Author's note: Thanks for the read, comments are appreciated in order to aid future endeavors!
Anytime Lisa
or A Nasty Case of the Fucking Hornies
Anytime Lisa was what the guys named her
You could have her tonight
All you had to do was claim her
There was nothing to stop them from taking her out
Night after night they kissed her and tossed her
about.
--Was (Not Was)
Everyone knew that Lisa liked sex. Even I knew it, and at thirteen, I was the baby of the family. But I'd heard Mom and Dad whispering in the kitchen enough to gather that Lisa fucked quite a lot of guys, and enjoyed it. After all, that was why she had come home, why we were on this camping trip in the first place.
I never thought of my sister as a slut though. I don't know why; that word just never came to mind. To me, "slut" was a word for bad girls, like the girls on the Jerry Springer show, or the goth girls made fun of me and my friends when we walked home from school, or the girls in the porno tapes Josh snuck from his dad's basement. Not Lisa. Lisa had always been nice to me, stuck up for me and let me tag along with her when I'd been just a lame little brother and she a Senior in High School.
I was sure my sister wasn't a slut. She had just made some mistakes. And, more than that, she had never been ashamed of her sexual desires. The entire family got a healthy dose of it when she spliced a video of her losing her virginity (to several young men, and one very excited looking young woman) into the "memory reel" they played at her sweet sixteen.
No, Lisa wasn't a slut. She just loved fucking. And as an eighteen-year-old virgin, I could certainly identify with that. Our family was religious, and I went to a school where sex was so taboo that I hardly even knew what it was. This all made Lisa's daring acts even more daring, of course. She had been lucky our parents hadn't disowned her.
So when she'd come back from college for summer break in tears, and told us about the baby, and the abortion, and said she'd needed to be with us for a while at home, I'd certainly understood. Hell, I'm the one who suggested we go out to Borrego, where she and I had spent so many nostalgic weekends hiking up the chalk hill and racing each other down it again, or flying kites, or skinny dipping in the "secret" hot springs.
In spite of all this--that I knew my sister Lisa loved to have sex, and that she was blunt as hell about it when she wanted itβI hope you'll believe me when I say I was still rather surprised when, well after midnight, I was woken out of a deep sleep by the sound of my pup tent's zipper opening, a person scurrying closer towards me, and my sister's voice whispering, "You up, Matt? I got a nasty case of the Fucking Hornies."
I tried to say "what?" I tried to coherently explain that I had no idea what she meant, and that she shouldn't be sneaking around in the middle of the night when Mom and Dad were asleep in the next tent over. All that made it through the haze of just-woken-up delerium was "wuzzuh?"
"The Fucking Hornies," she repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Wetslit? Clitoritis? Yannic Withdrawals? The Gotta Humps?"
Somewhere in all of this, I gathered that something odd was transpiring, something having to do with sex. I propped myself up on my elbows and my sleeping bag fell down my front, exposing my not-quite-yet-developed chest to the chilly air. My nipples, totally devoid of even a single chest hair (despite what they'd promised us in Sex Ed) perked up immediately. I tried to make Lisa out in the darkness, failed, and reached up to open the tent's moon roof.
"Are you okay?" I asked. It was all I could think of. Lisa had been through a lot, I knew. Our parents were none too happy with her behavior, and it had taken some cajoling for them to even see her again.
The tent flap fell away, and the full moon bathed my sister and I in clean silver light.
"What do you think?" she said.
She looked okay. Better than okay, in fact. She was squatting at the foot of my sleeping bag on powerful and bare legs that seemed carved of milk-white alabaster in the moonlight. The smirk peeking through her plump, full mouth looked like that of a kid stealing cookies. Wide green eyes, a crinkled button nose, and a scattering of freckles all framed by a slightly kinked mane of tousled red hair completed the child-like face.
Only the face belonged to a body certainly not that of a child. I had of course notice Lisa developing...I wasn't blind for God's sake. And now, as I hugged myself trying to warm up, those developments looked just as perky as my own. Two uncomfortably clear points jabbed at her gray Eeyore t-shirt. The oversized nightshirt hid her down to her waist, where large shapely hips and her bent legs hiked it up tantalizingly high. In the darkness, what lay in those depths was still obscured.
I had seen all of this in an instant, and tried to ignore it. Lisa had seen me peeking though, and her big lips split in a wide grin.
"You awake little brother?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Is everything all right?"
I guess that sounded like an invitation to come sit, because Lisa scooted forward on her haunches. As she did, I was treated to the sight of Eeyore and Piglet trying to help Winnie the Pooh get his head out of a honey pot which almost too conveniently hung just between her thighs. She turned around and plopped down beside me. I pulled the sleeping bag up, suddenly embarrassed that she might see my boxers. She stretched her legs out in front of her and wiggled her feet in and out of the patch of moonlight.
"Everything's not all right," she sighed. "I don't think I've ever gone so long without a cock in me...a cock, a finger, a tongue...something! I'm going nuts. I couldn't take it anymore, so I had to come bug you. Hope you don't mind."
"I don't mind," I stammered. I was used to Lisa's sex talk, but this was another level entirely.
"Coming out here's been great," she said, "don't get me wrong. I missed you guys. You most of all, bud." She draped one slender arm over my shoulders and I suddenly felt much warmer. Why was Lisa putting off so much heat, I wondered?
"I always liked you, Matt," she finished.
"I like you too," I said, trying anything to console her, still unsure as to how I could resolve this.
Lisa went on. "Can I talk to you about this stuff, Matt? I mean, does it make you uncomfortable?"