Bo and Me, Chapter 3 — Sleepovers (fg, mast, panties, nosex)

**Chapter 3 — Sleepovers**

I take my backpack off, turn the stereo on and flop down on my bed. I’m the first one home today. History class was canceled because Mrs. Sauer is sick, so I got out at twelve and caught the train five minutes later. Mom and Dad are working, and Bo won’t be home from school till one.

Which means I can blast the music as loud as I like. I’ve got one of Dad’s CDs in my cheap stereo, *tusk* by Fleetwood Mac. We listened to it in the car on our first family vacation to Italy when I was seven, and it’s been one of my favourites ever since.

I hit play on the remote and turn up the volume. Closing my eyes, I let the music spill across me. “Over & Over” builds and swells and engulfs me in its vast waves of eerie guitars and hypnotic background vocals. It’s music from another world.

As the song fades, I realize I’m not the only one at home. Annoyed meows are coming from somewhere nearby. I stop the music and quickly manage to trace their source.

The door to Bo’s room, which you can only enter through mine, is slightly open. I get up from the bed, cross the room and open the door all the way. Sure enough, there’s our cat Max, idling on my sister’s bed like it’s nobody’s business… which I guess it really isn’t.

As he sees me, his meows turn into purrs. The prospect of some quality cuddle time seems just as enticing to me as it does to him, so I venture into Bo’s room.

It’s a little smaller than mine and feels cozy. Two of the walls are painted a warm orange, the other two are white like my own room. Bo has a low bed with no posts. It sits underneath a slanting ceiling that she’s stenciled with a large design of a dragon, her favourite animal.

I lie down on her bed next to Max. His purrs intensify as I pet him and murmur sweet nothings in his ears.

After five minutes or so, Max decides he’s had enough cuddles. He sits up suddenly and starts his extensive cleaning routine. “Okay, then,” I concede as I get up.

I’m about to leave when my gaze falls on the chair next to Bo’s bed. It’s one of the small blue plastic chairs that my sister and I used for play when we were much younger. Now it serves as a spot for Bo to drop off her laundry before Mom collects it to be washed.

My eyes almost fall out of my head. Sitting atop a bunch of other clothes, I spot a thong.

I pick it up to take a closer look. It’s not really that provocative — there’s a cute picture of a cat on the front and a little ribbon sewn into the hem. It’s all white cotton, and it’s child-sized. Nonetheless, with its very narrow waist and bottom, it’s clearly a thong.

I’m three years older than Bo, and I don’t have any underwear like that. This isn’t something Mom would have bought for her. In fact, I’m pretty sure I know where it’s from.

Our grandma’s neighbours have a daughter named Julia. She’s twelve, right in between Bo and me age-wise. Her parents are friends with Grandma, and every so often they gift us clothes that Julia’s grown out of for Bo to wear. My guess is that Mom hasn’t sifted through the newest bunch of donated clothes yet, so Bo decided to try on the thong on her own, possibly unaware that Mom might not approve.

I’m in a sort of trance. Without any conscious thought, I strip out of my jeans and panties and try on the thong. It’s too small for me, and as I pull it up all the way, the narrow bottom slips into my butt crack instead of covering it.

It makes me feel sexy, but uneasy, too — not just because I’m wearing a thong, but because I’m wearing my little sister’s used underwear. In a twisted way, that uneasiness makes me feel even sexier, though.

I walk around for a couple steps, reveling in the feeling of being equal parts covered and exposed. Cool air caresses my bare butt. Max is watching me lazily out of the corner of an eye, but continues with his cleaning routine unperturbed.

I slip out of the thong. As I put my own panties and jeans back on, I imagine what it would feel like to wear the thong all day, maybe even at school, being naughty without anyone around me suspecting it. I’d be horny all day.

What if I stole it? Mom would never know it was gone since she’s probably unaware of its existence in the first place, and Bo might think that Mom got rid of it without telling her. In any case, she’d probably be too embarrassed to ask about it.

I’d just have to keep the thong somewhere it can’t be found. Once I put it in the laundry, Mom would find it. How long could I wear it before it gets icky? I pick it up again, still not really conscious of what I’m doing. I turn the thong inside out and bring the crotch to my nose.

