Escalation

It takes me five minutes to even get up off the couch. There's so much rattling around in my brain, my thoughts bouncing into each other and smashing against the inside of my skull, that I need that much time to even come to the conclusion that I should leave the theater. My legs are sore and strained from my workout, so standing is a more involved endeavor than usual and involves more whimpering. But I get there, eventually. What just happened?

First I take a nap with my sister, get horny about her, consider breaking a barrier and touching her inappropriately. Bad enough. Fucked up enough to land most people in therapy for life. But then it gets worse. We masturbate together and, if it wasn't for Julie jerking me off while I fingered her, that would have been the sexiest moment of my young life. Watching my sister--my sister--play with herself for me. Am I broken?

I sigh quietly to myself, running my hands over my face in frustration. I quickly realize that's a bad move, because I smear the remnants of Julie's pussy juices around my face, coating myself in her scent. It's not bad, but it'll certainly take some getting used to. It's just different, and new, and intensely arousing every time I remember where it came from.

Did Lauren watch? That's the thought stuck in my head. All the pleasure was great, fingering Julie and getting jerked off, and getting to watch her cum--to make her cum--was incredible. But I can barely focus on that because my sister is the only thing on my mind. If Lauren stayed and watched, she would have seen everything.

I wonder if she enjoyed it.

I wonder if she was jealous, and if so, of who?

I wonder if she came. I hope she did. I'm not sure if I hope that for her sake--that she achieved that necessary release--or for mine, that I get to have the sexual affirmation and visual of my twin making herself orgasm watching me have a sexual first.

Ms. Larson awoke something in me last night. Not a love of busty, attractive redheads, that was already firmly in place. Instead, she showed me how hot I find it when someone is watching me. She instilled that kink in me, and my experience with Lauren reaffirmed it and drove it home.

I'm officially an exhibitionist. I'm not sure what to do with that information, maybe join a support group or find an online forum full of like-minded perverts? The part that enjoys people seeing me naked is going to be eating good for the next four years, I'm just not sure how to best tackle the portion of my sexual psyche that tells me to have people constantly watching me masturbate and have sex. Though, now that I think about it, it doesn't seem like it will be that difficult to pull off. It's barely noon on my second day and I've already had someone--my fucking twin sister--watch me twice kinda, and another person watch me once.

None of this matters in the moment. My issue is not that I enjoy being watched. The issue is that I'm not sure what's going on with me and Lauren. One day here and we're touching ourselves in front of each other. Fuck.

Leaving the theater is step one. Not going to change anything from in here, not unless Lauren comes back randomly. Step two is to clean myself up. My stomach and chest are coated in a thick load of cum, and an uncomfortable amount of it has dripped down my sides. Thankfully, all I need to clean myself is some cold water, some baby wipes, and a towel.

Step three of my very simple plan to try and recover from the sexually charged adventure is to get some food in my stomach. Being this horny, combined with the most intense exercise I've had in years, has left me starving.

As I walk downstairs I stay on alert for Lauren. I don't know if she's already in the kitchen, or somewhere else entirely, but I have an unshakable urge to talk to her about what we did. I feel strangely disconnected from Lauren, because of the way it ended, and making sure it's all in my head is at the top of my to-do list.

The smell of cooking bacon hits me before anything else does. Julie is hard at work on the enormous stove, having set up a griddle attachment and is frying a full pack of bacon all at once. Surprisingly, she's wearing an apron. I didn't think that would be allowed, but maybe Ms. Larson makes exceptions.

"Hi," I say timidly as I enter the kitchen and look around. Lauren is nowhere to be found. Shit.

"Hey there!" She says, turning to grin at me. The apron over her bare body does wonderful things to me. It's white, with hearts and flowers all over it, but it only comes halfway down her thighs, and the sides of her breasts are squished out of the apron. Somehow, I think she looks even sexier with it on than entirely naked. "Bacon's almost done! And I already got the other stuff around for your sandwiches. For sides I made a fruit salad and some veggies."

I smile, Julie clearly puts a lot of work into making good food for us. I'm excited to see what dinner looks like in this house. Maybe it'll be one of those crazy rich people dinners with fourteen courses and a live bird or something.

