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Cory and Tilly

Tilly was more beautiful than any girl Cory could ever dream of seeing. She was fifteen; white, 5’1” and she weighed 118lbs wet through – delicate and petite, soft and virginal, innocent and unspoiled. She was young, pretty and sexless. She had soft auburn hair and beautiful green eyes and the body of a cheerleader, tight and taut with long, slender legs leading up to a thigh gap, which served as a peristyle of the Gods. No brainless beauty though, she was wise beyond her years. She read books, Nobakov and Hardy, Bronte and Austin, Dickens and Steinbeck and she was beautifully, tragically romantic. She wrote beautiful, lyrical poetry, and masterfully crafted stories inspired by those that had inspired her. She was athletic too, captain of their club’s junior cross-country team and captain of the school netball team. And as he looked at her, the sanity perfection of her skin, he was addicted like she was a drug that he couldn’t get anywhere else.

“Because, Matilda Greenstreet,” he said and she giggled at such formality, “you have the most perfect smile and the most addictive and infectious personality and you’re so kind and so smart and so funny and those things make you a truly beautiful person. And you’re not just my best friend but you’re my world and I wouldn’t be me without you. That’s why I love you, because I appreciate who you are and what you do for me.”
She was pink like a virgins blush now, and Cory stood up he smiled to himself and as he cleared away the plates he kissed her on the forehead and then shrugged as he deposited the cutlery and plates in the sink. He then added: “Other than that you’re an absolute bitch,” to which Tilly burst out laughing.

It was a warm night and Cory was led on his bed in just his Calvin Klein’s. He was thinking a lot about Tilly and then about TJ with Aimee and then he thought about Ellie. He wasn’t sure whether he had a crush on Ellie because of who she was, or because she bore an uncanny resemblance to his twin sister. After all, he didn’t really know her. But if it was the latter then he asked himself why he didn’t feel guilty or ashamed. And, the more he thought about Tilly or Ellie or whichever one of them it was that stalked his mind, he felt the growth in his Calvin’s growing and growing.
Tilly is more of a friend than a sister, his head was telling him, as if justifying the feelings he knew deep down were not for Ellie but for Tilly. She stopped being your sister when Mike left, it continued. They were casual around each other. He held her and kissed her head and her cheeks the way boys kissed their girlfriends, not their sisters. He looked at her the way you look at a lover. And then those feelings came back, the ones he tried not to think about, and they took over him.
Cory pulled out his iPhone and loaded up Safari. With a couple of finger movements he had loaded up his phone’s incognito mode and was surfing one of the sex story websites he frequented. In an effort to distract his wandering mind he pulled up a rather lengthy story about a girl and her teacher and it wasn’t long before the growth had expanded into a raging, burning erection. With a spare hand he reached down and slipped the Calvin’s down his legs, freeing the raging beast from its cage and he groaned as his fingers wrapped around his shaft. He could feel the pressure all the way down to his nuts, three days worth of pressure, and he closed his eyes and groaned to himself as his fingers rolled over the head and he pumped up and down.

