I wake to the familiar sound of my sister's voice, something I've heard every day of my life--often woken to if I'm honest--pulling me from the black of dreamless sleep. I don't open my eyes yet, but let out a grumble of acknowledgement, despite not having truly processed her words, and roll over on my side. This earns me a poke in the ribs, just below the fourth rib on the left side, Lauren's favorite target. No matter my orientation or position, she could poke that exact spot from across the room, given a long enough finger.
"M'up," I mumble at her.
"Well part of you is anyway," she giggles. I open my eyes and am greeted with a close up view of my sister's trimmed bush. Oh yeah, we're naked.
The memories of yesterday, what we've gotten ourselves into, and what I did last night with Ms. Larson, all flood my mind. I turn away from her pussy, inconveniently at eye level, and see what she's talking about: the massive tent that my morning wood is pitching under the thin blanket. "Oh."
"It's less obvious when you're wearing clothes, I guess," she said, sitting next to me on the bed. I scoot over a little bit to give her room before I even consider what she's doing. We're naked! Why is she sitting so close to me and my boner?
I decide it's best to ignore the weirdness and try to carry on normally. As normal as I can be with my sister's tits in my face. "What time is it?" I ask, noticing that it's still dark outside. My phone is elsewhere, maybe on the desk? Maybe on the nightstand? Not in my hand, that's for sure.
"5:20 or so. I woke up at 5:10, bathroom and all that, then came in here to bother you."
5 in the morning? "Why on Earth would you come wake me up this early? Why are you up this early? Are you dying?"
"It's 8 our time," she explains. Oh yeah, we're all the way across the country. That would explain why I feel well rested despite it being 5 in the morning.
"It's still dark out, I don't wanna be up when it's dark out," I whine, playing up the role of a petulant child. We're so used to acting in our little movies that we slip into roles all the time. Now, me as a whiny kid and her waking me up. It's easier to play these roles when they're eighty percent true.
"Well your sister is awake and bored and it is your job as my twin brother to fix that." She pokes me again, and again. They aren't going to stop until I wake up, that's the only defense against Lauren's pokey assault. I roll over again, onto my stomach and wince briefly as I trap my erection beneath me.
"I'm getting up, jeez," I swat at her hand but she's faster than me and pulls it away. I'm left swiping at air, and earn another poke in the ribs. "You butthead," I grunt, shifting to a sitting position, the blanket still over my dick to hide that while it goes down.
"We're twins, dummy. Makes you a butthead too." She sticks her tongue out at me. It's a gesture I'm used to, and usually it's kinda cute, in an annoying sister way. But now, with the tongue being positioned just above her perky tits with nipples pointing straight at me, it makes me feel funny. I can't keep my eyes off of them. I know I shouldn't stare, but they're boobs. And God, boobs are fantastic. Maybe eventually I'll stop turning into an idiot whenever tits are in my face, especially when they're on display all day every day, but I haven't gotten there yet. She goes to poke me again and this time I'm awake enough to snatch her hand out of the air.
I stick my tongue out at her, returning fire for her previous affront to my person. It quickly turns to a warm smile, however, and I squeeze her finger. "How are you doing?" I ask quietly. For the moment all teasing is gone and forgotten. It's just siblings checking in on each other, knowing there is no one else in the world who understands us as well as we do.
"Good," she says too quickly, and I stare at her, gently squeezing that finger until she opens her hand and slides her fingers between mine. It's never been a romantic thing for us. We were born holding hands, and have always felt safe and secure like this. I want her to know she's safe here, and doesn't have to lie. "Overwhelmed," she says after a moment, sheepishly smiling at me for the lie. "It's a lot. It's all just so much to try and take in, and I'm not..." she waffles around, literally shifting her torso back and forth while she thinks of the words, "I'm nervous. About meeting the other students, about school starting, about what we're gonna tell Mom and Dad this summer. There's a lot going on up here," she taps a finger against her temple, "and I'm trying to be cool about the nudity thing, because we have to deal with it for four years, but it's weighing on me." She falls silent, looking mostly at my bare chest, but I can see her eyes dropping down to my groin now and then. My morning wood is on its way out, but it had been front and center for a little while there. It's also a more potent and aggressive sign of arousal and sexual desire than anything she has. A reminder that we're both 18 and entering our sexual prime.
"Why?" I ask simply, prompting her to continue.
"Because all of these women are hot," she blurts out, and I cock my head at her, not sure I heard or understood her correctly. "Ms. Larson is gorgeous, Julie and Delilah are attractive, even the pictures in the hall of Alex and Kayla are hot, and I haven't even seen them in person!" She huffs and tries to pull her hand away from me but I don't let her. I squeeze it tight. Always. "And I'm just me," she finishes quietly, looking down. This is a much heavier conversation than I was expecting to have at 5:30 in the morning.
"I've got a bunch of questions right now," I take my time pronouncing the words, in no rush to get through this conversation. I've got nowhere better to be. "But maybe we should start with: do you think you're ugly? Because I'm about to be offended," I grin at her.
Lauren giggles and rolls her eyes. That's a win already. "No, well I dunno," she replies unhelpfully. "I don't think I'm ugly, but I don't look like them. I'm not... Ms. Larson looks like she could be a model, and did you see Delilah's huge boobs?"
"I saw them, don't worry about that," I joke. Lauren smiles, but continues over me.
"I'm just... I'm average, you know? I'm not some super hot model with perfect skin or big boobs or a waxed vagina or..." she trails off and looks down at her body. I follow her gaze. She's right, in a way. She doesn't have huge boobs, but they're perky and alluring in their own way. Sure her skin isn't perfect, but we're 18 and grew up poor, where any amount of skin care past a daily shower was too much a luxury to consider.
"I think you're beautiful," I say, looking back up from her chest to her eyes. They brighten when I say that, but she reaches up with her free hand and slaps my leg gently.
"You're my brother, you have to say that."
I squeeze her hand again. "No, I mean... Yes, that's true, but also I think I'd still mean it. Don't compare yourself to these other women. You're gonna be ok. Besides, you're not competing with any of them. And I bet none of them are going to judge what you look like."
She mulls this over for a moment, then a mischievous look forms in her eyes. "I dunno, Joe," she says, "Ms. Larson seemed to only want to talk about how pretty your penis is!" She laughs, earning a scowl from me. "Seriously, she called it pretty! I've never seen another one in person but... hard to disagree," she continues teasing. I perk up at that. Not my cock, just my ears.
"You think my dick is good looking?" I ask, smirking.
"Best and worst I've seen in person," she teases.
"Jerk."