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From: "Bradley Stoke" <bradley_stoke@hushmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Good Example (Bradley Stoke) (ff)
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Date: Mon, 05 Feb 2007 17:10:02 -0500
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{ASSM} The Good Example (Bradley Stoke) (ff)

Title: The Good Example
Author: Bradley Stoke
Keywords: ff
Short Summary: Karen is reunited with her sister



Story: The Good Example (5,942 words)

Karen hasn't seen her sister in many years and she is both
shocked and excited by what she has become. Po is now a girl
with little understanding of normal standards of decency.
But Karen is determined to be a good example to her wayward
sister.


For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www


The Good Example
================

Karen was an unhappy girl. Why did she feel so different to
everyone else? Maybe it wasn't obvious that she was different.
She wasn't disabled, she didn't belong to an ethnic minority, she
wasn't especially tall, short, fat or thin, and she was sure that
she quite liked boys. Well, perhaps she liked them more as
friends than as anything else, but she did feel more at ease in
the company of boys than she did with the girls in her class.

Perhaps this was what made Karen sure that she was
somehow different to the other girls in her school. Why she just
never had that feeling of belonging, of being part of the team,
or, even, and this really hurt, having a best friend like so many
of the other girls had. Sure, she'd once had a best friend. That
was Lucy, the tubby girl with glasses who was now spending all
her time with Liz. But not with her! Ever since they had that
argument over that hairbrush, and she even forgot why it
happened, Karen no longer had a best friend.

But then most girls were stupid. Well, they had to be. Putting all
that make-up on! Pushing up their tiny breasts to try and make
them look bigger! Trying to look like some kind of magazine
model or like one of the singers in the girl groups they liked.
And for what? For boys who just didn't care anyway. They
were more fun just as friends. Okay, you couldn't have a boy
as a best friend exactly. Then he would be a boyfriend. And
that might mean shagging or something, and Karen wasn't sure
she was ready for that.

She enjoyed snogging. That was fun! That day in the woods
when she snogged with Alex, Jim and Dave. And then, when
they later met Pete, why! she snogged with him as well. And
Jim even got to cop a feel of her tits. They weren't big tits by
any stretch of the imagination, - just bumps on her chest with
the nipples not really as distinct from the areola as she was sure
they should be, - but it felt nice when Jim ran his fingers round
and round them, while his tongue did battle with hers. And all
the while, Alex and Dave were crying "It's my turn!" and "Hurry
up!"

But girls? They weren't like boys at all, though there was
something about them that made Karen feel very strange. It
gave her a very weird feeling altogether. That time when she
accidentally brushed against Emily's bare breast in the changing
room after hockey. Although Emily just pushed her hand off
and made no comment, the memory of that sensation persisted
for hours afterwards. And why did she feel so much short of
breath at the time? And did she really blush? Emily wasn't even
the prettiest girl at school. She was a bit skinny and wore a
brace to keep her teeth in place. But after that brief accidental
encounter, Karen felt distinctly hot and flushed whenever she
was near the girl.

She was troubled about her unfocused emotions. She stared at
the bowl of macaroni cheese that her mother had scooped up
for her, wondering whether perhaps the way she was different
wasn't because she had some secret super-powers like the
heroes in the television cartoons she liked to watch, but
because she was queer. Maybe she was some kind of girl who
fancied girls. But that couldn't be! After all, she enjoyed
snogging boys, didn't she?

"Karen," her mother spoke to her, more as a command for
attention than anything else.

"What?"

Karen's father frowned, but he didn't say his usual bit about her
not being so rude. Karen's heart thumped in her chest. Maybe
her mother was going to say something important for a change.

"It's about your sister, Po?"

"Po?"

"Or Pauline," remarked Karen's father, who'd always disliked
the abbreviation.

"Yes, Po. When did you last see her, Karen?"

"Ooh, years ago! When I was, I dunno, ten or eleven or
something."

"Yes, that's about right, Karen. About four years ago."

Karen's mother paused and regarded her husband with a
slightly worried gaze. Karen could see that she wanted to
stretch out her hand and grasp hers, but was anxious about
how her daughter might react.

