If my parents suspected anything, they never said. Frankly it served them right. It was all their fault, after all.
*
That big April fuckfest weekend turned out to be a turning point. It felt like this big moment, a beginning of something even greater. We’d even jokingly named the whole thing Emancipenis (or Emancipussy, depending on who was talking) Weekend because we felt like we had some freedom for the first time in our lives.
Emily had even made an Emancipenis Proclamation speech while riding my cock on the dining room table. There was much applause, I promise you.
I could only imagine where we would go from there and I guess Emily felt the same because now nothing seemed to live up to it. Having to hump quietly in our basement hideaway just didn’t have the same appeal after screaming orgasms echoing throughout the house.
We tried a public bench one afternoon, but chickened out at the last minute. There was risky and then there was stupid. That’s what I told Emily, anyway. We really could go too far.
Life started to intrude, as well. I was a month from graduation and I still hadn’t heard about my scholarship. It made me stressed and mopey which just sucked away my energy for sex. Emily wasn’t around often enough for it to matter, anyway. Finals hit hard and she basically disappeared from the basement. She was either studying in her room or at the college library and I almost never saw her.
I knew it was OK, that it was just a thing we had to go through, but one night I got scared. I knocked on her door and she let me in. Her room was covered in dirty clothes and discarded paper plates — the bed, the floor, everywhere.
Emily was wearing a big maroon sweatshirt with grey sweatpants. She had her glasses on, which I almost never saw. She barely looked up from her book when I walked in. We talked for a second, just about boring stuff, and then Emily asked if I wanted anything because otherwise she was busy. With the clock ticking I managed to just spit it out.
“Emily I know you’re super busy and if that’s all it is that’s fine I’m just worried. Are we breaking up?”
“What?” my sister said, looking at me for the first time, “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
So I let her get back to studying. But I swore I heard her crying as I closed the door behind me.
*
It was the middle of May. A drippy, dreary day that seemed to demand everyone stay inside. My Mom was upstairs making dinner and my Dad was in the dining room doing a work thing.
Finals were over. Emily was still sweating out test scores, but her time was, once again, her own. I’d gotten the scholarship and I’d be starting at Messiah in the fall. We would still be close enough to see each other — it was only a three hour drive away — but still.
For what felt like the first time in forever, my sister had joined me down in what I’d come to think of as our ‘playroom.’ The basement was lousy when it rained — it felt damp and stank of mildew, so we sat fully clothed on the couch, wrapped in a heavy knit blanket.
We hadn’t fucked in days — really hadn’t been regular for weeks. By this point, my balls had been trained to produce multiple loads of cum for my sister every day. Now it was all just building up in there. Worse, my cock had grown accustomed to Emily’s pussy (and her mouth, and her hands, and her tits). Jerking off felt strangely empty and unsatisfying.
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