly, Dad sent them to bed just before midnight. It was the latest either of them had been up in weeks, and Angie fumed inside at the injustice of it all. She changed into her tank top and pajama bottoms in silence as Jamie pulled back her bed sheets and climbed into bed. "What are you so mad about?" Jamie inquired. Startled, Angie looked up and over her shoulder. She had just wiggled into her pajama bottoms and was adjusting the waistband. She felt an immediate and intense discomfort at being topless in front of her sister, even though her back was turned and even though Jamie had seen her naked hundreds of times before. Hurriedly, she yanked the tank top over her head and turned around. She tried keeping her voice innocent. "What are you talking about?" Jamie shrugged. Her expression was only moderately interested, Angie saw. She appeared just perturbed enough to have asked the question in the first place. She didn't seem inclined to expend much effort pursuing the issue. Angie relaxed some. She shrugged her own shoulders. "Just tired, I guess. Didn't want to play cards the whole night. Major drag," she added, rolling her eyes. Unconsciously, she began to pull down the front of her tank top. This was something she always did when talking to Jamie and had never paid attention before. To her surprise, Jamie's eyes blindingly traveled down her chest and alighted on the two small bumps decorating the front of her tank top. Angie felt heat rise in her face and quickly released the shirt and made a beeline for the door, mumbling "Gotta pee," feeling her ears start to burn. To her immense relief, when she returned five minutes later, Jamie was on her side turned toward the wall with the comforter pulled up to her chin. She didn't even say goodnight as Angie slipped into bed, obviously asleep. "Of course," Angie mumbled irritably. "She can sleep anywhere. Anytime." Lying on her back, she shoved the covers off the end of the bed, made herself relax, and settled in for the hour or so wait until her parents were safely asleep. It would be a long, frustrating hour. * * * She was wet. Too wet. Embarrassingly wet. It was even embarrassing to her, and she had intentionally caused it, if not by the actions of her fingers in the last half hour, then certainly by the restless fantasizing she had done all day. In fact, her fingers had very little to do with the mess between her legs. Across the way, Jamie once again lay in that impossibly suggestive position. It must be the heat, Angie told herself. It had to be the heat. She couldn't be sure of that, of course, because at home, she and her sister slept in separate bedrooms. Jamie could sleep on her head with her feet propped against the wall for all Angie knew. Or, doubtful as it seemed considering the risk she'd be taking, Jamie could even sleep naked. Angie wanted to be naked right now. Rising out of bed, she slid silently to her sister's bed and lifted the back of her nightshirt out of the way. With hands that shook almost uncontrollably, she then slid Jamie's panties down her slender hips and over her buttocks and wedged them into the space between her calves and thighs. With it being just her panties wedged in the space instead of panties and pajama bottoms, Angie had no trouble seeing her sister's exposed girlhood. Her own girlhood tingled and throbbed alarmingly. She thought she could smell herself. In fact, she was sure she could smell herself. A musky, strong but not unpleasant fragrance that somehow got her even more excited. And to her surprise, she could also smell her sister. Shivering, having to do something, Angie stuck her right hand down her panties and slipped the middle finger deep inside her sopping wetness. She groaned, the sound of the groan making her groan again. She clutched at Jamie's mattress with her free hand. Her body, all of her individual body parts, shook independently of one another. Suddenly, Jamie groaned and flopped her head on the pillow. To Angie's horror, the sleep-ridden eyes wrenched themselves open and one after the other attempted to focus on her sister's form alongside the bed. Paralyzed, Angie couldn't move. "Ang?" Jamie raised her head and blinked sleepily. "Go back to sleep," Angie croaked in a whisper. Terrified, she couldn't seem to get her hand out of her panties. She couldn't even get her finger out of herself. "What's going on? Are you OK?" Jamie wanted to know. She pushed herself up into a sitting position. Only then did she notice the position of her panties and her sister's apparent rutting of herself. "Oh, my!" she whispered in shocked disbelief. Ready to melt in liquid embarrassment and seep through