The Story of Us

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Please note: all characters and events described in this story are fictional, and any resemblance to real-life persons is completely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older.


“Allie, where’s the remote?”

“On the coffee table,” my sister yelled from the kitchen. I heard her rooting around in the fridge, probably making another sandwich. I kept telling her to watch her carbs, but she was a track addict who ran two miles a day. Ergo she ate like a shark with no side-effects.

I looked over at the coffee table, a sturdy European-style metal and glass affair dad brought back from one of his business trips, but there was no remote. A quick check of the end tables on both sides of the couch also left me hanging, which sucked because if there was no remote, then there was no movie because the stupid Blu-Ray player didn’t have any buttons on the front except for ‘power’. You could turn it on and off, but that was it. “No it’s not. C’mere and help me look.”

She trotted in from the kitchen, sure enough carrying a sandwich. “Remind me to write ‘mayo’ on the grocery list.”

“Will you start looking?”

“OK, chill out. It didn’t just grow legs and walk away.” She set the plate with her uneaten sandwich down on the coffee table and joined the hunt.

We spent the next fifteen minutes searching, Allie bending down to look under the furniture while I pulled cushions off the sofa and love seat. We looked on the kitchen counters, the dining room table, behind the TV stand, everywhere we could think, but came up empty-handed. With a hefty sigh, Allie flopped down dramatically on the love seat and swung her feet up and over one arm. “Well that sucks.”

“No kidding. You don’t suppose Dad hid it for some reason, do you?”

“Why would he do that, Kara?”

“Because it’s Dad? It’d be just like him to go out with his friends, knowing we were gonna watch a movie here, and hide the remote to screw with us. Remember the time he hid your uniform right before your track meet?”

“Yeah.” Allie laughed. “How about the time he took all the sheets and stuff off your bed and tried to convince you that they were still there and you just couldn’t see them because you needed new glasses?”

I involuntarily pushed my glasses up on my nose and shared her laughter. At eighteen, she was only a year younger than me, but Allie was still mostly a kid at heart. Somehow high school hadn’t driven it out of her yet. I hoped the world never did.

“You’re right, Dad’s probably messing with us. I bet he hid it in his room. Let’s go see if we can find it.”

I hesitated. “I don’t think he’d put it in his room. He doesn’t like us poking through his stuff when he’s not around.”

“What, is he afraid we’ll put on his nasty old man-undies while he’s away?”

I had to laugh at that. Dad still looks decent despite being in his early forties, but his boxers are way too large to fit either one of us.

“It’s a matter of privacy,” I said. “You wouldn’t want him rummaging around in your room, right?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be a dork and hide the remote in my dresser either. Seriously let’s just take a quick look and then we’ll leave. It’s Friday, so you know he’s not going to be home before two AM anyway.” She stood up and stretched, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Come on, I’ll race you!” She took off down the hallway and I stumbled into a run after her, a pointless gesture since Allie got all the athletic talent in the family even if she was sometimes a bit lacking in the common sense department.

Naturally she got to Dad’s room first and had the knob twisted and the door pushed open before I caught up with her a few seconds later. “Open sesame!”

Dad’s room looked way different from our rooms. It was bigger for one thing, with a king-size bed and a big-screen TV right on the wall across from it. He had a desk where he kept his laptop when he worked from home, a massive four-column filing cabinet, a walk-in closet, and (my biggest envy) a private attached bathroom with its own glass upright shower and a separate bathtub with those awesome massaging jets. Allie and I shared the other bathroom, which was much more pedestrian: sink, toilet, tub, shower curtain, and a window with a frosted glass facade that let in the light without letting in the perverts.

Allie was already at the closet when I looked over at the television. “Why don’t we just watch the movie in here? The TV’s got a built-in DVD player and the remote’s right there on his nightstand.”

“Don’t you want to snoop?” she whined.

I walked over to the bed and climbed up on it, the pillow-top mattress and bedspread cool and soft against my knees. “You snoop. I’ll get the movie cued up.” I grabbed the remote and hit power. The TV clicked on, a simple blue screen. Scanning the remote, I pressed the button for ‘DVD’. Then I realized something. “Hang on, I left the movie in the living room.” I got off the bed, hearing the metal clank of hangers as Allie sifted through Dad’s wardrobe looking for escort ataşehir God-knew-what.

