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“I have this friend…”

5141 words | 0 |3.33

My sister, and I had the house to ourselves, but I had homework. So, I finished that in the kitchen, and went back to our room.

That’s a lie, or how a lot of stories start when you don’t want to tell the truth. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So, it’s not about you, it’s about this imaginary “Friend.” Maybe someone else you know who doesn’t want you talking about her, behind her back.

Now, my sister’s older, and normally she sleeps weird. On her side, but twisted around so her shoulders go one way, and her hips the other, but I heard her through the door.

She just said “Uh!” quiet like that, but when I walked in, she wasn’t taking a nap. She was on top of the covers for one thing, and naked for another. “NHM!” Then, her finger slipped out, and she yelled. “Don’t you knock?” She threw the pillow she had under her leg, and let of her boob. Oh yeah, and she had a boob in the other hand, but.

I pointed “You had your finger in your butt.” I saw it.

“I know?”


“Because my boyfriend is coming over later, and I just wanted to loosen up.” She sat up, and flipped the cap shut on a little squeeze bottle. “Huh, you know, anal?”

“Anal sex?” I shook my head, “Well, if he wants you to, but you don’t, you can just say no you know, and since when do you have a boyfriend?”

“Huh!” She smiled, and shook her head. Guilty, “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I actually like it.”

I giggled, “You like it up the butt.” I could barely even imagine, but I’m not really one of those girls. I know girls like that at school, or at least my friends talk about them, but we don’t hang out together, and I never talked to them. So, maybe it’s mean to talk about them behind their backs, when I don’t really know anything for sure, except the rumors my friends told me.

I had no idea that my own sister was that kind of girl, though. The kind of girl that played with herself, right here in our bedroom, let alone let her boyfriend stick it in her butt. Finally, she came back from the bathroom after cleaning herself up, and grabbed some clothes to put on, but as soon as I heard the bathroom door, I grabbed the squeeze bottle, and took it.

I ran out, while she was getting dressed, and when she came out. “Wow.”

“How do I look?” She put her hand up, and stuck her knee out. Her hips, and shoulders twisted 2 different ways. Skew I guess, that’s what the math teacher calls it when 2 lines aren’t parallel, but don’t intersect.

I shook my head, “Is that my top?”

“Yeah,” she stood up straight, “Is it okay if I borrow it?”

“Well, it doesn’t fit you no more.” It used to be her top, until she outgrew it.

“Well, that’s kind of the point.” She stuck her fingers in the neck to pull it up. “It’s tight, and it shows a little tummy.” She turned around, “And these skinny jeans give me an apple bottom.” She shook it, which just reminded me what she did, and what she was going to do.

“Why do do they call them that when it doesn’t look like an apple, or a tomato?” I turned my head, sideways. “Honestly, it looks more like a peach, or nectarine?” since peaches are hairy, and why am I even thinking about whether or not her butt is hairy?

She giggled, and turned around. “I sure don’t know.”

So, I covered my mouth, and giggled. “Well, if dad catches you coming home dressed like that…” I don’t know what he’d do. Honestly, he doesn’t spank her any more, and if he did. I giggled, imagining her over his knee, and her boobs hanging out the other side of his lap, but I couldn’t imagine his hand touching her bottom.

Not like that, not dressed like that especially. “Huh!” I wonder if that’s why he stopped giving her spankings?

“Well, we’re not going out. I told you, he’s coming over here.”

“When did you say that?”

“Uh,” she thought, “I don’t know, I. Guess, never mind.” She got frustrated. “No you know,” So confused that everything she says is even more confusing to me. “So, why don’t you find something else to do? Somewhere else, so we can have some privacy?”

“Oh, kay.” So, I went out to the back yard, before he showed up.

Not much to do besides kick through the leaves blown over in the corner. I guess I could get the rake, but then what? Rake them around, and pretend I’m sweeping the floor? How exciting, and one corner is as good as any other, but I just kicked them around in the corner. To hear them rustle, and smell the. Fall smell, when the dry leaves broke up, and let out that dry tannic smell.

