(I think this got flagged for a duplicate title when it was meant as pt. 1 & pt. 2. Only pt 2 got posted.)

**Not really a quick stroker. I like the psychological ones.

I pushed open Mee-Maw's front door, and the first thing that I saw was a circle of old ladies slapping down playing cards.Whack! Right on the bright oak card table in the sunroom. Mama Poppins and the Blue Silvers, that was the name that grandad gave their Canasta group back when he was still kicking. Sounded like a band, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. Bloody ruthless was what those old ladies were.

"Oh dear, Ruth. I'm afraid I just drew a ten, and I just happened to have six others, which completes my last natural book. So I'm out. How many points did I catch you with? Oh, oh my! Poor Ruthy. That's a lot. You'll catch up, I'm sure. Would you be a dear and slide me my winnings?"

Twenty a hand, fifty for the night, which wasn't too bad considering that a hand of Canasta could stretch half an hour or more.

I caught "Poor Ruthy's" eye as soon as I stepped into the foyer.

"Jimmy's here, girls. There's Jimmy."

"Well, hello!"

"James! This is a treat."

"Hi Jimmy."

The last one waggled her eyebrows, and all the ladies hooted and hollered. To this day, I couldn't tell if Edna Jones was fucking with me or not.

I hung up my coat. "Hi Mee-Maw. Ladies. Is, um--" I really hated saying this, but it might well have been grandpa's catchphrase. He'd saunter through, watch for a minute, rub his hands together, and say, "Is Mamma Poppin' tonight?"

So I said the thing. The other girls squealed with laughter. "Not yet!" The table shook as they slapped it. Ice cubes rattled and sloshed clear up to tease the rim of their sweet tea pitcher. Always a joke somewhere to be told with this group.

Mee-Maw's laughter died first. She got a faraway squint about her eyes, underlined with an almost-smile. Yeah, grandpa was a lot of fun. She pursed her lips and settled her gaze on me. Happy-sad.

I pointed to the staircase. "Trissy?"

Mee-Maw nodded, trying to keep it on the down low, but Mary Tucker caught on and said, "I don't think your sister's come down from her room all day."

"Must have a boy up there," Edna said.

"Again."

"Again, again."

Mee-Maw threw up her hands and chuckled. She could hardly refute it, at least, from what I'd been told.

I supposed I had a mission. I rapped my knuckles twice on the bannister. "Good seeing you ladies again." I nodded to Mee-Maw, a bit of private communication, and walked up the stairs.

Curse these old houses and their narrow corridors; I had to hug the handrail to keep from brushing into all the family photos that Mee-Maw had hung--quite precariously--along the wall leading up.

Lots and lots of pics of me and Triss together, at least, when we were young. About halfway up the stairs, there was a stark transition. The photos were either a picture of me with Dad doing something like skiing out at Whistler, or the photos were of Triss with Mom--and always with those two in the same place: The living room of our old single-wide. It made sense when I considered that all of Triss's pics were taken by Mee-Maw when she'd visited.

In the early ones, Triss had her scrunchy-faced, gap-toothed smile, and her silly horn-rimmed glasses that distorted her eyes to be huge. She'd be blowing out the candles for her seventh birthday or, Ha!, the one where she hung in midair after Dad chucked her onto the trampoline. That one even captured her glasses flying off her face.

The thing of it was, it wasn't that Triss smiled less in the post-divorce pics. It was that she smiled more, a bigger cheesier smile as if she had to lie for the camera.

Then she got contacts and highlights and acrylic nails and neither her knees nor her midriff ever saw a shred of fabric again. She still had that gap between her front teeth, but it looked dirty, not cute. The very last picture was of a full fledged trailer park queen, eyes as red as the devil, gripping a kitchen chair to hold herself upright at Mee-Maw's seventieth.

That one, nah, I didn't know who that girl was, but she wasn't my sister.

At the top of the stairs, I found Mee-Maw's guest bedroom just off to the left. I knocked, but I didn't speak.

"Just a second!" The voice inside was shrill and cheerful.

I let my mind wander to the girl on the trampoline. But when the door opened, I met the trailer park queen.

Whatever smile Triss had slid right off her face. "Oh, hi, Jimmy," she said very politely, "I thought you were Mee-Maw." I saw her clench her jaw, but not from drugs. "What's up?" That line was icy.

