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"writing": "[i]We can’t keep going on like this. Right? Something’s gotta change. Or maybe it’s…[/i]\n\nMax rolled over and tugged the sheets up closer to his chin, half-closed eyes looking out his bedroom window. The parents were home, he and his sister had class tomorrow, and sleep just seemed to evade him; he reached over to the nightstand, tapped at his phone, saw the time, sighed again.\n\n[i]I guess it’s always changing. I barely remember the first time we… did anything, but it seemed so…[/i]\n\nAt least he could recall Erika’s smile, the saucy glimmer in her eyes, the sound of her voice. The way she had reached for and guided him around, how she had felt beneath his paws, how they had felt [i]together.[/i]\n\nHe reached up and pressed his paws against his eyes, rubbing in, holding back a frustrated groan. [i]God. I’m such a fucking joke. ‘I think I’m falling in love with my sister’. What the fuck ever. There’s no way she feels the same way. Right? All of the times we’ve… messed around, she’s had that – same look to her. She knows it’s wrong, she knows it’s nasty, and that’s what does it for her. Same thing with the dogs, and taking me out to do it at the park, or on the bus, or in the mall… am I just reading way too into this?[/i]\n\nEven though he had [i]just[/i] rolled over, he did so again and faced the mostly-closed door again. From outside he heard the soft sounds of the TV out in the living room, likely their father dozing off while watching his usual late-night shows again.\n\n[i]But I…[/i] He grabbed his phone again, this time unlocked the screen – and turned the brightness way down as he did so – and tapped over to his text messages. He kept Erika pinned at the very top, tapped on her name, scrolled through. [i]There’s a lot more there to it. For me, at least. I like the risk and the taboo, sure – how couldn’t I? – but it goes beyond that. I’d love to be able to say “yeah, this is my girlfriend,” when we go around. I’ve…[/i] He paused, blinked, swallowed.\n\n[i]I already think of her that way, don’t I? To myself, at least. I like it when we sit on the couch together and I lean my shoulder in against hers. I like when we’re out and about, and I can slip my paw into hers, and she does the same… she squeezes back because she feels the same way, right? That’s not something that just a – just a fuckbuddy would do. And we’ve started kissing, too. Isn’t that, like, the biggest no-no for if you’re trying to avoid feelings?[/i]\n\nOn the last night this past weekend before their parents came back – Max sitting over at his computer halfway into a game, Erika shuffling around the house, having woken up late like usual. She had come over to him, draped her arms over his shoulders, and he could tell that she hadn’t yet showered; she smelled of her instead of her soap and shampoo. She had nuzzled down against him, and her paws had pushed down into the collar of his shirt, and then he had paused his game and turned to face her, and she climbed into his lap…\n\nThe wild dog squirmed now, slid a paw down beneath the sheets, and adjusted how his boxers settled around his slightly stirring sheath. Her scent in his nose, her warmth around his body, how she clamped her legs under his so that she would keep her balance against the rocking of his chair; she had gone far slower, far more deliberate, far more [i]passionate[/i] than their usual bouts, and had squeezed so firmly down onto him when he had gotten close, clenching every muscle in her body, tugging at his knot. Then her paws on his jaw lifting him up, her lips against his, breath puffing out along his muzzle; she had sucked his lip into her maw, and played around it with her tongue, and he had moaned out into her mouth, and she kept on kissing him even after he had finished.\n\n[i]But we’ve never talked about it.[/i] He pressed his paw in against himself, wriggled again, sighed out… rolled onto his back, drawing that paw back away. [i]I guess it’s stupid to try to figure it all out without that. Maybe that’s what I should do, then. I know what I’m feeling, but I haven’t the slightest idea what’s going through her head. Girls are already fucking tough, but throw in – this one being my sister, too? Doomed from the start.[/i] Then another cycle, now facing the window yet again, phone still clutched in his paw.\n\nLooking back through their messages over the months, the transition from just siblings to more was [i]strange,[/i] and became stranger the more he thought about it. [i]Just… how did we even get here? What even happened? How far is it gonna go? Is it-[/i]\n\nOne of his big, radar-dish ears twitched in the still air of his bedroom, flicked, swung back towards the door. Max tensed up a little bit; he thought he felt the shift in currents from the door opening a little bit and then closing, then [i]definitely heard the soft [i]chff-chff[/i] of footpaws on carpet. He thought about sitting up, thought about turning to see who it was – but then the mattress squished in a little bit, and the sheets lifted…\n\n...and an arm drew in around his bare chest, and Erika’s scent wrapped around him. She took in a breath, sighed softly, and settled her muzzle into the crook of his neck where her whiskers just barely tickled at his cheek.\n\nMax’s heart pounded. Slowly he lowered his arm down across hers, holding it in place; surely she could feel his nervousness, but when he moved his paw over hers, fingers entwining, she simply spread hers to allow him in, then tightened again to hold him there. Max squeezed her paw; Erika squeezed back. He nudged his waist back against hers, and she returned the gesture, but instead of grinding forward again as he had expected, she just wiggled into the close contact, sighed again, and settled down.\n\nMax’s phone screen dimmed, then turned off. He reached over to slide it back onto his nightstand, pressed himself a bit closer to her, and let the sensation of sleep started to wash over him.",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "We can’t keep going on like this. Right? Something’s gotta change. Or maybe it’s…
Max rolled over and tugged the sheets up closer to his chin, half-closed eyes looking out his bedroom window. The parents were home, he and his sister had class tomorrow, and sleep just seemed to evade him; he reached over to the nightstand, tapped at his phone, saw the time, sighed again.
