I swear I'm innocent.
Ok, ok. Maybe 'innocent' isn't exactly the right word to use here. But it wasn't my fault, it was Caroline's. Really.
All right, all right, I suppose it wasn't entirely her fault either, because I had my hand in everything that happened, too. But isn't that what sisters are supposed to do? Blame it all on each other? I guess it was kind of both of us pushing each other. But really, it was mostly Caroline. This is getting confusing. I guess I'd better start over.
A few days before Valentine's Day, Dad and I went to the airport to pick up my sister Caroline. She was still in her first year at college and coming home for a quick visit. Dad had insisted that she attend an out-of-state school. Callie never told me exactly why, but she almost begged Dad to let her stay home and go to school, but he wouldn't hear of it. He used that 'it'll be good for you' voice that parents use when they're telling you to do something that you don't really want to do, and that was the end of that.
I missed her terribly. You know how it is. They say that you're always closer to your siblings than anyone, because they've pretty much experienced the same life that you have. That was the way with me and Caroline, and while she was away I didn't quite feel whole.
Oh, there were phone calls and emails and IMs, but they were all pretty generic – how her classes were going, what the food was like, how much homework she had. The stuff I really wanted to know she wouldn't talk about, at least not through electronic communication. I really wanted to know was how far she had gone with her boyfriend. Dad had kept us practically under lock and key since we got to high school, and I was dying to find out if her new freedom away from home had led to some real-world experience.
She spotted us before we saw her. "Daddy! Katherine!!"
We looked over and saw her waving her hand over head to get our attention. Caroline's a very pretty girl, and I felt a little rush of possessive affection for my big sister. More than a few guys turned their heads to look at her as she ran towards us. It always amazed me to see the reaction that she got from boys, who could always be counted on to forget themselves and drool in her presence. The thing is, anybody who saw us together knew immediately that we were sisters, we looked that much alike. But there was something about Callie that was hers alone – her innate ability to make even men who hadn't met her want her. Caroline's birthday was nine months to the day before mine, and it was a joke we kept to ourselves that Mom and Dad just couldn't wait after she was born to start having sex again.
Callie was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that I'd given her as a going away to college present. Her figure was lean enough to attest to the hours she spent on the tennis court, and curvy enough that there was no doubt she was all girl. Her long blond hair fanned out behind her as she ran our way. She squealed in delight as she ran into our open arms for a big group hug.
"I am so glad to see you guys!"
"Welcome home, honey," Dad said.
"I'm glad you're back!" I said. And I was, too. I felt all warm and cuddly when she held us, as if it was just our little nuclear family that mattered and nothing could ever come between us. Dad put his arm around both of us, hugging tightly. I inhaled the mixed scents of my family – Dad's freshly pressed dress shirt and his musky cologne, Caroline's fruity shampoo and the ineffable personal scent of big sister, which always made me feel safe and loved.
"I've got my two girls back together!" Dad said, rocking us all back and forth as he squeezed us. "Gosh, you look good!"
"Daddy!" Did she blush? "It's not like I've been gone for years or anything."
"Well, it was long enough that we missed you. Right, Katie?"
"Right," I said.
With a smiling girl under each arm, Dad walked us towards the parking lot.
"So, how's school?" he asked her.
"Fine. Art history is really interesting. We learned that there's a Titian coming to the U.S. – he's this really famous Italian Renaissance painter who lived in 1500's. Some critics think that a lot of the paintings attributed to him weren't really his, but I think there's a similarity in his use of color and they're wrong."
Dad laughed. "Well, I guess my money hasn't been wasted if you're learning important stuff like that. And in your first year, too!"
Caroline stuck her tongue out at him. "I can't help it if you don't know any art history."
"True, true. But I do know what's important, and that's that my girls are all home for Valentine's Day."
Caroline smiled a knowing smile at that. We never knew exactly why, but Valentine's Day was a big deal with Dad, even before Mom had died. He always made sure that all of 'his girls' got presents and cards, candy and flowers and a big dinner at a fancy restaurant. He would hide Valentines in our backpacks before we went to school, and there would always be a little gift left on our pillow when we woke up. It was our little family tradition to go overboard every February 14
th
. Caroline and I both knew that it was more celebrating than most people did, but we weren't stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, it was fun.
We all walked to the car arm in arm. "I wouldn't miss Valentine's Day at home for anything," Caroline said.
***
We stopped for dinner at the Olive Garden before we went home. Dad had rented
March of the Penguins
and we ate popcorn while we watched, sitting in a cozy group on the huge leather sofa. When the baby penguin died I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I looked over at Caroline to see if she felt the same way. She had a look on her face that was part sorrow and part rueful smile that she would cry at something silly like that. I knew exactly how she felt. She looked at Dad and to my surprise slapped him on the arm.