Blonde, shapely--Triss could have been such a beautiful girl, my once lovely little sister. But now, even at just a shade over twenty-three, her cheeks had already begun to sink into her face. She covered up those burgeoning flaws by, ironically, showing even more skin: A crop top so tight, her breasts rolled over the edges and jeans with far too many holes cut into the inside of her thighs. My sister appeared as a patchwork of bare skin strung together with a few ribbons of cloth.

"I just wanted to visit." Flat, monotone. I couldn't help it.

Her veneer snapped. She rolled her eyes, really made a big production of it. She even did that--Urgh!--little head bobble thing. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to see how you were doing." And hopefully not strangle her.

"Uh, yeah. That's what I just asked: Why?"

"Because I love--"

"You tool. Funny how all you people didn't give one shit about me until after I made a big production of getting clean and giving my life over to the lord and--are you staring at my tits?"

I actually wasn't. I pointed to the little golden cross dangling from her neck. "Does that mean anything?"

"Yeah, it does." She turned her back to me, walked away, and sat on the edge of the bed, right on our late-great Aunt Ruth's handmade duvet cover that was folded up on the end. She picked at the holes in her jeans. "It means I can stay here."

"Jesus Christ, Triss." I peeked down the hall, then walked in and shut the door behind me. Was this that thing where they self-sabotaged? What if Mee-Maw had heard her?

"Jeesh, Jimmy. Don't take my Lord's name in vain," she said. So catty.

It was never her words; it was always her tone. She found an angle that irked me, pricked those fake nails under my skin a little prod at a time, and twisted them into the muscle--and she did it entirely for the laughs.

"You don't always have to be a--a cunt." I snapped my fingers. "And they were talking about false believers, not curses, which would be you."

She winced. "Geesh Jimmy. I mean, tell me how you really feel."

She'd always done this, said innocent things in a catty way, then when I reacted, she could go and act all innocent and cry to mom, "I didn't say anything! He just got mean all of a sudden"

"Why do you have to be like this, Triss? I just stopped by to say hi."

"Bullshit. Dad was probably all worried about Mee-Maw. 'Oh, can't let my cunt of a daughter steal all Mee-Maw's shit.'"

"Examine yourself for once. Is he wrong to think that about you given--"

She was up in a flash. Had me backed against the wall, poking her finger into my chest, spittle flying. "I've never stolen a goddamn thing in my life, which, um, let me check. You wouldn't know."

"Triss," I said in a very even tone, "lower your voice. Mee-Maw is just downstairs." When I said that, Triss seemed to get it. It wasn't that she didn't understand these things; she just didn't care enough to respect conventions, which made it all the more infuriating. Just be reasonable like this! It's fucking easy.

I put my arms on her shoulders. I felt her muscles relax, something about that physical touch really settled her. "I'm here for you, nobody else. I'm worried about you. And I wanted to see you."

"Yeah, well..." I think she wanted to say something catty, but she trailed off. She couldn't look me in the eye, either.

It seemed right in the moment. I rested my forehead against hers, looked her right in the eye, and said, "I love you." I supposed I did.

Her eyes locked onto mine for a moment. Something flashed there. Something--I don't know--vulnerable. Felt like she'd finally latched onto something I said. It was a nice moment. I rubbed her shoulders and smiled.

But then she mashed her lips into mine.

I shoved her away, rejected her immediately. I didn't--what the fuck? She stared at the floor, all hunched over and shaken. Her eyes went shock-wide, she covered her mouth, and when she finally looked up at me she stuttered out, "It was the methadone. Sometimes it--it--"

"It's fine," I said. Triss still couldn't take a shred of accountability, always someone or something else making her do it.

I stood over her in silence. The jitters crawled up her skin, plain as day. She began scratching her forearm. She'd stop for a moment, and her purple acrylics would pick, pick, pick at her skin. Red dots of irritation began to appear.

"Are you using?" I had to ask. I'd read what those behaviors meant.

Triss shook her head and seemingly reluctantly, stopped digging her nails into her skin. She picked at the frays on her jeans instead. "Just the, you know." She nodded back to a prescription bottle on the nightstand.

"That's it?" I folded my arms.

That girl, if she hung her head any lower, she'd kiss the floor. She shook her head just a fraction. One of her arms hugged her chest; a purple nail pointed to her gym bag. "I got a joint in there."

