I missed what she said and just stood staring at her face dumbfounded. She smiled at me with this gorgeous, playful, lusty smile (the kind that could ...tart wars…or stop them) and repeated “What’s for breakfast?” I asked if she preferred pancakes or French toast and she said French toast. When I turned away from her, I realized I was sporting a hard-on; I really hoped she hadn’t noticed.As I began preparing breakfast, head still in a fog, I could swear it sounded like Lily asked, “Is there. She went to clean herself, I had to pee. After the bothersome toiletries were done, I settled with her on the bed, we hadn’t bothered to don clothing. She did not try to avoid my eyes; she wore nothing to hide her charms. My stepsister and I began a conversation, an exploration of words that would convey what we were feeling, but avoided excuses or reproach for what we had just done. She lay at my side, her head resting on my shoulder, her hand on my stomach. As her fingers traced random. More

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