"You big ol' softie! You're crying!"
"Am not," he said, trying not to smile and failing miserably. Dad likes to think he's all macho and above crying over TV penguins.
"It's OK Dad, right Katie-pie? We love you even if you are a big ol' closet penguin softie." We giggled and I watched her put her head on his shoulder.
I loved having Caroline home again, even if it was only until Valentine's Day. I was glad Dad had insisted she take a few days off from school, pleading that it just wouldn't be right if she wasn't here. I had to agree. Having her home to joke with me and Dad made the world whole.
It was late when we finished watching the movie, and Caroline said that she was tired and going up to bed. I was kind of disappointed because I had wanted to talk to her alone and ask her about her boyfriend, but it didn't look like I was going to get a chance. I figured that I'd just have to wait until the next day.
I took a quick shower, pulled on my pajamas and a pair of warm socks and went to bed. First I had to push Mr. Paddington over to his side of the bed. He's my giant stuffed bear who's been my best friend since I was like, four. He was bigger than me until I was about six. He's golden brown and wears a silly yellow rain hat and a blue rain coat. He lives on my bed, keeps me company and listens to all my secrets, and woe be unto you if you dare make fun of him.
He even stayed with me after I became old enough to start lusting after boys. Once I was feeling particularly dangerous I had used Mr. Paddington as a tactile aid, pretending that I had a real lover. Of course he wasn't big enough to play a real man convincingly, but he was close enough for pretend. I spread my legs and nestled him between them so that I could lock my feet around his back, just like I would do to a real boy. I loved the warm fuzzy weight of him resting on my chest, and even more I loved the naughty feeling of pretending that a boy was fucking me hard. I held him tightly and rubbed my dripping pussy against him. Mr. Paddington may be my very best friend but unfortunately he wasn't much of a lover, and I had to reach between him and me so that I could finish myself with my fingers. I came so hard I couldn't believe it, and from then on Mr. Paddington was as much a part of my self-loving as my own fingers. Him on top. Me straddling him as he rested on his back. My hand buried in the fur on his head and his face clutched between my legs while I pretended he was licking me until I came. A few times I'd even propped him up with pillows so that I could get on all fours and back my ass against his furry tummy, rubbing my clit and pretending I was getting fucked doggie style. I simply loved Mr. Paddington, and I never failed to cum extra hard when he was helping me with my fantasies. But tonight I wasn't in the mood for fucking with Mr. Paddington. I tried to pretend otherwise, but my thoughts were centered on the real experiences that Caroline might have had.
I got out my copy of
At First Sight
by Nicholas Sparks and read for a while, but I couldn't concentrate. When Caroline had last visited at Christmas, she'd let slip that she was getting close to some guy named Harrison, and had even necked with him. I wanted to know more. All during high school Dad kept a short leash on us – making sure he knew who we were with, phoning us to 'check in,' insisting that we were always home early. He had intimidated any boys who dared to show an interest in us, and I was dying to know if Caroline had used her distance from Dad to learn more about horny young men so she could pass her experience on to her little sister.
So many thoughts were floating through my head that I couldn't pay any attention to my book. When I realized I'd read the same paragraph three times I gave up and tried to go to sleep, but that wasn't much better. I kept imagining Caroline in her dorm room, laying on her bed with her legs spread wide so that some good-looking college boy could fuck her. Had my big sister actually done it? What did it feel like to actually get fucked? Did she like it? I was getting a little mushy between the legs just thinking about it, and I clenched my crotch as if that could stop the feelings. I didn't want to masturbate because I knew that while it might satisfy my drippy pussy, it wouldn't satisfy my curiosity. And afterwards I'd be stuck right where I was - wondering if Callie had done it and what it had been like. Besides, wouldn't it be better to learn what had happened so that I could have some new self-fondling fuel? It was a weak excuse and I knew it. But it was enough to get me out of bed to pad down the hall to Caroline's room.
There was just enough light coming out from under the door to encourage me to think that she might still be up, maybe reading. I knocked softly so that I wouldn't wake her if she was already asleep and dreaming of having sex with the mysterious Harrison.
Her voice was drowsy and indistinct and I couldn't make out what she said through the door, but I definitely heard her say something. Now I regretted coming and probably waking her up, but it was already done. I opened the door and peeked in.
Caroline had a couple of candles burning on her nightstand, which explained the diffused light I'd seen under the door, and her room smelled like warm summer peaches. She was laying under the blankets in her bed, and as soon as I opened the door she sat up with a start, her blond locks tousled and her blanket falling to her waist. Callie was wearing an old shirt of Dad's, which was her usual bedtime wear.
"Jeez, Katie!