the cracks in the floorboards, Angie squeaked, "Oh, God, I'm sorry!" and jumped the intervening distance to her bed and curled up in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. She started to cry, silently but uncontrollably. A moment later she gasped in surprise as her little sister spooned in behind her and wrapped her in her arms. * * * They first experimented with kissing. Angie currently had her sister's face between her palms and was delving deeply into Jamie's mouth, in pursuit of her tongue. Though not as experienced as her sister, who had some experience with the boys at school, Jamie certainly enjoyed the instruction. "I like that!" she croaked, breathless but enthusiastic some minutes later. "Do it to me some more!" Giggling, Angie licked her sister sideways across the mouth, flicking her tongue against Jamie's teeth teasingly. What she wanted, and wondered desperately how to bring about, was to do that between her sister's legs. "Do you like this?" she asked, kissing Jamie just below her jaw. Jamie giggled at being tickled. "Yes," she said throatily. "Is that how you give a hickey?" Angie snorted and kissed all along her sister's neck until reaching her earlobe, which she promptly sucked between her lips and concentrated on. Jamie groaned, squirming with obvious enjoyment. Angie so enjoyed the fact that Jamie's breath was coming fast and hard, that her heart pounded like that of a racehorse. Her own heart beat equally hard and fast, a fist pounding against her ribcage. She kissed the hollow below her sister's ear and sucked on it lightly. She knew how hickeys were made and didn't want one appearing on her sister's neck. They'd both get beaten for that--and not barehanded either. Their dad would use a belt. Pulling her sister's nightshirt out of the way, Angie kissed all along the top of Jamie's left shoulder, and then back again. She repeated the entire kissing, sucking and licking procedure on Jamie's other side, until the nine-year was moaning continuously and in danger of waking someone up. "Shsss!" Angie admonished softly. As a compromise, she returned to chasing Jamie's tongue around her mouth. After a time, Angie moved off her sister and sat up, straddling Jamie's hips and sitting on them. With a cautionary glance at the door, and a pause to listen carefully, she fumbled and found the hem of Jamie's nightshirt, wrestled it up her chest and over her head and let it drop beside her on the bed. Reflexively, momentarily, Jamie crossed her arms over her bare chest, blinked at her sister owlishly, then finally relaxed and let her arms fall loose at her sides. Still, she stared up at Angie with obvious fear in her eyes. "What are we doing now?" she whispered hoarsely. Placing the palm of her right hand over the flat plain of Jamie's chest, where a left breast would someday grow, Angie caressed the soft flesh, enjoying the feel of her fingertips drawing together to find the pea-shaped and pea-hard nub of her sister's left nipple. A shudder, which Angie felt quite clearly, ran through the entire length of Jamie's frame. "Can I have an orgasm?" Jamie wanted to know. Surprised by the question, Angie answered truthfully: "I don't know. I don't see why not. I swear to God I'm having one right now," she added, giggling uncontrollably. While Angie toyed happily with her sister's erect nipples, Jamie slipped her hands up the front of Angie's T-shirt and ran them glidingly all over her abdomen, her rib cage, up her torso to discover the waiting bumps of Angie's newly-sprouted breasts. This time it was the older sister's turn to shudder all up and down her frame. Breathlessly, unsure of herself but wanting this desperately, she slid her hands behind her sister's shoulders and levered Jamie up into a sitting position. Remaining seated across her sister's hips, with one hand she pulled her T-shirt up and out of the way on the right side, with the other cupped behind her sister's neck, guided Jamie's mouth to her waiting nipple. She thought she'd die as the warm wet lips sought her out greedily. The continuous moan now belonged to her. Angie's shirt came off at some point while the girls groped and dug at one another, sucking and biting and teasing each other's nipples until neither girl could stand to be further touched. Perhaps Angie covered her sister's torso more completely in kisses than did Jamie cover hers, but only because Angie was the bigger and the stronger of the two and could hold the younger girl in place more effectively. They were both in their underwear only, grinding their pubic areas mercilessly against one another, and against each others hips, when Jamie