Lola’s Lips are Sealed

 

“Lola,” called her sister as Lo was getting dressed, “no panties today.”  Robie sat in the bed and watch Lo as she was reaching into her underwear draw.  This request, or command, was not unusual for Robie to make.  Lo looked at her sister and then moved on to pulling out socks from her top drawer.  She chose white with a pattern of little pairs of red cherries.  She went to her closet and pulled down a white and green dress.  Her pigtails were already neatly tied with green bow ribbons.

“Come here,” said her sister.

Lo walked to the bed, carrying her clothes for the day.

Robie reached into the nightstand next to her side of the bed.  She pulled out a handful of wooden clothespins.  She kept a drawer full of them to spice up sex with her boyfriends and for personal use.  But this time she told Lo to stand before her.

“Spread your legs.”

Lo spread.

Robie took one clothespin at a time in her right hand.  With her left hand she squeezed Lo’s labia together, making the lips bulge, and then she applied the clothespin to the two tightly pressed lips together.  She did this a total of six times, causing tears to form in Lo’s eyes.  Between Lo’s legs a straight line of wooden clothespins hung down, compressing Lo’s vagina together.  Not that Lo needed this at all, but this was Robie’s punishment for Lo’s indiscretion of yesterday when she unconsciously moved her index finger to her pussy and stroked her smooth slit while the three guys fucking Robie looked on with intense interest.

“You are to wear these all day at school.  Only when you get home will you be allowed to remove them.  No.  You will come to me and beg me to remove them for you.  If they fall off, you replace them.  Immediately!”

“Yes, Robie,” said Lo obediently.  The pain was excruciating, but it did not outstrip the secret enjoyment of pleasing her older sister.

Lo slipped into her dress and walked to the kitchen to eat breakfast.  It hurt to walk.  It hurt to sit.  It hurt to stand up.

The pain between her legs while she rode the bus to school nearly made Lo pass out with every jarring bump.

At school she couldn’t concentrate at all.  Her entire mental focus was directed between her legs.  Occasionally, she dropped her right hand down below the desk and up between her legs and flitted her fingers across the tips of the clothespins, making them jiggle.  She was praying that none of them slipped off in the middle of class.

And then it was gym period.  There was absolutely no way she was going to go into the girls’ locker room, remove her dress and put on her tight, white shorts!  Even if she could do that without everyone seeing her clothespins, there was no way she could easily conceal them under the shorts, let alone play volleyball or badminton or whatever the day’s activities were.

 

She went to the gym teacher and said she wasn’t feeling well.  The gym teacher looked at her askance and sent her to the school nurse.

At the nurse’s office, she entered shyly and explained that she wasn’t up to playing in gym.  The nurse went through a series of questions: Stomachache?  Headache?  Fever?  To all of which, Lo responded, “No,” shaking her head and dangling her pigtails.  The nurse took her temperature.  Normal.  The nurse asked her to have a seat and, when Lo sat extremely gingerly on the hard, plastic chair, the nurse asked if the problem was “down there,” pointing between Lo’s legs.  Lo turned a bright red!

School Nurse

The nurse asked to lift up Lo’s dress.  Lo didn’t know what to say.  She acceded to the request.  When the nurse saw the row of wooden clothespins pinching Lo’s pussy lips together, she gasped in horror!  “What is this?!  Who did this to you?  Why are you wearing these?” she asked in rapid succession as she removed the clips.

“Lola, show me.”

Lo was speechless.  She could not turn in her beloved sister.  So she lied.  She said her mother told her to wear them to school.

“Why ever would she do that?” asked the nurse, alarmed, but trying to sound soothing for Lo.  The nurse reached into her drawer and pulled out some ointment.  She put on her rubber gloves and applied the ointment to Lo’s nether region, gently rubbing the moist, cooling gel into Lo’s labia.  Lo liked the feeling and liked the nurse.

Lo tried to speak, but she couldn’t.  She just shrugged her shoulders and asked the nurse to keep rubbing in the ointment.  “It feels good,” she said, totally unaware of how that sounded to the nurse.

The nurse stopped rubbing and told Lo to pull her dress back down, covering her triangle, as the nurse stepped out.  Of course she called the principal.  The administration of the school alerted the authorities.  The Department of Children and Family Services was called and within days a full-fledged investigation was underway.

For years, Lo though that the reason her older sister was sent off to boarding school in Europe was because her father didn’t like Robie’s “slutty” behavior with the boys.  She believed that Robie had been caught with a boy in the house.  She suspected it might be that they feared for Robie in some way.  But she didn’t know that it was because DCFS had discovered the source of Lo’s torment and the Department threatened to take Robie from the family and put her in foster care or a special psychiatric ward.  There was literally no other place for her to go in America to be outside the reach of the authorities and so her parents, in a last-ditch effort to keep Robie in the family, sent her to boarding school abroad, leaving Lo alone and bereft of her sister until, well, you know the rest.

