Message-ID: <60234asstr$1272593402@assm.asstr.org>
From: Shalon Wood <dstar@pele.cx>
Subject: {ASSM} For Amy 1/3 (ff, incest, mf, mff)
Lines: 1289
Date: Thu, 29 Apr 2010 22:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Standard disclaimers apply; this story may or may not contain, in any
given part, graphic depictions of lesbianism, homosexuality, group sex,
bdsm, underage (teen) sex, magic, occultism, violence, and biting 
sarcasm.  If you're underage, or if for any other reason it's illegal 
for you to read this, or you're disturbed by the content, please don't 
read it.

Archived at http://foramy.playground.pele.cx, and we've got a web-forum at
http://playground.pele.cx/forums as well, for discussion of both
Pandora and our other stories. 

Comments *greatly* appreciated.

Enjoy,
dstar
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have always loved her.

My earliest memory is of her laughter as we watched cartoons on Saturday
morning, wrapped up in our blankets with bowls of cereal in front of us,
her golden curls dangling down her cheeks.

I knew then that I wanted to make her laugh like that.

We never fought. Sibling rivalry is so commonplace that it's a cliche, but
we never fought. Why would we? There wasn't any rivalry; she was the one in
charge, and I was perfectly happy with that state of affairs. We did what
she wanted, when she wanted it, the way she wanted to do it.

We didn't realize there was anything unusual about it until we started
kindergarten, and started visiting friends, seeing the way they fought with
their siblings. The first time we saw one of our friends tell her little
brother to go away and leave us alone, we were stunned. It was completely
unexpected; we'd seen that sort of thing on television shows, but we didn't
think it actually happened in real life.

"Sue?" Amy asked that night, turning over to face me in our bed
(technically, I had my own bed, but I never used it for anything more than
a place to stack my books). "Why did Gwen... why was she so mean to her
brother?"

I didn't have an answer for her, of course. If anything, I was even less
equipped to understand than she was. The thought of Amy telling me to go
away like that, with the utter contempt in her voice that Gwen had
displayed, made my stomach twist in dread. I swallowed, trying to speak,
but nothing would come out.

"Promise me we'll never be like that," Amy said. "Promise we'll always be
like we are now."

"I promise," I said.

I knew, even then, that I loved my sister. I didn't understand-- neither of
us understood-- that we would be expected to go our separate ways. All we
knew was that we always wanted to be together.

***

When you're four, or five, or six, there's not much difference between
sibling love and romantic love, even if you know the two aren't the same.
We didn't, of course. We saw how our parents treated each other, and took
it as our model for the way we should act.

It would have been harder on us if we'd been separated at school, but we
weren't. We were only ten months apart, and Amy's birthday was too late in
the year to start before me-- thankfully.

As we got older, we began to understand the difference between the two
types of love, at least in theory if not in practice. It wasn't until we
were eleven-- barely so, in my case-- that we really experienced the
difference.

***

Amy had been vibrating with excitement all evening, ever since her shower
immediately before supper. She'd tripped and fallen in the mud on her way
into the house, and our mother had sent her straight in to wash her hair.

"What's going on?" I asked her.

She blushed. (Have I mentioned that Amy is utterly adorable when she
blushes? She is. I think that was the first time I really noticed it.)

"I'll show you later," she whispered.

She refused to say anything more, no matter how much I begged. By the time
our bedtime came around, I was almost as excited as she was. As soon as the
door closed behind our mother, I rolled over to face her.

"Okay, spill!" I said, raising up on my elbow.

"You know how Mom had me use her shower?" Amy asked. Even in the dim light,
I could see her red cheeks.

"Right..." I said, confused. Our mother occasionally allowed us to use our
parents' shower; it was a lot nicer than ours, but I couldn't understand
why it would cause a reaction like this.

"You know how the shower thing is on a hose? Well, I was washing the mud
off with it, and I went to wash off, you know, down there, and... wow!"

"Wow?" I asked, not understanding.

She nodded firmly. "_Wow_!" she repeated. "I hit this spot and... wow! It
felt _good_!"

"Good?"

"Like... like...." Her face screwed up as she tried to think of a way to
describe it. If anything, her 'thinking face' is even cuter than her blush,
and I felt a strange tightness in my chest at the sight. "It's just...
really good."

"I don't get it," I said.

"It's just... it's... I can't explain it," she said, frustrated. "Maybe I
should just show you."

"Okay," I said, curious.

"Take off your panties and sit up so you can see," Amy said.

I squirmed around, getting my panties off, and sat up, but my legs were
blocking the light coming in from the window. "It's too dark," I said.

Amy leaned forward, placing one hand on my thigh and tugging it to the
side, trying to get it out of the way. "This isn't going to work," she
said, frowning. "Turn around so that you're leaning back against the wall
and facing the window. That should work."

"Okay," I said, feeling like I couldn't catch my breath. I wriggled around
until the light from the window was shining on my legs.

"Perfect!" Amy said, putting her hands on my knees and pushing them apart,
until my legs were spread and I was completely exposed. My pulse pounded in
my ears as she reached for me. "There's a spot right up here at the top--"

I gasped and jerked as her finger touched a little bump at the top of my
privates. "Oh!"

She froze. "Did I hurt you?" she asked, looking up at me.

"No!" I said, grabbing for her hand before she could pull it away. "Don't
stop!"

"Oh," she said, giving me a smug smile. "You like?"

I couldn't answer her. I'd stiffened, every muscle in my body tightening as
my world narrowed to two points. Amy's face, and the finger that was gently
stroking between my legs. There was something just out of my grasp; I
didn't know what it was, but it was there, and I needed it desperately.

My eyes were locked on Amy's. Their brilliant green was hidden in the
shadows cast from the light behind her, but somehow I knew they were
focused on me. "Isn't it good?" she asked, her voice husky. "Can you feel
it?"

I nodded jerkily. It was all I could manage, my hands grabbing the sheets
and twisting them.

"God, you're beautiful like this," Amy said.