Her mother coughed awkwardly. "Po's coming back to live
here, Karen. She was taken to a hospital in Islington where
they identified her. It's been four years since she ran away?"

"Four years and three months," her father elaborated bitterly.

"And Po was younger than you when she ran off. And you
know how worried we'd been, Karen dear. We loved her
despite her being such a tearaway?"

"All that drinking and smoking and goodness knows what!" her
father elaborated.

"But she's still alive. She's had a fairly rough time we think.
She's been taking drugs and seeing strange men and living in the
most squalid places and she looks such a wreck?" Karen's
mother paused, and her daughter rather uncomfortably noticed
that her mother was actually crying. A tear had trailed down
from an eye to her chin, and shone in the early evening
sunshine.

"It's a difficult decision to make," continued Karen's father.
"She's not been very well looked after at all. No school. No
proper education. Not even a hint of good manners or good
behaviour about her. I hesitated? I mean, we hesitated?
about having her here, seeing as she could be such a bad
example to you?"

"But she is our daughter!" smiled Karen's mother, with a sad
smile. "We love her, however bad or dissolute she might be. In
any case, maybe it'll be the other way. Maybe, you'll be the
good example for our older daughter. So, what do you think,
Karen dear? Soon, you won't be the only one in the house
besides your father and me."

Karen was wary, but delighted. She'd always thought highly of
Po. She'd been so much fun as an older sister, all those years
ago. She remembered the stories Po told her about boys and
how she used to kiss and gobble their penises. She said it was
called 'sucking', but you didn't do any sucking at all. She
remembered those cigarettes Po shared with her. And that time
Po let her drink some beer, which made her feel really funny for
hours afterwards.

"Yeah!" she said. "That sounds cool."

"'Cool'?" sniffed her father.

"Not now, dear!" said Karen's mother impatiently. "Now, Po's
been pretty ill. In fact, she almost died. It's something to do
with the drugs she took. I think she took heroin and cocaine
and some other drugs with funny initials like GBH, the doctor
said. She was in a coma when the police found her in an
alleyway just north of Finsbury Park tube station. Her clothes
were in a very poor state and she had some nasty sores. She
had some other health problems, related to sexual diseases?"

"But not AIDS," Karen's father interjected angrily. "How she
missed that one I don't know! She got other ones though. Fine
if they're treated, but left to fester?"

"Well, dear," Karen's mother interrupted. "What's done is
done! Po's alive. She could have died! After all the worrying
over the last four years or more of where she had got to?"

"And all along, she was living less than five miles away! She
could have easily contacted us!"

Karen could see her father was bitter about this, but she was
more focused on the fact that Po was coming back. That would
be so much fun! Perhaps all she'd been missing was her older
sister. She'd seen all those movies and television programmes
where people had lost their older brothers or sisters, and when
they came back, everything was wonderful again. And from
what she remembered in the movies, wasn't all that time when
your brother or sister was missing meant to be traumatic?
Maybe that explained why she felt different from other girls.
And now that Po was coming back, perhaps now she too
would go through that magical transformation. She too would
be happy and contented with her beautiful older sister. They
could do sisterly type things together. Karen wasn't sure what it
was that sisters did together, but she was certain that whatever
it was, it must be good and wholesome and gratifying.

However, whatever image she had in her mind of what Po
might look like - based on the prodigal daughters of children's
television drama - did not prepare Karen for the real thing.

Po was much older than she'd imagined, having aged rather
more than the elapsed four years since they'd last met. She was
very gaunt, her red hair was straggly and uncombed, and
although the clothes she wore were just an unremarkable pair
of jeans and a tee-shirt, with that ring through her nose and the
stud in her tongue, she might as well have been dressed in
archetypal punk leather and tartan as far as Karen's father was
concerned.

However, Karen noticed that he made no comment about this.
Nor did he comment on her smoking, which she had evidently
been doing for quite a while before Karen came back from
school, judging by the stubbed filters in the ashtray and the
pervasive smoke in the living room. And he also made no
criticism when she swore, which she did frequently and with
neither any sense of embarrassment nor even a hint that she
was being intentionally provocative.

"Yeah, the cunt deserved what he got!" Po was exclaiming as
Karen entered the room. "Fucking arsehole! I'd have ripped his
other eye out if I'd the chance after the way he'd fucking raped
me that time? And shit! Who's this little girlie?"

