Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Reflection By: IM Libertine Codes: ff, incest, romance, masturbation, nosex (C) 2015 IM Libertine, all rights reserved. This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or places is entirely coincidental. The author does not condone any sort of sexual intimacy between children, especially siblings. -1 I think it all started when Carter came to live with us. Carter was my cousin, my Mom's sister's only son. Not long after his mother passed away in a car wreck, he came to stay with us. Mom told us it was only supposed to be a temporary thing, but, he ended up living with us until he graduated High School. Carter was ten at the time, Jamie and I eleven. We hated the idea of having him live with us. We didn't need any boys stinking up our house, we thought, and protested the arrangement until we turned blue in the face. Not that it made any difference, Mom put her foot down, told us to be civil to our cousin, and that, as they say, was that. It's not like we hated Carter mind you. It's just that Jamie and I had a certain habit - some might even have called it a vice - that naturally precluded others. During our alone time we'd often pleasure each other. To us it wasn't anything sexual, not in those days, but it was a kind of therapeutic bonding. When one of us felt stressed or angry or just plain blue, the other would sit her down, hug her from behind, and gently stroke her privates until she felt better. Then, most of the time, we'd switch off and return the favor. There wasn't any kissing or or grinding, no dirty talk, not even any heavy breathing. I don't really remember when we started doing it, fondling each other that is; probably when we were toddlers or thereabout because I do remember the one time Mom caught us doing it. We were four or five years old and were spooning in the living room; I had my hand tucked into Jamie's pull-up, my fingers busily rubbing her clit when Mom came into the room and nearly shrieked. She scolded us until we cried and made us promise we'd never touch each other 'down there' again. We swore that we wouldn't, but it was a promise that only lasted until the next time one of us was feeling down. After that we were more discrete and only serviced each other in the privacy of our room with the door securely shut. So, the real reason we were against our cousin's living with us was that, sooner or later, 'the boy' would stumble in on us while we were in the middle of doing 'it'. We knew it was bound to happen and, of course, it eventually did. It happened about a week after Carter took over the spare bedroom. It was the start of mid term exams at our middle school and day one was math and history, my two worst subjects. My almost complete lack of studying the night before had come back to bite me in the ass. Jamie, on the other hand, was as happy as a hog in wallow; not only was she the family math wiz, she had also studied the night before. And so I was feeling petulant and chagrined, not to mention foolish as I lurched my way home in between her self satisfied gloating and her playful criticism. By the time we made it to our house I was ready to scream. I rammed my way through the front door, called out a halfhearted, 'We're home', to our mother, and huffed my way up the stairs to the room that Jamie and I shared, making sure to slam the door behind me with all the force I could muster. Afterward, I crumpled into a fetal position on my bed, turned my face to the wall, and did my best to resemble a miserable pile of contempt. Not long later, I heard the bedroom door open as Jamie entered. She didn't say anything as she shut the door behind herself and went about her after-school routine as if there wasn't a sister shaped lump of woe lying curled up just a few feet away. I heard her textbooks thump as she unceremoniously dumped the contents of her backpack onto her bed, then more thumps as she tossed those same textbooks on her desk in a haphazard pile. The purr of a zipper and a rustle of cloth as she lowered her knee length, blue and white plaid uniform skirt. The soft, almost silent sound of a white polo shirt slipping over her head. The creak of the closet door opening followed by the rattle of clothes hangers as she hung up her uniform. Her steady, casual tread as she crossed the room to my bed. I heard the creak of my bed-springs and felt the warmth of her body as she sat at my side. Jamie leaned over me and propped herself against my shoulder with one hand as she lowered her lips to within a hair's breadth of my ear. "Why are you mad," she asked, her voice at full volume. I stoically ignored the ringing in my ear and elected to remain silent, sure that my lack of speech would speak for me. Jamie sighed and heaved herself upright. "Geez Emilee, you're such a baby. If you'd study then you wouldn't have to worry so much." My reply was expelled from between my butt cheeks. I judged it to be somewhere between a quack and a growl, perfectly expressing my opinion on the subject. Just for laughs I muttered, "I fart in your general direction." I could almost hear Jamie's eyes roll as she