The scent hits me right away. Bo has peed in this.

The thong isn’t soaking wet, and there are no pants on her chair, so she’s still wearing those. No major accident, then. Maybe it happened in Sports class when she took a soccer ball to the belly, or during a major giggling fit — at any rate, soon enough for Bo to excuse herself to the bathroom.

A look at the crotch confirms what I already know. One spot is slightly darker than the material surrounding it. There are no visible signs on the outside and the smell is fainter there.

I bring the crotch back up to my nose again. It smells differently than I would have expected. I know the scent of urine from alleyways and underpasses, pungent and stinging, but this is different. Bo’s panties smell musky and warm. I actually seem to like it.

I inhale a couple more times. It’s almost addictive. Once again, I become conscious of what I’ve been doing after the fact: I’m standing in my little sister’s room, holding her worn panties to my face and breathing in their aroma. The realization makes me feel guilty and, at the same time, incredibly horny.

Without thinking, I go back to my room, strip out of my jeans and panties once more and lie down on my bed. Holding Bo’s thong to my nose with one hand, I start to stroke my pussy with the other.

Then I think of something even naughtier. I pull the thong over my head so that the back side is on my forehead and the front underneath my chin. The waistband goes around the side of my head behind my ears, and the crotch settles right over my nose. It fits perfectly.

When I inhale, I can’t smell anything but my sister. That thought and her scent have got me so aroused that it only takes a minute to bring myself to one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had.

That settles it. This thong is mine and I’ll never give it back.

***

I’m still wearing my backpack and shoes as I head into the kitchen. Something occurred to me on the train ride home, and the calendar on the fridge confirms my suspicions.

January 25th 2005. Today is my birthday.

Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t celebrate birthdays. The Bible only mentions two birthday parties, and at both of them, someone ends up dead. One of them is Herod’s birthday, on which a girl named Salome dances for him and he enjoys it so much that he says he will grant her any wish. She asks for the head of John the Baptist on a platter. Herod makes it happen.

I’ve never really felt like I’ve missed out, anyway. I wouldn’t want my class to sing a song for me like they do for other kids’ birthdays. I don’t like being the center of attention. And it’s not like my parents never give me presents, they just don’t do it specifically for my birthday — or Christmas, for that matter.

But I figure if I’m gonna be a bad person who likes other girls and masturbates to film clips of them going naked on the internet, I might as well celebrate this birthday in my own little way. I’m fourteen now, a big girl by most accounts. I feel like this is the perfect occasion to wear my stolen underwear.

Bo’s already home. I can hear the TV in the living room. I peep in and quickly wave hi to her before I venture upstairs to change into her thong.

I keep it hidden in the pages of an atlas that used to belong to Uncle Walther who died when I was just a year old. Mom says he used to rock me in his arms, but of course I can’t remember. As a kid, I loved to flip through his atlas, so one day, Grandma gifted it to me. Now the large book sits on my bookshelf in plain view, but no one else has any reason to look inside.

I quickly strip out of my jeans and panties, then I retrieve Bo’s thong from its hiding place and put it on. I strut around in it for a bit, still in love with the feeling of cool air on my butt cheeks.

I decide to put on pyjama bottoms. It’s just past 1 PM, but I have no intentions of leaving the house again today, so I might as well get comfy.

Wearing the thong underneath my pants makes me feel so sexy. I’m fourteen now, a big girl who gets to wear naughty underwear if she feels like it. I can feel the contours of the thong inside my pyjamas, the narrow bottom slowly riding up my butt crack.

As much as I love to wear the thong, there’s no reason to sniff it anymore. To my surprise, the smell of my sister dissipated after a week or two. As a result, I’ve developed yet another sinful habit.

I eye the door to Bo’s room. *Should I…?* She’s downstairs, unsuspecting. For a few seconds, shame and guilt duke it out with lust inside my head. As usual, my lust wins out. *It’s my birthday, after all.*

The muffled sound of the TV downstairs can be heard through the walls. Sneaking into Bo’s room, I head for the chair with her laundry and sift through some shirts, leggings, jeans… bingo. A pair of plain white cotton panties. I pick them up and it’s like I hit the jackpot.