That was all I needed. My back arched as my first orgasm swept over me,
exploding out from where her finger was still gently stroking, waves of
pleasure sweeping through my body. I bit my lip as my hips bucked and
twisted, my eyes never leaving Amy's face as I came, hard.

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer, grabbing her hand and pulling it
away. "Too much," I said, sucking in a huge breath. "Oh, wow... that was...
wow."

Amy's smile hadn't faltered since I first told her not to stop. Now, it
turned mischievous.

"See why I couldn't describe it?" she asked, squirming around to lean
against the wall beside me.

I nodded. "Yeah. It was... yeah. There's no way. Just... wow."

She leaned her head on my shoulder. "That was really... nice. I liked
making you feel like that. You looked... you looked beautiful, like I
said."

I licked my lips, tasting the blood where I'd broken the skin trying not to
scream when I came. "Can I... can I do it to you?" I asked, hoping she'd
let me.

She nodded jerkily. "I was hoping you'd want to," she said.

I rolled over onto my knees, still shaky, and looked up at her. Her eyes
were wide and hungry as she stared back at me, and it took my breath away
to see her looking at me like that.

I'd known I loved her, but now I understood _how_ I loved her.

Slowly, I leaned forward, cupping her cheeks in my hands. "I love you," I
whispered, just as my lips touched hers.

Objectively, our first kiss was clumsy and awkward. Neither of us knew what
to do, much less how to do it.

To this day, it remains the single most perfect moment of my life.

Her lips were soft and warm against mine, and her hand slid around the back
of my head, tangling in my hair, pulling me against her. I shifted around,
trying to find a position that would allow me to reach her more easily, and
my knee slipped between her thighs, pressing up against her.

She stiffened at the unexpected contact, and raised up against me, pressing
herself against my thigh. She was hot, and wet, moving against me, and then
she raised the leg I was straddling until it was pressed against me. She
looked at me, and I was lost.

"Together," Amy said, her breath coming in short little pants. "Let's do it
together." And then she kissed me again, but this time her tongue slipped
between my lips like we'd seen in movies. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want
to breathe. I didn't want to do anything but kiss her back, as her hips
rocked, leaving my thigh slick with her wetness.

Her movements were coming faster, and her hands slid down my back, cupping
my ass, pulling me to her hard, her fingernails digging in as her back
arched and she came with her mouth glued to mine.

I felt her fingernails sliding across my skin, leaving a burning trail, as
my leg slipped, causing me to slide down her thigh until her knee was
pressed up between my legs.

And I came.

My first orgasm had been good, but this... this was better. I didn't come
because I was rubbing against her; that was just the trigger.

I came because I'd made her come. And I wanted to do it again.

Amy whimpered as I rolled off of her. "Don't stop," she said. "Please...."

"I'm not stopping," I said, tugging at the hem of her nightgown where it
was bunched around her stomach. "I just want this off."

I'd seen her breasts before. Amy was almost a year older than me, and the
breast fairy had apparently gotten confused and visited her twice, because
even at not quite twelve years old she had B-cup breasts. I'd always
thought they were beautiful, just like the rest of her, but as the gown
slid over them I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. I couldn't
breathe for the sudden ache in my chest, and without thinking about it,
leaned over and kissed her nipple.

There aren't many things I'm jealous of Amy for. Right then, however, I
found one. In addition to being extremely spathic, Amy has extremely
sensitive nipples.

In fact, if she's turned on enough, she can come just by having them played
with. Or, in this case, kissed. Her back arched, and her hand grabbed the
back of my head, pressing me to her breast as she shuddered. I reached down
between her legs, stroking her the way she'd stroked me, and she came
again, bucking against my hand for several seconds before pushing me away.

"Too much," she said, her face flushed and her hair damp with sweat. She
tugged me up so that she could kiss me. "Wow. That was... wow."

I nodded. "Yeah. Just... wow." I bit my lip, hoping. "We're going to do it
again, right?"

Amy nodded rapidly. "Oh yeah. Just not right now."

"Oh, good," I said. "I really liked it."

"Me too." Amy licked her lips. "Me too."

***

We did, of course. Every night. Sometimes during the day, when we thought
we could get away with it. We knew instinctively that our parents wouldn't
approve, so we made sure they didn't find out, taking care to muffle our
voices and not make too much noise.

We were surprised to discover that it got _better_ as we learned what we
were doing. Neither of us had expected that to be possible, but it was.

Still, I wanted to find something to show Amy that would be as nice a
surprise as what she'd discovered. I was at a loss as to how I could do so,
until one Saturday about a month after our first time, when our mother put
Amy to work cleaning the kitchen, and me to work in the garage, having
decided that we'd be more likely to work rather than play if we were
separated.

I discovered, about a half-hour in, that there was a box of our father's
dirty magazines in with the other junk. I was curious, so I opened one of
them up, thinking maybe I should try to sneak it back to our room to show
Amy.

I nearly dropped it when I saw the picture of two women together, one with
her head between the other's legs, her tongue very clearly extended and
touching the other girl's privates. My first thought was, _That's _nasty._
That's where she pees! _

Then I thought about it again. Amy I and both had smooth fingers, but our
tongues were still softer. Experimentally, I ran my finger along the back
of my hand, then followed it with my tongue. The sensation was distinctly
different. _Hmm._ I thought about the way it would feel elsewhere.

_Oh. OH!_ I suddenly understood why someone would want to have it done to
them.

Amusingly, even though I still thought it was nasty, it never occurred to
me to wonder why someone would want to _do_ it. The instant I realized how
good it would feel, my nipples hardened and I squeezed my legs together. I
couldn't wait to lick Amy like that.

The next several hours were almost painful. I understood exactly how Amy
had felt that first night; waiting for it to be bedtime was almost
unbearable. On the other hand, I was worried, too-- what if she thought the
idea was gross? What if she thought I was sick for wanting to do it?