suggested they make each other naked. "Are you sure?" Angie huffed. She looked at the bedroom door meaningfully. Their punishment would be so much worse if found with nothing on at all. Jamie was inclined to chance it. "It's two A.M. They're sound asleep." Neither girl understood just how much noise their loving making had been generating, but so far, somehow, they had escaped detection. Angie wanted to keep it that way. "That's really dangerous," she said. "Isn't it worth it, though?" Jamie insisted. "Imagine what we can do!" Angie knew exactly what they could do, though she feared her sister mightn't. The realization that Angie wanted to do something between her sister's open legs with all out abandon might send the nine-year old screaming into Mother and Father's bedroom--damn the consequences. Better, she thought, to cross that bridge when arrived at. Rising up on her hands and knees, she firmly grasped the sides of Jamie's Barbie-themed panties and slid them down and off the younger girl. She then waited, kneeling on the bed as Jamie lowered her own panties down to her knees, and then allowed her to take them awkwardly off one leg at a time as she knelt there. Now, when they wrapped each other in their arms and twisted legs around each other like human pretzels, it was bare genitals against bare genitals or against the bare skin of each other's hips and thighs. After a further ten minutes of desperate lovemaking, Angie for the first time sought out the cleft between her sister's legs and touched it with her bare fingertips. Jamie froze, gasping, and suddenly Angie felt fingertips glide down her stomach and seek out her own precious jewel. Her own breath caught in her throat. "I--I'm scared!" Jamie choked out. "So am I!" Angie gasped. In truth, she was absolutely terrified. Her fingertips rested lightly on the soft wet lips of her sister's baby-soft labia, at the edge of a warm wet hole that lead somewhere deep inside her little sister. Trembling fingertips touched her just as light and expectantly. Did she want the first lover's finger inside her to be that of her sister? She thought she did. She was sure of it. Slowly, deliberately, staring hard into her sister's chocolate brown eyes, breathing moist air into her mouth as it exited her sister's mouth only inches away, Angie inserted the middle finger of her right hand into the wetness of her sister's vagina. Oh, my God! Had she thought she was wet earlier!? Jamie was a swamp, almost shocking slimy. The feel of her sister's insides sent a lightning bolt down her spine like she had never experienced. A moment later, a solitary probing finger invaded her own depths and she shuddered again, gasping air down her raw throat. Jamie's answering shudder and gasp were equally powerful. Mouths came together moments later and refused to part for minutes on end. At two forty-one A.M., Angie first experienced her sister's nectar. She refused to surrender her prize for a ten full minutes, by which time her sister was almost hysterical with desperation. Despite her smaller size and her lighter weight, the rebelling nine-year old overpowered her bigger, stronger sister and forced her into a position that could best be described as humiliating, then proceeded to ruthlessly savage Angie's gaping hole with not only her lips and tongue, but every finger and combination of fingers and thumb she possessed. An object that Angie suspected was the handle of a brush made it into her also. Two minutes into the torture Angie's pleas for mercy were at least partially allowed, and she was given a pillow, which she then jammed over her face while her sister completed her torture. To her astonishment, she discovered that being violated anally by finger, thumb, tongue and inanimate object was equally erotic. When finally released, she collapsed into a boneless pile of Jell-O, wanting only to go to sleep . . . Jamie had other ideas. Some of which shocked her older sister into speechlessness. * * * It was ten o'clock the following evening. Pretending to read her book, Angie watched her sister warily. She had watched her warily all day, jumping at the slightest untoward movement on her sister's part, afraid to meet her eyes lest she see something there to set her in a panic again. How in the name of God, she wondered dismally, had things gotten so out of hand? For the moment, she remained in her T-shirt and shorts. She wore no underwear at her sister's command, and had been painfully aware of the fact all day. On the few occasions she'd gone pantie-less before, the sensation had been distinctly pleasurable, both for the daring-do of defying her mother, and the