"Thank you, that's wonderful!" I say, though I keep looking around. It isn't like Lauren to miss a meal. "Um, have you uh... have you seen Lauren?"

Julie arches an eyebrow at me. "Nope, I assumed I'd find her down here, but tracking her down is unfortunately not in my skill set. I just cook food good," she gestures back to the griddle where bacon is popping and fizzing alluringly. "You worried about her?"

I nod, "I've never seen her react like that. I... I dunno, it was weird."

"Weird?" Julie asks, "As in weirder than you two masturbating together? How long have you done that?"

"It's not... we don't... I mean..." I stammer over my explanation, which makes it look like a dumb lie. "That was the first time," I finally get out.

Julie's eyebrows shoot up again and she covers her mouth with one hand. "Oh, well... I'm doubly sorry for intruding, then. You two looked like you were having a good time and I shouldn't have interrupted your little sibling bonding time. Not that I'm going to complain about we finished things off for you," she winks, long eyelashes fluttering in a heart-melting motion of undeniable eroticism.

I blush. The nudity is becoming less uncomfortable for me to deal with, but the casual nature that people in this house approach sex and sexuality still takes me aback. I'm not a prude, but my parents are very conservative, so while I watched porn and jerked off at home, the only "sex talk" that I had was a firm reminder not to do it until marriage.

Julie turns back to the griddle, that soft butt jiggling as she presents it to me. I'm not going to say that I'm in love with her, that's absurd. But I might be in love with her body. Her friendly demeanor and the way she welcomed us so warmly helps too. And the way she jerked my cock, of course. I might have a bit of a crush, even if she is likely close to ten years older than me.

"Should we--or I guess, can we--talk about that, by the way?" I ask, taking a seat at one of the stools by the island.

"Talk about what?" She asks over her shoulder, only half turning to look at me. Most of her attention is on the food and she is understandably not planning on presenting her bare back and butt to the unpredictability of bacon grease.

"What we did. Upstairs." It currently makes me a little uncomfortable to even talk about it explicitly. As if perhaps that will shatter an illusion that is holding my life in place.

"Yeah, it was fun," she says, now turning to give me a wide grin, "you weren't bad, and you'll only get better as you do it more."

"Well thank you," I wasn't expecting compliments about my first ever time fingering a girl. I'm still ecstatic I was able to make her cum. What I had read online about the female orgasm made it sound like a rare and mysterious occurrence. But really, it was that difficult. I just listened to what she said, and I did it. She knew what her body needed, and I wanted to make her cum. That was all it required. "But I was really more uh, well, thinking about what it meant?"

"What do you mean? All it meant is that you were horny and I was horny and we could work together to fix that problem." Julie starts to take bacon off the griddle, draining it of grease and then piling it on a plate to cool.

That hurts a little. My first sexual experience with a woman and it doesn't mean anything more to her than the effort put in for the orgasm. I'm sure I'll remember it for the rest of my life, how could I ever forget my first? "So that's all it was?"

Julie doesn't respond for a moment. Just piles bacon. We sit in that near-silence with only the sizzle of grease and the gentle clatter of tongs. It's only when all the food is settled and the stove is turned off that she turns to face me. "Joe, honey," she slowly undoes her apron, releasing the knots at the small of her back and pulling the garment over her head. She sets it down, then comes closer to me, until I could reach out and massage her tits without getting up. "I know you're young, and new at this, and even new to the way that things happen in this house," Julie lays a hand on my arm. It's a simple action, but it summons goosebumps. "Sex is fun. It feels good. That's all it has to be. Don't fall in love with me because I made you cum. You're cute and we'll probably do more in the future, but don't get in your own head about it. Just let it be that, ok?" And then her hand is gone from my body.

"Ok," I respond. It's not how I was raised to approach sex, but this is a different world than where I come from. "I'm sorry, I just... first time anyone's done that and it got me good."

"I know," Julie nods. It's a beautiful motion as those dark curls rustle back and forth. "First times are important. I'm glad I could be a first for you. I wouldn't dare be the first to fuck you though," she giggles at that, and I raise my eyebrows.

"What does that mean?"

"It means your virginity probably belongs to Ms. Larson or..." she shrugs, "maybe to Lauren. I saw how you looked at her. Maybe that was just horniness, I know watching you two masturbating got me worked up, but maybe not." Julie shrugs again and moves off to prepare sandwiches for us.

