Incest My Sister in Waterfall rewritten

[neerathemall]

.SUMMER AT THE LAKE WITH MY SISTER

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Christopher," she said. "Let's go to the lake!"

I dog-eared the page I was reading and looked up. Sara, my sister, stood over me, all blond hair and long limbs, a wide grin and shiny eyes lighting up her pretty face.

"What?" I asked. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"The lake," she said. "Let's go backpacking to the lake. There's a little time left. Before we go off to college. We haven't been there for years."

I stared at her, confused for a few moments, until I understood what she meant.

My family had gone backpacking in the mountains every summer since I was a young child. We'd gone many places on many different trails, but there was one place I remembered as a favorite destination. We'd hiked there several times -- Baskin Lake. It was a small lake -- remote, seldom visited, and set about on three sides by thousand-foot walls of granite. But we hadn't been there in years. Sara and I had not gone on any backpacking trips with our parents since I had begun college, several years earlier.

"Um," I said, flustered. "It's kind of last-minute, isn't it? We'd have to get a permit. I don't know if we have time to get one. What are you thinking about? We're both leaving for college soon."

"We've got time," she said. "This weekend. I already went online and got the permit. Two days, and one night. At the lake. This weekend. It's been years since we've been backpacking, and you and I have never gone together. You're not doing anything -- be honest. You've got time. Let's do this. Please?"

Sara was right. We'd gone camping and backpacking with our parents many times, but we'd never gone by ourselves.

"You mean just the two of us?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "I asked Mom. She and Dad are going to a wedding this weekend and can't make it. But we can go without them. It'll be fun. We've never gone backpacking before, just you and me."

She was right about that. We'd always gone backpacking as a whole family. It would be strange going without Mom and Dad. But Sara and I got along well, for siblings, and she could be a lot of fun. Still, the suddenness of it was a challenge for me. My sister was a spontaneous person, constantly dropping whatever she was doing to try something new. I was more deliberate. The idea of getting ready for a backpack trip in only a few days seemed daunting. But Sara was right: I had nothing else to do. I was ready to go back to college and was just biding my time until I had to leave for the airport the next week.

"OK, I guess so," I said. "I'll do it."

"Yay!" Sara cried, throwing her arms around my shoulders. My nose caught a pleasant, fresh scent in her hair as she embraced me, and a strange feeling swept over me. I shrugged it off.

The next few days saw a flurry of activity as we prepared for the trip. Sara initiated it, but with my more disciplined and thorough nature I soon took over the job of preparing the trip checklist and making sure we had everything we needed. We drove to a nearby camping goods store and bought supplies, including food and fuel for the stove. We didn't have to buy too many things. We were fortunate to be well-stocked with gear from previous trips.

Sara and I woke up before dawn on the day of the hike. We finished packing, loaded everything into the family car, which we'd borrowed from my parents, and left home for the mountains just before the sun broke over the eastern horizon. Three hours later, we reached the trailhead. It didn't take long to get out of the car and get our packs loaded and slung over our shoulders. We were ready to go.

A weather-worn wooden sign marked the beginning of the trail, pointing the way to our destination. I held out a hand to show Sara she should go first, and off we went.

I noticed at once how differently we were dressed. I wore standard backpacking gear: khaki shorts ending just an inch from the knee, a pine-green t-shirt, thick hiking boots, and a broad-brimmed tan hat. Not Sara. She wore form-fitting blue short shorts and a skin-tight white top. She wore trail running shoes and anklet socks. A white scrunchy gathered her long blond hair into a ponytail. She looked like she was going to a yoga workout, not on a backpacking trip. But I couldn't complain. She might have been my sister, but she looked good -- really good -- and it was a surprising pleasure to see her skimpily clad body rock and sway as she walked with swift, steady paces up the mountain.

The trail started in dense forest, and the scent of conifers drenched the air. The views at first were limited. Gradually, however, our trail wound its way up a mountain slope, switch backing from time to time, until it emerged from tree cover and revealed a sweeping alpine tableau. Mountains rose in sharp granite spires all around us. A creek tumbled noisily downslope of the trail. A few white clouds here and there pock-marked an otherwise perfectly blue sky. The trail climbed in rough steps, cut into the rock, and my breath grew ragged with the seemingly unending ascent. The 35-pound backpack didn't make the way any easier.

A couple of hours into our hike we stopped, took off our packs, and sat upon a broad flat rock that perched above the deep valley from which we'd hiked. We looked over a small lake, its shores crowded by green lilies. The air was clean and pure, no city smog in sight.

"What's for lunch?" Sara asked, stretching her lean, sculpted legs out over the rock surface before her.

I wondered if Sara was aware of the impression she made. She was beautiful. There was no question about that. The sun overhead lit her up, and her exposed skin glowed against a backdrop of gray peaks, verdant pine, fir, and spruce, and a baby-blue sky.
I caught myself admiring Sara and looked away. I didn't think she'd noticed me staring at her. She was gazing in another direction, across the lake, into the woods. I wondered what she was thinking. She seemed to be lost in reverie.