“Huh!” It’s like tea! Of course, because it’s made out of tea leaves, I just never put the 2 together. I know, I’m nerdy, and I get enough shit about being such a bookworm at school. I guess that peroxide leached into her skull, and ate away her brain. You know what you call it when a blonde dyes her hair black? Artificial Intelligence.

The problem is, she’s not dumb. Not really, she just acts like a dumb blonde to fit in, I guess. Maybe to attract a boyfriend, but who wants a boy like that? That likes dumb blondes, and makes you act like something you’re not. For dick? It can’t be that great, honestly. It can’t be worth giving up so much just to get on the D.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Huh?” It’s just Jonny, the boy next door. “Oh nothing.” I shook my head, trying to remember where was I? Out in the back yard at first, but he startled me out of short-term memory.

“Me too, but what’s that?” He stuck his arm up over the fence, and pointed, or tried to. I rubbed my thumb with my fingers, and looked down. Snapped the cap back down on the little squeeze bottle, and pulled my fingers apart, but it left a little string of clear fluid, between my finger, and thumb.

“Uh,” I stuck it behind my back, “Nothing?” Intimate lubricant, it said on the bottle. Something about Glycerine, but it also said water based, so water was the first ingredient on the list, and it’s supposed to be safe for latex. Does that mean latex fetish, or just condoms? Of course they’re made of latex, that’s why they’re called rubbers.

“Sorry, just having an ADD moment. I forgot you’re there, but I get hyper-focused sometimes.”

“Well, you’re talking to yourself.”

“Oh? What about?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t hear it, because you’re muttering under your breath.”

“You’re a boy, right?”

“Last time I checked.” He looked down, but I had to imagine him pulling out the front of his pants, behind the fence.

“Well, what do you know about sex? You like sex, I mean. I’m sorry, that was rude.” Kinda sexist at least.

“Well, honestly, I don’t know. I guess I haven’t met the right girl.” It didn’t occur to me that ment that I wasn’t she.

“Well, I never really thought about it much, before.”

“Well, you must be about 10.” I nodded. 11, almost 12, but that’s about 10, so he just rounded down.

“Well, I guess that’s pretty normal, I was about your age when I started thinking about.” He stopped, and said “You know.”


“Well, women mostly. My mom’s got this friend, and sometimes, she wears some pretty skimpy outfits, and I know my dad’s not supposed to look, because mom get’s real mad, and it’s a straight ticket to the doghouse.” He stopped talking to himself, but I’m nobody to judge him for that. It would be kind of hypocritical after he caught me talking to myself in the back yard. “I mean, not literally a doghouse. We don’t even have a dog.”

“I know. So what, he sleeps on the couch?”

“Oh no. We’ve got a guest bedroom, we’re not using. Unless we have someone over to visit, but aunt Connie. She’s not my real aunt, she’s just my mom’s friend, but she lets me call her aunt Connie. She’s not married, she’s divorced, but mom won’t let her spend the night.”

“In the doghouse.” I guessed.

“Yeah, or on the couch. Sometimes my real aunt, and uncle stay on the couch. It’s a hideabed, but that’s so my cousins can have the spare room.”

“Oh,” I’m finding out a lot about him, and his family. When we hadn’t really spoken so much, to each other. Because, you know, he’s a boy, and he’s older. “Wait, you ever think about my sister?”

“Uh,” he looked down, and away, but he didn’t say anything. He just let out another shy nervous grunt. Like he did when I mentioned sex.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything. Why, she say anything about me?”

“No, she’s already got a boyfriend, but what you said about your.” Quote, “Aunt Connie,” /quote “Reminded me about how she dressed up for her boyfriend.” I looked back in the house. “He’s probably in there, right now. I mean.” In her butt. “Uh!” I just covered my eyes. “I didn’t mean, well. Maybe subconsciously, I did.

(I guess I forgive her for not telling me about it, because it’s not really a secret, but honestly, it’s none of my business, and I guess I am a little too young to know, which is why it’s driving me nuts, but.)”

I looked up, and he just nodded, so I bit my lip.

“I guess I run-on when I talk to myself.”

“Well, I talk to myself because nobody else understands me.”

“Oh no. You make sense to me.”

