Chapter 1. Stories and Games.

This story starts with me writing a story. Actually, two stories. But 
those stories I wrote were just made up, whereas this story I’m now 
telling you is true, more or less. I've changed some names and details 
to protect the guilty, innocent, and the downright perverted - of 
course - but this is basically how it happened.

The stories I wrote were dirty stories, which I had posted to the 
alt.sex.stories website. It was a way I had found to vent fantasies and 
ideas, I guess. But I admit the stories weren't entirely generic porn - 
they definitely revealed my particular kinks. 

One of the stories was about a group of college students who form a 
"tease club” - basically, it provided them a way to titillate 
themselves and others, but it included a principle of "no-touching." 
They'd give each other "tasks," and there were some rules for assigning 
points. The club consisted of mostly girls, but a few guys were 
involved too. Tasks started out as: flash a stranger; say something 
overtly sexual to someone you know but haven't been involved with; etc. 
Eventually they included: masturbate in public (with or without getting 
caught); bring yourself as close to orgasm as possible and keep 
yourself there for some fixed period of time; etc.

The other story boiled down to a description of a game of truth or dare. 
The main twist was that the people playing were two sets of teenage 
siblings. This revealed certain kinky incestual tendencies of mine, I 
guess… but I didn't let my characters consummate anything – it was just 
lots of "show and tell." The farthest things went was toward the end of 
the story, when the "showing and telling" involved a substantial load 
of cum emptied onto one of the girls' faces.

Actually the second story I described above was the first I posted - 
about a year ago. Then, three months ago, I posted the other one - the 
tease club - although I'd actually been working on that one quite a bit 
longer.

About a month after posting the tease club story, I got an email - fan 
email, I guess. I'd gotten two or three emails about the first truth or 
dare story - nothing memorable, however. But this was the only one I 
ever received about the tease club story.

It’s possible I may have gotten others, for either of the stories, but 
if I did, I must have deleted them, thinking they were spam. I didn't 
reply to the ones I got about the truth or dare one - they were pretty 
generic, in the vein of: “hey, thanks for the story, good plot, good 
writing, keep up the good work.” But the email I got after my tease 
club story was rather more compelling. 

For one thing, it was from a woman - at least, allegedly a woman - I'm 
realistic enough to know, in this world of online kinks, that these 
things are not always what they seem. The email address also seemed one 
I recognized, but I wasn’t able to place a name or face with it, and 
supposed it might have belonged to one of my many fleeting online 
friendships.

But the note also contained a sort of invitation to reply. I won't 
quote it at length, but in summary, she said she liked the story, was 
recently divorced, had played around a little bit with public sex and 
"teasing games" with her ex, and had very much enjoyed it. She said 
that she found the idea of having tasks assigned to her “weirdly but 
strongly appealing. “ At which point, she hinted how much she would 
love to find someone who would step into that sort of role for her, “no 
strings attached.” 

Naturally, I was skeptical, but nevertheless decided to reply. I stayed 
very noncommittal, just saying that I appreciated the email and, adding 
that I was a big fan of "delayed gratification" and task-based (as 
opposed to physical, I guess) "discipline" – I don't know that 
“discipline” is even the right word, since what I'm into is a sort of 
give-and-take, and is not based on a simple, one-party-in-charge sort 
of game.

I included an anecdote of how I had once played (ok, "cybered") with a 
woman online, where I gave her things to do, and she described what she 
did, and she gave me things to do, and I described what I did. "Who 
knows if she was really doing them…" I commented, but added, "it's more 
the mind game anyway, I guess - so maybe it didn't really matter."

Anyway, I rambled on a bit, on this riff... but I carefully avoided 
making any explicit offer to play a game. And so I sent it off.

Only after she replied to this email did I finally realize why her 
email address had looked oddly familiar – literally. 

You see, I suddenly recognized her email address as one my sister had 
once given me as an "alternate" address a few years back - not her 
"main email," but one she gave me one time when she was having trouble 
with her ISP. It was one of those free, yahoo web-mail accounts. You 
get the picture.

Oh my god, I thought – my sister was a fan of my dirty writing. And to 
be honest, as the content of my first story described above would hint, 
I'd had my share of fantasies about my sister. This was too weird to be 
true… I was in shock and disbelief... and, of course, highly intrigued, 
too. 

I suppose, before going too much further, I should describe myself: I'm 
mid 30's, white, middle class. Not in great shape, but recently I’ve 
lost a bunch of weight and started trying to jog a few times a week, so 
I was feeling more in control of my life and happier with my physique 
than I had in a long time. I went through an unpleasant divorce about 6 
years before, and had no kids.

My older sister was just past 40, and nothing like me in appearance, 
since she was, in fact, adopted; she was African-American. 

Despite that (or because of it?), we'd been extremely close, as 
siblings go, as children. Inseparable playmates, despite the age 
difference. Then, we grew apart during the adolescent years, however. 
High school was a period of alienation and difficulty for both of us 
(wasn't it that way for most teenagers?) and I'm sure the raging 
hormones didn't help.

Since that time, nevertheless, we'd evolved a fairly easy-going and 
also quite candorous friendship. Nothing super close, as we lived in 
different states and had very different lives, but it was cool. I 
certainly have harbored many fantasies about her. Ironically, most of 
them were during our adolescent years, when we were so noncommunicative. 
I even vividly remember several embarrassing attempts to "spy" on her, 
and one not-so-successful effort to "flash" her, when I had been an 
awkward 13 and she was a suave, 18-year-old, highly popular cheerleader.

But nothing had ever led me to think they'd ever be more than fantasies. 
Until now.

Denise was a short, broad-shouldered woman, but in excellent shape. 
Some might call her stocky - she definitely did not possess an 
hourglass figure. She was a bit too thick in the middle, and was what 
is called “big-boned.” But I still thought her very attractive, and she 
frequented a gym and was in pretty good shape. At the least, she was 
definitely in better shape than I was, anyway. 

Caffe latte skin, but clear complexioned, she had a lovely, almost 
regal face, and despite having had two children, her apple-sized 
breasts were as perky as I remembered from my teenage obsessions. She'd 
described herself fairly accurately in her email, although, 
interestingly, she skipped her skin-tone.

In her email, she'd said she was recently divorced. In fact, my 
sister’s husband had committed suicide the year before, after their 10 
year-old son had died tragically in an automobile accident. This 
untruth didn’t really bother me or seem inconsistent - I thought it a 
very understandable white lie, as those are not the kind of tragedies 
one conveys to newly-met internet strangers, especially as a part of a 
“getting-to-know-you” prelude to sexual play. Most notably, however, 
she signed the email "Denise N." (Her husband's last name was Nguyen - 
did I mention that this African-American woman, raised in white 
suburbia, had married a manic-depressive Vietnamese physicist?). 

Over all, the remembered email address, combined with the convergence 
of most of the details she'd given in her email, had me convinced it 
really was my sister I was corresponding with.

How strange, then. 

So... what did her reply say? I saw in this second email from her that 
she had managed to read into my reply that I was volunteering to "play" 
a game with her. She seemed to imagine I’d give her "tasks," just like 
in my tease club story, via email. Or anyway, she pretended to 
misunderstand my rambling email as such, in hopes I would take the bait. 

I'm not sure I would have gone along with it, except for one thing: the 
realization it was my sister, and the way this fact converged so 
tightly with certain long-abandoned fantasies of my own. Given that 
secret and tantalizing bit of knowledge, combined with my lifelong 
crush on my sister, however - how could I resist?

So I wrote back again, very friendly, if a little bit breathless, and 
gave her a simple task: go pantiless for a day. The email I sent was 
brief and to-the-point - I couldn't believe this was happening, but I 
wanted to be careful and not turn her off. It was too promising. 

The next day came her long-winded reply - she’d done it, and as she’d 
expected, it was a blast. She was “so glad” I wanted to play along, 
since she evidently found it easier with someone "directing" her, than 
to get up the gumption to do such things on her own. 

I wrote back and asked if she wanted to take turns, with her giving me 
tasks as well, or if she preferred just receiving. The slowness of the 
email medium was frustrating, as I was used to hot-and-heavy instant 
messages, and had never had an ongoing erotic email correspondence. But 
it was actually remarkably well-adapted to this task-oriented approach 
she was seeking, I supposed.

Denise wrote back that she was happy just receiving tasks for now, but 
that if she thought of something she wanted me to do, she'd send it 
along to me. And of course, she added, “you can tell me if you want me 
to think of something for you.”

She also mentioned and reminded me of something I'd stated in the tease 
club story, which was that tasks for men and woman tend to have 
different requirements and constraints. For example, you can give a 
woman a task to flash a guy, or even another woman, and expect it to be 
received as relatively harmless, or at worst, as a come-on - whereas to 
ask a man to flash a woman is to ask him to risk scandal and possibly 
arrest. So you have to "design" his and hers tasks differently. 

So I sent her another task: masturbate to the point of orgasm before 
getting out of bed for the morning, but not allow herself to finish. 
Then not do anything about it, until the next task. 

She wrote back about how she'd done that, and described her actions in 
much more detail than I could have hoped for. It was at this point that 
she finally revealed her ethnicity, and she gave a fabulous, erotic 
description of herself naked, telling me exactly what she did to 
herself with her fingers.

I was so aroused.

My god, I masturbated to orgasm upon reading it, and, devoid of 
compunctions at this point, wrote her back a detailed description of 
exactly that act - although I carefully neglected to mention that it 
was a glace at a small, framed picture of my sister's smiling face on 
my desk that sent me over the edge.

I was trying to follow along with the plot of the story I'd written, at 
least to the extent of the gradual build up and severity of the dares. 
This was what she'd implied she wanted. More than implied, really - 
she’d expressed that it was the gradualism and delayed gratification 
that I had described in the story that she liked best. For this reason, 
I wanted to stick to that mode as much as I could. Not to mention, it 
was such a turn on, knowing I was making my sister (my sister!) do 
erotic and exhibitionistic things, and that she was loving it.

So, for her next task, I simply gave her the same task again. Let her 
build up, and stew a bit. That evening, her reply email contained a 
confession - she'd lost control. 

That's when she introduced an element that hadn't been a part of the 
tease club story she’d read - she asked if I had a "punishment" for her. 
In the story, if someone failed at a task, they simply had to do it 
again. There hadn't been any "punishment" in the story. Actually, I 
realized, given the tone of her approach, it seemed a logical extension.

I thought about it for a while, though, and concluded she wasn't 
fishing for a real "punishment" - which is to say, I doubted she was 
looking for anything S&M. 

I suspected she just meant she wanted some kind of compensatory task. 
That was my guess, anyway. And in retrospect, I had read it right. 
Therefore, in the spirit of the tasks up to that point, I told her 
“punishment” was only that from now on, she wasn't allowed to touch 
herself at all - at least, not intimately (meaning no touching her 
nipples or pussy) - until I gave her a task that specifically allowed 
her to do so. Except as minimally necessary to stay clean, of course.

And, for her next task, I told her to go braless to work, with a silk 
blouse. 

She's not large-breasted - about a B cup, or C cup at the most, I guess. 
Nice half-spheres though, that had been fodder for lots of daydreams 
when I was younger. I'd never seen them naked, or even braless, that I 
knew - and so her reply contained new information: she has quite large, 
darkly colored, cone-shaped areolae (what are called in porn-lingo 
"puffies," she admitted to knowing), capped with prominent, "highly 
responsive" (her words) nipples, that are pretty obvious, even when not 
erect, due to their size and positioning.

In her latest task, she dealt with the coloration issue by wearing a 
dark colored blouse (since I hadn't specified), but the prominence was 
something she couldn't hide, though she wore a blazer - which actually 
left her more "stimulated" as she put it, as the edge of the blazer 
would rub against her nips through the blouse.

She went on to describe how the AC in the building where she worked was 
set too low, and as a result her nips were hard all day. She described 
the surreptitious stares she'd gotten from her male coworkers - and 
even a few female ones too. 

She also explained how frustrated she'd become, at this point - having 
not cum in over 3 days, and with too much stimulation. I told her in my 
next note to be patient, and to "behave," and I'd get her there 
eventually.

Her next task was to go pantiless again, but this time no "cheating" by 
wearing pants (as she'd done the first time, since I hadn't specified) 
- I told her to wear a skirt, as professional as necessary for work, 
but not too long. And no pantyhose either. Bare to the world.

The next evening when I got home from work, there was no email waiting 
for me from her. Her first lapse. Normally, I got her evening emails 
when I got home from work, since she was a few time zones east of me. 
But, lo and behold, there was a phone message from my sister. For the 
first time, it occurred to me to wonder if she knew who she was 
corresponding with.

My conclusion was: no way. Still, there was something tantalizing and 
awkward about hearing her voice, in light of the new information I had 
about her lifestyle and interests, and the input I'd had to her recent 
behavior. It was a very typical short message from her: hi bro, hope 
things are good, and hey, are you thinking of coming out for 
thanksgiving? 

This was nothing unusual - I'd spent several thanksgivings with her and 
David and Melissa (Melissa was their exotic-looking, half-Asian, half-
African American daughter) - but not since David had died. I thought, 
in a moment of normalcy, that it was good she was getting back into a 
regular life - getting over the stress and mourning of his death and 
their son’s, etc.

But then, of course, I thought… how eerie and wild it would be to see 
her again, after what had been transpiring, semi-anonymously, between 
us. Still, I procrastinated on returning her call, obviously feeling a 
bit strange about it, and not wanting to screw it up by revealing an 
unaccustomed eagerness that would have been totally at odds with my 
typically laconic character, which was all-too-well-known to Denise.

Right before bed, I checked my email again. Finally, there was a note 
from her - saying she'd been busy all evening and that she had managed 
to complete the dare that day, but “with complications,” as she put it. 
She went on to say she'd explain tomorrow, as she was very tired and 
was going to bed. 

Hmm, complications? 

Chapter 2. Mysteries: A Sudden End?

I sent Denise an email saying that she could take a break from any 
tasks the next day, but that she still must refrain from touching 
herself until I instructed her to do so.

The next day was a Saturday, and I got a very long note from her. 
Basically, the thing she’d called a complication wasn't such a big deal 
- but I guess she'd found it embarrassing. She explained that she had 
been holding a birthday party for her daughter, where some of her 
daughter's friends came over. It being a Friday, things went late. 

I knew that my sister’s daughter Melissa had just turned 14, and this 
confirming detail from my online correspondent was exciting - but this 
was the first I'd heard about a daughter from my correspondent. I knew 
I had to be very careful and not show any knowledge of details of her 
life that she hadn't yet "revealed" to me in her emails to me - 
otherwise she might come to suspect that I wasn't the total stranger 
she thought I was. 

So anyway, she explained that several of her daughter's friends had 
been over and that once they'd had dinner, one of her daughter's 
friends asked Denise why she hadn't changed from her "work clothes," 
(which apparently was her typical habit) and Denise had been at a loss 
to explain (her words: "to say something to the effect of: oh it's a 
dare from a stranger on the internet to stay pantiless all day, under a 
skirt - seemed a bit too obvious").

That was all. I think she read too much into the girl’s question - like 
that the girls suspected something. That’s what she’d called 
complications. But I was gratified that she was confiding more in me, 
and of course it was thrill knowing how awkward my beloved sister might 
have felt in that situation, even if it was mostly in her head.

So for her next task, I told her to take a long bath or shower (as she 
preferred) and toy with herself extensively, but again not to let 
herself cum. Then she was to run at least one errand on Sunday, to a 
public place, with only a light-colored blouse and skirt, no underwear, 
bra or panties. 

Her note on Sunday night was very fun and erotic to read - she 
described in detail how she bathed, "diddled herself," and then shaved 
all but a "nice little landing strip" on her pussy, leaving the lips 
"glossy smooth" as she put it. She explained how she'd been so horny 
that "the moisture glistened in the mirror" before she got dressed. How 
she put on a nice denim skirt and a lovely emerald-green blouse 
(exactly her color!), and had gone to run her errand, only to have her 
daughter (who she called Lissa in her email - an eerie bit of realism, 
since that's what I always heard her call her, whenever I'd been 
around) say something like "hey mom, why're you all dressed up… oh my 
god, mom, I can like see thru your blouse." She told how, in 
embarrassment, she'd had no immediate answer for Lissa, but anyway, she 
went out to the Target store and pushed a cart around acquiring 
household goods in a daze, while strange men leered at her, vaguely. 
All that.

"Glad to hear you had a fun day," I wrote back, tongue-in-cheek. Then, 
I told her that her next task was to masturbate for at least 30 minutes 
the next morning before going to work, but still no cumming. Also, I 
asked if she owned a dildo or vibrator, and if so, to describe it.

Her reply Monday night was short and a bit desperate: "when do I get to 
cum? Please!?" I laughed at that. She also explained that her only 
dildo had disappeared a while back (“must've misplaced it during the 
long "dry spell" after my husband left,” she said; using the word 
"left" not died, so that one white lie was something she was sticking 
to, I guess). So no, she didn't have a dildo.

For a task, then, I told her she had to buy a new one on Tuesday, 
whatever sort she liked, but that it shouldn't be too "modest," and 
that she needed to use it (only briefly) and describe it in her next 
note. I told her if she was "good" with this task I would let her cum 
on Wednesday. 

I should note that, just as with instant message conversations, it had 
occurred to me that the other person might be "faking" some or all of 
what was going on. I'd known myself to exaggerate or pretend in 
response to others via IM, and had always given the benefit of the 
doubt to my interlocutors as well. But, I thought, even if she was just 
writing fiction, this was still so wildly real to me, because it was 
still so clearly my real sister with whom I was corresponding, and 
apparently, she had no clue who I was. 

Anyway, her note on Tuesday explained how she'd gone to a sex-shop 
after work, picked out a "rather large, pinkish, life-like" dildo - 
"you know, the kind with veins, and shaped right" - she thought it 
would be what I had in mind. About 10 inches long, and fairly thick. 

She'd taken it home, after enduring the lurid stares of the men in the 
sex shop, and raced to her room to ram it into her pussy, and now she'd 
sat down to write me a note. "and I've got it clamped in there right 
now, while I sit at my laptop typing this, but I'm not moving it around. 
Can I please USE it?" she added. 

I sent back that yes, her next assignment was to use it to bring 
herself off. But the catch was, it couldn't be at home. She had to pick 
a place somewhere else (probably a restroom, I speculated) to do it. 
And she definitely had to finish - at least 5 full minutes of "pumping" 
as I put it. 

"Wow," she wrote back, the next day. "This is so much exactly what I 
was hoping for, when I decided to take a chance and write to you. I 
LOVE what you're making me do." 

She went on to describe how she smuggled the dildo into work in her 
purse, and, getting there a half hour early, with the place largely 
deserted, she got into a stall in the restroom and "fucked myself 
silly." A wonderful image, I thought. She explained how she soaked the 
toilet seat, and had to put on fresh panties (which she'd had the 
forethought to bring with her - always well-organized, that's my sister 
Denise!). 

I told her I was very impressed. I was. "So," I asked, "are you ready 
to flash someone? If so, who would you flash?" I wanted to give her a 
chance to provide some input, hopefully thus keep her from feeling she 
was too far out of control, I guess. Meanwhile, I told her that her 
task the next day was to wear a skirt, pantiless, again, and think 
about flashing a guy (or woman, if she wanted) up her skirt, and who it 
would be.

She wrote back that she felt it would be better to flash a stranger 
than someone, say, at work. Maybe someone at a place where she often 
went to have lunch, a sort of downtown mall food-court, near her work. 
She said she nearly went ahead and did it, that day at lunch, at a good 
looking busboy who was there. "I aimed, but didn't fire," as she 
humorously put it. 

So, I sent back: "Go for it - I think someone at your lunch spot is a 
perfect idea. Your task is to flash him a good view of your crotch, 
with white lacy panties, for at least 10 seconds."

She completed this task, and a few escalations of this same one, over 
the next several days and through the weekend. On Sunday, I had her go 
shopping for shoes, with instructions to do the classic expose-
yourself-to-the-shoestore-clerk. Though, in keeping with my commitment 
to gradualism, I let her do this with panties. Then on Monday, the dare 
was to masturbate that morning, no cumming, and to flash a guy at lunch, 
but now pantiless, for the first time. 

Meanwhile, Denise (that "other" Denise, as I sometimes 
compartmentalized her) had called me on Sunday evening, and had gotten 
me to commit to flying out over thanksgiving. All innocence, but very 
chipper in her conversation, a few hints at how "great" her life had 
been lately, but nothing clear. I didn't pry - of course, I knew. If I 
hadn't known, I'd have been led to speculate, because of her tone, that 
maybe she finally had found a boyfriend or something.

In a weird sense she had, I thought… and my imagination went into 
overdrive, at the thought of being there at her house over thanksgiving, 
after what we'd been "sharing." Meaning: I was developing some 
fantasies around the sorts of dares I could give her "around the house" 
while she had "guests" - namely, me.

That Monday I got a short note, thanking me for the great task, and 
promising me more news the next day. I sent her a task to repeat the 
dildo-in-the-restroom one, but this time, she was to do it while there 
were more people in the office (i.e. it had to be during regular office 
hours).

And no reply. We'd be corresponding for over 2 weeks, and this was the 
first day she'd missed completely. I sent a note, saying I hoped 
everything was alright, but found myself imagining the worst - that 
she'd figured out who I was, say, or something had gone wrong with her 
task, that she'd been caught. The former would've been much scarier 
than the latter.

It occurred to me that I was putting my relationship with my sister at 
risk through this deception, and I had my first twinges of guilt and 
conscience. I might have given it up entirely, except that the 
subsequent days events took the whole thing in a very bizarre, perhaps 
disturbing, but, without a doubt, definitely more intense direction.

It wouldn't have been difficult for her to figure out who I was. The 
email address I was using was anonymous, and I was using the same 
pseudonym I'd used to post the stories, but I was using email 
forwarding from a domain that I owned - if she'd been just a little 
more technically sophisticated with computers and the internet, all 
she'd have had to do is view the WHOIS of the domain, to see my name 
staring back at her, awkwardly. I knew I wasn't immune to detection if 
she decided to investigate, and she was no dummy with computers, though 
she generally didn't seem terribly interested in them except as tools 
for get things done.

Naturally, when I didn't hear anything the next night, either, I got 
really worried. I nearly called Denise, to make sure she was OK, but 
thought that would be out of character, given I wasn't supposed to have 
been in daily contact with her, these past few weeks. If I didn't hear 
from her by the weekend, I'd call Denise under the pretense of 
arranging the arrival/departure time of my visit on thanksgiving, 
though it was a bit early for such a call, relative to when I normally 
arranged such things (i.e. day-before-departure is my normal modus 
operandi). 

So, instead, I sent another worried-sounding note, asking if I'd done 
or said something to offend (not likely, though, given the cheerful, 
relaxed tone of everything up to that point), and saying that if she 
wanted to stop, no problem, but I'd still like to stay in touch with 
her, as she'd begun to "feel like a friend" as I put it. 

I had a restless night, wondering if I was becoming infatuated with 
this internet alter-ego of my sister with whom I was having this 
complex, erotic, yet in some way rather impersonal exchange. It was 
easy to see happening, given how much I'd always been secretly 
infatuated by her, in my own distant adolescence.

Finally, on Friday, I got a note from her. Not explaining much, simply 
saying that because of "some things" that happened she did, in fact, 
wish to stop the "game" - "at least for now," she added, mysteriously. 
"But," she continued, "thanks for your concern and kindness." A bit 
impersonal. I couldn't figure out what had happened, and I really did 
imagine the worst - that she'd figured out it was me, her brother Jason. 

Chapter 3. Caught, and the Game Gains a Player.

In the same email where she asked to stop the game, however, Denise 
also asked (sort of off-handedly, it seemed) if I ever chatted via 
instant message, and if so, what was my username - she said that her 
username was the same as her email address. 

I knew this, of course, and had even seen her online, many times. I had, 
however, decided to try to avoid appearing pushy or "stalkerish," and 
so I had never mentioned it and had remained committed to not pressing 
my luck, unless she invited. And... this seemed to be a sort of invite. 

The next day, mid-morning, I was working at my computer (ok, I was 
surfing the internet, reading stories on alt.sex.stories, not actually 
working), when I saw her name go active in the yahoo messenger. Long 
ago, I had created a username for myself to match my authorial 
pseudonym, and so, thinking quickly, I now logged in under it. Somewhat 
trepidatiously, I sent her a message. 

She was more receptive than I'd hoped - she was quite friendly and 
apologetic about "what had happened." I didn't pursue the subject, as I 
sensed her reticence, and I didn't want to seem nosy or pushy. After a 
bit of awkward smalltalk (about the weather - I'd told her where I 
lived, a sufficiently large metropolitan area that I had no worries 
she'd imagine it was her brother).

After a little while, though, she suddenly volunteered that she felt 
like she needed to explain what had so upset her, and what had caused 
her to want to stop. So she began to tell me what had happened,. 

Lissa, her daughter (who, she explained via IM, had just turned 14 - 
another one of those eerily confirming personal details, as if I still 
harbored doubts, but for some reason, I thought of it exactly that way, 
as a “real” confirmation), had apparently decided that her mom was 
"acting strangely" lately, and had therefore gotten nosy. 

Unfortunately, it hadn't taken much for Denise to "get caught" - she 
said that, regrettably, she'd been stupid enough to 1) print out copies 
of the emails we'd been trading, and 2) leave the large pink dildo 
lying with them.

So, the fact was, Lissa hadn't even had to nose around by logging on to 
her mom's computer. It had all been out there "for inspection," as she 
explained: Lissa found the emails and the "giant dildo" in the top 
drawer of her mom's computer desk in the home-office/den - I could 
visualize the desk and den clearly, and I had a stunningly intense 
vision of my niece Melissa popping open the drawer and hefting the pink 
object with an expression of combined curiosity and disgust on her face. 

Of course, Denise might never have known what Lissa had discovered if 
she hadn't walked in on her daughter as she was "inspecting the 
evidence." Placed on the defensive, she'd confronted her mother, and 
seemed very upset, indeed. 

Denise went into some detail on her "fight" with her daughter, in which 
Melissa threw at her an accusation that Denise was, in fact, engaging 
in the exact sort of "risky behavior" that would have left Lissa 
"grounded for life" - i.e. Denise was chatting about sex with strangers 
from the internet. 

It had, as mother-daughter confrontations often do, lead to a very 
tearful and heartfelt talk, but the conclusion Denise had reached, 
though frustrating for her, was that she should stop the game. 

I agreed during our IM conversation that it would be awkward to 
continue. And I really did believe that - it was simply too weird and 
inappropriate to move forward. "At least for now," I added in an 
unrealistically hopeful parenthesis. And so, that's where it lay. 

-.:.-

Over the next month or so, Denise and I continued to share an 
occasional email, but things were oddly vacant, and definitely quite 
impersonal, after the intensity of those weeks. Then, two weeks before 
thanksgiving, I got a short email from Denise in which she said she had 
a "serious question," and to IM her sometime. 

Later that night, I saw her come online, and so I sent her a hello. She 
began by saying not to take anything she said the wrong way, but that 
she had something that was bothering her, and she felt she could talk 
to me about it "safely."

"What's up?" I asked. 

She digressed, saying that she'd recently discovered my "other" story - 
the earlier one (involving the incestual game of truth or dare). I was 
surprised, thinking she'd known about both of them all along. 

"No," she said, and, added that in fact, she might not have emailed me 
in the first place, if she'd seen the earlier one. Uh oh, I thought. 

"Please, just hear me out," she went on. She said her first reaction 
was that it was very "gross" and that it was inappropriate. But then, 
she said, she realized she was a hypocrite. 

Hm, this was going to be interesting, I thought. "Why's that?" I asked. 

"Here's what happened," she continued. About a week after Lissa 
discovered her "secret life," her daughter had come to her, and 
confessed that it was she who'd made Denise’s other dildo "disappear" - 
the one Denise had told me had gone missing some months back. Further, 
Lissa said that she had been "thinking about things," and had decided 
that it wasn't fair for her to not let her mom "have fun" and that she 
[Lissa] felt like a hypocrite.

The catch was - and apparently it took quite a while to get Lissa to 
explain to Denise what she was getting at - Lissa had decided that if 
mom was to be allowed to "play," then it was only fair that Lissa 
should be allowed to play, also. 

"What in the world do you have in mind?" Denise quoted herself as 
asking her daughter, and continued her self-quote, "I don't think 
people like Finn are easy to find." (“Finn” was the name I'd given her 
as my "real" name – something to go behind my authorial pseudonym from 
the alt.sex.stories newsgroup.)

She went on to tell Lissa that Finn probably "wasn't safe," for that 
matter. Basically, Denise trying to admit that the risk had, in fact, 
been unacceptable, and that Lissa had been right to challenge her on it. 

But Lissa had asked, earnestly, "it seems like you do trust him, don't 
you, mom?" Denise had nodded, yes. More talk, more protestations, and 
finally, net result was, Lissa basically had asked to be allowed to 
"play too." Meaning what? "Finn could give us BOTH tasks," she insisted 
to her mom. "Finn," of course, meaning me - Denise’s brother. Whoa.

Denise continued her narration: she had felt angry, once she understood 
what Lissa was getting at. Outraged. "No way," she'd insisted. There 
was something just too weird about doing sexual dares "as a mother-
daughter team or something."

Denise paraphrased her daughter at length, then:

"Don't be a hypocrite, mom," Lissa had argued. "Don't you think it 
would be a great way for me to have some fun, in a relatively safe way? 
I'm a pretty shy girl, no guy has asked me on a date (not that I wanted 
to date those stupid guys from school, anyway, and not that you would 
let me, right?), but I'm 14. I'm a curious, normal, teenager, and of 
course my hormones are out of control." 

To be honest, I was surprised at the maturity of the dialogue (assuming 
it was being accurately reported), considering it was between mother 
and teenaged daughter. But I reflected that it was only to be expected 
- I knew Denise was a committed, decent, but liberal-minded parent.

Denise reported further, Lissa saying, "At least this way, you'd know I 
wasn't sneaking out on you, behind your back, or doing dangerous stuff 
with guys you didn't even know about, like some other girls do. And I 
could get to have some fun, and experience some cool stuff. Right?"

Finally, Denise summarized: as things stood, the answer from her to her 
daughter was still a resounding NO. She'd not even indicated it was 
open to discussion, and Lissa was "off sulking," according the her 
mother's description. That had been nine days ago.

But, meanwhile, Denise had nevertheless been giving it some hard 
thought. Also, Lissa had been not-so-subtly pressuring… saying things 
like "don't you wish you had a hot little task today, mom?" or even, "I 
sure am horny, mom."

Denise claimed to be shocked at these displays of frankness from her 
"randy 14 year old," although she observed, “I remember being 14, 
though - unfortunately, it’s not like I can’t relate.” She admitted, 
also, to being "almost persuaded" by her daughter's persistent 
"perversion." 

So, after all this long narration, Denise had for me, first of all, a 
question that was troubling her conscience: was she a "pervert psycho" 
(as she put it), for having a large part of her that found the 
situation appealing? Exciting, even? Was it incest, for a mother and 
daughter to engage in sexual "tasks" (however "hands-off" they might be 
with respect to each other) that had been "assigned" by the same man? 
Where might it lead? 

And that's the question that had been torturing her for the last week, 
until she she’d discovered my "other" story. Which of course was 
strangely apropos. And what my other story had helped her realize is 
that maybe she wasn't so perverted after all. "I mean, compared to what 
you describe, this thing with Lissa doesn't seem so twisted," she said. 
Gee, thanks a lot, I thought. But I admit I was, even then, excited by 
where this was going - what a wild situation, indeed.

So now, for the last two days, Denise had been wondering if maybe, just 
maybe, she should give it a shot. Meaning: her and Lissa, both doing 
tasks. "What do you think, Finn?" she wrote in the IM window. "Would 
you be willing, or is it simply too weird for even a confessed pervo 
like yourself to take on?" Hmm, if you put it like that, dear sister.... 
if you only knew. 

I tried not to betray my eagerness - though what healthy, self-
respecting internet perv worth his salt wouldn't be eager, at such a 
situation? I was noncommittal in my reply (still via IM). Basically, I 
told her "I think this is your call, Denise," but I added that I didn't 
think it was necessarily wrong, in principle. Very vague, very 
cultural-relativistic. That was the end of that conversation, as she 
had to go.

Then the next day I got a new email. It was from Lissa, using her mom's 
address. 

I should admit, here, that a part of me wondered strongly, at this 
juncture, whether Denise, in fact, was just developing an elaborate 
fantasy (as I'd been known to do myself, at least in one-nighter IM 
situations, where I had all kinds of things "happen" to me, that didn't 
really happen).

Still, I found myself philosophizing.... even if it is a fantasy, it is 
nevertheless my very real, non-fantastical sister's quite perverted 
fantasy. I felt deeply compelled to run with it, and to play along. 
Perhaps I even convinced myself, in my compartmentalizing imagination, 
that it surely WAS just her fantasy, as this gave me a way of avoiding 
the guilt involved at involving an innocent (and minor, for crissakes!) 
in our little game. 

Nevertheless, from that moment, I began, suddenly, to mull the 
possibility that I'd actually have the opportunity to "test" whether it 
was Denise's fantasy or really happening, soon enough, when I went to 
visit them, at thanksgiving. 

In her email, Lissa introduced herself, described herself (quite 
accurately), and said her mom was "sitting right next to me." When 
she's grown, she'll probably fill out and be a bit stocky like her mom, 
but she's currently quite petite, and has got a whithery, asian cast 
from her dad's side: a pixyish, lovely girl. 5 ft tall, A-cup breasts.

Still a virgin, she explained, and basically "completely inexperienced" 
with guys, she admitted, though she's kissed a few, and yes, she'd let 
them feel her up a bit. "But I love how guys look at me now, and 
flirting and stuff. I have a healthy sex appetite" she wrote, "I 
masturbate every day, especially since I found mom's dildo, last May, 
and even more since I found the emails her and you were sending to each 
other. They really turn me on." My god, this was my 14 year old niece 
writing me this, I thought. And with her mother's permission. At least, 
that's what Denise wanted me to believe.

Wow. So they wanted me to give them tasks, just like I had been giving 
to just Denise, before. I wrote back a little note, saying how amazed I 
was being invited to participate in this, and jokingly added "I think 
I'm the luckiest internet perv in the world, right now."

Then I asked them, what kind of boundaries or rules there should be, 
and also, did they want "synchronized" tasks, or separate ones? Meaning, 
did they want to each have the same task each day, or separate tasks 
"in parallel," or did they wish to take turns? 

Denise wrote back that they would play the "boundaries issue" by ear - 
she'd let me know if something wasn't a good idea, or if Lissa didn't 
want to do something or whatever. She also suggested that, at first, 
anyway, they would like to "take turns" - even though that meant they'd 
each have to take a day off between each task, and she understood I 
probably wouldn't "let" them masturbate on their "off" days, which 
would be difficult, of course, for two women accustomed to daily 
gratification. So how about an initial task for Lissa for tomorrow (a 
Friday)?

I thought about what Lissa’s initial task should be. On the one hand, 
she was completely "fresh," in the sense she'd never done anything like 
this before, by her own admission. Or even much of anything more 
conventional, sexually, either, with the exception of some basic 
masturbation. On the other hand, she'd already seen, in great detail, 
the tasks I'd given her mom, and, Denise had revealed, she had also 
read both my stories. So she wasn't exactly naïve, either.

Finally, I wrote back that, first of all, Denise had guessed correctly 
that a basic rule of the game was that as long we were playing, they 
weren't to "touch" themselves, except as part of a task (or to stay 
clean, of course). But, I said, I would be generous, and allow each of 
them 10 minutes a day of masturbation, in the mornings of their "off" 
days, but ONLY without orgasm. And only in the morning, before getting 
up. If they missed their chance, they weren't allowed to "make it up" 
later in the day.

Then, I assigned to Lissa the following simple task: she was to spend a 
day without bra or panties, under whatever clothes she preferred, then 
she was to come home and masturbate to orgasm, and then send me an 
email about it. 

Her reply had a nonchalant tone, but was detailed. She had worn some 
lowrider jeans she liked, and explained how they rubbed against her 
pantiless crotch and made her horny and irritated. And she wore a t-
shirt and a sweatshirt over that, so "my nips didn't really show - 
normally they stick out pretty a lot, kind of like mom's." But she felt 
sexy, she said, and she came really hard when she masturbated when she 
got home. And so, she concluded almost eagerly, what was mom's task for 
the next day?

Her mom's task, for Saturday, was to go with Lissa shopping at the mall, 
and to go into a dressing room and strip completely naked at least for 
a minute and play with herself.

Lissa could "stand guard," I explained, and I commented that having two 
them actually made for a lot more interesting possibilities, since I 
could have one always serve as "lookout" or run interference if 
necessary while other did her task - this was a feature I'd exploited 
extensively in my "tease club" story. 

Denise wrote back that same night, agreeing that she was already "very 
much liking" the team aspect of it, and not only was she quickly 
getting over being disturbed that her partner in crime was her 14 year 
old daughter, but was possibly developing a "much closer, more adult 
relationship with my teenage daughter than I'd have thought attainable 
only a few weeks ago."

She thanked me for being understanding, and for being sufficiently 
"perverted" to be willing to play along. Wow, I was being thanked for 
being a pervert, I thought - that's a new one. And wonderful. 

Chapter 4. Mother/Daughter Togetherness.

That Saturday, during the evening, I got a phone call from Denise, in 
which she sounded, suddenly, less than excited about my upcoming visit. 
I would have described her as "distracted." 

If I had needed any confirmation that she didn't suspect who she and 
her daughter were playing with, that was a good indication - the fact 
was, she was probably suddenly realizing that having her brother around 
for 4 days was going to put a crimp in her and Lissa's fun little game. 
But, hearing her reticence, and wanting to be absolutely certain I 
wasn't the one "making this all happen" as I thought of it to my self, 
I volunteered to cancel my plans. And at that, she quickly backed off 
and said no, no, please come, it'll be good to see you. 

So at that point, having just bought my tickets, I told her of my 
arrival time at the airport on Wednesday night, and following departure 
time that Sunday. She mustered some enthusiasm and then begged off, 
saying she and Lissa had some "things to do." I wonder what?

Only an hour later I got a nice descriptive email, in which they 
described going to a department store and Denise going into the 
dressing room area, which was only curtains, not even little louvered 
doors. With only the thin cloth of the curtains separating her from her 
daughter standing guard outside, and with the mirrors all around, she 
had felt very exposed, and admitted that she had never done anything 
like it before. But the area was largely deserted, and so, with Lissa 
"keeping lookout," she did her task. At one point, Lissa poked her head 
in (unnecessarily, Denise complained) to "see how things were going," 
but Denise protested it was just to increase her embarrassment - which 
it did. 

"Good job, Lissa," I laughed in my response. For Sunday, I gave Lissa a 
task to take a long bath or shower in the morning, then spend at least 
2 hours masturbating, total, but spread out over the day preferably, 
and with no cumming allowed ("to get you ready for the week ahead"). 
And give me good descriptions. "You just want to get your rocks off" 
was Denise's sardonic comment, to this last part of the request (for 
good descriptions). 

But later on Sunday, Lissa sent nearly a full page email in which she 
described her day. She took a long shower and used the "shower thingy" 
for a good 30 minutes and, lacking self control, she came. She asked 
her mom what she should do, and they decided that the best approach 
would be to, first of all, not count that time toward the two hours, 
and also, obviously, to be more careful, moving forward. But she wanted 
to know if I had any other "punishment" for her. My, she was playing 
along just fine with this.

She continued her account: she "took a break," then resumed in her 
bedroom around lunchtime. Her mother had popped her head in, and, she 
writes, "what would have been totally embarrassing just a few weeks ago 
seemed almost kinda natural instead." Nevertheless, she said, she had 
screamed "mom!" A token protest, she admitted. 

But, having an inspiration, she had said to her mom, before she could 
disappear, "as long as you're here, bring me that dildo of yours, I 
want to try it." Once she had it, she shooed her mom out of the room, 
waving it at her like a club and laughing, then she proceeded to try 
inserting it. "I never imagined such a large thing going into me," she 
wrote. "Mom's old dildo - the one I barrowed - is like half the size." 
It only went in about half way before she felt "totally filled up," but 
she "had fun with it." She had to go very slowly, she explained, to 
keep control and not cum again. She also mentioned at this point, that, 
as far as she could tell, she must not have a hymen or it "broke or 
something when I was little, cause I’ve never run into anything putting 
stuff in there."

After dinner she put in another hour at it, this time just "teasing my 
clit" - as she'd only recently figured out how to do, from reading her 
mom's emails to me. "I sat with my legs spread in front of my mirror, 
and watched myself and imagine some guy watching and got so turned on I 
had to stop and just sit there and breathe very shallow for like 10 
minutes to keep from cumming. 

I wrote back and thanked her for the wonderful descriptions. The dare 
for the next day was for Denise to go to a video store and to rent or 
buy a porno - and she was to pick something she would be "embarrassed 
to admit she liked." Then she was to bring it home and watch it with 
Lissa. I admitted that this was a bit like a task for both of them, but 
hoped they wouldn't mind. 

The next evening, fairly late, I got the response. The movie Denise had 
picked actually shocked me a little. The title was inane but the plot 
was: daddy catches daughter masturbating, and "teaches her thing or 
two." It was contrived and had a lousy plot (standard porno fare), they 
both complained, but it had attractive actors. 

Lissa had never actually really seen a porno video before, though she'd 
seen pictures in some magazines and she'd surfed online, with friends. 
She said she thought the men's cocks were "totally awesome" and she 
especially liked the "money shots" as her mom told her they were called. 
She said she felt incredibly horny but "behaved" and didn't masturbate 
afterward. Denise said that her favorite scene was of the girl actually 
getting spied on by her alleged father at the beginning. 

Lissa's task for the next day was to spend the day braless and let at 
least one guy see her hard nipples through her shirt - so no sweatshirt, 
this time, at least not for the whole day. Then, when she got home, she 
was to get naked and watch the porno again before her mom got home, and 
describe the point where she "loses control." So, yes, she was allowed 
to cum. 

The tone in the email I got that evening was breathless. "I can't 
believe I'm doing these things," Lissa wrote. She had worn a thin but 
dark colored blouse with a jacket (as I'd given her permission to do) 
that she was allowed to deploy strategically to prevent excess viewing 
- basically she was allowed to choose her "targets." She'd been very 
excited but also embarrassed by the prospect, and had been very horny 
all day but had procrastinated on actually letting someone see how hard 
her nipples were (almost the whole day, she said).

Finally, "last period, I realized I didn't have much time left and I 
suddenly convinced myself that it would be somehow safer to flash the 
teacher rather than one of the obnoxious guys in my English class. So I 
kind of leaned back and faced the windows (I sit on one side of the 
class) and let my little jacket stay open so my nipple really showed, 
but in a position where basically only the teacher would see." 

She definitely knew her teacher saw her - she caught his gaze and she 
saw that he was perhaps embarrassed and looked away rather quickly. 

In a brief, separate note sent the same evening, Denise asked me to 
send her an IM "as soon as possible." She didn't elaborate. I wasn't 
sure what to make of that. But I immediately checked my IM "buddy list" 
and saw that she was online.

"What's up?" I sent in IM. Denise replied immediately, "We might have 
to take a break for a few days next week." She explained that she was 
going to "have company" over Thanksgiving. Knowing who that company 
would be, I felt it prudent to let her set the tone completely. I told 
her "no problem" and added that I would be traveling over the holiday 
as well, and therefore might not have much time to access emails or IM, 
anyway. Then, unable to resist, I added, "who's visiting?" Even at this 
point, I sometimes felt compelled to probe for confirmations of her 
identity.

"My brother," she replied, curtly. There was a long pause. "When does 
he get there?" I finally asked.

"Wednesday night," she replied. "So we can do things up through 
Wednesday." I again reassured her I had no problem taking a break. Then, 
out of the blue, she said, "you're probably wondering if I would ever 
do something with my brother." I pretended to be clueless. "Come on," 
she shot back, "I know how your mind works, Finn. I read that story you 
wrote, remember?"

We chatted around the topic for a few more minutes, without actually 
hitting on it. Innuendo, joking accusations, that sort of thing. 
Finally, I couldn't hold back anymore. "Are you saying you want me to 
give you a task for while your brother is visiting?" I asked. Long 
pause.

"OK," was the eerily impersonal response. My heart was thudding in my 
chest. "I'll think about it and let you know at the appropriate time," 
I teased back. I asked her if she wanted Lissa to be included. "Of 
course" she sent, with a smiley. I felt totally overwhelmed with 
excitement and anticipation. This was going to really happen, I thought.

Meanwhile, she asked if I had a task for her for tomorrow, since it was 
Saturday. She also suggested that, for the weekends, maybe I could give 
both her and Lissa tasks, for both days. "Remind me, when was the last 
time I let each of you cum?" I asked. It had been a while, I knew. I 
told her I'd send her an email shortly with a task for tomorrow, and I 
signed off the yahoo messenger. I was too cranked up to keep chatting, 
and wanted to make sure I didn't overstep the boundaries I'd set myself 
for this situation.

I confess I fantasized many possible scenarios for Thanksgiving as I 
masturbated that evening. Once I'd relaxed a little bit, I wrote up a 
Saturday task for both of them, and sent it to Denise. She and Lissa 
were to go to a mall or shopping somewhere, together. Both were to be 
without panties or bras, with reasonably short skirts and "easy to 
show" nipples through blouses. They were to each flash at least two 
strangers - once their hard nipples through their thin blouses, and 
once up their skirts - but to try to make as casual and accidental as 
possible. The other was to observe and note the reactions of the person 
being flashed... so they should maybe operate separately. Then they 
could write up what they did and saw for me.

I had two emails waiting for me when I logged on Saturday night - both 
from Denise's address, but clearly one was from her and one from Lissa. 
I read Denise's first, and I found they'd each decided to write what 
the other did. It was very fun and clever the way they did it, actually. 

Denise described Lissa in some detail, what she wore and then talked 
about what she did. Very quickly, shortly after arriving at the mall, 
they went into a store where she pretended to be trying on jackets, and 
thus took off the one she was wearing. There was a male clerk that thus 
got to see her "rigid little nipples" through the thin cotton of her t-
shirt quite a bit. Lissa was much more hesitant about the upskirt flash 
- this was to be her first time, and pantiless, at that! Finally, at 
the food court, after they'd eaten something, Denise went off to go to 
the restroom and left Lissa on her own at the table for a while. The 
plan was that after Lissa saw that Denise was watching, but from a 
distance, she'd do her flash.