I guess it’s always changing. I barely remember the first time we… did anything, but it seemed so…
At least he could recall Erika’s smile, the saucy glimmer in her eyes, the sound of her voice. The way she had reached for and guided him around, how she had felt beneath his paws, how they had felt together.
He reached up and pressed his paws against his eyes, rubbing in, holding back a frustrated groan. God. I’m such a fucking joke. ‘I think I’m falling in love with my sister’. What the fuck ever. There’s no way she feels the same way. Right? All of the times we’ve… messed around, she’s had that – same look to her. She knows it’s wrong, she knows it’s nasty, and that’s what does it for her. Same thing with the dogs, and taking me out to do it at the park, or on the bus, or in the mall… am I just reading way too into this?
Even though he had just rolled over, he did so again and faced the mostly-closed door again. From outside he heard the soft sounds of the TV out in the living room, likely their father dozing off while watching his usual late-night shows again.
But I… He grabbed his phone again, this time unlocked the screen – and turned the brightness way down as he did so – and tapped over to his text messages. He kept Erika pinned at the very top, tapped on her name, scrolled through. There’s a lot more there to it. For me, at least. I like the risk and the taboo, sure – how couldn’t I? – but it goes beyond that. I’d love to be able to say “yeah, this is my girlfriend,” when we go around. I’ve… He paused, blinked, swallowed.
I already think of her that way, don’t I? To myself, at least. I like it when we sit on the couch together and I lean my shoulder in against hers. I like when we’re out and about, and I can slip my paw into hers, and she does the same… she squeezes back because she feels the same way, right? That’s not something that just a – just a fuckbuddy would do. And we’ve started kissing, too. Isn’t that, like, the biggest no-no for if you’re trying to avoid feelings?
On the last night this past weekend before their parents came back – Max sitting over at his computer halfway into a game, Erika shuffling around the house, having woken up late like usual. She had come over to him, draped her arms over his shoulders, and he could tell that she hadn’t yet showered; she smelled of her instead of her soap and shampoo. She had nuzzled down against him, and her paws had pushed down into the collar of his shirt, and then he had paused his game and turned to face her, and she climbed into his lap…
The wild dog squirmed now, slid a paw down beneath the sheets, and adjusted how his boxers settled around his slightly stirring sheath. Her scent in his nose, her warmth around his body, how she clamped her legs under his so that she would keep her balance against the rocking of his chair; she had gone far slower, far more deliberate, far more passionate than their usual bouts, and had squeezed so firmly down onto him when he had gotten close, clenching every muscle in her body, tugging at his knot. Then her paws on his jaw lifting him up, her lips against his, breath puffing out along his muzzle; she had sucked his lip into her maw, and played around it with her tongue, and he had moaned out into her mouth, and she kept on kissing him even after he had finished.
But we’ve never talked about it. He pressed his paw in against himself, wriggled again, sighed out… rolled onto his back, drawing that paw back away. I guess it’s stupid to try to figure it all out without that. Maybe that’s what I should do, then. I know what I’m feeling, but I haven’t the slightest idea what’s going through her head. Girls are already fucking tough, but throw in – this one being my sister, too? Doomed from the start. Then another cycle, now facing the window yet again, phone still clutched in his paw.
Looking back through their messages over the months, the transition from just siblings to more was strange, and became stranger the more he thought about it. Just… how did we even get here? What even happened? How far is it gonna go? Is it-
One of his big, radar-dish ears twitched in the still air of his bedroom, flicked, swung back towards the door. Max tensed up a little bit; he thought he felt the shift in currents from the door opening a little bit and then closing, then definitely heard the soft chff-chff of footpaws on carpet. He thought about sitting up, thought about turning to see who it was – but then the mattress squished in a little bit, and the sheets lifted…
...and an arm drew in around his bare chest, and Erika’s scent wrapped around him. She took in a breath, sighed softly, and settled her muzzle into the crook of his neck where her whiskers just barely tickled at his cheek.
Max’s heart pounded. Slowly he lowered his arm down across hers, holding it in place; surely she could feel his nervousness, but when he moved his paw over hers, fingers entwining, she simply spread hers to allow him in, then tightened again to hold him there. Max squeezed her paw; Erika squeezed back. He nudged his waist back against hers, and she returned the gesture, but instead of grinding forward again as he had expected, she just wiggled into the close contact, sighed again, and settled down.
Max’s phone screen dimmed, then turned off. He reached over to slide it back onto his nightstand, pressed himself a bit closer to her, and let the sensation of sleep started to wash over him.",
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