Naomi and Nathan twins had just turned 21 a couple of days ago, growing up on a ranch where the sky is as vast as their imagination. Their sprawling two-story house had a wraparound-covered deck seemingly hugging the entire lower floor. The slightly sloping roof of that deck used to be one of their favorite playgrounds as children.
They'd climb out the windows of their upstairs bedrooms and run around and around, giggling and shouting, until Mom or Dad's calls grew stern and they'd finally climb back inside, breathless from the game. Sometimes after bed one would climb out their window, as quiet as a mouse, sneak along the slope, then tap ever so gently on their twins window, where they would be let in, to resume their fun and games, albeit much quieter. As they grew older, the games on the roof became more rare, giving way to the comfort of their rooms, video games, homework sessions, and private talks filled with secrets and dreams.
The bond between Naomi and Nathan was as strong as it could get, since there were no other kids for miles around; as such, they had grown into confidants, companions, and best friends.
Their mornings would begin with the rising sun. Hiking the rolling hills behind the house, each the others companion, at times when they felt the urge they straddled quads tearing across the flat lands, leaving dust clouds behind them.
As the sun would set in the western sky, the house grew quiet. Nathan, being more adventurous, always left his window open. The soft rustling of leaves would whisper him to sleep, the cool evening breeze carrying the scent of earth and a call from whatever night creature happened by. It was his way of keeping a piece of the outdoors with him, a reminder of a wild world that lay just beyond the safety of their walls.
Naomi, on the other hand, her window stayed shut except when the heat of a summer night became unbearable. Her bedroom was her refuge; it was her fortress of solitude to which she could plunge headlong into the pages of her favorite novel, where imagination took her to those places she could only dream of. The only sound that ever rocked her to sleep was the rhythmic tick of the old clock downstairs.
One of those languid hot evenings, as stars began to light up the evening sky, a faint sound pierced the quiet of the house. It wasn't a sound that Nathan had heard before, unlike the serenading crickets or the periodic hooting of owls; it was much more than either. Curiosity stirred as Nathan lay in bed, listening intently. Quietly, he got up and went to his window, being sure not to disturb whatever creature was there. The noise was louder now, emanating from Naomi's open window just a few feet away.
He leaned out, and an overpowering compulsion seized him. he climbed out the window and padded along the roof to her room as he had done a thousand times when they were kids. The shingles were rough and warm beneath his feet; it was as though the memory of all their childhood games rushed back to him.
As he neared Naomi's window, the sound became more distinct a soft moaning. His heart thundered in his chest, half in excitement and half in trepidation. He leaned over the sill, peering through the open window.
Naomi was lying on her bed; her right hand was buried inside her lace panties, her fingers doing a dance that spoke of urgent need. Her left hand cupped one of her small, firm breasts, her thumb and forefinger toying with the erect nipple. Her eyes were closed, her full lips parted slightly as she bit down on her lower lip, and her cheeks flushed with arousal. For a moment, he felt like an intruder.
He knew he shouldn't be watching his sister this way, but the scene in front of him was just too mesmerizing to turn away from. The images of their harmless play flashed through his mind, but it was the present--the rustling of the curtains, the soft sighs escaping her lips that kept him glued.
The sound grew louder, more insistent, until it matched the pounding of his heart. Naomi's breathing grew short; her body went taut, her hips started bucking in silent ecstasy, the hand in her panties moving faster, more urgently. It was as if she was riding some wild horse, clinging on for dear life as it raced to the finish line.
He watched his arousal build, his eyes riveted on her pleasure; he had never imagined his sister in such a manner before. He knew he should turn away and go back to his room. But he couldn't--he had to see this--he was glued to the window. She wasn't just human; she was an angel.
Naomi's body arched and her hand moved quicker in her panties, a deep moan escaping her throat as the tension in the room burst, leaving only the aftermath of her climax: her body convulsing, then she fell tranquil onto the bed. For a moment Nathan held his breath, unable to move a muscle, as he watched.
Regaining his composure, Nathan stepped away from the window, his heart racing out of his chest. The breaths he took were shallow and uneven. He crept backward along the roof, where he ever so quietly climbed back inside his room. The warm night air did little to ease the heat that had settled in his groin from watching his sister.
A compulsion had taken hold of him; he had to feel the same experience, this same pleasure he'd just witnessed, watching his sister; it wouldn't let him go. He let his clothes drop away, his eyes still haunted by Naomi's passion. His body grew tight with anticipation. Lying on his bed, his hand hesitantly reached between his legs.
