Changing the rules of the happiness game (Part 2) [Str8][mf][inc][mast]

Our parents had gotten into the habit of going out many nights, leaving Lily and me to ourselves. Sometimes the two of us would even have to cook our own dinner and get ready for bed before they got back. It was on one such occasion that Lily, completely innocently, suggested that we take our evening bath together since – as she put it, practical as always – it would save water and be quicker. (The unspoken premise, I guess, was that, since going to bed together was the highlight of our day, the quicker we could get ready the better!) This of course posed a huge dilemma for me as I wouldn’t be able to relieve myself with Lily there. At the same time, though, I was intrigued, excited really, by the idea. I had to admit that, while I didn’t think of Lily in a sexual way at all, I was intrigued by the thought of finally seeing her completely nude. And I couldn’t argue with her logic. I agreed, and she went excitedly to run the bath. When it was ready, we both, somewhat ceremoniously, stripped out of our clothes. We stood there a bit awkwardly in our underwear – I think we both must have sensed the oddness of taking that final step – but finally Lily, without any further ado, pulled down her panties. I stood there almost in awe. It was only, after all, a couple extra square feet of skin at most that she’d revealed above and beyond every part of her that I’d seen, now, countless times. But it represented that final secret, the part she had never shown me, the part too that, I was confident, I was uniquely privileged to see. She posed there at the edge of the bathtub, slightly self-consciously and a little chubbily, her tummy protruding just a little bit over her vulva, which she made no attempt to conceal. It was lightly covered with blonde hair, just like my own privates. In fact I felt a strange connection between hers, that I was seeing for the first time, and my own, that I’d been paying so much attention to recently. Other than the obvious difference they seemed almost alike.

She looked at me as if to say, well, what are *you* waiting for. It’s a measure of how much my anxiety had subsided over the past few months since my “big discovery” that, while I had an erection, had had one in fact since Lily suggested bathing together – I did not feel any huge concern about her seeing it. First of all, as with me, it was probably the first time she’d seen anyone’s penis – what would she know about whether it was supposed to be hard or not? She’d certainly by accident felt it bump against her in that state, on more than one occasion, when we were cuddling, although I generally tried to avoid that happening. And she certainly must be able to tell it was hard as I stood there in my underwear, anyway. But more importantly I felt so close to her, so confident in our connection, that I just *knew* it wouldn’t matter even if she did understand the significance. I knew her, she knew me, the hard penis was a part of me, so – what, indeed, *was* I waiting for? I reached down, pulled the waistband of my briefs over my penis, and stepped out of them in one motion. When I looked up, Lily was staring with unabashed interest. I almost said something, but she spoke first: “it looks nice, Robbie.” Lily was always like this – whatever she said, in any occasion, was always the thing that was most likely to put the other person at ease. I’d noticed it with her and my parents, and even her occasional friends, but of course I’d felt it most intensely myself: she was always filling me with joy and confidence. I stammered “Th… thanks. Yours does too.” Lily smiled. “Can I touch it?”