The "target" Lissa selected was a guy "in his 20's" sitting a few 
tables away, reading something (a book or magazine). Denise hovered at 
a little display just behind the guy, so as to get a "good 
confirmation" (i.e. a view from his perspective) that Lissa did her 
task. Once Lissa saw her mom in position, she slouched a little in her 
seat and held the magazine she was pretending to read up in front of 
her face so as to "prevent embarrassing eye contact" as Denise quoted 
her daughter. Then she carefully and gradually allowed her legs to 
spread, hoping to make it seem as accidental as possible. The plan was 
that Lissa was to remain on display until Denise confirmed the guy 
actually saw, then Denise would quickly walk over and thus "interrupt" 
Lissa at which point she would know she could stop flashing. 

The thing was, the guy was engrossed in what he was reading, and so at 
least several minutes passed, Lissa slouched and spread and pretending 
to read, and the guy not looking. They'd carefully arranged it so that 
no one else was in the line of sight. Then, unexpectedly, an elderly 
couple came and sat down one table over from the young man, who still 
wasn't looking. Denise nearly cancelled it right then, noting how her 
daughter nervously looked up from the magazine she was pretending to be 
engrossed in, and fluttered her legs closed, as the couple passed by. 

But when Denise saw that they sat in such a way that the old man was 
the one "with the view," and that Lissa was bravely remaining "in 
position," she decided to see what would happen. Within seconds it was 
obvious the man had caught sight of the young woman two tables over. 
Denise moved a few yards over so she could see things from exactly his 
perspective, and found he had a "spectacular view" as she put it. "He 
kind of sat up and stared, quite unabashedly, confident that the young 
woman wouldn't notice him with her nose buried in her magazine. Because 
of the lighting and the angle, Lissa's pussy lips were indeed quite 
visible, along with the lovely tuft of downy black hair right above 
them." 

After the old man had stared for about 30 seconds, Denise decided he'd 
gotten enough, and quickly moved in a circle and came up behind her 
daughter, calling her name as she did so. Lissa sat up and closed her 
legs, and carefully avoided looking in the direction of her impromptu 
observer. The two of them pretended it was time to go and quickly 
departed the area, and once walking away from the food court Denise 
told her daughter exactly what had happened. Worried that her daughter 
would be embarrassed or upset that it hadn't been the intended target 
but a much older man, instead Denise found Lissa seemed quite turned on 
by the prospect. "Do you think he got excited?" she asked. "I'm sure he 
did," reassured her mom.

Lissa's letter, while more casual and less detailed, also gave an 
excellent summary of what Denise did. She elected to do both flashes in 
a shoe store. Lissa pretended to be inspecting shoes in another part of 
the store, but with a good view of the goings on. First she flashed 
another customer by letting her coat hang open on her clearly visible 
nipples and areolae under her thin silk blouse. Then she got really 
into trying on shoes, and once she had a shoe-store clerk "in position" 
she let her legs fall open strategically. Lissa said it was really 
funny to see the expression on the young man's face as he gaped at her 
mom's "neatly trimmed pussy and smooth lips only a few feet away, as he 
tried to get the boot on her foot." They left the store without making 
a purchase.

So that was it. I sent back an email praising their detailed 
descriptions and bravery, and gave the following task for Sunday. They 
were, first of all, to spend the morning getting "good and ready," as I 
put it. They each had to spend an hour masturbating in the privacy of 
their rooms, very careful not to cum - so they could spread the time 
out if they needed to. Then, their main task was quite simple. They 
were each allowed one orgasm. But with the following restrictions: it 
had to be somewhere outside of the house, and it had to be "with the 
other of you, and one stranger, in the same room or within 10 yards or 
so." I added, "use your ingenuity - the stranger doesn't have to know 
you're cumming, but make sure the other of you knows it so she can 
describe it for me." 

When I checked my email on Sunday morning, I saw a reply, and wondered 
if maybe they'd chickened out and wanted to negotiate. I always 
reminded myself that I granted them that option, and in some ways I 
expected that eventually I'd push things too far. But it was only a 
short note, from Lissa, where she said, "Wow, this is going to be wild 
- mom's got a plan, we'll tell you about it when we get home." 

Chapter 5. More Togetherness.

So later, in the evening, I logged on to check my email and saw nothing, 
but seeing Denise's yahoo screen name was online, I logged on myself. 
Before I could even send an IM, I got a message, "Hey Finn, this is 
Lissa." She explained that her mom was doing some chores, that they had 
just gotten back and Lissa had sat down to write up their experiences. 
"But now I can just tell you direct," she typed out, excitedly.

After their morning of preparation, they had gone to a movie. "Mom's 
idea - it was perfect," she continued. This was where Lissa was to do 
her task - Denise would do hers later. The didn't sit together, but "a 
few seats apart". Two teenage guys positioned themselves only one seat 
removed on Lissa's other side. They looked like "total dorks" as Lissa 
put it, but she was committed. 

So once the movie started, she slipped her hand into her loose fitting 
waistband and began to "do it." It was only a matter of minutes before 
she felt the build up, she said, and explained it was because of the 
long preparation, probably. They'd agreed on a "signal" that Lissa 
could give when she started cumming, so her mom would know it was 
happening and could look over ... Lissa was to make a slurping noise 
with her soda, as if by accident.

"The problem," she added, however, "was that with those two guys like 
right beside me they might look over at the noise too." But she 
explained she found herself more turned on than she expected by the 
idea the boys would realize what was going on, so she did it anyway. 
She held her soda straw to her lips as her hand worked below, and as 
the moment arrived she slurped, louder than intended, shut her eyes and 
kind of leaned over.

"I'm normally pretty quiet anyway, so I didn't like moan or grunt or 
anything, but I totally saw stars and lost track of where I was." 
Denise told her after that when she had looked over at the sound of the 
slurp, her eyes actually met those of the boy on Lissa's other side and 
saw him looking quite intently at Lissa. She told her daughter that she 
doubted he knew she was cumming, as it wasn't too obvious or anything, 
but he probably concluded she was acting kind of strange. "The worst 
part," Lissa concluded, "was that I think I made like a big wet spot on 
the butt of my sweatpants, but fortunately I had a pretty long coat I 
could wear over it on my way out of the theater."

She went on to describe her mom's public orgasm. Denise had wanted to 
be a little more daring. So, after the movie, the two of them went out 
for an early dinner at a nearby pizza joint that they both liked. They 
sat in a booth, and there were people on both sides of them and also at 
a booth facing them. Once they'd gotten their food and were eating, 
Denise began to do herself while Lissa watched.

"I was totally fascinated," she said. “I knew my mom was bringing 
herself off right across from me, while all these people were around, 
couples, families with kids, tons of people." Right as her mom was 
cumming, Lissa told how she heard her make a few "grunting noises, very 
sexy." Lissa said she decided at that moment to be "a little bit mean," 
and she flagged the passing bus-boy, making him stop at their table. 
Her mom's face was scrunched up in ecstasy, and Lissa said, "can you 
get us some more water please?" The bus-boy looked a little oddly at 
Denise and ran off to get a pitcher. By the time he got back, Denise 
was mostly recovered, and glaring at her daughter, but good naturedly.

"That's pretty incredible," I sent back as Lissa finished her story.

"Mom just got here, you want to chat to her for a sec?"

"Sure," I said. I said hi to Denise and said her daughter had given a 
very good account of their day's activities.

"She certainly is enjoying herself," Denise wrote back. "And so am I." 
She also said she and Lissa had agreed that from now on they would both 
do new tasks each day, so did I have something for them for tomorrow?

I hadn't developed a really good idea for the next several days - I'd 
been putting too much thought into what I would have them doing over 
Thanksgiving, instead. But I knew I wanted them "charged up," so I 
already knew wasn't going to let them cum again until at some point 
when I was actually there. Finally, I said their task for tomorrow was 
to "masturbate as much as possible," and explained that they each had 
to touch themselves for at least 5 minutes "for every waking hour of 
the day." 

They didn't have to be obvious about it - they could use the restroom, 
cover themselves with a coat, whatever worked, and I told them they 
could dress comfortably. "The point is to try to keep yourselves on the 
edge," I urged, and added that there was no cumming allowed, of course. 

"We've both gotten pretty good at holding off," Denise sent back, and, 
with a smiley, added, "Lissa says it's lots of fun and says thank you."

"Something to be thankful for, for thanksgiving," I joked, and got 
another smiley. "But I really should be thanking you two, for being so 
much fun," I concluded.

We signed off with me feeling a growing emotional attachment to these 
two horny internet beings, who just happened to be my sister and niece 
in real life - or, at the minimum, my sister living out a very 
elaborate fantasy.

That night I got home from work late, being busy with wrapping things 
up so I could take Wednesday and Monday off for the holiday and the 
trip out to my sister's. There was an email waiting for me and I read 
it eagerly. "What a roller-coaster day," Denise described. They both 
had done as I requested. Lissa had had a little incident, where she had 
daringly decided during "boring 4th period math" to do little 
stimulation under the cover of her coat, and she thinks someone figured 
out what she was doing - "an obnoxious cheerleader bitch that sits 
behind me said 'is it good for you?' and I swear she knew what I was 
doing and that kind of scared me," Lissa wrote, as part of a little 
description following her mom's note. But they both stuck to it, and 
were waiting excitedly to know what they would be doing tomorrow and 
"both of us are horny as hell." 

I had been planning the following one for a while, and decided this was 
a good time for it - it was a little different. I said that except for 
their optional 10-minute "morning visit" they would be "cold turkey" 
today ("In anticipation of the Thanksgiving leftovers," I joked). But 
that in the evening they each had a special task. They were to spend 
some time online at alt.sex.stories and they each had to find a story 
that they really liked.

"The story should have at least one 'shocking' element to it - 
something you would be embarrassed to admit turns you on," I explained. 
I asked each of them to cut and paste the story into an email and send 
it to me, and provide a "short commentary" about what part she found 
most exciting, etc. I also added as an extra note that tomorrow evening, 
because of my own travel plans, I'd be giving them their "holiday 
tasks" ahead of time and to let me know how many they wanted for the 5 
day period.

There were two emails for me when I got home Tuesday night, in usual 
patter, both from Denise's email address, but with one from her and one 
from Lissa. Each contained a delightful story pasted from the 
alt.sex.stories archive. Lissa complained in her commentary, "what is 
this, freaking English class?" but she gamely complied with the task 
and confessed that it was "really fun surfing all those nasty stories 
although a lot of them were really gross and scary." 

The story Lissa had selected was a story about a "horny boy about my 
age," on Halloween night, going around to do "tricks" on houses that 
didn't give candy. He ended up witnessing at woman masturbating herself 
through a window. The story suggests she knows she's being watched, as 
she strips and makes herself cum while the guy outside her window ends 
up shooting onto the glass. Lissa's comment was that what she found 
most exciting was the idea that she was doing it on purpose, teasing 
the guy and making him jerk off outside her window. "I kept imagining I 
was the girl doing it," she wrote. "I guess that's an embarrassing 
fantasy - to want to be watched doing that, by a stranger."

Denise played a bit of a trick on me. She chose the story that I'd 
written - the one about the two sets of siblings playing truth or dare. 
I actually had wondered if she or Lissa might try that. She wrote at 
the bottom a stunning confession. She said that she read the story 
imagining her own brother and herself as one of the sets of siblings! 
Of course, this was her embarrassing fantasy, she explained. She 
particularly liked the ending: the girl, on a dare, is kneeling in 
front of her brother as he masturbates himself - they're both naked. He 
becomes too excited to resist, and even though it wasn't supposed to be 
part of the dare, he ejaculates and covers her face and upper body with 
spurts of cum, much to her stunned surprise - since up until this event 
she'd never even seen a naked dick before much less seen one cum like 
that. Denise adds, "Lissa is particularly fascinated with this scene, 
too." 

Her other confession is more subdued, but I find it deeply gratifying. 
She admits that she developed some sexual fantasies about her brother 
when they were both teenagers. "I was extremely conscious of how often 
he would be in a state of sexual excitement, around the house."

She'd noticed! I exulted to myself.

"I would sometimes stare at the erection in his shorts for long moments 
when I knew he wasn't looking." Obviously, she'd done well at 
concealing her interest – since although I recalled many times being 
around her with an erection, I could recall not a single moment when 
she had seemed to notice this.

So. And tomorrow, I'd be seeing them both.

Finally, Denise concluded with the observation that her brother would 
be visiting for 5 days - Wednesday night through Monday morning, 
basically. That I should "give us whatever tasks you think best - we 
trust you." She didn't explicitly say how many tasks they expected, so 
I decided to stick with the pattern of one per day for each of them.

I wrote back a fairly detailed letter, with the tasks. For Wednesday, 
they were to do a repeat of what they'd done Monday - try to maximize 
their horniness and masturbate at lease 5 minutes of each hour for the 
whole day. But no cumming.

Then I outlined some "general rules" for the four-day weekend. 1) no 
panties or bra at any point, unless a particular task gives permission 
to wear them. 2) As usual, no masturbation unless "authorized" by a 
task, including, now, no "morning visits." 3) bonus activity: if you're 
"desperate and daring," there is one way you may masturbate at any 
time: if "someone else" is in the room and within 10 feet of you (the 
"someone else" not being the other of you, obviously) - it's up to you 
to work out how to do this. But even in this context, no cumming.

Then I provided a daily task for each of the four days. Throughout, I 
avoided mentioning Denise's "brother" specifically as a "target" for 
these tasks... let them reach their own decisions there - but they were 
clearly intended to be done in company and for the most part could be 
done at home.

For Thursday, I wrote, "since there will be a lot of focus on food, 
here is your task. Each of you must contrive by some means to get 
someone (other than each other) to eat or drink something that has been 
in direct contact with your pussies." As an example, I suggested they 
could sneak a slice of turkey off the platter, run along their slits, 
and replace it. Once they see that person eating or drinking the item, 
they must make some inquiry as to how the person likes what they're 
eating. "Make sure some of your personal fluid is on the item," I 
concluded. I imagined Lissa reacting with an "ew gross" to this one, 
but I really couldn't resist.

For Friday, acquiescing to the inevitability of shopping, I gave the 
following: at some point, while out in public, one of you must contrive 
to fondle the groin area of "someone you know - not a stranger." I 
suggested they make it seem like an accident - a trip and fall, or an 
inattentive grab... something like that. Then the other of you (you can 
work out between you who wants to do which task) must contrive to get 
this same person to touch your breast or pussy, with a maximum of ONE 
layer of cloth between hand and target. Likewise, obviously she would 
want to make this seem accidental.

For Friday, as a bonus, I told them that they could masturbate as much 
as they wanted during the shopping trip (no cumming, of course) in 
restrooms or dressing rooms.

For Saturday, I again presented them with two different tasks, and 
allowed them to choose who would do which one. For the one task, I 
wrote, "Since there will be guests at home, contrive to be caught naked 
somehow." I suggested: getting into or coming out of the shower; 
changing in the bedroom with door "accidentally" left open; etc. For 
the other task, I said that the other of them had to print out a 
description of herself masturbating in detail ("I know you've written 
plenty, as I've read several," I commented) from the computer, and 
leave it somewhere where "someone" might find it and read it. "Let that 
person be mystified as to why such a text exists," I concluded, vaguely.

For Sunday, I gave them the following: you are allowed to cum today - 
but only with someone else in the room (and within 10 feet). You may 
cum as often as you want. The main restriction - the both of you must 
try as closely as possible to be simultaneous.

I then also suggested a "bonus" option I described as "only if you're 
feeling really daring." They were to try to get "someone" (we all know 
who) involved in a game of truth or dare "for real." They were allowed 
to be wearing underwear at the beginning of the game (to ensure no one 
gets "suspicious," I suggested). During the game, restrictions on 
behavior (including masturbation, cumming, etc.) were eliminated. 
"Don't let the person figure out that you planned it in advance," I 
cautioned, but added, "have lots of fun with it."

Finally, for Monday their only task was to make sure they had a good 
"write up" of the weekend's experiences and sent them to me. I said I'd 
try to be online at some point over the weekend (maybe on Saturday, I 
suggested - I imagined myself getting out of the house on my own, 
sometime during the day, to "run errands or do Christmas shopping or 
something," and going online at a wifi hotspot somewhere).

Lastly, to salve my guilty conscience, I said, "Whatever happens, don't 
feel obligated to do anything you're not comfortable with. I won't be 
bothered if you write back on Monday and say 'we chickened out' or 
whatever. Just please have fun." 

With that, I sent the email and went to bed. When I signed on in the 
morning before leaving for work, I found a short response. Denise wrote 
simply, "Have a great Thanksgiving - I know I will!" and Lissa added a 
note saying, "Finn, your [sic] so cool THANKS."

I left from work a little early and went directly for the airport. The 
flight was 5 hours (including the built in minimum 1 hour delay 
airlines seem to shoot for during peak holiday travel times), and I got 
in around 9 pm. I picked up my rental car (I always rented a car when 
visiting my sister, both to retain my own mobility and so as not to 
inconvenience her with fetching me at the airport, as she lived over an 
hour away from it), and got to their house at about 11. It had been 
about 14 months since I'd seen her and Lissa, when I'd flown out for 
David's funeral. 

Chapter 6. Thanksgiving Morning.

I rang the door bell and I heard Lissa excitedly call to her mom "It's 
uncle Jason." She opened the door, and I beheld my gorgeous, exotic, 
spritelike 14 year old niece. She leaped out and hugged me, and 
although it was cozy, it was tentative and completely chaste. Then my 
sister came out and gave me a warmer hug, and I knew right then that at 
least she hadn't been making everything up, as I could plainly see the 
shape of the cones and peaks of her nipples through her lovely emerald 
blouse. Though the cloth was dark enough and thick enough to conceal 
the coloration, it was still evident she wasn't wearing a bra. She had 
her hair in an unexpected "corn-rows" style I'd never seen on her 
before, and she looked very sexy and exotic. 

For the first time it occurred to me that I was, in a way, setting 
myself up for a profoundly frustrating weekend, if these two women 
carried through with even half of what I'd outlined for them. For that 
matter, it occurred to me that they could do absolutely nothing, and 
solely driven by my own imagination, I was going to be spending an 
amazingly stimulating Thanksgiving, as I searched for any minutiae of 
evidence that would suggest that the strange fantasy that had developed 
over the last several months had any elements of truth to it. Such as 
my sister's bralessness I was noticing upon the moments of my entrance. 
And was that a musk of female horniness I smelled in the air? Or rather, 
just something cooking or having been cooked in the kitchen?

We chatted for a while, and I told Denise how well they both seemed to 
be doing. She said, nonchalantly, "I've been in a really good state of 
mind the last month or two... can't really say why." Let him read that 
as innocently as he wants, I imagined her thinking. 

Both she and I had inherited a strong tendency to "double-entendre" 
humor and irony from our parents (clearly an argument in favor of 
nurture of nature, given her status as an adoptee). Not to mention a 
preference for sarcasm. But we'd always been a bit shy about deploying 
such double-entendre directly at one another - it was more something 
that would come out with our respective spouses, for example, but in 
each other's presence.

As mother and daughter sat next to one another on the couch, I observed 
to them that they indeed seemed very happy. Lissa piped in, "Me and mom 
are getting along really well, too - no fights for like a couple weeks 
now." We all laughed. 

Finally, we wound down the "haven't seen you in so long" small talk, 
and comments on work, work, school (respectively), and I said I was 
exhausted from the flight (which was true) and should be heading for 
bed. They agreed it had been a long day, and without further incident I 
was ensconced in the guest room (actually the small den off the living 
room), and, despite how horny the whole situation had me, in the spirit 
of solidarity I felt with the two of them and what I was asking of them, 
I only edged myself very briefly before allowing myself to drift off to 
sleep.

I woke in the morning with a raging erection. Now, that's not unusual, 
as anyone who is a male (or knows one) can attest. But the 
circumstances meant that I was a) more conscious of it than usual, b) I 
would have to traverse their living room to get to the hall bathroom 
for my morning shower, while c) they were both evidently already awake 
- I could hear voices outside, probably from the kitchen or dining area. 
Normally, I'm an early riser, but, without the obligation of an alarm 
clock, I discovered I'd slept almost to 8 am.

Well, I stretched and yawned, it was a holiday. I dug out my kimono, 
and, daringly, removed my other clothing before slipping it on. With 
hands in pockets, it wasn't too obvious, I decided.

Grabbing my bathroom kit, I opened the door to the guest room and saw 
them both. Lissa was at the table, reading the comics page from the 
newspaper. Denise was in the kitchen (the whole kitchen / dining room / 
living room were open to one another), doing something with a casserole 
pan on the kitchen island. "Good morning, little brother of mine," she 
said with a chipper, almost flirtatious voice I hadn't heard from my 
sister in years. She was clearly in an extremely good mood. "Good 
morning," I said. "Hi uncle Jason," said Lissa somewhat distractedly, 
not looking up from her comics.

Denise offered me coffee, and I said I'd get some as soon as I got out 
of the shower. And as I walked past I realized that both were still in 
their sleepwear: Denise had on a matching set of silken, olive green 
real old-fashioned pajamas, while Lissa was in one of those long t-
shirts so common with girls as sleepwear. I wondered if both of them 
were truly pantiless and braless beneath, but decided to defer closer 
inspection, partly because my already raging woody was getting more 
aggressive under the kimono. 

Holding the bathroom kit strategically to conceal the situation, I went 
into the bathroom. I took a very relaxing shower and, rather than 
stroking myself, I tried to will myself to a more quiescent state, and 
cursed at my not having brought in a pair of jockeys to put on after I 
was showered.

Finally, after an extra few minutes thinking hard about some mysterious 
database error messages from work, I felt under control enough to come 
back out. I was feeling a kind of weird, nervous, erotic arousal I 
hadn't experienced since adolescence. 

I came back out and Lissa was missing from her seat at the table, but 
Denise was there, and she patted a chair at the table and invited me to 
have some coffee. "You remember where the cups are, right?" she said, 
as I strolled into the kitchen. 

I got my coffee and added some cream from the fridge. With the cup, all 
steaming hot, I sat cattycorner to my sister at the table and took in 
her sheepish grin. "You're really doing well," I commented. 

She just nodded, and suddenly we were in a very serious conversation 
about David's suicide, the hard months after, her own depression. I 
completely forgot the games for a little while, and was relating to my 
sister in the way we always had, emotionally close and devoid of sexual 
baggage of any kind. I felt some relief that the dynamic wasn't lost 
between us, and felt a huge pang of guilt over the deception I was 
engaged in. 

"But I'm really doing much, much better the last few months," she 
concluded. 

"I can see," I smiled, and patted her arm.

At that moment, Lissa emerged from her room, now wrapped in a large 
bath towel. Not part of a task I'd given them... but who's to rule out 
improvisation? Or, in the event it's all fantasy, who's to rule out 
coincidence, for that matter? 

She actually strolled over and stood at the corner of the table between 
her mother and me. "I'm going to take a shower now," she announced, a 
little superfluously. 

The white, fluffy towel was wrapped, modestly enough, at her breast 
line, and hung to what I judged to be 5 inches below her crotch. 
Nothing was uncovered that shouldn't be, but it'd been a very long time 
since I'd been so close to a nubile teenager who was so close to 
nakedness. Just under there, I thought to myself. And was that a 
muskiness I smelled? If things were as the emails had said... she'd 
been masturbating on and off all day yesterday, and she hadn't showered 
last night that I was aware. 

"Go ahead, dear," said Denise.

"Are you done in there, uncle Jason?" she asked me, turning my 
direction. I nodded, trying not to stare at the way the towel squished 
her tiny breasts into two quarter-spheres above its bunched up edge, 
and the long, never motionless, crinkly black hair that flowed freely 
around her cheeks and shoulders and down her back.

So Lissa ran off to the bathroom. Denise grinned at me, "she's growing 
up, isn't she?" 

I raised my eyebrows, inviting her to elaborate, pretending ignorance. 

"It's ok, Jason... you're male, of course you'll notice such things." 

I smiled sheepishly, and cleared my throat. "Sorry, was I staring so 
obviously?" 

"Not too obvious. Don't worry about it. Do you want me to make more 
coffee?" she changed the subject. As she stood to go to kitchen, I 
studied her pajamas carefully, trying to see if she was pantiless. 
Braless, obviously... the pooky outlines of her cones and nipples were 
there to be seen as they bounced under the silky button-down top. 

"While it brews, I'll go get dressed," I finally offered, and ran into 
my sanctuary, the den, for a few minutes to get dressed and still my 
beating heart (and beating you-know-what but not beating ON it... not 
too much, anyway). 

When I came out, fully dressed now, Lissa was still in the shower. I 
got a fresh cup of coffee and sat back down at the table. Denise had 
disappeared into her room - she had her own bathroom there, I recalled. 
As I browsed the newspaper Lissa finally emerged from the bathroom, 
wrapped in the towel much as before, but now with her hair ensconced in 
turban-like arrangement over her head. 

She saw me sitting at the table by myself and came over and sat down 
across from me. I realized that given the length of the towel, it was 
only the presence of the table that prevented me from gazing between 
her legs - but prevent it, it surely did. Oh well, I grinned to myself. 

Lissa to all appearances intended to hang out with me at the table 
wrapped in her towel. She toyed with a few sections of the paper and 
finally appeared immersed in something from the food section (always a 
huge section in a Thanksgiving day newspaper). Her turbaned head bent 
over her reading, a few wisps of her kinky (not THAT way) hair slipping 
out the edges around her ears, she held one hand down on her reading, 
and leaned a little forward. 

Suddenly I became aware that her other arm was DOWN... out of sight... 
in her lap, perhaps. Of course I recalled a particularly relevant 
"general rule" I'd given earlier - they could masturbate if someone 
else was in the room and within 10 feet. Dare I imagine she was...? I 
realized I was holding my breath as I studied her, and quickly I sipped 
some coffee, to look busy, and looked back down at my own paper, but 
soon enough I was compelled to begin studying her again. 

She seemed so relaxed, calm, and absorbed in her reading. Lovely. But 
not completely still, I noted. No... little twitches, movements. 
Consistent with... yes. My god, what was it I'd engineered, here? This 
situation. 

I tried to read some political commentary in the paper, but I couldn't 
concentrate. Clearly it would be "out of character" for me to 
acknowledge any possible awareness as to what was going on. I tried to 
imagine, what would I be thinking, how much would I be aware of, if I 
didn't have the background knowledge and presuppositions I had. 

Was there any chance that, being innocent to the supposed tasks I'd 
assigned, I would suspect my niece of doing what I suspected she was 
doing? Probably not, I concluded. But I also concluded that even if I 
were innocent of my suspicions, there was no way that even a 
hypothetically uninformed and well-intentioned uncle Jason could be 
unaware of the sheer sexy nubility that hovered so close, wrapped in 
her towels and to all appearances so absorbed in her reading.

With such rapidity and spontaneity that I was genuinely startled, Lissa 
looked up from her reading, caught my gaze on her, and said, all 
lightness and sweetness, "so... what are you going to do today, uncle 
Jason?" With that she engaged in a kind of stylized stretch that was 
noticeably exaggerated - hard to discount , an evident act of 
flirtation. 

I looked away, and said, "Oh probably just hang out and stuff. Do you 
have any plans?" 

"Not really," she said, cheerfully, and with gazelle-like grace she 
stood and strolled into the kitchen, the towel around her billowing 
slightly as she moved. "Time for some breakfast, I think."

I watched her as she moved about the kitchen, fetching herself a bowel, 
a spoon, a box of cereal. She pulled open the fridge and got out the 
milk container, and brought it all to the table, returning to her seat 
and pushing the newspaper aside. I reflected I really shouldn't be so 
fascinated with every move of this girl - I was going to creep her out, 
I was certain. 

With some reluctance, I got up from the table and went back into the 
guest room - but didn't shut the door this time. I had, in fact, 
brought some items with me to work on (though I was under no 
obligation) and so I pulled out my laptop and fired it up. 

About this time, I heard Denise come out from her room, and I came out 
of the den with my laptop and took a seat on one of the comfy chairs in 
the living room, where I could overlook the goings-on. Denise was 
dressed now, and Lissa was spooning cereal into her mouth distractedly 
and reading another section of the paper. 

Something twisted in made me open up the document I was working on that 
would evolve into this story (I'd already decided I absolutely must 
write the whole experience down), instead of the requirements document 
I was working on for my job. Because of where I sat in a corner of the 
room, I knew I'd have plenty of time to minimize the document if one of 
them came over. 

Denise was plonking around in the kitchen, and Lissa finished her 
breakfast and called out to me, "watcha doin?" 

"Just some work I brought with me," I commented, and, seeing her stand 
up from the table and lean on the half-wall room divider into the 
living room, I minimized the document "just in case." 

"That's boring," she commented, exaggeratedly. "Hey, mom, can I get on 
the computer?" she called out. 

Denise looked around from where she was in the kitchen, wiping her 
hands on a towel, and saw her daughter standing there in her towel and 
turban. "Since the computer's in the den, honey," she reminded, "you'd 
better check with your uncle Jason." 

Lissa looked back around toward me, and said, simply, "is it ok?" 

"Not a problem with me," I shrugged, and grinned. "I've got my own," 
pointed out unnecessarily. 

"So it's ok for me to go online?" Lissa double-checked she had her 
mom's approval.

"No problem, hun," Denise said. "You might want to get dressed, 
though," she added, in that special tone reserved for a mother's 
addressing her teenage daughter. Lissa looked down at herself, and, 
appearing genuinely amazed that she was still in a towel, without a 
word, leaped across to the hall and down to her room, disappearing. 

She's going to be going online, I thought. Wish I could go online, too, 
I thought. And suddenly, I had an inspiration. These days, lots of 
people have wifi. And many people are either too naive or too 
technically limited to set up secured connections - more than once on a 
business trip I'd freeloaded on some nearby business or private 
unsecured wifi network. 

I pulled up the wifi connection utility on my laptop. Sure enough... 
there was a "very low" signal strength from a hub called "linksys" - 
some neighbor of my sister's had a totally basic, unsecured, default-
setting wifi network running. I connected to it, and brought up firefox. 
Sure enough! I felt very devious indeed, at that moment.

Lissa re-emerged from her bedroom, dressed now in an adorable little 
yellow sun dress, still barefoot, her hair damp but rumpled from a 
hasty toweling. I definitely could see her nipples through the cloth of 
the dress - much smaller than her moms, and perched on unambitious 
little globes, but the bralessness was undeniable. 

She strolled past me without a glance and disappeared into the den 
(actually I guess it was their home office, with the computer and all 
that in there), leaving the door open. I heard her fire up the computer, 
then the familiar "Bill Gates's love song" as I called it, a few other 
beeps and whirrs. 

Quickly, I logged on to yahoo under the username I'd been using with 
them, and, sure enough, within minutes Denise's username appeared. 
Seconds after that, a message popped up on my screen (I almost always 
have my sound muted on my machine, so there was no tell-tale beep from 
the messenger software on my end). 

"Finn! Happy Thanksgiving!" came the instant message. It was all real. 
I had no more doubts.

Chapter 7. A Thanksgiving Dinner.

"Well, hello" I typed back. "Happy turkey day to you, too!" 

"I thought u said u were going to be offline over the weekend" Lissa 
sent.

"I snuck away to a Starbucks and I'm on wifi," I half-lied. "How are 
things going?" 

"Fine, fine. Awesome, actually. This is Lissa btw" she typed. 

I was hearing the telltale beeps as my responses popped up on her 
screen in the other room, fairly low volume, but audible. So weird.... 

Everything that had been happening, it was all confirmed, I realized. 
All real. There could be no doubts that both my sister and my niece 
were involved in this ongoing tasks game we were playing. Although 
there was still a possibility they'd "faked" one or more of the tasks 
they'd had, that they were both at least involved in the dialogue was 
incontrovertible at this point. It hardly mattered whether they'd 
actually done each and every thing exactly as they'd said. I felt both 
exhilarated and morbidly self-conscious at this sudden awareness.

"So what are you up to today?" I asked.

"Not much... " a pause. "We did the masturbation yesterday. We even did 
it together for a while."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yep me and mom were so horny last night we were on the couch talking 
about this weekend and the tasks you sent and we both just started 
doing it. it was soo hot."

"Wow," I said. "You didn't cum I hope."

"LOL no sir. were following the rules I promise," she typed. "I'm so 
horny this morning!"

"Sounds like fun," I said, not wanting to be the one to first mention 
their houseguest - I wanted to see what she would say.

There were a few minutes of pause, so I sent "Whatcha doing?"

"Just, um... finding the masturbation description I might use for the 
Saturday task."

"OK. might?" 

"mom and me haven't decide who does which task yet," she explained.

"I see."

"So have to tell you what I did this morning," she wrote after another 
minute or so.

"What's that? I asked.

"Well, you know my uncle Jason is visiting, right? so and you said we 
could masturbate if we were really desperate as long as someone was 
within 10 feet. bonus activity, u called it"

"Yep," I prompted.

"LOL so I was desperate."

"I know how that is," I encouraged. "What did you do?"

"When I came out of the shower I saw uncle Jason sitting at the table. 
So I went over and sat across from him so he couldn't see my lap and I 
pretend to read the paper and I u-know-what"

"Awesome," I remarked. "You think he noticed?"

"Well he noticed I was in just a towel from the shower and I'm sure he 
was checking me out, but I don't think he knew what I was doing with my 
fingers under the table," she explained.

"You think he was checking you out?" 

"Oh definitely :p" She'd included the "tongue out" smiley, teasingly.

"How does that make you feel?" I asked, daringly.

"freakin horny" she exclaimed immediately. 

"I'm glad you're having fun," I sent back, inanely.

"Oh definitely."

I couldn't take too much more of this... and I still felt compelled to 
keep stretching things out, prevent them from moving too fast. "Hey 
I've got to get going," I sent to her.

"Ok," she responded, but immediately followed, saying, "before u go can 
u give me a bonus task?"

"A bonus task?" I asked.

"Yah I'm bored and we have all day till dinner. Plus I'm horny too."

"Ok let me think a sec..." and think I did, furiously. I thought back 
to a story I'd read a while back, and it gave me an idea. "Ok, here's 
your task," I finally sent. "Within the next 2 hours, you have to get 
your uncle to say the words 'penis' and 'orgasm' to you. I don't care 
how you do it."

"OMG that's a twisted task." 

"You think you can do it?" I asked.

"Not sure. :) but I can try LOL" she finally wrote back.

"Good luck. See you later," I sent. And logged off before getting a 
reply.

Lissa stayed in the den on the computer for another 10 minutes after 
that, while I plonked around on my work document, somewhat 
unproductively. Shortly, Lissa emerged and went into the kitchen to 
talk to her mom. I heard some very low whispered conversation, heard 
Denise say loud enough that I could hear, "... Oh my... " and back to 
whispers again.

Finally Lissa emerged and went to her room. Denise, meanwhile, peeked 
around the wall from the kitchen and asked if I could help her with 
something. I locked the screen on my laptop and set it aside, and went 
to help my sister in the kitchen.

Denise was in a sweatshirt and jeans, very comfortable looking but not 
terribly revealing. I helped her prepare the turkey for the oven, 
getting the stuffing in and all that. We chatted about this and that, 
very low key and casual, a perfect antidote for the tension that had 
been building earlier.

Finally, she let me go. "I'm done with you," she said, "you can go back 
to your computer stuff." 

Nearly an hour had passed, and still Lissa was in her room. I went and 
sat in the living room, but left my laptop alone and read a magazine 
for a while - when I fetched it from the den I noticed the screen saver 
running on their computer, but left it alone.

15 minutes after that, Denise came out and announced she had to run to 
the corner store. "On Thanksgiving day?" I asked. "I'll go," I 
volunteered.

"No, no... you stay here and relax, I just have to get some more butter 
and milk. It's always the basics you don't plan for..." 

So she left, and it occurred to me that she was getting out of the 
house on purpose, to facilitate some plan Lissa had. I waited, curious 
to see what would happen.

Finally, with only about 30 minutes left on the time limit I'd given 
her, Lissa emerged from her room carrying some papers - looked like 
school papers - and one of those textbooks-in-a-paper-cover they issue 
you in high school, highly decorated with doodles and no indication as 
to what subject it was. She plopped down on the couch and began going 
through them, as if she was studying. 

"Doing homework on Thanksgiving?" I asked. "That's pretty dedicated."

She shrugged and looked up. "Whatever. I'm bored and it's gotta be 
done." Long silence, me reading the magazine, her going through her 
papers... doing some memorizing, looks like.

Then, "Hey, um, uncle Jason?" 

"Yes?"

"Can I ask, like, a really big favor?"

"What's that?"

"It's kind of embarrassing," she said. Ah... here it comes, I thought.

"I promise I'll be nice," I encouraged her.

She grinned, shyly, and started to explain, in a rapid voice. "We're in, 
uh, sex-ed this semester for health class. And we have these vocabulary 
tests. Stupid Mr Anderson says there might be a 'pop quiz' on Monday 
and you know he will, too. So I'm trying to memorize the definitions 
for these words and I was wondering could you test me?"

Very, very clever, I congratulated her, silently. She was a smart kid, 
no denying that. I could already see how she intended to solve the task. 

"Uh sure," I replied out loud, trying to convey the level of discomfort 
that seemed appropriate to the non-perverted-uncle role I was 
attempting to play, with only moderate success. 

Lissa energetically leapt up from the couch and brought me her list, 
handed it to me. A set of words and definitions, written in her careful 
cursive. Such excellent improvisation, I thought, but said, "You might 
be less embarrassed to go over these with you mom," I suggested, which 
was roughly in character, and attempting to appear embarrassed, myself 
(which actually, despite everything, I was, at least a little). 

"Oh no," she protested. "That would be MORE embarrassing." 

"Oh, I see. Well... um, ok. What do you want me to do." 

"Just read off the word, and I have to give you the definition," she 
explained, perkily, sitting back down on the couch in her little 
sundress, facing me.

I won't go into the gory details. There were about 12 vocabulary words 
on the list, the definitions were completely plausible 8th grade sex-ed 
type definitions. I almost wondered if, coincidentally, she really did 
have sex-ed and had dug these out of her actual homework.

But no... I remembered she had a set of encyclopedias in her room. I 
suspected she'd copied the definitions from there. The words included, 
obviously, "penis" and "orgasm," and it was charming to hear her recite 
the definitions of these words so effortlessly. She stumbled on a few 
of the others, and actually made me read her the definitions and coach 
her on them - including "semen" and "clitoris." Utterly delightful.

Finally, she said "I think I've got them all," and came and collected 
her list from me, and I almost thought she was going to lean over an 
kiss me. But instead, she returned to the couch, and pulled out some 
other papers to work on. "Thanks a zillion, uncle Jason." And she 
smiled shyly at me.

And, with perfect timing, Denise returned from the store. I resumed 
reading my magazine, trying hard not to stare at my precociously clever 
niece and exotically beautiful sister as she unpacked her groceries and 
resumed her kitchen tinkering. 

Another 15 minutes or so, and Lissa got up and called out to her mom 
"I'm going back on the computer, ok mom?" To which Denise agreed from 
the kitchen. 

Wanting to avoid the appearance of too many coincidences, I resisted 
the urge to go online myself, and so went into the kitchen to offer 
help to Denise. She was just finishing up something involving pie, 
however. We made some small talk, and made our way back to the table 
and sat down. 

We'd decided to just snack rather than have lunch, with the 
Thanksgiving dinner looming ahead of us, so she'd set out some munchies, 
including chips, dip, some carrot sticks and celery, etc. We chatted as 
we worked on the munchies, when, unexpectedly she said, "hey, is that a 
good carrot?" out of the blue as I chomped down on the item in question. 

Of course, I realized what had happened. This was her task - she was 
getting it out of the way early. And as I chewed the carrot with its 
ranch dip I tried to discern the flavor I knew had to be there... but 
was unable to. She was grinning at me as we went on chatting and 
munching. 

God this was fun. It wasn't the first time that I wondered, if she knew 
it was me... would she still want to play along? 

Some of her revelations of the past week made me suspect she might, but 
I worried that if I revealed my identity to her now, she'd be angry 
about the deception. I didn't dare risk it.

Lissa came out from the den and joined in the munching and chatting, 
and, with time to kill, Denise asked if anyone wanted to play a game. 
"What sort of game?" Lissa asked. They asked me, and I was indecisive, 
but suggested cards, or monopoly, or scrabble. 

We finally settled on scrabble, an old family favorite, but at first 
Lissa didn't seem so into it, although Denise and I were enjoying 
ourselves. 

Then, suddenly, as Lissa was puzzling over what word to put down, she 
uttered a sort of gasp and said "oh my god." Teenagers have a way of 
giving any small comment a tone of apocalyptic pronouncement.

"What is it?" asked Denise, alarmed. 

"Uh, nothing... but, I was wondering..."

"Yes?" I asked, encouragingly. 

"Can we put dirty words?" She blurted out.

Denise laughed, raised an eyebrow. "Jason?"

"I don't see why not. Just us chickens, here," I commented.

"Ok, what's your word?" Denise asked her daughter.

With only a little bit of nervousness, she put a 'c' 'u' 'n' in front 
of a 't' already on the board, crossing a triple word square in the 
process. 

"Very good," congratulated her mother. 

Lissa giggled and said, "hehe this fun." 

What an interesting long weekend this is going to be, I thought to 
myself, not for the first time.

We played for another hour or two uneventfully, although with the 
barrier broken, Denise made 'fucked'. She then proposed we should give 
bonus double points for dirty words and Lissa and I agreed on the 
condition that it only counted moving forward and didn't include 
Denise's 'fucked.' 

After that, the effort to make dirty words was all-out, with myself 
adding another 'cunt,' Lissa adding 'shit' and 'dick' (arguably not 
that dirty a word but we gave her credit) and Denise putting out 
'cummed' which we thought marginal but decided "what the hell."

Periodically, Denise would get up to check on the turkey and soon the 
game ended and she got absorbed in kitchen stuff again, and I helped. 
The next few hours, including a delicious turkey dinner and lots of fun 
talk, were relaxing and more typical of my visits from before all this 
sex-task stuff had so radically altered our relationship.

Denise served some sparkling wine, and let her daughter have some too, 
and we chatted. Then Lissa announced that she was in charge of the 
desert, and fetched a delightful looking chocolate-mousse pie out of 
the fridge. Not traditional Thanksgiving fare, you might think, but it 
was a strong tradition in our family. 

"I hope it turned out ok, I copied mom's recipe," she explained, 
bringing it out. 

"Actually it was your grandma's recipe," I pointed out, and Denise 
smiled sagely.

"I've added a secret ingredient, based on mom's advice," explained 
Lissa. 

I had an inkling, but only said, "Ah, I see." Of course it was entirely 
logical as I began to eat my piece that Lissa asked, "so do you like 
it?" 

I nodded vigorously and said, "Oh yes, perfect. I don't really taste a 
secret ingredient, though." 

"Trust us, it's there," said Denise, mysteriously. I decided to enjoy 
the mystery.

After that, Lissa wanted to watch a movie on tv. They'd rented some 
moderately corny romantic comedy (I have an unadmitted weakness for 
such things so I only complained about it half-heartedly) and we 
watched it together and had some more desert as it was ending. It was 
only about 8 pm, however.

"We should have rented another movie," commented Lissa. 

Denise and I agreed, but they hadn't, so we fished around for something 
good on basic cable for a while, before Lissa gave up and asked her mom 
if she could go back on the computer. Her mom assented, cheerfully, and 
that left my sister and me together watching really bad television, on 
the couch. Then two things happened. First, suddenly she jumped up, and, 
complaining she'd eaten too much, announced she was going to change 
into something more comfy. 

Then, when she came back in, now back in her pajamas, she pulled a 
fluffy blanket over herself, saying she was cold. As we watched the tv 
quietly, I watched her, at the other end of the couch, from the corner 
of my eye. Was it possible she was pursuing bonus activity? Even as I 
wondered this, she let out a fairly audible sigh.

"You doing alright?" I asked, the concerned brother. 

"Perfect," she grinned, snuggling more under her blanket. Indeed.

After another hour, Lissa came out from the den. "Anything good on?" 
she asked. 

"Nope," Denise and I answered in perfect unison. Lissa laughed, 
stretched overdramatically, and said, "Well, with all that shopping 
we're gonna do tomorrow, I'm going to bed."

We said goodnight, and shortly after that, Denise, looking anything but 
sleepy - she looked alert and distracted, and I suspected I knew why - 
announced she was exhausted and going to bed, too.

"Goodnight, little bro," she said, jokingly. 

"Goodnight, sis," I returned, and with that, she threw off her blanket 
and quickly left the room. 

I shut off the tv and the lights and went into my den with my laptop.

I shut my door, stripped naked - feeling horny and nasty - and sat down 
on the bed with my laptop, to see if I could get online. The neighbor's 
wifi connection was still there, and I connected but I didn't log into 
yahoo. First I checked my emails. 

There were two emails from Denise (i.e. actually Lissa), timestamped, 
as I expected, around lunchtime and around 9 pm. The first was fairly 
brief - she simply said she did the bonus task and explained in two 
sentences how she pulled it off. "It was fun and I felt very sneaky," 
she concluded.

The second was a bit longer. She provided a pretty good summary of the 
rest of the day, telling how her mom had put a carrot stick IN her 
pussy in the kitchen and how "uncle Jason" enjoyed it. I assumed she 
must have known this from something her mom told her or from what had 
been planned, as I was pretty sure she hadn't been in the kitchen at 
the relevant time. 

Then, skipping forward in time, she told about the chocolate-mousse pie 
with the secret ingredient. She explained that it was her mom's idea 
yesterday after they got the tasks, and before uncle Jason got there 
Lissa made the pie and what she had done was to take all the bitter 
baker's chocolate squares that went into the recipe and had inserted 
them into herself before melting them for the pie. She said her uncle 
Jason had seemed to like the pie very much, and even her mom who knew 
the secret ingredient said it was the "best ever." 

Skipping backward, she gave a charming account of the scrabble game 
with the dirty words. And concluded by saying, "even as I type this, 
mom is out on the couch under a blanket masturbating while uncle Jason 
is like 3 feet way. Talk to you later - Lissa."

Chapter 8. Discourses.