“Well, I’m no psychologist, but you think maybe it’s a cry for help? I mean, maybe you just need someone to talk to, about it.”

“Huh! Well, I’ve got this friend…” Who’s not my sister, in any way. If she doesn’t want to talk to me about her. Sexual. Is that even a fetish? For her I mean.

“At school?”

“Yeah, earlier I was talking to her at school, and she gave me this.” I stopped squeezing the bottle behind my back, before the top popped, and it squirted all over the leaves.

“Hand sanitizer?”

“That’s what I thought too,” but I walked over to the fence to show him, “But I think they just use the same bottle.”

“LOLA,” He took it and read, turned it around to the label on the back. “I think this is like KY, no that’s a jelly.” He squinted. “I don’t have my glasses.”

“You wear glasses?” Hard to imagine how he’d look, with them on, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

“Contacts, usually.” He rubbed his eyes, or the corner of one eye. “I took them out, because they got irritated.”

“Huh, well she said that because she can’t get wet.” I pointed, and covered a giggle. Remembering her finger slipping out, shiny, and it was shiny between her buttocks, too. Then how slippery it felt between my fingers, and my thumb. The tiny string it left when I separated them, and what that must feel like. I clenched my cheeks, expecting a swat, and held my hands together in front of me.

“Wait, you’re talking about.” He held onto the top of the fence, and pulled up to whisper. ‘anal sex?’

“Well, not actually, doing it. With a boy, but you know some boys are into. That.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. Still holding onto the top of the fence. So I could see his smile, but not what happened to the bottle.

“I’m gonna need that back.” Wait, they’re not doing it dry in there. Are they?

“Oh,” he dropped down, and took it from the board, on the other side of the fence. “Yeah here.” He had to bend his elbow over, to hand it down again, which was awkward. “You’re not thinking about, trying it?”

“I don’t know?”

“Well, that’s what she gave you the lubricant for, isn’t it?”

“Yeah?” Actually, I stole it. Right before her boyfriend came over, maybe even subconsciously to stop him, from sticking it where it doesn’t belong, in my sister? I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Well, this friend of yours. You said she doesn’t have a boyfriend yet?”

“No, but she thought that maybe when she got one, he’d want to try that, because boys are like that, and they try to pressure you into doing stuff even if you don’t want to like doing threesomes with your friends to see if you’re bisexual.”

“Did he try to get you into a threesome, with your friend?”

“No? I just told you that, there is no He. She just wanted to be ready in case she got a boyfriend, and. You know. Huh!” I rolled my eyes, while I thought up another lie. “I guess she likes it, and she wants to do it with a boy. That way.”

“Well, it sounds like your friend is the one that’s trying to peer pressure you.”

“Huh, yeah.” That’s it, “I guess you’re right.” So far from the truth, I was a little proud that I’d crafted a lie that was that convincing. That he wouldn’t think that it was actually my sister, and her boyfriend. Doing that, right now, and not some imaginary friend from school.

“Oh,” I heard a car door slam, “I better go, nice talking to you.”

“I hope that helped,” he ran off, but I went around to the gate, on the other side. Hoping to see this boyfriend of her’s before he pulled out of the driveway, but I couldn’t even see what kind of car he drove.

“Io?” My sister called me. Yeah, I know. We’re named after moons, where do you think we got our nerdiness from? “Yeah?” I ran back around the corner.

“You know that little bottle I had, from my bedside drawer?”

“It wasn’t in the drawer, it was on the night stand when I left.” I ran up the steps to the back porch.

“Well, it’s gone missing.”

“Well, that was the last place I saw it,” but I helped her find it. It was small enough to palm it behind my arm reaching down under her bed so I could pull it out.

“I tried looking under there.”

“Well,” I sat back, “Did you try feeling around behind it? It must have rolled back behind it, so here it is.”

“Huh, well too late now.” She sat down, and pulled out the drawer, and dropped it back in.

“So, what did you two do, instead?”

“Well,” she thought, then she shook her head. “Never mind, you’re eleven.”

“So? I know lots of girls that’re already doing it. Not that, well. I don’t know, maybe they just don’t want to talk about doing that, either.”


