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It’s early morning, and I’m over at Bethany’s house, laying on her bed in my pajamas, playing on her Nintendo. Bethany and I have been friends since freshman year of high college, which makes it eight years now. We’re probably aging out of the ‘sleepover’ territory, but seeing as we’re both jobless school grads back living with our parents, it is what it is.

“Ok, Chloe,” she starts. She’s looking at herself in the mirror, checking herself out. “I’m going to go shower and stuff. You need anything?” She’s naked, twisting her petite frame side to side. Bethany is cute, not that I’m interested. We’d kissed before — just for the spectacle, something for the advantage of the guys watching — but it had sated my curiosity, answered that question in the back of my mind, could I get with Bethany? Well, obviously, no.

“Let’s see…” I say, pausing the game, making eye contact through the reflection, “What do I need? A direction in my life? Some motivation? A sense of purpose? Hell, a proper boyfriend would be nice, too.”

She giggles, rolling her eyes. “Well, I’ll let you know if I see any boys in the bathroom. But if I do, I might be sending him out with his dick already wet.” She plucks an invisible something from her face, and I look at myself in the reflection, laying on my back on the bed behind her. My long red hair is pulled into a loose bun, my stretchy black sports bra is tight over my chest, my flat belly lies beneath, and then my booty shorts cling to my hips, showing off my long legs. A self-indulgent grin drifts onto my face and I pull the cozy blanket up.

“Hey, girl,” she says, making her way to the door, “Don’t fall back asleep. We’ve got plans, remember?”

“Yeah,” I say, but I’ve unpaused the game, my attention is back on the screen.

And I’m playing the game, it’s fun, addictive, whatever.

I barely even notice when Bethany’s sister, Bria, opens the door. “Where’s Beth?” she says.

I shrug. “Bathroom, I guess.”

“K.” She steps into the room to better watch what I’m doing on screen. “This fun?” she says. She’s way too cool to play video games.

“Yeah.”

It’s just Bria, Bethany’s aloof older sister. Back in the day, when she was around, she just teased us and made fun of us for being dorks. But luckily, she was rarely around, at all times out at her boyfriend’s house, or drinking with her friends at some party. It’s been a few years now, and I’ve no idea what she’s been up to, or why she’s sitting here, hanging out with me like it’s no big deal, but my concentration currently is on the screen, on not losing the level.

So Bria perches on the edge of the bed in front of me, and when I beat the level and get a few seconds reprieve, I glance at her. She’s in her pajamas like me, but on her it’s provocative, because she is by any measure gorgeous. Cute like her sister, but lithe and tall and graceful too. She’s got perfect skin and perfect form, and at all times seems to be well dressed. Even now, mere moments after waking, the lavender shirt fits her just right, and the lime green shorts pair expertly with her tanned legs. I’ve at all times been a little bit fascinated by her, even back when she was laughing at my expense and calling me names.

“Bria, you’re blocking my view,” I say.

She looks at me over her shoulder, then back at the screen. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re distracting me, though,” I insist, “Move.”

“What am I doing?” she says, “I’m just siting here.”

“Move it!” I bark.

She grins. “Alright.” She scooches back on the bed, sitting next to my legs.

I sigh.

“Surely I’m not a distraction back here, Chloe, am I?”

“Whatever, Bria. Just let me play the game.”

Quick as a snake, she tugs the blanket down and grabs my ankles, pins them together. She reaches with her other hand to tickle the bottom of my feet.

“Hey!” I squeal, legs bucking uncontrollably. She keeps tickling, and I pinch my eyes closed, try to kick free. Her hand is too strong, though, and I’ve got no recourse but to beg. “Bria, please,” I whimper, voice shaky, “You’re making me lose.” She stops, a big ‘Try Again?’ glaring at me from on screen.

The reprieve is brief, and she tickles me some more, a delighted sparkle in her eye as she watches me writhe. “Bria,” I moan.

She grins playfully. “That’s hot,” she says, “The way you said my name. Say it again.” She tickles me more.