I didn’t want her to. It felt risky, it felt irreversible — you can’t untouch something. It felt… it felt like changing the rules of the happiness game. But I couldn’t deny her anything. And again, had she not touched pretty much every part of me already? What difference could it make? I nodded silent assent, and, tentatively, she reached out and took it gently in her hand. Not cautiously probing it with her fingertips, no, right away almost encircling it with her warm hand. I shuddered involuntarily. “It feels nice, too,” Lily said. I couldn’t respond; my mind was racing, no words would come. I let her continue touching it gently for a few seconds, then made a move towards getting into the bath. She understood, let go, climbed in before me. I got in too, facing her; we sat there on opposite ends, our legs interleaved. My foot was nearly touching her vulva – I could have touched it with my toes by stretching them out a bit, but I didn’t. Lily’s leg was too short, of course, to reach my privates, a fact I was happy about. In the clear water I could see everything, but I was looking more at her upper body. Sitting there directly in front of me, her tiny breasts above the waterline, her belly button below, she presented an unforgettable sight. We sat there just looking at each other for a little while, then I said, trying to sound jocular, “Well, I guess we’d better wash up and get ready!” Lily giggled, grabbed the soap, wet it, and started sudsing her upper body all over. I considered offering to do it for her, but didn’t know how the idea would be received. Once again, though, she was well ahead of me. She dunked down into the water, washing off the soap and getting her hair wet. When she surfaced, she said “Robbie, I have a great idea. You could wash my hair!” I understood what she meant – shampooing in the bath was a bit of a pain. For my part, when I had to wash my hair I usually preferred a shower. But I didn’t know exactly how she imagined the logistics. I didn’t have to wonder for long, though. She simply stood up, turned around, and carefully sat down on my thighs. I gulped. This seemed a little risky. But, since she was waiting expectantly, I squirted some shampoo in my palm and started to massage it into her hair. She gave a little squeal of delight. “Oh, Robbie, that’s *nice*!” Encouraged, I continued massaging, unsure of when to stop. Finally she said “I’ll rinse now” and simply slid down my legs until she was able to lean back and dunk all of her hair under water. Her head was dangerously close to my privates, though of course she couldn’t see them the way she was facing and with her eyes tightly screwed shut against the shampoo. Her hair was floating over my penis. I steadied her shoulder with one hand, and with the other ran my fingers through her hair, trying to get the soap out. I couldn’t help but stare at her chest. I felt a strong urge to touch her breasts but refrained; my hands were busy anyway. Finally, she sat up, her hair dripping over my chest, and shook her head, laughing as water splashed everywhere. Then, without saying anything, she suddenly slid backwards as far as she go. I sat there in near shock as her buttocks slid neatly right over my penis. Oh, *no*, I thought.

Lily didn’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary. She leaned her head back and said “Mmmmmmm.” I assumed, hoped, she wasn’t referring specifically to feeling my erection (there was no way she wouldn’t be feeling it) but rather in general to the nice feeling of close contact. It *was* nice – with her back against my chest, I could put my chin on her shoulder so we could rub cheeks, so to speak, and my hands found a natural rest on her tummy. “Mmmmmm… Robbie…,” she murmured again. I didn’t know what to say, but I started to move my hands up and down her belly a bit. For all the close, skin-to-skin contact we’d luxuriated in over the past few months each night in bed, we hadn’t had our hands on each other’s fronts very much, a natural consequence of the way we invariably slept, front-to-front, with our arms wrapped around each other. Feeling her tummy like this was a new sensation for me – I tried to concentrate on that and ignore the *other* new sensation as best I could. Lily wasn’t helping, though. She was squirming around a little, and it was hard to ignore the movement against my hard-on. I didn’t want to ignore it, to be honest: it felt nice, and my instinct was to keep doing what felt nice, indeed, to do it more and more of it. But I was acutely conscious that this was totally new territory and, frankly, I was scared. Lily seemed comfortable now but she seemed to have no idea of what she was doing to me.

