Sister is a Showoff

"Well you must have done something if you think she's doing it to get back at you."

"I guess... I guess she thinks I brought Joel over to peep on her."

"What?" Brittany asked, trying to stifle laughter, "Why?" And only then did it occur to me how dumb and uncomfortable a story it was going to be to tell, how it all started, and so I rushed it into as concise a sentence as I could.

"I guess she kind of does this thing sometimes where she strips for me in her window, just like to her underwear or whatever, and then I was in the alley with Joel and he was trying to peep on you and she thought I tried to sneak him to take a look at her. And maybe that's kind of offensive to her."

Brittany took a deep breath.

"That doesn't make a lick of sense," she said.

"I know," I said, "I'm only guessing that's why she's mad at me. Maybe she's on her period..."

"No," she said flatly, "But first things first. Why were you and Joel trying to peep on me?"

"It wasn't me," I said, "I told Joel when I saw you accidentally at the lake, and he went crazy because he's always had a crush on you. He really just wanted to see you naked."

"Is that right?"

"That's right."

"And why were you there?" she asked, "You didn't get a good enough look at the lake?"

I realized what it must have sounded like I was saying.

"No, not me. I wasn't looking at you. I was just taking out the trash."

Which came off as an even more pathetic-sounding excuse in person, believe you me.

"Sure," she drawled, long and sarcastically, "I can't believe how big of a perv you are."

"I'm not a perv," I insisted. It didn't feel like a lie at the time.

"Whatever," she said, "Just don't go broadcasting it to everybody. It'll ruin your social life if everyone thinks you get off on your older sister."

"Don't think that hadn't occurred to me," I said, "I should have never told Joel. Now Lauren thinks I'm some kind of a pervy showmaster."

"Maybe," she said, "Did you tell her Joel was trying to look at me instead?"

"I tried. She's not talking to me."

"She will," Britt reassured me, "Just keep trying to talk to her."

"I will."

"So you guys still do that cute thing where you talk through your windows?"

"Yup," I said, "Since the first day we moved in here."

"That's so adorable," Britt said. "She strips for you now?"

"I guess, but mostly just underwear. I've only seen her boobies once, and now Joel has too."

"Those are the breaks," she said, "Will you tell me the next time you're doing that with her?"

"Why? You want to watch?"

"Can't a girl be curious?"

"Okay," I said, "But I don't think it will be for a real long time."

***

As it happened, later that night while I was trying to write a report for English, I heard a car pulling into Lauren's driveway. Eager as I was to be distracted, I went to my window and saw an unfamiliar car idling there. I watched Lauren step our of the passenger side, carrying an absurdly large stuffed animal, like the kind of stupid giant panda you win at carnival games. She was wearing much fancier clothes than she had been at school that day. She was heading up her driveway when a hand from inside the car caught her and pulled her back. I watched through the windshield as she gently kissed the driver on the lips, the boy from in her room earlier. He looked like he reached round her back to try and pull her deeper into the kiss, but she broke contact. She smiled, and ran up her driveway unaccompanied. I don't know if the driver saw me staring knives at him as he pulled out.

Lauren ripped her curtains open forcefully, and my eyes snapped to her attention. She paused a moment to look me directly in the eye, and snarl her lips at me. I could not imagine a more indignant, unattractive face being made by such a pretty girl. Then she began carefully arranging her prize panda carefully on top of the dresser in her window that faced me, and then after that even arranging a small framed photo. I pulled myself away from the window, determined to not let her see my jealousy, and sat my lazy ass down in front of my computer screen.

I pulled up my Facebook, determined to scroll aimlessly to find a picture of one of my pretty friends that I could convince myself to openly masturbate to in jealousy. But when I did, I noticed Britt was online as well, and remembered what she had told me earlier. And with only a moment's hesitation, I messaged her.

Ricky: Hey perv, Lauren's at the window now if you want to watch.

...

Britt: Ya?

Ricky: Yeah.

Ricky: But she's being a bitch.

Britt: K.

Britt: 1 min.

I had no idea what she was up to. Out of the corner of my eye, I checked Lauren's window. She was sitting at her computer now, but if I knew her as well as I thought I'd gotten to know over the last 10 years, she was probably watching me just as intently for any sign of anger or jealousy. And I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. And I went back to scrolling through my sexier friends and had completely forgotten about Britt until she literally barged into my door.

