This story, like all my stories, is a work of fiction. All characters are age 18 or older. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person is unintentional and coincidental. As always, your comments are welcome.
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"I think I'm going to go to bed," I said, getting up off the couch. "I'm exhausted. Night, Ava."
"Night, sis," she answered. "I'll be up in a little bit. I want to watch the ending of this movie."
"Okay," I answered. "See you in the morning."
I turned and headed up the staircase that overlooked the living room. Ava remained on the couch, but she was only half paying attention to the movie that was on the TV. Her eyes were pretty much glued to her phone.
I reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hall toward my room. I closed my bedroom door behind me and tugged on my shorts until they fell to my ankles. I kicked the blue cloth shorts to the side and pulled my t-shirt over my head. It was a hot summer night, so the cotton shirt was a little bit damp with sweat.
I unhooked my tan bra, letting my B cup boobs tumble out. I took one in each hand, slowly massaging the fleshy globes after a long day of being trapped in a slightly too small bra. Even though it was my own hands, my nipples hardened from being touched. Skin-to-skin contact always turned me on, and I could only wonder what it would be like when someone else touched me like that.
I had turned eighteen about six months earlier and was heading off to college in the fall. Naturally, I had heard the stories of wild college parties and casual sex, but I never really saw myself doing that. My parents are pretty strict and have always pushed the "wait until marriage" idea pretty hard. But more than that, my sexual inexperience was really because of my older sister Ava.
Ava had always been a good girl. She never really went out with guys, always dressed modestly, and mostly kept to herself for all the years we lived together. We were sisters, and we would talk about anything, but she would always sort of shut down when we would talk about sex.
"Not until you're married, Brianna," Ava would say to me. "It's important to wait until you find the right guy and are in a committed, loving marriage."
"But why?" I would ask. "Marriage is so far away. I don't know if I'll even get married. I don't see why it has to wait."
"It's the right thing to do," she'd reply, not offering much more of an explanation than that.
I never really bought into the explanation. But as much as I disagreed, I didn't do anything to act on that disagreement. I "stayed pure," as Ava would call it. Whenever I thought about a guy in that way during the last few months, Ava's words would always pop into my head, almost as if she were using my own conscience to judge me.
That judgment was enough to stop me in my tracks. After all, Ava was my role model, and I didn't want to disappoint her. I didn't want to be outdone by her, either. If she could wait until marriage, then so could I.
Occasionally I would touch myself at night after I went to bed. I'd slip a finger inside myself, gently probing my insides to discover new sensations. But even then I felt like Ava wouldn't approve, so I would stop almost as quickly as I started, never coming close to that magical orgasmic release.
Maybe all that would change during college. I'd be on my own and away from home. I could do what I wanted and decide what was right for me. Maybe I'd find a cute guy and let him bring me over the edge for the first time as we collapsed into each other's arms after a long study session. That's what I was secretly hoping for, at least.
But for now, with Ava so close by, I just couldn't bring myself to do anything she'd disapprove of.
Between the summer warmth and the heat of desire that was building inside me, I decided to take a cold shower. I pulled my simple white panties down to the ground and set them aside. I ran my fingers through the thick jungle of dark brown hair that covered my mons.
That was another thing Ava was always adamant about. She disapproved of being clean shaven, or of shaving anything at all really.
"Why do you want to look like those hairless harlots in porn movies?" she'd ask me. "If we weren't supposed to have hair down there, then why would it grow in the first place?"
"I just think it would feel better and cleaner," I would respond, shrugging casually.
"It wouldn't," she'd say. "It would itch and burn and leave you exposed. Things should be left the way they naturally are."
Eventually, I stopped arguing with her. But because I looked up to her and took on her standards as my own, I never dared to trim my pubic hair. So it grew more and more, becoming this coarse tangle of fur that covered my entire pubic area. I didn't mind in the winter, but it was warm on summer nights like this one.
I let my fingers continue running through the curls. My hands moved up and down, forward and back, occasionally brushing against the top of my sex lips. My body shuddered a bit at the sensation.
I decided I had to knock it off and headed to the bathroom. I turned the shower on and looked at my face in the mirror as the water heated up. I thought I was pretty, but who knew what all those college boys would think in the fall.
I hopped in the shower and washed myself from head to toe. When I was done, I toweled off and headed to my bedroom. I grabbed a simple pair of light blue panties from my dresser along with an old t-shirt from a half marathon I had run earlier that year. I pulled the panties up my legs until they covered my crotch and my bum, and the t-shirt soon followed to cover my top half.
I was about to shut my bedroom door but decided against it in hopes that a crossbreeze from my open windows to the hallway would keep the room cool. Turning off the lights, I slid into my bed and scrolled through social media.
The house was quiet for the most part until I heard the sound of a door gently closing about thirty minutes later.
"Shhhh," a voice said in a muffled whisper.
"Sorry," said another more masculine voice.
My body was frozen. My parents were away for a short vacation, so there wasn't supposed to be anyone in the house but Ava and me. I silently hoped the noise wasn't an intruder and was just my mind playing tricks on me.
"Is anyone home?" the masculine voice asked.
"Just Brianna," said the other. "But don't worry. She's long asleep by now."
I recognized the voice. It was just Ava. My heartbeat slowed and my fear disappeared. No big deal, I thought.
But then I wondered, who was she bringing home at well after midnight? Ava never brought anyone over to the house, and certainly not boys. All I could do was listen and try to figure out what was going on.
"Mmmm," Ava's voice continued. "Did you miss me, Scott?"
"You know I did," he replied. "Did you miss me?"
"How about you come over here and find out," Ava whispered back.
The talking was soon replaced by the rustling of clothes and the subtle sound of lips coming together in harmony.
"I guess you did miss me," Scott said, a little more loudly than before.
"Will you keep your voice down?" Ava replied, almost instantaneously.
"Sorry," he croaked.