I tried to hold her waist a little to steady her, to stop her from moving around so much without actually having to say so, but she shocked me by grabbing my hands and moving them straight up to her breasts. Since they had started to grow, I’d yearned to touch them, but refrained, sensing that this would be a step too far. But here she was, literally just putting my hands there, saying louder than words: go ahead, touch them! I couldn’t refuse her. Gently, I began to stroke her chest. Her breasts, hardly more than slight swellings on her chest, were soft and pliant, but the nipples were quite stiff. As I touched them carefully, Lily sighed again and leaned her head back on my shoulder. “That feels nice, Robbie,” she whispered. I was burning up – after all we had gotten used to, this was yet again completely new and surprising. I almost couldn’t make sense of it – on the one hand, compared to what we already had been doing for ages, it wasn’t really any more intimate. On the other hand – breasts, butt, penis – these were universally-acknowledged *private* parts. This wasn’t allowed, was it? Surely this was a big change? Dammit, I didn’t want anything to change! I was already the happiest I had ever been in my life. How could we move back from this? As the thought swirled in my mind, my hand were still, almost of their own accord, massaging Lily’s chest. I could see, and hear, that she was deeply enjoying it. Her eyes were clothes, she had a deeply satisfied expression on her face, and she was breathing quickly, in a way I’d never really noticed before, and still squirming around in my lap. All of a sudden I knew trouble was coming. I’d been so absorbed in confused thought that I’d not really been in touch with what I was feeling physically. I now could tell that that familiar pressure was building up in my groin. *Oh, God, no! Not here!* I prayed, silently. It was too late. I made a futile effort to stop Lily from moving but only got a slightly hurt look on her face when I took my hands off her breasts. She opened her eyes and said, “Robbie?” I couldn’t answer. I was desperately trying to stop the unstoppable. Lily looked up at me, uncomprehending. I probably looked horrified. Suddenly I felt myself ejaculating onto her backside. It didn’t feel good at all. It felt just like defeat. Instantly, red, burning shame suffused my face. I pushed Lily forward and tried to splash bathwater on her backside, desperately hoping she wouldn’t notice anything. At least, with my habit of masturbating every evening, it wasn’t a huge amount. In fact I couldn’t really see anything myself. I forced myself to sound normal. “We should wash up, you know? And get to bed?” My voice cracked mid-sentence. Lily looked both disappointed and confused. “OK, Robbie,” she said in a small voice. I wanted to cry.

We finished washing and got out of the bath to dry off. I could see no sign of my shame in the water, thank God. On occasion I’d noticed, when I bathed myself and jerked off, that my semen would be visible as filmy scum in the warm water, but there seemed to be nothing to see but soap suds here. I didn’t know what to say to Lily. Whether she’d noticed my ejaculation or not (I was leaning towards not), my sudden discomfiture had been completely evident, and I could empathize with her: one minute she’d been leaning back, eyes closed, enjoying my touch; the next minute I’d rudely pushed her away. I felt like the scum of the earth.

Lily didn’t seem overly perturbed for long. She wasn’t the type to brood, I knew. I resolved to make it up to her once we got to bed, to act as if nothing had changed. We hung up our towels and Lily began to brush her teeth, still naked. While she did that, I went to my room and put on a fresh pair of briefs. When I heard her finish, I went back to brush my teeth. Walking out of the bathroom, I saw with a bit of a shock that she was standing, still naked, by the bed. I nearly blurted out “aren’t you going to put on panties?” but stopped myself in time. I didn’t want to hurt her by suggesting that I didn’t want to see her nude. In point of fact, I very much *did* want to see her nude, especially now that I’d recovered a bit from the “incident” and felt that I wasn’t being muddled by sexual arousal. I wanted to commit her whole naked body to memory, because I had an irrational fear that I’d never see it again. Surely everything was about to change, to go wrong. I tried not to stare too long, but clambered into bed. Even though I had said nothing about her state of total undress, it hadn’t occurred to me that Lily wouldn’t actually pull on panties but instead climb in, stark naked, next to me. I felt both shock and a frisson of excitement. Or perhaps it was more – I don’t know? Happiness. I felt happy that Lily still trusted me, that she trusted me so much that she would sleep naked next to me without a second thought, that at least I hadn’t ruined everything in the bath. I made no comment, but held out my arms to her, and she slipped into my embrace with a sigh of (it seemed to me) relief. I could feel her heart beating in the center of her small warmth, and I was filled with a sense of helplessness, paradoxically combined with protectiveness: the universe was too big and complicated, I couldn’t defend myself against it, but I would do my best to defend my sister. I pulled her close and she sighed again. We lay there for a while, then I turned out the light and began to drift towards sleep.

