There was a red plastic tube running between a platform with a metal steering wheel and a set of steps leading to the swings. Holding Lincoln's hand, Ronnie dragged him in, ducking her head. Inside, they sat across from each other, their heads slightly stooped and their knees bent. Names, dates, and obscene words had been carved into the plastic by teenagers past. A giant middle finger poked out from behind Ronnie's head. It was either that or a penis. Lincoln blushed.

"What's this idea you had?" he asked.

"This," she said, and leaned in between his knees. Planting her hands on either side of him, she brushed her lips against his, and they kissed, slowly at first, the tips of their tongues tentatively grazing, then deeper, more urgently. Her arms gave out and she collapsed against his chest. She giggled into his mouth and then pulled back, sucking his lower lip. His heart was crashing and he was getting hard. Her face was blazing with color and her eyes smoldered. She grinned mischievously , and in that moment she was so beautiful it hurt.

"I had a dirty dream about you," she said, her gaze never wavering from his eyes.

Lincoln blinked.

"R-Really?" he asked.

She nodded coyly.

"I had one about you too," he admitted around a lump in his throat.

Her eyes narrowed seductively. "You did?"

He swallowed and nodded.

"What was it about?"

He opened his mouth but words wouldn't form. She giggled and leaned in. "Come on, Loud. I wanna hear."

"We were in my bed," he confessed.

"Yeah? What were we doing in your bed?"

"H-Having sex."

A big grin spread across her face. "Sounds like we had the same dream."

Lincoln gaped. She had a dream like that too? "I thought you'd think I was gross," he blurted.

"I don't think that at all," she said. "I think you're perfect and I love you."

She unzipped her hoodie and shrugged out of it. Underneath, she was wearing a black t-shirt. Lincoln's heart bounced and the lump in his throat ached. "What are you doing?"

Without speaking, she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her chest. Her heart knocked under his palm. She was breathing heavily now. "My heart belongs to you, Lincoln. Please don't break it."

"I would never do that," he said, and meant it.

She smiled. Holding his hand, she slipped it under her shirt; his eyes widened as she guided him up her stomach and to her bare breast, his touch making her warm skin tighten. She let go, and he cupped it, his heat radiating through her. She looked at his lap; his jeans were bulging.

For a moment he was frozen, then he came alive, pressing his palm against her sensitive nipple and rubbing slowly. She felt herself dampen as pangs of sensation rippled through her body.

"Can I see it?" she asked huskily.

Lincoln cocked his head, his brows furrowing.

"Your...your dick."

A shadow of terror crossed his face.

"Please," she said, scooting closer. "I really want to see it."

Conflicting emotions ran through him. Terror because he had never bared himself in front of a girl before, joy because he wanted her to see it. He nodded. "O-Okay."

With fumbling fingers, he unzipped his jeans. Ronnie leaned over to see, her heart pounding and her eyes wide. He lifted up and pulled his pants (and his cute red briefs) down just enough for it to pop out. When he settled down, Ronnie's eyes widened, and her loins quivered. She had never seen a penis outside of a textbook, so she couldn't say if it was big or not, she could, however, say that it was beautiful: From the crowed head down to the blue vein along the side; it pulsed with every beat of his heart.

She glanced up at him and grinned. He looked nervous. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it," she panted. She reached out and brushed her fingertips across the tip: It jerked under her touch and Lincoln's breath hitched. Wow, she marveled, I did that to him. She wrapped her hand around it and ran her thumb along the opening. It came away sticky.

Lincoln was gasping through clenched teeth now, his eyes narrow. He was more beautiful in that moment than she had ever seen him before.

She swallowed, her throat dry. Suddenly, she wanted to put him in her mouth; she wanted to taste him and run her tongue along his quivering length. She wanted to do other things to him, too; a lot of other things,

She looked into his eyes as she started to stroke gently up and down. His breaths were coming in ragged gasps and his eyelids fluttered. God, he was so sexy. She wanted to mount him right there. Instead, she squeezed as she brought her hand up, and he let out a mewl that made her smile.

"How does that feel?" she asked.

He threw his head back nodded. "So good."