"Jesus Christ, Triss." I had to dig my thumbnail into my forefinger to keep an even keel. "You got one chance here. That's it. You fuck this up, and I don't know, the family's 'pry just gonna wash their hands of you. You get that?"

She peeked up at me with a wry gleam.

"You think this is funny?"

That got me a real grin from her. Infuriating. "No," Trish said, "you just, ya know, sound like Dad."

"Maybe because he's right. If you'd stop with all the backsass and take a--"

"Fucking Jimmy, I didn't mean it like that. Always right to the worst with me, huh?" She took a breath. "I just meant, it was kinda nice to hear him every now and then. Even if it's not nice."

"You just talked to him--"

"Four years since Mee-Maw's seventieth. But, you know--" She winked, apparently drawing on that endless supply of self-confidence that she has. "--I don't really remember that shit, though."

"Bullshit. When you were at the, um, the place getting fixed, I know Dad drove down to visit."

"He swung by the house and got a report from Mee-Maw. Prolly gave her some money or something." She arched back on the bed. I noticed her slide her thighs once together and idly kick her legs. "Prolly paying her to keep me here."

"He told me he..."

Triss shrugged, like it wasn't a thing.

She was lying. She had to be. Dad specifically told me he went down to the clinic to visit her. Fucking Triss, lying about stupid shit again.

She watched my face with glee. Fucking Triss. "Always thinking the worst about me." She sure made it hard not to.

Whatever. I did what I said I'd do. I checked up on her and Mee-Maw. "I gotta go," I said.

"Hmm? Already?" She turned out her lip in a melodramatic pout. Honest to God, I couldn't tell if she wanted me to go or stay.

I scratched my wrist. "Yeah, it was a long drive. I'm gonna go see Teddy while I'm in town." What was I even saying? I didn't owe her any excuses.

"'Kay." She dismissed me. But true to Triss, she simply could not leave it lie, either. In an offhanded voice she muttered, "Hmm. Welp, guess I'll call up Dusty to come over and fuck me."

This fucking girl! "Triss! We just--I just explained this to you. Your actions will have consequences." Wished I could just tie her down until she saw reason.

"Oh? You're still here." She scratched at her nails and blew on her middle finger. Such a rehearsed act.

I threw up my hands and laughed. "I just want to fucking strangle you."

She didn't look up from her nails. "Okay, Dad. Ta-ta. Toodeloo." She waved me out the door.

I could cry. Or stuff a sock in her mouth. Either one. I sat down on the bed next to her and peeled my hand down my face. "What do you want?"

She hooked her finger around and pointed to the old bubble box TV in the corner. The only thing attached to it was Uncle Renny's old Nintendo set.

"Really?" I couldn't believe it. "It's got one game."

"Yeah, the flappy horse-cock punchy game."

"They're ostriches. It says so right on the cover. And they're jousting. On the ostriches." I realized how stupid that sounded right at the end.

"I know." She flashed me her teeth, even got so cheeky as to poke her tongue through her front tooth gap.

Something about that. So ornery and kiddish, like she was in our old pictures. I felt the tug of a smile, too.

The lamp in the corner ignited all the frazzles in her hair. Almost looked like a minor halo had permeated between her naughty tufts. Captivating. And then I saw her nappy pink highlights, oof, probably clip in extensions, too. Shade crept into her cheeks, exposing just how hollow they'd become. It slipped beneath her full cake of makeup and filled in shallow crevices around her eyes, chicken scratches. Poor girl, could have been so beautiful. But I supposed in the right light, she wore trashy well.

"Alright," I said, "but I get the chair."

"Winner gets the chair."

"That's what I said."

"Prick." She hopped up, and with itty-bitty shuffle steps, she dragged Uncle Benny's old white wicker chair out of the corner and in front of the TV. "Your throne, your highness." Triss even bowed. That girl, ornery as a cat and just as predatory to boot.

"At least you finally learned how to talk to me."

Triss propped her hand on her hips and wagged her other finger. Absolute bitchiness, unrepentantly so. "Now you really sound like Dad."

"Yeah, well, you sound like Mom."

Triss waved her hand, yeah, whatever. "I know I'm a slut. But I got d' goods." She threw signs at her chest.

She wasn't wrong, at least, as long as Mee-Maw fed her well. Certainly, Mee-Maw would.