By the time supper was over, I was a nervous wreck. Our parents didn't
notice, but of course I couldn't hide it from Amy. Once we were in our
room, with the door closed, Amy rolled over to face me.

"Okay, spill," she said. "You've been bouncing around like you stuck your
finger in a light socket. What's up?"

I licked my lips. "Let me see your hand," I said, reaching for it.

"Okay?" she said, puzzled.

I ran a finger along her palm. "That feels kind of nice, right?" I asked.

She nodded, still puzzled, and I ran my tongue along the same path.

"That felt better, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Amy said.

I rolled over and slid my hand down between the wall and the bed, feeling
around for the magazine. After a couple of seconds, I pulled it out.
"Look--" My voice cracked, and I swallowed. "Look at this."

"Okay?" Amy opened the magazine to the bookmark I'd put in it, tilting it
so that it caught the light of the streetlight outside. "What's she--"

Amy stopped mid-sentence, her eyes wide, leaning closer to the magazine, as
if making sure she was seeing what she thought she was. My heart was
beating a thousand times a minute as I waited for her response. She
remained quiet, her hand shaking as she turned the page, looking at the
pictures on the next pages, something I hadn't done.

She licked her lips, and tilted it so I could see. "You-- you want to do
this?" she asked, pointing to the picture of the two women together, facing
in opposite directions with their heads between the other's legs.

I opened my mouth to respond, but my throat was too dry to actually speak.
I swallowed, my pulse pounding in my ears, and nodded.

"You-- you don't think it's... gross?" she said.

I swallowed again. "I-- I don't care. I-- you don't have to do it to me, I
just want to do it to you," I said, pleadingly. "It-- think about how
different my tongue felt than my finger did."

She swallowed, her eyes going even wider, and bit her lip uncertainly. "You
really want to?" she asked, her voice wavering.

I nodded, pleading with her with my eyes.

"And... and I don't have to do it to you?"

I shook my head. "I just... I want to make you feel good."

She bit her lip again, and then, slowly, nodded. "Okay. If I don't have to
do it to you."

I licked my lips, my mouth dry. "Okay. Um." I wasn't sure how to go about
it. "Okay. Maybe you could, um, lay down sideways, with your legs hanging
off the bed, and I could get down in the floor? That way, I can see what
I'm doing."

She nodded again, and squirmed around until her knees were hanging off the
bed, pulling her nightgown off as she did. I knelt down between her legs,
my hands shaking. "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Um, I'm not really
sure what I'm, you know, doing, I mean, other than the obvious--"

"Sue," Amy interrupted. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I mean,
it was your idea--"

"No!" I interrupted. "That's not...." I let out a deep breath. "I just want
to do it right. Make you feel good, like you did when you showed me how to
play with myself."

"Oh," Amy said, and before I knew what she was doing, she'd grabbed my arms
and pulled me up, kissing me. "Sue, you don't have to do something you
don't want... you _do_ make me feel good. Every time you touch me like
that."

"I know," I said. "And I want to. I just... what if I don't do it right?"

"Then we do what we've been doing," Amy said, kissing me again. "Or if
you'd rather, we can just do that anyway."

I shook my head. "No. I want to." I gave her a quick kiss, and slid back
down between her knees. "Okay." I took another deep breath. "If I do
something that doesn't feel good, let me know, okay?"

And, before I could lose my nerve, I leaned forward, stuck my tongue out,
and ran it along her pussy.

Amy let out a squeak, stiffening, and tried to squeeze her legs together
around my head. I stopped, worried that I'd hurt her.

"Was that bad?" I asked.

She stared at me, wide-eyed, and pulled her hand away from her mouth. "NO!
Oh... my... _GOD_. Do it again! Please!"

I couldn't have kept the smile off of my face if I'd tried, and I didn't. I
didn't bother answering her, either. I just lowered my head and started
licking.

I'd had more than my share of experiences which changed my life, even then.
This was another. That first lick along her pussy had been tentative, and
she hadn't been turned on. There hadn't been much taste, honestly, and her
reaction had kept me from paying it any attention.

Now, however... she was most definitely turned on, and by the third time my
tongue ran along her soft, crinkled labia I could definitely taste her. And
I knew I'd learned something important.

I _liked_ the taste of pussy. Or at least Amy's pussy. My eyes slid closed,
and I lost myself in the sensations, the taste of her juices, the soft,
silky feel of her thighs sliding over my cheeks as my head moved as I
licked her, the way her labia felt under my tongue.

I wanted more, more of the taste, more of the feel, more _everything_. I
worked the tip of my tongue in between her lips, and was instantly
rewarded... and then again, as my tongue reached the top and slid over her
little nub.

She squealed, the sound thankfully muted as she'd had the sense to cover
her mouth with her hand, and her hips bucked upwards. "Oh god," she said,
"Right there. Like that. God."

I didn't mean to tease her. I just wanted to taste her, so I kept
alternating, running my tongue around her clit, sliding down to lick,
actually pressing my tongue _into_ her as I lapped, then, when her whimpers
became insistent, moving back up to her clit until I couldn't resist
slipping back down.

Finally, she grabbed my head with her hands, a high, keening sound of
frustration, muffled by something, letting me know just how desperate she
was. Her fingers pulled on my hair, painfully, pulling me up and holding my
mouth right there on her clit.

I would have said, had anyone asked, that having my hair pulled would have
broken the mood. It didn't. I was already almost as turned on as she was;
if I had had a hand free, I'd probably have come at least once by then. I
didn't, unfortunately, as I needed them to hold myself in place, which
meant I wanted to come as badly as she did.

And when she yanked on my hair to pull me where she wanted me, I did. I
came without even touching myself. It felt like there was an electric wire
running straight from my scalp to my tits and pussy, and it was a good
thing my face was buried between her legs, or my squeal would have gotten
us caught. My hands tightened on her ass, where I was holding onto her, and
I lapped at her clit frantically.

She stiffened, her hands twisting in my hair, sending aftershocks running
through my body, and arched her back. Her legs wrapped around me, pressing
me against her even more, and she came, shaking, shoving her hips up into
my face, smearing her juices all over my chin.

