“Well, hello” I typed back. “Happy turkey day to you, too!”
“I thought u said u were going to be offline over the weekend” Lissa
sent.
“I snuck away to a Starbucks and I’m on wifi,” I half-lied. “How are
things going?”
“Fine, fine. Awesome, actually. This is Lissa btw” she typed.
I was hearing the telltale beeps as my responses popped up on her screen
in the other room, fairly low volume, but audible. So weird….
Everything that had been happening, it was all confirmed, I realized.
All real. There could be no doubts that both my sister and her niece were
involved in this ongoing tasks game we were playing. Although there was
still possibility they’d “faked” one or more of the tasks they’d had, that
they were both at least involved in the dialogue was incontrovertible at
this point. It hardly mattered whether they’d actually done each and
everything exactly as they’d said. I felt both exhilarated and morbidly
self-conscious at this sudden awareness.
“So what are you up to today?” I asked.
“Not much… ” a pause. “We did the masturbation yesterday. We even
did it together for a while.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yep me and mom were so horny last night we were on the couch talking
about this weekend and the tasks you sent and we both just started doing
it. it was soo hot.”
“Wow,” I said. “You didn’t cum I hope.”
“LOL no sir. were following the rules I promise,” she typed. “I’m so
horny this morning!”
“Sounds like fun,” I said, not wanting to be the one to first mention
their houseguest – I wanted to see what she would say.
There were a few minutes of pause, so I sent “Whatcha doing?”
“Just, um… finding the masturbation description I might use for the
Saturday task.”
“OK. might?”
“mom and me haven’t decide who does which task yet,” she explained.
“I see.”
“So have to tell you what I did this morning,” she wrote after another
minute or so.
“What’s that? I asked.
“Well, you know my uncle Jason is visiting, right? so and you said we
could masturbate if we were really desperate as long as someone was within
10 feet. bonus activity, u called it”
“Yep,” I prompted.
“LOL so I was desperate.”
“I know how that is,” I encouraged. “What did you do?”
“When I came out of the shower I saw uncle Jason sitting at the table.
So I went over and sat across from him so he couldn’t see my lap and I
pretend to read the paper and I u-know-what”
“Awesome,” I remarked. “You think he noticed?”
“Well he noticed I was in just a towel from the shower and I’m sure he
was checking me out, but I don’t think he knew what I was doing with my
fingers under the table,” she explained.
“You think he was checking you out?”
“Oh definitely :p” She’d included the “tongue out” smiley, teasingly.
“How does that make you feel?” I asked, daringly.
“freakin horny” she exclaimed immediately.
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I sent back, inanely.
“Oh definitely.”
I couldn’t take too much more of this… and I still felt compelled to
keep stretching things out, prevent them from moving too fast. “Hey I’ve
got to get going,” I sent to her.
“Ok,” she responded, but immediately followed, saying, “before u go can
u give me a bonus task?”
“A bonus task?” I asked.
“Yah I’m bored and we have all day till dinner. Plus I’m horny too.”
“Ok let me think a sec…” and think I did, furiously. I thought back
to a story I’d read a while back, and it gave me an idea. “Ok, here’s your
task,” I finally sent. “Within the next 2 hours, you have to get your
uncle to say the words ‘penis’ and ‘orgasm’ to you. I don’t care how you
do it.”
“OMG that’s a twisted task.”
“You think you can do it?” I asked.
“Not sure. 🙂 but I can try LOL” she finally wrote back.
“Good luck. See you later,” I sent. And logged off before getting a
reply.
Lissa stayed in the den on the computer for another 10 minutes after
that, while I plonked around on my work document, somewhat unproductively.
Shortly, Lissa emerged and went into the kitchen to talk to her mom. I
heard some very low whispered conversation, heard Denise say loud enough
that I could hear, “… Oh my… ” and back to whispers again.
Finally Lissa emerged and went to her room. Denise, meanwhile, peeked
around the wall from the kitchen and asked if I could help her with
something. I locked the screen on my laptop and set it aside, and went to
help my sister in the kitchen.
Denise was in a sweatshirt and jeans, very comfortable looking but not
terribly revealing. I helped her prepare the turkey for the oven, getting
the stuffing in and all that. We chatted about this and that, very low key
and casual, a perfect antidote for the tension that had been building
earlier.
Finally, she let me go. “I’m done with you,” she said, “you can go back
to your computer stuff.”
Nearly an hour had passed, and still Lissa was in her room. I went and
sat in the living room, but left my laptop alone and read a magazine for a
while – when I fetched it from the den I noticed the screen saver running
on their computer, but left it alone.
15 minutes after that, Denise came out and announced she had to run to
the corner store. “On Thanksgiving day?” I asked. “I’ll go,” I
volunteered.
“No no… you stay here and relax, I just have to get some more butter
and milk. It’s always the basics you don’t plan for…”
So she left, and it occurred to me that she was getting out of the house
on purpose, to facilitate some plan Lissa had. I waited, curious to see
what would happen.