I was already half asleep when suddenly I snapped awake. Lily had quietly said my name. “Mmmm?” “Robbie…” she said again, and paused. “What is it, Lily?” “Could we… could we maybe…” She stopped. My heart pounded. “Could.. could *I* maybe…” She going to ask me to let her go, she was going to ask that we sleep in separate beds. I knew it. I *knew* my happiness couldn’t last. But her next words came almost even more as a shock. She blurted them out: “Couldyoumaybetouchmeagain… like.. like in the bath. I mean, you know, my.. my b…boobs. If I turned around. You know?” She sounded almost plaintive. I didn’t know what to say. Really, this was the first time, since long, long ago when she would come begging me to let her into my bed because she was scared, that she had *asked* for me to do anything. Everything had seemed to just develop naturally. It was so strange, hearing her put a desire to be touched into concrete words; of course, of course we both wanted to be touched by each other, of course – it was the central fact of our lives, wasn’t it? We’d been living this for years. But at the same time – we’d never really verbalized it. We didn’t *talk* about it, we just… were. Together.

I was thinking about it too much, I knew. Even my short hesitation, I could tell, was speaking louder than words: Lily’s words had trailed off. Time to act, not think. I disengaged from our embrace and gently pulled her shoulder, rolling her over away from the edge of the bed, first onto her front and then onto her side, moving over myself to give her room. She giggled. My butt was touching the wall; it felt oddly cold, even through my underwear. I put my arms around Lily and pulled her in tight, then rested my right hand on her breast and heard a slight gasp. I started to massage her nipple again, just as I had in the bath, and I felt it stiffening slightly under my touch. I didn’t even know that happened; I filed it away in my mind somewhere. I felt acutely aware that I *must* not disappoint Lily again, that she had, with great difficulty, specifically asked me to touch her this way, so I had to do it, and do it right. But I had no idea what doing it right meant. Just – just stay calm, I thought. She seemed at any rate to be enjoying my ministrations. She was squirming just a little, her naked butt once again rubbing against my crotch, though this time, thank God, I didn’t feel at any risk from that. My left hand was in an awkward position, with her resting on my arm, but I managed to shift it up a little and place it on her other breast. I heard her say “Mmmmm…” again and reassured myself that I must be doing something right, or at least not all wrong. We lay there like that for ages, Lily squirming around in what seemed like real pleasure as I, almost unable to believe it was happening, massaged her breasts avidly, luxuriating in the new sensation.

After a while, I became acutely conscious of Lily’s rapid, shallow, punctuated breathing – the same thing I’d heard in the bath. In the past, every time we had cuddled front-to-front, stroking each other’s backs, we’d always seemed to settle into the same rhythm of slow, relaxed breathing, usually together. In fact, I associated that with drifting off to sleep. This was different and new. Whereas before, we’d touched each other to relax into sleep, it felt like what I was doing was having the opposite effect. I wasn’t naive; I understood exactly what was happening, though I tried not to think too hard about it. Lily was aroused, excited, turned on by my touching her breasts. It was just like when I masturbated: I’d breathe faster and harder until I came. I suddenly wondered if *she* ever masturbated. I wasn’t too clear on how that would work. In one Judy Blume book, the girl rubbed herself with a washcloth. Perhaps Lily did that in the bath? As I imagined it and continued to touch her breasts, I felt myself harden again. Something in me wanted to take the initiative, press my hardness up against her naked backside as she squirmed under my touch. I didn’t think she would mind and I wasn’t worried about an “accident” so soon after the last one. But I also did not want to lose my focus on her. I settled for letting my penis, under my briefs, touch her butt lightly. With such an acutely sensitive organ there, I slowly became aware that she was rhythmically clenching her butt cheeks and squeezing her thighs together as I massaged her breasts. This went on for a while, then, finally, all of a sudden, she inhaled sharply and tensed up. Sensing this, I stopped moving my hands around and simply cupped her breasts as she slowly relaxed. There was a short pause, then: “Robbie…” “Mmmm?” “That was nice!” “I’m glad, Lil,” I said. I was. I felt suddenly absurdly grateful to the universe that I could do something so simple that had obviously made her feel good. That I had listened to her and done something that she asked for and it had given her real pleasure. She wiggled out of my arms, turned around, and settled back in again, starting to stroke my back as she always did. I put my arms around her and placed my hands on her naked butt for the first time. It felt deliciously round and warm. I decided it was probably OK, under the circumstances, to keep touching her there, so I concentrated on learning that hitherto mysterious part of her body with my fingers, gently running my fingers along her butt crack, cupping the cheeks. Slowly, Lily’s breath began to slow, and we began to rock back and forth a little in the familiar rhythm that led inexorably to sleep.