Finally, she collapsed back on the bed, her fingers loosening in my hair,
and I raised my head to look at her. She was covered in a fine sheen of
sweat, the light shining in the window making her gleam, and she was
staring back at me with a look of shock.

And then she lunged for me, pulling me into her arms and sobbing, telling
me she was sorry, she didn't mean to, she just needed to come so bad....

I managed to wriggle loose enough that I could stare at her in disbelief.
"Sorry for what?" I asked.

She stared back at me in equal incomprehension. "For hurting you like that.
I can't believe I... you were making me feel so good, and I _hurt_ you!"

"Oh. Um." I chewed on my lower lip. "I, um. Kinda liked it."

"Liked it?" Her face screwed up in confusion.

"Um. Yeah. I don't know, maybe I was just so, you know, turned on by what I
was doing, but... um. I, you know."

"You what?" She clearly hadn't been paying attention to anything but what I
was doing to her.

"I kinda, um... came." I hoped my blush wasn't visible in the dim light,
even though it felt like it ought to be providing its own illumination.

"You... came? While you were... licking me?" Amy asked, sounding... almost
awed.

I nodded. "I... really, really, _really_ liked it. And I was real close,
and when you pulled on my hair...." I shivered. "It was like it was
connected directly to me down there. And it made me come."

"Wow," she breathed, staring at me. "You liked it that much?"

I nodded. "I don't know if it was the, um, the hair-pulling thing itself,
or just... knowing that I'd made you lose control like that, but... um.
Yeah."

She licked her lips, and leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head. "I'm
all covered with, you know, _you_."

"Sis, after what you did... I don't _care_." She grabbed my chin, forcing
me to turn my head back, and kissed me hard. After several seconds, she
pulled back, looking thoughtful. "That's what I taste like?"

I nodded. "Yeah. You, um, you taste... good."

She thought for a minute. "Well, I don't know if I'd call it 'good', but
it's not bad. Okay, then."

"What are you doing?" I protested, as she pushed me down on my back.

"Returning the favor," she said, pushing my legs apart.

"You don't have to do that!" I tried to close my legs, but she was stronger
than I was. "Remember? That was the deal."

"I know I don't," she said, looking at me soberly. "I _want_ to. I want to
make you feel like... like that. You'll understand once you see what it's
like."

I wavered. "You're sure you want to? You aren't just doing it because you
feel like you have to?"

"I'm sure," she said. "I don't know if I'll ever want to do it again, but I
want to do it at least this once."

I licked my lips, and let my legs fall apart. "Okay," I said. "If you
really want to."

She took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, clearly building up her nerve.
"Okay." And then she leaned in and brushed her tongue across my labia.

Every muscle in my body tensed, and I fought not to scream. I'd thought it
felt good when she used her _fingers_....

And then she did it again, and I exploded, wave after wave of orgasm
crashing through my body. I don't know how long it went on; all I know is
that I came back to myself with Amy laying on top of me, straddling my leg,
her hard nipples pressed against my chest and her tongue invading my mouth.
Her arms were underneath mine, her hands holding my shoulders tightly,
pressing us together even as she slid herself along my thigh, hot and wet.

I reached up and cupped her ass, raising my leg slightly to give her
something to press against, and she squealed into my mouth as she came.

Finally, she relaxed on top of me, her kisses becoming softer, less urgent,
her tongue teasing mine, tracing my lips. I could still taste myself on her
lips, and just the idea made me shiver.

"God," Amy said. "God. That was...." She hesitated, and I wished I could
see her face in the dim light. "I hadn't really expected to _like_ it," she
said. "I still thought it was kind of... gross, when I started. But I
wanted to make you feel good."

"I said you didn't have to," I started, but she kissed me, cutting me off.

"I wanted to. I just didn't think I'd actually like it. But... wow. I don't
know... I don't know if I actually liked the, um, I guess the actual, you
know, licking, but... I _really_ liked what it did to you. I guess it's
like what you said about when I pulled your hair. Making you lose control
like that...." She shivered, and kissed me again, long and soft and tender.

"I love you," she said. "I know people would think it's wrong, but they
don't understand. They don't know _us_. I love you, and I want to be with
you forever."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "Amy... I'm yours. For as long as you want me,
I'm yours. I don't care about anyone else. I don't care what anyone thinks,
or what anyone would say, or... or anything. I love you."

I pulled her down, kissing her. "I love you, Amy. My sister. My lover. I
love you."

***

The next few years were idyllic; aside from keeping anyone from suspecting
the true nature of our relationship, we didn't really have any problems.
Even before we understood how we felt, we almost never fought-- partly
because I almost always did what Amy wanted, and partly because Amy almost
never pushed when I resisted.

We knew, instinctively, that what we had was precious and fragile; we knew
that we could break it if we weren't careful, and so we took great care to
treat each other 'right'. The fact that we'd always taken our parents as
role-models helped; we were simply more conscious of the stakes now.

I, of course, did what I always did when I wanted to understand something:
I turned to books. For the first several months, I brought home several
books on psychology, relationships, and similar subjects every day. I
didn't worry about the books giving us away; our parents and the librarians
were used to me becoming obsessively interested in something and devouring
everything I could get my hands on about it, so this wasn't out of the
ordinary for me.

Our parents... I wasn't sure whether we'd managed to hide our relationship
from them, to be honest. There were a couple of nights where either Amy or
I would fail to completely hold back our screams, leaving us lying in the
bed, waiting for one of our parents to open the door and discover us.

They never did, but occasionally I would catch one or the other giving us a
troubled look, as if trying to get up the nerve to say something. It might
have been that they suspected, but weren't certain enough to say anything,
or it might have been something else entirely. With our mom, especially, it
might have been her trying to get up the nerve to give us 'the talk', since
she never had. Admittedly, if she didn't suspect, she probably thought she
didn't need to; we'd never shown any interest in boys (or other girls, for
that matter), after all.

