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The Key

by Cal Y. Pygia 12/17/05

"Chad!" she whispered, as if she were surprised. "I didn't know you were there!" Even then, she made no move to pick up the pillow or hightail it to her room. Pretending to be paralyzed with shock or outrage or embarrassment or whatever, she stood there, letting me look at her naked body for half a minute or more. Then, she snatched the pillow from the floor and scurried into her room, giving me another look at her bare ass in the process. She didn't slam her door; she shut it ever so gently. Sometimes, I think maybe Laurie was trying to get me to do more than look at her naked body.

That's the way he concluded his anecdotes--the same way as always, having recited the exact words he's used all the many other times he's recounted these same stories and ending his accounts with the same statement: "Sometimes, I think maybe Laurie was trying to get me to do more than look at her naked body."

I've never asked him this question before, but, feeling perverse--and living dangerously--I decide to tweak him with it this time, so I ask, "Have you and Laurie ever dome anything?"

He scrunches up his brow at me. "Like what?"

"You know."

"Hell no! That's fucking gross, man. Laurie's my sister."

"She doesn't seem to mind you taking a peek now and then--and more than a peek."

"That's different. She's a chick. All chicks are exhibitionists."

"Even sisters?"

"Of course. Hasn't Katie ever showed you her body?"

No, I thought, unfortunately she never had. I shook my head. "She hasn't." But I wished she had.

"She will," Chad predicted.

"Not Katie."

"Sure she will. She's a girl, isn't she?"

"She never has."

"All she needs is the opportunity; she already has the means and the motive."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

I thought of the key in my pocket--the key to the adjoining door between Katie's bedroom and my own. She could have the opportunity, I thought. The key seemed red hot, as if it might burn a hole in my pocket.

"Where you going?" Chad asked as I headed for his door. "I just got a new Playboy."

"I'll check it out next time," I answered. "I have to be getting home."

When I reached my house, I went straight upstairs to my room. As I'd hoped, the key was gone. Mom, having remembered or missed it, had retrieved it. The lock looked the same. To test it, I removed the key from my pocket, inserted it softly into the lock--it fit as well as a cock inside a virgin's cunt--and gently turned it to the left. The lock opened, and I could ease the door forward on its hinges. The rectangular panel of wood that had so long denied me access to my sister's bedroom swung open, and I saw Katie's inner sanctum--the full-length mirror on the inside of her bedroom door, the mirror over her dresser, the posters of teen heartthrobs on her walls, her desk and chair, her night table, and the dolls and teddy bears seated or lying on her bed. I thought of the many times she may have stood naked before one of those mirrors, admiring the soft slopes of her breasts, the swelling curves of her hips, and the round mounds of her silk-soft derriere. I thought of her trying on her bras and panties. Had she studied the budding of her breasts at puberty, wondering how her blossoming bosom stacked up against the other girls in school? Had she touched herself the way she'd imagined a favorite boy in school might touch her? Had Katie wanted to share the sights of her tits and ass and cunt with her sibling? Had she slipped her finger between her labia and fingered the slick clitoris within her tender, wet cunt, thinking, perhaps, of my hand in place of her own? Had she lain in bed, on her back, with her thighs spread wide, masturbating with a dildo and wishing that the artificial prick were, instead, her brother's warm, hard cock?

Probably not, I told myself, but I could wish, couldn't I?

I hesitated. I wanted to cross the threshold and enter the forbidden interior of my sister's private chamber, but to do so would be risky. What if Mom caught me trespassing on my sister's sanctuary? What if Dad saw me invading my sister's boudoir? If that happened, the least I'd have to worry about would be the loss of my key.

But I could be careful, couldn't I?

I would be careful.

Very careful.

And I wouldn't stay long.

Just long enough to touch the blanket and sheets upon which my sister lay--thinking, perhaps, of me. Just long enough to open her drawers and touch the silk and satin of her panties and the ribbons of her lacey bras.

My cock was hard, and my balls had risen inside my tightened scrotum.

I really shouldn't, I thought.

Maybe, for just a moment. . . .

I stepped over the threshold, into my sister's room--and it was wonderful, just to be here, in the same room where Katie had stood naked, where Katie had dressed and undressed, where Katie had, no doubt, masturbated, her mind awhirl with thoughts of sex.