Wow. I closed my email program and looked down at my swollen, throbbing 
cock. I very much wanted to masturbate, but was even more committed to 
my imaginary solidarity with Denise and Lissa, as I put them through 
these tasks (even though they appeared so wrapped up in their own 
excitement and experiences it had been quite some time since either of 
them had shown any interest in my own erotic situation - as Finn, not 
as Jason, obviously - but I really suspected both they preferred it 
that way, as it kept things just impersonal enough that it made the 
whole idea of sexual tasks over the internet more, well, "do-able," to 
use a word Denise was fond of).

Finally, I set my insistent cock aside (metaphorically, anyway) and 
logged onto yahoo. I knew Denise had a laptop and a docking station in 
her bedroom, and I suspected she might be online. Sure enough, there 
she was.

"Lissa told me you might show up," she sent almost immediately.

"Waiting for me?" 

"Yep. I was hoping I'd see you. How are you?"

"Very good. I hope you're doing well, too. I got Lissa's emails."

A bit of a pause, then, "I'm almost worried she's having too much fun." 

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"She's giddy. I just worry it's not right the way she's teasing Jason. 
Both of us, teasing him, really." 

"Your brother, you mean?" 

"Yes."

"You think he minds?"

"Haha probably not. He's probably whacking off in his room right now, 
poor man."

"Well then everybody wins," I sent back, trying to reassure her, and 
loving the idea that she imagined I was here in my room masturbating, 
for some reason. "I hope you put some tissues in there for him," I 
joked.

"Oh dear... I didn't think of that. Maybe I should go offer him some?"

"If you want," I said, my heart leaping in my throat for some reason.

"Nah... he's a grown boy. He'll find something if needs it."

"Good plan," I commented, just to keep the conversation going. Thinking 
back to the clearly sincere concern she'd expressed, earlier, I added, 
"I wouldn't worry too much about Lissa. She seems like a very confident 
girl who knows her limits and desires. She'll draw the line where and 
when she needs to." I actually believed this, though I also realized it 
stank of a bit of rationalization even as I typed it and hit send.

"You're probably right. Maybe my real problem is that it disturbs me a 
bit that I find it so exciting."

I was puzzled by this comment - wasn't sure what she was referencing. 
"What do you mean?"

"I mean... I almost find Lissa's tasks and what she's doing more 
exciting than my own. Like... like I wish I'd been half as daring and 
brave and naughty when I was that age." 

"Ah, I see." I decided to make a guess, hoping it was true, and, even 
if not, to suggest it just for its sheer perversity. "You're re-living 
your own adolescence, with your brother Jason, vicariously, through the 
way your daughter's teasing him, now." 

"Oh my god, exactly!" she replied after only a short delay. "I'm really 
so glad you understand, Finn."

"Well, just remember she's a separate person, and don't push her. But 
as long as she's having fun, I see nothing wrong with the fact that it 
turns you on to see her do it." 

Long pause.

"Are you still there?" I finally asked.

"Yes..."

"Whatcha doing?"

"Wishing I could cum."

"LOL not yet, dear. Patience."

"Lissa told me about her bonus task, earlier," she said.

"Yes?" 

"Could you give me a bonus task, right now?"

"What sort of task?"

Pause. "Don't make me say it."

"I'm not going to let you cum, Denise," I finally typed. "Not tonight."

"I know I know. But I want to do something kinky."

"I see." I thought for a while. Finally, "Find an excuse to bother your 
brother where he's sleeping. Is he in a guest room?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Tell him you can't sleep, or something, and you're doing some work and 
there's something in there you need."

"That'll work," she agreed. "The room he's in is my home office... I 
can say there's some papers in the desk I need, or something."

"Good. Here's the catch... you do it naked."

"No way..." 

I let her worry for a minute. "Well, but you can wear a robe."

"That's not bad, then," she replied, relieved, I suspect.

"So, nothing but a robe."

"That's all? Easy..." I sensed she was almost disappointed.

"There's another catch."

"Oh ok," expectant.

"You have to have that new dildo of yours clamped inside of you. The 
whole time."

"Oh ... wow." A bit of a silence.

"And you have to chat with him. Sit down on his bed... at least 10 
minutes."

Finally, she sent back, "Crap. Ok. I'll do it. I asked for it LOL"

"Good girl," I sent. "Have fun." But she'd already signed out. Eager, 
indeed.

I quickly hibernated my laptop and slipped it under my bed. Then I 
debated whether I should pretend she was waking me up, but decided I 
didn't fake being woken up very well, and then, with some inspiration, 
thinking about the earlier exchange, I realized the perfect thing - she 
was going to be interrupting me as I masturbated. How obvious. I wasn't 
going to let her catch me... but I was going to have the right flush to 
my cheeks, so to speak. Easily enough done.

With that, still naked under my covers, I began to vigorously stroke 
myself. I was so far gone, that long before her knock came on my door, 
I'd had to stop and take a break for danger of filling her guest bed 
with my cum. When the knock finally came, I was genuinely startled, 
despite my anticipation of it. I counted to five and rumpled the covers 
over me, raising one knee to conceal the turgid, throbbing lump I was 
wearing, and said, "yes?"

Denise poked her head in the door, and said, of all things, "are you 
decent?"

I couldn't resist, and, in my best innuendo, said, "never decent, but 
at least I'm under the covers."

She actually giggled, and crept in. "Sorry to bother you, Jase... I 
couldn't sleep, and was doing some work. I left some account folders in 
here, and I saw your light was on under the door."

"Go ahead, sis," I said, grinning up at her.

She walked over to the desk, and leaning, pulled down one of the 
binders on the shelves that made up the upper part of the unit. She 
opened it up and studied it intently for a few seconds, flipping 
through some pages. She was convincing, if she was pretending. Of 
course, she probably did have account folders in here, and she probably 
had one in mind, so she was genuinely looking for it, as she put the 
one binder down and pulled down the next and flipped through it. "Here 
it is," she finally sighed.

Meanwhile, she was in profile at the foot of my bed. I studied it... 
looking for the telltale lump at her groin that would reveal she was 
complying with the task I'd given her. Though at this point harbored 
zero doubts that both she and Lissa were playing "for real." Again I 
felt a twinge of guilt as I acknowledged to myself that I was the only 
one being deceptive, here. What to do?

Denise snapped shut the binder she'd found, scooped it and the other 
she'd looked at into her arms, and moved to leave the room. I realized 
that the best evidence that she was complying with task lay in her gait, 
as she walked. A bit of a waddle - I laughed inwardly - almost like a 
pregnant woman's walk. Cute.

As she reached to door of the room, she turned back to me, allowing her 
facial expression to evolve to a reflective seriousness. "Hey, Jase... 
can I ask you a question?" 

"Uh sure, Denise. Shoot."

She moved back to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, near the foot, 
and turned so she was looking toward me, now looking much more serious. 
I almost thought, given how serious she was looking, that she was going 
to bust me and this whole amazing game. My heart leaped with 
nervousness.

"I'm worried about Lissa," she finally said. Whew. But this did seem 
kind of serious.

"What is it?" I asked, all seriousness myself, now. Enough seriousness 
that my throbbing tool had calmed and wilted somewhat, under the covers.

She was quiet a moment, biting her lower lip. "Well, she's doing really 
great. And... especially the last couple months, she and I have gotten 
really close. Much closer than me and mom were. And... I'm grateful for 
that."

I let her sit silently for a moment, knowing she wasn't done.

"But I know she misses David. Her dad. A lot. She's a trooper, and 
doesn't talk about it. But I know she does. Well, and I've noticed just 
in the short time you've been here, she really seems to look up to you 
a lot. You're obviously a bit of a father figure for her." 

"She's a great kid," I said, a bit innocuously. Encouraging her to go 
on, with my face - she hadn't really gotten to the serious part, yet.

"I'm a little worried, though... um," 

"What's the matter?" I asked. I honestly wasn't sure where she intended 
to go with this.

"Well... it's kind of weird to explain. There's like, something oedipal 
going on."

I almost laughed out loud, but choked it back in time, and spluttered 
out something like "I'm not sure what you mean," instead.

Denise was clearly a bit embarrassed to go on, but I was actually 
marveling at the way she'd taken the topic what had been preoccupying 
her in her conversation with "Finn" and managed to broach it with 
"Jason" with such discursive grace. Almost as if she knew he and I were 
the same, but was "playing along." No way... no way, I thought to 
myself.

She continued, "I'm sure you noticed how she spent an hour this morning, 
after her shower, hanging out in her towel." 

"Um..." I began...

"Don't even think about denying you were looking - I saw you."

"Er... shit, Denise," I began, feeling busted again.

"Oh crap, Jase... I'm not trying to make you feel bad. Guys look at 
girls... especially nubile young things high on hormones, like Lissa 
clearly is. That's not my point."

"Oh.... It's not?" I was more confused than ever.

She smiled, as if trying to reassure me. "No, what I'm worried about is 
that she was doing it on purpose." 

"She was?" I asked, a bit idiotically at this point. I had no idea what 
the script was, anymore.

"Of course. Women can tell these things, about other women. And mothers 
about daughters, especially. Lissa was totally trying to tease you."

"You think so?" another lame question.

"I KNOW so, Jase. And the whole business during the scrabble game, too. 
She's flirting with you, bro. And my question is, what should I do 
about it?"

"Um... " I said, eloquently trying to buy some time. This was not the 
conversation I'd imagined when I, as "Finn," had suggested she have a 
chat with her brother. 

Then again, the secret subtext was that both women were, in fact, 
intentionally teasing me and themselves mercilessly, as part of a 
complicated game with a stranger from the internet, and clearly Denise 
wasn't planning to reveal that tidbit. 

Suddenly I realized that, whatever this conversation was, it WASN'T 
some weird effort at entrapment, and I laughed at myself for being 
worried. It was part of a game, and Denise had something in mind... I 
just didn't know what.

Fortunately, she began to enlighten me. "The thing is, she's fragile 
right now. 'Cause of her brother, then David, and all that. Hell, I'm 
fragile too," she chuckled, somberly. And continued, "but... so my gut 
feeling is that it would be a bad idea for you to call her on it."

"What do you mean, 'call her on it'?"

"Well... let's put it this way. She's clearly in a phase where she's 
just becoming conscious of her body as, like, a sexual thing. Like... 
she's experimenting. She sees the attention she's getting from you, and 
it's exciting and interesting. Basically... " she paused, trying to 
formulate her point. Then she let it tumble out: "I'm worried she'll do 
something, and you'll get upset and reprimand her, and, well, hurt 
her." "Reprimand her?" I asked. Interesting word. 

"Look... Jase. You're my brother but you're also a man. I know how men 
are. You'll go along, letting her tease you but there will come a 
moment when it seems like... she's asking you to do something. And if 
you were an asshole, you'd just go ahead and do it, and damage her that 
way, and if you're a nice guy, like I'm pretty sure you are, you'll say 
something like 'stop, girl, you gone to far.' But with where she's at, 
right now, that might damage her more."

Uh oh... hope I didn't turn out to be an asshole, after all - I 
suspected I might. But I was getting her point, even if it seemed very 
shaky from a rationality standpoint.

"Denise, are you trying to tell me to 'play along' with her? Or 
what..."

She was biting her lip again. And... I suddenly realized, she was 
rocking, very, very gently, where she sat on the bed. And I remembered 
what "Finn" had tasked her with. Whoa... she's getting really excited 
from this. Extremely. My sis was a serious perv. I couldn't help 
grinning stupidly.

She interpreted that grin exactly right, despite the missing 
information. "You perv," and she slapped my foot under the blanket. 
"But yes, I guess that's what I'm saying..." 

"What exactly is it you're worried she'll do?" I finally asked.

"Well... I don't know. She might try flashing you, or sit on your lap, 
or ... I don't know. The kinds of things girls do, at that age. Stuff I 
did, for that matter." I could tell she was embarrassed by that 
confession.

"Stuff YOU did?" I asked. "I don't recall... "

"Hah, poor Jason. You didn't really know what was going on. You're 5 
years younger, remember - when I was fourteen, you were nine."

"What DID you do, when you were fourteen, and I was nine?"

"I'll tell you another time," she finally said, and sighed slightly. 
"Let's focus on Lissa."

"Ok." I swallowed, overwhelmed by the strange mix of tensions. "So... 
what is it you want me to do?"

"I'm not asking you to DO anything. I'm asking you to just, um, do 
nothing, actually."

"PLEASE explain," I said, feigning an annoyedness I had stopped feeling. 
This was all very interesting. And exciting, of course.

"Ok. I don't know what she's going to do. She might not do anything 
more than what she did today - prance around in a towel and giggle some 
dirty words at you. But if she does do something more... just be nice 
about it. Ok? Don't 'catch' her at it, don't get her in trouble for it. 
Just... relax and enjoy it and whatever you do, be gentle."

I had a startling epiphany. This wasn't AT ALL about her playing a 
complex game around the fact that she might actually know that Jason 
was "Finn" and "Finn" was Jason. It was the opposite. She was 
completely certain that I had no idea what might be going on, and she 
was trying to make sure that I "behaved" as this weekend progressed.

I put myself in her shoes for a second - here's her brother, visiting 
for a few days. Here's her daughter, working hard to act as sexy as 
possible around him, with her mom's permission and encouragement: 
furtive masturbations, "accidental flashings," the works. Denise 
doesn't know how her brother was going to react to this. She couldn't 
afford having him think the whole situation needed some kind of 
intervention (a logical, ethical response, after all). She didn't want 
to have him lecturing her daughter (who was, genuinely, probably a bit 
fragile in the wake of losing first her brother, then her dad's 
suicide) sternly about "appropriate behavior" or some such. Of course. 
I nearly slapped my head "d'oh!" 

And, as a convenient side effect, Denise was getting off on the whole 
business of chatting intimately with her brother about her daughter's 
budding sexuality while she sat on his bed with a dildo rammed up her 
cunt. And KNOWING he had absolutely no idea. Wow.

All this raced through my mind in a matter of seconds, and I said, "So, 
what you're saying, is if Lissa jumps in my bed naked at some point and 
wants to play doctor with her uncle, I should just go with the flow?"

I had meant this sarcastically (and, of course, ironically vis-à-vis my 
alternate identity), but I was almost shocked, despite everything, when 
she practically clapped her hands and said, "Exactly!" 

At this, she stood, stepped a few paces forward, leaned over and kissed 
my forehead triumphantly. "You're really the best, Jason. I'm so glad 
you're my brother."

I was flattered and stunned. As Denise left my room, saying goodnight, 
it began to dawn on me that she'd essentially given me permission to 
take things to the next level, in my role as "Finn," without knowing 
that's what she'd done. She'd sent "Finn" a message I'm sure she never 
meant to send - go ahead and see just how far you can get both of them 
both to go, with Jason - especially Lissa. 

I wasn't sure I'd act on the content of the message, as I had my own 
ambivalences. And, given how I'd come by the "message" illegitimately, 
too - but it was certainly fodder for fantasy, I reflected, as I gently, 
teasingly edged my engorged, happy-unhappy, tortured cock.

Chapter 9. Black Friday.

The next morning, at like 6:30, there was a tap on the door and Lissa 
burst in. She was wearing the long-t-shirt nightie I'd seen her in the 
morning before. "Time to get up, uncle Jason," she trilled. "We're 
going SHOP-ping!" She'd said 'shopping' exactly that way, as if it were 
two very exciting words that were even more exciting when put together 
unexpectedly. Like maybe it was a new word for 'orgasm,' I chuckled to 
myself, recalling yesterday's vocabulary quiz. 

I had been lying there awake (having set my alarm), but I was radically 
non-mobile - a fairly typical morning-time state for me. "Need coffee," 
I grunted. It was meant as a joke, but much to my pleased surprise, 
Lissa raced out of the room and returned within moments with a steaming 
mug of joe. 

"Oh my goodness, thank you. You are a goddess." I said with utter 
sincerity. I sat up and sipped the beverage, and noted that Lissa was 
failing to leave the room. I was very conscious of my nakedness below 
the covers.

Lissa sat in the computer chair and spun it around. It occurred to me 
that if she was pantiless, as the rules required, with her legs out 
like that, all she'd have to do is spin another quarter turn in my 
direction and I'd see something truly wonderful. But she didn't. A 
tease, indeed, I reflected, sipping my coffee. Lissa pretended to be 
preoccupied with something on the desk.

"Can I help you with something?" I finally said, in mock seriousness.

She laughed. "Mom told me to make sure that you actually get out of bed. 
She said you are notorious for going back to sleep." This was, perhaps, 
historically accurate.

I grinned, and decided on the direct approach. "Unfortunately, my dear, 
that might be true. But I also regret to inform you that I sleep naked, 
and you probably REALLY don't want to be here when I 'actually get out 
of bed' as you put it."

She made a funny face then. Hard to tell what it meant. "Oh dear," she 
giggled. Then she leaped up, grabbed my kimono from where it draped 
over another chair, and flung it at me. I flinched as I almost spilled 
my coffee. Might have been interesting if I actually had - all the 
leaping and shouting and such would have been fun, in retrospect. But I 
didn't. Instead, I caught the kimono. 

Then, she said, "Ok I'll shut my eyes - you have 5 seconds." She 
immediately shut her eyes and began to intone "one... two..."

I blurrily reached the conclusion this was fun. I set down my coffee in 
a careful, quick motion, and as rapidly as possible, I rose and had 
just brought the kimono closed when she reached 'five' and popped her 
eyes open again. 

"Ah, you're up. Good," she grinned. And at that, she raced from the 
room. 

Really, a very effective way to get me up, I reflected. In more ways 
than one, too - glancing down at the ill-concealed cylinder attached at 
an awkward angle to my pelvis. Re-collecting my coffee, I padded out to 
the dining area and sat down at the table, one hand in a pocket to 
dissimulate aforementioned object.

Lissa had already disappeared into the bathroom, but Denise was there 
in her robe, sipping her coffee and eating some toast.

We discussed the plan for the day. We would be leaving at 7. No mention 
made of the night before. As soon as Lissa emerged in her towel and 
turban combo, I fetched my bathroom kit and took my own shower. The 
urgency of the morning's plan had me sufficiently distracted that I 
didn't have to put up a protracted struggle with Mr Woody, so in a few 
minutes I emerged and went into the den and shut the door to get 
dressed.

All very orderly - we were out the door by 5 till seven. My sister was 
very good at making schedules happen, I'd always known, and Lissa was 
clearly a chip off the old block in that respect. I was just along for 
the ride, I decided - at least for the day. This wasn't really a 
variation from the day-after-Thanksgiving pattern that had prevailed in 
my family for many years.

Denise was wearing a nice green medium-length skirt, kind of billowy 
and flirtatious, along with a cream silk blouse and a denim jacket, 
with some comfortable looking flats on her feet.

Lissa was more casual, with a pair of overalls, some kind of tube top 
underneath, and some slip-on canvas shoes, Vans maybe. She had her hair 
in a pony tail, and was looking very little-girl today. 

I realized that although it didn't look particularly sexy, the loose-
fitting overalls were probably great for what you might call "access." 
They had those big buttons with wire loops on the side that meant that 
anytime she sat or twisted a certain way, you realized you were looking 
right at her naked hip bone. And although one couldn't quite tell from 
a cursory examination, I of course KNEW she wore nothing underneath - 
no panties! And no bra under that little tube top that was basically 
just a thin pink strip of cloth from her armpit to a few inches below 
the bottom of her breast line. If she leaned forward, and one was 
sitting at the right angle, one could probably look in from the side 
and see her belly button, the overalls were loose enough. And that 
meant, if she leaned forward more... 

I was wearing some jeans, with boxers underneath, comfortable sandals, 
and a t-shirt with a jacket. It was unseasonably warm for the end of 
November, so we really didn't need to worry about dealing with the cold 
before getting into the mall we were going to.

We parked at the mall and the "girls," as I was thinking of them, 
immediately set off with me in tow. Oh, they clearly had a program - 
but, at least for the first several hours, that program was evidently 
more related to material acquisition than to the sexual escapades that 
were near and dear to my own heart. Although they seemed to spend an 
awful lot of time in dressing rooms.

Finally, we stopped and had a snack at a coffee joint (some kind of 
Starbucks clone) around 11 o'clock.

Surprisingly, Lissa announced that, having seen all the good sales, she 
was starting to feel "all shopped out."

"There's a few more things I'd like to check out," Denise said. "How'd 
you like to wait here while I go do that?"

Lissa nodded, and Denise turned to me. "I expect you'd rather stay with 
Lissa than come with me, Jason?"

I wasn't sure what the "plan" was, though I was certain there was one. 
I figured the correct choice was being presented. And it was what I 
preferred, anyway.

"I'd definitely rather sit here with Lissa than keep walking around." 
And added, with humor, "I'm a male, after all - males prefer sitting to 
shopping." 

Lissa laughed at this, and Denise grinned, and without a backward look, 
she was off, waving a distracted, one-handed goodbye behind her lovely, 
retreating, swaying behind.

I looked over at Lissa, who was nursing one of those over-sweetened 
frozen coffee concoctions. She grinned around her straw, but we were 
both quiet for a while, and I turned away to do some people watching. 
Trying to avoid the obsession I was developing with my niece. 

After about 5 minutes, she'd noisily slurped away the bottom of her 
drink (in a way that for some barely conscious, and completely 
inexplicable reason, had me riffing, in my mind, on Nabokov's character 
Ada, from his novel of the same name - if you're curious, look it up - 
I much prefer it to his more well-known "Lolita").

She tossed the plastic cup into the trashcan behind her, and turned to 
me, "there is one thing I'd like to shop for, but I need your help." 

"What's that?" I asked.

With her chin, she gestured at the Victoria's Secret store across the 
way. "I want to go in there."

"Maybe you should go with your mom in there," I suggested, but very 
half-heartedly, as I was remembering both my conversation with Denise 
last night, and was also feeling some certainty that this was part of a 
developing plan both women had already worked out between them.

"I can't. Because it's FOR mom." 

I was confused. "You want to buy something for your mom at Victoria's 
Secret?" I asked.

She nodded. "She was complaining to me a few weeks back that one thing 
she misses since, uh, dad died, is... no one buys her nice frilly 
things anymore." 

"I see," I volunteered, non-committally.

"So I think we should get her something frilly. A Thanksgiving present, 
kinda."

"... OK," I said, slowly. "We?" Long pause. Finally, I gave in, as she 
just sort of stared me down like a self-satisfied housecat. "Ok. What 
did you have in mind?" 

She regained her animation, and I realized she'd been uncertain of 
victory in that silent debate we'd just had, although it had seemed 
foreordained, to me. 

"Hmm, like a nice baby-doll thing. But here's the thing... you have to 
pretend you're, like, her boyfriend... they'd think you were, like, 
extremely weird if you said you were her brother."

"I think you're probably right, there," I admitted, grinning with her. 
I decided to just "go with the flow," as Denise had urged, last night, 
and so I stood up, collecting the bags of already-purchased items which 
I was "in charge of," per Denise.

Lissa jumped up beside me and helpfully grabbed one of the bags I 
wasn't carrying very gracefully, and we strolled across the way. Before 
we got inside, she leaned up to my ear, and said softly, "They're going 
to think you're a weirdo, anyway, coming in here with a girl my age." 
And giggled.

I only had time to nod before we got inside the store. Lissa seemed to 
know where to go, and we weren't there long before a clerk came over to 
help. A college-age girl, slightly plump but not at all unattractive. A 
bit of a goth vibe, going. I'd have quickly obsessed on her, had I not 
been with my nymphetic niece.

Lissa took charge, explaining immediately that we were shopping for a 
baby-doll for her mom and that she was along because I would get the 
wrong thing otherwise - leaving unsaid but implying I was "mom's" 
significant other.

The girl smirked a little but didn't seem disgusted by what appeared to 
be a father-daughter team shopping for mom's anniversary present or 
some such. So Lissa held some things up, examining them. "I hope you 
know her size," I said, quietly. Lissa just nodded.

The clerk left us alone once it was clear Lissa knew what she was after, 
and drifted off to stalk more conventional customers. I was still 
puzzling out what was going on. This wasn't, conceivably, part of any 
task I'd given them (though it was giving me ideas!) and I wondered if 
it was something they'd come up with on their own. Or even that Lissa 
had come up with on her own. In my role as "Jason," obviously, my only 
plausible tack was sincere cluelessness. 

Finally, Lissa appeared to have settled on something. She held it up 
for me on its hanger. "What do you think?"

I shrugged, and, aware the clerk was still smirking at us from afar, 
added, "Looks awesome." Using a contrived tone of male wolfishness. 

Lissa slapped me playfully on the chest but began walking resolutely 
toward the counter. I readied the credit card - that, at least, was 
entirely predictable - I wasn't exactly naive about female psychology, 
after all.

That's when the expected curve ball flew. We were about halfway to the 
counter, when she paused at a rack, and turned back to me, "hey... can 
I get something too?" 

In as paternal a tone as I could muster, in the circumstances, I said 
something like, "what did you have in mind?" A bit hoarse, with 
awkwardness.

"Um... maybe something like this?" She lifted a pair of lacy, pale blue 
panties from the rack, with a fair amount of real estate put over to 
sheer transparency.

This was a little play she was acting out, I realized. Combining my 
insights as "Finn" with the content of last night's conversation with 
Denise, I reached my conclusions: A fantasy - having "daddy" buy her 
some frilly panties at Victoria's Secret.

Boy, was that store crowded, the day after Thanksgiving! I felt myself 
breaking out in a sweat. Online dares and fun and games were one thing, 
but this was intense.

So far, no one except the smirking clerk seemed particularly aware of 
us. I met the woman's gaze, ever so briefly, and felt like she just 
KNEW the whole damn story. Silly.

I wondered if Lissa was going to go through the pantomime of trying the 
goodies on. What part of this game was "doing it" for her? The daddy-
daughter thing? The embarrassment I was displaying? The gaze I would 
fix on her if she tried something on? Denise's voice from last night 
echoed in my mind - "go with the flow." 

For the first time since this whole thing had started, I sensed that 
neither of my alter-egos - neither the real-world Jason nor the 
fictional "Finn," were in any way in control, here. Denise and Lissa 
had their own program, despite their information deficit, and they were 
going to run with it. And I found I reveled in it.

My voice cracking slightly, and with as low a tone as I could muster 
without seeming to whisper, which ironically would have probably drawn 
a great deal more attention, I said, "do you, ah, know what size you 
need?" 

Lissa looked up at me quizzically. With that simple line, I'd managed 
to let her know I understood the game and was willing to play. I 
watched the wheels turning in her head. Speculatively, her thoughts: 
not, do I know my size? but rather, does this game require that I know 
my size? Foregone conclusion: definitely, I don't know my size. Hah. Or 
maybe she had it all planned out.

Shaking her head shyly, she said, softly, "I probably should try them 
on - just to make sure." 

"Well, let's go," I said, with what I hoped was the right mix of 
paternal-sounding resignation and exasperation. We worked our way to 
the changing rooms, to find the perceptive, smirking clerk waiting for 
us.

"Can I try these on?" Lissa asked the woman, all innocence. The clerk 
quickly directed me to a sitting area, somewhat removed, and led Lissa 
into a changing area around a barrier. I realized the place was set up 
so that voyeur males of my class couldn't really spy around the female 
dressing rooms - some store designer understood the perverted mind 
pretty well.

So Lissa was around the corner. I wondered if she'd have the gumption 
to come around the corner in those panties - I rather doubted it. Way 
too many people around. A step too far....

Sure enough, a long five or so minutes later, she reappeared in her 
overalls, not the panties. The panties back on a hanger. With a shiver, 
I recalled the "free masturbation" clause of the Friday tasks I'd given 
the two of them.

Hmm, did she appear a little flushed? Maybe that was her only game. 
And... oh, one strap undone on the overalls. Both side buttons undone. 
Perhaps, too, an excuse for a bit of dishabille, then? As if she'd 
forgotten, or was too lazy, or expected to have to go back in. 

Lissa grinned and said, still shyly (the clerk still in earshot) 
"They're fine." 

So again we worked our way to the counter, where she slouched against 
the counter beside me, as I paid for the items.  Although I was 
studiously avoiding looking at her, myself, I was acutely conscious of 
the clerk gazing, with slightly widening eyes, at the crack in the side 
of Lissa's overalls. So.

The items paid for, we returned to our perch at the cafe across the way 
- surprisingly, the same table we'd been at before was untaken. Lissa 
occupied herself with hiding the contents of the Victoria's Secret bag 
inside one of the others, so her mom wouldn't "see her present."

Meanwhile, I now felt more free to study Lissa's coverings, rendered 
slightly more casual. As she leaned forward over the bag, the side of 
the overalls crumpled open, and I swear you could see right to the top 
of her thigh. A slightly different angle.... And with the one shoulder 
strap undone, the braless condition of her breasts (well, the right one, 
anyhow) under the tube top was more evident. 

I managed to be looking somewhere else by the time she finished 
rearranging the purchases and had folded the VS bag and put it into the 
trash, handing me the receipt conscientiously. Then she leaned close 
and whispered, "I gotta run to the restroom." And was gone.

Once again, I reflected on the free pass I'd given the girls, and 
realized they'd likely been exploiting it all morning, and would be 
doing so as long as we were here. Certainly, Lissa appeared to be doing 
so. About 5 minutes later she reappeared. She done up both straps on 
her overalls, but I noted the sides were still carelessly undone.

She came over and leaned against my shoulder. Hip to shoulder... I 
could feel the actual heat of her bare skin through the thinness of the 
shoulder of my t-shirt. "Still no mom?" she queried. 

I shook my head. Suddenly I detected a musky scent... wow, was that 
what I thought it was? I grinned up at her, "having fun, Lissa?" 

A weird play of emotions across her face: uh oh he knows no he can't 
possibly know oh how embarrassing oh this is wild. All in a flash. 
Probably me, projecting - not even remotely possible it was that 
transparent. I had TOO MUCH knowledge.

She smiled back and nodded quickly, moved around and sat down. Jumped 
right back up again. Clearly restless. She announced she was going to 
order another drink. "Want something?" she asked.

I shook my head. She disappeared, returned another 5 minutes later with 
a Jones soda. A sickeningly blue shade. She pursed her lips between 
swigs. I've got to stop staring at this girl, I thought. I'm like an 
infatuated teenager. I should have told them my name was Humbert, not 
Finn, I reflected, wryly. I'd never have dreamed it would develop this 
way.

As we waited, and I watched her constant state of slight agitation - 
this sort of oblivious hyperawareness she was projecting around her - I 
had two thoughts. First, it was glaringly obvious how aroused she was. 
Second, she was struggling with something more than that.

Some kind of indecision or frustration... ah, of course - it struck me. 
She'd had some kind of plan, relative to her task today, for inside the 
Victoria's Secret, and maybe it hadn't gone as expected. She was 
puzzling how to accomplish her task, and she was stumped. Something 
hadn't gone as expected, in the Victoria's Secret store. She'd either 
lost her nerve or missed an opportunity. 

I'm not sure why I felt so certain of this, but I was. I wondered which 
of the two options she had been intending to accomplish - her groping 
me, or my groping her? And, I wondered how I might facilitate a 
resolution. Think, Jason.

The cafe was crowded. There was only one free table. Lissa and I were 
at a table with three chairs. When a party of four attempted to occupy 
the last table in the cafe, in a moment of inspiration I donated the 
third chair to them.

"Now where's mom gonna sit, when she gets back?" asked Lissa, a bit 
petulant. But, I saw the wheels begin turning, as I shrugged at her.

"Don't worry about it," I said.

"Oh well. I'll sit on your lap." She stuck out her slightly blue tongue 
at me. You go, girl. Quick on the draw, as always.

A few more minutes passed, we were pretty quiet. She studied some 
catalog that had come along with some purchase or other. I watched the 
crowds. "There she is," I finally said. Denise was coming back, 
shopping bags suspended from both hands, green skirt swishing sexily on 
her hips - at least I thought so.

Chapter 10. Improvisations.

Denise reached the table, and threw down her most recent purchase with 
triumphant exhaustion. Lissa looked up, and stood energetically. I saw 
the glance the two exchanged, the subtle, disappointed shake of the 
head Lissa gave her mom. "Here mom, you can sit here - there's only two 
chairs. Jason gave the other one away." This last with a flippant 
gesture of disgust in my direction.

Denise was clearly a bit weary on her feet, and sat gratefully, with a 
heavy sigh. Lissa stood with her hands on her hips for a moment. Trying 
to build up the nerve to... "Here, uncle Jason - let me sit on your 
lap." I somehow had known it was coming. The lap was ready.

Denise grinned across at her daughter and me, as Lissa perched a little 
awkwardly on my knee. "Don't harass your uncle, hun," Denise said, 
gently. 

Lissa twisted around, smelling delicious, so close, looking me in the 
eye. "I'm not harassing you, am I?" 

"No Lissa. You're fine."

This lasted a few minutes, until Lissa volunteered to buy her mom 
something to drink. Denise said sure, and ordered an iced latte or 
something like that. Lissa got up, using her hand behind herself, on my 
thigh, to leverage herself up. Pressing unnecessarily hard. Ah... 
practicing. She was calmer again, not as agitated as she'd been a few 
minutes earlier... perhaps she was feeling back in control.

She was gone some minutes, while Denise and I chatted about what she'd 
bought. Then after a short silence, she said, "Thank you, Jase." 

"For what?" I asked.

"You're so kind. You're being so kind to her."

I shrugged, false modesty. How could a horny heterosexual male between 
the ages of 12 and 102 not be kind to Lissa? But I didn't say this to 
Denise.

Lissa returned with her mom's drink, and, after a bit of fidgeting, 
announced she had to run to the restroom again.

"Too much soda," I volunteered. Though I had a different hypothesis I 
chose not to share. Denise smiled indulgently.

Denise enjoyed her drink, and announced that "shopping is over" for the 
day. It was only 1 o'clock. What would we do for the rest of the day?

Lissa returned (still her side buttons undone), and perched again on my 
knee. Less than a minute passed when Denise announced that she, too, 
had to use the restroom. 

"Oooh, a seat," exclaimed Lissa, melodramatically. And it was almost as 
if in slow motion: As Denise strolled way, Lissa reached back as before 
and planted her hand to leverage herself from my lap. But she'd perched 
more off center, this time, and the hand unerringly landed right on the 
Johnson family. Very well done, my girl. Push, and launch, and swing 
around, and sit. Like a gymnast vaulting off a new piece of equipment. 

I was impressed, though the fondle had been, inevitably, 
disappointingly brief. Lissa pretended not to have been even aware what 
had just happened - total innocence. The most gratifying moment was 
when Denise came back up and I caught the victorious nod Lissa 
delivered to her mom. She might as well have grinned and gestured 
"thumbs up" like a star athlete. 

Now I wondered, what was Denise's plan? Rather than sit down, Denise 
said we should head back to the car. As we walked back through the mall, 
Lissa suggested we go to a movie. We decided to put all the bags in the 
car and see what was playing at the infinityplex next to the mall. A 
movie was selected - an action adventure thing that pleased me well 
enough, and soon enough we were in line buying popcorn and sodas and 
finding our seats.

The put me in the middle, between them. About a third into the movie, 
Denise leaned over sharply, to whisper something to her daughter. My 
hand was on the armrest... her breast pressed against it... firmly. 
Still leaned over, she said, "I'm running to the restroom, k?" And she 
was off.

That was TOO easy, I thought. Had she planned it, or had she exploited 
an unexpected opportunity? Maybe, as "Finn," I could find out later on.

Another third into the movie, and Lissa ran to the restroom. 
"Definitely too much soda," Denise giggled into my ear. I just nodded 
and watched the show, feeling weird, proprietary, cuddly, husbandy 
feelings toward my sister. After we exited the movie (which had only 
been mediocre), both of them needed the restroom again. Who could blame 
them? Wait, wait, wait.

We got home about 4:30, and the late fall sun was already setting at 
these latitudes. Denise began concocting something in the kitchen 
involving leftover turkey, and Lissa spent some time unpacking their 
purchases, and then asked her mom and me if she could go on the 
computer. Denise assented, and I helped my sister in the kitchen, and 
we all had dinner.

After dinner we cleaned up (Lissa was diligently helpful, impressing me 
- up to that point, I'd been wondering if she ever did chores, and had 
been thinking her mother was perhaps spoiling her a bit). Finally, I 
bravely fetched my laptop and perched on a corner chair in the living 
room and fired up, and found my way online again, while Lissa and 
Denise reviewed their purchases.

Of course, I found an email from Lissa. She described the day with some 
detail... not quite the level I've given above, but from a different 
perspective. Basically, a series of masturbation sessions in dressing 
rooms and restroom stalls, broken up with some incidental stuff. She 
said she hadn't had much of a chance to talk to her mom yet, but she 
did "a fondle" on her uncle, as she put it, "though it was very fast 
and I didn't feel anything hardly." She described, briefly, what she 
did, but spent more detail on explaining the failed plan that had 
preceded it, giving me some insight. 

The intention had been to try on some panties at Victoria's Secret, and 
come out of the dressing room wearing them and ask if they were too 
tight and somehow get uncle Jason to feel said too-tightness. But Lissa 
admitted several mistakes: a) she didn't realize how far away the sales 
clerk would make him sit to wait while she changed; b) she really 
didn't have a clear plan how to get him to touch her; c) worst of all, 
the panties she choose were simply far more revealing than she'd 
expected and when she saw herself in them, she lost her nerve.

Once that plan had failed, that ruined Denise's plan to be the one who 
groped uncle Jason, and so the rest of the afternoon was improvisation. 
Finally, she concluded, "I brought myself soo close a couple times, 
today, but the worst was in the theater - I nearly came and had to like 
gulp breaths and was shaking for 5 minutes in the bathroom stall to 
calm down from it. But I was a good girl. Talk to you later - Lissa."

As I finished reading the email, Lissa came into the living room. I 
minimized the windows on my laptop, and looked up at her.

"I think it's time to give mom her Thanksgiving present," she announced. 

"Well... it's really from you, Lissa. Go ahead." 

There was some commotion and Lissa had her mom come into the living 
room and sit on the couch, and she brought in one of the shopping bags. 
"I got you a Thanksgiving present, mom," she announced.

"That's so sweet, darling," Denise said. "What is it? Pottery Barn?" 
That was the bag she'd switched the baby doll into at the mall.

Lissa shook her head, and pulled out the baby-dolls - lovely emerald 
green, notoriously Denise's color. 

Denise seemed genuinely surprised, and I suspected the gift purchase 
had been Lissa's own exclusive idea. Denise admired her gift, and then 
turned to me, "you paid for this, didn't you?" 

I nodded, sheepishly. My sister nodded back. "I didn't think Lissa had 
this kind of cash," she reasoned. 

Lissa seemed annoyed that my role in the whole thing had been as 
transparent to her mom as it was. But she seemed more pleased when her 
mom gave her a nice opening of her own, when she asked, "so did you get 
your uncle Jason to buy anything for you, dear?"

Lissa was ecstatic, and ran and fetched her new panties from her room, 
and brought them out hanging from her hand. Now, I don't know for sure, 
but I doubt there are many mom's that would have been completely 
pleased if a 14 year old daughter had gotten her uncle to buy her 
panties quite like these. But Denise was one such mom. And it was 
Denise who proposed that they both model their acquisitions for their 
"benefactor" as she jokingly put it. "Since he paid for them, after 
all."

I could have seen this coming, I reckon. From the minute Lissa had led 
me into the Victoria's Secret store, that morning, this was the obvious 
conclusion. But I confess it hadn't occurred to me. Really.

Denise was the first to emerge, in her baby doll. Very sexy, but no 
more revealing that the towel Lissa had been in yesterday. And, well, 
yes, the nipples were pretty obvious, I suppose. Denise seemed 
remarkably at ease, reclining on the couch, as I appraised her with my 
gaze. Then Lissa came in. She had changed into her nightshirt. She 
whispered something in her mom's ear.

"Lissa's afraid her new panties are a bit more daring than she 
expected," Denise explained for her suddenly shy daughter. "She's says 
they show too much."

At this, Lissa slapped her mom, but mockingly. "Momm!" she complained, 
clearly embarrassed.

"That's ok. No big deal," I said. "I saw them in the store... and just 
now she showed them to us. I don't need to see her wearing them."

Lissa's embarrassment seemed sincere, though I couldn't help suspecting 
there was an element of pretending, given the fact that she must've 
already known how much they revealed, having tried them on in the store. 
Perhaps a change of heart.

"They ARE pretty transparent," I offered, in absolute neutrality.

Lissa seemed to want to drop the subject, for the moment anyway. "Mom, 
can I go on the computer again?" She said, after we'd stared at the tv 
quietly for a few minutes.

"What is it you do on there?" queried her mother, but it was obviously 
rhetorical, solely for my benefit - she actually knew very well what 
her daughter did on there.

Lissa neglected to answer, taking the question as an assent, and 
disappeared into the den.

I was feeling brave and foolhardy... and the television was 
unfulfilling. I made sure I was angled out of view of both Denise's 
line of sight and the doorway to the den, and I reopened my laptop and 
logged onto yahoo. 

"Hi, Finn," came Lissa, instantly, on the screenname she and her mom 
shared. 

"Hi. Is this Denise?" I typed, intentionally guessing wrong.

"No, Lissa. I think I might be in trouble."

"In trouble, why?" I couldn't figure out what she might be referring to.

"I'm breaking one of your rules."

"Breaking?"

"LOL I'm wearing panties without your permission."

"Oh, I see. Why is that?"

Denise looked at me from the television. "What are you working on?" 
She'd apparently noticed as I started the sporadic typing of my 
conversation with Lissa. Did she suspect? I doubted... 

"Just some requirements documents, for work."

"Sudden inspiration?" she asked.

Lissa's instant message window was blinking, with her response. I again 
abandoned said requirements document, saying to Denise, "Yeah, I guess. 
TV's pretty boring." Denise chuckled. "No argument from me there." With 
a quick, decisive movement, and grin in my direction, she stood and 
left the room.

I looked down at what Lissa had typed:

"Did you see my email, yet?" 

"Yes," I answered.

"Well mom got this idea her and me should model the things I got with 
uncle Jason at Victorias Secret. I thought oh cool but the panties are 
kind of revealing and I chickened out."

"So you're still wearing them?" I asked.

"Yep - under my long t-shirt I wear to bed."

"Definitely against the rules," I typed. Meant mock-seriously.

Lissa typed back, worried, "Am I in trouble?" 

I gave her a second to stew.

"Do you want to be?" I finally typed.

"LOL maybe." she answered immediately.

Denise returned with her cuddly blanket, which she flung onto the couch 
and continued into the den. I heard mom and daughter's much lowered 
voices in there.

"Mom's here," flashed the next message.

"What's she think?" I asked.

"She thinks I should get a bonus task for breaking the rules," Lissa 
typed.

"Logical," I agreed. "Let me think."

A few seconds, then I typed, "Why are these panties embarrassing?" 

"My pussy kinda shows. Hairs, a little, the... you know.."

"I see. Do you feel sexy in them?"

"Oh god yess," she responded.

"I think your bonus dare should be to let him see you in them. I think 
you want that anyway, right?"

"LOL ya probly. I'm that obvious?"

"I know how the horny mind works," I said, mystically. 

"Mom's laughing," she typed. And I actually heard Denise's chuckle.

"So that's the task?" she asked.

"There's more," I said, spontaneously.

"Ok, what?"

"You said the original plan was to get him to touch them. I think you 
need to carry through with that plan."

"OMG..." was all she typed. More whispering. Then, "Ok. Talk to you 
later." 

And that was that. Quickly, I closed those windows and returned to my 
requirements document, as Denise came back out of the den and snuggled 
under her blanket. 

I gave Denise a few minutes to get settled into her spot, while I 
pretended to be diligently working on my document.

"What's she do on that thing, anyway?" I asked. 

"Some game she's into," Denise explained.

I nodded and did some rapid typing on my document, to make sure they 
didn't associate my typing with HIS typing... 

Lissa emerged from the den, and disappeared briefly into the bathroom. 
Checking her appearance in the mirror, I surmised... estimating, 
evaluating... procrastinating. Finally, she re-emerged. She crashed 
down on the couch next to her mom... the side closest to where I sat, a 
few feet to her left. Slouched back.

I kept typing on my laptop, as the two watched TV. About 10 minutes, 
and finally, unable to take the tension myself, I shut down my laptop 
and put it away in the den. Let's see how this would play, I thought.

Chapter 11. Show and Tell.

After a short time, Denise got up, stretched (very sexily in her 
emerald baby doll) and said she might go take a bath.

This left me and Lissa alone together, watching tv. About 5 minutes 
later, Lissa said, "I don't know why but for some reason I'm more 
embarrassed with my mom about these panties than with you."

I looked at her, as if surprised she'd brought the subject back up. 
"Don't worry about it, Lissa. That's sort of understandable - she's 
your mom... she's more in a position to be judgmental, maybe."

Lissa pondered this, as if surprised the situation could have somehow 
led to a ponderable idea. Or perhaps she was disconcerted by the way 
that I'd provided a logical rationalization for what was in fact an 
untruth - obviously, given what was going on, she certainly did NOT 
suffer from embarrassment around her mom in actuality. If anything, the 
opposite - whatever the opposite of embarrassment is.

"That actually makes sense, uncle Jason," she finally said.

"What, you expected me not to make sense?" I joked.

She grinned, relaxing. "Very funny," she jibed back. Pause. "So do you 
want to see them?"

I decided there was no point pretending I didn't know what "them" was. 
I decided to emphasize what was going on... or whatever was pretending 
to be going on: "You'd be ok showing me, now, as long as your mom's not 
here? You really don't have to. It was just a silly idea."

She nodded.

"Regardless, I think you're worried, needlessly. You've got a very cool 
mom."

Lissa shrugged. "I know... I just... "

"No big deal."

I saw that the things I'd said had set some wheels turning, in her head, 
and she was starting to get cold feet again. And... it occurred to me 
that that had been my intention... to give her cold feet again. To make 
it more difficult for her... to make her REALLY want it. Maybe it was a 
strange, indirect way of teasing myself with the situation.

"They really do, like, kinda show allot," she said in a quiet voice.

"So I saw." 

"So it'd be a little like you seeing me naked down there," she 
continued.

"I can imagine," I said, just as softly. Gently.

"Would that embarrass you?" she asked, raising her eyes and meeting 
mine.

"A little, yes," I admitted.

Shy smile. She seemed surprised by this admission, but pleased too. 

"I don't have a lot of, like, hair down there, yet," she confessed. 

Hmm... she was insecure about this? She'd flashed the guy at the mall, 
I recalled. She'd seen how her mom shaved. She'd seen Finn's stories, 
talking about how what a turn on a lightly haired pussy was. Perhaps 
she was only trying to reflect what she expected her uncle Jason to 
think she'd be insecure about.

