I smelled my fingers and realized what Mom had meant. I washed my hands but thought about what she had said…the next time that you finger fuck your ...ister…the next time. Mom had not told me not to do it she had just told me to wash my hands afterwards. Wow!Debbie caught me coming out of the bathroom and wanted to know what Mom had said to me so I told her. She smiled and took me back to our corner. This time she removed her T-shirt and her shorts completely. I decided to do the same thing. That. Nothing. Just a moment of heat. I don't remember how it all started, but I remember him touching my ankle, his thumb brushing against the inside of my foot. His fingers worked their way along my calf (because by now I'd slouched a little and had my foot resting on the seat in front of him) and after several long minutes, he stood up, and I moved over. We sat there, wordlessly, quietly in our seat, listening to the tires rolling over the pavement, and watching the sun slowly begin to set over. More

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