He was close to blowing when a knock at the door froze him solid.
“Hey, Cory. Can we talk?”
“Erm…” he stuttered and stammered as he fumbled to get his Calvin’s back up. He turned onto his side so his erection was partially hidden and he closed Safari and he said for Tilly to come in. Her beaming face appeared at the door.
“What’s up?” he asked.
He was flustered in the face and the bulge in his underwear was self-explanatory. If she knew then she never said anything but she had a wicked smile on her face and for a girl who noticed everything the odds were not in his favour. “You know what you said earlier?”
She edged further into his bedroom and perched on the end of his bed. She was in a little crop top and some sort bed-shorts and her hair was in a side ponytail, plaited over one shoulder. He gulped as she neared and he nearly blew his load right there and then. If she didn’t know before she would now, the damn thing was fighting against his fabric. At this moment he was the very definition of blue balls. “Which bit,” he stammered.
“You know which bit.”
He smiled, relaxing. “What about it?”
“Did you mean it?”
He leaned forward, careful to hide his bulge with an arm, and he kissed his sister on the head. “Of course I meant it. Every word.” And then he stood up before it became awkward.
She looked down at the floor and was smiling like crazy. Her cheeks flushed. Cory turned away from Tilly and he kicked off his Calvin’s and pulled on a pair of loose fitting joggers that concealed his erection. “You’re an absolute bitch,” he laughed and she guffawed again before hurling a pillow at his head. He laughed back.
“Yes I meant it,” he clarified. “I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”
She nodded and stood up and reached the door. “One more thing,” she said. “There’s a party this weekend – someone from school has a free house and Ellie’s invited me.”
“Yeah, TJ told me. He’s asked me to go too.”
“Are we going?”
Cory grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Back in her room, Tilly beamed to herself. She wasn’t one for self-gratification but hearing what he had said earlier had made her stomach flutter and she wanted that feeling again just one more time. She collapsed onto her bed and rolled over to look at her bedside. Amongst the scattering of nail polishes and make-up tubs and earrings was a framed photo of her and Cory taken at the finish line of the Three Hills 10K earlier that year. They had both run PB’s that day. They were in their club vests, medals hanging from their necks, and he was standing with her, his arm around her waist. Tilly was beaming at the camera, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and Cory was looking at her with such pride and such love. (He was looking at her the way girls longed for guys to look at them.) It was the most complete picture she had – her absolute favourite, and she was sure he had the same picture on his wall somewhere.
She found herself smiling as she looked at the photograph. Then she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She thought more about Cory, about what he had said. She thought about how flustered he looked when she walked into his room, and about how he tried and failed to hide the bulge in his boxers. She thought about his body and his bare, naked behind as he pulled on his joggers and she felt that fluttery feeling in her stomach again. She didn’t know whether it was the heat of the moment, a sudden release of testosterone because she was almost due ovulation, or whether it was something else fuelling the sudden rise in libido. Maybe it was because she was almost due her period, she mused. Tilly had gone through menarche just before her thirteenth birthday and she had noticed a rise in these ‘feelings’ since then. This one felt different, though, and she found her hands slowly starting to move over her delicate, nubile frame while in the other room, Cory blew such a powerful load that it felt less like an orgasm than like a purge, like he had just been turned inside and out and both drifted off into satisfied, deep sleeps.

Saturday Night:

Everybody was going to be at the party, and Cory and Tilly Greenstreet were no exception. Carter Baines’ parents were away for the weekend and had left strict instructions for him to behave. That, of course, meant a party. TJ had said that Aimee was going to be there, and that her cousin was over from the next state and that she was dying to meet Cory. “I told her all about you,” he said when he told Cory that he had been round for dinner with the family. That was the third night in a row he had seen Aimee now and Cory had asked him if they were a thing, to which TJ had shushed him. “Not so loud, bruh.” He said in mock confidentiality. “This playa be keeping his cards on the table.”
Naturally, when the time came to take them Loraine was took drunk to drive so they had to rely on a lift, which TJ offered as a last minute solution. “I’m sorry about this, mate,” Cory said down the phone. “She said she’d take us.”
“Nah bruh, it’s no shit,” TJ had said. “I’ll holler at you in twenty.”

Nights like this were rare. They were a way for Cory and Tilly to let off steam and they relished the chance to get out of the house for anything other than school or training. Sure, they hung out with friends and for the most part had normal teenage lives, but it was difficult trying to live a normal teenage life and juggle running a house with training and school. And so nights like this meant a lot to the both of them, and Cory was dressed to impress. He donned his Royal Blue long-sleeve Polo Ralph Lauren and his Levi’s, and was sorting his hair in the downstairs mirror when Tilly came down.
“Don’t you scrub up well,” she mocked. “You look good, bro.”
Cory laughed, and then took in Tilly’s appearance. “Tilly,” he said, putting emphasis on her name. “You look … just … stunning.”
“It must be so hard for Mom when her kids are this good-looking. Right, Mom?”
Tilly laughed. Loraine mumbled something that sounded like that’s right, honey from the couch. Survivor was on and she had a can in her hand. He had her priorities sorted. She would order a pizza when they left, and then have a couple more cans. She would still be there on the sofa when they came back.


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