Unspoken Pleasure by Erotica

sseparate, bubble universe.

The way everything beccasual, however, was also nearly our downfall. Three times, with three separate

people, we were almost caught.

The first was my fault. It happened a little over a week after we'd started our escapades. The family had finished

dinner and was watching TV. It was one of those rare evenings when all six of us were home, and Lucy and |

found ourselves sitting on the floor, in front of the couch.

Lucy turned to me, mid-episode, and cocked her eyebrow. She subtly jutted her chin. That was all | needed to

know. | gave her a single nod.

It was on.

A moment later, Lucy said she was feeling tired and went to her bedroom. | waited what felt like a good amount

of t(but was probably only two minutes) and followed her upstairs.

| found my sister already lying on her pillow. She gavea big, goofy grin as | lay down next to her. The process

of this had madestart to chub up, but I'd learned to (literally) push through such things. We humped the

ground together, the sounds of boring TV news playing in the distance.

There was this strange intimacy to our act, stolen in little moments. For the most part, | stayed within myself,

engaged in my own fantasies. But then | would hear Lucy make a little gasp as she hit the right spot. Or | would

grunt with the exertion of the act. Sometimes we'd accidentally bump each other -- arms or legs, never anything

more. It was strangely reassuring, an encouragement of the illicit actions we were sharing.

"What are you guys doing?"

| froze. | slowly turned my head to the source of the sound. Our younger sister, Lindsay, was standing in the

doorway. In my haste, I'd forgotten to close Lucy's door. Damned.

Lindsay was 17, mousy and thin, with light brown hair (the scolor as mine) that hung almost to her waist.

She was wearing her usual workout outfit -- a tanktop and yoga pants. She eyed us, confused, like someone

searching for an obvious word but unable to find it in the moment.

"Nothing," Lucy said, like this was a perfectly satisfying answer. She didn't even get off the pillow. Just spun

around and stared up at our younger sister. "Go away."

Lindsay did not do that. Instead, she stayed at the door, narrowing her eyes like she was processing everything.

"It's fine, Lindsay," | said, the panic rising in my throat. "We're hanging out."

"We're planning your birthday gift," Lucy said. This was a particularly bad lie, since we were doing nothing that

looked like planning. And Lindsay's 18th birthday was still a good two months away.

But while our youngest sister was super sweet, she wasn't very sharp. She wasn't a dope, just far too trusting.

The kind of girl who couldn't understand that people might lie to her for their own benefit. "Oh!" she said,

brightly, "OK." And quickly scampered away.

| wasn't going to argue with our good luck. | got off the floor, gently closed Lucy's door, and returned to what we

were doing.

The second twe almost got caught, though, was on Lucy (somewhat). It was a Saturday afternoon, a week or

so later, and she foundwatching TV in the living room. She was wearing a white t-shirt with a pink Tom Nook

on it, as well as a pair of green sweat-shorts. Her breasts and bottom seemed liable to break out of both at any

minute.

Lucy gaveour signal and | got off the couch. But instead of leadingback to her bedroom, Lucy shook her

head.

"Here," she said. That one word was shocking, for all that it implied. | glanced around the room. Right out in the

open? We were sure to be seen.

"No one's home," Lucy said, "They're all out doing errands or whatever." She grabbed a pillow off the couch --

blue, small, and squarish -- and dropped it on the floor.

"Are you sure?"

Lucy gavea chastising look. You'd think that would be hard based on how she was lying on her groin, getting

ready to fuck the hell out of that poor cushion. But, somehow, my older sister still managed to look disdainful. |

shrugged and dropped next to her.

| have to admit, changing our surroundings did something to the whole experience. I'm not saying we got bored

of the usual stuff, but after weeks of it, there was a sort of numbness to the routine of it all. Doing it in another

place -- a room where we spent so much twith the rest of our family -- gave everything a sharper edge.

| went over the top first. Unlike Lucy's peak, mine required spost-orgasm maintenance. So, | got up to go

find a tissue. Fortunately, my splooge had mostly stayed in my shorts, though | had a drop or two on my leg.

As | went toward the bathroom,

however, | felt a hand on my chest. |

stopped in place. RAVER of

Te flomeone op the stairs, was

our oldest sister, Jan. My

twenty-three-year-old sibling had

obviously seen everything. So much

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Jan raised her eyebrow atin a way that was totally different than Lucy's come-hither gesture. It was more like

drawing a dagger.

I" [ :

Tellyou two aren't doing what |

2 1 : n .

think you're doing," Jan said. Even

though it was a weekend, she was

dressed in a nice, PRPs

dpa skikt. She’had her

near-black hair tied back in a severe

|

bun. She'd done her makeup, as well,

making her angular features appear

almost devastatingly beautiful. | felt

. fl

very much like a turd she'd found on

f n FO | :

the stairs. "Tellthis isn't what it

: n

looks like," Jan repeated. The content

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chapter there!

| paused. | didn't know what to say, except to parrot it back. "It isn't what it looks like," | said. Like that was going

to make a difference.

Jan's blue eyes, remarkably similar to Lucy's, hardened.

"It's not," | said.

"OK," Jan said. | braced for the impact. Instead, my oldest sister stareddown for another moment, then spun

on her heel and walked away.

Later, | told Lucy about it, expecting her to freak out. Instead, she laughed.

"Don't sweat it," my blonde, older sister said, a smile still playing on her cute face. "Jan's not going to do

anything."

"I don't know," | said, "She seemed pretty angry."

"Jan's always angry," Lucy said. | couldn't argue with that. "I'm sorry she caught us. | didn't realize she was

home. But Jan's not the tattling type. She's happy to ignore us. Trust me. We just need to be more careful."

Our last brush with danger came

soon after. It was by far the most

chaste, yet it felt like the riskiest

moment of al, ugand fad’

fiRisRed Niher and were headed

upstairs for our evening session. But

: '

as we were about to go into Lucy's

room, Mom called after us. Lucy and

| shared a nervous look. We walked

back down to the kitchen. The

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