Crazy
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My sister is twenty months younger than me. We’ve always been good friends, but we were never really close. A couple of months ago, something happened. I think she finally realized that I was leaving home. I was going to the army, and she’d be left alone.
She invited me on a hiking trip to the mountains. She’s the expert when it comes to planning such hikes. There was running water, and beautiful flowers, and even small forest animals. And we were only 20 kilometers from home. On our way, we discussed all those things that were happening in our lives: interesting things that none of us knew about the other person.
She told me how she felt about graduating from highschool. I never bothered to ask her about it. She told me about keeping in touch with her friends from school – something I didn’t do myself. She told me about her plans for the future. She told me what she would like to be.
And it was great. I told her about the evils of Marxism, and about fighting our Epicurean nature. I described to her a detailed roadmap to solving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I taught her about electromagnetic waves cooking her meals, about the roles of universal inflation, and how long it takes for spaceships to travel to Mars.
Eight straight hours of walking later, we were tired. We sat on a big rock that was shaded by a bigger tree. We ate some sandwiches she had prepared earlier. And then she made that silly face that pretty girls make when they try to be serious, and she said, “You’re the most interesting person I’ve talked to in a very long time.”
At that moment, I was thinking about two things. First, I wondered how she could have missed my genius till then. I mean, we had lived in the same house for almost eighteen years. Everybody else knew I had a brilliant mind. How could she of all people overlook it? But then, or perhaps even before then, I realized that her words meant a lot more than this. She was right: our conversation was the most amazing experience I had that year.
I took that thought home with me, and for the next month I talked to her more often than to anybody else. Whenever she came home, I asked her about her day. Other times, she would come to me and ask me a question about life. It might sound like an overdriven cliché, but it’s the truth. I taught her how the world works, and she taught me about the human mind.
I’ve had many successful and more-or-less fulfilling relationships in my life, so hearing stories about similar relationships shouldn’t have affected me at all. But it did. You see, no matter how close to women I was in the past, I never truly grasped how simple and naive their minds are. With her, I knew. And she wouldn’t even hide it. She wasn’t trying to appear mysterious, as most trendy girls try to be. She was talking not only to me, but also for me.
So unsurprisingly and quite alarmingly, I found that attractive. It didn’t take long for me to realize that she was attracted to me as well.
About two weeks ago, I found myself shaving in the bathroom. Now, we have those semi-transparent shower walls (they’re actually sliding doors) that let you see colors through them, but not shapes - you know, instead of curtains. My sister was obviously in a hurry, because she entered the bathroom, covered with a bath towel. She then got into the shower area, closed the doors, and removed the towel.
All this could have been explained as a typical act of a sister in a hurry. But, luckily, it wasn’t as simple. Let me explain what really happened there. She entered the room, so instinctively I turned towards her. She gave me a cute little smile, and added a squeaky “hey.” She then proceeded towards the shower.
I went on with my shaving, at least in appearance. The mirror, which faced the bath, gave me a clear view of what she was doing. She slid the shower doors open, and got in. BEFORE actually closing the doors, she removed the towel. I could see her curvaceous body and shiny skin. I also caught a seductive nipple, before she closed the doors.
I spent the rest of my shaving admiring her sexy pinkish color tones. She was my sister, same blood, same parents. And it didn’t change the fact, not by one bit, that she was also one hot ready-to-fuck babe.
Time passed. I was sitting comfortably on my bed reading Chuck Palahniuk’s new novel, Diary. The day was today; the time was a few hours ago. My parents were away, and she entered the room.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“A group of Thai tourists checked in today.”
She was about to tell a story. I put my book away, and freed some room for her. She positioned herself right next to me, resting on my hugging arm. I moved her closer, and warped my arm around her. It was very cozy, for both of us.
She works in an expensive hotel in the city. She told me about Thai tourists who tried to talk to the elevators, because, so it turned out, elevators have voice recognition systems in Thailand. I didn’t know that.
During our talk, I rubbed her belly, then her leg. It was exciting and she didn’t mind. She even cuddled strategically, so that my arm would touch her breast. That was exciting too.
She’ll be eighteen, in two weeks.
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"Always do right - this will gratify some and astonish the rest."
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