sought-after sensation of naughtiness. Save her fear of getting caught by her mom, there was little of those prior experiences today. She wondered, rather bitterly, if Jamie wore underwear. I'm three years older! she thought defiantly. I outweigh her by ten pounds. I'm three inches taller and I'm stronger than her. Why am I letting her control me? The truth was, she had no answer to this question. All night long, momentum and authority had been undeniably hers. Then suddenly everything flipped upside down, in her case, physically, held in place like a pinned wrestler while her sister had mauled her genitals. And mauled them she had. There was no other word to describe it. Her exterior parts and her insides still bore the ache of attention. It sent a shudder down her back every time she thought about it. The constant rub of her clitoris against the inside of her jeans that day had almost forced her to tears. She'd pay the little vixen back. Vixen, she thought angrily. That's exactly the right word. Hiding behind her book, Angie silently mouthed every kind of insult at her sister that came to mind. The little bitch, she fumed. Telling me I couldn't wear panties. Telling me she'd drag me over her knee and spank my bare behind the instant we were alone. Daring me to say anything to Mom. Telling me I had to eat her out anytime she wanted me to. (Which she had done three times that day, her face jammed between her sister's legs as Jamie scooted all the way forward on the toilet seat, hands clamped to Angie's head, keeping her mouth locked to the vixen's cunt. That's what Angie now called her repulsive bitch of a sister's squishy hole, even though she hated the word and thought it completely disgusting. I'll fix the bitch. I'll show her who's the cunt. Seething with anger, Angie peeked over the top of the book and discovered her sister gazing at her questioningly. In actuality, the look was a mixture of anxiety, hurt, embarrassment and trepidation. Little Jamie had no clue what was going on in her sister's head. To her understanding, the two of them shared the sweet dark secret of spending the day pantie-less, having committed a death-inviting act of insanity not once, but three incredible times in the bathroom, Mom and Dad within certain earshot. She had also thoroughly enjoyed the unexpected giddy teasing of her sister about getting spanked, not getting punched for it nor shown how easily she'd be the one going over the knee. Now, to have her sister glare at her as though she belonged to the Taliban . . .? * * * Eleven o'clock arrived and Mom and Dad called it a night. "Off to bed, you two," Dad said unconcernedly, thumbing the TV into blackness with the remote control. He stretched luxuriously, arms over his head and back cracking loudly as Mom reached over to turn off the table lamp. It was obvious from her intent gaze that Mom knew something was up with the girls. She had asked then in turn during the afternoon what was the matter and had gotten a surprised denial from one, and only a look of truculence from the other. Well, they'll work it out, she thought, shrugging. After locking up, Mom drifted down the hallway past the bedroom door of her two girls, listened astutely for a moment, then shrugged in resignation and entered her own bedroom and shut the door. Twenty minutes later the bar of light beneath the door went out, and the house was in darkness. * * * "What is the matter with you?" It was twenty minutes later and Jamie was close to tears. Suffering her sister's hostile silence, she had self-consciously changed for bed and gone to the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth, not daring even to look at her sister, much less hint for her to join her. She wondered if everything they'd shared the night before and that afternoon had been a delusion. She wondered if right now she was comatose in some hospital bed somewhere, a jangle of pipes and tubes and electrical contacts erupting from her like tentacles. She wondered if she was insane or if her sister had gone insane from too much sex. Certainly, she'd been insane last night, and then again on the toilet seat this afternoon and evening, but that had been a wonderful type of insanity, the type you prayed for. This seemed like the worse horror movie she'd ever watched, come to life. No longer able to control herself, she burst into tears. * * * Angie stared at Jamie, shocked. She blinked three times, very slowly, then slowly sucked her lower lip into her mouth and between her teeth. Her sister was crying? The anger in her, so close to boiling over all night long, receded as quickly as spaghetti foam in a pan when lifted from