“The dirty? They’re 6th graders, so that’s what they call it. Doing the dirty, but you know what they mean.”

“Huh!” She looked disappointed, “Yeah,” and unsatisfied. “Well, I guess if you think you’re old enough to talk about it. I don’t really have any friends that understand.”

“Me neither, they just make fun of the ladies that do that, in pornos?” She nodded, “Not that I look at pornos.” Honestly, there’s so much information on the internet, I just get started on Wikipedia, and then I click around the links until I’m no where near where I started but I learn so much I don’t even remember all of it, but you never know when something will be useful.

“Huh, yeah. That’s why I can’t talk to my friends about it, because they’re all.” She waved her hand, “So judgemental.”

“Well, I always thought they did that, because they’re actors, and actresses. I guess, but really it’s the men that want to see them put it in every hole, and they just do that to get more hits.” I nodded.

“Huh, well I don’t know about that. You know there are girls that actually enjoy it. Not gangbangs, I mean. Anal.”

“So, it must feel good.”

“Huh!” She got that look on her face again, and blinked. “Yeahbut it’s also. So dirty?” She grinned so excitedly, I couldn’t help giggling. Finally, she’s treating me as an adult. Even though I’m not an adult, but my teachers say I read and write at a college level. “And tight, it makes him feel so huge.”

“Even if you loosen up first?”

“Oh, no. That just helps him going in, but you know what Kegels are?” I shook my head, “Well, there’s actually this muscle across the pelvic floor, but just like any muscle if you exercise it, it gets stronger, and more supple. That means I can make it as tight as I want.”

“Oh.” Of course, there’s all kinds of muscles I never heard of, there’s a hundreds of them total, but I never considered that there might be sexual uses for any of them, before I even started thinking about sex at all. She went on, and on, but she kept talking about how dirty it is.

“Uh huh?” I just nodded, because I didn’t want to say anything, when it started to get. You know, gross? I probably didn’t even want to admit it to myself, because of how much I like knowledge, and learning, but I have to admit that there are some things that are just too advanced for me to know. It’s not the adult thing, I’m perfectly fine with being in 6th grade, and I’m not in any hurry to grow up. It’s just insulting to my intelligence, when people treat me like I’m too young, and stupid to understand such complicated subjects. Even when it’s true.

“So, I told him that if he doesn’t want to eat it out then he’ll just have to go back to the store, and get some more.”

I ran for the bathroom, thinking that I was about to wretch, but it was a false alarm. “Ugh!” I coughed, and shook my head, but it was too late. The thought of somebody sticking their mouth in there, and their tongue.

Well, she did warn me that it was dirty. “Oh, sorry.” She patted my shoulder. “TMI?”

“A little.” I washed my face, just to feel the cold water splash on my face.

“Well, you asked.”

“Huh, yeah. I know.” I know her too, and just like me. Once she gets started, sometimes it’s hard to know when to stop. She was pretty much just talking to herself with me standing in front of her, but it helps her think about it. I understand that, but it was a little too much. Information.

Finally, I could laugh. Mostly at myself.


“Huhhhh! Well, you got me. My friends, some of them try to gross you out. I mean, some of them are just interested in sex, stuff. Because it’s probably coming up next year when we get to middle school, but other ones. They like to look up the grossest stuff they can find, and read stories off the internet about animals, children, girls getting strangled so the serial killer can molest their bodies.”

“Ew.” She shook her head, and I couldn’t help laughing, because I got her back. “Huh!” She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, I know girls like that too. You’d think they’d dress goth to warn you if they’re so into snuff, and vampire sex.”

“Oh yeah? I guess you can check under their sleeves for cuts.”

“Huh, yeah. You’re right, it’s mostly the cutters that’re into vampire fanfics.”

“What’s that?”

“Fanfics? Honestly, I don’t know what you’re doing on the internet, if you haven’t even heard of that.”

“Well, I assume it’s short for Fan Fiction?”


“Well, you know I like the non-fiction section better,” At the library, which is also where we go to use their computers. “I always have.”

“Oh, well it’s mostly fans of writers like Anne Rice. She wrote Interview with a Vampire?”

