The Girls Who Shared a Bed

“Are you awake,” I whispered.

She didn’t respond. She lay motionless beneath the covers. She lay on her side facing me, and she cuddled a pillow. I could tell, though, by the street light outside that her eyes were closed.

I slid my fingers under my panties and guided them through my pubic hair. Cautiously, I inserted two fingers inside of my pussy. The flesh was warm and moist around them. I wiggled them around slowly, fearing that I’d wake my sleeping sister if I moved too quickly. I closed my eyes and imagined the boy that sat next to be in math class: his cute face, perfect hair, and appealing figure. I envisioned him naked jerking his erect dick.

Slowly, imitating a cock, I slid my fingers back and forth. My mind, however, lost focus. My thoughts bounced between that cute boy and my sister who lay beside me. Curiously, I wondered if she could hear me, if she could feel my moving, or what she would think if she knew what I was secretly doing under the blanket. A tiny part of my mind wanted me to fondle myself so loudly that I would wake her, so that she would see how lonely I was. Still, though, I was afraid to be noisy.

My mind shifted back to the boy; I pictured his cumming onto his stomach. I imagined what he might to with his jizz once he finished, and whether or not he thought of me while he played with himself. Still, though, I was distracted. An image of my sister invaded my thoughts. I pictured her masturbating on the toilet seat in the bathroom.

As I brought myself closer to orgasm, I discarded the boy and imagined my naked sister, and I became less concerned about how much racket I was making: I could hear my fingers squishing in my lubricated pussy, and I could hear my loud breathing, and I could feel the bed and blanket rocking as I was no longer keeping my legs still. Yet, I was confident that my sister was still sleeping.

I came, and my contracting pussy sucked on my fingers as I orgasmed. I covered my mouth with my other hand lest I make any unintentional noises. My legs tightly closed, and my head jerked forward. The orgasm struck every fiber in my body.

I brought my fingers to my nose and sniffed them. I wrinkled my face at the odor; I wiped the gunk on my pajamas and turned onto my side. My sister had not moved. I pondered how horrible of a person I was for touching myself, and how worse I was for thinking of my sister while I was doing it. As my breathing returned to normal, I pulled up my panties and fell asleep.

We lived in a small, one-story, two-bedroom house. My parents, of course, slept in the master bedroom while Grace and I shared a room. Even our room was small; we shared a queen-size bed, and on either side of the bed there wasn’t much room to walk around.

Grace was only ten months older than me. We were raised to be Catholic, and my parents followed a strict, literal understanding of the teachings of the church. Therefore, my family never discussed sexuality, and Grace and I were not permitted to go to friends’ houses unless we could prove that our friends were equally as pious as my parents. My parents didn’t believe that my sister and I needed privacy either. Our room had a door that did not lock. I didn’t particularly care for my parents’ constricting and inhibitive beliefs, and I sometimes wished that their views were more relaxed.

Despite my parents beating the immorality and wrongfulness of sexuality into my mind, I couldn’t help having lustful thoughts. Naturally, I was attracted to guys, but recently, I had been having erotic thoughts about girls, especially my sister. I hated that I was experiencing those thoughts, but I could not control them. My parents’ beliefs made me fear disclosure of such sexual ideas, and I never dared to tell anyone.

Grace tempted others with her beauty. She never purposefully flaunted her body, but she was one of those girls who was sexy no matter what she wore. Her frame was perfect, and her medium-size breasts filled her clothes nicely. Her height was average, five feet and six inches. She was athletic: she ran track for school and played softball in her spare time. Being sisters, I looked similar to her in figure and stance, but we varied greatly, and our faces were composed differently.

The next morning, I woke up before Grace. The sun lit the room, and the air was silent aside from the morning birds singing. Grace lay on her back; the blankets covered everything below her belly button. Her nipples stood erect, poking through the silk fabric of her thin nightgown. Her brown hair, confused and tangled by her sleep, wrapped from the back of her head onto her neck and upper chest. Her arms lay stationary beside her. Her breasts rose as her lungs filled with air. Then her chest collapsed as she exhaled. Devilishly, I carefully tugged the blanket to her knees. Her nightgown, like a dress or skirt, had an opening at the bottom, and she had tossed during the night so much that the gown was bunched up around her waist. As normal, she wore no underwear. Her hairy pussy was exposed to the room, and her legs were spread. I had seen her pussy before, but I was still fascinated. I moved closer to examine it. Her slit was pink where the lips met. I wanted so badly to touch it, but I didn’t dare.