Little Stoned Whore

It’s beyond me how some one as petite as my little sister could find clothes that were so form fitting, much less that she was wearing them at home while alone in her bed room, but I will never forget that evening, or any evening thereafter.
Her music was blaring through the walls, while I was trying to take a nap, no less. So, after growing tired of hearing the same Red Hot Chili Peppers song played over and over, I knocked on her door. It was ajar, and I quickly realized that she couldn’t hear me knocking, no matter how forcefully I did so. I walked in. Though I don’t like doing so most of the time, I didn’t feel I had a choice in this situation. My head was killing me. I could smell the weed and I was out, so I was hoping, at least, she would let me take a hit or two.
She looked up a bit startled, surely thinking that our mother had arrived home and had walked in on her smoking. She was slouched in bed, wearing a tight white tank top that clung to her 34a sized breasts, and a pair of horizontally striped rainbow panties, that clung to her hips and right against her mound, but no apparent cameltoe. She had her thighs pressed together and quickly put the bong down next to the bed.
“Hey, Hannah, let me have a hit of that.”
“I just killed it.”
“Well pack up another one, and put some pants on, and turn your fuckin’ stereo down.”
“I don’t have to put pants on, I’m in my room, and you shouldn’t walk in here like this. No, you’re not allowed to smoke MY pot.”
“Well, I can always tell Mom that your boyfriend just left ten minutes ago, and that your other boyfriend left an hour before that, and that two of my friends were leaving just as I got home another hour and a half before that.”
She huffed and patted beside her on the mattress, scooting over to one side as I sat down and she packed another hit, immediately handing it over. I took a big drag and held it in, passing it back to her as I pressed against the headboard. Blowing it out, I kept my eyes closed and blew it out slowly.
“Damn. Headache?” she said, poking my side.
“You got it.” as I opened my eyes.
She smiled when I looked over at her, she sat the bong back down by the side of the bed. “Pretty good stuff, isn’t it?”
“Definitely. I only need that one. How much did you smoke?”
“I packed it twice…all the way.”
“Damn, why?”
“Honestly, it makes me horny as hell. I’ve been fucking all day. But you knew that, already.” she stuck her tongue out at me, taunting.
“Yeah, I heard some of it, too. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” sarcasm, but I was used to that from her.
“Well at least one of us is getting laid. My girl dumped me, I guess it was for the best, anyway.”
“Probably, she was a fucking bitch to you.”
“She was on birth control and still made me use a condom.”
“WHY!?” she exclaimed, “fuck condoms, I never make some one use them. I like being filled up.”
“…gross.”
“No, it’s fucking hot! And there was too much of a hesitation, there, bro.”
“I would’ve liked to, admittedly.”
She stretched out, being five-foot-four with shoulder length brown hair and dark eyes, and weighing about 130 pounds.