I never did; Amy has always been the only thing I wanted. When we looked at
dad's dirty magazines, I wasn't turned on by the girls, and I _definitely_
wasn't turned on by the men (although, at the time, I wasn't sure if I was
just a lesbian, or if it was because the men were so _ugly_-- and I had yet
to see a dirty movie, so I didn't realize it could have been _worse_). I
got turned on, definitely, but it was by the thought of doing whatever was
being shown in the picture to or with Amy (although, in the case of
heterosexual pictures, I was a little fuzzy on how it could be managed--
I'd never heard of a strap-on dildo at the time, so those fantasies
revolved around a fuzzy concept of me magically growing a penis for her,
since Amy _did_ like the penises-- not the men attached to them, just the
penises themselves; is it any wonder I fantasized about growing one for
her?).

Aside from liking the penises, Amy had never shown any interest in boys
either, so I had assumed she was like me-- right up until the most
terrifying day of my life.

***

We were fourteen, fully in the grip of our hormones and, while not fully
developed yet, far from flat-chested-- we had curves (oh, did Amy _ever_
have curves!), and we were attracting attention from boys left and right.
Most girls would have thought this was a wonderful problem to have, but I
just found it annoying, as did Amy.

Or at least that's what I thought, until March 13, 2001, a date I will
never forget-- both because of the sheer terror I experienced, and the
things I discovered about myself.

Amy had been distant and somewhat troubled for several days, refusing to
talk about what was on her mind. Finally, I decided I'd had enough. It was
a Saturday; since we didn't have to get up early the next morning, I
decided to corner her and make her talk. She almost never shut me out like
this, and-- without exception-- always felt better after we talked it out.

This time, though, she was more resistant than normal; it was almost three
in the morning before I got her to tell me why.

"I don't want to hurt you," she finally whispered, wrapping her arms across
her chest. "I'm dealing with it. You can't help with this, and telling you
about it would just hurt you."

It's odd. I know, intellectually, that most people would have at least
considered the possibility that what was bothering her was that she no
longer loved me, but it never crossed my mind.

"Amy, _not_ telling me is hurting me," I said. "And maybe you're wrong.
Maybe I _can_ help. How can you know, if you won't tell me?" She remained
stubbornly silent. "Amy... please. I love you. I don't like seeing you
hurting."

She didn't answer for several seconds, but I saw a tear slip out and run
down her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered, after I'd almost decided she
wasn't going to reply. "I don't want to, you have to believe me, but...."

Her voice trailed off. "But?" I prompted, after several seconds.

"I think... I think I've got a crush on Bobby Newman," she said, almost
inaudibly. "I can't stop thinking about how cute he is, or how funny, and I
get all tingly when he smiles at me, and... I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm
sorry."

I don't know how long I lay there beside her, unable to respond. My first
reaction was complete shock; of all the things I would have suspected could
be bothering her, this was nowhere on the list. The second....

The second was sheer, unadulterated terror. My skin prickled, and I could
hear my heart racing, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Did this mean she didn't love me anymore?

It took me three tries to get the question out; my body wouldn't cooperate,
as if it were rejecting the very possibility.


"Does this mean you don't want... that you don't...."

"No!" Amy said, desperately. She rolled over and grabbed me, kissing me
hard. "No! Don't ever think that I don't love you! That's why I didn't want
to tell you. I knew you'd think that's what it meant, but it doesn't, I
swear! I just have to, to get over this somehow. Get it out of my head. I
don't want it. I want _you_. You have to believe me, I want _you_."

I think I nearly fainted from the relief that swept over me; I know my head
was spinning, and little sparkles were floating in front of me. I forced
myself to take deep, slow breaths. She still wanted me. She still loved me.

"So... what does this mean?" I asked.

"Nothing. It doesn't mean anything," Amy said. "It's just a stupid crush,
that's all."

I bit my lip. "What are you going to do if he asks you to go out?" I asked.

"Tell him no," she responded, instantly. "I told you, I want _you_."

I bit my lip again. She meant it. There was no doubt in my mind. But there
was also an undercurrent of regret in her voice. I wasn't sure if she
consciously realized it or not, but it was there, and I hated it.

Not because it meant that she wanted him, but because it meant she was
going to be disappointed, and I hated that. But I didn't see any way around
it.

I swallowed. "I'm not mad," I said. "You can't help having a crush, okay?
And I'm not... upset, exactly. At least, not by what you think, as long as
it doesn't mean you don't love me or want me anymore."

"It doesn't," she said, urgently. "I swear, it doesn't. I love you, Sue, I
love you so much...."

She trailed off, crying, and I pulled her to me. "Don't cry, Amy. Don't
cry, please don't cry...."

I hated disappointing her, I thought. If only--

Several things exploded through my head at once.

"_Shared pain is lessened; shared joy, increased-- thus do we refute
entropy!_"

"_If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours;
if it doesn't, it was never meant to be._"

"_The more you love, the more you can love-- and the more intensely you
love. Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had time
enough, he could love all of that majority who are decent and just._"

I swallowed.

Did I dare?

Could I handle it?

I tried to imagine Amy coming home after a date with Bobby, bubbly and
bouncy and happy, and crawling in bed with me, telling me all about it
between kisses.

Would it hurt, having someone else make her happy?

No.

It wasn't important _who_ made Amy happy, just that she was happy. Not
exactly, anyway. I couldn't handle someone else making her happy _instead_
of me, but if I still got to make her happy? If it didn't mean I was losing
her?

Whoah.

Not only could I handle it... it was... something. I couldn't find a word
for it, but it was just... right, somehow.

Oh. Right. Of course it was. All I'd ever wanted was to make Amy happy. And
if I kept her from having this, not only would I be making her happy, I'd
be _hurting_ her. And that was just... wrong.

"I'm sorry, Sue, I'm sorry," Amy babbled against my chest. "I'm so
sorry...."