said, "Real mature, sis." Jamie grabbed hold of my arm to pull my upright. I employed what little I knew about passive resistance and let my body go slack. She struggled against my dead weight a few seconds, actually managed to raise my torso a few inches above the bed, then released her grip and allowed my body to flop down on the mattress. Newtonian physics took over and finished the job; I bounced forward, the top of my head cracking against the solid oak headboard of my bed. "Ow, slut," I swore as I scrambled into a sitting position, one hand rubbing the back of my skull. I glowered at a reflection of myself. Jamie's hazel eyes peered out from beneath rough-cut bangs, her high cheekbones were adorned with a sprinkling of freckles; her medium-length, chestnut-brown hair flowed lazily down her shoulders. Her arms were crossed over her bare chest, her lips pulled into a smug grin. "Why are you so happy," I asked my twin. Had I been a snake I would have bit her; I still thought about biting her just out of spite. Jamie cocked her head to one side, tucked her hands under her chin and fluttered her eyes. "'Cause widdle Emiwee is sittin' up jus' wike a big girwew," she cooed. I favored Jamie with a glare of indignation, fell backward into the mattress, bounced and struck my head against the headboard a second time. I cursed loudly, grabbed the back of my head with both hands and resumed the fetal position; this time out of pain and outrage more than sorrow and contempt. "Go away," I grumbled. "Poo widdle Emiwee bump her widdle noggin," Jamie asked, still cooing. I raised my right hand and flipped her the bird. The day so far had gone from bad to worse, not only had I likely failed two exams, but now my sister was mocking me. The thought that my current situation was entirely of my own doing had briefly crossed my mind, but I chose not to dwell on it, preferring instead to sulk. If sulking were an art form then I'd be the Monet of sulk. Jamie huffed at my masterful sulking and knee-walked to the head of the bed. She sat cross legged with her back against the headboard, hooked her hands under my armpits, and heaved me towards her so my head was in her lap. "Come here, you big baby," she grunted. As she struggled to heft my body into a more or less upright posture the three sodas I had drank at lunch assisted me in saluting her efforts with a soft yet pungent symphony of brown-notes that would have impressed even Beethoven. Eat your heart out, Ludwig, I thought and impressed myself by not even cracking a grin. Once she had me in her lap, my head resting against her shoulder, Jamie muttered, "Why the hell are you such a moron?" "'Cause when we were born you sucked out all my brains and left me all the farts." The palm of Jamie's left hand smacked my forehead as the fingers of her right hand worked at the zipper of my skirt. I gave up resisting. Might as well get this over with, I reasoned; either way she'd eventually have her hand in my panties. Jamie at last got the zipper undone and pushed my skirt down my hips, then used her toes to shove it down to my knees. I kicked the skirt off and watched as it landed on the floor. Without any coaxing I raised my knees and parted my thighs. Jamie lowered her hand to my panties, the tips of her fingers light as feathers as they danced across the soft cotton. I breathed a deeply as her fingertips traveled up my inner thigh, felt the stress melt away as they reversed course and returned to dancing across my panties. With a soft, easy stroke up the opposite thigh she washed away my worries. My head lolled, my shoulders slumped, my pulse slowed. I was completely at ease the time Jamie's fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my panties, yet her ministrations continued. She cupped my vulva with her hand, squeezed gently, then slipped a finger between my labia. The tip of a finger toyed with my clitoris, tenderly slid down one side and up the other in a slow, lazy circle. Jamie rested her chin on my shoulder. "All better," she asked, her voice a sweet whisper. I hummed my approval. I was about to suggest a that we swap places when I heard the click of the doorknob. I watched in alarm as the door began to swing inward. Behind me, Jamie gasped, shouted, "Don't come in!" Too late. There at the door stood Carter, his hand still clasping the doorknob, his eyes round as saucers. -2 The first Saturday of the month was special for Jamie and me, it was the day the Mom, with her infinite kindness, gave us our allowance. We'd get thirty dollars to divvy between the two of us in the form of three ten dollar bills. The money was meant to last us a month, but making it stretch for even a day was, for us, a monumental task. After buying chilli dogs at the neighborhood diner, fashion magazines at the market, lip balm and nail polish at the shopping center, and other assorted necessities from the various establishments that catered to our interests, we'd usually find ourselves strapped for cash within four hours; if we did have some spare change left jingling in our purse, it'd be gleefully donated to the local arcade. On Allowance Day Jamie and I