the fire. The underlying heat remained, of course, just as the water in the pan remained at boiling temperature after the evaporation of the foam, but she was no longer in danger of boiling over the sides and ruining the stove. Or the spaghetti noodles. Despite her return to self-control, truculence poisoned Angie's voice. "Nothing's the matter with me. Why?" "Why?" Jamie wailed incredulously, cringing and turning to stare at the door. For a time both girls stared at the door holding their breaths; finally, when it became obvious that Mom would not respond aggressively, Jamie continued to cry; Angie continued to watch her suspiciously. What is she playing at? she wondered. Playing cat and mouse with me to see if I let down my guard? What's her plan then? To rope me to the bed and rape me with the hair dryer? Shocked, and horrified at the thought, she wondered what dark recess of her mind that had come from. Even when at her terrorizing worst, at no point had her sister intimated doing anything like that to her. And to Angie's further horror, she discovered that, on some deep, psychological level, some aspects of the idea actually appealed to her. Just as being violated anally had both horrified and delighted her last night. She battled hard to keep images of herself bound hand and foot to the bed with heavy, bruising rope out of her mind. After a time, Jamie sobbed: "What did I do wrong? If I did something wrong, something that really made you mad, please just tell me." She waited out a two minute round of uncontrollable sobbing before continuing. "I was having so much fun today. I thought you were having fun. Then you started getting mad at me after dinner and I don't know what I did." She hiccuped loudly and bore through another thirty second burst of sobs. "Suddenly you're like I stole your favorite top or ruined your best pair of jeans, or told Mom something really bad about you." She jerked at the thought, gasping. Aghast, she cried softly: "You think I told Mom? I didn't tell Mom! Why do you think I told Mom!" Her eyes expanded to the size of silver dollars and her mouth opened cavernously in shock. All color bleached out of her face. "She knows? She told you? Oh, my God!" she cried, threatening to wail again. "What are we going to do?" Realizing her sister hovered inches away from hysteria, Angie shot off the bed and dove the three feet to tackle Jamie before she could go off like a Banshee. "No, no, no, no, no, no," she pleaded and soothed at the same time. She sealed her sister's mouth with the palm of her right hand, clutching her tightly to her with her left. She could feel the explosive wails building dangerously in Jamie's chest, even as she repeated saying "No, no, no, no, no, no," continuously. "Listen to me!" she panted. "I was wrong. I let myself get all weirded out and thought you were controlling me." Jamie's eyes, already wide and starry, blinked and grew even wider. "I was crazy," she went on. "I convinced myself I was you and you were me, that you had taken control of me somehow. After what you did to me last night--" Again, her sister blinked and stared at her in confusion, making Angie suddenly doubt both her convictions and her memories. "--you telling me I couldn't wear panties this morning and telling me I'd get spanked if I did anything you didn't like--" Now her sister's eyes really did pop open in shock. "--and what you forced me to do to you in the bathroom today . . ." Her voice trailed off as her mind finally accepted the truth on her sister's face. "I really got it wrong, didn't I?" Tears built in her eyes and humiliation in her heart. Jamie stared up at her beseechingly, making Angie realize her little sister was just as powerless as ever against her, in her desperate struggling unable even to dislodged the hand over her mouth. Beginning to weep her own scalding tears, Angie lifted her hand as the first tears dripped from her cheeks onto her sister's face. "Whatever it is, whatever horrible thing it was you were thinking about me," Jamie reassured her in a whisper. "I still love you and I still want to have your baby." Laughing, sobbing, hiccuping, and giggling all at the same time, Angie lowered her head and claimed her sister's nine-year old mouth, assuring her as well as her eleven year old mouth was able, that all was fine in the world of Angie and Jamie Claiborne. And she wished fervently that God would put it in her power to grant her sister's wish.