"Shhh," I said, putting a finger under her chin and forcing her to look up
at me. "I'm not mad. I'm not even upset anymore. I'm... a little scared,
but not upset."

"I'm sorry," she said again, and I put my finger against her lips.

"No," I said. "You shouldn't be. You have every right to have a crush on
him. If it doesn't mean you don't love me, if I'm not going to lose you,
then I don't have a problem with it. I'm not going to share you with just
anyone, but... Bobby seems like a decent enough guy."

She stared at me in confusion.

"If he asks you out, you should say yes," I told her. "I'm not giving you
up, but I can share, if he makes you happy."

"No!" Amy protested. "I told you, it's just--"

I silenced her with a kiss. "It's just a crush. But even if it wasn't, if
it doesn't take away from... from _us_, then... I'm okay with it. I want
you to be happy, Amy. I love you. If I kept you from something that would
make you happy without hurting us, _I'd_ be hurting you, and... I don't
ever want to hurt you. Ever."

"And I don't want to hurt _you_!" Amy said. "And you can't tell me that
going out with somebody else wouldn't hurt you!"

"Actually, I can," I said, a bit wonderingly. "If I know I'm not going to
lose you, it really doesn't bother me."

Amy stared at me in disbelief.

"It doesn't," I said. "I just want you happy. As long as I get to make you
happy, I don't care if someone else does as well."

"Are you... serious?" she asked. "I mean, that's... I don't even..."

"Completely," I said. "Although... I think we need to have a couple of
ground rules, just to keep from having problems."

"Ground rules," Amy mumbled, looking stunned. "Like... what?"

"Um. Like, you don't keep anything from me like this, so that I don't feel
left out, maybe," I said. "Maybe you tell me all about it as soon as you
get home?"

"And that wouldn't hurt you?" she asked, skeptically.

"I don't think so," I said. "If you're telling me about it, you aren't, I
don't know, excluding me."

"Oh," Amy said. "Are you sure?"

I hesitated. "I think so. As sure as I can be without actually trying it,
anyway."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "What else?"

"Um." I thought about it. "Well, if it gets... really serious, like,
thinking-about-marriage-serious, we'd have to tell him about, you know, us,
because it would be hard to explain why I'm moving in with you if we
didn't, or why I was sleeping in the same bed...."

Amy stared at me in shock. "What?"

"I'm not saying it will," I said. "But if it does... I already said I'm not
giving you up. 'Whither thou goest, I will go....'" I touched her cheek,
brushing away the last of the tears. "I can't ever marry you," I said. "But
if I could, I'd ask you right now. Right here."

"And if you could, I'd say yes," Amy said, her voice wavering. "In a
heartbeat. So why... why are you...."

"Because I want you to be _happy_," I said. "I can share you, at least as
long as they are good to you. Um. I think maybe that should be another
rule. I get to approve them. Just in case you completely lose your mind and
start crushing on a complete asshole."

Amy licked her lips. "You really are serious about this, aren't you?" she
said. "You're not just... just going along because you think I want you
to."

I shook my head. "I want you to be happy. That's... that's it, really. I
want you to be happy, and as long as I'm not going to lose you, I'm okay
with whatever makes you happy."

"I... I don't even know what to...." Amy hugged me to her tightly. "You're
too good to me, you know that? You're too good _for_ me. I don't deserve
someone like you."

"Yes, you do," I told her firmly, kissing her. "You do."

***

As it happened, nothing actually came of Amy's crush on Bobby. In fact, she
didn't have a boyfriend for another two years-- which was probably for the
best, as our parents probably wouldn't have let her actually go out on a
date before then.

I had very strong suspicions by this point that our parents knew about us,
and the way they looked at me nervously when Amy came home with the news
did nothing to contradict them. If they did, my honest happiness for Amy
must have truly confused them.

And I _was_ happy for her. In hindsight, if something had come of that
first crush, I don't know if I would have handled it as well as I thought I
would; now, however, I'd had two years to come to grips with the idea, and
any lingering worries had been put to rest. Well, aside from the worry that
I'd discover I couldn't actually handle it when it really happened, but I
was fairly sure I could.

It helped that the boy in question was, in my opinion, good enough for
Amy-- and there weren't many who were. He was good looking (at least, that
was the consensus among the other girls at school, and intellectually I
supposed I agreed), smart, and one of those genuinely nice guys you run
across far too rarely.

In fact, my biggest worry was whether he'd be able to handle it when he
found out the truth about Amy and me. It was a foregone conclusion that
he'd fall for her, of course-- how could he not? She was Amy, after all--
and it seemed likely to me that she would fall for him, if he really was
all he appeared to be.

And, as far as I could tell, he _was_. When I'd noticed his interest in
Amy, I'd started paying more attention to him; when I noticed Amy's
interest in _him_, well... Stalking is such an ugly word, really. I prefer
'due diligence'.

Whatever you choose to call it, I didn't turn up anything that made me
think he was hiding anything. The girls he'd gone out with had nothing but
good things to say about him; he was a complete gentleman. The one serious
girlfriend he'd had finally admitted, after I convinced her that I really
did just want to know if he was good enough for my sister, that he was a
_true_ gentleman-- he let her set the pace, he never pressured her, but he
was also willing to go as far as she wanted, not that that had been _that_
far; I couldn't get details out of his ex, but she did admit that his hands
had been under her shirt at least once, but 'not any lower'.

Good. That meant Amy wouldn't be trying to fend off an octopus, but she
wouldn't be sitting there wondering if he was actually _interested_,
either.

But what really clinched it for me happened the day before he asked her
out-- because he asked _me_ for permission!

***

"Hey, um, can I talk to you for a minute, Sue?"

I looked up, startled. What was Tom doing outside my fifth period
classroom? His class wasn't even on this side of the school....

"Huh?" I asked, eloquently.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he repeated.

"I... guess so," I said. "What about?"