From that night on, we had a new routine. No occasion to take a bath together again presented itself for a while – I don’t think either of us would have risked doing that with our parents home. By some miracle they had never interfered with our sleeping in the same bed, but I didn’t think they would look with equanimity on our bathing together! I had returned to my habit of masturbating in the bath every night. However, Lily now – whether she’d bathed or not; she didn’t always – now simply got into the bed naked every night. (I recognized the few nights every month that she still wore panties for what they were and silently congratulated myself on my sagacity.) I hadn’t taken that step of sleeping nude. I had an irrational fear that Mom or even Dad would come into our room at some point and react with horror. I wasn’t even sure they realized we were still skipping the pajamas at night, even though the weather was cool. After all, we always put them on (or, on school days, just got dressed) before leaving our room. Lily didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t follow her example. She would lie with her back facing me, and I would fondle her breasts avidly while she squeezed her thighs rhythmically. Once she came – I had of course recognized that was what was happening, that this somehow was her analog of what I did in the bath – she would turn around and we’d go to sleep the usual way, in each other’s arms.

Having satisfied myself in the bath, I was never tempted to try to bring myself to orgasm with her, although I was of course very aroused while this was going on. I think I just wanted to maintain the self-delusion that there was some innocence to all this. Yes, I was massaging her breasts, but was that really different from massaging her back? Yes, she was having orgasms, but she did that to herself, just as I did. She just happened to do it while we were touching. But one night, she forced my hand – literally. As always, I had my hands on her breasts, but she suddenly reached up, took my right, and pulled it down to her vulva. I was, despite myself, shocked. I’d never once tried to touch her there, though I loved sneaking peeks at the soft, sparse hair, so similar to mine, before she got into bed every evening. It didn’t feel like I was expecting it to. It looked soft, pillowy, comfortable when I saw it, but now it was wet – drenched, really. I had no idea that girls got wet when they were excited (that wasn’t covered in Judy Blume) and I momentarily wondered if something was wrong. However, I had more to worry about. What was I supposed to do here? Just leave my hand there? It was an awkward position. I couldn’t really explore her with my fingers from behind like this. Too, I suddenly really, really wanted to see her. I whispered: “Lil, turn around.” She did. I indicated that she should lay back, and surveyed her naked body in the moonlight. “Robbie,” she said in a low voice. “Touch me.” Her voice sounded almost urgent, and I complied. I put my hand back on her vulva and began to explore. She gasped as my finger slid between her labia. I found her clitoris by complete accident but, following the cues in her breath, began to stroke it lightly. I was acutely aware of the scent of her wetness; it was intoxicating. I watched her squirm in uncontrolled pleasure as I picked up the pace a little. Shortly – it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes – she groaned, so loudly I was afraid our parents would hear, squeezed her thighs together, jerked her knees up, and almost seemed to arch her back. I watched her orgasm with an indescribably proprietary feeling. I had done this for her. I’d made her come, with my own hand. I had created this intense pleasure. “Robbie,” she whispered. “That felt so good.” I didn’t answer, but kissed her on the forehead, then gathered her up in my arms so that we could sleep.

