My Friends the Allens -- Old Friends by Mark Aster = = = Note: this story contains graphic accounts of sexual relations between closely-related consenting adults of the same sex. If you are a minor, a U.S. Senator, or anyone else whose brain implodes when exposed to such things, stop reading now, and go take a cold shower. If you live in a jurisdiction where it is illegal to read or distribute such materials, I feel your pain: consider moving. = = = I was asleep. After a hard day at the plant and a solitary dinner, I had come over to the Allens' for dessert. Nineteen year old Julie was out for the evening, and her older sister Pat was alone, and grateful for the company. We sat around and talked after ice cream, and for a change I managed to keep my hands off of her. We settled down in the living room, and as she sat on the couch reading something by Ginsberg, I'd fallen asleep in the armchair. I'd been vaguely aware of it when she turned out the lights and left the room, and then again when she came back in, in some flowing silken thing, and started to read again with a tiny reading lamp. Soft female voices brought me almost awake. I rested comfortably in that hazy place on the edge of dreaming. I may have opened my eyes now and then, or I may just have dreamed a dream to match what I was hearing. "Hi, Pat!" "Hi, Little Sister! How was the party?" "Oh, you know. Tanya and Midori and the usual. Too much politics, not enough sex." A soft laugh. "I see you have company." The couch creaks. Julie, in jeans and a t-shirt, is curled up on the couch beside Pat, her legs tucked under. The yellow circle of the reading lamp just lights their faces. They are relaxed, smiling; two women so similar, so different. "Yeah," Pat's voice, soft in the darkness, "he just now stopped snoring." Julie giggles. "Is he staying the night?" "Looks like it," says Pat, "We didn't make any plans." "We could go wake him up," Julie suggests, with a sinister little laugh. "Nah, he's tired, let him sleep. Men need their rest." Cloth rustles. "Is that your new nightgown? It's lovely. You look fantastic in it." "Thanks." A long silence. The reading lamp clicks off. "Isn't the moonlight gorgeous?" Another interesting silence. Julie cuddles on her sister's shoulder. Pat is looking out the window at the moon. Julie is looking up at Pat's face; the moon outlines her cheekbones with radiance. Pat turns to look at Julie, and Julie tilts her head. They kiss, lightly and tenderly. Julie closes her eyes. They kiss again, lips just touching lips, no pressure, their breath the only sound in the room. Pat caresses her sister's shoulder lightly with one hand, giving her the gentlest of hugs. Julie sighs and opens her eyes. "Do you really think he'll make a good father?" she whispers. "Yeah, I think so," answers Pat. "Sometimes he reminds me of Dad. Did you know his favorite ice cream is pistachio?" "Just like Dad," says Julie. She runs one hand lightly up Pat's chest, and then up the side of her face, touching her sister's jaw, the line of her cheek, her temple. "Remember that time at the Iowa fair, when he tried to get us to eat it?" Pat grins broadly, and Julie touches her lips. "GREEN ICE CREAM??" they whisper together, imitating a childish shout. And they laugh and hug on the couch. Cloth rustles again. Skin touches skin. Another kiss. Julie sighs. "I gotta pee." Pat strokes her hair, "You should have thought of that before we left, young lady." As Julie gets up and heads for the bathroom, Pat swats her on the bottom. Then she switches the book-light back on. Julie is back, standing in front of the couch, her skin softly lit by the lamp. Her jeans and t-shirt are gone; the pink curves of her bare stomach and thighs frame her innocent white panty. Her breasts are small and round, pink-tipped and smooth in the gentle light. Pat holds out her hand, and Julie steps forward, pressing her body against her sister's fingers. "You'll be cold," Pat whispers. Julie smiles. "I don't think so." She steps forward, and her sister's hand slides up her side, to the side of her breast. "That bruise is almost gone," says Pat. "Mm-hmm." Julie wriggles just a bit, playful, provocative, moving her skin under Pat's palm. Pat grins and draws her another step closer. She cups Julie's breast. "So pretty," she whispers. She takes the nipple into her mouth. Her full lips close over the