"She's my sister!" I exclaim.

"So? You're telling me, honestly, that if she asked, you wouldn't fuck her?" She shakes her head in disapproval. "You're both adults. You can make your own choices. And I understand if that boundary is too much to cross. But your sister is hot, buddy. Just accept it."

That's the problem. I already have.

We seem to separately come to the conclusion that we should move past this topic and find something else to discuss. Julie makes herself a BLT and makes my PB&B&J, then fills a bowl with fruit and loads up some broccoli rice for me as well. I'm not used to having anyone else, other than myself and Lauren, cook my food. But it's hard to deny that Julie does it all better than I ever could. Lauren and I knew enough to keep ourselves alive, but Julie can cook. I don't quite understand how she does it, but the bacon tastes better than I thought bacon could taste, and she did something to the rice to make it taste like a dream. I'm hooked from the first bite.

"How did you decide to become a chef?" I ask after the first few bites are solidly handled.

Julie gives a small smile and covers her mouth with a hand while she finishes chewing, then responds. "Only thing I've ever loved. Even as a kid, I was always helping my grandma in the kitchen make Sunday lunch after church. When she passed, Sunday lunch became my responsibility, and I was more than ok with that. I started small and started simple. You know, easy things and pulling from the family recipe book." She pauses to take a few more bites and wash it down with water.

"Then I started making changes. Swap around some spices, change up the sauce. And then came brand new inventions. Things I thought up on my own," she glows as she recalls her early days cooking. Nostalgia hits us hard through food, that's a common thread no matter your walk of life. It seems for Julie that counts for both eating and making it. "That's what I loved most: making something brand new and watching my family try it. It was intoxicating."

She pauses to eat a bit, and I jump in, already having shoveled down most of my food. "So you decided to make a career out of it." It's not a question, but she nods anyway.

"Yeah, I applied to the CIA, got in--" I wave a hand in disbelief.

"The CIA?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"Culinary Institute of America," she explains with a giggle.

"Ok, you know how that sounds right? That's poorly acronymed."

"That's why we say it like that. Or at least, that's why I say it like that."

"Ok, crisis averted, carry on."

"So," she splays her hands, which shows off her tits for a moment and I lose track of myself, "went to the CIA, did well. Did really well, to be honest. While I was there, one of my instructors asked me to come to a private event and cook for a couple of people. I thought it was an incredible honor, so I did it. Well, it turns out that 'a couple of people's meant Ms. Larson and three of her friends." She grins as she recalls the event, clearly a major turning point in her life. Also an event I am glad she attended. "She told me she had done this eight times over the past few weeks, and that she was looking for a new private chef. If I wanted the job, and the absurd salary, I would have to 'blow her fucking mind'," she uses air quotes here. "Her words, not mine."

"Obviously you did," I say, pushing my empty plate to the side and focusing entirely on Julie.

"Yep," she grins, "she offered me the job, I said yes, and I've been here for four years. I hope I never have to get another job, it's perfect here. Even ignoring the sexual perks." She winks at me and I blush. "But more importantly!" Julie raises a finger, "She lets me experiment and make whatever I want. I can make fun foods, and she's got an expansive palette." She grins.

"You plan on moving on ever?

"Maybe," she shrugs, "Haven't thought that far ahead, but I'm still young--" she cuts off and looks up as we hear footsteps enter the kitchen. Lauren doesn't give us more than a quick glance as she walks over to the counter and assembles her sandwich, taking some cooling bacon and smushing a sandwich together for herself.

"Hey, Lauren," I say standing up and taking my plate over to the sink. Julie understands what is happening and doesn't continue her sentence. She slumps in her seat and stays quiet, letting Lauren and I deal with what needs dealt with. "Julie makes some good-ass bacon," I say, setting my plate down and looking at my sister.

Lauren doesn't respond at first. She's focused on collecting her food, and I respect that, so I wait. She finally turns, but it isn't towards me, it's to Julie. "Does Ms. Larson mind if we eat in our rooms or outside or anything?"

Julie shakes her head, "Nope. As long as you don't make a mess, she trusts you to do what you want."