He looked around, making sure no one was listening. "Um. I was kind of
thinking of asking your sister if she wanted to go out Friday, but I know
you two are, um, really close--" He winced as my eyes widened. "Not like
that, jeez, that sounded bad. I just meant, you know, you never fight or
anything, and I don't want to, you know, come between you, so, um, do you
think it would be okay?"

It took me a few seconds to make sure I had control over my voice; once I
realized that he _hadn't_ discovered us, and realized what he was really
doing, well... it would have been rude to laugh at him, especially when I
liked him.

"You're asking me for permission to ask my sister out on a date?" I asked,
just to make sure I understood.

He grinned at me, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I know it
sounds ridiculous, but... I dunno. It just seems... right, somehow. I
really like her, but if asking her out is going to cause problems, I'd
rather not do it."

"Well, _I_ don't have any problem with it," I said. "I don't know what our
parents will say, but worst case they'll say no, so there's no problem
there. Honestly, though, that's not the most important question you should
be asking."

"It's not?" he asked. "What is, then?"

I looked him in the eye, and asked him, bluntly, "Are you _good enough_ for
my sister?"

He flinched, but only for a second before drawing himself up. "I hope so,"
he said, firmly. "All I can say is that I'll try to be."

I waited for a couple of seconds, but he didn't back down. "Good," I said.
"If you'd just said yes, I wouldn't have believed you. Mainly because I
don't think it's _possible_ to be good enough for her. You just have to try
to get as close as possible."

He relaxed, letting out a deep breath. "Oh thank God," he said, fervently.
"Now all I have to do is get up the courage to ask her."

I thought about making him sweat, but couldn't bring myself to do it. He
was just too nice.

"Well, I can't tell you what she'll say," I told him. "But you know as well
as I do that even if she says no, she won't be mean about it. She's not
like that."

"If she was, I wouldn't be asking," Tom said, seriously.

"Good. I already knew you were smart, since you are interested in her, but
it's nice to have confirmation." I grinned when he blushed. "And if you
catch her after band practice in the morning, there usually aren't that
many people around, so that ought to make it easier."

He looked grateful. "Thanks," he said. "Um. One more thing... don't tell
her I asked you?"

"I won't tell her until you have," I said. "I don't want to ruin the
surprise. But other than that, I don't keep secrets from her."

"She won't be upset?"

I shook my head, grinning. "She'll probably think it's sweet," I said.

He blushed, and would have said something if the bell hadn't rung just
then, making us realize we were late to class.

It was completely worth it.

***

Amy's first date went well, and-- much to my relief-- I didn't suddenly
discover a well-buried jealous streak. The only thing I could find to be
jealous about was that he could take her out openly, but on the other hand,
_I_ got to have her in my bed every night.

She kissed him goodnight on the third date; when I asked her if he was good
at kissing, she had to think about it.

"He is," she finally said. "It's... really different from when it's us,
though. I guess because he's a boy? It's good, but... different."

I proceeded to thoroughly kiss her-- just to make sure she had a good basis
for comparison, of course.

***

It was a couple of months after that, with Amy and Tom an official couple
at school, that she came in after her date with a look I recognized very
well.

I didn't know what they'd been doing, but I only needed one glance to know
that she was _seriously_ turned on. I'd been a little worried that I'd
react badly when she started doing more than just kissing, but as it turned
out, I shouldn't have.

I met her eyes, giving her a little smile to let her know I knew, only to
have my breath catch in my throat. The sheer hunger in her eyes made my
nipples harden, tightening so fast they ached, and I instinctively squeezed
my legs together.

Making small talk with our parents until we could escape to our room was
tortuous. I spun Amy around as our bedroom door shut, pushing her up
against it as I dropped to my knees, ducking my head under her skirt.

Her panties were soaked, and the scent made me light-headed. I yanked them
down with one hand as she whimpered, tilting her pelvis forward.

"God, please...." she whispered.

I didn't make her wait, lapping at her cunt with all the skill I'd
developed over the years. I didn't need to tease her; she'd clearly been
teased enough.

She needed to come, and that's exactly what I intended to make her do.

She tugged her skirt up until she could grab my hair, pulling my face
harder against her cunt with one hand, the other being shoved in her mouth
to keep from making noise. I pressed two fingers into her, curving them
upwards to press against her g-spot, and she came, every muscle tensed,
shaking.

I had to catch her when her legs gave out as she came down, holding her up
and helping her stumble to the bed as she kissed me frantically.

"What _happened_ tonight?" I asked, once I thought she could be coherent.
"It must have been _good_."

She nodded, kissing me hungrily again. "He's... _good_ with his hands. I
let him undo my bra, and...." She shivered. "His fingers are so different
from ours, kind of rough and hard... I'd worried that it would hurt, and it
might have if he hadn't been so _gentle_." She brought her hand up to my
chest and started circling my nipple, feather-light touches that I could
barely feel. "Like that, only... different, because they felt so different.
It felt so good, and...." She blushed.

"What?" I asked.

"I can't help wondering what it would be like having _both_ of you playing
with my nipples," she said. "That was actually one of the first things I
thought of, when he started touching them. It made me _so_ hot...."

"Well, someday, maybe," I murmured, and her eyes widened.

"But... you don't like guys," she said.

"No, but I like _you_. And if we eventually tell him about us, there's no
reason for us _not_ to both make love to you at the same time."

She shivered, her breath catching and her eyes fluttering closed. "Oh god,"
she said, wonderingly. "I think I just came a little at the thought."

I grinned. "Well, let me remove any doubt about the matter," I said, as I
slid down the bed. "And the word 'little', too."

"Oh, god...."

***

I found myself taking care of Amy after almost every date; she came home
wound up even tighter every time, and told me that it was probably a good
thing I was there for her, or she'd have gone further than she really
wanted.

"It's a good thing that I know I'm coming home to you," she said. "If I
didn't _know_ I wasn't going to be left high and dry, I don't know if I'd
have the willpower to stop. Or at least, to not go a lot further."

At the time, I thought it was sweet, but the more I thought about it, the
more something bothered me. Finally, I thought I'd managed to pin it down.