We fired up the game and strung out the controllers. I sat on my "throne."

Triss plopped her butt down right on the floor in front of me. She started out criss-cross applesauce, but ended up with her legs crassly spread out and her body slouched back against the wicker chair, right between my legs. It took her a few positions to find a comfortable one where, presumably, the wicker splines weren't poking the back of her head funny.

Uncle Renny's Joust game was the button masher to end all button mashers. Spam the "A" button to fly. Then you ran into each other and whichever jouster was the highest up in the air won the joust. At least, until the pterodactyls came out. Then it was fly to survive.

I won. Repeatedly. Then a pterodactyl ate me.

"Switch, bitch!" My sister hopped up and claimed my throne.

I sat in the bitch seat in front of the chair. Damn TV was so small, had to sit three feet from it to see. You'll burn out your eyes, kids! Mee-Maw's voice rattled in my head, but I was far too focused on mashing buttons to care.

I leaned forward, really getting into the game.

I felt a weight hook over my shoulder. My sister slung one leg over me and then two. She hung her knees on my shoulders and rested her calves against my chest. Her bare toes wiggled on my lap. Fucking Triss. She even rested her hands on the top of my head.

"I'm not an end table."

"Shut up, bitch!" She laughed and wriggled forward. Her thighs cheekily pinched the sides of my head. They made for surprisingly soft cushions considering how waifish she'd become.

A pterodactyl flew in from the right. Womp, womp, womp, womp, womp. I mashed the hell outa that "A" button. The unbeatable pterodactyl? Ha! You just have to hit them right. Pchew, pchew, pchew. One spawned right in the middle. I swooped in from above and--

My vision went dark.

"You shit!" I peeled my sister's hands away from my eyes, but my bird had already exploded.

She giggled, just absolutely delighted. "Stay in the bitch seat, bitch boy!"

"...never stole nothing, my ass. Stole that win, cheating skank." I grumbled and leaned my head back. However, instead of thumping against the hard wicker threads like I'd expected, the back of my head nuzzled into something much softer. Her thighs clamped down against my ears. I wiggled my head left and right.

It dawned on me where I was. "Oh shit. Sorry." I leaned forward. My face burned. I'd lounged right against my sister's crotch.

"It's fine." I could hear the shrug in her voice. Triss' long nails grazed through my hair, back and forth, lull me to sleep. I think I finally understood their allure.

"Here," her voice had taken on an airy edge, "the wicker sucks." She wrapped her fingers around my forehead and pulled my head back to where it was before.

"Triss, you shouldn't--"

"Shush!" She'd already leaned over me, her arms rested on top of my head once again.

I--

I guess it was just jeans and a zipper. And she didn't care. She didn't even really notice, it seemed, just a casual monkey girl on my back.

A niggling thought tugged at the back of my mind: How many guys had been just on the other side of her zipper? I figured I'd need all my fingers and toes to count that, and I'd probably need to borrow all of hers, too.

Girl jeans were so soft. I laid my head off to one side. My cheek squished against her thigh as I spammed buttons on my controller. I breathed in. My sister smelled like Tide and sweat with a hint of something even sharper. Just past my nose, a frayed hole in her denim exposed her pasty white thighs, and from there, it'd be a straight shot up into her--

Pchew. The pterodactyl killed us both. It switched back to the main screen. The game's preview looped over and over. The ostrich's legs skittered and jumped. The sprite killed a goon, then two, but the third goon finally killed it. Loop back, start over.

The room was dark. We'd been playing for a while. 8-bit flickers splashed on our clothes, all in reds and whites. She held the controller out in one hand; the other grazed its nails through my hair.

"That feels nice," I said.

"I know. Dad--" Her voice hitched. She collected herself. "Dad used to do this when I'd be sitting there watching Dora. He'd scratch my ears, and say, 'Swiper, no swiping,' and it used to piss me off to no end because it didn't even make sense! 'You don't say it like that, Dad!' That's what you say when that little fox prick stole some shit. I mean, you get that, right?"

I think I was starting to.

She rubbed my earlobes, tenderly, motherly. I could sleep between her thighs. She had me so relaxed in that moment that my thought didn't even seem wrong.

"I always wished I had someone to do this to," she mused.

I mumbled something back, then realized I was half-asleep, and I'd spoken mostly with my dream voice.