Sometimes Bo’s panties are barely worn. Other times, there’s a faint smell that’s just enough to kickstart my lust. But every once in a blue moon, my little sister’s scent is strong and thick, like she’s just taken off her underwear minutes ago.

I don’t know what caused it, but there’s a stain on this pair that is visible even on the outside. I sniff at it, and right away I feel a rush of excitement as my sister’s scent floods my consciousness. Is this what a drug addict feels like?

I’m not even gonna lie down. I need to masturbate to these *right now*.

As I press Bo’s dirty panties to my face, taking deep breaths, my other hand sneaks into my pyjama pants, slips beneath the soft cotton of the thong, makes contact with my pussy, spreads my lips, finds my clit. I shiver violently at the contact and almost topple over, but even as I catch my balance, I keep going. I wasn’t gonna make myself come until tonight, but eff it… no, *fuck* it, it’s my birthday, and it would be rude to deny myself the pleasures of Bo’s present, even if it’s an unintended one.

I’ve never had an orgasm standing up. As I come, I’m unable to suppress a loud moan, but I manage to keep my mouth closed, so it just sounds like “*mmmmmmm*.” My vision goes black, and for a few seconds I’m scared I’m actually gonna faint. But the world fades back in and I’m still standing in Bo’s room, panting as I inhale my little sister’s aroma.

As I regain my breath, I decide I want to keep this pair of panties for a while. There’s no point in stealing them for good, now that I know that the smell will disappear eventually, but I can certainly borrow them for a week or two. I’m just gonna do Mom’s job and take the rest of Bo’s laundry downstairs to drop off in the basket in the bathroom.

Going back to my room, I take one last whiff, which makes me shiver, then place the dirty piece of underwear inside the atlas, right where the thong used to be. I put the large book back on its shelf and gather up the rest of Bo’s laundry. As I walk down the stairs, I’m acutely aware of the thong riding further up my butt crack. My head feels hot.

Downstairs, I deposit my sister’s clothes in the bathroom basket and splash my face with cold water for good measure. It helps with my temperature but not the excitement. Am I really still horny? (*What did you expect? That was the whole point of wearing Bo’s thong, wasn’t it?)*

Back in the hallway, I run into Mom who’s just come in. I usually give her a hug, but I’m flustered, acutely aware of the sexy undies I’m wearing. My pussy’s still glowing.

Mom doesn’t seem to notice and gives me a warm hug herself, squeezing me a bit before she pulls back to say, “I’m so happy you and Bo turned out to be such good girls and that you never get into trouble.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I mumble, feeling blood rushing through my head, smiling but looking down.

“I’m making lentils with spätzle today,” Mom says. She knows it’s my favourite meal. She’s making it for my birthday, although she doesn’t say so.

“Awesome,” I manage. “Can’t wait!”

As Mom starts to take off her jacket and shoes, I decide that maybe watching TV will calm me down some. I venture into the living room and plop myself down on the other end of the U-shaped sofa, parallel to Bo. She’s watching *Hamtaro*, an animated series from Japan with a cute hamster as the protagonist.

“Aren’t you a bit too old for *Hamtaro*?” Bo asks.

“Any other day,” I chuckle. Actually, a silly kids’ show is just what I need right now.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s my birthday today,” I say quietly. “Don’t wanna let it get to my head.”

“Ohh, that’s right!” Bo’s lowered her voice too, thinking. “You’re fourteen now, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Happy birthday, Lisa.”

“Thanks.”

We’re not really supposed to wish each other happy birthday, but when we’re out of earshot from adults and there’s no danger of anyone getting beheaded, we say it anyway.

*Hamtaro* is more charming than it has any right to be and I catch myself laughing out loud a couple of times. I’m still distracted, though. I keep glancing over at my kid sister, barely about to be eleven next month if my math is right, looking so innocent and sweet; completely unaware that I get off to the smell of her soiled panties… or that I’m wearing a pair of them right now. *How did Bo feel when she wore this thong?* *Do ten-year-olds get horny?*

Fourteen-year-olds certainly do.

We’re both sprawled out, covered in blankets from the shoulders down. Steam is whooshing through the radiators, so although it’s cold and grey out, it’s toasty inside. But it doesn’t matter a bit — nothing says snug and cozy like a blanket.