"It's your sister, Pauline," said Karen's father in a quietly
restrained voice.

"Karen! Fuck me! She's fucking grown, ain't she? How're you,
sis? You got a boyfriend yet?"

Karen shook her head. This wasn't quite the first thing she'd
expected her long lost sister to ask her.

"Girlfriend then? You a les, then?"

 Karen shook her head more adamantly and blushed, but
secretly feeling pleased that her sister could be so open about
something which had troubled her so much.

"Well! What's fucking wrong with you, sis? Here, have a fag!"

"Karen doesn't smoke, Pauline," said her father firmly.

"She doesn't? Well, good for you, girl! Nicotine's fucking
poison, it is! I'd give it up tomorrow if I could! But when you're
coming down, you know, from where I've been, I need every
fucking prop I can get hold of."

With that, she opened up the packet of cigarettes, placed one
in her mouth and lit it, while Karen's father pretended not to
notice and her mother smiled ineffectually.

Karen didn't get much chance to actually say anything at all to
her prodigal sister all evening. It was Po who did most of the
talking, pausing mostly just to light cigarettes and take swigs
from the cans of lager, the fetching of which from the
refrigerator in the kitchen were almost the only times she
deserted the huge sofa that had somehow become hers.
Karen's mother and father sat around politely, occasionally
emptying the ashtray or flicking ash off the furniture where it
settled, while Po talked and talked and talked.

For Karen, it sounded very exciting indeed, though her parents
were quite obviously appalled. Po had done everything, it
seemed. She'd hung around with like real gangsters who'd fuck
you up soon's they saw you. She'd done a stint of prostitution
at King's Cross, till she figured that streetwalking was for mugs
when all you needed to do was place a card in a phone booth.
She'd done a bit of dealing, soft stuff mostly, but she'd
graduated to H. Bit more lucrative, but not as much fun as
selling E at night clubs. But lately, it had all got fucking out of
hand. The smack had fucking done her in. She'd thought she'd
be able to handle it. After all, her best mate, Griz, she'd been
fucking mainlining since she was fifteen, and she was like,
fucking twenty three now. Fucking ancient. And she was
alright. She'd managed to handle it. So why couldn't Po?

"You couldn't though, could you dear?" interceded Karen's
mother before her father could say something rather less tactful.

"No. I guess not! But it was fucking great for a while. I felt real
cool. And with what I made from flogging the gear and the bit
of extra from the punters, I was fucking rich, I can tell you. I
could fucking afford everything!"

After a few days, Karen was able to spend more time with Po
without her parents accompanying her. In fact, it was obvious
that they were thoroughly exhausted from the effort of such
chaperoning. Her father now spent most of the evening
watching television in the living room, while her mother sat in
the kitchen.

Po mostly stayed in her bedroom which had been reserved for
her since she'd run away all those years ago. Karen liked to sit
with her sister in her room, watching her puff away at her
ciggies, swig at her lager, and, bolder now, toke off her thin
single-skin spliffs. It was Po who did most of the talking, lying
stretched out on her bed, flattening the duvet, while Karen sat
there on the armchair. And what things Po talked about! As
Karen got to realise, there was a fucking big world out there
and a girl had to have her fucking wits about her to survive.

There was something a little incongruous about the setting
though. As Po let forth about the things she'd done or heard
about, which were of a distinctly adult nature, expressed in
suitably adult language, the bedroom remained that of a girl in
her early teens, and Po showed no interest at all in updating the
d,cor. There were the posters of the boy bands she'd once
enjoyed, the stacked-up CDs were compilations of dated
juvenile dance music and the duvet still displayed a mosaic of
friendly ponies and gruff looking teddy bears. But Po just didn't
seem to notice much about her surroundings.

She once put on a CD that Karen brought in of some fairly
weird techno that she thought her sister might like, but although
Po made some appreciative noises, Karen could see she wasn't
paying it any real attention.

But it was Karen who was learning the most. There were some
pretty kinky people out there, men and women, who did the
weirdest things. And there was a lot of violence, a lot of drugs,
a lot of money to be made, and so much much more which
made Karen's own fears, about her uncertain feelings towards
girls and the fact she preferred being with boys, appear pretty
boring really. Karen so wanted to tell Po about her life, but it
would just sound so pathetic and boring compared to her
sister's really cool life.