"Ricky," she said loudly, and I snapped immediately to her attention, my hands darting quickly away from my zipper.

"Jesus," I said, "Don't you knock?"

"No," she said flightily, "Anyways I'm going for this job interview tomorrow, and I was wondering which top you think I should wear. Do you like this one?"

She gestured at her chest, which is literally the only part of her torso that was covered by her thin, tiny green tank top. I recognized it as a favourite of hers to wear around the house as like extremely casual wear. And as much as that was one reason I stumbled on my words, the way she was gesturing at her chest also highlighted exactly how form-fitting and tight the top was, and how it clung feverishly to the curvature of her large breasts. I saw her nipples making tiny little dents in the fabric, as if she weren't wearing a bra, and in my already primed sexual mind I became probably visibly distracted.

"I... I don't know... That's maybe not, you know, like an 'interview' type top," I said, literally inserting air quotes.

"No?" she asked in her whispery, naïveté voice. "Well, what about this one?" She turned and grabbed a top she must have brought with her. It was a pink button-up, very short-sleeved and cut off just below her breasts, which would have shown a lot of her flat stomach to any potential employer.

"Um..." I said.

"You don't like it?" she asked.

"Well..."

"You need to see it on," she said. And with that, she tossed it back onto my sofa. She turned around so that her back was facing me, and peeled her green tank over her head. I watched in rapt engagement as the sides of her large, heavy breasts appeared to me, peeking around her frame. Looking her directly in the back, I could see boob on each side of her. I couldn't break my stare, couldn't direct my thoughts anywhere but at the sweetness of her exposed flesh, couldn't redirect the blood anywhere except for where it was rapidly rushing to my cock, straining against the fabric of my short pants.

I didn't even blink as I watched her bend at the waist, stared lecherously at the skin of her breasts that appeared as she leaned away from me to grab the pink top again, and then even more skin appearing as she put her arms in the sleeves. I could see the weight of her breasts shaking side to side as she maneuvered her arms, then she spun around and faced me before she'd done up even the first button. I had a few seconds' glance at her bare breasts while she did up the buttons on the front of her tiny blouse.

"I think the buttons on this one make it a little more formal," she said, "You know. So it's more like an 'interview' top." She made the air quotes teasingly back at me, half of her breasts still hanging free as she did.

"Um..." I said.

"You like it?" she asked, "I'll take that to mean you like it?"

"Um," I said, "I mean, like where are you applying for a job, Britt? Hooters?"

"No," she said, "Twin Peaks."

"Isn't that like the same thing?"

"I guess it is," she said, "So the button-up then?" She turned sideways, stuck her chest way out in profile for me.

"Um," I said again.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said laughing. She leaned into me, absurdly accentuating her already generous cleavage, and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks brother. Have a good night."

"Uh..." I said, "Okay."

And then she disappeared out my door as quickly as she arrived. I was temporarily still too dumbstruck to really comprehend where I was, much less what I was doing, and I was probably absent-mindedly stroking my hard cock before I thought to even cast a glance back Lauren's way. By the time my mind came to itself, and I thought to look, her curtain had been snapped shut again and she was nowhere to be seen. I forgot my erection (mostly) for just a second and walked to my window to gaze longlingly at Gatsby's green light, only to be drawn back to my computer by the sound of a Facebook messenger notification.

Britt: That'll show her.

Ricky: ...wat?

...

Britt: Lauren.

Ricky: ...show her what, exactly? Your boobs?

Britt: I guess lol

Britt: Now she'll have to up her strip show game haha

Ricky: Did you forget that she was mad at me already?

Ricky: Like what did that accomplish?

Britt: Didn't u say Joel was peeping at me?

Ricky: Yeah...

Britt: Well now Lauren knows why.

Ricky: Whatever. I don't think she even saw. Her curtains are closed.

Britt: She saw. Trust me. I was watching.

Ricky: So now she thinks I fap to my sister?

Ricky: I thought we agreed that was a bad thing.

...

Britt: Now she knows why u set Joel up for a peep, haha

Britt: U told me that was the story

Ricky: It's not a story. It's the truth.

Britt: Whatever. Just tell her "the truth" then

Ricky: ...

Britt: Just trust me. Talk to her

Ricky: Okay...

...

Britt: So...

Ricky: So what?

Britt: are u fapping?

Ricky: ...wat?

Britt: I know I got you hard. I saw

Britt: are u fapping to me?