Incidentally, nothing says covert and surreptitious like a blanket, either. I’ve got a dangerous idea in my head.

Slowly, slooowly my hand makes the same journey as earlier, as my fingers inch their way into my pyjamas… inside Bo’s thong… sliding through my pussy lips… finally resting on my clit.

I glance sideways at Bo again. She’s laughing, wrapped up in the show… clueless.

Gently, I start circling my clit with a fingertip. It’s still a little tender, needs only the softest of touches. It feels so yummy like this, safe and warm beneath a comfy blanket, watching TV with my sister, gently massaging the most sensitive spot of my body. Bo’s giggles fill the air. I’m turning into jelly.

The tension keeps building, swelling, for five minutes, ten. Then, without warning, I softly slip over the edge. It’s not a single-pointed orgasm, short and explosive; it feels broad and smooth, fills my whole body with warmth, seems to last forever. I let it flow over me, permitting myself a soft, cozy sigh.

“Lisa?” Bo’s looking at me, her smile a little bemused.

“Sorry,” I say, blushing but grinning. “For some reason, I just feel really good today.”

I look back at the TV, and Bo doesn’t inquire further. Slow waves of mild after-pleasure are still washing over me, but I manage to keep still. The scent of melting butter is drifting over from the kitchen. I’m the happiest birthday girl alive.

***

We’ve been talking for an hour or two, me lying in my bed and Bo on her mattress next to it, but now we’re slowly winding down, the breaks in our conversation growing a little longer.

Spring teased our hometown in the Swabian Alps through the first half of April, but for a week now we’ve had another cold spell — even some snow here and there. It’s been a great excuse for our family of four (five if you count Max the cat) to turn up the radiators again and get ourselves snuggly and comfy.

It was Bo who mentioned earlier today that we hadn’t done a sleepover in a while, and I readily agreed we should have one, looking forward to an evening of giggling, silliness and catching up with each other.

Bo and I hauled her mattress, sheets and blanket into my room and laid them out next to my bed, then we got into our pyjamas and brushed our teeth, eager to turn the lights off around 8:30 PM even though it’s Friday, much to our parents’ surprise.

We used to do it all the time as kids, alternating whose mattress we moved into whose room. After going to bed, we’d stay up for an hour or two, making up campfire stories or just talking about whatever went through our minds until we dozed off. It’s probably been two years since our last sleepover, though. We’ve both been spending more time with friends our own age than with each other.

But tonight, it’s just the two of us again, chattering, giggling, quietly singing TV show themes; finally quieting down in the glow of each other’s presence.

That is, until Bo asks, “Hey, can I crawl into bed with you and snuggle? It feels like that would be great right now. You know, with the icky weather outside and everything. Max wasn’t really in the mood for cuddling with me earlier, so I’ve been missing out.”

I laugh, saying, “Yeah, the cat has sure been moody today. Okie-dokie, crawl on in.”

I can hear her bed sheets moving in the dark as I make room for her, shuffling toward the wall and holding up my blanket for her to slip underneath. Immediately Bo snuggles up, lying on her side to face me, pressing her body into mine. I can’t help but smile at her sudden resolute display of affection. Still lying on my back, I slip my arm underneath her neck and hold her like that.

She makes strategic use of her position and plants a peck on my cheek, making me laugh again. I’m also starting to grow really warm somewhere in my chest. It’s been a long time since we’ve been this affectionate with each other.

Bo starts to stroke my hair, and she’s so close that even in the dark, I can tell that she’s smiling contentedly. I respond by stroking her back with the arm I have wrapped around her. For whatever reason, the closeness seems to make it necessary for us to talk in near-whispers.

“I’m really happy that you’re my sister, Lisa,” Bo says.

“I’m really happy you’re my sister, too,” I say.

That seems to be the end of tonight’s chat, and for a while we just lie there stroking each other, one of us shifting slightly every once in a while. Bo stays lying on her side, attached to me like glue, and keeps giving me pecks on the cheek.

At some point, I become aware that aside from just being content with all the sisterly affection and getting cozy in a warm bed on a cold night, it also feels really nice to have my hands full of girl. A cute girl who is nestling herself as closely as possible through my every movement, occasionally stroking my hair or kissing my cheek.

