Chelsea Lyle
Copyright 2012
Chelsea Lyle
Smashwords Edition
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Also by Chelsea Lyle
STAND ALONE
Her First Time
Confession
Daddy's Angel
Mama's Boy
Daddy's Bitch
Daughter's First Time
Virgin Niece
Daughter Likes it Rough
Double Stuffed
Motherly Love
Mommy's Milk
Mommy's Little Girl
Mommy's Girls
Whip Me, Daddy
My Sister, My Slut
Swingers
SERIES
Lust (Mortal Sins, Volume 1)
Envy (Mortal Sins, Volume 2)
My First Time (Dear Diary, Volume 1)
Role Play (Dear Diary, Volume 2)
My Boyfriend's Girlfriend (Dear Diary, Volume 3)
Gang Bang (Dear Diary, Volume 4)
Secret Admirer (Dear Diary, Volume 5)
Wife Swap (Gang Bangers, Volume 1)
Center of Attention (Gang Bangers, Volume 2)
Daddy's Girl (Daddy Dearest, Volume 1)
Daddy's Dyke (Daddy Dearest, Volume 2)
Daddy's Slave (Daddy Dearest, Volume 3)
COLLECTIONS
The Diary (Dear Diary, Volumes 1-5)
Daddy and Me (Daddy Dearest, Volumes 1-3 & Daddy's Angel)
Mommy Dearest (A Collection)
"You need to get laid."
I rolled my eyes. Sisters could be so damn blunt sometimes. We were in the kitchen at our mother's house, cleaning up after our regular Sunday dinner. Dinner at Ma's was a family tradition, and even once Vivian and I had gone off to college, we still made time to come back whenever we could.
"You need to mind your own business," I said, sudsing up the chili pot.
"Vanessa," she said. "There is no reason for you to not be having sex."
"Yeah?" I asked, rinsing the pot and setting it on a towel beside the sink. "Why's that?"
She sighed impatiently. "Because we're twins, Vanessa. We look exactly alike, and I get laid all the time!" She stamped her foot to emphasize her point, and it made her look like an overgrown five year old having a tantrum.
"Don't let your mother hear you say that," a voice said from the doorway, and we turned in unison to find our Aunt Rosa standing there. She was in her fifties, heavyset, with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of bourbon in the other. She wore a rose print top and plain black slacks. Her hair was done up in a poof.
"Your sister has a point, Vanessa," Auntie said. "Look at me: I'm a fat old woman, and I get laid all the time."
Vivian laughed, and I turned back to the sink. "Can we please leave my sex life out of this?"
"Whatever for, dear?" Auntie asked. "If I had your body, girl, I'd be walking bow-legged."
I blushed clear up to the roots of my hair while Vivian cackled with mirth. Jesus. I didn't want to think about Auntie having sex. That was one mental image I could definitely do without.
"Maybe I'm just not as easy as you two," I said, and regretted the words immediately. Vivian took a long, hard look at me and then stormed off. I hung my head, holding the washrag listlessly against a bowl.
Auntie was silent for a long time, but I knew she would speak. I even knew what she would say. And I even knew that she would be right. . .but I didn't want to hear it. It wasn't like I didn't want to have sex. It wasn't like I shot down every guy who approached me. The truth was, I never had the chance to shoot any would-be lovers down because there weren't any. That hurt enough, but having to come home and hear about how dead my sex life was just made it worse.
Of course, that was no reason to be a bitch. Vivian was only trying to help. So was Auntie.
"That was uncalled for, young lady," Auntie said.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
Auntie came to the sink to stand beside me. She took the bowl from my limp hand and rinsed it, sat it on the towel.
"Let's finish these," she said, "and you can tell me what's wrong while we work."
I nodded and picked up another bowl. "It's not that I don't want to go out," I said. "But the line to date Vanessa is nonexistent."
Auntie took a drag on the cigarette hanging between her lips and nodded. "But we're not talking about dating, Vanessa. We're talking about you having sex."
"Same thing, isn't it?" I'd had sex before (come on, I'm a college student), but my only sexual experiences were with guys (all both of them). I'd never even masturbated. It just. . .didn't seem okay to me.
Rosa laughed. "Good Lord, no!" she said. "Where'd you get that idea?"
I blushed again, feeling stupid, and said nothing.
We finished the dishes in silence. Every now and then Auntie would have another chuckle at my expense, but I could tell she was thinking, maybe trying to find a way to tell me something. When we were done I started toward mine and Vivian's old room to apologize, but Auntie called me back.
"C'mere, Vanessa," she said, opening the refrigerator. I did, and she plucked out a smallish cucumber and laid it in my palm. "Not as good as a man," she said, winking roguishly, "but it'll do in a pinch."
"Huh?" I asked, but she'd already closed the refrigerator door and started toward the living room, where everybody was. I stood in the kitchen, holding a cold cucumber in my hand, and I'm being honest when I say it took me a good thirty seconds to realize what the hell she was talking about.
"Auntie!" I blurted, a little too loudly. I heard her chuckle from the living room.
I turned toward the stairs that led out of the kitchen, eager to not be seen standing in the kitchen with a phallic object in my hands. The last thing I needed was for Ma to start asking questions that I didn't want to answer. It wasn't until I was standing outside the door to the room that Vivian and I had shared growing up that I realized I still held the cold cucumber in one hand.
I looked down at it. Not as good as a man, Auntie had said, but it'll do in a pinch. And standing there, a year down the road from my last orgasm, I decided I was in the biggest pinch there ever was for a moderately attractive college girl.
The bathroom was directly behind me, across the upstairs hall from mine and Vivian's old bedroom. I stepped in, closed the door behind me. How many times had Vivian and I fought over who got in the bathroom first? How many screaming matches had we had, one of us standing in the hall and demanding that the other hurry the hell up already?