She ran her thumb along his underside, and he squirmed, his fingernails clawing mindlessly at the plastic. She shifted to the side and bent down so that his pulsating head was inches from her face. His heat and his smell washed over her. It was a wild scent, musky and masculine; Ronnie let out a shivery breath and squeezed her legs together. She looked up at Lincoln. He was watching her, his chest heaving.

Biting her bottom lip, she said, "I love you."

"I love you too."

With that, she lowered her head and took him in her mouth: He let out a long moan as her lips formed around him and she slid slowly down. When she reached his base and felt him tickling the back of her throat, she lifted her head almost to his top, then plunged down again. His taste was even more intoxicating than his smell. Beads of his essence leaked into her mouth, and she shivered at the salty taste against her tongue. Her girlhood was burning hot and she could no longer take it. She needed him.

She pulled back one final time, a long, thin strand of drool (or something else?) connecting her bottom lip to his member. He was panting; his face was beet red and his body trembled.

"My mom and Bobby aren't home," she said, "if you want to go back to my house."

Lincoln nodded. "Please?"

She bit her lip. "Race you there."


Football, basketball, baseball, soccer...they were running out of sports, yet Lucy was adamant they continue. Lynn was exhausted. "Where do you get the energy?" she asked. They were sitting side-by-side on the back step, Lynn clutching a Gateroade in her hand and Lucy sipping a juice box.

"I don't know," Lucy said. "Pent-up, I guess?"

"That wouldn't surprise me," Lynn admitted. "You just sit there and read all the time. Do you feel really energetic sometimes?"

"Kind of."

"What do you do for it?"

"I go for walks."

Lynn cocked her eyebrow. "Walks? I've never seen you go for a walk."

"Because I do it at night," Lucy replied, putting the straw between her lips and sucking cold apple juice into her mouth. "When everyone else is asleep."

Lynn gaped. "You sneak out?"

"I guess you could say that," she said. "Although I wouldn't call it 'sneaking.' I just walk out the front door."

She slurped more juice.

Lynn couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Lucy, that's really dangerous. There are a lot of sick people in this world. What if someone kidnapped you?"

"I have protection."

Lynn snickered. "What?"

Lucy reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a knife. With a flick of the wrist, it sprang open: The blade was wickedly sharp with serrated teeth along one side. Lynn recoiled. "Jesus, Lucy, where'd you get that thing?"

"The store."

Lynn sighed. "Alright, fine, if you wanna walk around at night, be my guest, but I'm going to teach you self-defense."

"Okay," Lucy said and stood up. "Let's go."

"Not right this minute," Lynn said. "I'm bushed."

"Oh," Lucy said, and sat. For a while they simply stared out at the shafts of sunlight dancing across the backyard. Lucy stole a sidelong glance at her sister, her eyes lingering on her strong jaw, her upturned nose, her soft, freckled cheeks. She sighed dejectedly and looked away.

"What's the matter?" Lynn asked.

"Nothing," Lucy said quickly.

Lynn knew her sister well enough to know that there was, in fact, something wrong. "Yes there is."

"Honestly, I'm fine."

Lynn nudged her arm. "Come on, Luce, spit it out."

Lucy sat her juice box between her legs and turned so that she faced Lynn. Though she was outwardly placid, inside, her heart beat crazily against her ribcage and her stomach clenched tightly. So many nights she had laid awake fantasizing about telling her how she loved her, how she loved her strength and her courage and her tenacity and her determination. She yearned to tell her sister how she felt, but deep down, she thought she never would.

Sighing, Lucy bowed her head. She had to do this...but could she?

"Hey," Lynn said, touching her chin and tilting her head up. Her eyes were soft and filled with concern. "What? You can tell me anything, Luce. I'm your sister."

Lucy opened her mouth, but could feel her resolve flagging. Mustering all the bravery she could (pretending she was Lynn and that she had an endless supply), she leaned forward and kissed her sister. Lynn went stiff as Lucy's lips touched hers, as Lucy's tongue flicked across her mouth, seeking admittance.

For a moment Lucy expected Lynn to push her away in disgust, but then her lips parted and Lucy's tongue slipped inside. Lynn kissed her back, her hand fluttering to Lucy's delicate throat. When the kiss broke, Lynn's eyes were wide and her cheeks were scarlet.