Once again, our routine changed abruptly. Now, not every night but most, she would get into the bed and immediately lie on her back, legs slightly apart, the sheet down by her legs, and I would masturbate her to orgasm, starting by touching her almost imperceptibly, but increasing the pressure and speed as she got wet and her breathing began to change. Initially I missed starting by fondling her breasts from behind, though of course I could still touch them with my left hand. We usually started without even turning out the light, and it was lovely to be able to look at her breasts, her nipples, and the red flush that slowly covered her chest as I stimulated her. But one night, I found something better. I was drinking in the sight of the tiny swellings on her chest rising and falling faster and faster as she built towards a climax. They were irresistible – I yielded to a sudden impulse to bend over and kiss them. Lily let out a small moan as I did so. Emboldened, I took her right one fully into my mouth and teased the stiff nipple with my tongue, while I continued to masturbate her with my fingers. This was a wonderful discovery. Lily squirmed about wildly, gasping and stifling moans. She took my head in my hands and held it tightly to her chest, leaving me no doubt that she wished me to continue this way. I breathed deeply, her scent flooding my nostrils – on her small torso, her breasts were, after all, not so far from the center of her delight. I could taste the saltiness of her sweat. In my excitement, I rubbed her wildly, faster and harder than I had dared to before. Soon, she couldn’t control her moans anymore. I prayed that Mom and Dad were fast asleep or at least couldn’t hear down the hallway and through two closed doors. When she came, I almost had to physically hold her down to prevent her from lurching off the bed, she was convulsing so violently. After it was all over, she lay there, spent. She said only one word: *Robbie!* I knew what she meant.

An eternity passed. “Robbie,” she said shyly. “Does… does it ever feel good for you if you… if you touch yourself? Down there?” Strange question. I nodded. After a moment, she continued: “I used to rub myself sometimes. You know, before…. before…” She giggled. “Before you started doing it. You do it so much better!” I pondered that. Finally, hesitantly, she got to the point. “Maybe… maybe it would feel good for you too. If I did it. I mean, if I touched you down there.” Much too quickly, and much too loudly, I exclaimed: “No!” She looked deeply hurt, and I cursed myself for an idiot. “What I mean is…” I didn’t know what I meant. How could I explain that I was mortally afraid: that it would change everything, that if I allowed myself to need her, to use her, to take from her, to demand any more from her than just the chance to sleep intertwined every night, then I’d cease to be her protector, her wise older brother, and become a monster instead? And yet, I felt I needed ever more superhuman strength to resist. I had long ago given up attempting to think of anything or anyone else than Lily when I masturbated ritually each evening in the bath or shower to keep the monster at bay. No, from the moment I took myself into my hands to the moment I ejaculated, my mind was flooded with images of her: visions of her naked body, memories of how she had felt the previous night, anticipation of what was in store this night. And I imagined things that had never happened and never must: pressing myself ever more insistently against her butt crack as I fondled her breasts, until I came as I had, unwillingly, that first night in the bath. Pulling her to me when as we rested front-to-front and entering her – I wasn’t too clear on the mechanics but I could imagine how wonderful it would feel. Having her take me into her mouth and suck until I came, as I’d heard boys boast about in school. Such fantasies brought me to orgasm reliably every night and relieved me from the urge to try to make them real a couple of hours later. And yet, here I was, with a raging erection, barely able to contain myself, sitting up in the bed next to Lily, my beautiful, naked, damp-haired sister, and she was almost begging me to release the monster of my physical desire on her. “No…” I said again, almost pleading. “Lily… I don’t know. I.. just not now, OK?” Lily smiled wanly. “OK, Robbie.” We stayed silent for a while.