"Hmm?" My sister's voice was coy. Her nails grazed down my cheeks. Her thumb brushed the rim of my ear. It triggered a swarm of butterflies to flitter into my spine.

"I said that's weird since you've been with a lot of guys," I repeated.

She stopped.

I heard her sigh, and she pushed me forward and stepped around me. Her bare feet padded over to the bed, and she plopped her butt down on the edge. "Tons of 'em." She crossed her arms. "Tons and tons and tons and tons."

"And none of them wanted scritches?"

I saw her frown as she parsed what I'd just said. Then her posture relaxed. She dropped her arms, huffed, and gave me a half smile. "I thought you meant..." She shook her head. "Nevermind."

"No, bitch boy, none of them wanted scritches," she said.

"Did you even try?"

"It wasn't like that. Well--" She picked at her bottom lip. "--there was this one guy. He kept trying to, like, kiss the back of my hand, like old chivalry or something. But his timing was all fucked up."

I bit my cheeks. It was just like Triss to not recognize kindness. Probably why she kept the crowd she did. "How's that?" I asked.

"Well--" She kept picking at her lip, staring to some far off place. "--he kept trying to kiss my hands while he had me bent over a lawn chair, all fucked up and twisted to all sin. I guess he was trying to schmooze me after the fact or something."

Her phrasing confused my brain: 'Lawnchair,' 'after the fact.' "Were you dating?" I couldn't process it.

"When he wanted me, I guess." She huffed out a laugh. "Then he got to be, um, too much. Had to start fucking Randy Hawkins to get that freak off my case. Caught him jacking off on my toes one night."

"As in Rattail Randy, Martha's husband?"

"Yalp. We had a spot under the train bridge. He'd have me all balled up in the dirt, just ruttin' like mulies." She laughed again. "Then he got to be too much, and I had to start fucking DuWayne Hicks to get Randy to let me off my back. That's the trick, always find a bigger man." As an afterthought, she added, "DuWayne was decent."

I supposed out of habit, my brain ran her story through this algorithm. Should she have even been there in the first place? Did she know these guys were bad people and just didn't care? Were they dirty drug dealers? The one that really fucked me up, though, was when I asked myself if she'd been dressed like a skank. "I'm sorry."

"The fuck'd you do?"

"Nothing, I guess." I'd really never done a thing for her. I was too busy going skiing with Dad and Miss Beatrice.

"Whatever. It is what it is." Triss sniffled. "Hey, you wanna smoke a joint?"

"Triss, you can't--"

"I'm gonna smoke a fucking fatty." She hopped up and rummaged around in the front pocket of her Walmart special duffle bag. She pulled out a joint, I supposed. Looked like a cigarette that'd been pinched off on one end. Her fingertips grazed down its length; they smoothed the crinkles in the paper. Gently, she corrected the bow. Triss wrenched the end a few more twists; it made me think of tuning a guitar string.

She lifted it to her lips, slid it end to end through their slight parting, and blew all the tiny flakes of pocket soot off the bleached paper.

My trailer park queen of a sister then tapped the joint against her bottom lip. Her eyes rolled to the top of their sockets and peeked over at me. "Are you staring at me?" She had a hint of a smirk.

I deflected. "Don't do the drugs. Don't be an idiot."

She stuffed a towel in the crack under the door, then walked across the room, opened the window, and leaned out. Flick, flick. A lighter. Orange sparks flashed her face. The true flame ignited her skin.

"Triss, think."

"Uh huh." She rolled the tip of the joint over the flame. It smoldered. A black wisp curled off the tip and slithered under the raised window frame and on out into night time suburbia. As soon as the marijuana glowed, she puffed it in, apparently pure medicine.

Watching my sister, there was something about her lounging against the sill, staring up at the hazy light polluted night sky. The paper teased her lips. She drew the tail side to side in idle thought. The point tipped into her open mouth, slipped just up to her teeth. Her tongue might have touched it. Her lips smothered the wrapping wholly, and she sucked in a drag. Pheeew She blew it onto suburbia.

Her eyes flicked to me. "What? You gonna drag me out of Mee-Maw's?"

"That stuff smells like shit." If a skunk was burning rubber.

"Duh. That's why the window's open." She frowned and looked at the joint. "You wanna hit this?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"What? You a one and done bitch, too?"

"I don't do that stuff."