Lucy swallowed, the taste of her sister's mouth lingering on her tongue. "I'm in love with you," she said, finding the words difficult to speak. "I have been for a long time." Even though she knew that Lynn could not see her eyes through her bangs, Lucy looked away. "I love how strong and brave you are, I love how you always take charge and never give up. I love everything about you and I hate it when you cry and you're sad. I want to make you happy and love you and..."

She stopped speaking when Lynn took her hand. She looked up into her sister's eyes, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Then, slowly, Lynn leaned in, and they kissed again, slower, more passionately. Lucy didn't know how long the kiss lasted, how long their tongues made delicate love to each other...it could have been hours, it could have been days...but when it was over, she snuggled against Lynn's chest, a shiver of delight running down her spine when her sister's strong arms wrapped themselves around her. She pressed her ear against Lynn's breast, and listened to the crazy beat of her heart, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across her lips.


Lincoln won the race, reaching Ronnie's house a full minute before she did; when she pulled up, he was standing by her front door with his arms crossed, his foot tapping. "About time you showed up," he said.

"If I didn't have to stop at that intersection, I'd have smoked you," she said, jumping off her bike and letting it fall to the ground. She came up the steps and brushed past him. "You got lucky. Just remember that."

She inserted a key into the lock and opened the door. It wasn't until Lincoln was inside, with the door shut and locked behind him, that his stomach twisted with nerves. Ronnie kicked out of her shoes and unzipped her hoodie. "I think you were right," she said, "it's too hot for a hoodie today."

She looked at him and grinned devilishly. She stepped into his arms, and they kissed, her hands sliding under his shirt; they were warm against his gurgling stomach. Their tongues clumsily fondled one another. She broke the kiss and smirked up at him, her tongue sliding across her bottom lip; for some reason that made Lincoln shiver.

"My room," she said. She took his hand and wove her fingers through his. Lincoln's heart was crashing and his rod ached between his legs.

Ronnie led him to her room and shut the door. Lincoln's eyes darted around. Her bed was unmade, things were lying on the floor. It looked a lot like his room; though he had been in here a million times before, it looked somehow different.

Ronnie moved past him and sat on the edge of the bed. Lincoln's eyes caressed her, starting at her soft brown eyes and travelling south to her socked feet. She lifted an eyebrow. "Like what you see?" she asked.

Lincoln nodded dumbly, and she laughed. "Well come here then."

He went and sat next to her. She turned to him, bringing one knee up. "I...I've never done anything like this before," she said.

"Neither have I."

She took a deep breath. "And I've never wanted to. Until I met you." She slightly bowed her head. "You're special to me, Lincoln." She took his hands and lifted her eyes to his. "I really do love you."

"I love you too," he said. She smiled softly, and he leaned in for a kiss. They moved together, Ronnie lying back against her pillow and Lincoln following, their lips never breaking. He gasped when she wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him against her; his bulge rubbed between her legs, and she shuddered. She kissed him desperately then, her tongue filling and probing his mouth. For a while they stayed this way, both of them oblivious to the world around them.

When the kiss broke again, Lincoln leaned back while Ronnie stripped her shirt off: His jaw went slack when he saw her budding breasts, the nipples topping each slight mound rigid and brown. "Hey, jackass," she giggled, "my eyes are up here."

"I know where your eyes are," he said, continuing to stare at her breasts.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts, and Lincoln sat aside as she pulled them down, his heart stopping and warmth spreading through him when her pink, hairless sex was revealed. An uncertain look crossed her face. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, and she giggled. He put one tentative hand on her leg, just above the cuff of her sock. She grazed her teeth along her bottom lip. Lincoln was shaking, his insides like jelly. He ran his hand up her leg, tracing the swell of her thigh. She watched him intently, her chest rapidly rising and falling. He reached her hip, then, licking his dry lips, he moved across her stomach. She jerked. "That tickles," she said, "but it feels so good."

His hand crept lower, across her pubic mound. Her skin tightened. She was in his hand now, her wet heat making him dizzy.

"Oh, Lincoln," she sighed.

He could barely breathe now. He moved his hand lower, and his middle finger sank into the crease between her lips. She gasped and squeezed her eyes closed, her teeth bared as if in agony.

"Does that hurt?" he worried.

She tossed her head back and forth.