“Oh,” I nodded, but then her boyfriend got back. Oh yeah, I just remembered Triton, and Deimos. They’re away at the Science fair, and that’s why we’re left alone at the house. So, I went back out to the back yard, and felt my fingers where the lube soaked in.

“Huh!” I tried kicking the leaves around, to see if Johnny was around where he can hear me. “It worked last time, but I guess it’s a little passive aggressive.” Even talking to myself didn’t get him to come over to the fence, so I guess he went back inside. “I don’t suppose I actually need someone to talk to.”

So, I lay back, and spread my arms. Started doing jumping jacks in the leaves, just to release the tannins to smell. I like that smell, even though it’s no longer fall. It’s nice, but the branches overhead are bare, and uninteresting. It’s not cloudy at all, but if I close my eyes.

I know that scent is tied to memory, and even some of the more normal erotic stories online that I’ve read. Especially the ones written by girls, that I can believe that are actually written by girls, because they have some idea of how we think.

“Hm.” I just realized that maybe because I was a little too focused on the truth, that I maybe avoided the fiction, and fantasies? We all have specific things we like, and I always liked the True Stories, so I stopped reading when it got too implausible to believe.

For instance, you can usually tell right away that a man wrote it, because the girl starts out with her bra size. I guess boys think in Inches, and the bigger the better. It just turned me off when she. Whatever they named the narrator, wakes up in the morning, and even thinks about her 36 DDs.

“Hhuhhhh!” It’s quiet. I’d kinda like a little breeze to kick up the leaves, and whisper through the trees, but that just told me that this isn’t a dream. It feels like I’m lying in bed, and I just have to open my eyes, but sometimes when I realize I’m dreaming, or I’m starting to suspect. I learned how to lucidly dream at an early age, I don’t know how young I was, but too young to remember how, or when I started.

If I was dreaming of course, then I could just conjure up my neighbor to come up to the fence. To talk to, but then I’d just be talking to myself. Maybe it would be like talking to my subconscious, but that still wouldn’t be as helpful as getting a boy’s opinion? It doesn’t matter, because he didn’t magically appear any more than I could summon a gust of wind to blow through the trees that are no longer drying in the branches above.

It helped if I set up a little board, or maybe a ruler. Yeah, to line up imaginary toys to remind me of what I was dreaming. That’s how I could remember my dreams, all night long if I started lucidly dreaming early enough. So, I pulled out a leaf, and set it down in front of my closed eyes. “Snh!” Added a breath of tannic smell to remind me, it’s not fall, but it doesn’t feel like winter either.

I had to think back to my papers at school. My name, Cassini, Io R. Dec. 8, 2020. “Huh.” Of course I have friends, with smart phones, and screens too small to really see anything. Which is good, because if you wanted to avoid seeing anything, too graphic.

“Hhuh!” I’m young. I know, I’m not very developed, and I took my bra off as soon as I got home. Just to let the blood flow back into the lines left by the straps, but that was hours ago. I don’t really have to wear bras at all, but I guess. If I really think about my motives, my sister isn’t really a great role model there.

She wears bras, because she needs the support, but then she borrows her old tops so they’re tight, and you can see the lines underneath. Which looks tacky, and kinda makes me think she’s saying “Look everyone, I’m wearing a bra!” As a fashion statement, but I guess it works.

She got some attention, and a boyfriend. Someone to give it to her, the way she wants it, and. She wanted him to put his mouth on her, back there. It’s still gross, but lying back in the leaves, I don’t feel pukey, I just feel. Well, my dress, and the fabric that I’d forgotten about. Just like I’d forgotten about taking my bra off for comfort, it’s not like being naked. It doesn’t feel like anything, but definitely doesn’t feel naked.

Up till now, but now I feel, different. Strangely, I know consciously that I haven’t grown any in the past, 10s of minutes, since I caught my sister fingering her. “Butt,” I said butt, and now it sounds so childish, yet I don’t even feel like giggling. I feel sensitive, especially my tummy, and sides. Not ticklish, any more, but I remember when that was the easiest place to tickle me.