Fuck.

*Fuck! Come on Lisa, it’s bad enough that you’re a lesbian, and that you masturbate, and sniff your sister’s panties, but now you’re thinking about Bo that way? Are you that desperate? She’s only eleven!*

Some other body part tells my brain to shut up for a while and I focus on enjoying all the sensations I feel snuggling with my sister. The smell of her hair, of shampoo and girl. The way our bodies are touching through our pyjamas. The warmth of her skin where my arm is cradling her neck, the gentle throb of her heartbeat against my side, her breath caressing the side of my face.

Turning my head to gaze into Bo’s eyes, I continue to stroke her back. She gives me yet another peck on the cheek, and I laugh, saying, “If I kiss you back, are you gonna stop doing that? I wanna sleep.”

Bo says, “Okay.”

I don’t even know why I’ve asked. Maybe it’s a defensive reaction because I feel uncomfortable being kissed by my sister, even if it’s only on the cheek. Beautiful as it is, it feels wrong… at least as long as I’m having these forbidden thoughts about her. Or maybe I just want to give myself an excuse to kiss her back. Probably both.

I try to turn onto my side to face her but she clings tightly as I shift positions, moving right along with me, not allowing even an inch of space to get between us. We’re both giggling at how determined she is to stay glued to me.

“For heaven’s sake!” I whisper. “You’re crazy, girl!”

She just laughs, refusing to yield in the slightest. Once I manage to turn on my side, Bo wraps her arm around me and presses herself even closer so we’re lying chest to chest now, belly to belly. She even places one foot over my ankle. I kiss her on the cheek.

Then we just hold each other, an unspoken challenge between us of who’s going to make the first move to revert back into a sleeping position. After five minutes or so, it becomes clear to me that it’s not going to be her, so I shuffle around again in order to lie on my back. Bo stubbornly clings to me.

By the time I’m done shifting myself around, she is half lying on top of me with an arm draped across my chest, one leg hooked over mine and her head resting on my shoulder.

I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable — or more accurately put, way too comfortable. In fact, I’m tingling all over with arousal. *For my own baby sister!*

I laugh, mainly to conceal my nervousness, saying, “Bo, I can’t sleep like this. You need to get off me, okay?”

She lets out a mock sigh, but rolls over onto her back. After a moment’s silence, she says, “Can I still use your arm as a cushion? It feels really nice when you hold me.”

I like it too, so I say yes. Thankfully, I fall asleep soon after.

***

When I wake up with Bo still resting in my arm, I’m determined that this won’t be our last sleepover this year. Or this month. Or this weekend.

Bo is still sleeping, so I just drink in the sight of her, and it only feels partially inappropriate. I’m feeling very sisterly, too — whatever that means.

Her first sign of waking is a drawn-out sigh as she lazily turns onto her side to face me. She puts her head on my shoulder and stretches an arm across my belly.

“You awake?” I ask.

Bo takes a few seconds to answer. “Kinda,” she says with a half-frown, eyes still closed. I giggle, then shut up.

We lie there lazily for a while, not moving much, in no hurry to leave the warmth and comfort of the blanket. After fifteen minutes or so, Bo says, “I slept reeeally well next to you. Thanks for letting me do that.” She kisses me on the cheek — *I could get used to those*, I think —, then scrambles out of bed.

Once she’s standing out in the open, Bo’s eyes widen in horror and she dives onto her own mattress next to my bed, kicking around wildly as she tries to scramble underneath the blanket. When she’s finally covered up, I can only tell from the shape of Bo’s blanket that she’s lying on her tummy, shivering.

After a few seconds, we both break out in laughter.

“Is it that cold?” I ask.

“Come out and see for yourself. While you’re at it, you can turn up the radiator,” she orders.

I laugh. “You’re closer!”

“Don’t. Care,” she says emphatically.

“You can probably reach it from your mattress!” I say.

For a few seconds, nothing happens. Then I see her arm slowly extending from beneath the blanket. She *almost* makes it to the dial but not quite, finally letting her arm drop to the ground. “Nope,” she says hopelessly.