Finally, she sat up and spoke. “Robbie?” I looked at her quizzically. “Could you.. could you at least show it to me?” For a second I didn’t understand. Show what, the monster? Then, getting it, I thought wryly: well, I can hardly come up with an excuse not to. I carefully peeled off my underwear. My penis stood straight and tall in its field of pubic hair. Lily’s eyes were fixed on it. I wanted to pull her onto me, to take her, to push myself into her. The air felt thick. I feared I was going to lose my mind. I said the first word that came to mind: “Look.” She *was* looking. Intently. I knew needed to take control, to fight the dragon, to forestall disaster. Finally, almost not of my own volition, I took myself in hand and began to stroke. Lily watched, fascinated. I was abusing myself harder than I typically did, almost angrily. It didn’t take long. As the pressure built, I felt a groan, almost a low, guttural growl rising. I looked at my sister looking at me, a slight flush still on her chest, imagined her reaching out and touching me and, almost whimpering, said “Lily…” Then I came, spurting all over my belly and chest.

I felt a surge of disappointment in myself. I had failed, I hadn’t been able to control myself, I had done something unforgivable, almost as bad as if I had just rubbed myself against her butt-crack as I had often had the urge to do. I’d always resisted that urge, but now I had given in, I had ruined her innocence, I had cheapened what we had, I would be cursed to lose her, and with her my happiness, forever. My heart was pounding, my ears were roaring, I could see Lily was speaking but couldn’t make out what she was saying.

“… some day,” she finished, as my hearing came back. I didn’t know what would happen someday. Lily, at least, did not seem upset. In fact, she had a look of calm delight on her face, a look I was quite familiar with. I wasn’t terribly comforted. Lily might not have realized yet that I’d spoiled everything, but I knew I had. I’d distorted something had been beautiful, innocent, for God’s sake, so innocent that our parents had never even objected, even Mom had come in that night long ago and told us to sleep in our underwear, and now, here we were, naked, dirty, afraid. Well, I felt dirty and afraid, anyway. Lily looked like she usually did – placid, happy, little. Yes, little, in spite of her recent growth spurt. I had meant to protect my little sister and instead I’d shown her at my worst, in the grip of uncontrollable lust. I felt sick to my stomach. All I could do was pray that Lily wouldn’t see in to my conscience, be disgusted and abandon me. I tried to get a grip; I didn’t want Lily to see how I felt. Perhaps I could hide my feelings and we could just stay the way we always had been. I lay down and gestured to her; she smiled and settled into my arms. I turned out the light. As we lay there in a tight embrace, stroking each other’s backs, the familiar, calm sensation of quiet satisfaction began to creep back into me, edging out my anxiety. Perhaps, I thought as we drifted off to sleep, it would be OK after all.

For a couple of nights we just went straight to sleep in this way. I still masturbated in the shower; I didn’t know if Lily did something similar, but she didn’t prompt me by lying on her back when she got into bed. That wasn’t unusual; while we did it more often than not, it wasn’t an essential part of our nightly routine the way cuddling ourselves to sleep was. Lily was still getting into bed naked, but I kept my briefs on. She didn’t comment on that. On Friday, though, our parents went out again, and Lily shyly asked if we could bathe together again. I wasn’t too surprised, but I suggested that we shower instead. I’d never known Lily to take a shower, but I was beginning to prefer them to baths as a more practical way to get clean, and of course I didn’t want to risk her sitting on my lap again. She acquiesced readily and we got undressed and stepped in. As the water cascaded onto her head, Lily looked surprised. “This is fun!” she said. We stood facing each other, alternating getting soaped up and getting under the water. I didn’t get hard right away, but once we had washed thoroughly and were both standing close to each other, trying to enjoy the warm water at the same time, Lily kept brushing up against me and, inevitably, I began to stiffen. I didn”t try to hide it; what was the point? Lily was watching with great interest as it grew. She looked up at me and smiled. “You look nice, Robbie.” I felt a surge of desire for her as my penis hardened into an upright position. “You… you look real nice too, Lil.” In point of fact, she looked radiant. I don’t know what prompted me to say what I said next. Perhaps I was just expanding on our “discussion” a few nights before. But I blurted out: “You know when you asked if it felt good when I touched myself? I do it every night here. In the shower.” She looked pleased. “How, Robbie?” “You know,” I said. “Like before.” “Show me.” I put my hand on my penis and began to stroke it. After a few seconds, she simply reached out and touched it, without asking first. I let her. For a while, she just felt around the tip while I stroked, but then she said: “Let me do it.” I was helpless; I gave in. I just took my hand away, and she encircled the shaft with her finger and began to stroke it. “It feels *nice*, Robbie!” she exclaimed. “Mmmmm… that feels so good, Lil.” It really did. She was moving at exactly the right pace, and the feeling of her small, warm, chubby fingers was indescribably good. When I did it to myself, I often felt I was almost beating my penis into submission. This was utterly different: Lily was performing magic on me, and waves of pleasure were running through me. I guessed this was what she was feeling when I masturbated her in the bed. Well, maybe it was OK, then. I didn’t mind doing that for her, maybe she didn’t mind doing it for me. I looked at her upper arm, shaking as she moved her hand up and down, then shifted my gaze to her breasts. Her nipples were stiff and I reached out with my hands and began to stroke them. Lily looked up at me, and I returned her gaze, starting into her eyes. I saw nothing there but love and happiness. “Lil…”