Finally, with only about 30 minutes left on the time limit I’d given
her, Lissa emerged from her room carrying some papers – looked like school
papers – and one of those textbooks-in-a-paper-cover they issue you in high
school, highly decorated with doodles and no indication as to what subject
it was. She plopped down on the couch and began going through them, as if
she was studying.
“Doing homework on Thanksgiving?” I asked. “That’s pretty dedicated.”
She shrugged and looked up. “Whatever. I’m bored and it’s gotta be
done.” Long silence, me reading the magazine, her going through per
papers… doing some memorizing, looks like.
Then, “Hey, um, uncle Jason?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask, like, a really big favor?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s kind of embarrassing,” she said. Ah… here it comes, I thought.
“I promise I’ll be nice,” I encouraged her.
She grinned, shyly, and started to explain, in a rapid voice. “We’re
in, uh, sex-ed this semester for health class. And we have these
vocabulary tests. Stupid Mr. Anderson says there might be a ‘pop quiz’ on
Monday and you know he will, too. So I’m trying to memorize the
definitions for these words and I was wondering could you test me?”
Very, very clever, I congratulated her, silently. She was a smart kid,
no denying that. I could already see how she intended to solve the task.
“Uh sure,” I replied out loud, trying to convey the level of discomfort
that seemed appropriate to the non-perverted-uncle role I was attempting to
play, with only moderate success.
Lissa energetically leapt up from the couch and brought me her list,
handed it to me. A set of words and definitions, written in her careful
cursive. Such excellent improvisation, I thought, but said, “You might be
less embarrassed to go over these with you mom,” I suggested, which was
roughly in character, and attempting to appear embarrassed, myself (which
actually, despite everything, I was, at least a little).
“Oh no,” she protested. “That would be MORE embarrassing.”
“Oh, I see. Well… um, ok. What do you want me to do.”
“Just read off the word, and I have to give you the definition,” she
explained, perkily, sitting back down on the couch in her little sundress,
facing me.
I won’t go into the gory details. There were about 12 vocabulary words
on the list, the definitions were completely plausible 8th grade sex-ed
type definitions. I almost wondered if, coincidentally, she really did
have sex-ed and had dug these out of her actual homework.
But no… I remembered she had a set of encyclopedias in her room. I
suspected she’d copied the definitions from there. The words included,
obviously, “penis” and “orgasm,” and it was charming to hear her recite the
definitions of these words so effortlessly. She stumbled on a few of the
others, and actually made me read her the definitions and coach her on them
– including “semen” and “clitoris.” Utterly delightful.
Finally, she said “I think I’ve got them all,” and came and collected
her list from me, and I almost thought she was going to lean over an kiss
me. But instead, she returned to the couch, and pulled out some other
papers to work on. “Thanks a zillion, uncle Jason.” And she smiled shyly
at me.
And, with perfect timing, Denise returned from the store. I resumed
reading my magazine, trying hard not to stare at my precociously clever
niece and exotically beautiful sister as she unpacked her groceries and
resumed her kitchen tinkering.
Another 15 minutes or so, and Lissa got up and called out to her mom
“I’m going back on the computer, ok mom?” To which Denise agreed from the
kitchen.
Wanting to avoid the appearance of too many coincidences, I resisted the
urge to go online myself, and so went into the kitchen to offer help to
Denise. She was just finishing up something involving pie, however. We
made some small talk, and made our way back to the table and sat down.
We’d decided to just snack rather than have lunch, with the Thanksgiving
dinner looming ahead of us, so she’d set out some munchies, including
chips, dip, some carrot sticks and celery, etc. We chatted as we worked on
the munchies, when, unexpectedly she said, “hey, is that a good carrot?”
out of the blue as I chomped down on the item in question.
Of course, I realized what had happened. This was her task – she was
getting it out of the way early. And as I chewed the carrot with its ranch
dip I tried to discern the flavor I knew had to be there… but was unable
to. She was grinning at me as we went on chatting and munching.
God this was fun. It wasn’t the first time that I wondered, if she knew
it was me… would she still want to play along?
Some of her revelations of the past week made me suspect she might, but
I worried that if I revealed my identity to her now, she’d be angry about
the deception. I didn’t dare risk it.
Lissa came out from the den and joined in the munching and chatting,
and, with time to kill, Denise asked if anyone wanted to play a game.
“What sort of game?” Lissa asked. They asked me, and I was indecisive, but
suggested cards, or monopoly, or scrabble.
We finally settled on scrabble, an old family favorite, but at first
Lissa didn’t seem so into it, although Denise and I were enjoying
ourselves.
Then, suddenly, as Lissa was puzzling over what word to put down, she
uttered a sort of gasp and said “oh my god.” Teenagers have a way of giving
any small comment a tone of apocalyptic pronouncement.
“What is it?” asked Denise, alarmed.
“Uh, nothing… but, I was wondering…”
“Yes?” I asked, encouragingly.
“Can we put dirty words?” She blurted out.
Denise laughed, raised an eyebrow. “Jason?”
“I don’t see why not. Just us chickens, here,” I commented.
“Ok, what’s your word?” Denise asked her daughter.
With only a little bit of nervousness, she put a ‘c’ ‘u’ ‘n’ in front of
a ‘t’ already on the board, crossing a triple word square in the process.