Then again, maybe she was, whether intentionally or not, just trying to 
build tension... provide as accurate a verbal picture as possible prior 
to letting me see. The tension was delicious, I admit.

I stayed quiet, and she continued, "you can sorta see the outline of, 
like, the labia and everything." One of her little vocabulary words 
from yesterday. I couldn't resist, and began to recite, as best I could 
from memory, the definition she'd had written down. 

Lissa giggled. Then, taking a deep breath, "so, do you want to see or 
not?" 

I knew I could make it difficult for her, by leaving the choice to her, 
or resisting. I was tempted, but in the end, I took pity on her, and 
simply uttered, "sure."

Perhaps the most verisimilar would have been if she'd raised her 
nightshirt right were she sat, on the couch, several feet away. But she 
had a second part of this task, I knew, and so I wasn't surprised when 
she stood up from the couch, and came over to the armchair where I was 
sitting before raising her nightshirt, a mere arm's length in front of 
me.

She held the nightshirt above her belly button, revealing her tiny 
waist and still modest hips. The bikini cut panties were lacy and light 
blue, but had these almost utterly transparent patches, so that her 
sparse, black-haired pubic bush was plain against her pale caffe-latte 
skin. Very few hairs extended to the labia, and thus these were fairly 
clearly outlined in the tight cloth - they were more engorged than I'd 
visualized (though given how she'd spent the day masturbating in 
restrooms and dressing rooms, not really very surprising). 

"Doesn't leave much to the imagination," I finally said. "They're very 
cute," I added, picking a word I hoped this would resonate well with 
her.

She showed some spark, then. Growing confidence, with blossoming 
arousal, I suspected. "They're so smooth and silky," she said, running 
her hand cautiously just below the upper rim, careful not to actually 
"touch herself" to my view. "Feel it," she suggested, running hand 
across the other way.

I hesitated. She understood enough to realize this hesitation was a 
demonstration of my own personal weakness, not some failure of hers. 
She spun 180 degrees, looked at me over her shoulder, and ran her 
fingers on the back panel. "I like how they make my butt look," she 
commented. 

"They make it look very nice," I agreed. My heart was leaping. I bet 
hers was, too.

She spun back around and grinned at me, causing me to look away from 
her crotch to her dark, too-wise eyes. "Do you think they're too 
tight?" she asked, and slipped a finger under the edge, ran it a few 
inches and withdrew it, letting the lacy cloth snap back down.

"They're supposed to be tight," I extemporized. 

"They give me a bit of a wedgie, though," she commented, and daringly 
ran a fingertip along the evident valley between her labia. 

"That's just your natural shape," I said, reassuringly. Yes, her 
natural shape when highly aroused and engorged. Not something I felt I 
should mention. "You wouldn't want them to be baggy," I pointed out.

She giggled briefly at this. "True." Pause. "You really should feel 
them," she said, running her finger along a sort of diagonal from left 
inner thigh to right hip bone, right over the mons veneris. "So silky - 
but textured."

So - god - I relented, and reached out, and traced the path her finger 
had just taken, but in reverse - right hip to left inner thigh, right 
over the little hill of venus, feeling the way her fuzz pooked out the 
cloth. She shuddered, slightly. Shut her eyes, for a very long 2 
seconds. I decided not to point out that I could see a bit of moisture 
darkening the lacy cloth, at the crotch.

"Nice, huh?" she finally said. 

"They're very nice, Lissa." 

Without warning, she dropped her nightshirt again. She'd fulfilled her 
task - she was done. Though it was evident she was enjoying herself 
immensely, too, and more than a little aroused - she appeared to have a 
sufficient level of ambivalence that she wasn't planning to go one step 
beyond. 

But then, she genuinely surprised me - she reached up under and scooted 
them down, stepped out of them: left foot; right foot. And handed them 
to me, in a little wad.

She was already halfway out of the room by the time I managed to 
stutter, "hey, why are you giving these to ME?"

She turned from the hall leading to her bedroom, and said, quite 
flirtatiously, "Oh, I NEVER wear panties to bed, uncle Jason." Like it 
was the most obvious, self-evident thing in the world. "You can put 
them in the hamper in the bathroom. They need washing. Feel them, I 
think they got a little damp in the crotch."

And with that, she disappeared into her bedroom. I sat with the panties 
for a little bit, but somehow resisted the urge to raise them to my 
face or feel the crotch. Finally, I briefly ran the cloth between my 
fingers, feeling the moisture I knew would be there, then raised them 
to my nose and inhaled, memorizing the scent forever.

Actually, I never really had been much of a panty fetishist - but, I 
reflected that night - I could be persuaded. Indeed.

The next day was Saturday. I wondered which of the girls would do which 
task, and I daydreamed about seeing either of them naked.

I was incredibly turned on - the throbbing in my groin was persistent 
in a way that I had experienced few times since adolescence.

Certain that I'd be unable to sleep, I stayed in the armchair in the 
living room, pulled out my laptop and fired it up. 

Unfortunately, the neighbor's wifi I was bootlegging was being balky, 
so I was unable to go online. Frustration upon frustration! I spent a 
bit of time working on my document - the one recording these events. I 
had about caught up to the current moment, at least in draft form, when 
Denise padded out in bare feet from her bedroom, now wrapped in her 
robe, naked underneath, I supposed. I wondered if she'd decided to 
repeat last night's adventure, without Finn's prompting.

Seeing me in the living room, she plopped down on the couch across from 
me and pulled her warm blanket over her lap. I minimized a few 
incriminating windows (not really concerned she'd see, but just in case, 
I guess), but kept the laptop open, and looked up.

"Working again?" she asked.

I nodded. "Have a nice bath?"

"Very relaxing," she grinned.

I wasn't sure what made me say what I said next... perhaps I wanted to 
see how she played it off. "After you left, Lissa gave me the fashion 
show she chickened out on, earlier." Pause, then I went on, "I suppose 
you're right about her teasing me, after all."

Denise looked a little surprised that I'd brought it up, but not 
displeased. She just met my eyes, and said, with mock-seriousness, "you 
were kind, I hope?"

"I tried to be," I answered.

There was some silence... but not uncomfortable, just reflective, late-
night quietness.

"Reminds me of when I was 14," she finally said, a very low voice - 
almost a whisper.

"Ah," I responded, trying to encourage her to go on. "You hinted at 
something, last night."

She chuckled. "Oh, yeah. I really went through a phase when I was 
definitely testing things," she said.

When she didn't continue for some time, I decided she was waiting for 
permission to tell her story, so finally I said, "what did you do?"

"It's very embarrassing," she confessed, shyly.

"It might give some me some insight to Lissa," I suggested. I thought 
this a brilliant gambit - it made my interest seem less prurient, 
somehow.

This seemed to be exactly the sort of rationalization Denise was hoping 
for. She plunged into her little story.

"Well, when I just turned 14 I was really just developing. I think i 
started a little late - at least compared to Lissa. You probably don't 
remember."

"I don't," I smiled. "I was still a kid... not noticing such things, I 
guess."

"So, I guess somehow I had this sudden realization that boys looked at 
me differently. And then one day, I saw dad with that same way of 
looking at me, and I had this weird realization that it wasn't just 
boys looking at me, but all men. I suddenly felt very powerful. And... 
well, at the same time, I'd realized I could do certain things, dress 
certain ways, and get guys' attention, but it also made me nervous to 
try at school - I was terrified of being seen as a slut or something.

"So maybe cuz it was convenient, or seemed safer somehow, or I don't 
know why, I decided it was a good idea to test these things out at home. 
I think I sort of thought of dad almost as the subject of an 
experiment." 

Denise laughed at this - she'd always been fond of the scientist 
metaphor, and often seemed to approach her whole life as a researcher. 
She'd majored in biology in college, and despite her current work in 
corporate sales, she probably still saw herself as a scientist at heart. 
Almost my opposite - I worked in programming and IT, but had studied 
literature in college and saw myself as an artist at heart.

When she didn't resume immediately, I prompted, "you always were doing 
experiments."

"Yep. True enough," she laughed, and plowed back in. "So I started 
doing the kinds of things you've seen Lissa doing - traipsing around 
the house underdressed, saying flirty or dirty things... stuff like 
that. Especially around dad. One time, mom pulled me aside and told me 
to knock it off, said I was getting too old to lounge on the couch in a 
t-shirt and panties, but she didn't mention dad specifically. After 
that, I just made sure she wasn't around when I did it - but that added 
a new dimension because it made it seem I was more specifically 
targeting dad with my behavior. And I was curious to see how he 
reacted."

There was another pause. I asked, "so... how did dad react?"

Another laugh, now more of a giggle. "Oh, he looked. Same as I've seen 
you looking," she teased. "It was about then I probably realized men 
look at women at a level they don't entirely control, consciously. 
Again... made me feel powerful. It was exciting. 

"Finally, there was this time, I think I was in the living room, 
watching tv. I was in my cheerleading uniform, after Saturday practice, 
I think - but I'd taken my panties off from underneath."

She must have seen my eyes widen at this confession, because she 
laughed. "Ha, I know, every man's fantasy, huh?"

I nodded. "I can't believe you're telling me this," I finally muttered.

Denise gave me a penetrating look. "Does it bother you?"

"It's a little awkward. But very enlightening."

She smiled. "So... dad came into the room, can't remember, asking me 
something, and for the first time I got the courage up to 'flash' him a 
little. I mean, I'd gone around the house like that before, but had 
never plucked up the nerve to do something like that."

"Jeez, Denise."

"And he totally freaked me out, cuz, unlike ever before, instead of 
just looking guilty for a sec or trying to pretend he didn't see, he 
said something like, 'I hope you didn't got to practice that way.' Of 
course, I was mortified, and sat up straight and close my legs tight - 
which of course gave away I knew exactly what he was talking about. 
Still, like an idiot, I said, 'what way?' And so dad was forced to 
explain that he saw I wasn't wearing underwear. I could tell he was 
embarrassed and somewhere between pissed off about my behavior and 
fascinated by it. The dad role and man role in conflict inside him. But 
the pissed off dad part seemed to win out. He was pretty cold, and told 
me to 'be careful' or something like that."

Because she grew quiet again, I finally prompted, "so what happened?"

With unexpected somberness, Denise shrugged. "Nothing, really. I 
apologized, and said that no, I never went to practice that way. And 
somehow, because of getting called on it, I was too embarrassed to ever 
do anything like that again."

"I see," I finally said, and tried to smile disarmingly. "Ah, the 
foibles of youth."

Denise just nodded. Sensing that I was growing a bit distant, she said, 
"Aw, poor Jason. Probably thinking why couldn't I have ever done 
something like that when you were older? I saw you checking me out, 
when you were 14 yourself. But by then, I'd found other things to do," 
she laughed, tauntingly.

With unexpected forcefulness, I surprised myself, saying, "you were my 
first ideal of feminine beauty, Denise."

Long silence. "Wow, that's really sweet, Jason. Really sweet."

The moment was suddenly very uncomfortable. I'd confessed too much, not 
so much with the words as with the seriousness of the tone. Finally, 
Denise rose from under her blanket and came over and pecked a kiss on 
my forehead, very chastely, and said "Good night." And went back into 
her bedroom. 

Heavy sigh. I went to bed, and was so horny I didn't dare even tease 
myself. I just lay down, and felt the throbbing at my groin, and 
pondered the situation. I toyed with the ooze of precum I felt at the 
tip of my cock, and elaborated a little fantasy of my sister Denise 
catching me and watching raptly as I absently raised my sticky finger 
to my lips to taste myself.

Finally, I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 12. Snowy Saturday.

For Saturday, there was no early schedule, like the previous day, so I 
was allowed to wander out of my room on my own recognizance, around 
8:30. I kind of wished there'd been excuse for Lissa to come in and 
rouse me as she had the day before, but such was not my luck. 

Delightfully, and completely contrary to the mild weather of the 
previous two days, it was snowing outside. Very cozy feeling, inside my 
sister's modest home.

I emerged in my kimono, naked underneath as previous mornings, and, 
like the first morning, with an insistent, throbbing erection. I 
decided, as a matter of a sort of ascetic self-teasing, to sit down and 
join the girls for breakfast, rather than hiding in the bathroom to try 
to subdue it. A little more psychological edging, of course - the girls 
were at their teasing best. Both were still in their sleeping attire - 
Lissa in her long nightshirt, and Denise in her new baby doll. Neither 
had anything underneath, I was certain. Denise was sipping coffee and 
eating toast, while Lissa was having some orange juice and something 
that looked like a microwaveable breakfast sandwich. 

Good mornings were grunted. I got some coffee and joined them at the 
table. Enjoyed gazing at my sister in profile, as she perused at the 
newspaper, her left nipple amazingly, starkly outlined under the thin, 
green, silky material of her top. I could make out the tiny bumps of 
the flesh of her areola, and even the tiny indentation at the tip of 
the nipple. It must have been incredibly rigid, to show such contrast.

A little later, finally feeling more caffeinated, I went to take my 
shower. Having gotten cleaned up and put on some clothes, I set up with 
my laptop, in what had become my customary corner of the living room, 
and pretended to work. Actually, for a little while, I actually did 
work.

Until Lissa, who'd disappeared into the shower, re-emerged in her now 
standard turban and towel outfit. Rather than get dressed (I wondered, 
was she as reluctant to dress when there were no uncles around to 
tease?), she came into the living room and sprawled onto the couch with 
a combination of utter casualness and successful modesty that seemed to 
defy the laws of physics (as applied to towels, anyway), and quickly 
appeared to become absorbed in a magazine.

I continued to work, though now somewhat more distracted than before. 
Perhaps fifteen minutes later, Denise emerged, fully dressed, from her 
room and strolled in. She gazed at her daughter on the couch, and then 
at me, for a few seconds, silently, taking the two of us in. "I've got 
to run an errand," she announced.

I decided I didn't need to know. Might be a real errand, after all. Or 
just a contrivance to leave me alone with her scheming, horny daughter. 
What, me worry?

"Need anything, Jase?" Denise asked me.

"Not that I can think of," I replied, staring intently at my laptop 
screen.

"Hey, pumpkin - you need anything from the store?"

Lissa looked up, shook her head.

"You planning to get dressed, today?" her mom then teased. 

Lissa grinned. "Not if I don't have to," she sniped. Her mom left.

A few more minutes had passed, when Lissa cleared her throat... looking 
for my attention. I looked up at her, as she loosened the turban around 
her head and began toweling her long, damp locks. 

"I really wonder what it's like being a nudist," she remarked, quite 
out of the blue, and with a somewhat transparently feigned casualness.

Faking a level of distraction I wasn't feeling - I was, in fact, 
alarmingly focused on her every movement - I responded, "what brought 
that on?"

"Mom's comment," as if that explained things completely.

"Sorry. I didn't hear what she said." A bit of a lie... but I was 
curious what her train of thought was. I was conscious what their tasks 
were for the day.

Lissa laughed, and said, with an exaggerated tone that indicated her 
disapproval of my lack of attention to the situation, "well, mom asked 
if I was planning to get dressed today, and I said, 'not if I don't 
have to.'" 

"Ah." I met her eyes as she draped the turban-towel over the coffee 
table as if it were a drying rack. I decided to give her lots of rope, 
and concluded laconically, "don't let me stop you."

She turned shy, suddenly, and sat up straight, arranging the towel 
carefully, where it fell on her upper thighs. "Are you serious?" she 
asked.

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, you kinda just gave me permission to be a nudist," she said.

"I did?" I played stupid.

"Uncle JASON," she groaned with annoyance, that perfect teenage tone of 
contempt mixed with ennui.

There was a silence, she returned to her magazine; I plonked at my 
computer. 

"I would never be a nudist unless everyone else around was one, too," 
she said, at last.

"I see," I muttered, non-committally.

"Would you ever do that?"

"What? Be a nudist?" I asked. 

Lissa nodded, and met my eyes again, but more skittishly than before.

I felt compelled, unnecessarily, to try for a thoughtful answer. "I 
suppose I've thought about it. I didn't like getting dressed either, as 
a kid - and even now, I agree there's a kind of free feeling to being 
naked. But there are sexuality issues," I concluded. 

She mulled this over - certainly, what I'd said was not out of her 
depth, but once again she seemed rather thrown off by an unexpectedly 
thoughtful answer from her uncle.

"What do you mean, 'sexuality issues'?" she queried.

"Well, in our culture, nakedness is associated very deeply with sex. 
With sexual attraction. I don't believe those nudists who say it's non 
sexual - you can't just talk yourself out of your cultural background." 
I paused for a second. "But I do believe they're TRYing to make it non-
sexual. So, I do think they're sincere... and some may succeed more 
than others."

She had a bit of a dazed look on her face in response to this bit of 
discourse, but it lasted only a second. "You haven't really explained, 
though. Are you saying you think it's a bad idea?"

"Not at all. I just think, if you're going to be a nudist, you should 
be honest - with yourself as much with as with anyone else - about the 
fact that it can be sexually exciting."

"Hmm," she said, thoughtfully. "Sounds like you're saying I said I want 
to be a nudist because I think it's exciting." 

"Exactly."

She sat back in genuine surprise, and I couldn't help but watch the hem 
of the towel ride up her thigh. Then, "well actually yeah that's 
probably true." A long pause. "You're pretty smart, uncle Jason." She 
grinned, still shyly. "You know how my mind works better than I do, I 
guess."

I looked back up from my laptop and grinned back at her. "Thanks, Lissa. 
Really, I'm just opinionated and annoying. And I know how the horny 
mind works."

She looked up, almost alarmed, and I realized I may have made a mistake 
- I was making to open an admission of the subtext of recent days. But 
the open, mature level of the conversation had made me forget for a 
second the context, and the fact that I was talking with my fourteen-
year-old niece.

"Uncle JASON," she protested again, more firmly than before. "I am 
NOT..." she continued, but didn't finish her denial, just looked down 
and fiddled with the hem of the towel at her thigh.

"Whatever," She finally said. "I agree about the part that you're 
opinionated and annoying." Then, still not looking up, she asked, "so... 
but you never really said about whether you would be a nudist." A bit 
nervously, almost.

"I did kind of avoid answering the question," I agreed. I looked at her 
but she wouldn't meet my eyes, now. "So, uh, to answer... sure, I would 
try it, in the right company."

"'... in the right company'?" she echoed. "That's funny. Hah. No one 
wants to get naked in bad company," she observed, with unexpected, wry 
maturity, but still studying her lap.

I laughed out loud. "That's an excellent way to put it, Lissa. You're 
pretty damn smart, yourself."

She actually blushed, under her latte-tone skin. Flattery will get you 
everywhere. Lissa stretched out a leg, straightening a knee, as if to 
study her toenails or something, but she sat at an angle to me such 
that nothing more was revealed.

Then she expertly flipped my remark back at me, and put me on the spot. 
"So. Am I good company or bad company?" 

I mulled that a bit. Finally, I said, carefully, "You're very good 
company... with reservations."

"Reservations?" she appeared almost hurt, but then joked, "I don't take 
reservations."

I laughed out loud, again. She was proving quite fun to talk to.

"All I mean, is, you're young, Lissa." I realized I was starting to go 
down that path that Denise had as much as begged me not to take, the 
other night. I was forcing onto my niece an awareness that her teasing 
and flirtation might not be, well, appropriate. Just as my games as 
"Finn" were clearly not appropriate, for that matter. Such a hypocrite 
I am, I admitted to myself.

Her eyes continued to remain downcast, as she meditated on what I'd 
said. "That's your only reservation, is that I'm, like, 14?" she 
finally phrased, very precisely. 

"Precisely," I echoed my internal narrative.

"So if I was, like, 18, you'd be a nudist with me, no reservations?"

"Yes," I said, simply. A bit too quickly, I thought, too.

"Even though I'm your niece?"

I thought about this, briefly, and said, "right. That's not an issue."

I could tell she found this flattering. Then her mind took a different 
tack. "Would you be a nudist with my mom? I mean, if she was too?"

"Sure. If she wanted to," I said. Truthfully. Excited by the notion, of 
course, as I thought about it. I recalled an elaborate fantasy centered 
on exactly that idea, that I'd developed some years before. I felt as 
if Lissa were reading my mind. There was a fairly long silence, then.

After a trying to find a different magazine in shelves of the coffee 
table, and adjusting the knot in the towel around her, she at last 
looked up again and said, "I don't understand Why my age is an issue."

"You're a minor," I said, after some hesitation. I hoped she'd 
understood my point, and that I'd not have to explain.

"That's really just a law," she commented.

"That's a very wise perception, Lissa. But 'just a law' is still a 
serious thing."

"There's nothing illegal with kids being nudists," she said, 
reflectively. "Is there?"

"Actually, you're correct," I observed. "No law against it, that I know 
of." 

She didn't let me go on, but interrupted, "so..." but then, she didn't 
formulate her question, and I stayed quiet. She was thinking.

Suddenly she looked up, and said, "It's the sexy part that bothers 
you."

"Right - now were back round to where we started."

She looked confused, then. She clearly saw that the discussion had 
basically gone full circle, but I could tell she felt she'd missed 
something. I suspected I knew what she'd missed, but was reluctant to 
have to explain the gory details. It was such an enlightened, 
fascinating conversation, however, that finally, I couldn't resist. At 
some risk, I plunged in.

"I'll put in totally concrete terms for you, Lissa," I began, bravely - 
but immediately digressed, instead. "When I was young, I often 
fantasized about being a nudist. Of course, in my daydreams, I was 
always a nudist around people I found attractive - girls from school, 
whatever. You get the picture." 

She grinned.

"So... then, at some point I realized there were probably also going to 
be nudists I didn't find attractive at all. My grandparents. My German 
teacher, Ms Heber. That was one worry. The other was realizing that 
being naked around a bunch of people I DID find attractive wasn't 
straightforward. Much more for males than for females, sexual 
excitement has, well, EVIDENCE, I guess you could call it."

I paused here, expecting a question. It came. "What do you mean?" she 
asked.

"I mean, guys get erections."

Her mouth made a silent "Oooh right" of comprehension.

"So, if I was going to be naked around other naked people I found 
attractive, there was no way for me to hide the fact of my attraction. 
And that's AWKWARD, as I believe Sponge Bob has put it, in another 
context."

She laughed. Lissa was fond of quoting Sponge Bob, from his movie, 
where he says AWKWARD in that dorky voice of his, although I don't 
recall in what original context. 

And then I saw the light come on. She finished my train of thought for 
me, though she put in terms more personal than I'd been aiming for.

"You're worried that if we both got naked, you'd get an erection."

I was momentarily speechless. Why deny it? I just nodded.

She kept working at it, not prepared to abandon the topic now that it 
was so, well, personal. "But, erections aren't, well, illegal. Or are 
they? Does it depend what causes them? If a minor causes an erection, 
is it an illegal erection? That's silly."

She'd captured the absurdity of it quite quickly. There was another 
silence. I didn't laugh at her commentary, as perhaps she'd thought I 
might. 

Suddenly, she leaped up, grabbed the turban towel from the floor, and 
started to leave the room. "That didn't go at all as I expected," she 
muttered, and I thought likely she didn't realize she'd spoken aloud. 
She went into her room.

I hadn't really expected it to go that way, either, to be honest. I 
realized I'd been entrapped by what I sometimes called my "nerd bomb" - 
where my fascination for things technical or philosophical would 
unexpectedly trump my interest in things material or physical (or 
sexual, specifically). Generally, much to my dismay, and much to the 
detriment of a developing erotic or romantic situation.

Lissa re-emerged, a short time later, but, much to my surprise, still 
wrapped in her towel. I'd expected her mood to be destroyed. But she 
still had a task, of course. And she seemed to take those tasks 
seriously, I realized.

"Do you mind if I go on the computer?" she asked, moving past me into 
the den, presuming my approval. 

"No problem," I called after her, and quickly logged into yahoo myself. 
Curious what she'd have to say to Finn.

When she appeared online, she IMed Finn after only a short delay.

"I don't know what to do," she sent.

"What's the matter," I responded.

"Well... I had this plan for the task today. I talked about it with mom 
this morning, and she thought it was a good one. But it didn't work."

"What was your plan? Which task were you doing?"

"It was to be caught naked. But I took a different tack - I was going 
to talk uncle Jason into trying nudism with me."

"Oh. Wow. What happened?"

"He got all philosophical and crap, but I think he's worried I'll like 
turn him on or something."

"That seems likely - did you think that improbable?"

"Well, he made me realize that was kind of the point - I mean, I didn't 
so much as say that to him, but, I realized that it's why I find these 
tasks exciting."

"Explain."

"Well, like, most of these tasks are like either flashing guys or doing 
sexy things around them with them not knowing, but where you might get 
caught, like the masturbating stuff. Well, I starting thinking about 
why I was doing them, and realized, it's fun to think I can turn guys 
on."

"Ok, that makes sense. So what happened with the nudism thing?"

"Well, uncle Jason kind of got me to admit that to him."

"I'm still a little confused."

"Sigh. I mean, I said, basically, let's try nudism, and he said, why 
are you doing this, isn't it because it's exciting, and I had to admit 
that yes. So then... he said he would find it exciting too, and that 
was somehow a reason not to do it. Because I'm a minor, I guess."

"Ah. You scared him."

"I scared him? How's that?"

"Most men find sexually aggressive women scary at some level or another. 
Actually, I suppose the opposite is true, too - don't you find sexually 
aggressive men scary, if they're coming on to you?"

"OMG yes. This is totally making sense."

"Even straight up, regular ol' sex is a game. These teasing games we 
like to play, even more so. You broke a rule."

"I see." There was a pause, and she sent another line, "I'm worried I 
messed it up for the rest of the time he's here, tho."

"How so?" I asked.

"Well, it's like, the game's up, as they say. He knows whats going on, 
now."

"A valid concern. What do you think you should do?"

"I'm worried we'll have to stop."

"That's kind of extreme. Do you think it's your only option?"

"No. You're right, it's not. But uncle Jason's like mad at me."

"You think he is?" 

"Well... no. You're right I probably scared him. LOL he's acting like a 
guy my own age, at school, or something. Hmm.."

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm think we have to get more subtle. Or however that's spelled."

"Hah. How would you do that?"

"I was successful with the panties last night, btw."

"Congrats. What did you do?"

Lissa described in some detail what had happened. I sent back, "Ah. 
That's when you scared him - not this morning."

A bit of a pause. Finally, "Makes sense." 

"I still don't know what to do."

"How can I help?"

"I have to somehow unscare uncle Jason. But I also am super horny and 
want to do more tasks."

"That's a good summation. I'm not sure how to help you unscare your 
uncle. I understand the second part better."

"You're weird, Finn."

"I won't disagree. Opinionated and annoying."

Long pause. I was typing something more, to see if she was still there, 
when she sent, "silly. Will you be on, later?"

"Not sure. What's up?"

"I just made a decision."

"What are you thinking?"

"You'll find out." Mysteriously. And she logged off. 

I quickly hibernated my laptop, set it aside, and picked up the book I 
was reading instead - I suspected Lissa would be emerging soon.

Shortly, Lissa did come back out of the den. And she went straight back 
to her room. Something had bitten her, ideawise... I was left to wonder 
what it was.

Lissa emerged, minutes later, in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, looking 
more conservative than she had in since I'd been there. 

And she said nothing to me. I began to fear she was, herself, giving up 
on the program. But I was reluctant to probe, in my role as Jason. And 
shortly, Denise returned from her errand.

"The snow is beginning to pile up out there," she commented.

"Do you think I'll be able to get over to Marie's?" asked Lissa.

I looked between Lissa and Denise, inquiringly. Denise quickly 
explained that Lissa had been planning to go to her friend's house for 
the afternoon. I hadn't heard anything about it. I wondered if it was 
part of the plan. Denise answered her daughter that it wasn't that bad, 
and it was only a few miles to Marie's house anyway. "When do you need 
to be there?"

Lissa shrugged, "anytime. I'll call." And she popped out a cell phone. 
I hadn't realized she had one - I raised an eyebrow at my sister. 

Denise grinned and shrugged. "Teenagers have to have them, these days. 
I got it for her birthday," she explained, defensively.

Lissa drifted into the kitchen, chatting with her friend, and then came 
back out.

"Marie's mom says I can be over anytime. Can we go now?"

Denise nodded. "Maybe Jason wants to drive you over there?"

Lissa reacted sharply, "no." Pause, as I looked up, surprised at the 
vehemence.

"I just... I got something I want to talk to you about, mom," she 
explained. "Personal." And looking my direction, "Sorry, uncle Jason."

"No problem," I said, with fake detachment. 

And with that, the "girls" left to take Lissa over to Marie's house, 
leaving me nervously pondering what bug had bitten my niece during the 
morning's peculiar conversation. I was certain it hadn't gone well, but 
I wasn't to find out just how badly it had gone until later.

I watched the snow falling outside, and the disappearing taillights on 
my sister's Hyundai.

Chapter 13. Meditation and Reading.

Denise got home about 30 minutes later, to find me immersed in one of 
my business magazines. I hadn't forgotten the awkwardness of the 
earlier interaction, but I'd pushed it to the back of my mind with the 
realization there was nothing I could do about it except wait and see.

She fiddled in the kitchen for a few minutes, and asked if I wanted 
anything to eat, and finally put some chips and veggies and dip down on 
the coffee table in the living room and sat facing me on the couch. I 
could tell she wanted to Talk - in that capital-T way of Talking that 
women sometimes demand of men folk.

I closed my magazine and looked up at her, expectantly and, I hoped, 
not too guiltily. Sure enough, she plowed right in.

"Lissa told me about your conversation this morning," she began.

"I see," I said, non-committally.

She smiled at me, but with a serious cast. Her intentions were good, 
but she had something important to say. 

"I ASKed you not to upset her," she finally sighed, emphatically.

I nodded. "I'm sorry, Denise. I.... I didn't handle it very well. Is 
she very upset?"

Her faced brightened. "Actually, she seems to be handling it well - 
better than I expected. But you definitely brought her own behavior to 
her attention - in a way that's made her uncomfortable. She's just like 
me, Jason .... she'll put it under the microscope and dissect it 
unnecessarily, and far too extensively." A bit of a pause. "But 
actually she's mostly worried about having upset YOU. Did she?"

"I'm not, um, not upset at all. It was just awkward. And so I, of 
course, intellectualized the situation. That's how I handle awkwardness. 
It's part of a nerd's fundamental character."

Denise grinned at this self-deprecatory remark. "What exactly did you 
say to her?" she asked.

I immediately felt profoundly embarrassed. I sensed that Denise was 
relishing, at least a little bit, the effort to make me enunciate the 
earlier highly sexualized (at least, to me) conversation I'd had with 
her daughter.

And, having no idea what Lissa had already told her, I knew I couldn't 
cut corners or leave anything out. After a pregnant moment, I bought 
myself another minute, asking, "The whole story? From the top? How much 
did she tell you?"

"Just tell me from your perspective. From the top. I'm curious."

"Well," I took a deep breath, and plunged in. "Lissa, out of the blue, 
announced she wanted to try nudism. And was trying to talk me into it. 
So I immediately explained that I had nothing against it in principle, 
but... well I think used the phrase 'sexuality issues.'"

My sister raised her eyebrows, but not critically - just encouraging me 
to go on. And said nothing.

"So I guess I went on a bit about how I think that in our culture, 
nudism has a stronger sexual component than people are whiling to admit. 
And I guess I said something to the effect that I thought she wanted to 
do it because it was exciting for her. I'm afraid I used the word 
'horny' at one point," I admitted this with a bit of a confessional 
sigh.

Denise laughed at this. "I could see that that would be awkward," she 
agreed, and motioned for me to go on.

I took a heavy breath and decided to rush to the main point... at least 
the point that seemed to have derailed the whole thing. "So after some 
more digressions basically she got me to admit that I was afraid to try 
nudism with her because I was afraid of getting an erection." There, 
I'd said it.

My sister merely met my eyes with that wide, earnest gaze of hers, and 
nodded. Not unforgivingly; not forgivingly. Perhaps, mostly just 
fascinated and uncomfortably turned on, I realized, cynically. When I 
didn't add anything to what I'd said, right away, she finally prompted, 
"She said you wouldn't, because of her age."

I met her gaze, and shrugged. "Yes, I guess the resolution was that 
because of her age, I was uncomfortable with the idea of getting an 
erection around her. Which is true."

Denise's response was surprising, to me. She laughed. Then she said, 
"don't be silly, Jase. You've been getting boners around her since you 
got here. You just don't want her to SEE it," she teased.

I genuinely blushed. "It's, uh, that obvious?"

She giggled. "Naw... don't worry. I just know how guys are."

My relief must have been evident, as she grinned. "She wouldn't know 
what to look for, I don't think." Meant to reassure me, but it set me 
to wondering if it was true... surely, given mom and daughter's recent 
activities, they must've discussed the inevitable effect on men, and 
all that. In fact, they'd mentioned as much to Finn. 

Daringly, teasingly, I responded, "Oh. And you would, of course." 

Raised eyebrow. "I suppose so. But don't change the subject. We're 
talking about Lissa."

"Ok," I said.

"Well, I'm relieved. It sounds like you didn't frighten her." Denise 
smiled again, to ensure I understood she wasn't upset with me.

"If anything, she frightened me," I quickly joked, but half-serious, 
recalling the conversation I'd had with Lissa, as Finn.

Denise laughed again, and said, "Aww poor Jason." 

There was a long silence between us, then. Not as uncomfortable as I 
would have expected, just full of tension, both sexual and non-sexual, 
and unsaid thoughts. I leaned forward and had some carrot sticks and 
chips with dip, while Denise stared meditatively out at the 
accumulating snow in her yard.

Finally, when our eyes met again as I settled back with my latest 
dipped veggie, she spoke. "She also told me you said your only 
reservation was the age thing. She said you told her you wouldn't have 
any problems trying nudism around me."

I was unable to say anything intelligent to this, so I just nodded. 

She watched me as I absorbed her statement, then added, "so it wouldn't 
bother you if I saw you with erection, but it would bother you if she 
saw you with one?"

"Er..." I said, brilliantly. Finally, "uh, that's about it, I guess. I 
mean, what I said."

"Having second thoughts?" she teased.

I shrugged. "It's an awkward concept."

My sister seemed to consider this statement unproblematic. But she 
continued pursuing the subject - enjoying watching how she could make 
her brother squirm, perhaps. "Well, for the record, it wouldn't bother 
me. You having an erection, I mean. It's a natural male response, isn't 
it?" But she didn't give me time to agree. "Actually, I'm positive 
Lissa wouldn't be bothered by it either. She might be fascinated, and 
I'm certain she'd stare, as she admitted to me she's never seen one 
before - not a live one, anyway - but I very much doubt she'd be 
offended by it."

This caused a thought to gel in my mind, and I expressed myself before 
it could escape me. "That's not really my worry, Denise. I mean, that 
it would offend her. Or you."

"Oh? What IS your concern?" she asked, looking mildly surprised. "It's 
not like we can't control ourselves, Jase. We can look and not touch... 
just as you've shown yourself capable of." She giggled a bit at this 
last.

It was interesting how she spoke of herself and Lissa in a collective 
we, revealing the extent that they were sexual co-conspirators, and I 
had a moment of angst as I pondered how a genuinely "innocent" Jason 
would (should?) respond to that. Should he notice? Would it seem a 
bit... unnatural? Unexpected?

As I cogitated on these matters, Denise watched me closely. Suddenly, 
she erupted in a quick chuckle. "Oh, silly me! YOU're worried about 
whether YOU can control yourself. You're the guy, of course. Aww... 
Jason."

I just nodded sheepishly. And Denise, bless her, decided the 
conversation was over - she collected the chips and such that we'd been 
munching on and disappeared into the kitchen. I was dumbfounded with 
how things were developing. She was proving even more adept at teasing 
me psychologically than she or Lissa were able to do visually with 
their little flashes and showings. She was truly an adept student of 
the Finn-school. I began to anticipate the opportunity to come when I 
could grill her, in my alter-ego role, and find out how her mind was 
working on these matters.

I returned to my magazine, and about an hour passed eventlessly. She 
went out to move some snow on her walkway and driveway, and I got up to 
offer to help, but she refused and said it was good exercise. As she 
was coming back inside, she called out to me, "Hey, Jase... could you 
go online and see what the weather report says about later this evening 
- I want to know if we should go get Lissa early."

I nearly made the mistake of hopping on my laptop, before I remembered 
that she didn't know I had online access bootlegging her neighbor's 
wifi. So I got up and went into the computer in the den which was my 
guest bedroom. When I touched the mouse, the screen lit up, and I 
realized everything was still open from when Lissa had been online 
earlier. Yahoo messenger was running, and a browser window was open. At 
first, I thought to myself, "wow, that's reckless of her, to forget 
that I might see this."

But then, I realized what was in the browser window: it was a website 
called solotouch.com - one I knew fairly well myself, as it is a text-
only website specializing on the theme of masturbation, and has some 
excellent short anecdotes - fantasies and true stories all mixed 
together. Hmmm... I recalled that one of the tasks I'd given the girls 
was for one of them to somehow get me to see a description of her 
masturbating. And suddenly my evaluation of Lissa's "carelessness" in 
leaving the computer on changed from "reckless" to "clever."

Also open was another window, a simple text-editor window, and what I 
read there was amazing. It was written as if she was intending it as a 
submission to the website, a little self-contained vignette, in perfect 
internet run-on prose, which I'll paste right here in this narrative.

"I love this website, and it's fun coming on here and reading all the 
stories and experiences people tell. I've only been masturbating for 
about two years, since I was 12, but in the last six months or so I've 
really gotten into it, and do it at least once a day. I never thought 
I'd post an experience here, but I just have to tell about this thing 
that happened recently. Lately, I've been doing some really insane 
dares that a friend is giving me. One dare that I got was to play with 
myself when someone was nearby and in the same room, without them 
knowing. So, my uncle is visiting from out of town, and he's pretty 
cute and really nice, I used to have kind of a crush on him I guess. 
Anyway, he was sitting at the kitchen table and reading the paper and I 
got out of my morning shower and I was wrapped in my towel, and I came 
out and sat down across from him at the table and was looking at the 
comics, and I thought about the dare my friend gave. I knew my uncle 
sometimes was sort of very secretly checking me out, wrapped just in my 
towel like I was, so I felt kind of turned on, too. And it seemed 
perfect, there was no way he would know what I was doing under the 
table, and with the towel with nothing under, I had super easy access! 
I just put a hand in my lap, and when I was sure he couldn't tell what 
was going on, I let my fingers start to run up and down my pussy lips, 
nice and slow. I was so horny! I scooted my butt forward a little on 
the chair, and spread my legs, and looked up from my paper and he 
wasn't paying attention at all, just sipping his coffee and reading the 
paper. It was so freaky. I bent back over what I was reading, and began 
to seriously do my clit, little circular motions that work so good. But 
I couldn't read, my eyes were glazing over I was so excited. I knew I 
couldn't cum there, I would probably yell and fall out of my chair or 
something it was so intense. Plus, that wasn't part of the dare, and 
another thing I've been into is what I've seen here called edging, 
where you make yourself get really close to cumming but then don't let 
yourself, over and over, so that when you finally cum it's super 
intense. Finally I knew I was so close I had to either cum or stop, and 
with huge willpower I made myself stop. I could smell my own horniness 
and I was amazed my uncle didn't notice - or maybe he did! Anyway, that 
was yesterday and I still haven't let myself cum. I'll write again when 
I finally finish. Thanks, and everybody keep up the good work!"

I realized I'd been practically holding my breath as I read this little 
snippet. It captured the style and authentic feel of many of the 
solotouch postings, and was also very clearly Lissa's own voice. So 
she'd done that task, and in a very clever way. At last, I remembered 
what I'd come into the room to do, so I opened another browser window 
and checked the weather, only to find that the storm was predicted to 
intensify. 

I was glad that I'd minimized the other windows as at that moment 
Denise came into the room, having gotten out of her jacket, hat, scarf, 
gloves, etc., from her having been outside. We briefly discussed the 
weather situation, but we decided that Marie's was close enough that it 
didn't really affect when we went to get Lissa - worst case scenario, 
she could stay the night at her friend's house.

With that, Denise announced she was going to take a shower, having 
worked up a sweat shoveling her driveway, so she disappeared into her 
bedroom. I reread Lissa's text file, then saved and closed everything 
and shut down the computer. Then I returned to the living room with my 
laptop, and logged on - knowing I wouldn't be having any news from 
Lissa or Denise, but feeling horny and restless, I decided to surf 
alt.sex.stories or literotica a little bit and satisfy my cravings for 
erotic narrative. Naturally, I was sustaining a rather persistent 
erection, but I continued to successfully resist stroking myself. I 
felt a sort of obligation to not do it, given how well Lissa and Denise 
were playing along.

Some time later, Denise reappeared, now in her robe, and she made a 
call to Lissa to find out when she wanted to come home. I gathered that 
Lissa asked to stay through dinner at her friend's, so then Denise 
asked me what I wanted to do, as we had several hours before one of us 
would have to go collect Lissa. I just shrugged, and Denise came in and 
sat down on the couch across from me and absently turned on the tv.

I thought about her being naked under the robe, and about how, now that 
I'd read Lissa's description, it was Denise's task to get caught naked 
somehow, and I wondered how she'd do it. Almost as I was thinking this, 
Denise, quite out of the blue, said, "I've been thinking about the 
nudism thing."

"Oh?" I said, completely at a loss.

"I think we should try it."

"Uh..."

She laughed. "If only to make Lissa live up to her word. After all, she 
claims she's interested. And you said your only objection was the age 
issue - if I give my approval and participate, that is kind of 
irrelevant, don't you think?" But she said this rhetorically, as she 
clearly intended to brook no objections.

I looked at my sister with wide-eyed amazement, and finally managed to 
stutter, "you're serious?"

She grinned, and shrugged. "Why not? I've always been curious about it 
- you know, David and I were actually going to go do it, once, at like 
a nudist resort, when we were first married, but then he sort of 
chickened out. And Lissa said you admitted you've been curious about it 
too. So what the hell."

Seeing how uncomfortable I was looking, she quickly added some 
reassurances. "I really don't think you should worry about natural 
biological reactions... it's natural, and it's not like I'm naive. And 
Lissa, although inexperienced, isn't naive either, really. Actually, I 
have an idea..."

"What's that?"

"I was thinking, we could do a little 'practice run' before Lissa gets 
back. That way if I have any second thoughts, we can call it off." I 
noticed she was only concerned about her own second thoughts. Ah well.

There was a bit of dead quiet then, only the sound of a snow plow 
scraping by on the main street up at the corner. Finally, I said, "Well, 
I'd be a hypocrite if I said now I wasn't willing to try it, given what 
I said earlier to Lissa. But I'm feeling very self-conscious." And hard 
as hell, I added internally. The way things felt, I'd be showing not 
just a throbbing erection, but an involuntary pearl of pre-cum to my 
impulsive sister.

And just like that, with no further preliminaries or hesitations (I 
suspected she was nervous too, and was moving quickly to avoid having 
to think about it too much), Denise stood, shucked off her robe, and 
sat back down, naked as the day she was born.

Chapter 14. Uncoverings.

Of course I stared at my suddenly naked sister. Those amazing breasts, 
grapefruit sized with large, dark, puffy conical areolas and rigid 
nipples. Coffee brown natural skin, well-toned and smooth, nearly 
flawless. A mostly shaved pubic area, a small trimmed triangular tuft 
right on the peak of the hill of Venus, pointing downward like a road 
sign: "this way, please."

She started to close her legs, but I could almost see her thinking to 
herself, well, he's going to see eventually, and she spread them again, 
not crudely, just in the natural way she might, if she were sitting 
clothed. 

Finally, she cleared her throat, and I realized I'd been staring rather 
openly. I met her eyes but there was nothing but humor and kindness. 
"Your turn," she goaded.

"Well, it's not going to be as dramatic as you and your robe," I 
commented, failing to buy time. Realizing I had no choice: my earlier 
statements, and the subtle competitiveness that had always existed 
between us as siblings, guaranteed I'd go along with this game. Given 
that, there seemed no point in procrastinating. But damn, my penis was 
not cooperating. Throb, throb. Oh, hell.

I stood and pulled off my sweatshirt and t-shirt in one motion, and 
kicked off my shoes. Then, muttering something like "I can't believe 
I'm doing this," I decided to not even try a striptease, expecting I'd 
appear ridiculous. I just hooked my fingers in my waistline and dropped 
pants and boxers at once, and pulled the socks off when I got them down, 
thus completely stripping in a single fell swoop.

Here I was, naked in front of my sister, with a massive, unrepentant 
erection jutting from my groin. I sat back down, but didn't dare try to 
cover up, sensing I'd appear sillier doing that than just sitting there, 
and also, not willing to appear less comfortable with what was going on 
than she did.

Now, it was her turn to stare. At least there was that. When she looked 
up and saw I'd been watching her gaze locked to my groin, she grinned 
sheepishly and said, "geez, Jase, you weren't kidding about the 
potential arousal problem." And giggled, adding, "Not to worry, bro. 
I'll take it as a complement."

We both looked away for a little bit. Then, with an almost girlish glee, 
she stood swiftly and said, "whee, I'm I nudist." And strode from the 
room. "This calls for a celebration, don't you think?" she called from 
the kitchen.

"Um, ok," I said, but remained seated.

Denise reappeared behind the half-wall separating the living room from 
the dining room, brandishing a bottle of wine. "Want some?" she asked.

"Well, one of us has to get Lissa," I observed.

"Oh, right," she grimaced. Well... I'll have a glass, and you can go 
get her. You don't mind?"

I shook my head. She ran back around the counter and fetched a 
corkscrew from a drawer, and soon had popped the top. A minute later 
she reappeared in the living room with her wine glass with a nice white 
in it, and resumed her spot on the couch. I could see she had goose 
bumps as she sipped her wine and fiddled with the tv remote, but as she 
reached for her blanket she looked up and remarked, "well, that 
wouldn't be fair, would it? You want to turn up the thermostat?"

I really wouldn't have minded if she'd covered herself - I was still in 
a mild state of shock from the turn of events. From my "Finn" point of 
view, she'd gone "above and beyond." I was impressed. But from the 
Jason point of view I was self-conscious and embarrassed, not to say 
mortified. But also, of course, profoundly aroused.

