The next morning at breakfast I let my parents know I’d be staying over at Timothy’s again that night. They seemed to be very pleased at my newly active social life and repeated their earlier suggestion that I should ask him over myself at some point. Truth be told, I wasn’t thrilled at that idea. I couldn’t imagine my parents being able to engage in interesting conversation with Timothy around the dinner table the way his mother did with us. And, after staying over at his modest apartment, I was suddenly sensitive, in a way I’d never been before, of what he might think if he saw the rather grand building that we lived in. I understood of course that we were reasonably well off, with Lily going to a private school and everything. I’d gone to a (different) private school myself for elementary school, and most of my friends, near as I could tell, came from even wealthier families, going on ski vacations every winter and to Europe in the summer; we’d never done that sort of thing. But the contrast between our doorman building, huge (by New York standards) apartment, and genteel neighborhood on the one hand, and Timothy’s Lower East Side, fiftth-floor, converted-one-bedroom dilapidated walk-up on the other was uncomfortably in the forefront of my mind after successive nights at each. I felt like I had entered a different world — not at all in a bad way! — when I’d visited them: a world in which the surroundings were rough, tight but cozy, the conversation was intimate and meaningful, and of course the cooking was fantastic. I wanted to experience more of that world, not to invite Timothy into my own, not very interesting world. Nevertheless, I promised my parents that I’d have Timothy over sooner or later, and, stuffing a change of clothes into my backpack, I happily escaped early enough to find him in the auditorium and hang out, covertly holding hands again, for a good half hour before class.
Author: NotReallyAshamed
Changing the rules of the happiness game (Part 4) [Str8][mf][inc][mast][mm]
We rolled apart, panting. In the almost-complete darkness — the only window in Timothy’s makeshift bedroom faced the blank brick wall of an airshaft — I strained to make out his face, wondered what he was thinking. After a while, his heavy breathing subsided. I could smell the faint scent of our ejaculation, intermingled with perspiration. Timothy didn’t say anything, and I remained silent as well. My emotions were churning. Part of me wanted to embrace him, to fall asleep in his arms, to seek any intimate contact to fill the hole that had been left in me when our parents forced Lily and me to stop sleeping in the same bed. But I recognized the essential impossibility of that. I liked Timothy as a friend, and I was somewhat intrigued by and attracted to his body, but of course I didn’t feel anything like the almost mystical bond I had with my sister. I was surprised, though not unhappy about what had happened tonight, but I had no clue what direction it would go next. Would Timothy push me away if I put my arms around him? Would he ever want to get off with me again, or was this just a lapse, something that he regretted and would disclaim any responsibility for? I just had no idea what to think, and I fell asleep wondering what I’d say to him in the morning.
Changing the rules of the happiness game (Part 3) [Str8][mf][inc][mast][mm]
Over the course of the next year or so, Lily underwent a big growth spurt. She got a lot taller; not quite as tall as I, but standing, we could now almost look each other straight in the eyes. She’d been a little chubby her whole life (and how often I’d luxuriated in her soft belly, feeling its gentle protuberance, watching it jiggle a little when she walked naked in front of me, watching it bunch up when she bent over), but now her tummy flattened out. It was still soft but no longer jiggly; no matter, still nice to touch, to look at, to rest my face upon. Her breasts, which so recently had been mere swellings with pink nipples in the center, had grown into small, pert cones, and much to Lily’s annoyance, our mom had insisted that she start wearing a bra. Putting it on in front of me on the first school morning that she wore it – it was a sort of stretchy thing, not really what I thought bras were based on my limited understanding of the topic – she complained bitterly that it was uncomfortable, unnecessary, and ugly. I reassured her that it was at the very least not ugly; she looked nice standing there with her breasts outlined by the material.
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.
Changing the rules of the happiness game (Part 1) [Str8][mf][inc][mast]
This is a joyful story! Today I am happily married with kids and my little sister Lily is too, but the two of us still have a special bond that we share with nobody else, not even our spouses. It’s made my life such a happy one!
When she was little, Lily used to get scared at night – of the dark, of the wind, of thunder, of a bad dream, of anything really. Of course she would always go to our parents’ bedroom when that happened, but at some point, when she wasn’t so little anymore, she got to the point where she could sleep through the night.
