She hurried back to her room and closed the door. The incestuous act she’d witnessed sinking in. She couldn’t believe what she saw; anger, confusion, setting in. She thought of her own son, imaged making sweet, tender love to him. “No,” she shook her head in disgust. They weren’t close.
Sam popped into her head next. She saw herself and her nephew kissing like Julie and her son, rolling around in bed, making love. Holly was wet. Her fingers slid into her pajama pants, finding her clit, massaging it.
She landed on the bed, thinking of Sam, imagining him on top of her, holding her down, looking into her eyes as he took her over and over again.
“Yes!” Holly whispered, plunging two fingers into her soaking, wet pussy.
Holly removed her pajamas, pretending to throw them at Sam. She went to all fours next, one hand rubbing herself, finger fucking herself.
“S-Sam!” she hissed, her eyes closed, seeing him hold her from behind, pumping in and out of her.
Just before Holly climaxed, she stopped herself. “No. This is wrong too.”
Feeling foolish for lusting after Sam, and disappointed in Julie, she gathered her pajamas and climbed back into bed.
The next day, she barely spoke to Julie, or anyone really. She took a long walk, alone, on the nearby beach, enjoying the cold weather.
Arriving back at Julie’s house, with her supper cooling, she nodded to her sister sat at the table. “You alright?” Julie asked.
“Fine,” Holly lied, avoiding eye contact. “Just a lot on my mind.”
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