And her pussy. I'd seen it before, far closer than this. But framed by her totality, it seemed ever more incredible. Full, pouting lips. That tuft of dark hair. Warm, wanting, welcoming.

I could have stared at her for hours like that. It may have been hours for all the time that I spent sitting there, agape. I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. I had to hope that the look on my face, the clear appearance of supplicant worship, would be enough for my sister would understand.

Something must have been communicated, because Betsy reached her hand down to me -- like God reaching to Adam...