flushed skin of her sister's breast. Julie stands for a long moment, her hands on Pat's shoulders, her head back, her sister's head at her chest. The yellow light of the lamp frames them in the darkness. Then she sighs and plops down on the couch, almost in Pat's lap. Their lips touch again, still calm and patient, mouths closed. Pat strokes her sister's back. "I love your mouth," Julie breathes. "I love you," comes the soft reply. Pat parts her lips slightly, and closes them gently over Julie's. Julie gives a high little moan and sinks into her arms. She nuzzles her neck, and her small soft hands move up over the silk robe, cupping Pat's full firm breasts and circling the hidden nipples. Pat turns off the lamp. "Alex wants us to talk to Miranda for him," Julie says lazily, as Pat's nipples slowly come erect. Pat's head is tilted back, her eyes closed. She ruffles Julie's hair. "About time," she breathes. Julie reaches down and unties Pat's robe. The silk flows like water off of Pat's skin. Her collarbones, her chest, the heavy curves of her naked breasts shine downy and shadowed in the moonlight. Julie purses her lips and lightly kisses her sister's right nipple, which stands firm and erect on the smooth warm mound. They lie together for a long time, Pat looking out the window at the moon, Julie stroking her stomach and toying with the highest curls of her dark pubic hair. Their voices come to me indistinctly, talking about nothing, laughing at familiar jokes. Then Pat puts her hands on her sister's cheeks and turns her face up to her own. Their kiss is longer this time, less patient, more passionate. Pat's tongue slides into her sister's mouth, and Julie moans deep in her throat. Julie's hand strays down her sister's stomach as her lips caress the exploring tongue. Slowly she strokes Pat's mons, and Pat's hips rock gently; her breathing is deeper, slightly rough. As they kiss again, mouths open and eyes closed, Julie's fingers slide down, between her sister's thighs. Pat sighs deeply and settles back on the couch. Pat's legs are apart, her hands on Julie's shoulders. Julie kneels on the rug, her face buried in her sister's fragrant vulva. Slowly and quietly, she brings Pat to the edge of orgasm with her fingers and tongue. Pat's breasts rise and fall with the hot silent ecstasy of her breathing. Then, as she comes, her head rocks from side to side on the cushions, and she gasps. At the peak of her orgasm, Julie reaches one hand up and rolls her left nipple between two fingers. Pat comes for a long time, her body sliding back down to earth in long waves of pleasure. A moment of stillness, and then she raises her sister up, kisses her mouth, her nose, her forehead, and they cuddle together again on the couch. Low whispers. Pat's hands begin to move over Julie's slender body. Julie is lying back on the couch, her skin pale in the moonlight. Her sister bends over her like a shadow, her lips and hands touching her, teasing her, soothing and exciting her. Pat's mouth closes over hers, and Pat's hand slips under her panty. Julie arches her back and moans into her sister's mouth. Pat moves more urgently over Julie. Gradually, she becomes less gentle, more tenderly violent. Two of her fingers slide in and out of Julie's vagina, opening her deeply. Her palm rubs Julie's clitoris. Julie's thighs are spread wide, her arms are out, her hands clutch at the cushions. Then gentleness returns; Pat's fingers slow down. I hear the moist sound of her tongue caressing Julie's nipples, her lips kissing her neck. Julie sighs, and gasps, and moans, and as her sister's lips close again over hers, she comes, Pat's fingers deep inside her, stroking lovingly. Her body bucks against Pat's hands, she screams into Pat's mouth, she moans, and then she is still. She puts her arms around Pat's neck and kisses her, and for a moment they lie, pressed body to body, their breaths mingling. Then they fall back, separate and lovely in the pale light. "Oooohhhh..." whispers Julie. "Oooohhhh, indeed," agrees Pat, smiling. "You're a good sister." "You're a very good sister." Silence. Moonlight. The smell of love. "You know he's awake." "Yeah, but maybe if we're real quiet he'll go back to sleep." A giggle. I smile to myself, and eventually I go back to sleep. My dreams are soft and hot and sexy. My Friends the Allens -- Old Friends by Mark Aster The End