Epilogue: "You are such a bitch!" Angie complained bitterly. Laughing, Jamie ran her hand over the severely reddened but still creamy skin of her sister's behind and patted it lightly. "If you want another hundred, Sis, that's fine with me. I could spank you all night long." Knowing better than to say it aloud, Angie grumbled under her breath. Bad enough to be upended so unexpectedly, to have her panties yanked down and her skirt yanked up, to submit to this punishment without recourse, not even knowing what the punishment was for, to have her wrists clutched in her sister's powerful left hand while the right meted out punishment with practiced ease, but to have it delivered to her on this of all days! "Wait at minute!" she gasped in horror. "You're spanking me for my birthday?" Jamie broke into ribald laughter. She released her sister's hands and placed her forearms over the twenty-one year old's lower back and buttocks and laughed and laughed, using Angie for support as Angie stewed, definitely not entertained by the irony. "You could have been a little gentler with me!" Angie griped, gingerly rubbing her blistered cheeks. "Wouldn't twenty-one have been the appropriate number?" Jamie wiped away tears with the back of a knuckle. "It was a collective present. I gave you mine first, then Mom's, then Dad's, then Claire's--" "Claire's!" her sister interrupted. Claire was their ten-year old sister, and so not privy to anything in this conversation. "Yes, Claire's," Jamie continued unhurriedly. "And I rounded out to a hundred for leaving the iron on this morning. "I did not!" Angie cried indignantly, though on reflection she couldn't remember unplugging the cord and looping it loosely atop the board as she did most mornings. An infraction like that would normally get her twenty good wallops with the paddle anyway. It appeared she'd skated somewhat with just sixteen. Happy Birthday! she thought wryly. "Can I get up now?" she inquired. She really had to go pee. Lying across her sister's thigh did nothing for the urgency. Jamie sighed. "I guess so. I guess I can spank you only so much on your birthday." Raising her arms, she let the bare- and red-bottomed Angie get off her lap. She didn't look happy about it, Angie thought. She decided to get away before Jamie changed her mind and went for the second hundred after all. She had called Jamie a bitch. In the bathroom, panties still at half-mast, Angie inspected her rear end's reflection in the mirror. She scowled at the consistently red blush across her butt cheeks. In the three years since moving out of the house and taking the apartment together, Jamie had proven herself a master of the paddle-art. The paddle, and every other implement she chose to blister Angie's ass. Including her bare hand. Some weeks, Angie's rear end never lost its redness. Judging from the redness now, it would be a long day at work tomorrow. "You have such a pretty behind," Jamie commented. Startled, Angie caught her sister's reflection in the mirror, leaning against the doorjamb. She stood with arms crossed beneath her small breasts, ankles crossed, perfectly calm and smiling vaguely. She wore the tight gray tank top and skintight gym shorts from her workout. Recent exercise made the muscles in her biceps and forearms stand out, and her bulging thigh muscles were plainly visible through the fabric of her shorts. Her calves looked like corded wood, Angie thought. She knew that pulling up her sister's tank top would display washboard abs to kill for. No wonder the eighteen year old could handle her so easily. She was Mrs. Arnold Schwarzenegger. "Did you change your mind?" Angie asked anxiously. Caution made her take a step backward. Though her grin widened, Jamie shook her head. "Just wanted to look at you, older sister." Sure, Angie thought sourly. Rub it in. Ever since Jamie had taken up gymnastics at fourteen, and then track and field and girl's soccer, the larger, older, less-physically coordinated Angie had become the younger girl's personal sex toy. Not that Angie minded. Long before their first night together in the apartment, it was apparent who was the dominant one between them and she was just grateful that Jamie was loving most of the time and not a dominatrix. But boy, she sure liked to spank. Hesitantly, still unsure of her sister's state of mind, Angie hobbled across the bathroom and moved within inches of her sibling. Her posture was submissive and her expression guardedly hopeful. She relaxed as the smile on her sister's lips spread to show her teeth. Her lips opened and as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back and moved forward to be kissed, a hand stole down her abdomen and into her panties to claimed its prize. Happy Birthday! she thought happily, being lowered to the floor. It was a very good birthday present, indeed. THE END |