“What?” What did she just say? My feet twitch uncontrollably and I’m whimpering and there’s no way I heard her right. “Bria,” I moan again.

Her grin widens, her eyes gleam with friskiness.

I pull my feet away, but her grip is iron. “Bria, stop.”

And instantly, she lets me go. “All you had to do was ask,” she says, smirking. “And if you want me to start again, you just let me know.”

I pant. “What? Why would I want that?”

“Lots of reasons,” she says, stroking my calf, “Like, maybe you liked it?”

“No?” I say, giving her a look.

But her hand remains on my leg, and it’s a weirdly nice feeling, the gentle caress, especially after the cruel tickling. And I’m still catching my breath, so I say nothing. I turn my attention back to the screen and hit ‘continue.’

“You’ve got nice legs, you know,” she says. I could tell her to stop, to leave me alone, to get out of her sister’s room. But I don’t. I let her touch my leg, feel my skin. She looks at me over her shoulder in a way I don’t figure out, biting her lip. Her long brunette hair shimmers as she tucks it behind her ear. Her fingers wander up my leg, circle my knee, dance around it, tease it. “You should show them off more. I could help you.”

Her touch tickles, but not the same way that my feet were tickled. No, this tickles in a way that shoots little electric sparks up my thighs, that makes my breath catch and teases me with warmth.

“You still dress like kid, you know,” she says, “But, seeing you now? In your underwear? You’d look good in something sexy.”

I suck in a breath as her fingertips brush my thigh. But this is too much. I grit my teeth, pinch my legs together. “I’m playing a game here, Bria,” I say.

“And you should keep on doing that,” she says, turning to kneel over me, running her fingers over and around my belly. “I don’t need anything in return.”

I frown, eyes on the screen. “In return for what?”

“In return for this,” she says. And her fingertips dance along my hips and sides in a way that’s just magical. It’s bewildering, the masterful precision in her touch. Out of nowhere, I get swept up by the merest brushing of my skin, and she has me melting with sensual need, heat blooming between my thighs. She’s not distracting me with tickling me like before, she’s being even meaner.

“Ohhhhh…” I whimper, “Why are you trying to make me lose?” Somehow, I spite her, fight through her attempts to interrupt my game. I’m still working the controller, I’m still beating the level.

“You’re hot, Chloe,” she says, her hand sliding up my ribs, over my bra, fingers running over a breast. “I used to make fun of you, back in high school. Quite a bit.” She’s so gentle, squeezing my chest, toying with my nipple, running her finger around it in little orbits.

It makes me moan. I bite my lip, suck down a breath. I pause the game, look up at her with wide eyes. She’s grinning at me with a hungry glint, and I realize how deliberately she’s arousing me, petting my erogenous zones, turning me on. “What are you doing?” I gasp.

“Take your bra off,” she says.

My refusal springs forth, but at the last moment, it hangs in my throat — held back by the way she delivers the instruction, by the authority in her voice, by the thrill of getting naked.

Bria watches with interest as I pull my sports bra over my head. I arch my eyebrow at her, then resume the video game, topless.

My tits — I think they’re nice, decently sized, well shaped, perky — they’re rolled out, laying flat against my chest. I don’t know why I’m showing them to her, but more than that, I don’t know why she’s not touching them. “Do it already,” I say. “Do that– that thing with your fingers.”

But she doesn’t. Instead, she lifts my shoulders and slides underneath me. I gasp as she rests my weight on her chest, wraps her arms around me from behind. I tense up, feeling vulnerable. “Bria!” I hiss.

“Yes?” she says, her breath gentle and warm in my ear. She slides her palms up my belly, over my rips, and cups my breasts. She makes me moan, touching them in that magical way she has. She runs her hands down my torso, then back up, swirling them this way and then that, never letting me guess where she’ll caress me next. The effect she’s having on me … my cheeks are flush, my nipples are hard, my pussy is so very wet.