Yes, we did get caught (Part 5) [Str8][mf][Inc]
Within a day or two, my fate was fixed; seemingly Mom and Dad had simply made up their minds, without further consulting me, that Chrissy and I would be attending prom as a couple. Mom and Chrissy were planning to go shopping for a dress that weekend. On Friday morning I gave in to the inevitable and went to the table near the school entrance to buy a pair of prom tickets. It wasn’t as simple as I’d imagined. There was a permission slip, which surprised me – I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to get my parents to sign something for school. Worse, there was a “guest form” that had to be filled out if your date wasn’t from the school. That posed a problem: I couldn’t very well put Chrissy’s full name on the form, especially as our family name was fairly distinctive. Furthermore, the form had to be signed by the non-student’s parents. I took the forms home and consulted Mom, pointing out that I didn’t really want anyone at school knowing that Chrissy was my sister. Mom laughed and said, “Don’t worry about it.” She filled in: “Attendee’s name: Chrissy Baboulis.” Baboulis was Mom’s maiden name. Then she signed the form, again using her maiden name, dated it, and handed it back. “Problem solved.” Dad signed my form, using our family name, and wrote a check for the two tickets. He commented: “I’m glad you’re doing this, son. You’ll have a lot of fun. We’ll head down to Jock’s soon to fit you for a tux, OK?” Jock’s was a formal wear company in town. The packet I’d picked up at school had an advertisement for tux rental from a place that, I guess, the school hand contracted with for a discount in exchange for advertising, but Dad was adamant: “No, we’ll definitely go to Jock’s. He’ll take care of you.” Dad owned various fancy outfits; it went along with being a musician, I guess. “Renting a tux is silly, anyway. We can buy something that looks really good on you for not that much more, and you’ll be able to use it all your life. You’re pretty much done growing, I hope — or I won’t be able to afford to feed you anymore.” That was another tired old joke of his.
Yes, we did get caught (Part 4) [Str8][mf][Inc]
The next morning, waking up a bit later than usual, we hurriedly showered and got ready to leave for our respective schools, hardly saying a word to each other. Evidently we were both still mulling over what had happened the night before, although I didn’t feel that there was any particular tension between us – we took a moment to embrace and kiss in the shower and it felt as sweet and loving as it always did. Nevertheless, as I made my way to school, my thoughts and emotions were churning. I knew I would have to process fully what had happened, and the problem was, my mind kept skittering away from parts of it whenever I tried to look at it head-on:
Chrissy likes to have her butthole tongued. Great! She’s got a cute, fresh-tasting butthole and I’ll tongue it any time she wants. Or put my finger up. Butt stuff isn’t exactly my big kink, I don’t think, but it makes her happy so it makes me happy. (What if she wants me to fuck her butt? Would it fit? Would it hurt? …What if she wants to play with my butt? Um, err, hmmm, let’s think about something else.)
Yes, we did get caught (Part 3) [Str8][mf][Inc]
After that, Chrissy and I slept together without fail, every night. In the beginning, if our parents were around, we made somewhat of a big show of going to our own rooms in the evening at different times and doing random stuff with the door open for a while, as if to show that yes, we were definitely going to sleep in our own beds that night, as always, yes sirree. Only after we’d closed our doors and turned off our lights, carefully avoiding doing that at the same time, would I sneak over to Chrissy’s room through the bathroom. For some reason, maybe just because we had slept there the first night, we always ended up in her bed; I don’t remember Chrissy ever once coming over to mine. But I would dutifully muss up the sheets in my own bed, to make it look like I’d slept there, just in case my mom happened to enter during the day. (I’d never acquired the good habit of making my bed in the morning!) As time went on, though, we realized that our parents, true to form, weren’t really paying attention to our evening rituals, or at least, if they noticed anything, they weren’t putting two and two together. And of course at least half the time they weren’t home when we went to bed anyway. Eventually, we didn’t bother with the obfuscation; it got to the point where we’d simply walk into her door, shut the door, and get into bed together.
Yes, we did get caught (Part 2) [Str8][mf][Inc]
At some point, we heard noises from the master bedroom down the hall. Morning ablutions – voices – yes, both Mom’s and Dad’s. I couldn’t tell what was being said, but at least it didn’t seem to be terribly loud or emotional. Finally, the door open and Dad strode out. He walked by the living room, saw Chrissy and me, and spoke pretty much the last words I was expecting: a perfectly normal, cheery “Hi, kids!” I simply could not comprehend his sang-froid. Neither Chrissy nor I managed to greet him back, but he didn’t seem to notice anything strange. Instead he went to the kitchen and noisily began preparing breakfast. We looked at each other in confusion and Chrissy murmured “do you think…?” I wasn’t sure what she wondered I was thinking. Did I think Dad knew? Of course. He hadn’t seen us, true, but surely he’d been close behind Mom, and surely she hadn’t been able to keep her shock and horror hidden from him.
Yes, we did get caught (Part 1) [Str8][mf][Inc]
Yesterday someone posted a question on another sub, about siblings who got caught fooling around. It touched a nerve. That was us. My sister and I “fooled around” a lot. We were close in age and both kind of chubby and awkward, and neither of us had normal social lives so it was kind of inevitable that we spent a lot of time together. The question brought a flood of memories back. I started to write this as a comment on that post, but in the end decided it deserved its own post.
Our parents left us to our own devices (figuratively speaking – this was long before cellphones and the like) much of the time. We had lots of silly games and habits – like for example we’d recreate scenes from our favorite books (we both read a lot and shared books). Sometimes the scenes would get very dramatic. For example, she’d be dying of consumption and needed to be examined by the doctor – that was me of course. And that meant, obviously, unbuttoning her blouse and feeling her chest. Which she didn’t mind at all! As I said our parents weren’t paying a whole lot of attention to us, but they knew we played games together and I think they must have realized that the games would sometimes progress to that kind of experimentation even though we knew not to do it in front of them. I think they were embarrassed to confront us, or maybe just didn’t care.