>[x] Can I shower in your bathroom, Cerise?
"I'd rather not get in the middle of the catfight going on out there," you explain.
"I don't blame you," Cerise says. "...But you better not stain my tub with your garbage juice or some shit."
She leads you into the master bathroom. Unlike where she sleeps, this space is at least a little clean. While the countertop around the sink is jam-packed with all sorts of clutter - bottles of hairspray, makeup, toothpaste tubes, and so on - it's at least well-maintained in other respects. The floors and porcelain tub are clean, the air is fresh. Definitely not the horrorshow you expected to walk into.
"Feel free to use my body wash, but don't touch my shampoo. That stuff is 15 bucks a bottle and I'm almost out."
"Whatever," you say. "I just need to get clean. That's all." You strip off your shirt, and only as you pull it over your head do you realize how damp it is - and how disgustingly it reeks. Being stuck in that dump truck was worse than you thought.
Cerise grabs a plastic bag from the cabinet under the sink and offers it to you so you can drop your shirt in it. You're so disgusted with your own clothes now that you don't have any shame left - you quickly kick off your shoes, socks, and pants, and drop them in the bag, too.
Cerise blushes and averts her gaze.
Wearing only boxers - boxers that you also badly want to get out of - you turn and reach into Cerise's tub. You fiddle with the knobs, but the water is ice cold no matter what you do.
"How the hell do you make it warm?" You demand.
"Wait a second," Cerise says.
She puts down the bag full of your soiled clothes. "Whoever's got the shower out there is hogging all the hot water," she explains.
"Well, get it back!" You demand.
"Keep the faucet running," Cerise says. She steps up and flushes the toilet beside the tub now. From the hallway, you hear two shrieks: Rose and Whitney. Are they showering together?
You hear scuffling now, and arguing. The change in temperature must have been an unpleasant shock for them, but why are they taking it out on each other?
Cerise flushes again, eliciting two more shrieks of pain. Cerise can't stifle her chuckle.
Your hand under the faucet finally feels warmth now. Rose and Whitney must have given up on showering.
"You're an asshole, Ally!" you hear Whitney's voice call through Cerise's door. Then thudding and slamming and more indecipherable arguing.
You pull the mechanism on the faucet that activates the showerhead. You don't waste any time: you hook your thumbs in the waistband of your boxers and step out of them.
Behind you, Cerise makes a choked gasp of surprise. "What is wrong with you?" she humphs. "Freak."
"You've seen worse," you say, waving it off. "Sorry, but I really need to get this grime off of me."
You step over the edge of the tub and bask underneath the refreshing rain of warm water.
"I'll get you a change of clothes..." Cerise says.
You nod, your eyes closed, and hear Cerise step out of the bathroom.
A few moments later, while you're lathering yourself with her coconut bodywash (a little girly-smelling, but whatever), you hear the door of the bathroom open again.
"What the hell, Cerise!" You shout. You're too shocked to cover yourself.
"I've seen worse," she rejoins. You hate when she turns your words back on you. "Here's your clothes."
She sets them down on the lid of the toilet for you.
"Are you done now?" You say. "Did you enjoy the show?"
She gives you the finger before turning around and starting for the door again. The room is so full of steam that she's hard to see when, right at the threshold, before opening the door, she stops. She turns her head to the side, looking at you in her peripheral vision.
"Are you having sex with Alex?" She asks.
"You're a hopeless pervert," you say. "Your imagination has run totally wild."
"That might be true," she says, "but you're even worse. And either you're having sex with him, or Alex is a liar."
Alex, you snitch... didn't anyone ever tell you the benefits of keeping things secret?
"There might have been... an unchaste interaction or two," you admit. "Not that it's any of your business. At least I never paraded him around in a French maid costume."
Cerise turns around, folding her arms. You've seen each other naked plenty of times before, and you're too far into your bickering mode to really care that she can see all of you right now. "Unchaste interactions," Cerise says, rolling her eyes. "That's rich. All the times you called me a degenerate for what's in my bookmarks--!"
"You're still a degenerate," you tell her. "Your actions today prove that beyond any shadow of a doubt. Not to mention whatever depraved things you've been doing with that girl who was catfishing you."
"Does that make you jealous?" She sneers.
It does.
"Not at all!" You say.
Cerise frowns. "When did we get so gay?"
"I am NOT gay," you say. "You might be. I'm not."
"You've been railing a boy on the regular for the past couple weeks, you fag. That's pretty fucking gay."
"I've been having sex with plenty of girls too," you insist. "Whitney, Rose, Sable--"
"Your boss?" Cerise breathes.
"Does that make you jealous?"
She shakes her head. "You're such a pig."
"You sound like Rose now," you say.
Cerise grabs a can of shaving cream off the counter and chucks it at you, but you dodge the attack. Unfortunately, in the attempt to dodge it, you slip - and bash your head against the soap holder on the wall, before falling onto your back.
Cerise is at your side immediately.
"Bitch!" You yell, rubbing your forehead. You're bleeding.
Cerise's hands are over her mouth. "I'm sorry!" She says. "I didn't mean..."