"I'm glad you spend so much time talking to Po," said Karen's
mother one day as she was preparing to go to school. "I'm sure
it does her a lot of good to talk to someone."

"Yes, Karen," agreed her father, who looked up over the front
page of his Daily Telegraph. "I'm sorry your sister talks in such
disgusting language, but your mother and I think it must be
good for her to be able to talk to someone who doesn't take
drugs or do any of the other disgusting things she used to do."

Karen nodded, but secretly she rather envied Po for her much
more exciting past. And she also knew that though her sister
wasn't taking heroin any more, she was dabbling in a few other
drugs, mostly cannabis, but occasionally cocaine and sulphate.
But the drugs weren't what Karen found most interesting about
Po's life. It was the sex. And her sister expressed no sense of
embarrassment at all as she talked about all the various sexual
encounters she'd had, with men, women, groups of men,
indeed, whole orgies!

However, although Karen's parents liked the notion that their
older daughter was now, in a sense, a reformed woman, it must
have come as a shock to them both when, one evening, having
both returned from their different places of work, they arrived
home to a kitchen where Po was sitting quite nonchalantly on
the stool with no clothes at all, smoking a cigarette and
occasionally biting into some chocolate sandwiches she'd
prepared. And as Karen was soon to find out there was
something rather shockingly blatant about Po's nudity. Her
body was unmistakably that of a teenage girl, with a full brush
of hair around her vagina, but the folds of her vulva fell right out
and were visible to all unless she chose to cross her legs. And
although her breasts were not very full, and she no longer wore
the rings through her nipples that she apparently once used to,
hers were still a bosom that Karen's father found difficult to
look toward without embarrassment.

"I'm just fucking pissed off with wearing clothes, that's all!" Po
explained it to Karen, when her sister visited in her room after
some very anxious words of advice from her parents. "They
fucking itch! And anyway if I don't want to wear clothes when
I'm in my own home, why the fuck should I?"

Karen nodded, but rather inappropriate feelings distracted her
as she regarded her sister's naked body. She'd seen naked
female bodies before. How could any girl who played sports,
and was even in the school girls' soccer team, not get used to
seeing naked girls? But there was a difference somehow
between the girls crowded into the shower with their puppy fat
disappearing and their breasts not yet fully grown and a girl like
Po whom Karen knew so well had a sexual character and was
not ashamed to flaunt it.

However, the fact of Po's habitual nudity had the consequence
that neither of her parents now felt at all comfortable being with
her. They'd already long since ceased to invite their friends
home, and whenever an opportunity came for either Karen's
father or mother to see a friend, this was invariably done at the
friends' address or at some neutral territory.

Indeed, Po had the house to herself during the day. Karen was
at school. Her parents were at work. And Po was still
recuperating from her drug addiction. And, except for a few
hours at a time, usually at weekends, Po was almost always at
home. And when she was at home, she was almost always in
her room, sometimes with the television on, sometimes playing
computer games on an old PlayStation and sometimes just
browsing through magazines she'd bought at the newsagents.
Karen got to believe this was how it should be, forgetting
totally that in her life before rehabilitation, she must have had
friends and accomplices in the whirl of her exciting and sordid
social life.

And the fact of this was made pretty much apparent to her,
when one evening she pushed open the bedroom door through
which she could hear an old Chemical Brothers CD blaring out
and was confronted with a rather startling sight.

Karen was pretty much accustomed to seeing her sister in the
nude now, although the thought of it still made her feel quite
giddy and strangely hot when she lay in her own bed sinking to
sleep. But here her sister was not just naked herself but with a
naked man, whose buttocks were sinking and rising with an
unmistakable rhythm, while Po's legs were straddled around his
skinny back.

"Fuck, Karen! You coming in to watch?"

Karen shook her head. A broad blush burned her cheeks.

"Well, sis, you either fucking stay and join in. Or you fuck off!"