My mind was blown enough for me to barely remember this conversation. It is only the diligent record keeping of Facebook messenger that allows me to recall it in such detail. But here is where I explicitly remember coming to my senses, although not the most moral or upright of my senses came first.

Ricky: maybe...

Ricky: my mind went a little blank there

Ricky: might need a refresher...

Britt: what did u have in mind?

Ricky: I don't know...

Ricky: maybe a picture?

Ricky: refresh my memory?

Britt: haha

Britt: you perv

...

Ricky: Well?

Britt: no pics for you

Ricky: Why not?

Britt: I don't know what u would do with them

Ricky: I wouldn't do anything

Ricky: you know

Ricky: besides fap

...

Ricky: ...

Britt: ...no...

Ricky: why not?

Britt: you got your show

Britt: besides, there are pics of me out there

Ricky: what?

Britt: if you can find them

Ricky: what? where?

Britt: nvm

Ricky: WAT?

Britt: it means never you mind

Ricky: where? I want to see...

Britt: Go find them.

Ricky: where?

Britt: never you mind

Ricky: hint?

Britt: no hints

Ricky: please?

Britt: nope

Britt: good night

She signed off.

I am almost more ashamed to admit that I so desperately begged, there, for nudes of my own older sister, than I am to admit that I immediately masturbated wildly to the thought of her. I stroked off imagining her naked at the beach, thrilled out at the thought of her changing her tops before me just moments prior, and came unapologetically imagining my sister taking nude pictures of herself and posting them online.

***

I was able, by some miracle, to speak to Lauren at school the next day. She was in a ton of AP classes and was on a bunch of nerdy academic teams, so her schedule was mercilessly packed. I, on the other hand, was pretty much an ex-jock at that point, on what you'd call the long-term injured reserve for high school athletes who'd never play again. I had more free time than I knew what to do with. So I stalked Lauren. Don't judge; it felt really healthy and cathartic at the time.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, "Come to humiliate me some more?"

"No," I said. "I never wanted to humiliate you. I came to say I'm sorry."

"You have a funny way of showing it!" she snapped back, "The way you tried to show me off for Joel? God! I can't believe I thought you were special."

"Lauren," I said, "I swear I wasn't trying to show you off for Joel. I wish he hadn't seen your boobies. I really do. I can't take that back, but I can honestly swear that I wish I'd be the only person you show your boobies to from now on."

"Yeah right," she said, "I saw you with your sister last night. You're practically running your own booby harem, Ricky."

"I don't know what harem means," I said.

"You're awash in boobs, Ricky," she said, "You don't need me. And worse, you humiliate me. I can't even look at you right now."

"You've got to believe me, Lauren. I didn't ever mean to humiliate you. It wasn't even you Joel was trying to peep at. He wanted to see Brittany naked."

"He wanted to see Brittany?" she asked.

"Hell yes," I said, "He's always wanted to see Brittany. He's only had a crush on her for like, forever."

"So that was it? That was it all?"

"Oh, yeah. You've got to believe me. It had nothing to do with you."

"Really?"

"Yup," I said, "Nothing to do with you at all."

Lauren shrunk back deep into her cafeteria seat.

"Oh," she said, "Well, okay, I guess."

"Yeah," I said encouragingly, "Okay!"

"I mean I guess it makes sense. I can see why somebody would rather look at her than me."

"What?" I asked, "Why?"

"Ricky," she kind of whined, "She's so much prettier than I am."

"What? You're crazy!"

"I'm not stupid, Ricky. I can see the way people look at her. Everybody looks at her. I even look at her sometimes. God, she's like a 10. How many 10s do people ever even meet in real life? Even you can't take your eyes off of her when she's in your room. I saw you."

"Lauren," I said, "You've got to believe me. I want to look at you. I want to see your boobies. I want to be the only guy to see you naked. I want us to be together. You know, like, intimately."

She smiled.

"You want to be intimate with me?" she asked.

"Yes."

"That's kind of sweet, Ricky," she said.

"I know!"

She made her mulling-it-over face, which I didn't like and which passed slower than I would have liked.

"Okay Ricky," she said. "I forgive you."

"Thanks," I said, "I forgive you too."

She pursed her lips.

"What for?" she asked.

"Um..."

***

Count it as saved by the bell after that. I think I was lucky to get as far along as I did, but after that she scurried off to her AP science class, and I went to play Risk with my fellow gadabouts.