He moved even lower, and found her center, her core, the opening to her soul. His hand froze and he looked up at her; an expression of rapture crossed her freckled face, and Lincoln felt a welling of pride. He slowly and gently, ever so gently, slid his finger into her. She jumped and grabbed handfuls of the blanket. Inside, she was moist and hot and like silk. He pushed deeper, and a moan escaped her lips. His member pressed against his pants; he was lightheaded, drunk on her.

He took his finger out and fumbled with the zipper of his pants. Ronnie watched him with half-lidded eyes. When the zipper was free, he slid out of them and his underwear; his dick was so hot he could feel the heat radiating off of it. Would it burn when they did it? There was so much heat between the two of them.

Not caring if it burnt to a crisp, he mounted her, his head pressing against her inner thigh. He propped his arms on either side of her shoulders. She stared up at him with big, loving eyes, her breath hot against his face. He stroked her cheek. "You're so beautiful, do you know that?"

Ronnie nodded. "You make me feel beautiful."

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her upturned nose. "I love you."

"I love you."

He guided himself to her opening and pressed against it: Sultry fire wafted against him, and his breath caught. She opened her legs wider, her knees on either side of his chest.

For a moment he didn't move, he simply basked in the moment. He was going to do it. He was going to make love to Ronnie Anne Santiago, the girl he had loved from the moment he first laid his eyes on her, she of the shiny black hair, liquid dark eyes, and creamy caramel skin. One push was all it would take to bind her to him, and him to her, to unite their souls and their bodies and their hearts.

He leaned slightly forward as he pushed past her quivering lips and took her hand in his. She let out a breathy sigh and arched her hips up, sheathing him with a moan. Her damp satin walls rippled around him, her muscles clenched against him. She threw her head back and let out a small cry. His fingers slipped through hers. He pulled back, and surged forward again; she molded around him, becoming tighter, hotter, wetter. She looked at him, and he leaned in, taking her lower lip between both of his.

Together they rocked in a dance as old as time, their pants and moans rising and mingling. Ronnie wrapped her legs around him and drew him closer, wanting, needing to be filled with him. He looked down at her, his eyes shining like lamps in the dark. She stroked his cheek. I'm so...uh...lucky to...oh...have him...ahhhh. His head scraped against her walls; his ridge flicked that special bundle of nerves, and her mind exploded with passion. Jesus, yes, it's so much better than I imagined.

She looked up at him with those dark, narrowed eyes, and he nearly lost control. She was beautiful, perfect, a princess, a queen, the ruler of his heart and the mistress of his spirit.

Ronnie's orgasm formed quickly, a building pressure in her stomach that expanded until it threatened to consume her. She held it back, though, because she didn't want this moment to end, she wanted to one with Lincoln forever. His started in his loins and burned deep in the pit of his stomach like molten lead. Like Ronnie, he did not want the moment to end. They were joined together in perfect harmony, one breath, one whisper, one heartbeat, and to break such a holy union was sacrilege. He could not hold back forever, though. It began to rush forward like a boulder tumbling downhill, and there was no stopping it. He squeezed Ronnie's hand tight and kissed her as he swelled in her and burst, his magma seed shooting against the opening of her womb. She cried out and held him as her orgasm swept through her.

For a long time he lay on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck and her hands resting on his flexing shoulder blades. Their skin was tacky with sweat, and they stuck together like Velcro.

Finally, he rolled off and lay next to her. They were still holding hands.

"Did you like that?" she asked finally.

He glanced at her. "Yeah. I did."

"Good," she giggled, "so did I." She propped herself up on one elbow and touched the tip of his nose. "Lincy-boo-boo-bear."


In the ethereal light of the full harvest moon, a girl slips out of her bed, crosses the room on bare feet, and slides under the covers next to her sister, who stirs and turns. In a cold shaft of moonlight, Lynn's eyes are dark and muddled with sleep.

"It's just me," Lucy says.

"Hi," Lynn says sleepily, and takes Lucy in her arms.

"Hi," Lucy replies around a tiny smile. In her big sister's arms, she feels safe and warm...protected even.

In minutes, snuggled against her sister, she is asleep.

Before Lynn, too, drops off, she muses on her situation. She sought love in her brother's arms, but found it in her sister's. Isn't life funny?

With a smile playing on her lips, Lynn, too, sleeps.