She seemed taken aback, like it was so unfathomably outside her purview. "Never?"

I shook my head.

"Come here." She patted the spot next to her.

"Triss..."

"Come here or I'll come over to you then the whole room will stink." She poked a sliver of tongue between the gap in her teeth. "Please?"

What sold me was her "innocent" little head tip. I shuffled over and plopped down with my back against the sill. "What do I do?"

"Here." So fucking lightly, she cupped my chin. "I'll hold it. You just suck."

She poked the skunk rubber thing into my mouth. A damp spot where her saliva had soaked into the paper cooled a pinprick on my lips. I took a drag. The paper crackled. The cherry blazed. Nasty tar flavored smoke roiled inside my mouth. I held it in for a moment and blew it out in one fat huff. That was easy.

Triss rolled her eyes and slapped my chest. She left her hand there. "You didn't even inhale."

"You didn't say that part."

"Now who's the sassy bitch?" Her fingernails strummed along my clavicle.

"You're making me do drugs." My affect was flat.

Her face hovered so closely that I saw a speck of orange floating inside her pupil. It took me a second, but I realized that was the cherry of her joint. She seemed to revel here in this minor tension. Her lips moved, her palm brushed my cheek, and she said, "I guess you'll just have to fuck somebody bigger than me then."

Cheeky girl. Could marijuana be absorbed sublingually? My heart knocked on my ribs.

Her mouth hung open just enough to expose half of her front teeth. The tip of her tongue drew a circle around the edge, her enormous pupils peeking up at me. After a moment, my sister said, "Let's try this."

Her long purple nails clipped the barest pinch of the joint's paper between them. She tickled her bottom lip with the stem, slow swirls. It entered her mouth. The underside of her tongue drew across the paper before retreating into her mouth. A wet spot darkened the top of the paper and saturated outward. Her top lip clamped down, and she sucked in a deep drag, but this one she didn't blow onto suburbia.

Her mouth opened wide. Beads of moisture shimmered inside, refracting the 8-bit flashes of the Nintendo set behind us. She leaned into me. I lurched back, but her hand clenched my jaw--hard this time. I could have pulled away, but I froze. Her eyes bored into mine, chicken scratch lines around the edges.

She squeezed my jaw apart. Slow and steady, her head turned sideways. Her open mouth wrapped around mine, dry lips, exposed wet hole. Her grip held me against her mouth, sealed me airtight.

Haaa... My sister breathed into me. It began with a minor procession of her humid breath. Her moisture tasted sooty, her skin smelled sweet, but then the drugs poured into my mouth. She blew dry bitter smoke across my tongue. A waft of that burnt rubber smelling shit puffed out of my nose. She pinched it shut and fed me more drugs from the depths of her lungs.

I had to breathe. I could pull away, but...

Sometime, I didn't know when, I'd laid my palm against the side of her ribs. My fingertips curled around and hooked her into me. I inhaled her smoke directly into my lungs. I'd tried cigarettes before. This burned rougher and pricked my throat about half way down. The more of my sister that I breathed into me, the greater that itch became.

I snorted. Smoke broke the seal and puffed out between our lips like a leaky steampipe. I snorted again. Oh God, it was coming. I brushed her off of me and hung my whole torso out the window. The steampipe blew and I spewed out every last waft of smoke that she'd blown into my lungs. Cough, cough. That triggered a whole coughing fit. I buried my mouth into my elbow to muffled the sound and coughed my heart straight out of my throat.

I heard her giggling. She scratched my back. I felt the inside of her thigh press against my bum. My sister was way too close.

Her thumb and forefinger pinched my earlobe and kneaded it like she was crimping the edges of a pie. She seemed to read my body language. When that almost got to be too much, she'd switch and scratch long slow strokes through my hair with her wonderful nails. I felt the insides of her thigh rub up my bum, just minor enough that she could deny it, but I felt it all the same.

"You gotta cough to get off," she whispered in my ear.

When I looked back, she was pulling away with a scrunchy-faced smile. I wished she still wore her glasses. She'd be so cute with those distorted bug eyes again.

My sister pulled her hands out of my hair and held up her forefinger. "One more," she told me.

I didn't reply. I turned around and oozed down the side of the sill and sat on the floor. My sister sat inside me. Her knees shimmied up the insides of my legs, splitting them open. It forced my own knees up higher and higher until my sister had me mashed back against the window, my legs all tangled around her.

