1

I didn't ever think I'd be balls deep in my sister, watching her clit glisten as I piped her on the family sofa. It just kind of happened.

If you want to blame somebody, blame our selfish-ass parents for going away and not taking us with them. They were the ones that told Sophie to pick me up during winter break and it was their idea for us to stay at their house together while they were out of town.

You really want to blame someone, blame mom and dad for giving the two of us such killer genes. I mean, Sophie would look at herself in the mirror growing up and say, “I'd fuck me,” and I couldn't disagree. We were cut from the same cloth. What we did, some would consider it self-love.

The rents, that's what Soph used to call them. The rents were snowbirding in Miramar Beach and they knew I didn't have a car ever since I crashed my beater during spring break. So they sent Soph to pick me up.

I had three weeks off till my next semester and I had no idea what I was going to do to fill that time. College had inured me to binge drinking and skirt chasing.

Everything seemed utterly boring to me these days. And worse, I didn't have anything to study on my time off because I hadn't yet declared my major. In short, I didn't know what the fuck I was doing or how to figure it out.

Getting picked up at school by my older sister wasn't something new, but it wasn't something I thought I'd ever get used to. Call it toxic masculinity, but some part of me always thought it should be me picking her up instead of the other way around.

The last time she had scooped me up was in my freshman year of high school. She was eighteen at the time, just graduating, and she brought all of her girlfriends along for the ride.

They leaned out her car windows and loudly ooed and aahed as I approached her Honda Civic.

“Move your ass,” Sophie yelled. “We're gonna be late for your ballet class.”

She didn't mean to get me ridiculed by my peers, she just wanted to make me blush, and at that she had succeeded.

I remember the look on my classmates' faces, the mix of amusement and awe. Sure, the hottie in the driver seat was fucking with me... but a carload of hot seniors fucked with me. It was enough to earn me bragging rights and attention from the girls in my grade who thought I hung out with older “women.”

Now, five years later, Soph was picking me up again... but the girl who pulled up to my dorm was not the eighteen-year-old girl who'd teased me outside Michael Kenyon High. This was a twenty-two-year-old woman, a tough, confident, sexy woman who commanded a room.

She wore her hair in brown ribbons, cut short into a pixie around her forehead, and she wore copious amounts of smoky eyeliner around her piercing hazel eyes. Her puffy lips receded as she smiled—a warm, joyful, mischievous little kid smile.

I was reminded of how her overbite turned me on when I was going through puberty—how I would stare at her as she sipped soda from a straw while curled up on the living room couch. I would look away nervously when she noticed, which caused her to smirk, something I would catch when I would steal another glance in her direction.

Hot damn, I thought. Sophie's even hotter now than she was when we were kids!

She wore a simple black turtleneck and a pair skintight black leather pants that showed off her rounded ass cheeks. The tightness of the pants drew my eye to her strappy black heels and the slender, pale ankles they hugged. She had feet that were meant for heels—high arches and crinkly borders.

She sauntered around her new ride—a sweet little black Fiat—and rested her charitable buns against the passenger side door, folding her arms in front of herself.

“Hey spazz,” she said, “you ready for your rectal exam?”

“Nice,” I replied, making like I was going to kiss her cheek before faking like I was puking.

She did the same, loudly retching for any passersby to hear. Then she laughed and slipped her big black sunglasses on.

“Get in,” she said.

I hopped into the passenger seat as she hurried around the front of the car. I watched her strut around, her cheeks clapping together through the snug leather fabric.

She climbed in beside me and shut her door. Then she revved the engine and threw 'er in drive, peeling out like she was dodging a professorial loan shark.

“Is that facial hair real?” she asked, running her fingers across my upper lip.

“Yes, it's real,” I sighed, swatting her away.

“You sure about that? Sure you didn't Superglue your roommate's pubes to your chin?”

“You sure you don't got your mensies?”

“Cute,” she laughed. “You eat?”

“Nah,” I said. “Caf is grotesque.”

“Bullshit. I heard the food's all bougee here.”

“Not even. Mixed greens? Wedge of iceberg lettuce with sliced pickles on top.”

“Ggg,” she cringed.

I watched her as she drove, her delicate fingers clasping the steering wheel. Her nail polish was frayed, her cuticles freshly bitten. There was something very vulnerable about her hands that belied her poised demeanor.

“How did they talk you into it?” I asked.

“What? Picking up my little brother from college an