I stood and went around the corner, tinkered the thermostat for a few 
seconds till I saw how it worked (these electronic doohickeys can be a 
bit of a challenge, sometimes), and returned to the living room, still 
throbbingly erect and, damn was that the glisten moisture at the tip? 
Just as I feared.

Before I could return to my chair, Denise patted the couch and said, 
"you can't see the tv very well from there - sit over here. There's 
lots of room."

How could I protest? Without a word, I turned and sat at the other end 
of the couch from where we were - about 3 feet separated us, but even 
as I thought this in my mind, she rearranged herself with a half-turn, 
bringing one leg up and leaning back into the corner, and her left foot 
was now mere inches from my thigh, knee half-raised - if she'd 
stretched out, she have had her foot on my oddly-structured lap. And as 
I involuntarily raised my gaze from the proximate foot toward her face, 
it crossed the middle region now almost blatantly spread: puffy outer 
lips spread showing hint of the inner ones, and goodness, was that her 
clit peeking out at the top?

Of course my gaze froze, there.

"You act like you never saw one before," my sister teased.

"Uh, sorry," I mumbled, and, feeling defensive, I snipped, "you're not 
exactly leaving much to the imagination."

She laughed, and her raised thigh made a dipping motion, close, open. 
"I already admitted to you that I have exhibitionist tendencies. Why 
deny it?"

Finally, I had to ask, "It really doesn't bother you that I'm your 
brother, though?"

She got a pensive look, as I finally managed to look at her face. "If 
it bothered me, I wouldn't be doing it, Jase. I wish you wouldn't let 
it bother you."

I shrugged. "I guess I just have to get used to it. It's, uh, hard..." 
I realized the evident pun, and decided to let her have her fun, so I 
stopped there. Denise loved to play with words, and could never resist 
a good pun.

"Damn, no kidding!" she exclaimed, predictably, with a pointed gaze at 
my surging crotch. Then, more unexpectedly, she asked, "when's the last 
time you gave that thing some attention?"

I couldn't believe my sister was asking me that. But I just shrugged, 
for a moment unable to formulate a coherent answer. Then, surprising 
even myself, I said, "I, uh, have a habit of intentionally neglecting 
it."

Denise's mouth made a little "Oh" and she looked from it to my eyes, 
and back to it. "Intentionally? I don't understand."

I suspected she did understand, given the exchanges she and Finn had 
had about the subject of edging. But, of course, she didn't want me to 
know that.

So I explained, "sometimes I like to, well, let the energies build up."

She grinned. "Oh, like teasing yourself?"

I nodded. And she surprised me again. "Sometimes I do that, too."

When I didn't respond, she asked, "so when's the last time you let 
yourself, uh... finish?"

"You really want to know such a thing?" I asked, letting my incredulity 
with the situation show for a second.

She kind of giggled and shrugged, and, probably unconsciously, brought 
her legs together a bit. "You don't have to tell," she said, "I'm just 
being nosy."

I tried to smile back at her, but wondered if it came off as that 
standard horny-male-with-only-one-thing-on-his-mind look, as she got a 
funny look on her face, and turned away. So I said, "look, Denise, this 
is all very interesting, but... you can stop at any time, and I won't 
hold it against you."

Too late, I realized I'd given her another pun to toy with. Without a 
lost beat, she lowered her gaze at my lap and almost coquettishly said, 
"you won't hold it against me?" A sort of plaintive voice. The meaning 
made clear by where her stare was fixed.

"Geez, Denise. Only if you want me to," I finally said, because it 
almost seemed obligatory. I've explained, before, that we'd sometimes 
exchanged double-entendres and even near-flirted with one another, but 
because of the circumstances - mutual nudity, a day of sexually charged 
conversation, my pounding tube steak - this was a whole different level.

She looked back up at my face and grinned, and the joke was past. 
"Maybe it would make you more comfortable... if you went into the other 
room, and uh..." She finally suggested, but even she blanched at openly 
telling me to go masturbate. Thus, after a short ellipsis, she 
concluded, "...Then you could come back and, uh, not be so 
preoccupied."

I laughed, mostly at her sudden shyness after having pushed it so far. 
That eased the tension. But I didn't jump up and leave the room, though 
I was sorely tempted.

We actually both stared at the tv for a while, in mutual silence. Then 
she said, "I definitely think that, if we're going to have Lissa join 
us, you might want to, uh, release a little, ahead of time."

"You still think that's a good idea?" I asked, genuinely amazed Denise 
was still contemplating this.

She smiled and said, carefully, "I think Lissa is the one that started 
it. She deserves to reap the rewards."

"Rewards?" I laughed.

"She's not as naive as you might think, Jason," she finally said.

"I don't think she's naive - not at all. I just, uh, worry if it's 
appropriate."

Denise meditated on this a little bit, and resumed looking at the tv. I 
looked for a while at my sister's beautiful body, and was clearly 
daydreaming, eyes glazed over, when the toe six inches to my right 
reached out and poked my thigh playfully. I looked up again to meet her 
eyes.

She gave a little speech. "I think society probably would say it's 
wrong, but I don't believe it's wrong, and I don't think you believe 
it's wrong either, you're just not comfortable admitting you like the 
idea. Lissa is mature enough to be able to say no to anything she 
doesn't like or doesn't want to happen, and if she is, you and I 
certainly are, too. And I trust you completely to stop anything or 
everything the moment anyone says 'no.'"

"What if I'm the one saying 'no'?" I asked, dead serious.

Denise almost looked crestfallen. And reflexively, she raised her other 
leg and brought her knees together, momentarily ending the show. Was I 
really serious, or was I just worrying her for sake of worrying her? 
I'm not sure I knew, myself. 

"If you're really saying no, Jase... we can stop right now."

"How far is this thing going to go?" I asked, genuinely curious if 
Denise had any idea herself, or if she'd been avoiding working through 
what sort of conclusion the current games might lead to.

She almost looked embarrassed, then. "Honestly, Jase, I wasn't, like... 
oh crap."

I sensed I needed to reassure her, then. "Denise, I already know you've 
got a kinky imagination. And for what it's worth, so do I." I laughed 
at my remark, to lighten it. She smiled, but wanly. I held her gaze. 
"So I guess we don't need to discuss it. We'll play it by ear... or by 
whatever body part we need to."

She giggled at this last, and visibly relaxed. And then, much to my 
shock and awe, she sidled over on the couch until we were side by side, 
hips touching, and kissed my cheek. "You're totally awesome, bro," she 
whispered. 

"You too, sis," I answered. I couldn't resist, then, "but you're also a 
tease."

"I know you like it," she replied, with a giggle. 

I nodded, in utter agreement, and turned back toward the tv. The heat 
of her skin at my side was making me ache. And pulse. I wondered if I 
would experience one of those extremely rare, stimulation-free 
ejaculations. Hmm.. that would be profoundly erotic and embarrassing, 
all at once, wouldn't it.

"I'm going to get some more wine" she finally said, standing again and 
strolling from the room. "Sure you don't want some?"

"Not if I'm going to fetch Lissa later on," I protested.

"Oh, right."

She came back with her wine glass, and folded herself back into her own 
corner, and sipped it for a moment.

"This television is crap. Wanna play strip poker?" she said, pounding 
the remote and killing the program I was definitely not watching.

"Very funny," I said, and looked around at her.

She met my gaze and looked back at my lap. For some self-conscious 
reason I followed her look and found myself face-to-face with my own 
throbbing monster, with a very evident driplet of precum poised on its 
end, now.

I looked away, feeling the arousal and the embarrassment all mixed 
together, and felt it jump involuntarily and knew she'd seen it.

"You really do have my permission, if you need to go, ah, relieve 
yourself," Denise offered again, helpfully.

I shrugged and didn't move.

"That's why I know you like it," she then said.

"Like what?" I asked, not following.

"Like when we tease," she clarified. I noted the 'we,' but chose not to 
draw attention to it.

"Explain," I said.

"Well, I guess most men I've known would have run to the bathroom or 
their bedroom a long time ago to do something about such a, um, problem, 
but you just keep sitting there torturing yourself. Especially with me 
giving you permission, and all. I really wouldn't be offended. But you 
like to tease yourself - you even said so. So of course you like to be 
teased, too."

"Uh, very perceptive, Denise."

She laughed. "Well, it's easy to identify in others when you're the 
same way yourself," she proclaimed, obliquely.

"I see," understanding perfectly. "I think you're nuts, sis."

Her laugh devolved into a giggle, and she relaxed into a delicious, 
licentious sprawl at my side on the couch. "So do you have some kind of 
game going where you don't ever allow yourself to touch yourself? I 
know some men have hang-ups about that. You going to wait for some kind 
of external relief?"

"Aha, no," I answered, laughing myself, but soaking up her fine shape 
with my eyes. "Nothing like that. But I do tend to deny myself for 
extended periods. It makes the moment more intense, when it comes."

"When it comes?" she asked, with a silly grin.

"Er, right. I believe it's called 'edging.'"

"I've heard the term," she nodded. "I do it too," she volunteered. 
"Maybe it runs in the family."

"Well, that'd be nurture, not nature," I quipped. Standard adoptee 
humor.

"Naturally," she returned. A bit of a pause. "I think Lissa does it 
too," she added.

"Oh?" I asked. This woman was obsessed with her daughter's sexuality, I 
realized, not for the first time. And obsessed with putting said 
daughter's sexuality in front of her brother, too.

"Well obviously I've never talked with her about it," she said - but I, 
as Finn, knew that to be a patent falsehood.

"So... there are clues, or what?" I asked.

Denise just nodded. Perhaps not wanting to try to fabricate how she 
might have detected her daughter's masturbatory habits.

I decided to drop it. Then the phone rang. It was Lissa, wanting to 
know if someone could come collect her. Speak of the devil, and all 
that.

"You're already done with dinner?" asked Denise, and I sensed she was 
having too much fun to want to be interrupted.

The snow had stopped about an hour ago. We decided it was probably 
doable - only about 5-6 inches had accumulated and the main roads were 
already plowed, according to the news. Since Denise had had a few 
glasses of wine, I was designated fetcher, so I threw on my clothes, 
added some additional layers, the whole bit, and got directions to 
Marie's house (and the phone number just in case). Then I went out and 
got the car de-iced and began the careful navigation of the semi-plowed 
side-street.

We hadn't discussed what was going to happen with the nudism thing. But 
I suppose I expected Denise would be dressed when we got back, despite 
her disappointment.

It was only two and half miles, but, driving very carefully and safely 
as possible, it took me 15 minutes to get there. Temperatures were 
dropping fast, however, so the snow was getting crunchy (which 
generally makes it easier to walk and drive on). I knocked on the 
house's door, was met by a cute, blonde teenager who was evidently 
Marie, then met the mom, and after some small talk, Lissa and I 
returned to the car.

Things were quiet for a minute as we drove back home, then Lissa 
detonated a nuclear explosion. "Uncle Jason, can I ask you something?"

I nodded, sensing only the seriousness of her tone - no threat.

"Are you Finn?"

My jaw dropped. I drove carefully to the curb, on autopilot, and put 
the car in park, leaving the engine running for heat. As if in a dream 
(or nightmare?), like slow motion. My heart racing. And realized only 
then that if I had been planning to pretend I had no idea what she was 
talking about, it was too late. An uncle Jason who WASN'T Finn would 
hardly have reacted this way - he'd have said "huh?" and kept on as if 
she'd asked him if he were Peter Cottontail - which is to say, at worst 
wondering if his precocious niece had launched an obscure joke over his 
head. Which meant the game was up, and I'd given it away before I could 
even protest.

I turned to her, and at least the slow motion effect had lighted up a 
little. Her gaze was earnest but still not threatening. But dead 
serious.

"God, Lissa. How..."

"How did I know?" she completed the obvious question. And continued, 
"the way you say things. I remember thinking, like a week ago, that 
Finn had a very funny way of saying things, sometimes. I mean, I liked 
it, but it was unique. And then, I heard you say almost identical 
things, and it got me to thinking."

I nodded. Once again amazed at how smart this girl was. "For example?" 
I prompted, when she was quiet for a moment - but she never broke my 
gaze - it was I who broke it, feeling the awkwardness.

"The first clue was when Finn said 'I know how the horny mind works' or 
something like that, yesterday. Then this morning, you said something 
very similar. That's when I first thought - it honestly never occurred 
to me until right then. But then, after you and me were done talking, 
and I went online, and I was chatting with Finn... he said he was 
'Opinionated and annoying' which is EXACTLY what you said of yourself 
just a little earlier. It was too obvious. And I stood up right then 
and peeked around the corner from the den, and there you were, typing 
into your laptop, right as it showed Finn was typing again in the chat 
window. I realized you must have an internet connection on your laptop 
and were using it."

"Uh. You caught me," I said, sheepishly. "Are you mad?"

Quickly, she answered, "Of course." A little coldly. She folded her 
arms on her chest. And she was still staring me down, and repeatedly 
winning the jousting match between our eyes. No shame there at all - 
the shame was all mine. For the first time in almost 8 hours, I felt my 
erection subside. It was devastating.

"I'm... I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you think of me." I expected 
things were going to get very unpleasant.

Even more coldly, she said, "I think you're a liar and pervert." And 
thrust her jaw forward, determinedly.

"Oh crap," I said, and bent my head into my hands.

Chapter 15. Seismic Changes.

There was a long silence. I didn't look at her, and she was motionless 
in seat next to me, still looking at me, I sensed. The tone of the 
car's idle shifted subtly, as happens with electronic ignitions 
sometimes. I'd truly messed up. I'd exploited a situation for my own 
narrow, perverted reasons, and now I'd ruined my relationship with my 
sister and niece.

But then Lissa spoke, and said, much more softly and warmly, "I also 
still think you're a really cool uncle, and want you to know I've had 
the absolute best time of my life, the last several weeks."

I looked up in amazement. She'd been torturing me a bit on purpose, I 
realized. Punish, then reward. Wow - such a confident young woman. But 
before I could melt with gratefulness at her olive branch, she added, 
"I don't think mom is going to take it so easily, though. She's going 
to be REALLY, REALLY MAD. And don't even think about hiding it from her. 
You might be able to... but I know I won't be able to - not for long."

"What do you think we should do? Do you think we should end things?" 
Since she'd been so kind as to offer me an olive branch, I wanted to 
make sure she felt as much control as possible. It was her right, and 
it was the best way to make sure she could still respect me, I hoped. 

Lissa shook her head, and said thoughtfully, "We should probably at 
least for tonight pretend nothing's changed." And quickly I saw her 
leaping into a co-conspiratorial role with me. "You can make it easier 
by avoiding coming online, as Finn I mean." 

I felt a surge of hope, that all was not lost. I wasn't even worried 
about the sex part. I wanted to rescue my relationship with my sister 
and niece. The crazy sex games would be a wonderful bonus, but if I'd 
had to write them off totally I'd have done so in an instant.

"Do you want me to tell her? Or do you want to tell her?"

Lissa pondered for a while. Shrugged. "I don't know. I have an idea but 
I'm not going to tell you yet. I might think of something better."

"Well, I'll let you run things," I breathed, almost glad to relinquish 
control. "I should warn you though... your mom is, uh, charged up."

Lissa laughed, getting my point. "What happened? Did she get you 
naked?"

Of course she knew her mom's plan - her mom had told her earlier. So I 
just nodded dumbly for a second, then said, "she may want to have us 
all be nudists tonight."

Lissa's laugh turned into a giggle, reminding me of her mother. "The 
plan was to wait until tomorrow for that. So unless she loses 
control.... She won't lose control."

I agreed with that. Definitely, these women both knew about control.

We arrived at the house, and I pulled the car into the driveway and the 
tires made that poofing, squelching sound of crisp, very cold, new snow. 
I turned off the engine, but turned to Lissa before starting to get out. 
"Thank you," I said, almost a whisper.

"For what?" she asked.

"For not hating me," I explained.

"No, I couldn't never hate you, uncle Jason. But you OWE ME big-time." 
She laughed, very softly.

"I'm yours to command," I said, very earnestly.

Her own look got serious in the snowlit darkness of the car, and a bit 
of the ice-queen Lissa I'd seen a little earlier returned: "Yeah. Don't 
you forget it." 

Not scary cold. Just don't-mess-with-me cold. And I had a curious 
inkling that things would be DIFFERENT now. Finn was no longer in 
charge. Finn was dead, and Lissa was replacing him - not Jason.

But then she grinned, stuck out her tongue (as if it were all a joke), 
and sprang out of the car and ran inside before I could even unfold 
myself from the bucket seat.

By the time I got inside and had stripped off the outer layers, Lissa 
had disappeared in her room. I strolled into the living room and found 
Denise meditatively twirling her wine glass, right where I'd left her 
on the couch. She was in her robe, though, and had pulled the blanket 
over herself as well. She grinned up at me, and I realized she was a 
bit tipsy.

"How's it going?" I asked.

"Good," she said. "Lissa's in a sparkling mood."

"Yes. I think she had a good time at her friend's today."

Denise just smiled laconically. She patted the couch beside herself, 
indicating me to join her. I sat. Same positions we'd been in earlier, 
but now more covered. I felt the first twitchings of a return of the 
arousal I'd lost in the car with Lissa during the "great revelation," 
as I was already terming it in my head.

She turned on the tv, and began surfing around. Lissa reappeared, now 
in her long t-shirt nightwear, and planted herself in front of me, 
hands on hips. "Move over, unc," she harassed, indicating the corner 
spot. "You have to sit in the middle and protect me from my mother."

"Protect you?" complained Denise, good-naturedly. "You just want the 
corner spot." 

Lissa made a face at her mom and tugged at my arm when I didn't move 
fast enough. As soon as I'd occupied the middle cushion, she grabbed 
the other throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped herself 
into it, and curled into the corner, bringing both feet onto the couch 
and tucking them under my thigh.

"What's on tv," she asked.

"Maybe we can find a movie," said Denise. "Jase - you know, we never 
had dinner? Wanna make us some popcorn?"

"Sure," I agreed. 

I went into the kitchen, fished around for a while for the popcorn 
popper, unproductively, until Lissa came in to rescue me (er, again?). 
But with an ulterior motive. Once the popcorn popper was loaded and 
humming and boinking along, she whispered to me, confident the whisper 
would be drowned out by the noise: "Remember your rule that we could 
masturbate as long as someone was within 10 feet and all that?"

I nodded, suddenly hyper aware of the youthful flesh leaning lightly 
against me and whispering in my ear.

She continued, "I'm going to convince mom to do a 'practice run' 
tonight of our task for tomorrow."

"Meaning?" I queried, in as soft a whisper as I could manage.

"You know, the simultaneous orgasm. But without the orgasm," she 
giggled soundlessly in my ear. Hot breath. "POP" said the popcorn 
popper, like some vaguely orgasmic fragment of aural punctuation. Geez.

"Um, ok," I mouthed, exaggeratedly.

"And I'm going to make an announcement, at the right moment."

"Ah," I hissed. I didn't dare ask what the announcement was, but based 
on the conversation in the car, I suspected it might be related somehow 
to that. "Well, you're the boss," I whispered in her ear.

She grinned conspiratorially. "So, give me like five minutes to discuss 
with her," she concluded. And raced from the room.

I gave them almost ten. By the time I returned to the living room with 
the huge bowl of popcorn and some sodas for me and Lissa, both women 
were ensconced in their respective corners of the couch, under their 
blankets, and had found a movie on cable they were happy with.

I put down the bowl and sodas, and before I could sit, Denise said, 
"Jason, why don't you go get on something more comfortable - the movie 
is just starting."

I knew when a suggestion was an order, and so retreated to the den. 
Regardless of where things currently stood, I had little doubt they 
would both be most pleased if I kept coverings to a minimum, so, 
bravely (or recklessly?) I stripped completely and returned to the 
living room wrapped in only my kimono. I occupied the middle cushion of 
the couch and opened my can of diet soda.

"Whose going to share some of their blanket?" I asked, just to 
complicate matters.

"Mom's is bigger," announced Lissa immediately.

Denise rearranged herself so that she was less diagonal, and patted the 
cushions closer to her. "Here be a nice little brother and keep me 
warm," she said. A fulfillment of a fantasy, in and of itself - I 
swallowed nervously but moved to comply.

Soon, I was cuddled next to my sister, and we were both under the 
blanket. A cushion under my back, I was lying more or less sideways, 
with my legs stretched out, and my shoulder to Denise, her hip at my 
butt. Very cozy indeed. 

Then, to complicate things further, Lissa said, "here, you can put your 
feet on my lap." So I did.

And now, I thought to myself insanely, both women proposed to 
masturbate? And pretend I didn't know what was going on? How in the 
world was I ever going find out what the movie was about?

I felt like I was going to explode, I was so sensitive to the movements 
behind me and at my feet. I felt like I'd grown new, seismographic 
nerve endings just for the purpose of detecting the faintest 
masturbatory movements in my two companions.

About ten minutes passed before I was certain they'd begun. Denise 
shifted slightly, but patted my head and told me I was fine, no need to 
move, then raised her left leg, the one closest to me, up so the foot 
was on the couch and the knee was tenting the blanket in her lap. The 
knee was bare, I could feel it, which meant she'd allowed her robe to 
open. She pressed the knee into my ribs, and rested her left hand on my 
shoulder. Her right hand... I'm guessing it was under the blanket - I 
couldn't verify that from my angle.

Meanwhile, Lissa seemed to have taken the cue from her mother. My feet 
were on her lap, on top of the blanket. "Are your feet cold?" she asked. 
And without waiting for an answer, she rearranged herself so that my 
feet were on her lap UNDER the blanket. 

Now she was sitting in a modified indian style, both knees bent, but 
angled the same direction, like kneeling but slumped sideways. My feet 
rested across her thighs, and, usefully, provided a tent under which 
any telltale hand movements couldn't be seen. Her long t-shirt had 
ridden up at least enough that my calves and ankles were resting on her 
bare thighs, and, a few casual glances suggested she'd actually hiked 
it up to her waist, under the blanket. I felt the muscles in her thighs 
tense and relax a few times, but there was no rhythm... more she was 
just settling into a position. She slumped back further, and gazed 
absently at the screen. I nearly jumped out of my kimono (or, at least 
part of me did) when Lissa wrapped her left hand casually over my ankle, 
and I saw that the right was neatly tucked under the blanket, lapward.

None of us were going to be able to say what movie it was we'd watched, 
come morning. I was certain of that much.

I began to contemplate doing something truly audacious... I had the 
cover of the blanket, too, after all. I let a hand slip beneath the 
blanket, and gradually pulled the kimono open at the waist, until Mr 
Happy boinged free. The blanket was poofy, but I decided I needed a 
little more cover, so at the risk of calling attention to myself, I 
brought the right leg (the one that Lissa hadn't wrapped her hand over) 
back and folded it up slightly, and tucked the toes under her warm calf. 
Lissa looked over at me inquisitively. "Comfy?"

"I'm fine," I said.

She made a gentle stroking motion on my ankle. She was enjoying our 
secret, I thought. A little affair, almost, while this bit of knowledge 
existed between us that no one else knew. I saw her bite her lower lip, 
and felt a more rhythmic tighten-release-tighten begin in the thigh 
under my ankle. She knew that I knew, and that was probably adding yet 
another layer to the excitement.

At the same moment, Denise gripped my shoulder a little tighter, and 
the pressure of her knee in my ribs increased, just slightly. 

I allowed my own fingertip to trace the length of my turgid unit, base 
to glans-edge. And down again. I took a long, deep breath, and it was 
ragged, but I kept trying hard to reveal nothing. I began to feel 
incredibly hot. Lissa's legs at my feet, and Denise's knee and hip at 
my side, felt much hotter.

I felt Denise squirm a bit, and although I knew what was going on, I 
couldn't resist asking, "are you sure I'm not squishing you?"

"I'm fine, bro." Pause. I felt her hand move from my shoulder, across 
the nape of my neck, and strokingly to my far shoulder, prodding me to 
lean forward slightly, at which she slipped her arm down my back to the 
cushion I had squashed under there. This put her hand at my left waist, 
however - where she discovered by feel the wrist of the hand that I'd 
just begun using to tease myself. Did she know what I was doing? She 
could easily have guessed, but I suspected she only knew that I was 
undoubtedly aroused and she knew putting a hand there, mere inches from 
my groin, was a great way to drive me nuts.

I didn't dare move my hand, with hers resting directly below it. 
Because of the angle, it was unlikely she could actually get a "feel" 
if she'd tried for it, but I could think of no way to continue my 
explorations without her hand catching what I was up to. So instead, I 
brought my hand back slightly, and folded her hand into mine, and I 
felt like I was in junior high again, secretly holding hands with a 
girl I was too shy to acknowledge affection for overtly.

So. Nobody was eating the popcorn.

I began to feel a rhythm in Denise's wigglings, too. She was definitely 
going at it, I decided. Then there was a very quiet sort of grunt or 
moan, "oof" and I felt her tense a bit, then relax, and no more motion. 
That'd been close, I surmised. I saw Lissa look over at us - I was to 
some extent hiding a direct view of her mom, though, so she ended up 
meeting my eyes instead. And bless her, she winked. Just in case I had 
any doubt whatsoever as to what was going on. What a flirt. She still 
had her lower lip gripped with her teeth, tellingly, and she hardly 
skipped a beat, as far as the thigh contractions I just barely could 
sense were concerned.

I spent a second speculating was to whether a truly uninformed Jason 
would have been able to deduce what was going on. I suspected, in light 
of the earlier conversations with both Lissa and Denise, that he 
probably could have figured it out. I had just decided that an 
"innocent" Jason would probably have been more likely, rather than less, 
to engage in his own furtive self-fondlings, when Denise did a little 
stretch, unexpectedly squirmed and said, "I think we need to rearrange 
- I'm feeling squished now, and I need to pee."

Probably, that was true and had no subtext. But it threw Lissa and I 
both into a flurry of activity, as we tried to re-cover our respective 
hidden adventurings, and finally I managed to stand with kimono re-
wrapping as Denise lowered her leg and drew her own robe closed, and 
Lissa disentangled from my legs and worked her t-shirt back down, 
without letting her own blanket fall off. All, without any of us 
blatantly revealing our respective engorged genitalia. I really 
shouldn't use that phrase, as it makes us sound like rutting baboons - 
but it's really what ran through my head at the moment: rutting baboons. 
Very sneaky, exquisitely horny but somewhat inhibited baboons.

Denise ran to use the bathroom.

Lissa immediately motioned me over, and leaned to whisper to me. "You 
sit in the corner. I have an idea." Always, an idea. Charming young 
woman.

So I positioned myself in the corner, and Denise returned. Lissa told 
her mom to sit up against me, the way I'd been against her before, more 
or less - but we were more side-to-side. I enfolded my left arm around 
my sister's shoulders, and the size differential made for a much 
cuddlier arrangement than before. I had both feet on the coffee table, 
and Denise had her right leg alongside mine, and her left tucked up 
under her. Then Lissa delivered her coup-de-grace: she sprawled herself 
across both our laps and rested her head on a pillow on the couch's 
armrest to my right. Then, she and Denise together pulled the fluffy 
blanket over the whole arrangement and tucked all of us in.

Which was fine, except that now I had Lissa's ribcage pinioning my cock 
to my abdomen. Awkward.

"Uh, I'm not sure this is going to work," I finally managed. It wasn't 
particularly comfortable for me in other ways, either, and I can't 
imagine Lissa was very comfortable.

She turned her head and looked up at Denise and me. "You're right. This 
isn't as comfortable as I'd hoped. You're kind of bumpy, uncle Jason."

Well, she needn't have come out and said THAT, I thought. But Denise 
just laughed, though I'm certain she caught the subtext.

So, to make light, I jokingly said, "beware of bumpy uncles." Which 
caused both women to laugh hysterically for a moment.

Then Lissa sat up on the edge of the couch at her mother's knee, and 
contemplated the arrangement. Then she said, "Here, unc, spread your 
legs a little."

Carefully, holding the kimono in place, I did - though I imagine both 
of them could have seen the shifty, cone-hatted cylinder wobbling under 
the thin cloth, if they'd chosen to stare. But they didn't. And quickly, 
Lissa planted her butt in my lap, knees up and together across my left 
thigh and her mom's right, and leaned back against me cozily, nestled 
in the fold of my right arm. And after that, with almost no delay, the 
fluffy blanket returned to cover any potentially obscene movements 
(which I knew loomed imminent) with its amorphous plaid anonymity.

Much better. Except now it was my ballsack against Lissa's hipbone. 
Through only two thin layers of cloth. Er... only one: I felt Lissa 
carefully raising her t-shirt to her waist. Of course, she didn't have 
to worry about me knowing what she was up to - we were in cahoots, now. 
She only needed to preserve some semblance of subtlety, sufficient to 
fool her mom. Not that I expect Denise was much fooled - or maybe she 
was too buzzed on wine and horniness to care. She grinned up at me 
expectantly, and stated, "this is cozy."

"Mm Hm," I agreed. And was aware that Denise's barely perceptible 
rhythmic movements had already resumed. Feeling mischievous, I decided 
to return her earlier favor, and sneakily dropped my hand from where it 
draped over her shoulder to behind her waist, so that it emerged at her 
left hip. Where I found her left forearm and casually, gently gripped 
it, knowing where it was deployed.

Meanwhile, I felt Lissa working both her arms down by her sides. On the 
outer arm, her right, this was unproblematic. But her left side was 
arranged such that... urgh. The hand crawled across the beast that 
lurked under the kimonocloth, and, well, naturally, paused. Hmm, what's 
this? I imagined the left hand wondering, full of curiosity.

I felt Lissa carefully shift her weight, slightly, tilting outward to 
allow more freedom of movement for the constrained left arm. And, given 
how the topography of relationships had radically shifted in the last 
hours, I was utterly prevented from any kind of protestation. And she 
knew it - there was confidence and curiosity behind her superficially 
tentative touchings.

Her hand felt out the contours of what I was certain was her first 
penis. Contrary to all my fantasizing and anticipation up to that point, 
rather than an initial visual encounter, she was enjoying a tactile one 
instead. 

Denise finally managed to get her other hand loose from where it 
tangled in the blanket and had slipped in under, to take up where I had 
immobilized her other with my strategic touch. The faint rhythms 
resumed.

Lissa's teeth were once again nibbling her lower lip - something I was 
learning was her secret sign of special sensations sent up from below. 
But her left hand had found the outer edge of my kimono, and was 
persistently dragging it open. Open to the other edge, that it 
overlapped, so, regripping and reversing direction, she dragged this 
edge the other way, navigating complex sub-blanket geographies with 
great precision. Within less than a minute, she had freed Willy.

Said willy surged with self-importance, as the questing girl-hand made 
its first creeping discoveries, flesh to flesh. But as exciting as it 
was for willy and me, I realized it is much more so for dear Lissa: her 
face began to contort, and I saw a fine sheen of sweat appear on her 
lovely brow at my shoulder, and on her upper lip, and her rhythm 
accelerated dangerously. The darling was going to lose control.

Denise may not have known the specific mechanicals of what was going on, 
but she too apparently detected her daughter's almost-thereness, as she 
raised the hand that I was touching to her daughter's knee - getting 
her attention, I realized, to keep her from slipping OVER.

Lissa blinked and stopped all movements. The most subtle of nods toward 
Denise, who was looking at her face. I pretended to be seeing the tv. 
Good recovery, loves.

Lissa removed her left hand from its dalliances in darkness, and put it 
back on top of the blanket. But her right stayed where it was, I 
presumed between her thighs, and, having made no move to replace the 
kimono over my pulsing rod, instead she leaned sideways toward it, till 
I swear her left breast was mashed against its leaping, leaking tip. I 
cuddled my right arm more cozily around her, to let her know I liked 
her, too.

Then Lissa did something with her feet... she folded her outer, right 
leg up till it was in her mom's lap, and then tilted it a bit. I saw my 
sister scrunch her forehead in puzzlement and brief annoyance - the 
little minx was sticking her toes where they most manifestly didn't 
belong, and Denise was loath to complain. My hand was right at Denise's 
hip, but I only had the vaguest inkling of what, precisely was going on. 
Only a general sort of seismic reading.

Denise quickly gave up any attempt to dislodge her uninvited guest, and 
apparently decided what the hell. Once again the rhythms restarted. 
Lissa's teeth had released her lower lip, and she was apparently giving 
herself a rest, though I think I felt her shiver with delight. She 
seemed intent on her mom. Her mom, my sister, who was accelerating 
rapidly. Perhaps it was the toes, helping? I couldn't tell. Maybe just 
their mere proximity, so exciting.

Wanting to help in the least little way, I gently stroked Denise's hip 
and thigh with my hand. She leaned into me harder. How could she 
imagine I didn't know what was going on? We were all enacting the most 
ridiculous of pantomimes, at this point. But it seemed so fabulously, 
wonderfully, deliciously RIGHT. So what if it was all a bunch of self-
delusions and sneaky games?

Denise was very close - her breathing was hard. And Lissa chose to make 
her announcement: "Mom?" she began.

Denise looked over, and slowed her touching to a crawl - at least the 
rhythms suggested as much. "Hmm?""

"I think I should tell you something," Lissa said. Now Denise looked 
just a might worried, through the erotic haze clouding her regal face. 
This wasn't in the script. Her daughter continued, "Uncle Jason and I 
had a long conversation when he drove me home from Marie's."

"Um, and?" asked Denise, downbelow movements fully stopped, and sitting 
up slightly, but the near-orgasmic congestion still shadowed her 
slightly parted lips and heavily lidded eyes. I realized Lissa had been 
very clever to choose to make her announcement at a moment when her mom 
was well-disposed and, well - admit it - weak. Though I still had no 
idea what, exactly, she'd decided to announce. The whole deal? Some 
part of it? How would that work? 

I found out immediately, as Lissa was done with her preamble. "I told 
him about Finn."

Chapter 16. What's Right?

"What!" asked Denise in alarm, momentarily terrified, then angry, then 
just deeply worried, and looking from me to Lissa and back again. 
"You... know about Finn?"

"It's ok," I threw in, reassuringly. Still not sure what Lissa planned 
to say, but impressed with the "partial truth" she'd engineered to ease 
the impact of the eventual revelation.

"But... why?" asked Denise.

"There's more, mom." I realized Lissa had just, spontaneously, decided 
to tell the rest of the story. Lying to parents is always so difficult, 
isn't it?

Denise's face grew puzzled, again. 

Lissa took a shuddering breath, and pushed up from her reclining 
position, somewhat. My cock missed the gentle leaning of her hot flesh, 
where it'd been pressing against me. 

Finally, she said, "He IS Finn. Finn and uncle Jason are the same 
person."

"Oh crap," muttered Denise, under her breath. Then, as it sunk in, she 
suddenly leaped up and said, loudly (but not quite yelling), "you 
fucking bastard."

Her comment lost a bit of impact as she realized, self-consciously, 
that her robe was hanging open.

Lissa got up too, then, but carefully enough to ensure the blanket in 
my lap continued to conceal the kimono she'd worked open. She looked 
toward me in a desperate appeal.

Well, she'd predicted it would go badly. I still think, in retrospect, 
it might have gone much worse if one or the other of us had broken it 
to her at any other time than in the moments before she was about to 
cum. In that respect, Lissa had chosen very wisely.

Because, already, Denise was calming down. She drew her robe around 
herself, and slumped to the couch, but on the far end. 

"Ok, Jase. I need an explanation."

I tried to compose myself. Lissa started to leave the room - is it that 
when grownups talk serious, teenagers instinctively hide? But Denise 
spoke firmly, "Where are you going? You're as much as part of this as 
Jason or I. I've let you be an adult in this, now act like one."

Lissa looked sheepish and said, "I was just... I need to pee."

Denise stared at her for a moment, as if not comprehending. "Oh, go 
ahead. Sorry."

When she left the room, I decided to give Lissa some credit: "she 
figured it out, Denise. She was like a detective."

"I can see it now, too. But I was too preoccupied, or too horny, to 
think it through." She forced a self-conscious grin.

There was some quiet. "I'll tell everything, as soon as Lissa gets 
back," I said, as I sensed Denise getting impatient.

When Lissa returned, she very wisely and strategically placed herself 
on the couch between us. She flashed me a glance as if to say, good 
freakin luck, and crossed her arms over her chest.

But I could see, already, that this wasn't the end of the world. Denise 
was clearly angry about the deception, but she had also spent a major 
part of the weekend teasing her brother enthusiastically, with his 
cooperation, and Finn may have been an impetus but he wasn't, in the 
end, a root cause. She was smart enough to realize that Finn had only 
been an enabler for deeply harbored desires of her very own. And 
Jason's, I conceded to myself.

All this, we exchanged in wordless glances, so that by the time I began 
the story of how Finn came to exist, how I'd become trapped by my own 
deception, she was simply nodding and listening.

Finally, I'd brought the two of them up to the present. Denise pursed 
her lips thoughtfully, and said, "Well, so... what are we going to do?"

"I feel I deserve no say in the matter," I stated, categorically.

Denise nodded, agreeing. But she turned to Lissa, "What do you think?"

Lissa was clearly a bit cowed by her mother's seriousness, but she 
stood her ground. "When me and uncle Jason talked about it earlier, I 
told him I was mad but that I still thought he was cool. I also told 
him that the last two weeks have been the best in my life. And that's 
true."

Denise looked surprised. Which part surprised her? Or was it some 
thought of her own? "So what did you tell him you wanted to do?"

Lissa shrugged, and looked from her mom to me, briefly. "I didn't 
really say. I said I wanted to go on at least until we could tell you. 
And I said we had to tell you. Though it wasn't my plan, originally, to 
tell you everything right away like this." At this point, Lissa got a 
little teary-eyed, almost.

Denise cradled her daughter gently. "You broke it to me very well. But 
I hope it wasn't Jason who made you tell me," she added.

"Oh no, no it wasn't," she defended. "He didn't know what I was going 
to do. He told me I was in charge." She snuffled and giggled a little, 
all at once.

"That's very wise of him," said Denise, winking at me over her 
daughter's head. Winking, despite everything. For just a second, I had 
this weird notion that Denise really had known, all along, and was just 
playing this out for Lissa's benefit. But I dismissed the notion as 
highly implausible.

But oh, things were going to be alright, I sighed with relief, 
internally.

Finally, Lissa calmed a little and sat back up. "What are you going to 
do, mom?"

Denise looked pensive, and was quiet for a bit. Looked from her 
daughter to me and back again. "Actually, hun, I think maybe Jason had 
it exactly right. You're in charge, now."

Lissa's eyes got a little big, and stared at her mom. "Aren't you 
dodging responsibility, mom?"

Oh, my. I hadn't expected that. But it had a shade of truth to it. I 
could tell that it stung Denise a little bit. After a long pause, she 
said, "I'm not trying to dodge responsibility. I want you to feel that 
you control the situation. If you want to pass the buck back to me, 
I'll take it gladly, at any point and on any matter you choose - any 
single situation or the whole thing, doesn't matter."

Lissa pondered this a bit, and suddenly grinned broadly. And, echoing 
almost precisely the prescient thought I'd had only hours before, she 
exclaimed, "I can be Finn, from now on."

Denise seemed suddenly alarmed at the idea, when Lissa put it in those 
terms. But she visibly forced herself to relax, and smiled 
encouragingly. "If you want," she said.

I could see the temptations and curiosities and desires warring, now, 
for Lissa's attention. Her lower lip quivered a bit, as she nibbled at 
it with her teeth.

"Well," she finally drawled, aware we both had our full attention on 
her. "For now, we stick with the program."

Denise grinned broadly, almost too pleased. I suppose I did, too.

"Hmm. For tomorrow, you perverts. For tonight, I'm tired, and I'm going 
to bed." With that, and without further ado, she went into the bathroom 
to brush her teeth.

Denise and I exchanged glances, and we both laughed, and settled back 
on the couch. She moved over closer to me, and pulled my arm over her 
shoulder.

"Pervert," she whispered.

"Pervert," I muttered back. And added, "this is going to be 
interesting."

When Lissa emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, and saw us 
cuddled on the couch, she strolled over purposefully. "And no messin 
around," she commanded, imperiously. "And no getting naked. Or 
masturbating." And she grinned, and traipsed out.

"Indeed," agreed my sister, to my earlier statement.

Forgiveness was the sweetest tasting thing in the world, in that moment.

Long quiet time. The tv had got shut off, at some point. Denise finally 
stretched, and yawned, but didn't get up from where she snuggled beside 
me. She looked up and put a serious look on her face. "Jason?"

"Yes?"

"Promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Never, ever lie to me again. No matter what."

"I promise." The promise came easily. And strangely, I felt at a very 
deep level that I would keep it, although I intuited difficulties ahead, 
because of it.

"And never lie to my daughter. And don't break her heart."

"That's more than one thing, now," I joked. 

But her expression remained dead serious, "no, not really. It's just 
one big thing."

"You're right," I agreed, with no hesitation. "I promise. I promise 
never to lie to you or your daughter."

"What about the part about breaking hearts?" she asked, carefully.

"Um. The problem is... hearts sometimes break on their own. I promise 
never to do something intentionally to break her heart, or yours either, 
Denise."

"That's fair enough. And honest. A good start." A very sweet smile then, 
and a dreamy look in her eyes.

Another quiet time, and finally she got up and padded away to her room. 
Since she'd not said goodnight, I assumed it was to use the bathroom or 
something. I decided to go ahead and pee and clean up too, so I went 
into the hall bathroom. A half an hour before, peeing would have been a 
radically difficult operation - peeing with a severe erection always is. 
But in the wake of the last half hour's events, I'd wilted.

As I came out, I saw Denise waiting for me, but before I could make it 
back to the couch, Lissa called out to me from her room, "Uncle Jason? 
Is that you?"

I exchanged a quizzical glance with Denise, and, daringly, I gave her a 
wink. Then I turned down the hall out her sight, and poked my head in 
Lissa's door. "What's up?"

"Get in here," she said, now a much lower voice, close to a whisper. " 
I moved to the side of her bed, and knelt down. Her room was pretty 
dark, the only light coming from the hall. I could just make out the 
brightness of her eyes, and her teeth as she spoke, surrounded by 
gently seething halo of pitch-dark, wild, curly hair, cradled on her 
pillow. I waited for her to speak again.

"So are you and mom getting along?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "Forgiveness is sweet."

She chuckled. "I can't sleep," she explained.

"Ok," I said.

"NOT ok," she corrected, playfully. "I'm tired. But I'm too horny."

"I see," I said. "That can be a problem."

Some silence, but not uncomfortable. Finally, "I'm sorry... about 
earlier," she said.

"Sorry?" I was genuinely confused. "About what?"

"Uh... groping you."

"You don't have to apologize, darling. If anything, I should 
apologize."

I saw her blinking, liquid eyes in the near darkness. "Well, I just 
mean, I shouldn't have done that."

"You should only do what you're comfortable doing, Lissa," I said, 
firmly. "If you were ok with it, then it's ok you did it. I certainly 
wasn't offended by it. But you shouldn't feel guilty about anything."

Another pause, then she said, nervously, "I don't think it's guilt... I 
just think it was, like, going too far."

"Ah. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable," I said.

"I just kinda got carried away," she explained.

"Sometimes, when we're really horny, we don't think very clearly. 
That's why it can be important to have someone you trust around to help 
you avoid making mistakes. And if I didn't stop you from doing that, 
and I should have, I'm very sorry."

"I'm starting to understand why Finn says good sex is about rules."

I didn't recall saying that, as Finn, but I supposed he might have. 
"Two, very different, kinds of rules - rules for keeping and rules for 
breaking," I elaborated, spontaneously.

"That's too deep for me," complained Lissa. "I'll have to think about 
it." Then she paused for a short moment, and continued, "About the... 
me touching you, there?"

"What?"

"I think it was too soon."

"Ok," I answered, simply. Letting her guide the conversation.

She suddenly began to spill, in a kind of stream-of-consciousness, what 
was running through her mind. It was very erotic, but I was more 
affected by the level of trust implied in her sharing it with me, with 
her fears and insecurities included. 

"I touched it and all that I could imagine in my mind was that all I 
had to do was like get on my knees and move two feet and you would be, 
like, fucking me. It was so exciting and weird and intense all at once. 
And then I was thinking you might lose control and suddenly go wild and 
roll on top of me and rape me because of the way I was teasing you, 
like in one of those creepy stories. And I kept thinking this is my 
uncle, and my mom is right there. And then at the same time thinking, 
so this is a penis, and how hot and hard and soft it is, and how I 
could feel it like pumping to your heartbeat or something. And it was 
very exciting but I was really scared..."

She trailed off to silence. I was stunned by the amount revealed in 
this soliloquy, so I only said, "I'm sorry you were scared."

"It's ok it's my own fault I did something I wasn't planning to. I was 
just... to explain why I think it's too soon."

"I understand. Do we need to stop the game for a while?" I offered. I 
realized Denise was standing at the door, listening, but I avoided 
turning back to look toward her in the darkness.

"I really don't want to," she said, with a sigh.

"Well, as you quoted Finn, before, it's about rules. If we keep going, 
you're the Finn. You make the rules."

I could just make out her nodding head. "Ok. For now, can we have a 
rule, no touching? Obviously, I was the one who broke the rule... but, 
so, we need the rule, so I can follow it." 

"I'll avoid criticizing your logic, darling. I know you're tired," I 
joked.

She giggled. "I like it when you call me darling."

"Shall we make that another rule, darling? That I always call you 
that?"

"Definitely."

"Do you want no touching at all? Or do you mean no sexual touching?" I 
returned to the subject she'd raised.

"Oh... um, no SEXUAL touching. Definitely. I'd hate if I couldn't get a 
hug now and then. And I KNOW mom would hate it." I saw her head turn 
toward her doorway, indicating she knew her mom stood there listening.

"So the rule applies between all three of us?"

"Of course, silly. From now on, all Finn rules have to apply equally to 
everyone playing. That's OBVIOUS."

"Yes, that's logical," I said. I noted that "Finn" was now an adjective, 
too. How long before we made him into a verb? "So it's settled. No 
touching rule. Any other rules?"

"I'll think about it, and we can have a meeting in the morning."

"A meeting?" I laughed. "Very official."

She laughed, and was quiet again, but reached out and grasped my hand. 
Very softly, she said, "I wish you weren't my uncle."

The tenderness of her touch and tone of her voice belied the message - 
I was confused. "Huh?" I asked, eloquently.

"Well... if you weren't my uncle, you could marry mom, and be my dad."

"Ohh." I squeezed her hand. "I'm not sure dads are supposed to have the, 
er, sort of relationship you and I have, darling."

"Why not? And besides... neither are uncles," she giggled. "Especially 
not perverted, bumpy uncles."

