“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Rheta quoted Shakespeare, very much saying what I was thinking myself. “But I’ll take your word for it,” she quickly added; clearly Mom was not impressed. A minute passed where they seemed to be judging each other, and I was tempted to peak through the blinds on the window and see their stare off. Finally, Rheta broke the silence, “But to answer your original question, I think that Henry very much enjoyed that slutty display you insisted we give him. I mean, did you see how quickly he sat back down in that chair; he was probably trying to hide the erection he was sprouting.”
This caused both of them to start giggling again. I knew that I should have stopped listening a long time ago and ignore what I’d heard so far, but as an 18-year-old virgin, my hormones wouldn’t let me. As I waited for the giggle fit to cease, I slowly crept myself towards the window; hoping to catch a peek at them in this lustful conversation. As I pressed myself against the wall at the window’s edge, barely pulling the blinds back so I could look out, I was surprised by the way the conversation next steered.
“Who do you think he was looking at more, me or you?” my sister asked. Despite her earlier claim, Rheta was clearly becoming comfortable with this conversation, and the incestuous nature of its topic.
“Honestly, I think he spent all his energy focusing on not staring that I don’t think he took full advantage of our display,” Mom replied. Seeing the confusion on Rheta’s face at this comment, Mom elaborated, “Since you were so busy trying to catch his dick growing-”
“I was merely making sure that your ridiculous plan actually worked, which it didn’t by the way,” interrupted my sister.
The smile Mom gave to this was both ‘gotchya’ and amused pity. “Like I said, your brother was too busy trying not to get an erection, staring into nothing, for him to choose which of us he found hotter. Although, even if he did pay attention to us, I’m not sure he’d be able to decide.” If that wasn’t the truth, I don’t know what was. Hearing this was making me just as hard as seeing them earlier had, and I had half a mind to go out there show them what they did to me. I probably would have had I been 1,000,000,000% sure that they’d join me in being exposed and down to fuck.
But, alas, I couldn’t cross that line.
We were at this cottage for another two weeks, in which the sexual tension only got worse. It was torture as the two of them continued wearing matching clothes just in different colours. One day black and white, the next silver and gold. The worst was the day the cottagers on the lake all got on their boats, adorned with Christmas lights and putted down the lake as they all celebrated Christmas in July; Mom and Rheta had matching striped red and green bikinis with white snowflakes where their nipples would be, as well as the centre of the crotch on the bottoms (these were also yin-yang-ed so that where Mom’s had a green stripe, Rhe’s would have a red one and vise versa). I nearly came in my shorts when I saw that these suits’ bottoms didn’t cover their full asses, leaving about a quarter of each cheek exposed to my bulging eyes.
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