She was so weird and audacious that I couldn't think of anything to say about it. That and she felt nice.

My sister grabbed her joint from the spot where she'd left it burning on the window sill and sucked down a drag. No prelude, no teasing, just a hungry "I want you in my lungs."

She covered my mouth with her lips once again. Once again I tasted her for just a moment before the invading drugs filled my mouth. I felt an itch on my throat, but this time, it wasn't overwhelming. This time, I felt bolder. I sucked her into me.

I didn't even know when my lips moved, but they did. Her drugs filled my lungs until she was empty, but I continued to suck her face into me with a dirty wet slurp. My arms wrapped under her armpits, almost like an unscrupulous wrestling move. I grabbed two fistfulls of her hair and mashed her whole face into me.

She responded immediately. Her hands clenched around the back of my neck--not quite a strangle because she pressed her thumbs into the underside of my jaw. She pinned me right back. She matched me tit for tat. A stalemate.

I licked her teeth. I poked a sliver of my tongue through the gap between her middle incisors. Hers poked through and met me from the other side. Cheeky girl. I slid my tongue down her teeth and rode the underside of her own tongue all the way into her mouth. Hers pinned mine down. I slipped out of her hold and rolled around on top. She batted me against her cheek.

My lungs were on fire. My ears began to ring. The corners of my vision dimmed. I needed to breathe.

She bit down on my tongue, just enough to clamp it in place as I tried to pull out of her mouth. Alright, fine. I didn't exhale outside. I blew the smoke out of my mouth and straight into hers. She sucked my breath down, still pinning my head in place. Since she'd claimed my mouth and refused to release it, I sucked in a stream of sweet air through my nose.

Our tongues battled again. Almost made me laugh the way it felt like a thumb war. I pulled down on her hair which ripped her head backwards. Her answer was to straddle up higher on my lap and press her thumbs into my esophagus. It hurt the way she held me.

Her hips rocked up and down. My fat cock had long since grown. She ground her sex into the bulge. Her mouth breathed into me. I took it. Almost no smoke left now, only her taste, that dirty bitterness.

We exchanged breaths twice more until she pulled away. I felt a tingle forming on the front of my brain. Strange.

Triss rose up on her knees. Oh that dirty crop top of hers. My eyes followed her "V" crease where her exposed midriff mated into her hips. It funneled into her jeans. My sister's fingers slipped behind the front of her waistband. Her thumb flicked open the front button of her jeans. Suave. She didn't even lower the zipper, she just ripped the front apart. Crude. When her front flapped open to reveal her bright panties trimmed in red lace, it finally dawned on me what was happening.

"Triss, you can't."

She bopped her forehead against mine, pressing me back. Triss savored the power of that spot, then quick as a snake bite, she slurped my bottom lip into and out of her hot mouth, which I supposed was my sister's version of a tender peck.

Her breaths sounded ragged. Her eyes--all pupil and glazed over red--appeared demonic. "But I can."

She dropped her jeans down to her knees. Her mound pooched the gusset out on her red panties. A damp circle bled through a thin swirl of lace.

"Do you really not want to?" Her long purple fingernail slid down her pooched out mons and through her crack below. She rolled back onto her squishy pale ass and kicked her jeans off her toes. Then my sister crawled up my legs and straddled her mound around my bulge, as in, her sex pressed against my sex.

She hooked her arms around my neck and dragged her crotch up and down my length. Her panties stroked my bulge long and slow. Her body drifted up and down, but her eyes stayed locked on me. "I like the way you feel," she said.

My brain fuzzed into mush. The marijuana? I zoned out watching her bare shoulders rock up and down. Then a gust of wind tickled the hairs on the back of my neck. The window was open! What if somebody had seen? What if Mee-Maw was out in the garden watching right now?

My heart leapt and splattered against my ribs. I gasped. That sudden intake peeled my heart off my bones. It hung there, dazed.

"Hey," Triss said. Her fingertip brushed down my lips. She pinched my chin and tipped my head up. "Just look at me."

It was good advice. I zoned out on her. My brain stayed fuzzy, but my heart relaxed.

Clitter-clank-clack. She opened my belt. My zipper dropped.

"I'm going to touch you now," my sister spoke into my ear. Her hot breath puffed down my canal. Her words rode their current, but their order had gotten all jumbled up along the way. When they reached my brain, it took a moment to parse.