And with that Po ignored her humiliated sister while grunting
and gasping to her friend's coital thrusts. Karen retreated to her
room, still hearing the guttural sound of Po's sexual intercourse,
the louder and more clearly when the Chemical Brothers CD
came to its end. She intended to read up for her History
assignment, but instead found herself masturbating madly at the
image of her sister having sex, imagining against the brightly
coloured wallpaper of her bedroom wall her sister's vagina
being repeatedly thrust and thrust again by the penis of which
she had actually only caught a glimpse, but the associated
testicles she remembered only too well as they flopped to the
same rhythm as Po's short sharp breaths.

What surprised Karen was that as Po's behaviour became
steadily bolder in the home, her parents became ever more
resigned and more tolerant towards her. Even when Po started
smoking smack again and leaving traces of tin foil in the
bathroom waste bin, all that was said was that Karen shouldn't
touch them. And it was Karen's father who was the most
tolerant. Despite his daughter's dreadful language and her
sometimes smoking dope in the living room. And one day,
Karen was sure she saw Po place a hand on her father's lap,
surely higher up than it was decent to be, which was then
politely removed by her father, anxiously regarding his wife
whose back was turned at that moment.

"I think it was a mistake letting Po come back here," confided
Karen's mother to her one evening, while Po could be heard in
full flow with a male friend in the adjacent bedroom. "She's
clearly got no interest in reforming her character. I know you've
tried to be a good example to her?"

Karen nodded her head. "I've tried talking to her, but she
doesn't listen." That was totally true. Karen wasn't sure that in
all the months since Po had returned, she'd ever actually
listened to a word Karen had ever said, although Karen had
listened to everything Po said with incredible attention.

"It's strained things between your father and me, too, Karen
dear," her mother continued. "Your father? It's difficult? I
don't think?"

And then her mother burst into tears and for the first time in her
life, it was Karen who had to comfort her mother whose head
was laid on Karen's lap and whose tears soaked Karen's jeans
with a sweet salty puddle of misery. All the while, her mother
talked about Po and her father, but Karen wasn't sure she
understood their import as the remarks were so disjointed and
incomplete.

And then she suddenly lifted herself up, her face a mask of
unhappiness, and said to her daughter: "It may only be
suspicion on my part as to who it may be, but I know that it's
someone! And whatever your father might say, we can't both
live under the same roof!"

She then lowered her head back on her daughter's lap,
moaning softly and sadly, while Karen stroked her mother's
slightly greying bush of hair. And all the while, there was a
thump thump thump of Po's bedstead against the wall and her
own uninhibited screams of sexual passion in an approximate
synchrony to that same thump.

And so it was, and with remarkably little argument, Karen's
father chose to leave home and live in a small flat he had
managed to rent nearby. He bade his family goodbye, but
Karen noticed that no mention was made of either she or her
sister ever visiting him at any time unaccompanied by her
mother. And, in fact, her father made no comments that
suggested he expected it to be any other way.

As Karen's father drove off in his company Mondeo with his
luggage in the boot and on the back seat, her mother remarked:
"Of course, I can't be sure dear. Your father wouldn't bring
himself to answer the question. Or, in truth, I couldn't bring
myself to ask him. But it's for the best for you, dear. We've got
one incurable casualty in the house. We don't need you to
become one, too!"

Karen wasn't sure what her mother was quite getting at, but it
was noticeable that Po was nowhere to be seen while she and
her mother watched her father load his bags, although maybe
that was her naked silhouette against the lace curtains of her
bedroom looking down as her father drove off. Or maybe it
was just some other shadow across the window. After all, Po
generally didn't seem to care about anything at all these days.
However momentous. In fact, if war was declared, Karen
fancied that all her sister might be bothered about was whether
it might interrupt her supply of stash.

"'S'at you, Al?" Po slurred, when Karen knocked politely on
her door a few days later.

"No, it's me, Karen," her sister said, easing the door behind
her. She wasn't sure who Al was. As far as Karen knew, Po's
boyfriend was called Mick, although the boy who came round
to visit a few weeks' back and vomited in the toilet bowl might
have been called 'Al'. Although Karen was under the distinct
impression that his name was actually Ian. "I just thought I'd
come and see how you are."