“Very good,” congratulated her mother.
Lissa giggled and said, “hehe this fun.”
What an interesting long weekend this is going to be, I thought to
myself, not for the first time.
We played for another hour or two uneventfully, although with the
barrier broken, Denise made ‘fucked’. She then proposed we should give
bonus double points for dirty words and Lissa and I agreed on the condition
that it only counted moving forward and didn’t include Denise’s ‘fucked.’
After that, the effort to make dirty words was all-out, with myself
adding another ‘cunt,’ Lissa adding ‘shit’ and ‘dick’ (arguably not that
dirty a word but we gave her credit) and Denise putting out ‘cummed’ which
we thought marginal but decided “what the hell.”
Periodically, Denise would get up to check on the turkey and soon the
game ended and she got absorbed in kitchen stuff again, and I helped. The
next few hours, including a delicious turkey dinner and lots of fun talk,
were relaxing and more typical of my visits from before all this sex-task
stuff had so radically altered our relationship.
Denise served some sparkling wine, and let her daughter have some too,
and we chatted. Then Lissa announced that she was in charge of the desert,
and fetched a delightful looking chocolate-mousse pie out of the fridge.
Not traditional Thanksgiving fare, you might think, but it was a strong
tradition in our family.
“I hope it turned out ok, I copied mom’s recipe,” she explained,
bringing it out.
“Actually it was your grandma’s recipe,” I pointed out, and Denise
smiled sagely.
“I’ve added a secret ingredient, based on mom’s advice,” explained
Lissa.
I had an inkling, but only said, “Ah, I see.” Of course it was entirely
logical as I began to eat my piece that Lissa asked, “so do you like it?”
I nodded vigorously and said, “Oh yes, perfect. I don’t really taste a
secret ingredient, though.”
“Trust us, it’s there,” said Denise, mysteriously. I decided to enjoy
the mystery.
After that, Lissa wanted to watch a movie on tv. They’d rented some
moderately corny romantic comedy (I have an unadmitted weakness for such
things so I only complained about it half-heartedly) and we watched it
together and had some more desert as it was ending. It was only about 8
pm, however.
“We should have rented another movie,” commented Lissa.
Denise and I agreed, but they hadn’t, so we fished around for something
good on basic cable for a while, before Lissa gave up and asked her mom if
she could go back on the computer. Her mom assented, cheerfully, and that
left my sister and I together watching really bad television, on the couch.
Then two things happened. First, suddenly she jumped up, and, complaining
she’d eaten too much, announced she was going to change into something more
comfy.
Then, when she came back in, now back in her pajamas, she pulled a
fluffy blanket over herself, saying she was cold. As we watched the tv
quietly, I watched her, at the other end of the couch, from the corner of
my eye. Was it possible she was pursuing bonus activity? Even as I
wondered this, she let out a fairly audible sigh.
“You doing alright?” I asked, the concerned brother.
“Perfect,” she grinned, snuggling more under her blanket. Indeed.
After another hour, Lissa came out from the den. “Anything good on?”
she asked.
“Nope,” Denise and I answered in perfect unison. Lissa laughed,
stretched overdramatically, and said, “Well, with all that shopping we’re
gonna do tomorrow, I’m going to bed.”
We said goodnight, and shortly after that, Denise, looking anything but
sleepy – she looked alert and distracted, and I suspected I knew why –
announced she was exhausted and going to bed, too.
“Goodnight, little bro,” she said, jokingly.
“Goodnight, sis,” I returned, and with that, she threw off her blanket
and quickly left the room.
I shut of the tv and the lights and went into my den with my laptop.
I shut my door, stripped naked – feeling horny and nasty – and sat down
on the bed with my laptop, to see if I could get online. The neighbor’s
wifi connection was still there, and I connect but I didn’t log into yahoo.
First I checked my emails.
There were two emails from Denise (i.e. actually Lissa), timestamped,
as I expected, around lunchtime and around 9 pm. The first was fairly
brief – she simply said she did the bonus task and explained in two
sentences how she pulled it off. “It was fun and I felt very sneaky,” she
concluded.
The second was a bit longer. She provided a pretty good summary of the
rest of the day, telling how her mom had put a carrot stick IN her pussy in
the kitchen and how “uncle Jason” enjoyed it. I assumed she must have
known this from something her mom told her or from what had been planned,
as I was pretty sure she hadn’t been in the kitchen at the relevant time.
Then, skipping forward in time, she told about the chocolate-mousse pie
with the secret ingredient. She explained that it was her mom’s idea
yesterday after they got the tasks, and before uncle Jason got there Lissa
made the pie and what she had done was to take all the bitter baker’s
chocolate squares that went into the recipe and had inserted them into
herself before melting them for the pie. She said her uncle Jason had
seemed to like the pie very much, and even her mom who knew the secret
ingredient said it was the “best ever.”
Skipping backward, she gave a charming account of the scrabble game with
the dirty words. And concluded by saying, “even as I type this, mom is out
on the couch under a blanket masturbating while uncle Jason is like 3 feet
way. Talk to you later – Lissa.”