Lauren starts to walk out of the kitchen with her plate and a glass of water. "Do you want some company?" I ask, taking a step towards her. I'm stopped in my tracks when she faces me with a look I've rarely seen--and never directed at me before.

"Not... Not right now, ok?" her voice is cracking. Before I can even think of a response to that, she hurries out of the room. I watch her little butt wiggle as she goes and my heart breaks.

The one constant in my life has been Lauren. We've fought before, sure, but never for more than ten minutes. And we've never had a time in our lives where we haven't been comfortable talking to each other. This hurts. It hurts like a kick in the nuts, but at least that, I know, will fade. This pain can only deepen.

I take two steps towards the door but she's gone and I feel Julie put a hand on my shoulder. "I think maybe she needs some alone time."

"We've... she's... never needed alone time before," I whisper. And it's true. If either of us was ever upset, the first place we went was to our twin. School, family, friends, or even just a scary movie. Whatever the problem was, we both knew the other could fix it. How do we fix this, then?

"Yeah, well... you two apparently broke some barriers today. Very sexy barriers, but barriers nonetheless. She's got a lot on her mind, if I had to guess." Her hand lifts off of me and I hear her pad away to the sink. I turn to face Julie, enjoying the sight of her naked body on display, though it isn't quite as powerful as the moment with my emotions in flux.

"Thank you for lunch, Julie," I find myself saying, "but I need to go try and figure this out." I turn towards the door and start to leave, but hear Julie clear her throat and I pause.

"It's ok, Joe," she says quietly from across the room. "It's ok that you and your sister have these feelings. It's ok that you want to explore with her. She makes you feel safe, and she's not going to hurt her. She's going through the same thing you are, so just... don't be dumb. No one here will judge you for doing things with her. And Ms. Larson will certainly support whatever makes you two happy." I'm not entirely sure what to say to that, so I just nod and smile, then leave the room.

This time, Julie doesn't stop me.

The house is a fuzzy blur as I leave the kitchen. I know it's beautiful, I've seen it before, but right now none of that matters because my sister is mad at me for the first time and I'm too emotionally immature to know how to handle this. That's the tough truth rampaging through my brain, flipping over tables of rational thoughts and shitting on the floor in the diner of reasonable ways to move forward.

Without thinking about it at all I find myself upstairs, standing outside of Lauren's room. She said she wanted to be alone, that she didn't want to be around me right now. Sure yeah, great. I knock.

The door slowly opens, silently swinging into the space that Lauren has been given to live in for the next four years. But she's not here. She's... I don't know where. Somewhere else on the grounds, hopefully. But not here, that's the issue.

I don't even bother looking around, she hasn't had time to really move into it yet. It's just like mine. In almost every possible way. I shut the door and go into my room, needing to focus on something else.

The next few hours creep past like a caterpillar, taunting me with the lack of speed. I spend it setting up my new laptop, texting my mom and some of my friends from back home, watching some Twitch, and looking at what my class schedule is going to be like for the upcoming semester. Being distracted helps. For a while I don't even think about Lauren. She pops in and out and I'm briefly reminded that we might have irreversibly damaged our relationship, and then I find something else to occupy my brain and keep the neurons firing. The cycle repeats, and the day passes.

When this loses my interest and I've run out of ways to distract myself with the wonders of the Internet (at least for the time being), I shut everything down and head outside. Some time in the sun will be good for me, and I should explore the green expanse beyond the house anyway.

Part of me expects--certainly hopes--that I'll find Lauren outside by the pool and we'll have a lovely chat and clear everything up. But I don't.

What I do find is that I am unprepared for the intense heat of a California summer. Summer in the Midwest is hot, sure, but it pales in comparison to Southern California. There's not a single fucking cloud in sight, and the sun feels like it's closer here. Maybe it's just magnified. It's like I have to cut through a curtain of pure heat anytime I move. This could take me a while to get used to.

The grounds are... really fucking big. First, right out the back door is an enormous pool and a hot tub that could seat twelve if they liked each other. There's a small shed near the pool that I assume--thanks to my expert knowledge of pools--contains various floats and pool toys and goggles. I'm delighted to find, when I open the door, that I was completely correct and also that's where all the towels are stored. All of that is good information to have.