“Ohh…” I moan, relaxing into her, into her heat. I somehow manage to beat the level, and it befuddles me. Where did this come from? She was just having some innocent fun at my expense, why am I now so overwhelmingly horny? Why can I not stop thinking about where her fingers will wander next? And she hasn’t even gone near my crotch… “Take my shorts off,” I instruct.

I pull my legs together as she lifts my hips and slides my booty shorts down my legs. I lay back between her spread thighs, the heat of her crotch on my ass. It’s Bria, Bethany’s sister, and if I let myself think about this, it seems weird. So I don’t let myself think about it, and I grind my ass into her crotch.

She licks my ear, runs her hands up my arms, down my sides. “Touch me,” I groan, “Touch me there.”

She knows where. She runs her hands down my thighs, guiding my legs wide. Her hands slide back up, twirl over my mound. One after the other, they brush over my pussy lips, shimmy past my clit. She pulls a hand to her mouth, slickens it with her spit.

I rub my ass into her, knowing she’s as turned on as I am. “Just one more level,” I moan, my fingers working the controller.

“Take your time,” she says, her fingers playing me like I’m a harp. She spreads my pussy wide, teasing its opening with one tender finger. Slowly, she slides it inside me, then back out. She holds it up, shows it sticky, dripping with my heat.

“Hey!” I say, “Stop blocking the screen.”

She chuckles, slides her finger back in me, and then another.

I groan, arching my back, sucking my lip into my mouth. “Ohhnnnggg…”

She licks her fingers again before pushing them back inside me. “You’re like sugar, Chloe,” she coos, lips brushing my ear.

And then her fingers press inside me, curling and twisting, spreading me open, spiking me with bliss. The game controller falls to the bed, forgotten as I whimper and writhe. I didn’t expect an orgasm so soon — I didn’t expect an orgasm at all, really — but the way she holds me, the way her fingers play me, I’m a puddle, my toes curling, my jaw hanging open, my head rolled back. The ecstasy courses through me, shoots through my sinews.

I don’t even know where she’s touching me, it’s everywhere all at once. My back’s arching, my legs writhing as she tantalizes me. Her fingers play with my nipples, slide through my armpits, run circles over my belly, draw lines down my thighs, wrap around my neck, slip into my mouth.

And yet, they never leave my pussy. She pants in my ear while they thrust into me with delicate ferocity. There’s no rhythm to her touch, no steady pace for me to learn and anticipate. She’s wild with contradictions, frantic but precise, intense but gentle, animalistic but intentional. I am swept over by an avalanche of pleasure, impossible to control, impossible to predict. Tears streak down from my eyes, sweat pours from my skin, mixes with hers.

Maybe I’m riding a second orgasm, or maybe it’s a continuation of the first. It doesn’t matter. I’m spasming, bucking, drooling. I roll my head to the side, discover her lips, kiss her.

Her lips rub against mine as she speaks. “You’re so fucking sexy, Chloe.”

I’ve forgotten how to form words. I kiss her again, sloppy and wet, shoving my tongue in her mouth. She’s so gorgeous, so elegant.

And she just keeps going and going and going, her fingers giving me no reprieve, pushing me further and further into the depths of ecstasy. She holds me against her, hot with lust, with desire of her own. “You turn me on so hard,” she growls.

And then she does something I wondered impossible, turning her fingers inside me just so, shooting me to a height of euphoria I didn’t suspect existed. I wail, I think I even scream. She holds me there, drawing it out as long as she can.

But there’s a limit to even what she can do, and eventually I must come down.

She hugs me as I return, and I lay panting in her arms. I blink my eyes open, let them focus. Bethany is standing in the doorway of her bedroom, towel wrapped around her, jaw slack with disbelief, eyes wide. We make eye contact.

“Uh, hi,” I say, weakly.

“Hey, there,” grins Bria, “I forgot how cute your friend was.”

“What. The. Fuck?”

“I, um…” I giggle, “Your sister and I were just catching up.”

Bria laughs.

“Oh my god,” Bethany says, burying her face in her hand. “Why did you have to use my bed?”

NSFW: yes

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