Lola worships her sister Robie

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A Time to Love

Lola’s older sister, Roberta Go

“Gazing at the written world, seeing the elegant self-restraint that guards an inner decomposition, a biological decay until the last moment from the prying eyes of the world; that bilious, sensually disadvantaged ugliness that is able to kindle its smoldering fire into a pure flame and to even usurp the throne in the kingdom of beauty.”

Death in Venice, Thomas Mann

 

“Really?” asked Lo as I mixed the gin in with the tonic and sliced up a sliver of lime.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s not even noon.”

“What is time in a global pandemic anyway?”

We were two weeks into lockdown.  We were stranded in paradise.  Far away from our everyday hustle and bustle, cold weather, friends and family, we followed the dire warnings about travel a week into our winter vacation to the beachside resort town.  The sun was shining, the sea breeze gently moderating the temperature, the inviting golden sand beckoning us to walk through it barefoot.  But all the amenities of this place were off-limits.  One-by-one each pleasurable pastime was shut down, cordoned off, closed – first the bars and restaurants, then the beach itself, and finally the boardwalk.  We were allowed to walk on the sidewalks, but that was it.  There was nowhere to go anyhow.  We could take our lives in our hands and go to the supermarket to get necessities (if we could find them on the bare shelves), but we didn’t want to do that and we made as infrequent visits there as possible.

News of sickness, disease, and death were filtering into every media channel.  It seemed that even if we didn’t watch the news, we still couldn’t escape it – it was in the air.  The stock market was tumbling down off a cliff, unemployment was spiking, and anxiety was everywhere.  We couldn’t hug our neighbors for comfort, for they may be the vicious vector conveying the virus within their sincere attempt at reassurance.

Lola and I were utterly alone on the 25th floor of a resort hotel overlooking the vacant beaches and streets with nothing but the brilliant yellow, blue, and wisps of white for company.  On the horizon we could make out three giant cruise ships forbidden from docking for fear of their deadly cargo.  We were informed that the virus was rampant and people dropping with asphyxiation on the decks, desperately looking to the shore for some sort of assistance, in vain.

Death surrounded us.  So why not have a gin-and-tonic after breakfast?  I had plunged into nihilism.

Yes, I still had Lola as my companion, but there was little for me to write about regarding “my sexlife with Lola.”  Her trysts, flirtations, and dogging down by the pool area were prohibited by the pandemic.  Yes, she still masturbated three, four, five times a day, but I’ve written about that in such detail and with such frequency that there is hardly anything new I could bring to the topic.  Our lives beat on with the same monotony as the repetitive waves upon the shore.

Until one day our desperation to escape the gloom of death and destruction was relieved.  We found solace in the strangest of places.  While preparing for her Friday morning fap session, Lo was doing her usual foreplay routine which includes checking her elicit email account.  In it, she discovered a missive from her sister Robie, whom she hadn’t seen for a dozen years or more.  Even with me, she had only mentioned her in passing as her “estranged sibling.”  All I knew about her was that she was older and residing abroad.  How on earth did she find Lo’s secret email account?

After getting the email, Lo called me into the bedroom and explained some of the backstory.

“She’s older and when we were kids we slept in the same bed.  It became. . . interesting. . . when she grew boobs.  Long story short, we got caught, she got kicked out of the house and sent to boarding school and then to Europe.  We were separated for a long time.”

“Why did she suddenly write to you now?” I asked.

“I’m getting there,” said Lo, still naked under the sheets, slowly stroking between her legs as she spoke, “During COVID lockdown she needed something to help her get off.  She was scouring the internet to find the really dirty stuff.  She came across (and to) our blog and, because I don’t show my face, was fapping to it regularly, not knowing it was me – her sister – that was making her horny, until one day she noticed something that gave me away.  She reached out and sent this photo of her with the ebook of Match, Cinder & Spark.”

Robie with our ebook

She showed me the photo.  I was in a state of shock; first by the events that led to this interaction and then by the family resemblance I saw between Lo and Robie.

“She’s beautiful,” I uttered unconsciously.

Lo took offense.  Always jealous.

“I mean, she looks so much like you.  It’s a compliment.”

Apparently Lo, being the younger sister, always took a backseat to Robie.  My comment brought back all those jealousy issues.

Since that first email exchange as adults, the two have reconnected on a number of levels, not least of which is that they frequently get off to each other long-distance.

I suppose the ever-present, yet occasionally more pressing, specter of death can reunite as well as rend.

Robie showing that she has been using Lo to get off