There was something different about the house. It was obvious as soon as I walked in the door. The atmosphere was heavy, oppressive. You know that old expression of being able to cut it with a knife? Well, this was it. My mum came out of the kitchen, looking flushed and upset.

“It's Uncle Robert, he’s been in an accident,” she said, her voice breaking as she walked toward me.

Taking me in her arms, she explained how he had fallen whilst ridge walking with a party of tourists near where he lived and had been killed. Uncle Robert, or Robbie as we all knew him, was not a real uncle but my father’s best friend from his days in the army. They had become very close, friendship forged under fire, the sort of friendship that endures.

The loss hit us all. He and my father had spoken often, although his visits had become fewer as the demands of work and family life had grown. As arrangements were being made for the funeral service my parents called me to sit with them. They needed to talk to me.

Apparently my father and Uncle Robbie had agreed that if anything happened to one of them, the surviving friend would look after the other’s family to whatever extent was required. Robbie had a daughter, Samantha, just a few weeks younger than me. Her mother had died shortly after she was born and she had been raised by Uncle Robbie. They had lived a secluded life on the edge of a National Park where Robbie had been a guide. Theirs had been a “Green” lifestyle long before it had become fashionable; home schooling and being at one with nature. I had always loved our visits there. I loved the freedom, the wildness of the park and her company as we roamed in the countryside together.

Samantha needed a home and my father intended to honour his promise to his friend but they needed to know that I would be okay with this. I looked at my father, his sorrow and anxiety obvious across his face and gave my unconditional blessing. Sam and I had always got along and these days I was busy with college so it would be fine.

For the next week it was upheaval on a major scale. My parents decided to swap bedrooms with me. Samantha and I would have their double sized room in the extension and they would move into my room, which had originally been the master bedroom. New furniture was delivered; beds, wardrobes, desks. Dad spent the week painting and assembling with military precision. At the week’s end my new bedroom gleamed, subtle pink with white trim. It was an L shape, so there was a bed for me with side table, wardrobe etc at one end of the room and a duplicate set for Samantha at the opposite end. In the middle there was a seating area with a couch and TV. There was even a freestanding wooden screen that would give us a greater privacy if required.

The big day arrived and my parents went to collect Samantha from the elderly aunt she had been staying with. I stayed at home, not wanting to overwhelm her with change.

A few hours later they all returned, my parents looking strained and Sammie pale and forlorn. I hugged her and offered to show her to our room.

I am nineteen, tall and athletic, with a regular place on the college track team. My breasts are a firm 34b, my butt tight and, I’m told, eye catching. I wear my brown hair long, often in a ponytail, and like most girls of my age I spend too much time on my appearance.

Samantha, two months my junior, looked like a boy. She’s about my height, 5’7. She had her black hair in a shapeless basin cut. A baggy brown hoodie, combat trousers and walking boots completed the look.

I grabbed her duffle, noting her dad's name stenciled on the side, and led her to our room. She smiled her thanks wanly and I left her to settle in.

We all had a light supper that evening and retired early, the stress of the day taking its toll. Sam and I retreated to our respective corners and got ready for bed. I sleep in a short tee just in case mum or dad put a head around the door, but heading to the bathroom I could see Sam in a pair of men’s pjs. The divider was out and we called our good nights across the room. I think I heard some quiet crying but we slept the night out.

Over the next couple of weeks we settled into a routine of sorts. We would fold the screen away during the day, chatting and doing our homework and then unfold each night at bedtime, each of us retiring to our own corner.

It was about two weeks in, the weather was mild and spring was finally here and I was horny. I put it down to shedding the winter clothes, feeling the sun on my legs and arms, getting the blood flowing.

I had waited until I could near nothing from Sam’s end of the room and then I had started to please myself. I was aching for a good hard cum. I had got used to pleasuring myself at will in a room of my own and now that I was sharing, my poor pussy was feeling neglected. I was intending to put that to rights and enjoy a bloody good, hard and wet orgasm.

I slipped out of my tee shirt and started to stroke my breasts, gently lifting them away from my body, feeling my fingertips dragging on the sensitive undersides. My nipples swelled with my pleasure and that familiar warmth building below, my lips flowering, moistening.

Sitting back against my headboard I continued stroking my breasts, pinching the nipples, stretching them and every sensation echoed in my pussy. Slowly I dropped my hands from my breasts and swept them down my body, slowly stroking toward my moist slit.

I breathed deeply, my blood pumping in my ears and willed myself to be calm and quiet. Ever so slowly I ran my index finger along my swollen lips, feeling them part, the moisture on my fingertip, the scent of my arousal reaching my nostrils. My mind flashed an array of sexual imagery, guys from school or TV, faceless bodies glistening and entwined, even girls from my track team. I could picture their lean bodies, wet with sweat or shower water, their breasts and nipples, the dark triangles between their legs. Stroking my inner lips, I spread my juices, coating my pussy, until my fingers moved easily and then it was clit time.