"I love you too, darling," I returned, knowing she was just pulling my 
chain. I raised her palm to my lips and kissed it tenderly - not 
lustfully.

"Mmm. Goodnight, Jason."

"Goodnight, Lissa." 

Chapter 17. Arising Aroused.

Before I went to bed that Saturday night after Thanksgiving, I should 
record one other small event.

After leaving Lissa's room, I met Denise at the door. We'd only made it 
a few steps down the hall when she grabbed me and kissed me square on 
the lips. Hard. Passionately. Deliberately in view of her daughter's 
partially open door, so that Lissa called out, "hey, no messin around! 
Don't make me come out there and supervise!"

Denise chuckled throatily, broke the kiss. Then she strolled, with the 
most come-hither walk I'd ever seen, into the living room. I followed, 
like a lemming on cruise-control.

We sat and stared at each other for a long while. Finally, unable to 
bear the tension, I asked, "what was that about?"

"Just because you're the best brother ever," she finally grinned at me. 
And then, she got up and went to bed.

Stunned by the day's events, I too went to bed. Because of my almost 
unbearable state of arousal, I knew that to even touch myself would be 
to head down a path of no return, so I exercised supreme self-control 
and lay still, on my back, trying to think of anything else, until I 
finally got sleepy and fell asleep.

-*-

In the morning, I awoke to the sound of Lissa's voice, as I had been on 
Friday morning. Looking blearily at the clock, I saw it was about 7:30 
- later than I normally got up with an alarm clock, but earlier than I 
tended to wake up when left to my own devices.

"Time to get up, uncle Jason," she announced. I groaned, and blinked at 
her.

Fortunately, Lissa was bearing a cup of steaming coffee. This caused me 
to forgive her, almost immediately. That, and the fact she was naked. I 
sat up in surprise.

She laughed at my evident discomfiture. "Today is nudism day," she 
explained. "That's the first announcement of the day. We'll have a 
little meeting in the living room, when you're ready. Mom is 
showering."

"Well, I can't say I didn't see this coming," I finally mumbled.

The half-erection I'd hardly been aware of, upon first waking to her 
voice, had already grown to full mast, as she sat in the spinny office 
chair and spun around, exhibiting far too much energy for such an early 
hour. I realized that a) she knew I slept naked, based on Friday 
morning's experience, and b) she wasn't planning on leaving the room 
until I got up. Despite these realizations, I couldn't bring myself to 
face the music right away. I sat in the bed and sipped my coffee (oh, 
such good coffee Denise always had on hand!).

I admired my niece in profile: the narrow nose, wide bright eyes that 
just barely evidenced her Vietnamese heritage, the full, slightly 
opened lips that showed a bit of her African American side, the long, 
tumbling mop of thick black hair that was uniquely hers. And now, for 
the first time, I saw her breasts without any covering - really nothing 
more that well-shaped cones, capped by dark areolas and pencil-eraser-
sized nipples. She thrust out her chest, slightly, as she became aware 
of my at-last focused attention on her, and stopped the spinning in the 
chair. Turned to meet my gaze, coy, sideways over her left shoulder. 
Like some kind of model, almost.

I couldn't help but grin, despite myself. 

"Quit staring and get up," she said, breaking into a grin back at me. 
"I can see you're awake, now."

"This is very good coffee," I observed, changing the subject. "Thanks 
for bringing it." Taking another sip.

"C'mon, Jason," she said. "I told mom I'd have you up before she got 
out." 

Then she paused and turned more toward me, so that I had my first good, 
stationary, look at the modest tuft of dark fuzz at her groin, though 
her legs were together, so nothing more showed, really. She seemed to 
be studying me. Then she said, more seriously, "you're actually 
embarrassed to get up in front of me, aren't you?"

I nodded. 

"Is it 'cause you're... like, erected?"

I laughed at her phraseology, but nodded again.

She made a funny face, then - I couldn't read it. Evidently, she 
decided to show me some mercy. She stood, and rapidly moved to the door, 
saying, "Well come out when you're ready. But don't take too long, ok?" 
I watched her pert little behind disappear - she didn't shut the door.

I sighed, and realized that procrastinating was going to do me no good. 
Nor was it likely I'd be able to get my cock to behave in any 
reasonable time frame, at least without ending it's enforced chastity - 
and I suspected, given the current situation, that that might not even 
really cause it to relax much, except for the very short term. Besides, 
the prolonged arousal was delicious, I admitted even through my self-
consciousness.

So I stood from the bed, narcissistically studied myself for a moment, 
imagining the two women's gaze upon what I was seeing, and finally 
strolled out as casually as I could, into the living room.

Lissa was lounging on the recliner where I typically made my spot, 
reading the paper. Legs tucked up under her, quite modest given 
position and newspaper, despite her nakedness. She looked up with her 
own studied casualness, but I saw her eyes widen involuntarily, 
nevertheless.

Not that I sport anything obscenely proportioned - far from it. It's 
quite average length, about six inches, perhaps a bit thicker than 
average but not by much. But it was her first "live" penis, I knew, and 
she couldn't hide her fascination, as much as she tried to feign 
disinterest. Now that the moment had arrived, I found myself less 
embarrassed and more simply excited by the whole situation.

I let her stare, briefly, then went into the kitchen to refill my 
coffee cup. 

As I returned to the living room, Denise emerged from her room wrapped 
in her robe, with damp, towel-dried hair. "I see you're up," she 
observed, her glance underscoring the double-entendre. She threw off 
her robe and sat down in "her" corner of the couch, and I, feeling a 
bit self-conscious again, took the other corner.

"Well, we're all here," said Denise, dragging Lissa's attention away 
from the funnies, which she was studiously reading, pointedly ignoring 
the naked adults in the room.

I had decided not to try to hide my condition as I sat - it seemed 
pointless with respect to the longer term. So both Denise's and Lissa's 
eyes fluttered periodically to my lap, inquisitively. Denise showed 
nothing but a sort of wry amusement at the situation, but Lissa was 
clearly both nervous and fascinated.

Denise let the tension hang for a few moments, then cleared her throat 
and asked Lissa what meeting was for. "I assume you have rules and 
tasks for the day, like Finn did?" she concluded.

Lissa broke her stare from my lap awkwardly, and sat up a little in her 
chair, trying to appear more serious. Lowered the paper to her side, 
and thrust her chest out slightly, unconsciously, as she caught my gaze 
fixed there.

"Ah yes." She made a funny face, and picked up and unfolded a piece of 
paper she'd apparently written on. I felt like I was back at a high 
school student council meeting, for a minute. "First rule, you already 
know, today is nudism day. No clothes while at home." She looked around, 
as if expecting objections, but of course Denise and I had none. 

"Second, the task Finn gave us... I mean, uncle Jason..." she glanced 
my way, and back to her mom, "...from before - the simultaneous orgasm, 
will be changed slightly." She cleared her throat. "One change is that 
it will not be allowed until after 6 pm. The other change is that it 
has to be all 3." She was speaking a little rapidly, reading from her 
notes, I guess. "Just like before, no orgasms before then. 

"But, I also added some more tasks. Based on that other day - was it 
Tuesday? - we each have to masturbate for at least 5 minutes every 
hour." She looked around as if seeking approval, but Denise and I just 
sat there, slightly stunned I suppose. 

So she continued, "There's another catch though. You don't decide when 
or where you have to do it. Each hour one of the other of us has to 
tell you to. We take turns. I've made a little schedule." She turned 
her paper around and showed the schedule. It was entirely logical. Each 
hour, each of us was to be told when and where by one of the others, in 
simple alternation. Thus, for 8-9 AM, Denise was to be told by Jason, 
Jason by Lissa, and Lissa by Denise. Next hour, 9-10, Denise by Lissa, 
Lissa by Jason, Jason by Denise. And so on.

It seemed way too complicated. But also very much in the spirit of 
Finn's tasks, and profoundly exciting. I noticed that Denise 
involuntarily looked at the clock, and then at me. Ten minutes after 8. 

"There aren't any limitations?" Denise asked.

Lissa shook her head. "Just the no touching rule Jason and I talked 
about last night." We both knew Denise had overheard our conversation, 
the night before. "The only other thing is, I guess, we can't be doing 
it all at once, probably. That's for later," she added, as a wry 
afterthought.

"So based on that schedule, I could tell you to do it right now? Right 
here?" Denise asked, clearly somewhat amazed by how audacious the 
"task" set up by her daughter appeared to be. I think she expected, or 
hoped, that Lissa would put some additional rule or qualification, but 
instead, Lissa just nodded a little meekly, as if perhaps surprised at 
her mother's aggressiveness and the unintended consequences of her 
proposal, but unwilling to back down for all that.

The both turned and glanced at me, almost as if seeking some kind of 
approval from the erstwhile Finn. But I just gave my own lame little 
shrug, too wrapped up in my own self-consciousness at the moment to be 
terribly concerned with this battle of wills between the two of them. 

Finally, however, Lissa chickened, and said, "well... maybe it should 
be a rule it shouldn't be right, uh, like in direct sight of the 
others?"

I think Denise was actually kind of glad her daughter had placed the 
additional qualification. I certainly had a panicked moment of feeling 
that things were moving far too rapidly, and out of control. So Denise 
nodded her head, but before she could even say anything, Lissa blurted 
out, "so, since it's after eight, and I get to tell Jason," she turned 
my way, a little haughtily but also with a mischievous grin, "you have 
to do it right now. In the den. Five minutes."

All of us exchanged alarmed glances, then. I don't think Lissa's look 
was any less alarmed, despite having originated the situation. 

Denise prodded, "well, go on. You started this whole thing." Was that a 
guilt trip? No... she was looking quite pleased, still, on top of the 
amazement at the current development. "Serves you right," she added.

I stood and moved to the door of the den, hyperaware of both women's 
gaze fixed on my groin and the protruding evidence of my arousal. I 
went into the den, but when I started to shut the door, feeling like a 
schoolboy playing truth or dare, Denise said, "no need to shut the door 
- we won't look."

I couldn't believe this was happening. Just around the edge of the 
doorjamb, my sister and niece were sitting, naked. And they expected me 
to spend five minutes in here, masturbating.

Chapter 18. Interruption.

Perhaps it was the intensity of the situation, perhaps it was a moment 
of doubt about whether this was entirely the right thing to be 
happening, but I actually realized my erection had dipped to half-mast. 
Once I was out of sight, around the corner of the door jamb, I gazed 
down at myself, disconcerted by this display of half-heartedness.

I began stroking, gently, toying with my cock and enjoying the hotness 
of its semi-erect smooth shape. Quickly, I became absorbed in the 
sensations, as I replayed the events of the last several days in my 
mind. I could feel the cum building up in me, and knew I had to slow 
down. The half-erection had a very short half-life, apparently.

I looked at the clock on the wall, and it'd only been three minutes. I 
slowed but didn't stop, and concentrated on just the sensations, now 
trying to chase out the images of my naked sister and niece, for they 
were overwhelmingly TOO arousing. Finally, my time was up, and I was 
able to stop.

I emerged back into the living room, after my five minutes, largely 
having overcome my self-consciousness. The fantasy and reality of the 
situation, the incredible arousal I was experiencing and the horny 
edginess I had just massaged into myself all combined to make me more 
audacious and less concerned with restraint and appearances.

I walked back out boldly, preceded by my rigid member with is tiny grin 
of sticky precum, and resumed my seat on the couch.

I swear, Lissa's eyes seemed to bug out a little as she stared 
unabashedly at my lap. Denise's expression was less shocked looking, 
but it was a gaze of lust I'd never witnessed on my sister before - it 
was a delight to behold.

"Well, looks like that went well," Denise remarked, sardonically. She 
raised her eyebrow toward Lissa, who was still staring breathlessly.

Lissa gathered herself, nodded slightly, and said, a little goofily, 
"Uh, have fun in there?"

I just grinned and shrugged, and sat in such a way that I was fully on 
display, finally feeling no trepidation at all, and happy that they 
were enjoying the view. Then I recalled Lissa's little schedule, and, 
before I could have second thoughts, I turned to Denise and said, "your 
turn. In the den." I motioned with my head, indicating the direction.

Denise made a wry smile, and fluidly rose and walked in front of me. 
Her breasts were astoundingly buoyant and perfect-looking in that 
moment, with their broad, chocolate brown, puffy cones topped with 
their enormous-looking top-hats. Turning back at the door, she said 
over her shoulder, "no fair - you can see in, from where you're 
sitting."

"I'll move," I suggested, and stood and went to the other end of the 
couch, where she'd been sitting. As I sat, I noted how the cloth of the 
couch had retained the warmth of her body, and it felt eerily personal. 
Sexual. Even more so, when I felt a hint of cooler dampness against my 
thigh - oh my, I thought, she's been leaking a bit.

Now that Denise was out of view, I exchanged glances with Lissa. She 
sat almost rigidly at attention, her arousal evident and clearly on 
edge. She cocked her head, as if listening, and held her finger to her 
lips. She wanted to listen to see if she could hear what her mother was 
up to. I realized they'd been doing the same when I was in there, and 
wondered if the flap-flap-flap of my wanking had been audible. Hmm... 
probably - I could swear I now heard the faintest squish-squish-squish 
from the den. Wow.

As we listened, I realized Lissa was gradually spreading her legs. Her 
hands were carefully on the arms of the chair, but she was becoming 
less and less circumspect in her position. She had begun glancing 
periodically toward me - not my face but between my legs. Her attention, 
her gradual display of her most intimate self to me, the sounds coming 
from the den - they all combined to ensure my throbbing cock didn't 
subside in the least.

I watched raptly as first the lips of her sparsely haired pussy came 
into view, then their pinkness was revealed, and they parted just 
slightly, showing the barest hint of the inner lips. At last, I saw her 
tiny clitoris emerge - like a shiny little blooming flower in a 
speeded-up biology film - from the blood-red, engorged folds near the 
top.

It was very difficult for me to avoid touching myself. It occurred to 
me that Lissa was having difficulty, too - that's why her hands were 
locked to the arms of the chair, the knuckles almost white despite her 
overall flushed condition. Almost too quickly, Denise re-emerged from 
the den, and, seeing the two us with our gazes locked on each other's 
crotches, just uttered a heavy sigh and took a spot on the couch.

We both broke off our mutual contemplation and turned to look at her.

I could tell that Denise was about to tell Lissa it was her turn, but 
suddenly, the phone rang. We all jumped, we were so fixated on each 
other and the highly charged erotic energies of the moment.

Denise leaped up and answered the phone, which was on the wall around 
the corner into the kitchen. Of course, Lissa and I only heard one end 
of the conversation. Apparently it was Joan - Marie's mom. Lissa made 
an expression that can only be described as "oh my god!" hand to half-
rounded, open mouth, wide, blinking eyes.

I could hear Denise saying something like, "um, sure, no problem.... 
yes, that's fine." Shortly, I heard her hang up, and she came around 
the corner. Very motherly, hands on hips, she didn't even need to ask 
her daughter question.

Lissa said, "god, I totally forgot. Sorry...."

I looked from one to the other, confused. Lissa explained further, for 
my benefit more than for her mom's. "Yesterday when I was at Marie's, 
she asked if it would be ok for her to come over today, since Jeff - 
that's Marie's brother - has some kind of science fair thing, up in St 
Paul, and Mr de Luca was on some business trip." I assumed Mr de Luca 
was Marie's father. "And I said sure, and that I'd ask mom but... uh, 
with everything that's been happening, I like totally forgot."

Denise sat down. The sexual tension had fled the room, with the 
combination of the interruption and the news we would be having company 
for the rest of the day. Denise said, "well, this somewhat changes 
things. Joan said she'd be dropping Marie off in half an hour."

Lissa nodded, and glanced involuntarily at the flagging wiggler in my 
lap. As often happens when I've been highly aroused and subsequently 
lose my erection, a juicy blob of precum now glistened at its tip. I 
saw her do a double take, which immediately caused the waning to revert 
to waxing, once again. Denise caught her daughter's look and looked too, 
and grinned, a bit stupidly. Shrugged.

Lissa took a deep breath and forced herself to look away. "Well, we 
just have to change the rules," she said. "Obviously, no more nudism 
day," she continued, and her gaze swept all three of us, inclusively. 
"As I'm sure we're all disappointed. But the other parts... can stay 
the same. As long as we promise not to be, um, too obvious, right?"

Denise nodded, and I said something like, "sure." More brightly, I 
added, "Maybe things were going a bit too far, anyway."

Denise chuckled, but Lissa, quite seriously, said, "no. I wouldn't say 
that. This'll just make things more interesting, right?"

"I suppose it gives us all something to be furtive and sneaky about," I 
suggested. "We all seem to rather like that, don't we?"

Lissa giggled, as her mother outright guffawed at my joke.

"Well, let's get dressed, then," I finally suggested.

But, as Lissa moved to leave the room, Denise stopped her. She said, 
"you still owe your five minutes for the 8 o'clock hour, Lissa." Almost 
sternly.

Lissa blanched, then grinned. Almost reflexively, she moved toward the 
den. Denise stopped her.

"No, I think you should do it right here, on that chair. Jason and I 
will go into our rooms to get dressed - I'm sure we'll take longer than 
five minutes, won't we?" She looked my direction.

I shrugged. "Of course," I said.

Lissa looked self-conscious, then, but returned to her seat. Denise and 
I exchanged glances of almost romantic conspiracy, and each left the 
room. I let the door shut, but only half way. I dressed very, very 
quietly, but I have to confess I heard nothing - Lissa was even quieter, 
I guess.

It only took me a few minutes to dress, but I waited my five, straining 
my ears, and finally heard Lissa get up from the recliner and run to 
her room, shouting from across the living room, "it's ok to come out 
now, uncle Jason." And giggling, again. So damn cute.

We all had some breakfast, Denise and I making another pot of coffee, 
and Lissa tinkering with the microwave, making herself some hot cocoa. 
By the time Joan de Luca arrived at 9 on the dot, we almost seemed like 
a normal family gathering on the Sunday after Thanksgiving.

Joan came into the house for a few moments, Jeff and Marie in tow. 
Marie was 14, just like Lissa. But blonde, and curvier, and several 
inches taller. She wasn't model material - her face had a bit too much 
length to it, I guess, but she was quite pretty in her own way, and had 
a phenomenal figure. Joan looked like an older version of her daughter, 
though she sported glasses and a frazzled soccer-mom look, her hair a 
lighter platinum blonde, and an incongruous tan that spoke of either 
time in a tanning salon or a recent Caribbean cruise or some such. Jeff 
was about 12, I judged, and barely into puberty. A good head shorter 
than his sister or mom (who were the same height, I noted), and even a 
few inches shorter than Lissa, who was quite petite. Also blond, but a 
darker shade, and looking quite geeky with his glasses and dressed up 
in a tie for his science fair presentation or whatever it was. I 
suspected the geeky look was his mother's idea. I sympathized.

Joan chattered a bit, aimlessly, downed a quarter cup of coffee with 
about six packets of Equal dumped in it, and shortly hugged her 
daughter goodbye and left with Jeff. A frazzled whirlwind of energy, 
that woman. I found it attractive - but maybe it was just because of my 
unrepentantly high level of horniness.

This left the four of us, sitting round the table, finishing some 
breakfast (Marie had helped herself to a toasted english muffin Lissa 
had offered), and contemplating our respective thoughts. Denise 
pretended to become immersed in the editorial page of the newspaper. I 
could tell she was pretending.

I emptied my coffee cup, got up and conscientiously decided to help 
clean up the kitchen. Soon enough, the girls disappeared into Lissa's 
room. Denise came into the kitchen and leaned close to me.

"It's after nine," she said, in a throaty voice that made the time of 
day sound like a sexual act. "And it's my turn to tell you when and 
where."

I glanced at her, curious to see what she was going to propose, my 
heart suddenly racing.

"You have to do it right here. Standing at the counter."

"But..." I whispered.

She shook her head. "I'll sit back down at the table. I won't be able 
to see."

"What if the girls..." I protested again.

She kept shaking her head. "They won't be out, I don't think. Not for 
five minutes, at least." She returned to her seat, and resumed her 
pretended perusal of the newspaper.

I finished with loading the dishwasher, and wiped off the countertops, 
buying a few seconds, but Denise shot me a sharp glance, with raised 
eyebrows, that eloquently said, "Now!"

Awkwardly, I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled out my uncomfortably rigid 
pole, that I'd so carefully tucked into a pair of briefs and hidden 
under some loose shirttails, so as to not be too obvious for our guests. 
It felt very exciting and erotic to be standing here in my sister's 
kitchen as I felt the hot hardness in my grip, knowing she could see me 
down to just above my waist over the countertop, from where she sat. 
And see me she was doing, as her fake newspaper reading wasn't going 
very well for her, apparently.

I brazenly decided to lock my gaze with hers, as I began to toy with my 
meat. I taunted and teased myself, knowing that an all-out stroke at 
this point would cause a prohibited orgasm - and besides, I'd just 
cleaned the kitchen! I couldn't believe I was looking into my sister's 
eyes as I did this. That she could see my arm moving, see how my lips 
must have parted in arousal and concentration, seen the glaze form in 
my eyes.

It was an amazing, strangely intimate five minutes, that's for sure. It 
was with almost regret that I realized Denise was tapping her watch, my 
eyes came back into focus, I stopped what I was doing and tucked my 
tool back into its burrow.

Denise gave me a few seconds to do this, then rose from the table to 
come stand beside me, so I could feel the heat coming off her body, and 
breathed into my ear, "that was more than five minutes, bro."

Then she giggled almost like a schoolgirl and raced off to her bedroom. 
I thought, for a minute, she was off to do you-know-what, but I knew 
Lissa hadn't given her a time or place, and I knew we were all playing 
by the rules. Maybe she just had to pee, I thought. And then I realized 
that this hour it was my turn to tell Lissa. For some reason, I found 
this extremely exciting.

Somehow, right on cue, Lissa and Marie emerged from Lissa's bedroom, 
and milled into the dining room. Somehow, I marveled, even just two 
teenagers can "mill" under the right circumstances.

"Hey, uncle Jason..." Lissa began, but, apparently sidetracked, 
interrupted herself: "where's mom?" Looking around.

"I think she's in her room," I speculated.

"Oh. Oh, well, can Marie and me go on the computer in the den?"

"Sure," I said. What was she up to now? I wondered. Or was it 
"innocent" fun? Games, or some such. Given all that had been happening, 
I had a difficult time imagining Lissa up to anything "innocent" 
anymore. I wondered if a part of me found this regretful.

The girls ran off to the den without a word, but quickly Lissa poked 
her head around the corner and said "thanks," and winked. The little 
minx. Thinking quickly, I crooked my finger - come here.

Her eyes got a little bigger, and she leaned around the corner farther. 
"It's my turn," I said softly, "this hour, to tell you when and where. 
The where is in the den, ok?"

She nodded, dumbly.

"The when is up to you, but before ten, of course."

Her face had turned serious, but she nodded again. "Ok," she mouthed. 
And disappeared, leaving me wondering for a moment if she wasn't taking 
me seriously. But of course she was. Of course.

So Lissa disappeared back into the den with her friend. I decided to go 
see what Denise was up to, but met her in the hall coming out of her 
bedroom. I explained that the girls were on the computer in the den, 
and that I suspected Lissa had something up her sleeve.

"Probably," Denise shrugged, and spontaneously took my hand and lead me 
back to the dining room. We sat in two chairs, side-by-side, and we 
could hear the girls giggling and talking in low voices just beyond the 
ability to make out the words.

"I'm so fucking horny, Jason," my sister whispered to me. Leaning close. 
Even a day or two ago, such a statement from my sister would have been 
a gift from heaven, and highly incongruous. As it was, it was still a 
gift from heaven... but there was about zero incongruity.

"Me too," I said, and punched her arm playfully, the way I had when we 
were little.

Chapter 19. Reminiscences.

We had been sitting quietly for only a few moments, when Lissa 
reappeared from the den.  She took in the tableau of her mom and me 
sitting there, so close together and side-by-side, and showed some 
evident satisfaction on her face.

"What's up, hun?" Denise asked.

Lissa shrugged, but then quickly took a seat across the table from us 
and leaned forward with another conspiratorial grin on her face.

"I forgot that I have to give you your little task for this hour, too," 
she said to her mom, almost giggling.

Denise looked a little embarrassed, glanced sideways at me and back to 
her daughter.  "Um, ok?" she prompted.

"So, I think you should do it, right here at the table," Lissa 
commanded, with a triumphant tone.

"With Jason sitting right here?" Denise asked, whether with real or 
feigned panic, I couldn't quite tell.  Perhaps a cognitively dissonant 
combination of both?

Lissa's grin widened.  "Of course, mom.  He can sit across from you, 
like where I am... he won't see anything..." 

Denise glanced, involuntarily, at her own lap, and across at her 
daughter.  Swallowed, slightly nervously.  I thought, after what she'd 
made me do, standing at the counter in the kitchen, there was some 
justice to this request of Lissa's.  Almost as if Lissa knew, and was 
assisting.  Hmm.

"... as long as you're careful, of course," Lissa concluded, her 
expression turning serious again.  And added - unnecessarily reminding 
us all of how things had been progressing - "Trust me, I did it just 
the other day sitting across from Jason just like this, and it went 
just FINE."  She then grinned widely.

And with that, and without looking back, she got up and returned to 
join her friend Marie in the den.

So as to prevent further argument, I immediately stood and moved to the 
seat directly across from my sister at the table, and met her gaze 
challengingly.  With a bit of a grimace of combined annoyance and 
mischievousness, Denise allowed her hands to disappear under the rim of 
the table and I avidly noted the wiggling of her upper arm and elbow as 
she worked loose the button of her jeans, and then clearly heard zipper 
go down in the near silence that reigned.  It was very intense, with 
our eyes in almost locked contact, and not a word exchanged.

A minute or two into her "five minutes," Denise began to talk, 
unbidden:  "you know, it's weird, this isn't the first time I've done 
this."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise, but let her keep talking, not wanting 
to break the spell.

"I think it was the first year I went away to college, but I was home, 
visiting like over Christmas break maybe - I don't recall exactly.  But 
you were just turned fourteen.  And my old friend Mikaela was over, I 
think."

I remembered Mikaela.  I'd reached a point where I was definitely aware 
of and fascinated by girls.  But Mikaela had always been an "older 
woman" - at all of 18 or 19, I realize, but at the time she was as 
unattainable, as inconceivable, as a playboy model.  But she'd been 
quite attractive, in a slightly plump, bubbly, blond suburban kind of 
way.  A good contrastive match to my sister's somewhat contrived 
"African warrior princess" image of the same period. 

Denise continued, "she and I used to give each other these outrageous 
dares - I think that's how I first got turned on to the idea of having 
tasks, and this almost-getting-caught games-playing stuff you've 
resurrected for me.  But you must appreciate the irony that you were 
present right at the start, too.

"Mikaela had dared me to touch myself somewhere in the house where 
other people were.  She was around - maybe she was in my room, I don't 
remember - she wasn't in the dining room.  So we were on the honor 
system, even then, just like it's been with Finn.  I mean, with you.  
Heh. 

"But you were there, sitting at the dining room table.  Eating 
breakfast or something.  I'd been up for a while.  I came out, in 
sweats or something loose like that, and plopped down across from you.  
I know you'll think I'm making this up, but really, I did it.  Not like 
now, not like edging myself, teasing my little clit like I am now...."

I was aware my mouth had dropped open slightly, as I witnessed my 
sister's surrender to the intense sexual feelings she was provoking in 
herself, beheld her raunchy, horny soul as the layers of inhibition 
were peeled away by the strength of her excitement.  My own arousal was, 
eh, immense.

"But I let my hand make contact.  You know, touched myself a little bit.  
Felt my dampness.  It was just a hint compared to where I am now.  But 
it was so exciting.  So daring, so naughty... I don't know what."

I nodded stupidly, and realized that the five minutes had flown.  
Denise saw my eyes flick toward the clock, and joined them, and I saw 
the rhythmic motion of her right should cease.  She let out a long, 
languid sigh, and licked her full lips in open flirtation.  

"God," she almost moaned.

My voice was barely functional, and in a hoarse whisper I asked, "are 
you going to be able to handle this?"

"Shit, yeah," she agreed.  "It's almost painful, not being able to cum 
- but I wouldn't change a thing."  

We sat and stared at each other.

Chapter 20.  Visitor, Victim.

The girls were still giggling in the den and had started playing some 
music on the PC in there rather loudly.  Denise and I sat at the table 
recovering from the intensity of the past few minutes, when 
unexpectedly the doorbell rang.  Denise's face displayed a fascinating 
progression of wordless emotion:  surprise, puzzlement, recollection, 
alarm.  

She stood up and hiked up her pants and rebuttoned them and closed the 
fly, and then peeked out a window that gave her a view of her porch, 
and she said, "Oh crap!  I forgot that I told Mr Uribe, like two weeks 
ago, that if he got lonely over the long weekend to feel free to stop 
by and visit.  I'd told him you'd be visiting."

Mr Uribe was, I recalled, their neighbor from across the street - an 
older-looking man of about 60, of Mexican descent, whom I'd met at 
David's funeral the year before and had immediately gotten along with 
well.

Denise continued, "his son and daughter-in-law and grandkids moved to 
the East Coast in August - some new teaching position for his son.  So 
he's alone for the Thanksgiving weekend, for the first time in years."

"Well, let him in," I insisted.  "It's not like we're in flagrante 
delicto."  I grinned at the funny face she made at this comment.  
"Don't keep him waiting," I insisted.

Denise gave me a wry smile and meaninglessly messed with her hair for a 
moment, as if forgetting that its current cornrows configuration meant 
she didn't have to worry much about the grave dangers of poofy, frizzy 
hair.

Then she opened the door and Mr Uribe and I were reintroduced.  She had 
him come in and sit on the couch, and offered him a drink.  Then she 
fled into the kitchen to fetch him a beer.  Apologizing to the man and 
excusing myself for a second, I followed her in, since her nervousness 
was rather obvious.  I could tell she was in turmoil, and was probably 
torn between a desire to be a gracious host and her desire to continue 
with our private games.  

In hurriedly whispered tones, I said to her, "we can take a little 
break, you know."  And added, "but we should probably warn Lissa - I 
doubt the girls heard the doorbell with that music they're playing."  I 
had managed to recognize Lady Sovereign's sassy rapping, among who 
knows what else, but they'd turned the volume up pretty high, it seemed 
to me, though the sound quality of the computer's small speakers was 
tinny and poor.

Denise put her hand to her mouth, in alarm, and then, pausing to 
compose herself, strode back into the living room to give Mr Uribe his 
beer.  She was more composed, now, I saw as I followed her back out and 
sat down across from him.  

Rather than sit down, Denise turned with a feigned look of slight 
annoyance, and went to the half-closed door of the den, and leaned in.  
"Hey, girls, can you turn that down?"  But then Denise made the mistake 
of adding, rhetorically, "What're you two doing in there, anyway?"

Her daughter apparently took this second question a little too 
literally, and answered, quite audibly as the music abruptly cut off, 
"Me an' Marie found this cool website for playing truth or dare." 

I suspected this was something Lissa and Denise had scripted quite some 
time ago, before the revelation of Finn's identity, as it matched the 
tasks as I'd originally structured them at the beginning of the long 
weekend.  I imagined that the last half hour or so had been occupied 
with Lissa getting her friend to sign on to the project at some level - 
though I doubted she would have told Marie the whole story.

Mr Uribe's eyebrows shot up quizzically as he overheard this, and I 
grinned at him lamely, and suspected that Denise was desperately trying 
to convey to the girls - using some hieroglyphic hand signals I could 
easily visualize - the fact that there was a visitor in the living room.  
Certainly, it suddenly became very quiet in the den, and then there was 
some whispering as she went completely out of sight into the room and 
pushed the door mostly shut behind her.  We did overhear one of the 
girls, I couldn't tell which, utter a kind of loud but sincere-sounding 
"oops!" 

I tried to distract Mr Uribe with some small talk, asking about his 
son's new job and refamiliarizing myself with his family's particulars.  
After a short while, with Denise still ensconced in the den, he said, 
"hey, please, just call me Frank - no need to stay so formal.  I keep 
reminding Melissa and Mrs Nguyen, but they seem to forget 
occasionally."

"Well, you can call me Jason, of course.  And I'm sure my sister 
prefers Denise to Mrs Nguyen."

Things relaxed some more, and he told me how he had spent Thanksgiving 
Thursday volunteering with a meals-on-wheels food delivery program - he 
worked in a social services program of some kind, I recalled - then he 
told me how he had managed to waste the last two days trying to clean 
his basement.  We were laughing at the tendency of this sort of task to 
become infinite, when Denise finally reappeared, looking calm and 
collected, and took a seat on the couch opposite Frank and joined the 
conversation.

I won't go into the details of the conversation, but it was pleasant 
and unforced, and I could tell that Frank and Denise had some 
substantial preexisting comfort with each other, as neighbors who 
trusted and liked one another. 

After another ten minutes or so, the girls poked their heads from the 
den, looking slightly embarrassed and giggly, and said a quick hi to 
Frank.  Then Lissa said to her mom, as clearly part of something 
prenegotiated, "Marie and I are going to start now, OK?"  Marie was 
looking vaguely nervous but seemed in the thrall of her more confident 
friend.

Denise just said, "sure, darling."  With that, the girls pulled back 
from the open door and quietly shut it completely.

She shrugged at the two us facing her, and commented, as if making an 
apologies, "you know how teenage girls can be - they're fixated on 
playing this game, so rather than argue about it I just put some limits 
and said go ahead."

Frank smiled understandingly, "yes, I vaguely recall having a teenaged 
daughter - I definitely understand."

"Oh, yes, I forget you have a daughter too.  How is she?" asked Denise.

Frank looked troubled for minute, and explained that as far as he knew, 
she was fine.  "We don't stay in touch very well," he explained, sadly.  
She had joined the Navy straight out of high school, and that had been 
8 years ago.  She had apparently decided it was the career she wanted, 
but even when on leave, she didn't come home to visit.  It was a moment 
of sadness.

To change the subject, I think, Frank mused, "I haven't played truth or 
dare since I was a teenager myself," and sighed.  He might as well have 
exclaimed, melodramatically, "ah, lost youth!"  And he certainly played 
to the themes on Denise and my minds.

Denise and I exchanged a silly grin when he wasn't looking, and almost 
in unison both said something to the effect of "me neither."  

We broke into laughter at this and then there was a comfortable silence.  
Almost as if on cue, the door of den reopened and Lissa and Marie both 
trouped out, and positioned themselves standing in front of Denise.

"What's the joke?" asked Lissa, self-consciously, seeing all of us 
recovering from our moment of laughter.

The two girls then sat side-by-side on the remaining chair, a non-
reclining piece that matched the couch and was catty-corner to it.  
Their thin, fourteen-year-old frames fit easily.  The looked back and 
forth at each other, as if waiting for the other to speak.

"What's up, girls?"  I asked, finally.  

Lissa said to Marie, softly, as if just to her (but easily overheard), 
"well, it was your idea."  

I sensed there was possibly something pre-programmed here, but I 
couldn't tell if Denise was in on it too, or even if Marie was, for 
that matter.  Whatever it was, I sensed where things might be headed, 
and I doubted it had REALLY been Marie's idea, whatever it was.  It 
seemed to me most likely that Lissa was playing the situation herself, 
with her recently revealed impeccable instinct for kinkifying 
situations.  But somehow she'd gotten her friend to think it HAD been 
her idea, and so it was she who finally took a deep breath began to 
speak, in a barely-audible stream-of-consciousness that had Denise, 
Frank and I leaning forward to make sure to hear all her words.

"Well, me an' Lissa kinda were thinking it's kind of boring to play 
truth or dare, with, like, just two of us and were wondering if, uh, 
like, maybe it would be more interesting with MORE PEOPLE playing..."

She paused and looked reflexively at me and Frank, underscoring the 
fact that by "more people" she probably meant something more to the 
effect of "guys."

As if to emphasize this, Lissa grabbed exactly that thought from my 
mind and said quickly, breathlessly, "especially, like, some GUYS."

Marie was beginning to blush, but retained her serious expression and 
continued again, "so, we were, like wondering, did you all want to play 
too, I mean, even though you're, like old and stuff..."

"Yeah," interrupted my niece, with a bit more energy.  "We don't mind 
that you're, like, old - just to make it more interesting, is all."

Marie seemed to have forgotten what to say next, and fell silent, just 
nodding.

I was the first to react cogently, with a little effort to make light 
of it:  I said, "well, if you're going to call us 'old' I'm not sure we 
want to play."

"Uncle JASON," protested Lissa.  "It's not like that," she sighed, 
looking annoyed.  "You know."

"We know what you mean," said Denise, in reassuring maternal tones.  
"But are you sure?  I think we'd have to set some solid ground rules 
before we start."

"Of course," agreed the girls, in unison.

Denise's "helper" statement convinced me that she had known this was 
coming.  But I was worried about Frank - that maybe he would be too 
polite to say if he found the whole thing a bit too weird for his 
tastes. 

So I said, "You don't mind if Mr Uribe - Frank, here - plays too?"  But 
I was facing toward him directly, and made clear I giving him an 
opportunity to bow out gracefully.

But he laughed heartily and with great sincerity, and looked directly 
at the girls, raising his eyebrow questioningly, almost Spock-like.  
"You wouldn't actually want a REALLY old man, like me, to join you in 
your game?" he queried, good-naturedly.

Lissa looked at her neighbor on the chair, and grinned.  "Of course you 
can play.  At least that way, I won't be totally surrounded by just, 
like, RELATIVES."  She emphasized the last word with that perfect 
tonality of teenage disgust, but grinned quickly at her mother and me 
to make clear she was just kidding.

"Besides, you're pretty handsome for an old man, Mr Uribe," piped in 
Marie, shyly, but much to everyone's surprise, including her friend's, 
who almost gave herself whiplash spinning around to regard her with 
surprise.

Marie was right - probably, Frank was in better shape than I was, 
despite my being several decades his junior.  He wasn't tall, but he 
was well proportioned, with zero pot-belly and long, tanned arms and a 
shock of somewhat chaotic grey hair over handsome, vaguely native-
American features.  I realized that if someone had walked in on our 
group unknown, they'd ironically have decided, mistakenly, that Lissa 
and he were the most likely pair in the group to be actually related, 
given their similar skin-tone and facial cast.

Frank laughed again, and said, soothingly, "I'm very flattered.  But if 
we're going to be playing truth or dare, you probably all should call 
me Frank.  Enough of this Mr Uribe."  He swept a sly wink around at the 
two girls and Denise.  There was a silence, so he continued, "so, uh, 
how is this played?"

The girls both started talking at once, excitedly, but finally Marie 
took up the stream and ran with it, as Lissa yielded to the quiet girl 
in the long blond hair.  

"Well, there's this cool website where you can go to get questions.  
You go on and request either a truth or a dare and you can set ahead of 
time, like, how risque you want it to be, like using movie ratings, PG-
13 or R or X or whatever.  So then you get your question or dare."

"Wow, they even have the internet involved in truth or dare, now," 
commented Frank.

I just grinned at him and nodded, wryly.

"It makes it easier than to, like, think of questions and stuff," 
explained Marie, seeming slightly annoyed. 

"It's more fair," agreed Lissa, soothingly.  "People can't gang up on 
other people with questions ore dares."

"That's a good point," agreed Frank, trying to diffuse the girls' 
defensiveness.

"Well, obviously we'll stick to the PG-13 rating," harrumphed Denise, 
very parentally.

"Momm!" complained Lissa.  "Those ones are kinda boring."  

"Well if we're going to have R-rated questions, I'll reserve veto 
power."

Lissa nodded, but seemed to politely disagree: "maybe we could just 
make some good clear rules in advance."

"Such as?" Denise prompted.

"Well, obviously, if the whole group thinks it's a bad question or dare 
then we can skip to the next one - there are some lousy ones on that 
website, that's for sure," Lissa mused.  Marie nodded in agreement to 
this.

"OK, what else?" 

"Well, I think we should make sure no dares outside the house.  And no 
dares with one person touching another person, unless everyone agrees."

"That's reasonable," Denise nodded, unfolding her arms from her chest 
and appearing more relaxed.  

"And no 'private' dares," suggested Marie.  "Some of the dares like say 
you have to go in another room with someone, or stuff like that.  Most 
of those kind are kinda, like, weird."

"Risque," clarified Lissa.  Marie again nodded.

Denise asked, "so are we going to have to all pile into that den to 
play, since the computer is involved?"

Lissa and Marie both started to nod, but I interrupted, "I have a 
better idea."

They all turned toward me with raised eyebrows, so I stood and quickly 
fetched my laptop from the den.  "We can stay comfortable in here and 
use this," I suggested.

"Oh, awesome," the girls chorused.  

"So we'll make one person moderator, to run the website, and, like read 
the questions or dares.  We can sit in a circle and take turns."

I fired up my laptop, and there was some shuffling of places.  Both the 
girls and then Denise made a quick bathroom break, and then Lissa 
fetched some chips and drinks and things from the kitchen, while Marie 
pulled up the website.  The girls insisted that the seating arrangement 
be "boy-girl-boy-girl" (to the extent possible given 3 girls and 2 
guys), so we were seated as follows:  Frank retained his position on 
the couch, which he shared with Denise who was at the other end.  Then 
I was placed in the end chair next to Denise, and the girls took places 
kneeling at the coffee table in front of the recliner behind them, 
though they seemed disinclined to sit in it.  They were both rather 
hyper, actually.  I suspected it was teenage horniness at play.

Marie acquired the role of moderator sort of by default - it occurred 
to me that Lissa wanted her in the role for some reason - but Frank 
leaned over and watched intently as she put in our group's settings to 
the truth or dare website, and seemed amused by the fact that it turned 
out the questions and dares were ones that had been submitted by users.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes or so, everyone was settled and we 
had a brief argument about who would begin.  Then Lissa pointed out 
that the website had a random number generator, and added, "you'll find 
some of the dares require random people to help with dares or questions.  
So we counted ourselves off (Frank as 1 through Marie as 5) and the 
number generator gave us a 3, which meant I got to start it off.

"Well, give me a truth question, then," I said, with false reluctance.  
I really couldn't believe this was happening.  Not only was I now 
playing truth or dare with my sister and niece, but they'd managed to 
rope in two "innocents" besides.  They'd not stay innocent long, I 
suspected.

Chapter 21.  Truth or Dare.

"What's the dirtiest thing you've ever done?" read Marie from the 
website.  Her voice was slightly tentative.

"Uh..." I said.

"That question's too vague," protested Lissa, quickly, perhaps sensing 
that an honest answer to this question, at the very start of the game, 
might be a bit overwhelming for our guests.  Such excellent social 
instincts she seemed to have, I thought, and found myself exchanging a 
weirdly felt "admiring parent" gaze with Denise, as Marie pulled up the 
next question.

So then Marie read, " What are the sexiest clothes that you own? 
Describe them to the group."

The question was equally awkward to answer, but much less incriminating, 
I suppose.  Finally, to the rapt attention of all four of them, I said, 
somewhat flippantly, "nothing.  If I want to be sexy, I don't wear 
clothes."

Everyone laughed and agreed this was a good answer.  "Especially for a 
guy," pointed out Marie, blushing slightly.

It had been determined that play would proceed clockwise, so it was 
Lissa's turn.  She requested a "truth" also, and we all agreed that 
likely the first couple of rounds, at least, would be no more than 
questions.

"Have you ever performed a blow job? Who was your most recent?"

Both girls seemed embarrassed by this question, and Denise became 
incensed, though I was pretty sure she was faking it, mostly for the 
benefit of Frank.  "For crissakes," she burst out.  

"Don't worry, mom," Lissa reassured.  "Since I haven't, like, actually 
done that.  Ever."

"Still..." my sister protested.

"Well, we did okay R-rated questions," I pointed out.  Denise calmed 
down (or, pretended to, since I doubted she was in the least bothered 
by it in actuality).  

I studied Frank's reaction, to see how he was reacting to this first 
fragment of smut from a fourteen-year-old.  He seemed to be taking it 
with equanimity, and I laughed to myself, "the old guy must think he 
just won the lottery."  I began to expect Frank would be no problem - 
he was just smiled mildly and looked expectant as the turn passed to 
Marie.

The next question was, "If a lover or fiance is present, tell the group 
who you have had sex with BEFORE this person.  Describe it in truthful, 
vivid terms."

"Not relevant," Marie immediately commented.  

"For a number of reasons," joked Lissa, and got an elbow jab from her 
friend.  "Pick a new question," she then insisted.

"No, that was my question," Marie complained.  "It's just not 
relevant."  There was a glare exchanged between them, but good-natured.  
Finally Marie relented, and pulled up the next question.

"To the best of your knowledge, has anyone ever cheated on you?  How 
did you find out and what did you do?" she read, and quickly answered,  
"well, no, since I never even had a boyfriend."

"Still not relevant," complained Lissa.

"But not QUITE as not relevant," I said, trying to defend the mild-
mannered girl from the forceful personality of her best friend.  Marie 
looked at me with thanks, and so Lissa relented quickly.

It was Frank's turn.  "Have you ever blamed a pet, or someone else, for 
one of your farts? Did anyone believe you?" Marie read.

We all laughed at that.  And Frank said, quite mildly, "Of course." 
which caused another chorus of giggles from the girls.

Denise also requested a question, and Marie pulled up, "What's the 
weirdest place you have ever had sex? How did it go?"

Denise was clearly self-conscious, though I suspected, again, it was 
primarily a show for Frank's benefit.  But after some hums and haws she 
managed to say, softly, "it was on the roof of physics building at the 
university."

"Momm!" protested Lissa.  "Too much information!"

"Now darling, if you were worried about 'too much information' you 
shouldn't have asked to play truth or dare."

Frank and I both chuckled, and Lissa recovered almost instantaneously.  
"Eh, yep.  Good point, mom.  Never mind."

"I suppose another truth question for Jason?" asked Marie.  I nodded.  
She began giggling with embarrassment as she read the question.  "Have 
you ever masturbated at a friend's house? What rooms?"

"Heh, well," I began, awkwardly.  But finally plunged in, "yes, a long 
time ago.  The bathroom, bedroom, even the living room once, when no 
one was home."  

"Oh my," muttered Lissa.  And Denise quickly looked between me, with a 
sly grin, and Frank, to test his reaction.

Frank just chuckled softly and shook his head.  "Such is youth, young 
ladies.  Beware," he then directed at the girls, causing another fit of 
giggling from both of them.