I was halfway down the hall when I heard the music. It was jaunty, but cheesy, the kind you have a hard time believing anyone would listen to of their own accord. Especially Dad, who was known for loving his Zeppelin, Stones, and Floyd. Naturally the music Allie and I enjoyed on the radio was ‘garbage’, but his was ‘classic’. Don’t get me wrong, I like Classical music just fine, and I don’t think the two years of piano lessons when I was ten and eleven were a waste, but Dad’s idea of ‘classic’ and mine couldn’t have been more different. I wondered if Allie had turned on Dad’s iPod, which was docked on his nightstand and served as his alarm clock, but no chance Dad would have such a moronic tune on his play list.

Curious, I walked back into the room. Apparently there had been a disc in the DVD player which decided to auto-play when I turned it on. I went to eject it, but the title caught my eye: ‘Sister’s Surprise.’

“Allie, come here. I think Dad pranked us after all.” I found the remote and hit pause.

Allie walked out of the closet. “How come?”

“I think he hid the remote, figuring we’d go into his room to use the DVD player, and find this.” I pointed at the screen.

“‘Sister’s Surprise?'” Allie screwed up her face. “Gotta be a joke. Well, let’s not disappoint him.” She bounded up onto the bed, hogged most of the pillows, and stretched out her arms and legs. I climbed up after her and despite her sprawl still had plenty of room. Like I said, Dad’s bed is huge compared to the full-size mattress in mine. I reached over and hit ‘Play’ on the remote, then settled back to watch.

Two girls who maybe kind of looked like sisters if I took off my glasses and didn’t think about it very much, walked into the frame. They wore matching basketball uniforms, only with shorts that were way under regulation for length, and tops so low-cut as to guarantee a suspension if they were worn in any gymnasium during school hours. They were outside, a bright sunny day as opposed to the cool autumn night outside our ploace, and they walked up to the front door of the house where they presumably lived. Names flashed on the screen, the opening credits, but they had to be made up. I’d certainly never heard of anybody actually named ‘Candy Kane’ or ‘Priscilla Pounder’ before. And that stupid, fake-happy music kept right on playing.

“Who names their kid ‘Candy’ anyway?” Allie asked with a giggle. “That’s just asking for trouble. ‘Candy’ is, like, a stripper name.”

The camerawork was shoddy and unsteady, with somebody obviously holding it and struggling to keep the girls in view while walking behind them and trying not to trip on the sidewalk. The sound was also crap, despite the shadow of a boom mic I could see cast on the wall beside their door. It looked marginally cleaner than your standard low-budget film, but I’d seen any number of indie shorts on on Vimeo or YouTube that put this to shame.

One of the girls produced a key from between her cavernous cleavage, caused by breasts way larger than seemed natural for someone of her size, and fit it into the lock.

“Oh come on,” Allie said. “How’d she keep that in there, magic? Gravity’s a thing!”

Did I mention Allie’s one of those people who likes to talk to the screen? I ignored her, watching the girls walk through the door and inside a house that looked like a movie set before the property master had been there. The walls were bare, the furniture (what little there was) didn’t match, and the carpet appeared far too clean for such a high-traffic area. The curtains were as generic as you could get, a plain ivory that could be pulled across to block the view but none of the afternoon light.

“That was a good practice,” one of the two girls said, too stiffly in my opinion, like she was trying to make it up on the fly.

“Sure was,” the other one replied, with a twinge of uncertainty as she walked inside the house.

“Bullshit,” Allie snorted. “The only thing they’ve been practicing is gluing keys to their boobs. They’re not even sweaty. Their hair’s not even messed up.”

“They probably showered at school,” I said.

“We really should take a shower,” said the first girl, putting paid to that idea.

“Yeah, we should,” said the second. “I’m a mess.”

They walked up the stairs to the second floor of the house without bothering to close the front door. God, it was like whoever directed this just had no eye for detail.

“The only ‘surprise’ about this so far is that we’re watching it,” Allie said. I found myself agreeing with her. If this was Dad’s idea of a joke, it was pathetic even for him.

The next scene showed a giant bathroom featuring an oversize walk-in shower with a frosted glass door. The two girls, continuing their stilted banter, walked into the bathroom talking about how hard they’d just worked on their basketball skills. One of them called the other one ‘sis’, because apparently the title wasn’t obvious enough, and kadıköy escort I was just about to reach over and hit ‘stop’ because I couldn’t take it any longer, when the first one peeled her top up over her head, and the second one did the same.