Stretching my skin from above, pulling my hood back and feeling my heat build as I circled a finger around my swollen nub. I slipped two fingers inside stretching myself and then I tapped my clit, firm taps; One, Two, Three, each tap sending tremors through my body, my much needed orgasm building. Then, bliss; pulsing orgasmic bliss. My hips bucked, my fingers hooked and my pussy spasmed as I felt my juices flood. I could hear myself moan a long deep moan, pure sexual pleasure and release. It went on and on. So long had I waited for it that I clung to it, felt it reverberate. I gasped at each aftershock as my finger gently stroked me down. All I missed was a tongue there to clean me.

Pulling the duvet up, I slipped into a deep, satisfied and dreamless sleep.

----

The following day started off as usual but after college when we went up to our room to kick back and work on our assignments Sam was very quiet.

“Are you okay?” I asked, “Are you thinking of your dad?”

Sam was standing looking out of the window and at first I thought she didn’t hear me, but then she turned and I could see the tears running down her cheeks. Leaping up I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her to me as she sobbed. Slowly she calmed down, the tears finally stopped and leading her by the hand we sat on the couch.

“I don’t fit in here,” she finally said.

Pushing her hair back from her face I just waited for more.

“It’s not you or your family, you’ve all been wonderful to me.” A deep breath and then it came out in a rush, how she had heard other girls at college calling her names and laughing about her.

“I know I’m not pretty like you,” she continued, “and I don’t know about the latest fashion and trends like the other girls, but they are so mean.”

I had never even considered that she would have these problems. She was a decent girl who had lost her dad in tragic circumstances and I saw red. I leapt to my feet, literally shaking with anger and demanded the names of those involved.

“Tell me who’s involved and I’ll make them so sorry.” My voice was not my own, it was quiet and laced with anger and menace.

“No please don’t do that.” Sam pulled me back down onto the couch and took my hand. “I’ve been thinking and I want to change, to be more fashionable.” Looking me straight in the eye she continued. “I don’t want to be shallow and vain like them. I want to be me, my thoughts and values, but I don’t live in the woods anymore. I need to adapt.”

“Okay.” I smiled and nodded my understanding.

“Rachel, I want to be like you, sexy, intelligent and caring.”

I honestly don’t think that I have ever felt as touched as I did then.

After nineteen years I had a sister and nobody was going to mess with her.

----

Neither of us had college the next day so I spoke with mum explaining what had been going on and borrowed the household credit card.

“We have money and Mum’s blessing to spend,” I proclaimed to Sam, marching back into our room. “Now open your drawers and show me what you’ve got.”

“Honestly not much,” she said, blushing slightly. “Dad and I lived a simple lifestyle.”

Opening her drawers I found a few old cotton tees, and a selection of underwear that would look great on a woman three times her age. The wardrobe revealed a couple of pairs of cargo trousers and some cheap shapeless jeans.

“When you shop at a general store and your dad washes the clothes as often as you do, it doesn’t get too fancy,” she commented.

“Okay, well we’re pretty much the same size, so chose from my clothes for today. Give me an idea of what you like,” I offered.

Sam chose a pair of stretchy leggings and a loose blouse, adding a pair of canvas sneakers, and we headed downstairs and out into a bright, sunny day.

The mall was big but, being a weekday, quiet and we could browse at our leisure. First stop was my hairdressers who said they could fit Sam in later in the day.

“So, let’s start with undies and work outwards. Mum always says that good undies make an outfit,” I suggested.

And so first stop, a nice lingerie shop and we started by getting Sam measured.

“34D! Look what you’ve been hiding away,” I laughed as Sam blushed. “So let’s start with eight bras, one a day and a spare.”

Sam chose colours and the assistant pulled from various drawers.

“Matching panties,” I added, “thongs not briefs.” I added several sleeping tees to the pile.

Two hours later we had acquired multiple carrier bags from all the main chains and stopped for lunch.

“This is costing a fortune. What will your dad say?” Sam was looking guiltily at the bags around our table.

“Dad has a successful business. Trust me, money is not a problem. He’s quite used to Mum and me spending it for him.” I took her hand in mine and laughingly added, “We’re family now, little sis.”

Lunch over, it was back to the hairdressers, and by late afternoon Sam had fresh nails, shaped eyebrows and a trendy new shaggy bob.

----

As we arrived home, Dad phoned and suggested that we eat out at our favourite restaurant.

“It will give Sam a chance to show her new look,” Mum said as she hugged her. “You look gorgeous, Sam. Nobody will notice Rachel.” She smiled at me as she said this.

“We’ve got three hours to get ready,” I said as we collapsed into our room. “So what are you going to wear?

“I want to be girly, so skirt, blouse and heels.” She paused, adding, “Even for Dad’s funeral service I was in trousers.”

“Okay, me too, skirts and heels it will be.” Kicking off my trainers I added, "And I’ll help you with your makeup.”

A while later and I came out of the en suite to find Sam in her new dressing gown holding a black thong against herself.

“These are very small,” she said, blushing deeply.

“That’s the idea,” I laughed back. “Sexy and comfortable."