I crossed the room, to Katie's dresser. I opened the top drawer. As I'd supposed, she used this drawer for her underwear. It was full of panties--a garden of panties, a rainbow of them. Red panties, pink pantries, white panties, black panties, blue panties, green panties, and more, in ten or more different hues and shades. Some were cotton; others were silk; still others were satin. A few pair were, like Laurie's, thongs. Like Chad's sister, my sister also wore thongs! The thought of my sister wearing thong panties was almost more than I could bear; I almost lost it then and there, spurting my seed over the top of my sister's dresser, into the mirror behind the chest of drawers, and onto the panties inside the opened drawer.

Instead, I closed the drawer and strode to my sister's bed. I stood beside the frame, letting my fingertips trail lightly over the blanket and the rumpled sheets. I smiled. Katie was always so neat and clean. I'd never have thought that, like her brother, she didn't make her bed in the morning. Maybe Katie was more like me than I'd supposed, I thought. After all, we both had the same parents. Maybe she'd thought the same thoughts about me as I'd entertained about her. Maybe she'd imagined me naked, as I'd imagined her naked. Maybe she'd opened her legs to me, accepting the offer of my erection as I'd lain between her parted thighs and thrust my member into her moist, soft center. Maybe, I thought, but probably not.

I was pressing my luck, I told myself. I was being foolish.

I decided to return to my own room, close and lock the connecting door, and return the key to my pocket before Mom or Dad--or Katie herself--caught me snooping around in my sister's room.

Before I did, though, on an impulse, I entered my sister's walk-in closet. It was stuffed with clothes and shoes. There was something else in the closet, too, against the back wall, about three feet from the carpeted floor, above a small pillow that seemed to have been placed there on purpose, as a cushion upon which to kneel. An eyehole. Kneeling on the pillow--it had been the presence of the pillow, out of place as it was, that had alerted me to the presence of the hole in the wall above it--I placed my eye to the hole and was shocked to find myself gazing into my own room. I was looking directly into my own bed. Last night, I'd heard Katie shuffling around in her closet, but I'd thought nothing of it. Probably, I'd told myself, she was picking out the outfit that she'd wear to school or work the next day or she was trying to find the one pair of shoes among the fifty that she owned that would perfectly complement some skirt or pair of slacks. Now that I'd seen the peephole, however, another possibility--a much less innocent and far more exciting possibility--presented itself. Maybe my not-so-innocent sister had been spying on me!

I gulped, feeling the blood rise in my face as I blushed. If she had been spying on me, she'd have seen quite an eyeful, I thought, for, last night, as I'd lain in bed naked, thinking that my sister might be lying in bed naked in the adjoining room, I'd masturbated. Had she seen my cock standing upright, stiff and swollen, against my belly as, with my fist tightly closed around the thick shaft of my prick, I'd pumped the tight skin up and down, faster and harder, on the straining shaft until, at last, my semen had erupted, spewing all over my chest, belly, and pubes? As hard as it was for me to accept, this seemed a likely scenario. If Chad were right about girls (which was doubtful), they were all exhibitionists.

It seemed likely that Katie was also a voyeur.

I rose, exiting the closet, and returned to my room. I closed and locked the door, slipping the key into my pocket, and smiled.

If Katie liked to watch, I thought, I'd give her something she'd enjoy seeing.

I gathered a couple of textbooks, a notebook, and a pen, and went downstairs, pretending to study. Actually, I just wanted to be downstairs when Katie got home from her shift at Food Fest. I figured she'd want to go straight upstairs, take a hot shower, and recuperate from a long, hard day at work.

She got home a little after 10:00, and, just as I'd anticipated, after nodding hello to me, she climbed the stairs and, a few minutes later, I heard the water running in the bathroom as she showered.

On the way upstairs to my room, I checked on Mom and Dad. Predictably, they were ensconced on the living sofa, like good couch potatoes, watching some terrible Bette Davis movie on a classic movies channel.

"Good movie?" I asked.

"Great," Mom declared.

"They don't make them like this anymore," Dad asserted. "I don't know how you kids can watch the junk they put on TV nowadays."

"Is it going to be on much longer?" I asked.

My parents gave each other a quizzical look. Why did their son care about the length of their movie?

Hastily, I added, "Maybe I'll watch the rest of it with you."

"It's just starting," Dad informed me.

"Oh. In that case, I think I'll go to bed." With sis, I hope.

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