“Robbie…” she murmured. “Touch me down there.” Obediently, I took my right hand and reached down. I could just reach her vulva. I began to rub her mons pubis in a circular motion, slipping my finger from time to time onto her clitoris. She moaned a little, but kept stroking me, just right. I was getting close. I didn’t want it to surprise her; I said, “Lily, I’m going to come. I mean, like the other night. It might get on your hand…” “Come, Robbie!” she urged. She redoubled her pace. I felt an awesome surge of excitement, then ejaculated, spraying hot semen all over her belly and her chest. (To be fair, a little probably got on her hand, too.) Waves of almost unbearable pleasure were running up and down me and I momentarily worried my legs might buckle under me. Lily stopped stroking, and said: “Was that right?” What a question to ask, I thought. “Lily, that was the best… the best feeling I’ve ever had,” I said. That wasn’t really true; it was certainly the most intense physical pleasure I had ever felt, but I would have traded it for cuddling with her any given night, if I had to. I didn’t elaborate, though. “I’m so glad, Robbie!” she exclaimed. She really did look glad. She looked radiantly happy, in fact. I guessed that I understood – I thought back to how I’d felt the first time I’d made *her* come. I realized that, in the throes of my orgasm, I’d stopped touching her down there. It was awkward in the shower — “Lily, let’s dry off and go to bed. So I can.. you know. You.” Lily smiled. She turned off the water, and I handed her one of the thick towels. We went to our room and I reprised our session from the other night, stimulating her while I mouthed her breasts. She came hard, as she had before, moaning my name loudly – I guess with our parents still out we could risk it. Afterwards, we lay in each other’s arms, as always; I felt suffused with warmth. It was good, after all, to both have orgasms, by each other’s hands, and – if not at the same time – almost. It made lying together afterwards that much nicer.

After that, while we sometimes still bathed together when our parents were out, we mostly settled on just masturbating each other, simultaneously, each night before we went to bed. We’d lie on our sides, close together, and she’d stroke me while I stroked her. We didn’t always come together, but we often did, and we were in any case never far apart. I worried a little about the mess it made, but it wasn’t a big deal; if it went everywhere I’d just wipe it up with my underwear, which – while I was no longer wearing it in bed at all – I still kept close at hand, out of fear that I might suddenly need it. I was slightly worried about Mom doing the laundry, but I found a solution for that as well; by now I always stripped the bed myself anyway each Sunday, and I just brought the hamper and emptied it into the washing machine myself when Mom was doing the laundry. She never said anything.

We’d successfully, I realized, “changed the rules of the happiness game” once again. I realized that, rather than ruining our deep connection, giving each other orgasms was simply adding yet another dimension, bringing us even closer. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t the last time in our lives we would change the rules, but that will have to wait for another story.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/or6rnc/changing_the_rules_of_the_happiness_game_part_2