"Amy?" I asked her after her next date. "You know you don't _have_ to stop
if you don't want to, right? I'm not saying you shouldn't stop, but... you
aren't stopping just because of me, are you?"

Her guilty silence was answer enough. I sighed.

"Amy," I said, rolling us over so that I was kneeling above her. "You're
being silly. You can do whatever you want with him, as far as I'm
concerned. I know you love me, and I know you want me. I know you want him,
too. You wouldn't get so turned on if you didn't."

She blushed, not meeting my eyes.

"See? You know I'm right. So when you go out tomorrow night, I want you to
go as far as you want to with him. You probably want to touch his dick,
don't you?"

She reddened further, her breath quickening.

"Mm-hmm. Do you want to kiss it?"

She shivered, and nodded, just the tiniest bit.

"I thought so. Do you want to suck it? Do you want to make him come in your
mouth?"

She shuddered, and I was surprised to realize she'd just come. "Such a
naughty girl," I said, teasingly.

She grabbed my arms, flipping us over. "Naughty?" she said. "I'll _show_
you naughty." She slid down my stomach, her mouth hovering over my cunt.
"And just for that, if I _do_ make him come in my mouth? I'm going to make
you kiss me afterwards."

I wasn't sure if that was a threat or a promise. And I wasn't sure which
one I wanted it to be.

***

Amy was as good as her word. She didn't end up going down on him that next
night, but she did play with his cock, making him come all over her hands.
And she let him make her come with his hands, taking her panties off and
leaving them with him.

And on the date after that, she _did_ suck his cock-- and she did swallow,
and she made me kiss her... after she told me what she'd done.

On the one hand, I had no interest in men, and less than no interest in
their semen. On the other hand....

On the other hand, I really liked it when she was aggressive like that.
Really, really liked it. And the thoughtful look she gave me afterwards
made me think that she was plotting something. I wasn't sure if I was
scared by the idea, or turned on.

Well, no, that wasn't true. Either way, I was turned on. I just wasn't sure
how worried I should be.

***

A few days before her seventeenth birthday, we were lying in bed after a
particularly... energetic bout of lovemaking. Amy traced the red marks my
teeth had made in my wrist when I bit down to keep from screaming.

"If I asked you to do something for me, would you?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "What is it?"

She looked down. "I want you to fuck me."

I looked at her, puzzled. "Um... what do you call what we just did?"

She blushed. "Not like that. I mean... _fuck_ me. Take my cherry."

I blinked. One of the things I'd always been careful about was not to break
her hymen; I could get two fingers in her, but that was it, and I usually
only used one, just to be safe.

"Why?" I asked.

"I want to fuck Tom," she said, bluntly. "But I want _you_ to be my first.
He'll be my first man... and maybe my only man... but _you'll_ be my first
ever."

"Of course," I said. What else could I say? "When do you want to do it?"

"Mom and Dad are going out of town next weekend," she said. "I thought
maybe we could have Friday night, and then Tom and I could use the couch
Saturday night."

I thought about it. I didn't like the idea of her first time with him being
on the couch.

"I don't think so," I said shaking my head, and she looked disappointed.
"We should clean off the other bed and make it look like I actually use it.
That way you can use our bed."

She hesitated. "You want me to... to use our bed?" She bit her lip. "That's
awfully... I mean...."

"Sis, be honest with me. You've been going out with Tom for over a year
now. There's a pretty good chance that there's going to be a ring involved
in a year or so, isn't there?"

She nodded, blushing.

"Then shouldn't your first time be in an actual bed, not on a couch?"

"Well... I don't have to use _our_ bed," she responded. "I could use the
other one."

"It should be special," I said. "He's been good to you. He deserves this,
even if he won't know why it's special."

"Well... but what about you?" Amy asked.

I hesitated. "I could sleep on the couch."

"No." Amy shook her head.

"Or... hmm. We're probably going to end up telling him about us
eventually," I said. "We need to have some idea of whether or not he's
going to freak before we do. So... I could sleep in the other bed until he
goes home."

"You mean... while we're doing it?" Amy asked, her eyes wide.

I nodded. "Yeah. I'll go to bed early, and pretend I'm asleep, but if he
freaks out at doing it in the same room as me, that's not a good sign."

She nodded, slowly. "Are you going to watch?"

I hesitated. "Do you want me to?"

She shivered. "I hadn't even thought about it... but that would be really
hot, knowing you were watching. If you can't... participate, you can at
least watch."

I thought about that for a moment. "Okay," I said. "And... if he catches me
watching, you can tell him that that was my price for covering for you.
Getting to watch."

"Yeah," she said, slowly. "That's a little further than just doing it in
the same room, but it doesn't actually give anything away."

"Right," I said. "If he doesn't have a problem with it, and things keep
going as well as they have, then maybe we can consider telling him in a few
months. I know you don't like hiding it from him."

Amy said nothing, but her guilty look was as good as an answer.

"Love, of course you feel guilty about hiding it from him. You _should_
feel guilty about it, if you're actually serious about him. We just can't
risk it till we're sure."

"I know," she said, miserably. "I just...."

"Look, once we tell him-- if we do-- then we can let _him_ watch, if it
goes over well," I said.

"Do you think he'd like that?" Amy asked.

I gave her an incredulous look. "Do you really need to ask that? You know
he likes the way you look, and I've caught him trying not to look at _me_ a
couple of times when he came over and I wasn't wearing a bra. It's really
sweet, the way he keeps noticing and then looking away and trying _not_ to
notice. So... yeah, if the idea doesn't freak him out, and he's not mad at
us for not telling him-- and I don't think he will be, if he doesn't freak,
because he's just not like that-- yeah, I think he'd like that. A lot."

"And.. you're okay with doing it in front of him?"

I gave her a gentle kiss. "I'm okay with doing it in front of _anyone_, as
long as I'm doing it with you."

"Then... okay. I think we have a plan," Amy said. "I just hope it works."

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