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WARNING: This story may depict sexual activity of fictional beings, solo, or between men and women, or women and women, or men and men, of various ages, which may be above, or below, the age of consent, in one or another real-world polity. Or something like that. If that freaks you out, or violates some law that applies to you or your computer, please don't read it.
Wow Thanks (MFf, exhib, voy, inc, cons) by autoeroticrobot
Chapter 19. Reminiscences.
We had been sitting quietly for only a few moments, when Lissa reappeared from the den. She took in the tableau of her mom and me sitting there, so close together and side-by-side, and showed some evident satisfaction on her face.
"What's up, hun?" Denise asked.
Lissa shrugged, but then quickly took a seat across the table from us and leaned forward with another conspiratorial grin on her face.
"I forgot that I have to give you your little task for this hour, too," she said to her mom, almost giggling.
Denise looked a little embarrassed, glanced sideways at me and back to her daughter. "Um, ok?" she prompted.
"So, I think you should do it, right here at the table," Lissa commanded, with a triumphant tone.
"With Jason sitting right here?" Denise asked, whether with real or feigned panic, I couldn't quite tell. Perhaps a cognitively dissonant combination of both?
Lissa's grin widened. "Of course, mom. He can sit across from you, like where I am... he won't see anything..."
Denise glanced, involuntarily, at her own lap, and across at her daughter. Swallowed, slightly nervously. I thought, after what she'd made me do, standing at the counter in the kitchen, there was some justice to this request of Lissa's. Almost as if Lissa knew, and was assisting. Hmm.
"... as long as you're careful, of course," Lissa concluded, her expression turning serious again. And added - unnecessarily reminding us all of how things had been progressing - "Trust me, I did it just the other day sitting across from Jason just like this, and it went just FINE." She then grinned widely.
And with that, and without looking back, she got up and returned to join her friend Marie in the den.
So as to prevent further argument, I immediately stood and moved to the seat directly across from my sister at the table, and met her gaze challengingly. With a bit of a grimace of combined annoyance and mischievousness, Denise allowed her hands to disappear under the rim of the table and I avidly noted the wiggling of her upper arm and elbow as she worked loose the button of her jeans, and then clearly heard zipper go down in the near silence that reigned. It was very intense, with our eyes in almost locked contact, and not a word exchanged.
A minute or two into her "five minutes," Denise began to talk, unbidden: "you know, it's weird, this isn't the first time I've done this."
I raised an eyebrow in surprise, but let her keep talking, not wanting to break the spell.
"I think it was the first year I went away to college, but I was home, visiting like over Christmas break maybe - I don't recall exactly. But you were just turned fourteen. And my old friend Mikaela was over, I think."
I remembered Mikaela. I'd reached a point where I was definitely aware of and fascinated by girls. But Mikaela had always been an "older woman" - at all of 18 or 19, I realize, but at the time she was as unattainable, as inconceivable, as a playboy model. But she'd been quite attractive, in a slightly plump, bubbly, blond suburban kind of way. A good contrastive match to my sister's somewhat contrived "African warrior princess" image of the same period.
Denise continued, "she and I used to give each other these outrageous dares - I think that's how I first got turned on to the idea of having tasks, and this almost-getting-caught games-playing stuff you've resurrected for me. But you must appreciate the irony that you were present right at the start, too.
"Mikaela had dared me to touch myself somewhere in the house where other people were. She was around - maybe she was in my room, I don't remember - she wasn't in the dining room. So we were on the honor system, even then, just like it's been with Finn. I mean, with you. Heh.
"But you were there, sitting at the dining room table. Eating breakfast or something. I'd been up for a while. I came out, in sweats or something loose like that, and plopped down across from you. I know you'll think I'm making this up, but really, I did it. Not like now, not like edging myself, teasing my little clit like I am now...."
I was aware my mouth had dropped open slightly, as I witnessed my sister's surrender to the intense sexual feelings she was provoking in herself, beheld her raunchy, horny soul as the layers of inhibition were peeled away by the strength of her excitement. My own arousal was, eh, immense.
"But I let my hand make contact. You know, touched myself a little bit. Felt my dampness. It was just a hint compared to where I am now. But it was so exciting. So daring, so naughty... I don't know what."
I nodded stupidly, and realized that the five minutes had flown. Denise saw my eyes flick toward the clock, and joined them, and I saw the rhythmic motion of her right should cease. She let out a long, languid sigh, and licked her full lips in open flirtation.
"God," she almost moaned.
My voice was barely functional, and in a hoarse whisper I asked, "are you going to be able to handle this?"
"Shit, yeah," she agreed. "It's almost painful, not being able to cum - but I wouldn't change a thing."
We sat and stared at each other.