"Lissa's turn," said Marie, recovering, and read a question, safely 
assuming her friend would choose truth over dare.  "Have you ever 
fantasized about having sex with a teacher? Which one, and describe 
them."

"I don't even want to hear this," muttered Denise.

But Lissa, amazingly, answered quite forthrightly, "Well, there's Mr 
Campisi, the gym teacher."

"Yah, he's hot," agreed Marie, to everyone's surprise.

Then, sincerely shocking her mother, I think, Lissa added, almost 
gratuitously, "And there's Mr Zimmermann, in English."

"Oh my GOD, really?" exclaimed Marie.  "But he's, like, OLD."  Then, 
immediately realizing her faux pas, she put her hand to her mouth and 
stared at Frank.

But Frank, rather than get offended, just laughed and said, "I don't 
mind, Marie - I AM old, after all.  And we all are guilty of thinking 
about odd things sometimes, eh?"  He winked at Lissa, who was looking 
self conscious.

Nobody pressed her to give descriptions of the teachers she'd named, as 
the question required - I certainly wasn't going to ask her to, and it 
was apparent that Denise and Marie both already knew what the two men 
in question looked like. 

Denise was just shaking her head, slowly, and finally said, with humor, 
"my turn for 'too much information.'"

We all laughed.

Marie opted for a truth and read, for our benefit, "When was the last 
time you 'called in sick' to work when you weren't really sick? Why did 
you?"

"Heh, kinda boring after those other questions, huh?  Well, I guess 
about a month ago I convinced my mom to call in sick for me to school.  
No particular reason, I was just fed up with school maybe."

The answer passed with out much comment, and so it was Frank's turn.  
"Truth," he requested simply.

"Who was someone that you could have had sex with, but chose not to. 
Why?"  

Frank meditated for a minute, and then began, "a few years back I had a 
coworker, named Ellen, that definitely seemed interested.  One day she 
came straight out and propositioned me - I was quite surprised, but 
flattered.  But after thinking it over I decided it would mess up the 
work relationship if something went bad in a relationship with her, so 
I said no.  She was a little upset but I think eventually she 
understood."

"Aw, that's sad," said Lissa, pouting her lip almost coquettishly.  
Both girls were clearly already adjusted to the fact that Frank was 
involved in the game - he was such an easygoing personality and so 
genuinely warm - I think that helped.  I could see that Denise was 
relaxing too.

"It was for the best, I think," Frank said.

"Mom's turn," said Lissa.

"If you had to stick your hand down some other player's pants, whose 
pants would your choose?" was what Marie read.

Denise hardly thought about it.  "Well, obviously, if I HAD to, it 
would have to be Frank.  Jason would be a bad idea, since he's my 
brother," and with that she leered at me, "and the girls might be a bit 
young for that kind of thing."

"So by process of elimination, and sheer luck, I win!" exclaimed Frank, 
energetically.  Denise sat back, mildly surprised at the outburst, but 
then we all started laughing.  Definitely things were going just fine, 
I thought.

"So now it's the third round," said Marie.  "Someone should take a 
dare."

"Someone, meaning me.  Are you saying that should be me?"  I asked in 
mock alarm.

She shrugged.  But Lissa took up a little chant, "pick a dare, pick a 
dare!"

I relented, and said, "OK, dare."

Marie pushed the appropriate button on the website, and read out the 
first question, but since it involved going outdoors it was rejected as 
against the rules.  So the next one she pulled up was, "Remove all of 
your clothes that are white or black."

Well, it was the case that I was wearing black boxer shorts, but my 
jeans were blue and my shirt was a beigish color.  I was also wearing 
white socks - everyone was without shoes.  So it was agreed I could go 
into the den and remove the boxers and put my jeans back on.  I did 
that, came back out, and deposited the boxers and socks in a little 
pile on the floor near me.  

"When do I get to put them back on?" I asked.

"If the dare doesn't say, then it's for the rest of the game," 
explained Lissa, smirking.  "That can be the clothes pile," she added, 
gesturing at the modest heap.  "There will probably be more."

"Hehe," laughed Marie.  

"Hey, this isn't supposed to be strip poker," protested Denise.  "I 
didn't authorize that."  She glanced at Frank, looking nervous again.

"Well, we didn't make a rule against, though," Lissa pointed out.  
"Besides, what's the harm?"

Denise looked at Frank more directly, as if prompting him make a call.  

He just shrugged.  "I'd say, whatever you people are comfortable with."

So then Denise turned toward me, but all I did was grin and say, 
"you're the mom."

"C'mon, mom, don't be a spoilsport," Lissa pleaded.

"Oh, whatever," Denise finally relented, throwing her hands up.  I knew 
it had all been a show for Frank's benefit, to reassure him that 
whatever perversions might crop up this afternoon were of a spontaneous 
nature rather than a continuation of illicit previous behavior among 
the three of us.

"Lissa's turn," Marie prompted, trying to get the play back on track.  
"Are you going to take a dare too?"

Lissa started shaking her head, "no way."

"Here, we can try this 'random' button on the website," suggested Marie.

Lissa's resistance had been cursory - she agreed.

Marie said, "Oh, bummer, you got a truth."  And read,  "Imagine you are 
in the room with another couple when, unexpectedly, they begin going at 
it hot and heavy. What do you do?" 

"Hmm," cogitated Lissa.  "Watch?" she finally said, flippantly.

"Ha, good one," her friend laughed.

We all decided that was a good enough answer, and so Marie went.  Lissa 
talked her into trying the "random" button as well, but she also got a 
truth:  "What is your opinion of 'going down under'? On members of the 
same sex? Opposite sex? Do you like it? What about having it done to 
you?"

She looked puzzled for a minute, then Lissa leaned over and whispered 
something theatrically in her ear.  Marie blushed and said softly, "oh, 
that."  Then, after a pause, she said more loudly, to the group, "lack 
of experience means I haven't formed an opinion on this matter."  Her 
tone was one of jokey pomposity, and it was hilarious, in the context.  
She was really quite a ham, in her understated way.  We all had another 
good laugh.

Frank went with the flow and also opted to try the "random" button.  At 
that point, Lissa proposed that we all commit to using the random 
feature, and everyone agreed, so it was settled that we would use it 
for the rest of the game.

Frank got a truth, though - but it was the most risque one so far:  
"Describe a favorite way of masturbating. Include all the details, and 
how long it usually takes. Also, tell the group when you last did it."

For the first time, he seemed a bit flustered, and I caught him 
exchanging a meaningful glance with Denise, as if requesting permission 
to actually do this.  Denise shrugged and made a broad gesture of 
motherly resignation, then grinned.  "Go ahead," she said.

So he began.  "Well, I guess it's your basic two-handed deal, stroking 
myself, uh, you know."  He pointedly avoided the rapt, curious gazes of 
the two teenagers, but was clearly conscious of them, and was having 
trouble figuring out where to lay his hands so as to convey nothing 
offensive.

When his pause was too lengthy, Lissa interrupted, "like, are you 
naked?"

"Uhem, yes, usually," he assented.  "So I stroke for about 20-30 
minutes, lying on my bed or on the couch if I'm alone."

"Cool," said Marie, encouragingly.  The weird irony of a fourteen-year-
old encouraging a sixty-year-old to describe this intimate act seemed 
lost on no one.

When Frank didn't go on, Marie finally added, "so, you have to tell, 
when was the last time?"

Frank looked genuinely embarrassed, finally, but the fact that he was 
evidently playing along, completely truthfully, caused me to feel 
optimistic about the subsequent kinky trajectory of the game.  "Eheh, 
it was... well, this morning."  He shook his head as if slightly 
bewildered by his audacity in making this revelation to the group.

Both girls giggled, but very quietly.  Denise, to break the tension, 
said loudly, "OK, what do I get?"

Frank looked up in alarm, as if thinking she was somehow referencing 
his description, but he was unable to see quite how, before realizing 
she was trying to keep the game moving by asking for her turn to begin.

Marie pushed the button, and got yet another truth.  "If you could 
change the number of brothers and sisters you have, what would you add 
or subtract? Why?"

"Well I'd certainly never get rid of Jason."

"Aw, that's sweet, sis," I said.

Denise grinned at me, and went on, "when I was younger sometimes I 
wished I had a sister - but it's not really something that I feel like 
it is missing from my life.  So, I guess the answer is, no, no 
changes."

It was my turn.  Marie said it was a dare.  

"Hey, is this game rigged?" I complained, but just jokingly.

"If you're a male, you must kiss both breasts of the female that is 
most unclothed."

"Now that's getting out of hand," ventured Denise, with her now pro 
forma objection.

"It's not like anyone's naked yet," said Lissa, defensively.

"Yet?" said Denise in mock alarm.

The girls giggled, and Marie said, "so who's the least dressed?"

We all looked around a little bit, and finally, looking at Denise, 
Marie said in a businesslike tone - like a moderator at a business 
meeting - "how many pieces of clothes are you wearing?"  

"Uh, socks, pants, underwear, shirt - six."  I realized Denise had 
found an opportunity to put on underwear at some point since Frank's 
arrival.  Probably when she ran to the bathroom at the start of the 
game.

"Ok, I'm wearing five.  Lissa?"

Lissa said, "uh oh.  I'm definitely loser, here.  I've only got my 
dress and panties.  Two."

"Loser?" I complained.  

"Aw, Jason.  Uh, go ahead, I guess.  Just don't be gross, OK?"

"I can't believe this is happening," muttered Denise, to Frank - 
another pro forma expression of parental concern, I suspected, as she 
nevertheless made no move to stop the action.  

Lissa stood and came to where I was sitting, and I leaned forward and 
very chastely planted puckered kisses on each of her charming upturned 
cones, through the cloth of her dress, aiming for the topsides and not 
the fairly evident pointy parts.  Almost innocent.  Only almost.

Chapter 22.  Slouching Towards Debauchery.

Lissa resumed her spot and immediately Marie announced that she had 
received a dare:  "Blindfold the victim. Between the remaining players, 
assign a number to each player after getting the victim to choose a 
number. That person will make out with the victim for at least 30 
seconds, in whatever way they see fit. After the kiss is over, the 
kisser returns to their spot in the group and the blindfold is removed.  
If the victim guesses correctly on their first turn who kissed them it 
is the end of their turn. However, if they guess incorrectly, they must 
strip to their underwear for one turn."

"Wow, it's so complicated," said Marie, as a postscript.

"We don't have a blindfold," objected Lissa.

Much to my surprise, Denise volunteered, "I'll run and get a bandanna."  
She raced from the room, and Frank gazed after her with a hint of 
puzzlement in his eyes.  Perhaps for the first time he was guessing 
that there might have been some previous agreement as to the 
progression of the afternoon's events, and that it wasn't as 
spontaneous as it superficially appeared.

In any event, when Denise returned, Lissa said she wasn't sure, and 
seemed genuinely uncomfortable.  Denise quickly backed down and 
everyone immediately assented that Marie should pull up a different 
dare for her.  

"But it has to be a dare," I insisted, peevishly, having been the only 
person so far to have been required to do one.

So Marie read the next dare, "Take two normal size bath towels. You 
must remove all clothing and fashion yourself something to wear from 
the towels. Once the outfit is complete, you may NOT touch it with your 
hands. Remain like this for 3 rounds."

"Oh, I can do that, easy," said Lissa.  And without further comment she 
ran off to the bathroom and returned in under two minutes draped in a 
single towel just as she had been the other morning, with another over 
her shoulders like a cape.

"I'm almost more dressed than I was a minute ago," she laughed.  
"Except for the lack of underwear," she needlessly pointed out, being 
the incorrigible tease I now knew her to be.  She tossed her dress and 
panties onto the clothing pile she'd allocated earlier.

I did notice, however, that now, rather than return to her cross-legged 
position on the floor, she opted to kneel at the coffee table beside 
her friend, ensuring the nothing was visible "up skirt" so to speak.  
Definitely she was willing to play along with the fairly slow pace we'd 
all settled into, I suspect mostly because of Frank's presence - but it 
was not unwelcome to any of us, for all that.

It was Marie's turn, and she got a truth.  "How far have your 'intimate 
adventures' progressed with another person?"

Once again her shyness asserted itself, and it took some coaxing from 
Lissa to get her to answer.  Finally she admitted she'd only once 
kissed a guy, and nothing more.  Lissa reassured her, by volunteering, 
"you know it's the same with me, Marie.  Don't be embarrassed."  She 
smiled encouragingly at her best friend.

I could see Frank wanted to try to say something reassuring, but I 
think he got second thoughts, worrying that anything he said might be 
interpreted wrongly in the context.  Finally, he simply said, 
cheerfully, "OK, Whatcha got for me, Marie?"

Marie resumed her moderator role, and pulled up a truth for him.  "You 
have all suddenly been taken hostage. The only way you will survive is 
if you perform oral on anyone of the same sex in the room.  Who would 
it be, and why?"

"Eww," said Lissa.

"Ha," he laughed, and looked at me pointedly, and shrugged.  "It would 
have to be Jason - he's only other person of the same sex in the room."

"I guess that makes it easy," joked Denise.

"Let's hope that no hostage-taking happens," he replied.  But there was 
a twinkle in his eyes, and it was interesting to me the way he 
pointedly was objecting only to the forced/violent part of the 
hypothetical.  Very interesting.  It was another vote in favor of his 
evident open-mindedness, I figured.

I'm not really into same-sex activity, though I'd experimented a few 
times in my youth.  But if I was going to have a man suck my cock, I 
could hardly think of a hotter situation than in a room with my sister 
and two fourteen-year-old girls.  And, as I've already commented, he 
wasn't bad looking, for that matter.  I found myself getting weirdly 
turned on by the visuals I was generating for myself, suddenly.

The game went on.  For Denise, Marie summoned a dare:  "Select a random 
member of the opposite sex to sit on you, or you on them, and kiss 
while you straddle each other. Kiss passionately for 15 seconds. "

The only two choices were me or Frank, but Marie and Lissa made an 
elaborate production of using the random number generator on the 
website to indicate that Frank was to be Denise's "victim."

Denise looked hesitant for only a second.  "Well, it IS a dare," she 
sighed, as if reluctantly.  But I think Frank was amazed with how 
quickly she moved over and straddled him almost immediately, and 
delivered a quite respectable kiss to his lips.

"Wow," was all he could say as the girls finished counting down 15 
seconds and Denise just as quickly returned to her spot on the other 
end of the couch.  

Denise smirked, a little self-satisfied, while Lissa said something 
like, "yay, mom."  It was like being suddenly immersed in a teenage 
slumber party.  Except for the "mom" part.  And the Frank part.  And 
the me part.  But otherwise, yeah, just like it.

Then it was my turn.  Marie read a dare for me, "Choose the youngest 
member of the opposite sex. The group must blindfold both of you. Now 
take off each other's clothes and make out at least 2 minutes in front 
of the group. Stay nude and blindfolded 1 round."

"I think that's a little extreme," she concluded.  Everyone quickly 
agreed.  "Another dare?"

"Naw," said Lissa.  "Let's just make it without the stripping, or 
something."  

"Uh, wait a minute... who's youngest, here?"  Marie asked, with sudden 
alarm.  It turned out she was, by about a month.

"No way," she protested, and folded her arms.

"You don't want to make out with Jason?" Lissa teased her friend.  

"Uh..." Marie clearly was embarrassed.  But something compelled her not 
to lie outright.  "I don't know," she finally admitted.

"Well, try it," Lissa taunted.  "How about for less time?"

"Hey, who said these dares could be negotiated?" Marie complained.

"Isn't this my dare?"  I interrupted, and both girls looked over at me 
as I were the man from Mars.

"So you're saying you want to do it or not?" Lissa asked me, 
businesslike.

"Uh, no comment," I finally said, diplomatically, exchanging a glance 
of resignation with my sister.

"So since the dare says it has to be with the 'youngest person of the 
opposite sex' and since you refuse to decide, it's really up to her, 
right?"

"Are you planning to be a lawyer?" asked Frank, with a laugh.

Lissa just grinned and stuck out her tongue.  But then turned back to 
her friend.  "How about for 30 seconds, no blindfold, no stripping?"

Marie looked uncertain.  

"Aw, c'mon," her friend pleaded.  "I would do it."

"Then do it," Marie said, annoyance emerging in her voice.  The 
argument seemed to be getting overly serious.

"Now girls," cautioned Denise.  "Do we need to end the game?"

This brought looks of dismay and alarm to both faces, and almost 
instantaneously Lissa shook her head, while Marie announced, "OK, OK, 
I'll do it."

With that, she stood up and met my eyes boldly.  I sighed, accepting 
the dare - it was hardly distasteful.  Marie was a gorgeous young woman, 
a bit taller than Lissa, with a classic blonde's face, the faintest 
sprinkling of freckles and deep blue eyes.  Still a bit gawky in limb, 
boyish hips, but with fine, long-fingered hands. 

I stood and kissed the girl as gently as I could imagine, not holding 
her at all, just resting my hands on her upper arms very lightly.  She 
was very shy, but clearly eager, and suddenly the kiss became "real," 
her tongue probing my lips cautiously as Lissa called 10 seconds left.  
I responded with minimal aggression but in kind, letting my tongue meet 
hers and find her lips beyond, ever so briefly, before the other girl 
called time.

"Whoa," Marie said, quietly, returning to her spot.

"How was it?" Lissa asked, insistently.  

Marie just shook her head.  "It wasn't your dare," she finally teased 
her friend.  "Find out for yourself."

Lissa sat back on her heels, disappointed in Marie's reticence, and 
said, "OK, my turn."

"Well, you got a dare too," Marie said, pleasantly, confidently.  Weird 
how a single kiss can change the demeanor of a girl, I thought.

"Which is?" asked Lissa.

Marie read, "Choose the oldest member of the opposite sex and make out 
with them for 30 seconds while the group watches. "

"Hmm, looks like you get to find out what you were hoping for," teased 
Marie. 

Lissa looked toward Frank, as if seeking his approval.  He, of course, 
glanced toward Denise.  She just mouthed, silently, "be nice."
  
As the two moved together I reflected on the odd paradoxes of Lissa's 
current situation.  In some respects she'd definitely shed her 
innocence over the last several weeks, yet despite that, this was to be 
her first kiss in the whole period.  If only Frank knew that only a few 
days ago, in that same towel getup she wore at that moment, she'd been 
eagerly masturbating across the table from her uncle Jason, with her 
mother's approval - old Frank would have been less tentative, I daresay.

As it was, I suspect the kiss was actually a bit more chaste than the 
one Marie and I had exchanged, since that one had depended on Marie's 
initiative and I didn't see any indication that Lissa had dared the 
same initiative with Frank.  Ah well, the game was young, after all.

"So how was it?" asked Marie, after she'd called time.

"You didn't tell ME," Lissa pointed out.  Marie just grinned.

I noticed that Frank sat and crossed a leg almost immediately.  So, 
regardless of how intense it'd been, he'd managed to start a boner 
while locked with the girl - I suspect I would have too, if only 
because of the knowledge that she wore only the towel to cover her.  I 
wondered if either Denise or Marie noticed, but it seemed not.

It was now Marie's turn.  She drew a truth, and the question was:  "How 
did you discover masturbation? At what age and what was your first 
technique? " 

"Sure seems like I get a lot of embarrassing questions," she observed.  
But she made no effort to get out of answering, and gave what seemed a 
pretty honest effort, despite her shyness, quiet voice, and not meeting 
anyone's gaze.  Taking out some of the awkward pauses, this is what she 
said:

"Like three years ago, I was eleven, I found this dirty magazine in our 
attic.  I think it was my dad's.  Anyway it had like not just pictures 
but these stories, I guess there were like letters but I doubt they're 
true.  But it was the first time I really thought about sex as 
something where I might be doing it.  As opposed to just like knowing 
what sex is and that other people do it, I mean.  So a couple of 
letters mentioned, like, masturbation or playing with yourself and 
somehow I decided to give it a try.  There was one that described in 
detail a woman putting her hands down and how she touched herself lying 
back on her bed, so I just like got naked and had the magazine beside 
me and tried to follow along.  You know, like, rubbing myself with my 
hands and slipping my fingers in just a little and like that.  And then 
once I figured out what the clit was I... I was hooked."

"Wow," said Lissa.

Marie smiled shyly, but with a more confident glow than I'd have 
expected - definitely I began to suspect we had yet another young woman 
with exhibitionistic tendencies on our hands.  In any event, all the 
rest of us refrained from embarrassing her further by making comments, 
but Marie seemed almost proud to have told her little tale.

It was Frank's turn, then.  Marie snapped out of her mini-trance and 
pulled up the following dare:  "Select a random person of the opposite 
sex.  Have them stand in front of you with their legs spread and you 
must kneel down, get your lips as close as possible to their groin 
without touching, and hold there for 2 minutes.  If you accidentally 
make contact, then they can choose:  a) temporarily remove a piece of 
their own clothing and let you try again or b) randomly select a 
different member of the opposite sex for you to try on." 

The girls seemed to find this one weirdly fascinating, and quickly used 
the randomizer on the website to determine that the person he should 
attempt this with would be Lissa.  Lissa immediately protested she 
wasn't "dressed quite right" for this dare.  But Marie insisted that it 
was just a matter of holding the towel in place.  So finally Lissa 
stood, ankles about two and half feet apart, with one hand wrapped 
around to her butt and holding the towel tightly against her groin, 
which caused it to poof out a bit at the open side, thus revealing to 
me the full length of her naked flank from thigh to ribcage, but I 
don't think either she or Frank were aware of this as they worked to 
complete the dare.

To see Frank kneeling before the curly black-haired young princess was 
almost like gazing at an allegorical renaissance painting, but as he 
leaned in with his slightly pursed lips, and Marie began her two minute 
countdown, the milieu took the erotic overtones the dare clearly 
intended.  Lissa looked down with an inscrutable expression on her face, 
while Frank closed his eyes and became very still.  His lips were 
indeed close to the cream-colored terry cloth of the towel that was 
held tautly to the girl's groin, and I swear I could make out the bulge 
of Lissa's left labia, "cameltoe" style.

But either Lissa or Frank moved, and Lissa suddenly almost screeched 
and said "he touched!"  And backed away.  "Well, I'm definitely not 
taking something off and doing it again.  So it has to be someone 
else."

"Sure you didn't move on purpose?" queried Marie looking skeptically at 
her friend.

Lissa shook her head vehemently.  So Marie shrugged, and clicked 
something on the laptop.  "The next person is Denise," she said.

So Lissa knelt back in her normal spot, clearly relieved, and Denise 
shrugged and stood in her daughter's former spot.  Because she was 
wearing fairly tight jeans, there was no debate about the adequacy of 
the "target" as Marie was calling it. 

So the countdown began again, and this time, I suspect because Denise 
was less nervous and/or more cooperative, the event went off without a 
hitch, for the full two minutes.

Somewhat sheepishly, the two of them returned to the couch, and then it 
was Denise's turn.  Marie read the a dare:  "If you are male, display 
your penis and allow another player to cover it in butter before they 
start to nibble and lick it clean. If you are female, choose a guy to 
do the above. If there are no guys around, take another dare."  She 
giggled as she read this.

"I don't think that's quite R-rated," commented Lissa.

"I'd have to agree," said Denise, but with a weird tone of wistful 
lustiness.  I realized she'd probably rather liked the idea.  But 
consensus required a new dare to be chosen.

"Use another (clothed) partner to demonstrate your favorite sexual 
position. Tell the group why this is your favorite."  

Marie added, "I think we should pick the partner randomly."

Lissa agreed, and it was determined that Frank was to be the partner.  
Then Denise said, almost shyly, that her favorite position was doggy 
style, and so she got on her hands an knees and Frank gamely got behind 
her, and then Marie insisted, "so why is this your favorite?"

"Uh... just feels good, I guess," Denise said.  I wondered if she'd 
chosen it because it was in some ways the least erotic to pose when 
clothed, as it didn't really require either person's weight to be on 
the other.

Regardless, it was my turn, and I received a similar dare:  "Choose a 
member of the opposite sex. This player gets to mount and dry hump you 
while everyone else watches. Keep grinding, nice and slow for the 
remainder of your turn." 

This was read as requiring a woman-on-top position, so the randomizer 
was again invoked and the person chosen was Marie.  

"So, I, like, have to do this?" she asked, but she was clearly resigned, 
as she'd already stood up.  "I guess you got lucky it wasn't you, Lissa 
- would have been a bit awkward with just that towel, huh?"

Lissa laughed.  

"Lie down on your back, Jason," Marie she commanded.  So I did that, 
and girl came over and straddled me on her knees, still not touching.  

"I don't really know how this is supposed to work," she giggled, 
blushing, with her hair falling in her eyes.  "I'm supposed to, like, 
touch?"

"Not if you don't want to, hun," Denise said, sensing her discomfiture.

"But that's what the dare says," said Lissa.

"But we made a rule no touching unless everyone agreed," said Marie.

"That's true," I agreed, and Marie looked toward me, almost searchingly 
with those blue eyes.  As if asking, silently, "do you WANT me to touch 
you?"

I just nodded, ever so minimally, but Denise reassured, too, saying, 
"Marie, you only do what you're comfortable with."

"Yeah you can just kind of squat like that and thrash around if you 
want," admitted Lissa, backing off the peer pressure.

So Marie wiggled awkwardly for about half a minute when another debate 
started as to how long a "turn" was and it was decided it was no more 
than about 3 minutes.  So Lissa belatedly started timing the event, but 
then as Lissa called one minute left, Marie met my eyes again and 
seemed to get a burst of courage (or curiosity, I suppose) and suddenly 
lowered herself fully onto my groin and began humping much more 
convincingly and in earnest.

"Woohoo!" cheered Lissa.  "Ridem cowgirl," she joked.

Marie laughed, squirmed, and I felt the stirrings of the erection I had 
so gallantly suppressed up to that point in time.  Since I was now 
"commando" under the jeans I wore, and these were not particularly 
tight, there was little to prevent my suddenly hyper-stimulated cock 
from swinging round to full erection, and under the constant, pounding 
it was receiving it was only a matter of seconds, really, once it'd 
started, for it to reach full raging throbberhood.

I honestly think that during her ride, Marie didn't notice the change.  
But it nevertheless was the fact that when she finally "dismounted," 
the denim-covered Quonset hut that now had set up shop at the crotch of 
my jeans was rather difficult to overlook.

Lissa gasped, and Denise remarked, "oh my."  

Then, before I had a chance to sit up, Marie had turned back around, 
following her friend's line-of-sight, and uttered an understated "wow" 
in a remarkably soft yet adult-sounding voice.  And then with relief I 
managed to sit up, exchanged a glance of male discomfiture with Frank, 
and the game went on.

Chapter 23.  Look at That.

It was Lissa's turn, and Marie pulled up a dare:  "The group chooses a 
member of the opposite sex. You must drop their pants, then they will 
drop yours.  You must both then passionately kiss for 15 seconds before 
refastening the drawers of each other." 

"But I'm not wearing pants," she immediately objected.

"Maybe they should drop your towel," suggested Marie, challengingly.  
"Let's see who the other victim is," she continued, enthusiastically, 
and she ran the randomizer on the website, selecting Frank.

"Uh, we could just leave the pant-dropping part out of it," suggested 
Denise, providing a maternal dose of her to-be-expected voice of 
moderation.

"Then it's just another kiss," said Marie.  "And you already kissed 
Frank.  BORing."

"How about give me a different dare, then," said Lissa, cooperatively.

"Um, OK," Marie assented.  And read, "Take a trip to a local fast food 
restaurant. Someone must drive and you must wear nothing but a shirt. 
The group must buy you what you want for doing this." 

"No dares out of the house," she immediately followed up, quoting our 
rules.  And so she tried yet again:  "Whisper something erotic to each 
member of the opposite sex in the group. Afterwards, have the group 
honestly answer if it was arousing in any way." 

Lissa made a strange face, and agreed to try it.  She stood and leaned 
over Frank's ear first.  None of us could make out what she said.  Then 
she came over and whispered in mine.  "You wouldn't believe how wet my 
pussy is, FINN," she hissed softly.  

"What did she say?" Marie begged each of us to tell.  But Lissa refused, 
saying it was secret, of course.

I doubted she'd whispered the same thing to Frank as she had to me - I 
rather hoped not, anyway.  But both Frank and I agreed she'd been 
successfully erotic.  So we moved on to Marie's turn.

The girl received the following dare:  "Start with yourself and assign 
every player to your left a number. Begin with 1, 2, 3,... and count up 
until the last player. (You will be number one.)  Now randomize 1- the 
total number of players. When the number is selected, all players LOWER 
than that number must take turns removing their underwear. This is done 
by passing a blanket or sheet around, and then hiding under the cover 
while you remove the undies.  Afterwards, gather all of the removed 
undies and throw them in the trash. No fair recovering them!"

"Kinda complicated," mused Lissa.  But the group decided to give it a 
try.

The randomizer indicated three - which meant that Marie, Frank, and 
Denise were obligated to remove their underwear.  The group did decide 
that the underwear would be put in the pile rather than the trash, but 
otherwise everyone seemed to feel it was a good dare.

The handy blanket was pulled off the back of the couch, and Marie began 
her effort.  Watching the expressions of the three persons' faces was 
entertaining, as they struggled with the slightly-too-small blanket to 
drop their pants, each in turn, remove their underwear, and replace 
their pants, but it was eventually managed, and finally Marie's cream-
colored cotton panties with bluish stripes, Frank's generic looking 
white briefs, and Denise's silky looking emerald-green thong were piled 
chaotically on the "discard pile" - as Lissa at dubbed it.

It was then Frank's turn, and Marie read the following dare:  "Choose 
one opposite sex person to go into a closet or room. You must let this 
person take off as much of your clothes as they can, using only their 
teeth, for 2 minutes."

"No dares to be done in private," Lissa reminded us.

"Well, I could do it right here," volunteered Frank, waggling his 
eyebrows lasciviously.

The girls laughed, but Marie said softly but firmly, "seems a little 
too weird."

"If he did me, he'd easily get me naked," observed Lissa - whether with 
anticipation or worry was not clear.

"If you girls are uncomfortable, pick a different dare," Frank said in 
a more conciliatory tone.

Without comment, Marie clicked the dare button on the website.  "The 
lights will be turned off and you will be blindfolded and stood in the 
middle of the group. One by one each group member will kiss you. You 
guess who. If wrong the kisser will remove one article of your clothing. 
Game continues until you have guessed everyone correctly."

"Let's try this one," she added.

Because of his tallness relative to all three of the women present, we 
had Frank kneel in the center of the room, and Marie carefully but 
quite thoroughly attached the bandanna Denise had brought out earlier 
around his forehead and eyes, blocking his view.

Once she was confident he could see nothing, she went back to the 
laptop and wordlessly ran the randomizer and then with a finger mimed a 
spinner-like motion, then pointed to Lissa.

Equally silently, Lissa stood, and using both hands to restrain the 
loose drapage of her towel, she leaned in such a way as to not touch 
Frank in any way except with her lips, and she gently but entirely 
chastely kissed his lips for about 5 seconds.

Then she leaned back up, and I (as the only male, I'd been designated 
temporary "announcer" as Marie had put it) asked him, "Who was it?"

Frank said, "Lissa."

Lissa mimed a fist slamming down in frustration, but retained her 
silence and backed off and resumed her standard kneeling position at 
the coffee table.  Then Marie ran the random number generator again and 
this time pointed to herself.

She grimaced, and seemed nervous as well.  But Lissa mimed a very 
energetic, aggressive kiss, and raised an eyebrow in a gesture toward 
Denise, trying to convince Marie that the only way she would fool Frank 
would be to mimic the very adult, confident kiss Denise had given Frank 
earlier.  Marie moved to position but suddenly Denise stood up too, and 
moved close, indicating Marie should wait, and grinning 
conspiratorially.

I realized that part of the issue was smell - by both of them leaning 
close at once, he would not be able to judge on the basis of those 
subtle differences of smell we all pick up but are rarely consciously 
aware of.  I thought how sneaky Denise was being, and noted the looks 
of rapt approval she was getting from the girls as she invited them 
into her conspiracy.

Then, instead of having Marie go through with her kiss, Denise 
prevented her at the last minute and gave Frank a very dainty, chaste, 
shy kiss.  She'd realized, of course, that she had a better chance of 
imitating Marie than the other way around, given their relative levels 
of experience.  Marie didn't object, and nothing in the question 
explicitly said there couldn't be some level cooperation among the 
kissers.

And thus Frank guessed wrong.  "Uh, Marie," he hazarded.

"Nope," I pounced.  And then, still wordlessly, Denise reached out and 
pulled his shirt over his head, careful not to dislodge the blindfold.

Then they both leaned in and tried again.  This time Marie did the kiss, 
and tried to imitate the kiss she'd watched Denise do, hoping this time 
Frank would guess Denise, I suppose.  But he must have detected some 
difference, and by process of elimination, announced confidently this 
time, "Marie."  

Of course, that was the end, as with two women eliminated, the last was 
obvious, but Denise gave him a very short but aggressive kiss anyhow, 
just for good measure I suppose.  Then the turn was wrapped up, and, 
shirtless and de-blindfolded, Frank returned to his spot on the couch, 
grinning like a fox in the henhouse.

It was Denise's turn, and she got a truth, "Your entire group of 
players is being held hostage by a man who is holding a gun to your 
head. He will let you and the rest of the players go unharmed, as long 
as you tell him which one member of your party he can kill. (Note: he 
cannot kill your or himself, and you cannot cheat by saying you would 
take the gun from him, etc.) Who would you choose to die?"

"That's a horrible question," she immediately said.  Everyone nodded, 
and we decided to try for a different one.

So Marie then read, "Have you ever looked at porn online?  When was the 
last time you did and what were you looking at.  Give details." 

Denise replied, "oh my."  Then she was quiet a moment, but there were 
no objections from the group and it was clear everyone expected this 
one would be answerable.

So she continued, "Well, definitely.  Mostly I read dirty stories."

"No pictures?" prompted Lissa.

"Well, sometimes," Denise agreed.

"Like, of what?" Marie queried.

"You know, naked guys, people having sex, stuff like that."

The girls grinned at each other.  Then Marie continued, "so, what kind 
of stories?"

Denise played stupid, asking, "what do you mean, what kind?"

"Well, when was the last time you read a dirty story you really liked, 
and what was it?" Lissa suggested.

Denise looked cornered, but her quick glance at Frank told me he was 
the only reason she wasn't being completely open here.  Something made 
her decide to go for it, though, despite his presence.  Some 
reassurance she received from him in their exchanged glance, or a 
challenge from him, or who knows what.

"Well, a few days ago I was reading this story about this group of 
college students, who put together like this club where they do sexual 
dares and tasks for each other to tease each other or tease third 
parties - like flashing fellow students or having sex in semi-public 
places or such like."

I realized she was describing my tease-club story.  And, except for the 
"few days ago" part she was being entirely truthful.  I'm sure Lissa 
recognized it, but she played the innocent, rapt teenager absorbing 
this bit of illicit knowledge regarding her parent's libido.  Marie's 
eyes widened and she said something like "cool."  Frank said nothing, 
but listened, and of course, I kept my mouth shut.

"What was the part of the story that you liked best?" asked Lissa.

"One scene where two of the girls in the story go to a cafe and are 
flashing strangers, like, up their skirts and stuff," she answered, 
breathlessly.

The girls didn't demand any more detail, but it was enjoyable watching 
the gears turn in Marie's head, as it was, at least for her, something 
new - and obviously, food for thought.

It was now my turn, and so Marie hit the website again.  "Select a 
random member of the opposite sex. Go into a private room and then 
completely undress. Once you are naked, masturbate while the other 
person watches for one minute." 

"That seems more than R-rated," protested Denise - the dares were 
supposed to be limited to an R-rating.

We all agreed, so Marie "spun again."  This time, the dare was, "The 
group may choose any other player. You must kiss their cheek and KEEP 
your lips on their cheek for one round. This means you may have to 
participate in any dare that they do."

It was decided to use the random number generator to indicate whom I 
was to kiss, and this indicated that it should be Marie.  So, I got up 
from my position and moved to kneel next to where Marie sat on the 
floor at the coffee table, and put my lips to her cheek.

"Heh that's funny," said Lissa.

"Yeah right," grumbled Marie - but she seemed to be enjoying the 
attention.

Then it was Lissa's turn.  "Find a mirror (preferably a clean one). 
Give yourself a passionate kiss for 10 seconds, using the mirror," was 
her dare.

"That's kind of dumb," she said.  But Marie told her to go ahead and do 
it, so Lissa fetched a hand mirror from her mom's bedroom dresser and 
did her best effort, sliming the mirror with her saliva quite 
enthusiastically.

It was a nice, light, entertaining moment, and then it was Marie's turn.  
I was still puckered up against her cheek, obviously.  "You know, your 
chin tickles," she commented, as she clicked the button on the website.

Denise snickered.

Then she pulled up the dare, which I was able to read as she read it 
out loud, in a rapidly faltering voice as she realized what was being 
requested:  "For the enjoyment of the group, give your best impression 
of the last 15 seconds of a mind blowing orgasm. Include facial 
expressions, heavy breathing, and sounds."

"How can I do this with this... this MAN attached to me?" she protested, 
but realizing no one was going to let her out of it. 

Finally she sort of leaned back and did some whining and grunting, but 
it was pretty understated, and Lissa said, "c'mon, you can do better 
than that.  I think Jason should be the judge of if you're convincing 
or not, since he has the best view."

"Certainly, that's the sort of view a man might typically have in such 
a situation," joked Denise, raunchily.  

Marie was unable to avoid giggling at this, then took a deep breath and 
tried again.

She gave more effort, and, despite my oddly intimate view of the action, 
I decided she was, indeed, pretty convincing, so I gave a wordless 
thumbs up to the action after the requisite time period, and the game 
went on.

For Frank, Marie pulled up the following dare:  "You must be measured 
by a random member of the opposite sex.  Get a soft tape measure (or a 
strip of cloth or paper with quarter inches marked on an edge will 
work).  Go into a separate room, and if you are male, she is to measure 
length and girth (circumference) of your dick.  If you are female, he 
is to measure length of your pussy lips and length of your clit.  
Report back to the group on results." 

"Whoa," she concluded.

"Definitely," agreed Lissa.

"Maybe we should do a different one," suggested Denise.  "Again, it's a 
bit more than R-rated," she added.

"Might be interesting," said Marie, however - to my surprise.

Frank, I noticed, said nothing.  I still had my lips attached to 
Marie's cheek, but I would have been diplomatically silent at this 
juncture, regardless.

"It really seems a little, uh, farther than we should go," Denise said 
again.

But Lissa also seemed fascinated, and said, quite maturely, "really, it 
should be up to Frank, don't you think, mom?"

Denise grimaced, but reluctantly turned to Frank.

He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug.  So Lissa pressed further:  
"C'mon, mom.  It'll be, like, educational.  Me an' Marie have never 
seen one before."  This wasn't entirely true - at least for Lissa, 
given the events of earlier that very same day, with the "nudism" thing 
that had happened.  

Lissa continued her argumentation, adding, "and you're here supervising, 
so it's not like anything weird would happen."

I could see Frank was really quite nervous, but probably more from 
excitement than from discomfort.  Although for any guy, obviously, 
extreme sexual excitement and physical discomfort can tend to end up 
somewhat conflated.

I also realized that Denise was just looking for a way to let it happen 
- she was at least as excited and horny as the two girls, if not a 
great deal more so, but Frank's uninitiated presence was causing her to 
display reticence.

Finally she said, "well, let's see who's supposed to be doing this 
measuring."  

Marie ran the randomizer, and Lissa watched too, and immediately called 
out, "it's Marie!  I'll get the tape measure," and ran from the room, 
her towel billowing suggestively.

"I didn't yet say this could happen," Denise yelled after her, but with 
an apparently quickly fading level of commitment.  She turned to Frank, 
and asked, all seriousness, "tell me honestly - are you OK with this?  
If you have the slightest discomfort or qualm I need you to say so."

Frank was thoughtful for a moment, and said, "I'm much more surprised 
you're willing to let this go ahead.  My concern with this would be 
whether the girls were feeling unfairly compelled to do this - by me or 
by someone else - which would be bad, but it doesn't seem that that is 
the case, I guess."

"Marie, are you OK with this?" Denise asked.

Marie started to nod, then, quite confidently, said, "I think it would 
be VERY interesting."  She giggled.  I had sat back from kissing her 
cheek, as the conversation had turned serious.  

Lissa returned, brandishing Denise's soft fabric tape measure, and 
immediately noted that I'd left my assigned position:  "get back in 
position, you," she admonished me.

I leaned in again to Marie's cheek, muttering, "yes, ma'am."  But 
grinning.

Lissa handed the tape measure to her friend, and immediately commanded 
Frank, "drop the pants."

Somehow, it had become a foregone conclusion that it was going to 
happen, as Denise made no further objections.

Frank sheepishly lowered his jeans, and, having removed his underwear 
earlier, his suddenly liberated cock followed that well-documented 
trajectory that liberated cocks tend to follow during sexually intense 
situations.

"Damn... look at that," said Lissa, under her breath.

Chapter 24.  The Measure of All Things.

Indeed - Frank was not disappointing in terms of endowment, as we all 
fixedly watched man's surprisingly youthful-looking, circumcised penis 
gradually rise and straighten up from its nest of salt-and-pepper curls.

Well, it's bigger than mine, anyhow - I reflected with a weird 
combination jealousy and situationally-induced lust, as I looked at it 
from the corner of my eye - out there beyond my up-close view of 
Marie's cheekbone, nose, lips, eyelashes, and her loose, lovely, gentle 
curls of blonde hair.  I relished imagining the two young girls in our 
company admiring this handsome older man's slightly curving, turgid 
tool.

"So, uh, how do I do this?" asked Marie, with a nervous catch in her 
voice.  She was holding the tape measure nervously in her right hand, 
turning toward where Frank sat nearby on the couch.

"Scoot forward, Frank," Lissa suggested, helpfully - so he did so, 
until he rested on the edge of the couch and his taut ballsac dangled 
freely at the edge of the cushion, below the now thoroughly engorged 
shaft, with its inverted-heart-shaped mushroom top, bananacurving from 
straight out - it formed a tense and gently throbbing indicator of a 
carnal desire that I doubt Frank would've admitted to openly.  Touch me, 
hold me, contain me, it seemed to cry out, in a language more primitive 
and universal than words.

Nevertheless, Frank seemed to be recovering a bit from his ambivalence, 
more likely due to lust than to any kind of tidy resolution of the 
concerns for propriety which seemed to have been flickering in his eyes 
moments earlier - but regardless, he leaned back and spread his legs in 
response to Marie's turning and kneeling in front of him, allowing her 
complete access to his groin.

Marie very tentatively reached out with the tape measure - with a 
laser-like focus derived from equal parts teenage horniness and 
innocent curiosity.  

Leaning over the visibly throbbing member, she stretched the tape 
measure out as if along side it, but before even actually making any 
kind of physical contact, she withdrew her hands with a start.  "It 
moved!" she shrieked, in a high-pitched giggle.

"They do that, sometimes, hun," reassured Denise.

"Heh," Marie grinned sheepishly.  "I can, like, feel the heat of it.  
It's like I could toast a marshmallow."

Lissa giggled in response, and mimed holding out a stick toward a 
campfire, with Frank's tumescent pink log playing the staring role of 
"fire."

Marie reached out, once again, trying to appear confident, but she was 
still moving to try to measure the side of the man's cock, awkwardly.

"Measure along the top, Marie," Denise suggested.  

Lissa was leaning in close too, to get a good view, but I noticed her 
gaze kept flicking back and forth between her friend's face and the 
object of her attention.  I think she was as excited by Marie's 
reactions as she was by what was there to be seen.  I could relate - I 
felt similarly.

Finally overcoming her shyness and awkwardness, Marie succeeded in 
laying the tape measure along the top of Frank's cock, even as it 
jumped a few times at each gentle touch from the girl's fingers.

"Seven and, uh, one quarter inches," read off Marie, in barely a 
whisper.

She quickly took the tape measure away and began to settle back on her 
heels from her kneeling position, but Lissa reminded her, "you have to 
do thickness too."

Marie's mouth made a little "o" of recollection, and she leaned back 
out and reached.  Without too much hesitation she started to wrap the 
soft cloth measure around Frank's penis, right below the flare of the 
glans.

"No, no.  Do the thickest part," urged Lissa.

Marie let go again, and studied the object in front of her for a moment, 
as it gave one of its little leaps of male eagerness that were being 
echoed by my own unseen cock, merely for being the witness of this 
erotic sight.

Marie re-wrapped the tape measure, now around the flange of the glans 
instead, but to my surprise, Denise helpfully offered, "it's probably 
even thicker a little down the, uh, shaft."

Marie carefully slid the loop of plasticized cloth down the shaft, and 
let out a little more, confirming Denise's hypothesis.

"Yeah, you're right," she grunted, and finally read off, "uh, looks 
like, maybe, five and three quarters.  Eheh, more like six, actually.  
Cool.  I like how smooth it feels," she gratuitously allowed her 
fingers to linger, momentarily, on the hot upper surface of Frank's 
poor, yearning, burning-red glans.

She released the entrapping tape and began to pull away, finally 
looking up and briefly meeting Frank's eyes, which were now somewhat 
hazy with a confused fragment of lust.

Then, suddenly, as if just noticing (and actually, maybe she did just 
then notice), "hey, it's wet at the end just a lil' bit."  Without 
asking permission or waiting for this observation to even register in 
the rest our minds, she reached out and just gently touched the shiny, 
sticky-looking droplet that glistened at Frank's noticeably (well, I 
was noticing!) distended cum-hole.

She brought her hand away again, and studied the tiny amount goo now 
coating the very tip of her index finger with a mixture of disgust and 
wide-eyed wonderment.  

"Is that...?" asked Lissa, incoherently, leaning close and looking at 
Marie's finger too.

"It's called pre-cum," Denise finally volunteered after a rather long 
silence, since Frank and I were both speechless.

Both girls nodded as if they fully understood, though I'm not entirely 
certain they did, though I knew Lissa at least had read plenty of 
erotica online and had some passing second-hand knowledge of what it 
was.  I wasn't sure about Marie, but I suspected she was at a 
comparable level of expertise.

Marie started to reflexively wipe her finger off on her pants-leg, but 
got a mischievous glint in her eye, seeing how much Lissa was also 
interested in this substance, and so in a single rapid motion, reached 
out and wiped it on the edge of her friend's towel, instead.