“You wear them too?”

“Of course,” I replied.

Blushing beet red Sam whispered, “But what about, you know, hair?”

As the penny dropped I opened my own dressing gown. “Simple, you shave it off.”

Being on the track team, nakedness around girls was not an issue to me, and a smooth or heavily trimmed pussy was the norm for all the girls. Breathing deeply with that cute blush on one hundred percent, Sam undid her robe and oh, wow, thick curly black hair, and I mean thick. It extended from her thighs to her waistline.

She looked at me with a worried, embarrassed look. “Well, my mum’s family were part Italian and we’re dark haired.”

She was right there. “So I see!”

My eyes were riveted to her luxuriant bush, her pussy invisible behind the curls.

“It’ll take a while to shave that lot off, but I can help if you like?”

‘I couldn’t let you. I mean, I’ve never been touched there.”

“Don’t be daft. We’re girls for goodness sake and almost sisters.”

Almost, but not quite I thought. The sight of her had, I admit, made me feel a bit of arousal. Her body was firm from her long walks in the park, her breasts large and firm and then there was that beaver. Was it right to shave it? Fuck, yes! I wanted to see that cunt as I had never wanted to see one before.

So ten minutes later Sam was sitting on a desk chair, a towel on the floor trimming away her dense black curls with my nail scissors. As I said, I’m used to showering with my team mates but this was the closest I had ever been to another girl’s pussy.

I have to admit that after a moment’s trepidation I was enjoying myself. I could feel Sam’s heat building as I gently stretched her skin this way and that, eager to remove all the hair. The sense of intimacy was amazing. I found myself holding my breath and was probably sticking my tongue out a little as I snipped away.

“Okay Sam, I’ve got everything up to your vagina.” Vagina! God where did that word come from? I guess pussy seemed too rude. “So do you want me to stop or take everything off?” I asked.

“Enough or everything Sam?” I repeated as Sam seemed totally to have failed to hear me.

“Everything please, Rach. I love the look of yours," she barely whispered.

So more snipping and this time my fingers were parting her lips, stretching her out to make the hairs rise and, I admit, stroking a little more than was strictly necessary. I loved the silky feel of it, and then, oh God, I could feel her moisten, could see her stomach muscles tighten as she fought to stay still and there it was the unmistakable aroma of wet pussy.

Hair snipped back I could finally see her labia, swollen and puffy, shining with her excitement. A good-sized clit adorning the top of her now open slit and, fascinated, my finger slowly circled it then stroked it.

Looking up from my labours I could see Sam’s face, flushed pink, a sheen on her forehead, a woman on the verge of ecstasy and rather reluctantly decided it was time to stop.

“Okay Sis, shower time. Your razor will take care of the rest.”

A dazed Sam stumbled off to the shower, leaving me to realise just how wet my own pussy was.

“Rach, I’ve left the razor on my nightstand, would you bring it here please?”

Entering the shower I find Sam under the spray lathering up, her hair protected by a shower cap.

“Times getting short Hun, need to press on,” I urged. “You know Dad’s a time freak.”

Looking at the suds running down her body I suddenly felt so horny. Her breasts were awesome, full and round, her skin naturally tanned and topped off with large dark areolas.

“Shall I finish you off?” I offered. "It can take a while the first few times.”

“Please Rach, yes. Do you mind?”

“Okay, step to the edge of the shower and put your foot on the sill.”

Taking a large dollop of shave gel, I placed my somewhat shaking hand over Sam’s mound and rubbed till I got a rich lather. Neither of us spoke as I started to pull the razor across her skin. Quickly I cleared from thigh to centre, then slipped a finger through her folds and applied the razor around her labia, the dark stubbly hairs falling away.

“Almost there,” I whispered as my finger moved, grazing her clit and spreading gel between her pussy and arsehole, on that sensitive skin there.

“Oh my God, Rachel.” Sam gripped my shoulders with both hands as I knelt before her. Recognising the signs all too clearly, I slid my finger over her clit and stroked it. Her body tensed, racked with pleasure as a massive orgasm took her breath away. Wave after wave seemed to flow through her until, slowly she relaxed, releasing my shoulders from her grip, she leant against the shower wall and slid down to the floor.

“I’m sorry Rachel, really I am. I never thought that would happen.” Sam sobbed. “It’s never happened to me before, not even when I’ve tried to.”

“Shush Hun.” I calmed her down, “I think that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Really? But, well, it was you that caused it.”

“No, I just helped you on your way a bit.” I smiled. “And yes, I really did think that. Now! We have to finish dressing or listen to Dad’s lecture on punctuality in the army.”

Thirty minutes later and we were downstairs and ready to go, cool cotton blouses, skirts just kissing our knees, sheer thigh highs and moderate heels.

Dad lead the way to the car. I whispered to Sam, “Did you mean what you said about that being your first, even when you’ve tried?”

“Yes, I thought there was something wrong with me,” she whispered back, blushing again.

“Well little Sis, have I got things to teach you? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you!”