She Looks Just Like Me!

Whitney's on her bed, laptop glowing, hand shoved down her pants. She rubs her wet pussy, biting her lip hard, eyes glued to the girl-on-girl scene. Knock at the door. Shit. She yanks her hand out, slams the laptop shut. "Wh-who is it?" she stammers. "It's me, sis. Can I come in?" Aidra calls. Whitney mutters a shaky yeah and the door swings open. Aidra bounds inside, bouncing onto the bed beside her. She came to check what Whitney was wearing for their parents' dinner—the fancy one they won't stop bragging about. Whitney blinks. Two hours? She forgot. She needs a quick shower, then they can figure out outfits. Aidra waits, bored, pops open the laptop. The paused video starts playing. She leans in. The actress looks... like her. The shower cuts off. Whitney steps out in a towel and freezes. Aidra doesn't shame her; she's surprised but calm. She didn't know Whitney was into girls. Whitney blushes, mumbles she's still sorting things out. She should have it figured at eighteen, but nothing feels sure. Aidra says you don't ever have to be certain, just honest. Whitney looks at her sister and feels safe. Aidra nods at the screen. "That's me, right?" she asks. Whitney tries to deny it, but the lie crumbles. Aidra presses: did Whitney get off thinking about her? After a tense pause, Whitney admits yes. Aidra's eyes darken. She leans in, kisses her slow and hungry. She tugs the towel away and stares at Whitney's tits like she's been waiting years. Whitney won't need videos tonight; she'll taste the real thing.