would wake up extra early and plan how best to spend our windfall. At six AM we'd be huddled over our desk wearing nothing but our panties, excitedly bickering over which shop we'd hit first. There were times when we could to come to an agreement with a minimum of violence, but these meetings would often erupt into all out war, complete with hair pulling and panty snapping. This morning's meeting was already becoming turbulent. Jamie was sitting in the desk chair, a scrap of notebook paper in front of her and a pencil in hand. I stood alongside, my index finger jabbing at the latest entry to the itinerary. "If we don't go the donut shop first, they'll be all out of eclairs," I said. I had a special place in my heart for the deep-fried, cream filled, chocolate drenched treats, one about four inches long, two inches wide, and woefully devoid of sugar. I was convinced that without my monthly quota of greasy delicacies I would shrivel up and vanish. "But if we don't go to the store first thing," Jamie replied, referring to the local grocery, "We'll miss out on the Saver stamps." I rolled my eyes at my twin's slavish devotion to the groceries' Super Saver promotion. If customers made their purchases before ten AM then, for every ten dollars they spent, they'd get a stamp to paste their Super Saver book. With enough stamps they could turn the book in for an item from the Super Saver catalogue. Jamie had been saving stamps for almost a year, drooling over the Madame Mystique Makeup Kit which came complete with eleven shades of eyeshadow, six tubes if lipstick, a tube of Simply Satiny skin cream, waterproof mascara, and enough foundation and blush to paint a circus clown; a bargain at just one-hundred-and-twenty-five stamps, or so Jamie fervently believed. I considered it to be just another gimmick to get all the eleven year old girls in the neighborhood to blow their hard earned allowance before ten in the morning, thereby depriving them of their eclairs. "Look," I said testily, "We get our allowance at eight, right?" Jamie glanced up and gave me a small nod. "Right. If we go to the donut shop first, then to the store, you'll still have time to get your Super Slaver stamp." "Super Saver," Jamie corrected. "Whatever. Then we hit the diner for all you can eat dogs-" "No we don't, we'll still be full from the-" "No we won't," I said, giving her a push for interrupting me. "Yes we will, pig-zilla," Jamie said, returning my push. I growled at her and grabbed hold of a lock of her chestnut-brown hair. "I. Am. Not. A. Pig." I emphasized each word with a yank. "Ow! You sure eat like one, the way you hog all the donuts and hot dogs," Jamie replied. She reached over, grabbed the waistband of my panties and stretched it a good three inches before letting go. I grunted with anger, let go of her lock in favor of snatching a handful of hair at the crown of her head. I pulled her head back, leaned in and shouted, "Better a swine than a clown." Our faces were close enough to kiss, my hair hanging down on either side of Jamie's face. She grabbed hold of it and yanked downward with enough force for our foreheads to bang together. "If you hate makeup so much then why don't you get a sex change," she countered. "Maybe I will," I raged, giving her hair an extra hard pull, payment for the bump on the head. "Then you can blow me." "Blow this," she yelled, grabbed hold of one of my nipples and twisted, hard. I fairly screamed in outrage, centered her nose between my teeth and was about to bite down when the door to our room slammed open. Mom stood in the doorway, dressed in her knee-length, paisley nightgown; her shoulder-length, burgundy hair sleep tangled, her sapphire blue eyes rimmed with red, her lips pulled into an angry line. Jamie and I disentangled ourselves and cowered beneath her furious glare. "If you two don't can it, right now, there will be no allowance." Mom's words were foreboding and underlined with scorn. Jamie and I meekly returned to our separate beds, sat down with our heads hanging low, and muttered a mutual, "Yes, ma'am." We winced as the door slammed closed, the ogre contented and off to sleep for another hour. We glanced up at each other sheepishly. Jamie was grinning, I gave her a lopsided smirk. We couldn't help ourselves; we broke down into a fit of giggles, sharing the relief of having evaded execution for one more day. -- At eight-o-five we were out the door, Jamie and I off to the donut shop, Mom and Carter off to complete a list of chores. "Be back by four," Mom admonished, her voice still weary. Not only was she a single mother, caring for twin girls and an adopted nephew, she also worked two jobs and somehow found time to knit sweaters, caps, and gloves for sale to the neighbors. The fact that we never wanted for anything was a testament to immense will and her love for us three. Mom and Carter clambered into the family sedan as Jamie and I began jogging down the sidewalk. The donut shop was some four blocks down the road and, if we wanted to have our breakfast and still make it to the grocery before ten, we'd have to hoof it. "If you'd have gotten Mom to fix that flat