“Ummm…” Allie said. “Haven’t they heard of private bathrooms?”

“I guess not,” I laughed.

Down came the shorts, and with them the panties, which they took great pains to remove without having first taken off their shoes. Even I, as non-athletic as they come, knew this was dumb. Shoes come off first, then everything else.

The other thing I realized: the camera wasn’t zooming in or changing the frame to hide the nudity on display like it usually did with films where actors appeared naked on screen. The few movies I’d seen where people started taking off clothes always used these little tricks so you never saw anything below the waist, or where you’d see a boob for a few seconds, but then it would be covered by an arm or something.

But this wasn’t like that at all. These girls were stripping down to nothing and the camera wasn’t looking away. I also noticed that, unlike me, these girls were bare between their legs. Some of my friends at school talked about shaving and how great it felt, but I never felt like I could go that far. For one thing, who would see to care? For another, what if I didn’t care for the sensation?

The second girl (it was starting to get harder to tell them apart now that they were undressed) opened the door to the shower and turned on the water while the first one struggled to get her shoes off. Whoever held the camera lingered on her butt for what seemed like an eternity. What on earth would Dad be doing with a movie like this in the first place? I wondered to myself.

The first girl got her shoes off and stuck a hand into the shower to test the water temperature, and then it was the second girl’s turn to remove hers. She bent over, and again the cameraman fairly glued his lens to her ass. She had a small birthmark on her right cheek, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to use that as a distinguishing feature.

Still making forced conversation, the ‘sisters’ on screen started talking about how sore one of them was, how the other would give her a back rub once they were in the shower, and other stuff that seemed odd for siblings to be discussing. But sure enough, they stepped into the shower, the one girl put her hands on the other’s shoulders, and started kneading.

They didn’t bother to close the shower door, so their parents would be mad as hell when they saw the puddles all over the floor. I looked at Allie, who was watching with interest. “Do you think this is weird?”

“Yeah, sort of,” she said. “But, I dunno, it’s kinda neat. Dad’s never been big on the R-rated stuff. Maybe he’s started to loosen up a bit.”

The girl receiving the massage on the screen moaned and reached an arm back, wrapping it around the head of the girl working her shoulders, and stroked her neck with her fingertips. Then, without warning, she turned to face the other girl, leaned forward, and…

“Oh my God!” Allie said, sitting up.

I watched, not quite believing what I saw. They’re actresses, I told myself. It’s not weird that they’re kissing, because they’re just playing sisters, they’re not really related. I said this to Allie.

“How do you know they’re not sisters for real?” she replied. I had to admit, I didn’t have an answer.

The kiss got more passionate. Their hands started roaming. I felt like I should stop the movie, this weird film Dad left for us to watch, but it was like the cliche of the train wreck: I couldn’t look away, and apparently neither could Allie.

The scene got more intense as legs were spread and fingers started exploring, just like mine do when I pleasure myself sometimes after everyone else in the house has gone to sleep.

Allie watched, eyes wide, occasionally letting out a gasp as things continued to progress to points I’d never even considered. There were moans of pleasure, louder and louder, shuddering cries as the girls drew climaxes out of one another that seemed far larger and longer and more exaggerated than any I’d ever managed to work out of myself.

Drained, the two girls wrapped their arms around one another and slowly sank to the floor of the shower with the water still running. Their lips met one last time, and the screen faded to black. I looked over at the clock: twenty-six minutes had elapsed since we started the video and I hadn’t even noticed.

I glanced over at Allie to see her staring back at me. “Did we seriously just watch that?” she asked.

I felt the red creeping into my face, but I didn’t feel too bad since she was bright crimson herself. “Uh-huh,” I managed.

Allie turned back to the screen which flickered to blue as the player turned itself off. “That was…”

I swallowed, wishing I had brought my water in with me. My heart was racing. Why, I wondered, did Dad of all people have a movie like that? “Weird?” I finished for her.

“Well, maltepe escort bayan yeah, weird I guess, but…” She brushed a hand across her forehead. “I don’t know. I kind of liked it.” She rolled over facing me fully. “And don’t even try to say you didn’t, ’cause you were the one with the remote.”