Now, it’s my hipbones. “Huh!” How long have they been sticking out, like this? “Oh,” I guess it’s because I’m laying down on my back, but I’m trying to remember the last time I smoothed out my covers with my hands. Of course, I can’t, because it wasn’t sexual. I wasn’t sexual, when I went to bed last night, I didn’t wake up sexual this morning, and you don’t remember something like the edges of your pelvis not sticking out where you can feel them.

“Puff.” It feels sensitive, and spongey? “Mound,” that was the other thing, that I could remember from that. Sick uncle molesting his niece in bed, until I couldn’t stand to listen to it any more, and chickened out. The cruel laughs through the door turning dirty again, then them encouraging her to “Keep reading.”

I don’t know why we, or anybody made it a competition. To see what the sickest thing we could read was without getting grossed out. It isn’t as if there was a prize for lasting the longest, but I remember him writing about that. When he pulled back the covers to see that she hadn’t put on any underpants.

“Huh,” oh yeah. She wet the bed, so he had to get up, and strip the sheets. Change them, and then went back to find her asleep in his bed. He pulled back the covers, and as soon as he saw her. “Hairless mound.” He got overcome with sick lust for his niece, and started touching her in his sleep with his hard dick out in his hand, pumping it, and rubbing between her legs faster, and faster.

“Oh!” So, that’s. “Huh!” Why, I guess I can’t really come up with words to describe the sensation. “Huhhhhhh!” I didn’t even go that far. I barely touched the top of my. Slit? Gash, Clitorus is definitely one of the least sexy words I can imagine. Right up there with Vagina.

“Huh! Huh! Ohhhhh!” Just shaking my head, makes the. Drunk? Feeling, not quite like the few times I got to drink a half glass of red wine with my turkey dinner. On thanksgiving, and grandma said the fat would help soak it up, but I had to lie down. Hold my head still, because if I moved it, the feeling of lag made me queasy until I had to puke, but this time.

“No?” It’s weird, maybe the opposite of that, but rolling my head back and forth felt amazing, and the leaves crackled under my hair, releasing the bitter tannins. “Snh! Huh, yeah.”

Finally, I could sit up, blinking in the fading light, and see that the sun had gotten behind the house down at the end of the streets. Between the 2 rows, it was turned sideways, but when I stood up, I could look down the hill, and see a little light still shining on the branches in their front yard.

“Whooh! That’s. Amazing!” Now I know how the world feels when it rains. Then the clouds move away, and the sun comes back out. It starts drying up, and there’s that residual charge of ions before it goes away. Like the smell of rain coming, only the opposite, but I stretched, just to feel my body, and the lose fabric over it rub my now sensitive nipples.

“Alive. I feel alive in a way that I wasn’t before.”

“I’m glad.”

“Oh,” I turned around, “Johhny. Uh.” Embarrassed, but he just chuckled.

“I’m just glad you’re feeling better, but.” He looked around. “Maybe if you gave me your number, I could call you so we could talk about it. In private?”

“Yeah? No.” I though. “Maybe I better call you, because if a boy calls asking for me. Especially a teenager.” Well, my dad certainly wouldn’t be very understanding, and then he’d go right next door to pick a fight, and my dad’s not a fighter. He’s more of an intellectual, but still. I am his 11 year old daughter, and he is a teenage boy in high school.

“Yeah, you’re right, you have something to write it down?”

I tapped my temple. “I don’t have to.”

“Okay.” He told me, so I could call him whenever I wanted to talk. About sex, have phone sex with him, or just run story idea bye him to get a boy’s opinion before I finalized them. Maybe meet me out back to watch me over the fence, when I thought that we could get away with it. Of course, that was part of the thrill, that we might get caught, but you know the girl next door?

That wasn’t me, because honestly, she doesn’t exist. She’s a trope, an archetype, so nobody really lives next to say Mary Jane Watson. It comes from somewhere, like all cliche’s do.
Somebody probably lives next door, and Johnny?

Well, he wasn’t anyone special, I guess. I never loved him, but he was a boy, and he was there. Somebody to talk to, and willing to listen for much the same reason. Curiosity, to learn what a girl like me thinks, and feels when I started to discover my sexuality.

I was too young, and he wasn’t a child molester, so that was another big plus.

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