Letting out a mock sigh, I get up, pad over to the radiator and turn it up. The sound of steam starts to rush through it.

I walk past Bo back towards my bed; then on an instinct, when I know she can’t see me, I hurl myself at her. I jump so that my limbs land around her, my torso hovering just above the Bo-shaped lump under the blanket. She shrieks loudly. I let myself drop and pin her down.

“So you don’t wanna get up, huh?” I growl. She’s laughing by now, struggling beneath me, but her efforts are futile.

“I do, I do!” she yelps.

“What’s the code word…?” I demand.

“I don’t know!” she cries, still struggling.

“Then you’re my prisoner.”

Suddenly she stops moving and lies still again. Then, gathering all her strength into what she hopes is a surprise move, she tries to throw me off, but still no dice.

“*Please* let me go!” she wails.

“That’s not the code word,” I say.

“Wait, I know, I know!” Bo exclaims. “But I need to whisper it into your ear.”

I put my face down next to hers, and Bo kisses me on the cheek again.

“That’ll do,” I say, freeing her.

***

When it’s time for us to get ready for bed that night, we go to the bathroom together to brush our teeth; then we take turns stepping out for a moment, giving each other some privacy to undress and change into our pyjamas. We started doing that when I was around ten and felt awkward about my body starting to change.

I go upstairs to my room first and get into bed. A minute later, as Bo walks through my room to get to hers, I ask her, “Wanna stay overnight again?”

“Sure!” she says happily. “I’ll go get my mattress.”

“Well, it’s still cold outside,” I say. “Wanna sleep in my bed again and help me keep warm?”

“Okay,” she says, smiling. I smile back, lifting the blanket for her. Bo crawls in and immediately snuggles up to me, like the first time. I play with her hair for a while, then kiss her on the forehead.

“*That’s* not a proper goodnight kiss,” she says, showing me how it actually works by kissing me on the cheek. “Goodnight, Lisa.”

I smile and kiss her back before I reach over to turn off the light. “Goodnight, Bo.”

***

The next day is Sunday, meaning different bedtimes for us, so we both end up sleeping in our own rooms. Bo has a 9 PM curfew on school nights whereas I can stay up till twelve if I want to… which I usually do, chatting with online friends from the USA for whom it’s only early afternoon, or masturbating to porn. Our parents got me my own PC last month, so I don’t have to use Mom’s anymore, but I have to keep quiet when Bo’s next door in her room.

***

The weekend after, I really want Bo to sleep in my room again, but I’m afraid of being found out. I don’t want her to suspect that I have more than just sisterly feelings for her. It might seem suspicious if I want to have her sleeping over all the time, so I wait for her to ask me instead. She doesn’t, and I curse myself for pussyfooting.

She doesn’t ask the next two weekends either, but then one Friday in May, she sits down on my bed while I’m at the computer.

“You wanna sleep over in my room tonight?” Bo asks.

“Sure,” I say, trying and probably failing not to sound too giddy about the prospect.

“I know it’s not cold anymore, but you don’t need to bring your mattress if you don’t want to,” Bo says. Inside I cheer, happy about setting that precedent last time, but I remain cautious.

“Are you sure you want me crammed in there with you? Your bed’s smaller than mine. And it might get too hot eventually,” I say.

“I don’t care. If it gets all sweaty, you can still go get your mattress,” she replies.

“Okay.”

Once we’re ready for bed, I follow Bo to her room. She gets into bed first, making herself comfortable, then holds up her blanket for me like I did for her. She smiles, saying, “Get in.” I’m happy to do just that.

We talk about this and that, stuff that’s happened since the last sleepover, swapping quotes from *SpongeBob* (Bo knows the dialogue from most episodes by heart), et cetera. As our conversation dwindles, I lie facing her. Lifting her head, I slip my arm underneath her neck again and she turns to face me.

We just smile at each other for a while until Bo gives me a peck on the cheek, then she moves back, still smiling. *God, I’ve missed those kisses*, I think, and kiss her back.

We take turns for a while, with small breaks in between kisses just spent smiling at each other. Then Bo says, “I didn’t think I could ever like you this much.” She’s blushing.

“Same here,” I say.