Po nodded her head. "Fucking pissed off is what I am," she
said, and then lapsed again into the habitual moody silence that
was the only other state she was in these days, when she wasn't
sleeping, fucking or talking. Karen preferred it when Po was
talkative than when she was silent, although it was only quite
recently her sister had ever been like that. On these occasions,
Karen would just sit there watching her sister lie on the bed,
her naked legs stretched out, her nipples covered with cigarette
ash, while all Po would do was stare in no particular direction,
occasionally sipping from a can of beer or puffing on a
cigarette.

"Why are you pissed off?" Karen asked.

"Thought Al was coming. Fucking need a fuck, me! 'Sall I
want! No one can deny me that, can they?"

"No," said Karen meekly, dropping her gaze towards her
clasped hands in her lap. She so wished there was some way
she could help her sister. It couldn't be easy for her, coming off
drugs. Although Karen wasn't sure Po had actually done that
good a job of it, now she was smoking more heroin than she
did when she first arrived. And these mood swings of hers,
from lethargy to hyperactivity, from sullen moody silences to
unstoppable garrulity, they were extremely unsettling, and
judging from the shouted conversation she could sometimes
hear coming from her sister's bedroom when she was
entertaining one of her boyfriends, it wasn't just Karen and her
mother who found it all very disconcerting.

Po looked Karen up and down with quite a sweet smile on her
face. This slightly alarmed her sister who was used to a rather
more disinterested expression. "Are you alright, Po?" she asked
apprehensively.

"Yeah! Sure! But you're growing up a bit now, aren't you sis?
You're not such a little girl any more, are you?"

"No, not any more," Karen admitted, a sad smile breaking
across her face. At least, Po had noticed she was there.

"Stand up, girl!" Po commanded. "Let's have a look at you."

Karen did so, pushing herself up off the armchair which after all
these months had almost moulded itself into the shape of her
bottom and pulled-up legs. Po looked her up and down, sitting
up on the bed, one knee crossed and her other leg dangling
over the edge of the mattress, a cigarette dangling from her
hand and the ash sprinkling over her lap.

"You're not a bad looking girl, are you? A bit boyish, what with
your hair being so short and all. But you're losing that like
tummy you had. And I bet your tits are coming on a bit under
your tee-shirt. Is that so? Are you getting proper girl titties
now?"

Karen nodded, feeling very self-conscious.

"Well, take off your top then! Let's see what your tits are like?"

Karen tittered with nervousness. "I can't do that! It's not right!"

"Don't be fucking wet! It doesn't fucking stop me. And anyway
I'm like your sister, aren't I? Fucking family. Let's see what
your tits are like!"

Karen's heart thumped with an urgent percussive panic, as she
nonetheless pulled the tee-shirt up and over her slim shoulders
and stood with her blue training bra on display. But not for long
after Po mimed that she should remove this mere pretence of a
cover, and revealed two breasts more like mounds than
mammaries.

"See! Nothing to be so fucking scared of! You got nice little girl
titties, haven't you? And what are you now? How old? Not
long till they'll swell out into a proper size, like mine!" Po
cupped her breasts from underneath and slightly pushed them
up, while Karen's heart pounded away furiously inside her
chest and the back of her mouth choked with a sudden swelling
of mucus. "And I bet you've got a proper little patch of hair on
your twat as well. A regular little garden of pubic hair. Let's
have a look at that as well, sis!"

"But, Po! I can't do that!"

"Fuck! You worried about Mum or something. It can't be Dad,
since he's buggered off. When's the last time Mum ever came
up to my bedroom 'cept to clear things up when I've gone out?
She's too fucking frightened of me. Come on! Take off
everything! Go fucking nude like me! It's not done me any
fucking harm, has it?"

Karen squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. At
that moment she'd almost rather be anywhere than here at the
moment. This was not what she wanted. She was supposed to
be setting a good example to her sister, but instead Po was just
teasing her. And, anyway, Karen was embarrassed about her
body. It was such an awkward thing. Not yet properly grown
up at all! But she obeyed her sister. She couldn't see that she
had much choice. She pulled off her trainers and socks. Eased
down her jeans and with a final gesture of resignation took
down her knickers which she held in one hand while looking
over at her naked sister sprawled on the bed.