Did I have the remote? I looked down, and sure enough, it was right there in my hand. I could have turned it off. I could have hit ‘Stop’ any time I wanted to, and probably should have as soon as I realized what was going on. But I hadn’t. I didn’t stop, or fast-forward, or anything. I just watched. “That’s not fair,” I said. “You seemed so into it, I didn’t want to shut it off.”

She poked me in the ribs. “So it’s all my fault, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said. “If you hadn’t wanted to look in Dad’s room…”

She sat up and fanned herself with her hand. “But I did. And you found it. And we watched it.” She looked back at me. “And now you can’t admit you enjoyed it.”

“Look, I’m not saying-“

She didn’t let me finish. Before I could complete my thought, Allie rolled over on top of me, straddling my hips, pinning my shoulders to the bed with her hands. “Why won’t you admit it, hmmm?”

“Allie, get off me, seriously.”

“Sure. Just say you liked it.”

I was trying not to think about it, but with her goading me on my brain just kept replaying it. Watching the two of them strip…

“Admit it, Kara.”

…step into the shower, turn on the water…

“It’s simple. ‘I like it.’ Three little words.”

…a massage that led to a kiss…that forbidden kiss…

Allie dug her fingers under my arms and started to tickle me. “Come on…”

…and then…and then…

She bent over further, and I swear to God I wasn’t looking, but the front of her loose-fitting tank top was hanging off her neck, and the light fell just the right way, and she was right down in my face, so I leaned up and God help me, I did the only thing I could think about doing, because the memory of the two girls on the video doing it right at the end was so fresh.

I put my lips against hers.



I kissed her. My own sister.

As soon as my brain caught up with me, I freaked out. I pulled myself away from her, eyes wide, the babble of an apology stuttering all around my throat but completely unable to find any traction so it could pull itself out.

Allie stiffened, looking down at me, right into my eyes, and I couldn’t blink, I couldn’t look away, because I knew I deserved that look. Whatever she was going to do, whatever she was going to say, I braced myself for it and I knew that no matter what she told me, no matter what disgusting names she called me, no matter how long she blackmailed me and held that two seconds’ worth of a mistake over my head, there couldn’t be any apologies, any backpedaling, any explaining things away. I deserved it. I watched her inhale, and waited like a condemned prisoner, listening for the executioner to order the firing squad to shoot.

“That…that wasn’t…” She stammered, which made me feel worse.

“Allie, look-“

“…what I expected…my first kiss…would feel like,” she finished quietly.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” I blurted.

A half-smile broke onto her face. “It’s…it’s OK, Kara, I’m not…not mad or anything…just…” She looked past me, staring through the blankets, the mattress, the floor below.

“Listen, Allie, I’m so… Just, just tell me what you want, anything, and I’ll do it, anything you want. I’ll make this right.”

“You don’t have to make it right,” she said. “How did it feel?”

“Feel? Allie, it was weird, it wasn’t-” ‘Right?’ Was that what I nearly said before I stopped myself? What made it that way? I started to push myself up, but she put her hands back on my shoulders.

“You want to make it up to me, then answer my question: how did it feel, Kara? Compared to Ryan, how did it feel?”

“You… I can’t compare the two, Allie! Ryan was my boyfriend for like two weeks, and that kiss didn’t mean anything because he started it, I didn’t really want it, and for a first kiss it honestly kind of sucked.”

“So yours ‘sucked’ and mine was ‘weird’.” She sighed and fell silent, staring off into space.

I was, officially, the worst person in the world.

Finally she looked back at me. “Maybe we could fix it.”


“Let’s fix it. For both of us. Just once. I won’t tell, you won’t tell, let’s get the first kiss we both really wanted. And it’ll be our little secret.”

Somewhere in my head, my brain tried throwing a circuit breaker. My little sister was sitting on me, asking for a kiss, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt, and what it must have felt like for the two girls in the movie, but how they couldn’t have felt quite this way about it because they were just actors and Allie and I were, you know, actually related.

I took a deep breath. “OK,” I said, not giving myself time to argue. “Before I change my mind. Close your eyes. How did you imagine it should go?” I took off my glasses, folded and placed them on the nightstand, and ran a hand through my hair because that’s always what people in the movies do and it seemed as good an idea as any. “You want to be on top?”

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