on your bike," Jamie huffed as she pumped her legs, "Then we wouldn't have to run." "I can do it myself," I said, pointedly looking anywhere but at my sister. In truth, I had meant to fix the tire the night before, but I had gotten so excited about Allowance Day that doing so had completely slipped my mind. I could feel Jamie's eyes bore into me as we loped along. "You forgot, didn't you?" "I didn't," I said, still looking the other way. "I just didn't have time." "You totally forgot," she grumbled. We jogged, Jamie complaining about how we could have had time to engage in all sorts of fanciful money spending activities if only I wasn't such an airhead, me steadily ignoring her and rubber necking at various points of interest in the neighborhood. There was old Mrs. Thompson's house, painted lime green, the windows barred and shuttered tight. She was a lady of about sixty with silver hair worn in a bun, a huge, warty nose, and cat's eye glasses who all the latest styles of the fifties. Everyone thought she was a little batty and, more than once, I had caught her, from the corner of my eye, staring at my backside. If ever there was a casting for Hansel and Gretel, I thought, Mrs. Thompson would be a shoe-in for the witch. Then there was Mr. Davinski's house, a stolid, gray brick structure hidden behind a tall hedge. Mr. Davinski was a portly, well dressed man of about fifty or so with a bald head and little, piggy eyes, and spoke with a thick accent. Mom said he was from Russia or Romania or some other country that started win an 'R' or ended with 'ia', I couldn't recall which exactly. He had a habit of hanging out at the grocery and dolling out quarters to the 'sweet lil' filles' and 'strapping young laddies', as he would put it. I'd heard rumors that, sometimes, those quarters came along with a grope to the bottom, especially if the kid's parents were looking the other way. A little further down the road was the Parkinson's house; they were a couple in their forties who were famous for having a pool in their back yard. In the summer time they'd hold lavish parties and invite the entire neighborhood, except for the children, much to our ire. The gossip around school was that they were secretly part of the mob, and that their parties were in reality recruitment drives. We made it to the donut shop by a quarter to nine, both of us huffing a bit from our jog but still energetic enough to shoulder each other a bit as we went through the door into the cool, air conditioned interior of the shop. From the outside the place was nondescript, the only clue as to what the shop sold being a vinyl banner across the front of the building which read 'donuts' in red block letters. Inside, however, the shop was nice, decorated with an Indian motif and with pictures of women in elaborate dress. A large plaster cast of one of the Hindu deities sat on the glass display case beside the register, a figure with the head of an elephant. At the register stood the proprietor's teenage daughter, about fourteen and breathtakingly pretty with long, straight black hair that hung down to her hips, dark eyes, and olive complexion. She favored us with a dazzling smile as we pushed through the door and greeted us warmly as we made our way to the counter to pick out our treats. We exchanged pleasantries and then got down to business. Jamie selected two glazed ring donuts while I made a bee line to the eclairs. I gazed beneath the glass at the two remaining eclairs, stood for a minute and devoured them with my eyes. Hello my pretties, I thought, nice to eat you. When the girl had finished up filling Jamie's order, she made her way down the counter to where I stood. She was a couple of inches taller than I and I somehow couldn't help noticing how her small boobs pushed out the front of the green apron which overlaid her white blouse. I wondered idly if she was wearing a bra, found myself imagining her wearing a white, lacy thing like the bras the women wore in Jamie's fashion magazines, the frilly material allowing just a hint of the underlying skin to peak through. I must have been staring because I heard Jamie clear her throat and the counter girl, Jaya by the badge pinned to the front of her apron, giggle. I glanced up into Jaya's eyes and felt myself blush heavily; her eyes smiled back at me as she asked what I wanted. "Eclairs," I stuttered as I jabbed a finger at the sweets, my eyes still locked on hers. I felt trapped by her gaze, like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. She nodded, said, "You like them, don't you," as she fetched a foam plate. Her voice was smooth and mellow, the sound of wind through harp-strings, or so I imagined. "Mmm hmm," I hummed as she plated the eclairs, then blurted, "I love them." Jaya set the plate on the counter and leaned across, her eyes on mine and sparkling with mirth as she rested on her elbows, her face even with mine. "You'll have some too, when you get older," she said, her voice perfectly even, her lips curved into a sweet grin. My jaw nearly hit the floor as I realized what she was talking about. I felt my face go hot and my heart leap in my chest. I tried to say that I had been talking about the eclairs, but all that came out of my mouth was a string of gibberish. Beside me, Jamie sighed, hooked onto my arm with her hand and dragged me away from the counter to one of the tables at the front of the store. Once I was more or less seated, she went to the register to pay for our food, then carried the plates back to our table. She set her own down and flopped mine down in front of me. "Why are you so stupid," Jamie asked as she took her seat. I picked up an eclair and nibbled at it. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Jaya went about her work, her back to us. The apron she wore hugged her figure and my eyes traced the graceful lines of her body. Her hips were curvy, her butt was shapely beneath her jeans. "Hey," Jamie barked, making me jump and bringing my focus back to her. "What's the matter with you?" She was glaring at me. I shrugged and muttered, "I dunno." I was feeling nervous and exited and queer. I resumed nibbling my eclair, glanced to the counter and was half relieved, half disappointed to see that Jaya had retreated to the back of the shop. We continued our breakfast in silence, Jamie looking out the shop window, me stealing glances to the back of the shop. I had just started in on my second eclair when I heard Jamie grumble under her breath. "What," I asked, my attention back on my sister. She had finished both of her donuts and was sitting hunched forward, her chin cupped in her hand. "I said, hurry up. We're going to miss the stamps." Her voice was hollow and low, her eyes still focused outside. I sat there a moment, watching her. I thought about asking why she was being so distant, but then blew it off as her being upset that I was taking so long to finish my food. I plucked a couple of napkins from the dispenser at the edge of the table and wrapped my remaining eclair in it. "Well, I'm ready if you are," I said, standing up from the table as I spoke. Jamie stood, collecting our plates as she did so. She glanced at me briefly as she made for the waste basket then did a double take when she noticed the my napkin wrapped leftovers. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "You aren't going to eat it?" I grinned at her and shook my head. "We're in a hurry, right," I said, walking past her toward the entrance. "Besides," I added, "I thought maybe I'd control myself for once," From behind me Jamie asked, "Do you thinks she's pretty?" "Huh?" I turned back toward my sister and stared mutely at her. For the second time my jaw nearly hit the floor. We stood there for half a minute, me with my mouth hanging open, Jamie still frowning. She stared into my eyes, and when I failed to answer she repeated, "Do you think she's pretty?" Her voice was serious and demanding. I blinked and looked away, toward the back of the room. "I guess so," I mumbled, feeling awkward at having had to admit it. Jamie's close scrutiny was making me nervous and her insistence on me telling her if I thought Jaya was pretty baffled me. When I looked back, Jamie was gone; she had deposited the plates in the trash and was at the entrance. She forced her way through the door, her eyes glassy and her jaw set. "Hey," I said, rushing after her. I hit the door as it was swinging closed anhd grunted in annoyance at the stinging in my palms when they connected with the glass. Jamie was stalking away, almost stomping her way along the sidewalk. "Hey," I repeated as I jogged to catch up with her. I reached her side and slowed to match her pace. Her face was cloudy and her hands were clenched into tight balls. "What's wrong," I asked. Jamie's glare pierced through me, causing me to flinch. "Nothing," she intoned flatly, then faced forward again, her body still rigid. "Not nothing," I said. I placed a hand on her arm and asked, "Why are you mad?" Jamie stopped and turned on me; for a moment I thought she was going to hit hit me and I flinched back. Almost immediately her face softened and her body relaxed. She stepped back and lowered her eyes. I watched as a mixture of emotions flashed across my sister's face, finally settling on a look of embarrassment. "Sorry," she said, her voice soft. A minute passed as we stood silent, neither of us meeting the others gaze. Eventually I turned to Jamie and pulled her into an embrace, rested my chin on her shoulder and said a quiet, "I'm sorry." I could feel her heartbeat against my chest as I hugged her, a faint, fluttering drumbeat. She placed her hands on my hips and gently pushed me away. "You didn't..." she faltered. Her eyes we still focused on the ground, her body limp and her face flushed. At last she said, "You didn't do anything." A look of loneliness passed over her features as she turned away and resumed walking. I stood there for a while, wondering what it was that had happened to cause Jamie to act that way, retracing our steps, trying to identify the one thing I had done or said to provoke her. Jaya, entered my mind, but I quickly dismissed the thought as being outlandish. Why, I wondered, would Jamie be angry if I liked Jaya? I banished the thought and hurried after my twin.