Lauren skirted off to her church group after school, so I didn't get the chance to meet her then. Joel and I walked home, since Tuesday was his day off of practice. Guy played a lot of sports. I used to be with him on every team, until I'd busted my ankle earlier this season. Rehabbing it was kind of a bitch, so I wasn't back to full mobility yet and had kind of just relegated to weights.

Since he had the afternoon off, Joel came in with me to play some video games. Since I'd been hurt, I was unnaturally competitive at video game sports, so we ran some high-tension games across football, hockey, and UFC before we were able to be distracted.

I was distracted first, I maintain, which is how he gained the advantage early in the last game. I'd looked kind of askance and seeing a text message on my phone, checked it kind of blankly at a stoppage. But the message itself got all my attention.

It was from Britt.

"Watch this," it said.

I lost that round in anticipation.

Then came the sound, the soft swoosh of a door opening against its knob, and the hard chunk of it closing. Then the natural craning of our necks, Joel's and mine, the mark of a human's curiosity.

Brittany strode proudly out of her room, towel draped over her shoulder. She was clad only in lacy black lingerie, much too sexy for casual around the house wear, at least as far as I understand women, even to this day. It was the kind of lingerie women of rumor wore when they were looking forward to getting laid. Sheer patches connected decorative dots of her bra, just barely covering her areolas while teasing the maximal amount of conceivable breast flesh. Her panties were similarly sheer, at least in patches where her bikini line would show were she not, as I happened then to know, insistently waxed or shaven bare.

"Oh gosh," she said, raising her open hand to cover her gasping mouth, "I didn't know anyone was home."

I had to hand it to her. She even had earphones in her ears to make it look convincing. She broke into a casual trot as if she were hiding from our obvious gaze, but it only made her tits bounce even more obscenely in her top shelf Victoria's Secret gear. My eyes were glued to the sheer parts of her panties. I wanted to see again the bare flesh of her lips. It was so hard to recreate her image in my memory, and I desperately wanted to refresh myself.

She bounced her way towards us and around the corner of the living room into the bathroom. I felt somewhat less ashamed, ogling my sister equally with my best friend Joel. Communally, it felt more like the natural appreciation of human beauty. When I looked upon her alone, I felt more lustful. I felt less... human, somehow.

She disappeared behind the bathroom door. I tried to coax Joel back into another round of our virtual fight, but after he got himself carelessly knocked out in under a minute, he immediately leapt from his seat and dropped to his knees at the bathroom door.

"Why don't your doors have keyholes?" he plead to no one.

"Jesus, Joel," I said, "You're really creeping me out."

"That's easy for you to say," he protested. "You've already seen her naked. You can just imagine it any time you want now. I want that in my head."

"If you're that serious about it, you can just imagine it any time you want as well."

"Man," he said, "It's just not the same."

He fell back from the door, jumping at the sudden shaking of the door. All of the sudden, the doorknob startled him and he tumbled in upon himself. Brittany emerged from the steamy bathroom, clad only in a full-length towel that covered her just below her shoulders to just above her knees. She had her fancy bra and panties strewn over her right shoulder.

"Gosh," she said, "You be careful now, Joel. No need to rush. Big boys can hold it."

She laughed good-naturedly as she rounded the corner back down the hallway to her room. I was admiring the way she swayed her hips as she walked as Joel damn near tripped over himself, trying to catch a glimpse.

And lucky him, and how it seemed she just happen that she struggled with her simple door knob, and the way her towel dropped from her body so seemingly naturally, falling into a woven hump at her feet.

"Eeep," was the onomatopoeic sound she made.

She was facing us at a 90-degree angle, bare-naked. I admired the curvature of her ass, wanted for the liberal display of her barely concealed pubis, admired the long stretch of skin where her large, heavy breasts dangled beneath her bent chest. You could only just see the glimpse of a nipple peeping from underneath the flesh of her swinging tits. In an instant she collected her dropped garment from the floor, and in one fluid movement she disappeared behind her bedroom door.

"Oh man," Joel said.

"Yeah," I said, "Wow."

"I gotta go," he said, and promptly disappeared through the sliding glass patio door.

I couldn't leave. I was entranced. I stood up from where he had bowled me over, rising from my ass. I staggered down the hallway in lust. I passed the door to my bedroom and went straight to hers. I didn't knock. I found her sprawled on her bed, her towel still sparsely clung to her soaked skin. She was contorting herself in fits of her laughter.