After she’s kissed me once more, I gather up all my courage, thinking, *now or never.*

I kiss her on the lips. Just a small peck, like the ones before; only the destination is different. Bo gives me a surprised look.

“Hmm?” I ask, pretending nothing’s happened.

“You just kissed me on the lips,” she says.

“I guess.”

“But we’re *sisters*.”

“And?”

“Sisters can’t do that.”

“If you didn’t like it, I won’t do it again.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Hmm?” I’m playing dumb.

“I liked it, but you’re my sister.”

“I’m your sister, but you liked it.” Bo doesn’t respond to that, so I continue, “If you liked it, then what’s the harm?” She still doesn’t say anything, evidently thinking. Finally I say, “I’m sorry,” and give her another peck on the cheek. “Do you still like me?”

“Of course, silly,” she replies with a smile, and kisses me back on the cheek. She closes her eyes and that seems to be the end of our conversation for tonight. After a while, Bo falls asleep.

***

When I wake up the next morning, Bo’s still in my arms, just like the first time. I gaze at her beautiful face just a few inches from mine, marveling at the sensations of being snuggled up to her, feeling her hair on my skin, the weight of her neck on my arm.

And I’m incredibly horny.

She’s still asleep. I manage to pull my arm out from underneath her without waking her up. I get up, walk into my room and close the door. Back in my bed, I slide underneath the blanket, put my hand in my pyjamas and masturbate, trying not to make a sound.

After I come, I just lie there with my hand still down my pants, my eyes closed with Bo’s image in my mind, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.

Twenty minutes later, Bo walks into my room. Panicked movements might give me away, so I leave my hand where it is, hidden underneath the blanket.

“Morning,” I say, smiling.

“Why did you leave?” Bo inquires.

“I just had to move and stretch a bit… you know, after cuddling all night. Your bed is kinda small for two,” I explain. “I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I came over here.” I can feel myself blushing at the unintended innuendo in what I’ve just said, but of course Bo doesn’t notice.

“Don’t do that again,” she says. “I like waking up next to you, that’s part of the *fun* of sleeping over.”

*That’s gonna be pretty hard*, I think, feeling my pussy throb against my palm. “Okay,” I concede.

Bo smiles as she leaves. “See you downstairs.”

The second she closes the door, my fingers start moving again.

***

We’re in our own beds that night when I hear Bo calling over from her room.

“Lisa?”

“Yeah?”

She doesn’t say anything else, so I get up and open the door to her room. Bo is grinning, holding up her blanket. Grinning back, I close the door behind me and crawl into bed with her.

She snuggles up to me and our little game starts again. Peck on the cheek. Smile at each other. Kiss back. Smile at each other.

I decide to try my luck again. I give her a peck on the edge of her mouth; not really on the cheek, not really on the lips. Bo looks a little bemused but doesn’t say anything.

Her next peck goes on my forehead. I decide to play along, giving her a peck near her ear. She giggles and kisses me on the nose.

My next one is fully on her lips. Just a small peck like the others, but I go for it decisively with maximum sound effect. *Smack!*

Bo’s eyes widen with surprise. “Lisa!” she gasps.

“Hmm?” I smile.

“You can’t *do* that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re sisters.” She says it slowly, as if I’ve forgotten about our recent conversation and need to be reminded like a little child.

“Why are all the other spots okay to kiss, but that one isn’t?” I ask — not annoyed, just curious. Bo gives it some thought.

“Only lovers kiss each other on the lips,” she says eventually.

“But you liked it, right?” I ask.

She bites her lip and it’s way too cute. “Yes.”

“Then why can’t I kiss you there? Why should only lovers enjoy it?” I ask.

Once again, Bo ponders it for a moment before she says, “Besides, we’re both girls, right?”

I feel a sting somewhere in my chest. *Girls can be lovers, too*, I think. But saying that isn’t going to help my case, so I smile and reply, “Exactly.”

Bo smiles back at me and gives me a gingerly peck on the lips herself. *Sooo yummy.*

“Did it hurt?” I tease, grinning at her.

“Shut uuup,” she replies, blushing.

I ruffle Bo’s hair. She giggles. We drift asleep soon after.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/m0o5vv/bo_and_me_chapter_3_sleepovers_fg_mast_panties