"So! What d'you have to worry about, sis?" Po asked.
"Fucking nothing, was it? Here! Come closer, so's I can look at
your darling little pussy."

Karen obeyed, a sweat breaking out on her forehead and her
knickers still dangling from one hand, stepping forward towards
Po who'd pulled herself onto the side of the bed, both legs over
the edge, and her hand stretched palm upwards towards
Karen's crotch, the hairs thickening but not nearly as thick and
wild as those on full display in front of her eyes on her older
sister's crotch.

Po gently stroked Karen's pubic hair with one hand, the other
hand still holding a cigarette, and with a very strange expression
on her face. "You've got a real furry pussy, sis. Real nice. I bet
it purrs too! Just like a real puss cat. Is that so?"

Po raised her eyes from gazing down at Karen's crotch and
looked her straight in the eyes.

"Is it a real friendly pussy you've got, sweetheart?"

Karen nodded her head nervously, but with a smile on her face.
It was so nice for her sister to show so much love and
affection. Perhaps this was what prodigal daughters were
supposed to be like when they returned home. Perhaps this
was the sisterly love that Karen had heard so vaunted on
children's drama programmes.

"And does your pussy bite, I wonder?" asked Po, and with a
sudden sharp prod. Karen was aware that her sister had
actually pushed her middle finger through the slightly swollen
lips of her vulva, and it was just inside her, the fingernail and as
far as the second joint inside her private place, where before
only she had ventured, with rather more timidity than Po was
demonstrating at this moment.

"I don't think it bites," was all that Karen could think of saying,
as her vision clouded in a kind of red blindness and a trail of
sweat disengaged itself from the widow's peak at the top of her
forehead and trailed down over her eyebrows.

"It mightn't bite, but it's certainly wet!" Po remarked, twisting
her finger around and around and around inside her sister's
vagina, entering Karen as deeply as her knuckle.

Karen sighed, now totally unable to express herself in any way,
shape or form that was at all more articulate. Po took her sister
totally under her control, using the wealth of her experience to
guide Karen back onto the bed and still in dazed partial
arousal, her pelvis thrusting with the rhythm orchestrated by her
fingers, and, so soon, her tongue bringing her sister to a
helpless, melting, totally abandoned state of sexual ecstasy.

When Karen finally regained her normal state of clarity and
articulacy, it was only after many hours in which she had been
at the total mercy of her sister. Had she known better, been
better experienced herself, she might soon have found that
despite Po's considerable acquaintance in matters of carnal
seduction, she was not so equally expert at maintaining the
rhythm or quality of the lovemaking. Her selfishness and her
need for sexual gratification were obstacles in building the cycle
of desire and lust to beyond a certain plateau, and only Karen's
desperate hunger for Po's flesh kept the passion from petering
out after her younger sister's first involuntary, pained and wholly
unexpected orgasm.

It was Karen, soon, who had the energy and desire to feast on
the ragged edges of Po's vagina, to nibble at the lips and circle
her tongue around the clitoris. It was Karen whose mouth
returned again and again to Po's own. It was Karen, indeed,
who sucked and suckled at Po's nipples bringing them to a
stiffness she'd forgotten they were able to attain. And it was
Karen who rested her head, her ear crushed into the fat of her
thigh, in Po's lap while her sister stroked her short hair whilst
desultorily puffing at a cigarette.

Karen raised her head slightly and gazed into her sister's eyes
as they looked down at her, her pupils still too small but
betraying a genuine flush of feeling about her face. It had been a
long time since any of her male lovers had shown her as much
affection, certainly so much unconditional affection, as her
younger sister.

"Po! What will become of us? What will Mum say? I promised
that I would try and set you a good example."

Po smiled again. She reflected that amongst all the slithery,
sweaty groping, licking and nibbling, she had felt inside her
strong emotions and sensations she'd not felt for a very long
time, and compared to which even the high of a heroin rush
was in some unquantifiable way rather less precious. In fact,
hadn't she actually experienced a genuine orgasm? Not one
she'd manufactured to fit expectations.

"Don't worry about Mum, sweetheart," Po said, twisting a short
lock of hair in her nicotine-stained fingers. "And anyway, you
have been setting me a good example. Just not in quite the way
that Mum thought you might!"

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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