You look up at her. She's leaning over the side of the tub, and her top is soaked with water. "Are you okay?" She says.
"You're getting wet," you tell her.
"I am NOT--" she starts, then looking down at herself: "Oh. Yeah. I guess I am."
She takes off her top, baring her breasts. Now it's your turn to blush and avert your gaze.
"You've seen worse," Cerise says. Running theme, it seems. "Sit up. Let me look at that."
You sit up. Cerise examines your forehead. The cut must not be very bad, because even though head wounds bleed profusely, yours is already slowing down. Cerise grabs a little bottle of peroxide and rubs some of it gently over the welt, however much good that'll do.
You can't help staring at her fat tits while she works. They're right at eye level, after all. Since Cerise has a habit of wearing baggy clothes, you're continually surprised at how big they really are when she's naked. They're as pale as milk and invitingly soft looking. You can't help the reaction you have.
"Tch-- Alabaster, you're disgusting," Cerise says. So she noticed that.
"Don't act mad when you walk in on a guy showering and see a dick," you grouse. "Get out if it offends you so much."
Cerise steps back. But instead of leaving - she pulls down her shorts and panties. You leap to your feet, trying to merge yourself with the wall. "What are you doing?" You shout.
"Conserving water," Cerise says. "More importantly, making sure you don't pass out from the concussion I just gave you and drown in this bathtub."
"Get out!" You demand. But she's already stepping into the tub with you.
"Turn around," Cerise tells you. "If seeing me naked offends you so much."
"What are you doing?" You demand. She holds you about your midsection and guides you in a semicircle so her chest is against your back and you're both standing underneath the showerhead.
"You looked a little woozy," Cerise says. "I didn't want to leave you alone since you might fall down again. I'll hold you steady while you finish showering."
"I'm done," you say.
"No, you're not..." Cerise rests her chin on your shoulder and peers into your eyes. "I'm not letting you out of here until you're clean again. I don't need you stinking up the place."
She grabs her bodywash and squirts a dollop into her palm, lathering it up. She applies it to you - neck, chest, armpit, arms - and even lower still. You try to keep it from happening but your cock stands fully at attention as her delicate, searching fingertips trace tightening circles over your body. Her touch is so soft and--
"Cerise..." you gulp.
"Shh. It's okay," she says.
"This isn't... are you drunk?"
"I'm not jealous," she says, apropos of nothing. Or more accurately: responding to an earlier piece of conversation. "I want to be clear about that."
"Fine. You're not jealous. You win."
"I'm not a brocon, either" she tells you. Her fingers are tracing a sudsy path around your groin, the edges of her hands occasionally brushing against your pubic hair. You watch her working you over, unable to peel your eyes away.
"Fine... you're not a brocon... Cerise, if you go any l--"
"But I want to see," she growls, her voice low and needy. She presses her body hard against you, her tits mashing into your back. And then she grabs your cock.
"I NEED to see," she says. "It's... not about you, I swear... but without Gal to-- and now that I know you're-- I just NEED to see what you do with Alex... I... I..." she gulps, so turned on she can hardly even talk.
Her hands are obviously inexperienced and she doesn't hold you as tightly as she should. (Wait, she shouldn't hold you at all... but no, if she's going to do this... it should be tighter. Your head is swimming in confusion and lust.)
"You can make me a video for me, or... or just let me sit in the corner, that's fine..." She masturbates you up and down while she describes all the ways you can fuck Alex for her sick enjoyment. Her hand is barely big enough to wrap all the way around you. With the water and the slippery soap and her loose grip, it's more frustrating than anything else. You buck your hips, trying to find relief. You don't care anymore that she's your own sister.
"Cerise... I'm gonna--"
She bites your earlobe. "It's okay," she whispers directly into your ear. "You can cum. I'll just imagine it going all over Alex's face..."
"Cerise!" You throw your head back, and you really are woozy now - you almost collapse. She braces herself and holds you steady. You arch your back, feel your cock twitching against her smooth palm. She reaches around with her other arm now and jerks you off using both hands, one stacked on the other. She suddenly picks up a frenzied pace, her hands a blur against your straining dick, and she chews on your earlobe while she jerks you off. But her eyes are always glued to the sight of your leaking cockhead. Nowhere else.
You cum, your vision going white as you squirt pulse after pulse of sticky seed into the drain and all over your older sister's hands. She gasps in perverted delight. Her eyes sparkle. Only when you're empty does she let go of you.
You stumble forward, dazed, as Cerise falls to her ass in the tub. You turn, still standing under the shower, and watch. She rubs her cunt madly with the hands she just used to bring you off. You're sure she's smearing some of your cum against her throbbing clit, too. Her mouth purses into an O as she screams silently in thundering orgasm, and she squirts her cum all over the wall of the shower. Her legs are spread-eagle and she gives you this show without any shame or inhibition. When she's done, she falls flat on her back, panting.
You turn the shower off.
Cerise is still breathless. She rests the back of one palm against her forehead.
"Jesus..." you moan. "Oh my god... what did you do..."
"Will you show me?" Cerise pants. "Please?"
You're not sure what to say as you step out of the tub, dry yourself off and get dressed.