"Hey, gross!" yelled Lissa, leaping up with such rapidity that both 
Frank and I were blessed with just a momentary flash of the girl's 
sparse but dark-haired pussy as the towel she was wearing billowed.

Marie laughed and pointed the finger at her friend, but then, somewhat 
contradictorily, held it to her nose and sniffed it, as if testing to 
see if she'd succeeded in thoroughly removing the disgusting-but-
compelling residue.

Denise, meanwhile, teasingly said to Frank, "you could probably go 
ahead and pull your pants back up now, dear."

Frank looked sheepish, and with some only slight evident discomfort got 
his glowing-in-infrared shaft tucked back into his jeans.  "The game 
must go on," he commented, wryly.

I got his implied point - after that incredible experience, the fact 
that the game would go on seemed almost anticlimactic - but that's the 
sign of a truly wonderful edging experience, right?  A near peak, 
followed by anticlimax, followed by further peak, ad infinitum.  And 
Frank was now fully initiate, even if he still had no actual idea what 
was going on or how deeply the conspiracy ran.

It was Denise's turn, and Marie summoned a truth - doubly anticlimactic.  
The question was, "The person to your left chooses someone who is not 
your boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other/etc.  How much would 
someone have to pay before you would fool around with that person for 
an hour?"

Although at the moment I was still attached to Marie's cheek with my 
lips, I was obviously the "person to her left," and the only logical 
choice for the "someone to be fooled around with" was Frank, so with no 
delay, I gestured in his direction.

Denise hardly hesitated, only making a pointedly lewd gaze at the man's 
recently exposed crotch (and the tumescence still resident there 
beneath the denim of his jeans) and, licking her lips in a kind of 
slow-motion flirtation, said flippantly, "oh, damn... at LEAST a 
dollar."

"Momm!" complained Lissa mockingly, while Marie giggled. 

Frank and I both just sort of chuckled, and the game moved on again.  
At last my round of having to stay attached to Marie's cheek was over, 
so, with mixed regret and relief, I was allowed to return to my seat 
next to Denise.

Marie read the following dare for me:  "You must shave your pubic hair. 
You must then show that you are shaved to other players. If already 
shaved, you must shave your armpits."

"Might be interesting," she commented, but there was a "but" embedded 
in her tone.

"It would take too long," said Lissa, conveying a slight impatience 
with the game.  "Can we get him a different dare?"

No one objected to this suggestion, and so Marie tried again.  "Select 
a member of the opposite sex.  Both of you must now find a mirror, 
preferably a large one. You must make the biggest bare butt prints on 
the mirror that you can, then sign your name on each of them using your 
finger. The prints must remain on the mirror until the next day." 

"What in the world is a 'butt print'?" asked Denise, jaw open.

Marie laughed, "I have no idea."  

"Should we try it?" asked Lissa.

"Seems kind of disgusting," chimed in Denise, again.

The girls were giggling, but nodded in agreement.  Marie suggested, 
"Let's see what the next dare is, and if it's better, we'll use it, if 
not, we try this one."

Without waiting for approval, she "re-spun" the website, and read the 
following:  "The group selects some kind of sauce/cream, like whipped 
cream, ketchup, chocolate sauce.  Allow the player on your left to dab 
this all over your lips until they are covered.  The person on your 
right now gets to select another player from the group that must clean 
your lips off using only their tongue - no lips." 

"Oh yeah, that's a good one," said Lissa.  "And I'm on his left," she 
gave an evil little laugh, and without pause ran off to the kitchen.

I exchanged a glance of helpless enjoyment with my sister, and shortly 
Lissa returned with a jar of chocolate sauce, like for topping ice 
cream.  "Sit still," she admonished, bending over next to me and 
opening the jar.

With her fingers, she quickly applied a layer of chocolate around my 
lips, very businesslike.  "No licking," she warned, as my tongue tried 
to flick out involuntarily.  I controlled myself.

Then the second part of the dare came, and Denise was to my right, but 
she pointed at Marie - "go ahead and do it random," she said.

Marie asked, "it doesn't say 'opposite sex' - should I include Frank?"

Denise, Lissa and Frank all seemed surprised that Marie would realize 
this herself - and further, be bold enough to suggest it.  Denise gave 
an mischievous grin and shrugged, "why not?"

Frank and I both looked appropriately worried, though his earlier 
comment (or rather, lack of comment) had led me to believe he was 
hardly homophobic, and nor was I, for that matter.  But it might have 
had a bit of awkwardness to it, had it been him, selected.  But it 
wasn't - it was Denise.

Obviously, neither she nor I had any objections, but we both feigned a 
bit of reluctance, since the level of eroticism we'd already arrived at 
over this long weekend was, we both intuited, a bit "unseemly" relative 
to outsiders like Frank or Marie.  Nevertheless, Denise competently and 
efficiently removed the chocolate from my lips with her tongue in a 
matter of moments, once she started.  

"Hmm," she rumbled, sexily.

It was Lissa's turn.  "Switch ALL clothing with the person to your 
right, including (but not limited to) underwear from the opposite sex."

"Should we go into another room to switch?" asked Lissa, looking at me, 
to her right.  Then added, "I think I benefit from this, anyway," she 
laughed.

I laughed too, and finally she jumped up and went into the den, 
gesturing for me to follow.  

I followed, and with almost no shyness, Lissa whipped off the two 
towels she had draped around her and gestured impatiently for me to 
undress.

Seeing no point in being shy or hesitant myself, I also stripped off my 
jeans and shirt and socks, and wrapped the one towel around my waist, 
sarong-style, and put the other on my shoulders cape-wise just as Lissa 
had had it.

Lissa watched me do this, paying special attention to my revealed 
erection for the twenty seconds or so during which it showed.  Then she 
pulled on my far-too-long pants and giggled immediately, realizing that 
unless she held them in place they dropped straight down to her ankles.  
She buttoned up my shirt, nonchalantly leaving several buttons top and 
bottom undone, and looked like a child playing dress up, holding one 
hand to a belt-loop on my dockers to keep them up.

She scooped up my socks and commented, "that towel covers you better 
than I would have expected."  Which was true - the towel, tucked as it 
was around my waist, hid the rigid rod fairly effectively - but I knew 
that if I went through a loss-of-hardness / return-to-hardness cycle 
it'd be poking straight out - only its almost unbearable current 
rigidity held it taut to my lower abdomen under the tight part of the 
towel at my waist.

So, with that, Lissa and I returned to the other room, all smiles and 
easygoing enthusiasm.

The other three took in the somewhat ridiculous sight of Lissa in my 
clothes, and the less ridiculous but mildly incongruous sight of me in 
a towel as if ready for a shower, and all smiled indulgently.

Marie read the following truth question for herself, then:  "Have you 
gotten aroused during any point of this game? If so, when did it occur 
and why?"

She said, fairly quickly, "well, like during the whole game, actually."

"Yes, but some specific moment?" pressed her friend.

"Uh, well, I guess when I was, heh, measuring?" she glanced toward 
Frank involuntarily, and blushed a bit, biting her lip, then looking 
down, self-consciously.

"Perfectly understandable," Denise brightly reassured her.

We all laughed a bit, as the tension quickly relaxed again.  It was 
Frank's turn now, and Marie announced he had a "truth" and then read, 
"Have you ever dated someone simply for the financial benefits they 
could offer you? How did it end up?"

Before Frank could answer, Lissa complained, "that's boring.  Can she 
pull another question?"

Frank just nodded - he'd come to understand that the girls were running 
this show - it was really the only logical way to do such a thing, as 
it allowed them to set their own boundaries and limits.  It was a fun 
ride, anyhow.

So Marie clicked the website and read, "For every member of the 
opposite sex, say if you've ever had erotic dreams that featured them 
and if so, describe them." 

Frank just shook his head, and said he hadn't, but then added, jokingly, 
"I expect that might change, after today's experiences."  He leered, 
pointedly, at the three women in the room.

Denise laughed and the girls grinned.  Marie said, "Kinda boring 
question, but I guess that's the breaks.  Denise is next."

Then she clicked and pulled up a dare, which read, "Pick another player 
and have them tell you what their favorite part of your body is and why.  
You must expose that body part while he/she touches it and describes 
why they like it"

The other player was picked to be Jason - me.

"Pick something interesting," Lissa urged me.

But I experienced a moment of ambivalence amid the sexually charged 
atmosphere, and, feeling oddly compelled to an emotional honesty, too, 
played it safe, saying, "her face."  It was true, though.

I reached out and gently cupped her chin, and stroked her face, and 
very sweetly described what a beautiful face she had, to some awws and 
sighs from the girls and under Frank's rapt, but comfortably 
nonjudgmental gaze.

Then it was my turn.  Marie read a "truth" for me:  "Have you ever 
taken part in a gay or lesbian activity? If so, how old were you at the 
time and who with?" 

So I told the gathering about the time when I'd been sixteen, and at a 
summer camp I had had a strange boy-crush on a fellow teenage guy at 
the camp, an athletic kid named Steve, with his wrestler's physique and 
exotic Filipino background.  We had ended up engaging in acts of mutual 
masturbation.  I didn't mention the role pot and alcohol played in this, 
however.

"So do you regret it?" asked my sister.

"No, not at all.  It's not really my thing, but I always keep an open 
mind."

She arched her eyebrows at me, flirtatiously.  We all looked toward 
Marie for the next turn.

For Lissa, Marie pulled up a dare Frank had done earlier:  "Select a 
random person of the opposite sex.  Have them stand in front of you 
with their legs spread and you must kneel down, get your lips as close 
as possible to their groin without touching, and hold there for 2 
minutes.  If you accidentally make contact, then they can choose:  a) 
temporarily remove a piece of their own clothing and let you try again 
or b) randomly select a different member of the opposite sex for you to 
try on." 

Lissa pointed out that Frank already had this dare, and lamely 
protested that we shouldn't have "repeat" dares, but Marie argued that 
as long as it didn't involve exactly the same people, it should be fine.

So Marie ran the random number generator and I was indicated to be the 
one Lissa had to kneel down in front of.  Of course, now it was me in 
the towel, not Lissa.  The girls insisted I hold the towel tightly to 
my groin as Lissa had earlier, which caused the lump of my upright cock 
to show pretty prominently.

Lissa got on her knees and leaned in, and I stood as still as possible, 
while Marie timed us and watched for how her friend did at the task, 
and despite the occasional throb in my groin and the slight wavering 
with each breath that happened to Lissa, I didn't feel any lips making 
contact with the terry cloth that covered my dick, and soon the two 
minutes were up.

So then it was Marie's turn, and we got another repeat:  "You must be 
measured by a random member of the opposite sex.  Get a soft tape 
measure (or a strip of cloth or paper with quarter inches marked on an 
edge will work).  Go into a separate room, and if you are male, she is 
to measure length and girth (circumference) of your dick.  If you are 
female, he is to measure length of your pussy lips and length of your 
clit.  Report back to the group on results." 

It was obvious that Marie suddenly regretted her immediately prior 
insistence that "repeat" dares were OK - as she was now in the hot seat, 
so to speak.

Lissa elbowed in on her friend excitedly, and ran the randomizer, and 
said that I was to be the one to do the measuring.  She picked up the 
tape measure from where it had been resting on the coffee table and 
tossed it to me, and patted Marie's shoulder with mock sympathy, saying, 
"you go, girl."

I was actually surprised that Marie wasn't putting up more of a fight - 
she didn't even attempt a formulaic protest, but simply shrugged, a 
little nervously of course, and pulled down her jeans and sat on the 
recliner that was behind the two girls.

"Take them off all the way so you can spread your legs properly," 
insisted Lissa, with a serious tone, meanwhile, turning to me, she said, 
"C'mon, Jason.  Don't tell me YOU're shy."  She giggled.

Marie sighed and slipped the pants from her ankles and assumed a 
position perched upright on the edge of the cushion of the recliner.

Lissa was definitely enjoying managing this situation:  "lean back more, 
like Frank did," she urged.

So then I got on my knees between the beautiful young girl's legs and 
readied the tape measure, as Marie leaned back under her friend's 
detailed instructions, staring down at me with what could have been 
either sheer terror or pure lust - or some weird combination.

Because she was a "true blonde," Marie's bush looked much sparser than 
Lissa's, though it probably was actually about the same density of hair.  
But her sweet pink lips were plainly visible, and even her clit was in 
clear evidence as it peeked out from it's protective hood.  This seemed 
to underscore the fact that horniness was likely at least a substantial 
component of the girl's current emotional state, and I fixed on this 
fact as part of a last-ditch effort to rationalize what it was I was 
doing, so as not to feel quite so criminally guilty about it.

Chapter 25.  

I was trying hard to suppress my overwhelming lust, as I gazed at the 
fourteen-year-old's gorgeous blonde pussy that was on display in front 
of me.  But I was failing, and the towel wrapped awkwardly at my waist 
was suddenly proving radically ill-suited to concealing my lust from my 
fellow truth-or-dare players.

I reached out the extended length of the soft tape measure and, trying 
my best to be suave and calm, lay it down along the length of her 
slightly poofed-out, lovely pinkish cuntlips.  The heat radiating from 
the damp slit was intense, and she flinched slightly at my probably 
cold-seeming fingers' touch.

But within moments I had gently laid the yellowish cloth measure amid 
the golden curls and I read off, "four and three quarters."

Lissa breathed a soft-toned "cool," but Marie was speechless.  I pulled 
away my hands and Lissa added, more firmly, "now her clit."

"It's, uh, not very big," stammered Marie, gazing down at herself self-
consciously.

The tape measure had a metal nub on it's first quarter inch, and I held 
it up to Lissa's cooperative scrutiny, wordlessly inquiring whether she 
thought it would work for the next bit of measuring.  She just nodded, 
equally silent.

I felt clumsy as I reached my fingers to lay the end of the tape 
measure into the top of Marie's cleft along the left side of her 
slightly bulging, shinydamp nubbin, and Marie's sharp intake of breath 
as my hands made contact.

How should I do this?  I wondered.  Only the glistening tip of the 
girl's clitoris was peeking out of the fleshy, reddish, surrounding 
hood.  

As if hearing my thought, Lissa suggested gently, "Marie, hold yourself 
open so he can get in there better - use your hands, that's it."

Marie cooperated and, laying her index fingers on either side of her 
slit on the puffy mons, spread herself accommodatingly, allowing her 
knees to slacken further open as well.  The clit projected itself a 
slight bit further from its hood, but Lissa, seeing the issue I was 
confronting almost instinctively, said to me, "use your finger to pull 
back the hood first, so it's sticking out."

God - knowing the intense sensations I must be causing the young woman 
had my own heart leaping wildly, as if in sympathy.  I pressed my 
middle finger to the spot above the clitoris that I knew from some 
experience would pull back the hood and cause the clit to fully distend.  
Then I lay the tip of the tape measure in along it and the bright pink 
tip only reached the slightly arched end of the curve of the metal nub 
at the tape's end.  "One quarter inch, maybe three eighths," I read, in 
a voice not much louder than a sigh.

I could feel the reflexive thrusting motion of Marie's pelvis in 
response to the invasion of my fingers and the no-doubt overwhelming 
sexual intensity of her being exposed to us all, but she was clearly 
trying to suppress giving into her urges.

Part of me desperately wanted to tweak her little knob and force her to 
surrender to these urges, but I knew that would be unfair, and, however 
much she might like it and even be yearning for it, it could lead to 
regrets farther down the road.  And the image of me simply diving down 
and sucking that delicious looking clit between my lips persisted in my 
mind vividly, even after I withdrew my hands, and Marie, with a clear 
combination of regret and relief, removed her own hands and allowed her 
knees to fall back together.

The intensity of the moment was past.  I think Denise made some effort 
at small talk, and to keep the game going, but I don't recall what she 
said.

Lissa at last helped Marie to stand and handed her her pants to pull 
back on, though the girl almost seemed reluctant to cover herself again.  
A born exhibitionist, I exulted to myself, seeing this minor display of 
emotion on the lovely young woman's face.

I returned to my own seat, and only then became conscious of the degree 
to which my own arousal was now flagrantly tenting the suddenly much-
too-small towel around my waist.  Given what I'd just subjected Marie 
to, however, I felt like it would be unfair of me to display any degree 
of embarrassment over this - so I gave a quiet sigh to myself and 
pretended it wasn't there, but Denise gave me no respite, and catching 
my gaze, did one of her Mr Spock raised eyebrow things and looked 
pointedly at the turgid throbber, grinning mischievously. 

Finally, we decided to move on, and it was Frank's turn.  Lissa, 
impatient with Marie's dazed-like demeanor, operated the website, and 
read the following dare:  "Have a random member of the group pick two 
items of clothing that you take off and stand in the front of a window 
(no shades or drapes!) for 30 seconds."

Well, at this point, Frank was wearing only a t-shirt and jeans - no 
underwear, so it was evident that his would lead to his being naked.  
As I expected, Denise said, "I'm not sure about the standing in front 
of the window thing," in her usual cautionary tone.

I felt a need to reinforce her on this one, as it seemed too likely to 
result in outside observation of this increasingly kinky group 
interaction.  So, I added, "we have a rule against outside dares."

But, as I've mentioned before, the girls were clearly in charge, and 
Lissa immediately protested - "it's not like it's REALLY outside."

Marie, recovered somewhat from her earlier daze, seconded her friend, 
"I think it's a good dare."

"Well, maybe one of the back windows," hazarded Denise.

"There's no fun in that - we all know that no one can see in the back 
windows," complained Lissa.  "Here, this window," she suggested 
enthusiastically, jumping up and pulling back the drapes on the bay 
window right behind her that displayed the living room to the street.  
It was dusk outside, and the lights on inside would mean there would be 
a good chance that if someone happened to be looking toward the house, 
Frank would be seen.

Denise sighed, but had a finally argument against the idea: "well, keep 
in mind - would you do the dare, if the it was yours and not Frank's?"

If this was supposed to somehow dissuade the girls, Denise was in for a 
shock, I knew immediately.  And Lissa merely grinned widely and said, 
with a perfect tone of insolence, "well, duh."

Denise didn't show her dismay, though.  She just turned to the other 
girl and prompted, "Marie?"

She nodded and said yes, too.  Denise finally capitulated.  "Frank?  
Are you OK with this?" she asked, thusly giving her own assent.

Frank, per his usual nonchalance, simply shrugged and smiled.  "Sure - 
whatever," he said softly.

"Well, it's a dare, then," concluded Lissa, triumphantly.

Frank stood and pulled off his t-shirt and, more slowly, dropped his 
jeans and stepped out of them.  Meanwhile, Lissa, still struggling to 
hold up my dockers by one beltloop, managed to pull the drapes halfway 
open.

"Make him stand up in the window seat," suggested Marie.  Lissa looked 
at her friend with some surprise, but enthusiastically agreed this was 
an excellent idea.

Frank's cock had hopped back to a state of full rigidity within a few 
seconds of his exposure, and stood out at an impressive 90 degree angle 
from his groin.  But gamely, he climbed unhesitatingly up to the window 
seat.  Playfully, however, he then stood pointedly facing the room.

"No, no, you have to face the street," Lissa insisted, but laughing, 
realizing he was teasing.  "Marie - start timing 30 seconds."

"OK, clock starts... now." said Marie.  But then she added, "I think he 
should stand sideways to the window."

"Oh, good idea," agreed her friend.  "Heh, better profile," she giggled, 
as Frank complied with the suggestion.

The time went by quickly, and one car went by with that muffled 
squelching sound tires make on snowy streets.

"You think they saw?" asked Denise, worriedly.

Lissa, who'd been looking out the window from the side, shook her head.  
"I doubt it," she shrugged.

"Time!" announced Marie.  Frank quickly hopped down and wordlessly 
pulled his pants back on, and reinserted himself into his t-shirt.

"Mom's turn," said Lissa, and Marie clicked the website, and got a dare.  
"Choose a player of the opposite sex. Start chewing gum. After every 
round using only your mouth pass the gum to the other person and keep 
going until it loses its flavor."

"That's kind of dull," commented Lissa.

"Mostly, it'll take too long," agreed Marie.  "Can we pick another 
dare?" she directed toward Denise.

Denise commented, wryly, "what's the hurry?" but she let the girls 
select a different dare:  "Strip. Choose 1 member of the group, and 
they must strip too. Give them a lapdance, rubbing your butt completely 
over their lap, making sure to make lots of contact. You may not dress 
again for the rest of the game, but the other player can."

"Oh, that's a much better dare," Lissa concluded.

I couldn't tell if Denise was genuinely concerned at this or not.  I 
guessed not.  "How long is the lap dance?" she queried, finally, after 
a few token protests.

"Hmm, let's say, a minute?" suggested Marie.  Lissa thought this was 
good.  "Who gets the lapdance?" she then asked.

"It doesn't actually say it has to be someone of the opposite sex," I 
pointed out, with a smirk.

The girls actually exchanged a look of slight alarm, at this, but then 
agreed this appeared to be the case.  Gamely, Marie ran the randomizer 
on all four of us - me, Lissa, Marie and Frank.

The randomizer gave us a 1, however - which meant me.

This seemed to be crossing a line, entering new territory: both of us 
being naked, with the clause in the dare stipulating "lots of contact."  
But the girls were clearly delighted at the prospect of watching this, 
and I knew both Denise and I harbored deep yearnings that would hardly 
make this a chore for either of us.

Denise almost shyly pulled off her remaining clothing, while I fairly 
rapidly removed the two towels that were my only covering.

She moved to stand in front of me, lovely puffy upturned breasts and 
shameless almost completely shaved pussy on view.  "This chair isn't 
very good for a lapdance," she commented - which was true, as the arms 
were high on either side of me.

"Sit on the coffee table, Jason," Lissa suggested immediately - so I 
did.  

"We need some music if this is gonna be a good lapdance," Marie chimed 
in.  Lissa jumped up and turned on the stereo, choosing an old Sade CD 
I knew my sister liked immediately and popping it in.

"Should this be, uh, facing him or back to him?" asked Denise, standing 
over me awkwardly.  "The dare implies back to him."

"Uh... half and half, how about?" Marie said.  "Thirty seconds of each.  
I'll start timing when you start."

I had sat on the sturdy coffee table and leaned back, and reflected 
that I'd never actually received a lap dance before.  And here, my 
first one was being delivered by my gorgeous, naked sister.  While her 
neighbor, daughter and daughter's friend watched.  Given that I'd been 
edging myself incessantly for days on end, and subjecting myself to a 
high state of sexual tension, it suddenly occurred to me that there was 
no small risk that I'd end up splattering my sister's ass with an 
inconsiderate helping of man-goo.

To the soothing, sexy sounds of Sade's crooning, my sister turned 
around and lowered herself toward my lap facing away from me, and began 
to bump and grind slowly to the music's rhythm.  I was transfixed, and 
without actually seeing them, I sensed the gazes of our three audience 
members on the tableau, too.

At first she was tentative, and the only contact her broad, cafe-mocha-
colored butt made with my cock was accidental.  She allowed the inside 
of her thighs to clamp and rest against the outsides of mine 
periodically.

Shortly, I heard Lissa say in an offhanded manner to her friend, 
"didn't the dare say 'lots of contact'?  Should we stop the timer?"

Denise got the hint, and began to grind in earnest - and more naturally, 
I thought, too.  It was all I could do to not reach out and cup her 
breasts, and it was equally difficult to not begin humping my cock up 
against the inconsistent stimulus - but I did.  I felt that given the 
audience and context, I should try to stay as passive as possible.

Despite this, by the time the first 30 seconds were up and Marie 
announced that Denise could turn around, everyone got a view of the 
clear droplet of precum that had emerged from my dick, and it struck me 
that my sister was gazing at my cockhead raptly as she lowered herself 
back down to straddle my lap and began to grind against the base of my 
shaft.

Chapter 26.  Hello?

There I was, staring at my sister's lovely conical areolae and large 
hard nipples bobbing in front of my face, while she ground her pussy 
and in a slow lap dance against my thighs and throbbing cock, now 
completely lacking any kind of inhibition.  Meanwhile her neighbor 
Frank was watching, and her daughter Lissa stared on from the left 
while Lissa's friend Marie gazed on from the right.

I would have forgiven myself if I'd shot my load right then, but I 
didn't.  Marie began counting down the end of Denise's one minute lap 
dance, "ten, nine..." 

I rolled my eyes, and I could tell Denise was going to have a difficult 
time stopping, too.  The build up for this had been days long, if not 
weeks, and both of us wanted relief, I'm sure.  But it wasn't to happen.

Marie concluded her countdown and, with evident reluctance, Denise 
stood and returned to her spot on the couch, suddenly appearing 
slightly embarrassed by the wantonness she'd just displayed.  Lissa 
underscored this by pointing out the slightly sticky-looking residue of 
her mother's pussy juices on my shaft, where she'd just been riding me, 
and then Marie, not to be outdone, pointed out the precum that was 
leaking out of my cockhead. 

Both girls giggled, but then Marie pointed out that it was it was OK 
for me to put my towel back on, although she also added "Denise has to 
stay naked now, according to that dare."  I wrapped my towel around me, 
but my covering was to be short lived - it was my turn.

Marie returned to the laptop and pulled up a new item for me - a dare.  
She read, "Strip and lay on your back, arms down at your side and feet 
together. The group now makes a line of something, like whipped cream 
or syrup, from your neck to your crotch.  Now a random person in the 
group starts at your neck and clean you off, top to bottom, using only 
their mouth."

"We can use the chocolate sauce," she added.

"Yeah.  We should select a person randomly to put it on him.  C'mon, 
lie down, Jason," Lissa contributed.  "And get those towels off again," 
she laughed.

Both girls were clearly quite excited by the trajectory our little game 
was taking, and although I knew enough about Lissa's character at this 
point not to be surprised in the least, Marie's enthusiastic 
participation was more shocking - her earlier reticence had almost 
completely disappeared.

I lay on my back, naked, on the floor, my throbbing erection prominent 
and uninterested in subtlety.  Marie ran the random number generator on 
the website and announced that she herself would be putting the 
chocolate on, then they would run it again to see who would be licking 
it off.

"What if it's Frank," asked Lissa, giggling.

Marie grinned, and looked at Frank, who just shrugged - he'd been 
relegated to a spectator role for the last few minutes but he was still 
evidently OK with the proceedings, if not entirely believing them.

"We'll see," Lissa said, and gestured for her friend to apply the line 
of chocolate sauce to me.

Marie knelt beside me and with no hesitation dipped a finger into the 
jar and spread a line from under my chin to the middle of my chest.  

"Make it thicker," encouraged Lissa.

So Marie dipped her finger again, and applied another line.  Then a few 
more times, and she worked the line to below my navel.  I could see her 
look of concentration, as she brought the line short of where the head 
of my dick hovered over my lower abdomen, but then she paused.  Marie 
turned to her friend, and it occurred to me that the rest of us, Frank, 
Denise and I, had become almost mannequins in the girls' game - little 
more.

"It says 'crotch' - should I put it onto his, uh...?" she asked, but 
not finished the question with the required vocabulary word, in any of 
its potential variants.

Lissa nevertheless understood perfectly.  "I think 'crotch' means down 
to between his legs.  So, if there's, like, an obstacle, I guess you 
have to cover it, huh?"  She giggled again.

Marie grinned and resumed her striping.  She didn't really put it down 
into my nest of pubic curls, but she carefully applied a line down the 
length of my cock, from head to base, and then onto my scrotum and down 
to where the flexible flesh met the smooth bit leading to my anus.  
Clearly, she was exploiting the opportunity to get in a good feel and 
examine the anatomy carefully.

"It kind of shakes," she uttered in a low voice, to no one in 
particular.

"What do you mean?" asked Lissa.

"Like... like when you read in a story, and they say it throbs.  I 
understand now."

Lissa gave her friend a look of envy, as if she wished their places 
were switched.

Marie saw this, and so suggested, "why don't you see who's going to be 
licking this off."

Lissa ran the randomizer on the website, and very quickly said, "oh my 
god."

"What?" asked Marie and Denise in unison, thinking something was wrong.

"Uh, no, it's just that, it came up a one - that's me, if you count 
clockwise like we do."

Marie laughed, "ooh, I'll put an extra glob right here, then."  With 
that, she deposited an additional dollop of chocolate sauce on the head 
of my dick, almost completely covering it.

Lissa came over to my side where I lay on the floor and gazed down at 
her best friend's handiwork.  She shook her head, not as if refusing, 
but as if she couldn't believe her situation.  None of us could.

Denise had been surprisingly quiet, but seeing this gesture of her 
daughter's she asked, worriedly, "you don't have to do this, hun, if 
you're not OK with it."

Lissa looked up and her look of concern changed back to her 
characteristic wide, wry grin.  "Oh, it's cool.  I really just can't 
believe this is happening."

And with that, without any more words or hesitation, she bent down and 
began to lick the chocolate from my throat.

"At least it tastes good," she muttered, using one hand to keep her 
hair from getting into the sticky mess.

Marie watched raptly as, over the next two minutes, Lissa worked her 
way down to my navel.  "It tastes kinda funny down here in the navel," 
she complained.

But she kept on, and daintily she held my shaft with forefinger and 
thumb, at its narrowest spot right below the glans, to lick the stripe 
on my abdomen that Marie had placed below it.  And soon enough she was 
confronted with the fact that she could wait no longer.  

She paused and looked around at the group, quizzically.

"Go for it," Marie encouraged her.

So finally she bent down and began to lick the chocolate from my shaft, 
and, much to my surprise, she briefly took the head into her mouth 
completely and ran the tip of her tongue through the groove of the tip 
and base of the glans.

I couldn't help but moan slightly, with a sharp intake of breath - it 
was so exquisite.

Lissa lifted her head and met my eyes, a little bit of chocolate 
smeared on her upper lip.  "Sorry," she said, softly.

"Oh god, don't be sorry, Lissa," I said.

"You're not hurting him, hun," Denise said gently.  "But be careful not 
use your teeth."

Lissa gave a wan smile, and bent down again and, eerily holding her 
mother's gaze, she made an 'O' of her lips and took my cockhead into 
her mouth again.  Another flick of the tongue, and the she lifted up.

"Like that?" she queried, turning to me to make it clear it was me who 
she was asking.

I just nodded stupidly.

Lissa seemed to enjoy teasing me in this way, but she also sensed, I 
think, how close to the edge I was, and she seemed to instinctively 
want to avoid a climax - at least not into her mouth.  So she didn't do 
the in-the-mouth thing again, but resumed her more conventional licking, 
now working down the shaft toward my balls.

Although the feelings were intense, by itself her activity was unlikely 
to make me shoot my load.  Finally, she had finished the bit under the 
scrotum and sat back up to survey her results.

"You missed a spot," teased Marie, indicating with her finger a smear 
of chocolate near the base of my shaft.

Lissa obligingly leaned over, pulling her hair back out of her face, 
and gave a few more carefully placed licks.

"OK, all done," she finally announced.

And returned to her spot.  It was over.  I got back up and, avoiding 
meeting the gaze of Frank or Denise, put my towel back around my waist 
(though I didn't quite see the point, at this juncture), and sat down.

Marie returned to the laptop at the other end of the coffee table and 
clicked the button for an item for Lissa's turn.  There was a momentary 
tone of solemnity that fell over all of us - somehow the game had 
gotten quite serious, at least at some level.

"It's a truth," announced Marie, the disappointment showing in her 
voice.

"It'll be a good break," said Lissa, almost simultaneously with her 
mother saying something quite similar.  We all laughed.

So Marie read the question,  "What part of your body would you like to 
make bigger? What part of your body would you like to make smaller? 
Why?"

"Hmm," thought Lissa.  "I guess I hope my tits get a little bigger - 
but not too much - I don't want giant honkers."

Marie giggled at this.  

"I can't think of anything I want smaller," she said, finally.

It was now Marie's turn, so she ran the laptop for herself, and Lissa, 
reading over her shoulder next to her, announced it was a dare.  "The 
group gets to pick a person from the opposite sex. You both go into a 
private room and make noises like you are having WILD sex for 1 minute. 
Start out slow, then build up to a BIG finish!"

"Well, we should pick the person randomly," suggested Lissa.  "And 
there's no point in going into another room.  They can do it here."

Marie nodded, taking her upcoming dare seriously.

The randomizer indicated that I was to be her partner in crime, and 
Lissa made Marie come over and sit on the arm of the chair where I sat, 
so we could make our noises.  I'm not sure we did very well.  I was shy 
about seeming too enthusiastic, and Marie was clearly inexperienced and 
overly influenced by locker-room adolescent imitations of internet porn.

But everyone seemed pleased enough by our moaning and carrying on, and 
I liked how toward the end of our minute, Marie suddenly yelped, "yes 
yes yes!"

Then it was Frank's turn.  Marie returned to her spot and read the 
following dare for him:  "You and another volunteer must be completely 
naked. Then, the other members of the group can move you around to an 
awkward position, but without touching each other. You both have to 
stay like this for 3 rounds."

Well, obviously there was no question that the "volunteer" had to be 
randomly selected.  And although the question didn't specify someone of 
the opposite sex, I noticed that Lissa restricted the choices to the 
three women.  The result:  Frank had to do this dare with Marie.

"We need to pick someone in the group to be the 'sculptor,'" Lissa then 
said.

"You go ahead," Denise and I said, almost together, it being clear that 
Lissa was excited to do the honors.

So, Lissa had Marie and Frank strip naked.  Marie seemed not nervous at 
all at this point - things had moved a long way from earlier in the 
afternoon.  

Lissa pondered a few moments as to what pose she'd put her neighbor and 
friend into, before settling on the following:  first, she had Frank 
lie down on his back; then she had Marie get on her hands and knees 
over him, in the classic 69 inversion - so the sides of Marie's knees 
were at Frank's ears, while her palms were down on the carpet on either 
side of his hips.

Marie chuckled softly, "I can't believe you're making me do this.  How 
long do I have to be like this?  Three rounds is a long time."

Lissa laughed at her friend, and joked, "hey, at least you have a good 
view."

Reflexively, Marie looked down at Frank's swollen cock below her, and 
giggled.  "I guess."

"Are you alright, Frank?"  Lissa asked our guest, politely.  

I could see him nodding, before he realized this might not be quite 
visible in his current position.  "Yep, fine," he added.

"Nice view down there, too?" she queried, teasing Marie.

"Lissa!" complained the blonde girl.

"Uh, just fine," laughed Frank.  And the game went on.

Because Marie was stuck as a sculpture with Frank, Lissa took over the 
laptop.  It was Denise's turn.  She got the following dare:  "Randomly 
select a member of the opposite sex.  Have that person find a favorite 
erotic story online - if they need help or suggestions they can consult 
with the group, but theirs is the final choice.  You must read that 
story to the group."

Since Frank was occupied, Lissa suggested it should be me to find 
Denise a story to read.

"This is going to take a long time," complained Marie.

"Are you uncomfortable?" asked Lissa.

"Uh... I'm OK," she relented.

"Should we pick a different dare for me?" said Denise.

It occurred to me that with all that had happened over the last round, 
she may have been hoping for a dare that was more "hands on."  I 
laughed to myself at the state we'd worked ourselves into.

But the point was made moot when suddenly there was a ringing.  It was 
a phone - not the landline, somebody's cell phone.  I saw Denise (still 
naked from her earlier dare) leap up to find hers, but it was hers.  
Then Marie started to move, muttering, "I think that's my phone."

"Stay there," said Lissa, and went to Marie's purse where she'd put it 
down in the den, and came running out with the still ringing phone, 
which she held out to Marie.

"I can't answer the phone like this," the young woman complained.

"Sure you can," insisted Lissa.

Awkwardly, Marie balanced her weight on one hand, and holding the phone 
in the other, pushed the button and answered, "Hello?"

She did indeed look funny, trying to talk on the phone, while she knelt 
naked over Frank's equally naked reclining form, with the tip of his 
cock hovering only half a foot below her chin.

"Oh, uh, hi dad," she said, softly.  And we all saw her eyes 
involuntarily take in the tableau beneath her as she took this suddenly 
even more awkward call.

Chapter 27.  "I think there needs to be some..."

"You going to be here when?" Marie exclaimed into the phone, then 
quickly, "uh, no, it's fine.  Fifteen minutes," she echoed the voice in 
the phone, looking up pointedly at Denise to underscore what was 
suddenly evident - Marie's parents were coming to pick her up.

At this point she sat up, seemingly forgetting that Frank's face was 
between her legs for a second, and therefore surprising both herself 
and him by briefly mashing her crotch against his nose.  She quickly 
looked around with a combination of annoyance and lust, still 
distractedly listening to the phone, and then gingerly managed to crawl 
back away from her position until she was fully disentangled from him.  
Panic in her eyes, she said, "yeah, yeah... we had fun."  She paused, 
and then answered, "just, like, hanging out."

Then another short pause, and lastly, "OK, dad.  See you soon."  She 
clicked the phone off and briefly examined it, like it was suddenly 
radioactive.  

But then she looked around:  everyone was scrambling now, as there was 
no need for her quick clarification.  Still, so that there would be no 
ambiguity, she announced, "my parents are going to be here to pick me 
up in fifteen minutes."

After the initial moments of panic, things settled down a bit once 
everyone started finding their clothes (including missing underwear and 
all that) and were beginning to put them on.

But seeing Frank beginning to put his leg into his briefs, she got a 
mischievous look and said, "wait.  I need a souvenir."

Lissa raised an eyebrow, and Marie gave her friend a sly glance, and 
held up her phone - I realized it had a camera in it.  Frank looked 
embarrassed, and was rendered even more so when Marie, before snapping 
the picture, paused and said, "gee... that, like, went down fast."

She was referring, of course, to the fact that the surprise news and 
subsequent disarray and quickly deflated Frank's stunning erection (and 
mine too, for that matter).  

"Are you sure you, uh, want a picture," he asked, perhaps a bit 
disturbed by the idea that this fourteen-year-old girl would want such 
a lasting record of her recent experience.

"Well, it is, like, the first I got to see up close," she said, coyly.

"She can show her grandkids," joked Lissa, ever the quick one with a 
clever remark.

Frank laughed out loud at that, and seemed to relax.  "And mine too, 
for that matter," he finally said, groping for an appropriately silly 
comeback.

We all laughed at that, but Marie quickly said, "can you make it, uh, 
go up again?  ... smile for the camera," she teased, as if coaxing a 
baby or a pet cat, but looking directly at Frank's naked crotch, rather 
than his face.

"I just want to make sure... can we leave his face out of it, please," 
suggested Denise, already in panties and shirt, but frozen in the midst 
of pulling on her pants.

"Oh sure... I just want a nice close-up, like the view I had a minute 
ago," giggled Marie.  "Don't worry - it's not like I'm REALLY going 
show my grandkids - or anyone else at all.  Except maybe Lissa, of 
course, if she's a good girl," she grinned at her friend, who stuck out 
her tongue back at her.

With that clarified, Frank, Denise and I relaxed further, and Frank 
seemed OK about going ahead with it.  But his cock was only half-mast 
at this point, and he seemed hesitant to use manual stimulation to 
bring himself back to full effect.  

The girls didn't seem to understand the delay, and Marie waited with 
camera-phone at ready, but clearly was not taking any pictures.  So 
Denise finally said, after an awkward, short silence, "Frank, if you 
need to, uh, touch yourself a bit to get it back the way she wants it, 
I'm sure it's OK."

Lissa made a sort of "O" of realization, while Marie giggled.  Frank 
self-consciously gave his smooth cock a few gentle, tickling strokes, 
until it had risen back to just above ninety degrees straight out, and 
the bulbous head was taut and shiny again.  Once he was erect, with the 
attention of all four of us so focused on it, he had no problem keeping 
it that way as he drew his hands away - but not before Marie snapped 
her first picture, which included his fingers lovingly tickling around 
the rim of his glans.  There is often such tenderness in the way people 
touch themselves, I reflected.

She took a few more pictures, examining each as it was taken in the 
phone's small screen, and sharing one with Lissa, who nodded 
approvingly, like a connoisseur.

She took about four pictures.  "OK, that's awesome," she concluded, as 
if announcing the completion of a major collaborative work of art.  She 
snapped her phone shut and was about to put it down on the coffee table.  
But then she paused, and looked speculatively up at Frank's face for a 
minute, meeting his gaze, and then down at her own still-naked form.  
"Uh... do you want a souvenir, too?" she asked - half shy, half brazen.

He said, shrugging, "That's very sweet of you to offer, Marie.  But... 
I don't have a camera."

Marie smiled, and said, "you can use mine - I'll email you."  She 
flipped her phone back open and held it toward him.

Frank looked toward me and Denise, as if for approval.  But we both 
gestured that it was Marie's decision.  So he hesitatingly took the 
camera-phone and said, "so, how do I operate this thing?"

Lissa quickly moved to his side, to show him.  And, I noticed, stealing 
lots of involuntary, close-up glances at his still prominent erection, 
so close beside her.

"How do you want her to sit?" Lissa encouraged.

Frank thought for a moment, but seemed at a loss for words.

Lissa, as was her nature, took charge.  "Oh... I have an idea," she 
gushed.  She had Frank quickly lie down as he had been before, and had 
Marie get over him, as before.  The she made him take "three good 
pics."  

Then, before they got up, Marie insisted Lissa hand the phone back to 
her.  "This is the view I want to remember," she said, in an almost 
religious tone.  Denise and I laughed at the antics.

"Well, we'd really better hurry, now," I suggested, and moved to finish 
dressing myself.

About five hectic minutes passed, but at last, breathing a little 
raggedly, everyone had put their clothes back on.  The laptop was 
stowed, the jar of chocolate sauce restored to the fridge, the towels 
removed to the bathroom.  No evidence remained of our recent 
exhibitionistic debauchery.

We all sat around the living room and stared at each other and laughed 
at our moments of panic. 

"Well, um..." said Marie.

Lissa looked to her friend, encouraging her to say what she wanted to 
say with a wide, friendly grin.  

Marie brushed her pageboy-cut, flaxen-blonde hair from her eyes, and 
seemed to get suddenly emotionally choked up.  "I just wanted to say, 
before my parents get here, that I really had fun today.  So, um... 
thanks."  She smiled shyly at the rest of us, and blinked her blue eyes.

Denise said, carefully, "I hope you understand you probably shouldn't, 
uh, discuss this with your parents?"  She glanced at the phone still 
resting on the coffee table, meaningfully.

"Oh, I understand completely," Marie said, quite seriously.  She 
crossed her arms in front of her modest breasts.  "Not that I think 
they'd believe me," she laughed.

Exhibiting some discomfort as he considered the implications of what 
Denise was saying, Frank said, "I definitely think that - HOPE that - 
this whole thing should be confidential to just us."

We all nodded, almost grimly, affirming what seemed to be a little pact 
between the five us; and just in time - the doorbell rang at that 
moment, and Marie's family burst onto the scene.

There was some small talk, and Denise commented that they were back 
from St Paul earlier than had been expected.  Joan explained that her 
husband had decided to fly back early from his business trip in Orlando, 
and that she and Marie's brother Jeff had left the science fair early 
to get him at the airport and head back home.

And thus it was that a very short 20 minutes after witnessing Marie in 
a naked 69 pose with Frank, we were saying goodbye to her and her 
parents and brother in the most innocuous way imaginable.

Once they were gone, Frank said, indicating some reluctance, "So... I 
suppose the party is over."

Denise and I exchanged glances, and looked toward Lissa - it was her 
decision.

Lissa seemed on the edge of inviting him to stay, but something in her 
made her say, instead, that she agreed that it had been fun, but that 
it had probably been time to stop, anyway.

Frank nodded, almost sadly, and said that he should probably get home 
and get some dinner for himself.

Denise put her hand on his arm, affectionately.  "Regardless," she said, 
"I'm really glad you came over.  No regrets," she added, meaningfully 
meeting his eyes.  "Right?"

"Oh god - none at all," he assured all three of us.  "No regrets, ever, 
in life."  He grinned, happily.  "Honestly, I promise I don't judge you 
at all.  It's clear you all care about each other and I think this was 
very fun and amazingly free of the hang-ups people so often bring to 
things like sex.  Really, thank you."

Denise asked if he wanted some leftover turkey, but it was a formulaic 
invitation and he politely declined, and thus, a few minutes after the 
de Lucas had left with Marie, we saw Frank to the door as well.

We were finally just the three of us, again, and I could tell Lissa 
wanted a serious conversation about what had happened earlier.

We talked a little bit about the game of truth or dare, and how fast it 
had seemed to evolve - how we all had become absorbed in the lusts of 
the moment and the weird accelerating logic of the game.

Lissa explained, "I really was having fun, but I now that I think about 
it, I was spending too much time worrying about whether Marie or Frank 
would freak out, even if it didn't really seem like it - so it's good 
it was interrupted before it got too wild, I think."  She paused 
reflectively for a moment, and then added, "not that it didn't get 
pretty wild, anyway.  But at least it didn't degenerate into an orgy or 
something."

Denise chuckled at her daughter's oddly sophisticated remark.  Then she 
got serious, and said, "well, now that it's down to just us, again - 
how do you want to finish Jason's visit?  I mean, technically, we have 
no more tasks."

"Well, first thing, now that our guests are gone, let's get naked again.  
It's fun," she said.

No longer particularly uncomfortable with this idea, Denise and I both 
quickly complied.  

Once we were settled in comfortable positions in the living room, she 
looked quizzically for a few moments at my now semi-dormant penis.  
"You know, you've still got a bit of chocolate there, near your belly 
button."

I glanced down, and Denise glanced over, grinning.  "I see that he 
does," she said.  "Did you want to finish what you were doing earlier?" 
she teased her daughter in a playful tone.

The suggestion seemed to cause an immediate response in my cock, as it 
gave one of those leaps that announces:  "coming soon!"

Both women laughed at this obvious approval on my part.  But Lissa 
looked meditative.  "It's not exactly true that there are no more tasks.  
Remember about the simultaneous orgasms?" she pointed out to her mom.

Denise nodded, and clearly remembered.  "Oh, yes."

"Well, some things have changed - since we know Finn is Jason, and the 
truth or dare game, and all.  But..."

She paused, as if trying to reach a decision.  Then, finally, she said, 
in a quiet, firm voice, "I think there needs to be some orgasms."

Chapter 28.

Lissa continued, "I know way back, Jason had proposed simultaneous 
orgasms.  But I've been thinking, that it would be more interesting, at 
least for me, to, like, take turns.  So we can watch each other?"  She 
ended on that funny questioning raised tone teenagers sometimes seem to 
use when stating something that requires agreement.

Chapter 29.

Chapter 30.