She opened my boxers and grasped my cock. My sister, that trailer park queen, scraped her nails down my swollen urethra. That was too much, I bucked my hips up, and apparently, that was all the cue she needed.

Immediately, a scalding wet velvet enveloped my cock. Hmm. Was that, like, her thighs pressing my cock against my lap or something? The wet velvet clenched. Also, my cock wasn't lapped over on its side. My cock pointed straight up into the air, and with my sister straddling my lap, there was nowhere for my cock to go but up inside of her.

I pushed her back by her shoulders so I could see her face. "Triss, is that--"

Her voice sounded gentle and airy. "Yeah."

She didn't move her hips, though. Instead, my sister laid her cheek against my chest and clung to my shoulders, her pussy--my sister's muscle--sheathed around my cock.

I didn't say anything. I wrapped my arms around her back and traced my finger up and down the ridge of her shoulder blade. It was kind of fun. I lost myself to that minigame, totally zoned out once again. My little fingertip man would scale up her bony ramp and dive off the ledge. Ahh! Ded. Extra life, jump off again. Ahh! Ded.

Down below, her heat sweltered my balls. The skin of my cock drank the moisture directly off her walls. Occasionally I'd feel her clench, maybe just to double-check that I was still there.

It wasn't sex, not really. It was bizarre. It felt like the weirdest goddamn hug I'd ever had in my life. My sister hugged me with her vagina. But she seemed comfortable. It seemed that was what she really wanted.

Something even weirder happened. Her shoulders began to heave. I heard my sister whimper and sniffle.

"Triss--"

Her mouth slurped in my Adam's apple. The mind fuzz spread. My body felt like static. Her lips suckled my neck. Her limp tongue splooshed against my flesh and rolled around the bump in my neck. My sister, that wet sloppy girl.

Her shoulders still heaved. It sent tiny jolts all the way down to her thighs. Her pussy shuddered up and down. She wasn't tight; she wasn't loose; she was a glove made just for me. Her ridges caressed my shaft with every shudder.

She sucked my neck harder. There was teeth! Her saliva puddled around my collar. Down below, I felt a bead of her lubrication roll down the front of my balls and drip onto the floor. Wet sloppy girl.

I felt her nose blow shallow breaths down my neck. Her lips pulled away for a moment. The gust cooled the wet patch that she'd saturated into my skin. She sucked my throat back into her mouth.

Hot. I felt so hot. She did too. Our sweat merged at the union of our flesh. Her saliva, her sweat, her lubrication, hell even her tears soaked into my skin. Triss gave me everything she had.

In the eye of my mushy brain, I saw a vision of my atoms fusing into hers. I couldn't tell where my skin ended and hers began, our union was so complete. Fuzzy tingles prickled my limbs. My brain swelled up on a tide of warm fuzzies. It floated on top of the surge. Waves made it buoy. A freighter in a storm.

There was a chance I was high.

Her pussy clenched me. Her heaves moved me. I felt so warm.

With half a mind, I spoke into the ceiling. "Triss, I'm going to cum." I said it with an indifferent calmness, as if it was the most natural thing. Right now, I supposed it was.

My sister pulled her mouth off my neck. She clicked her throat and swallowed. The back of her hand wiped her nose. She sniffled. "I stopped taking the pill. It was fucking with my meds." Her mascara streaked down her face.

"That's fine." I felt like a sage staring off into the sky.

I hugged her against me. She curled her arms up tightly and buried her face in my chest. It dawned on me that if she was off contraceptives, it was a straight passage into her womb. We could not be more connected right now.

I was too spaced out to even notice an orgasm, if there was one. I just came. I shot ropes of cum straight into her womb. Splash. Splash. Splash. It felt so ordinary, as if I'd just decided to take a piss into her.

"That feels good," she whispered into my chest.

I shot another rope between her thighs, and the well dried up. My cock deflated, but still being inside her, it had enough stimulation to stay at half mast, still buried up to the hilt inside my sister.

Her pussy clenched and gaped. It spit up thick globs of my seed which lathered between our joined flesh. Melancholy sex.

I spaced out snuggled against her. Quite some time passed.

***********************

I didn't write this as a 2 part story, but it's too long for one. Sorry for the cutoff.

PART 2