Her skirt is short, jacket only waist-length. High heels. Something’s odd about this. You don’t really see hitch-hikers anymore, certainly not one... that look like her. I press the button, letting the window slide down. She crouches down, peering in. Her face is strangely doll-like, framed by a blonde bob cut. “Where are you heading?” she asks. “Where are you going?” “Home.” “And where’s home?” She tells me. “Hop in.” And we’re driving through open farmland, headlamps sweeping across fields,. Like take Lucy - she would never normally show me her tits.She’d never show me her tits.But if we were at a nude beach, if she was showing the world ... sure. Then it wouldn’t be so weird for her brother to see her tits. (She has no idea how I feel about her - as far as Lucy’s concerned, I’m just her sweet, precious little brother, not someone totally obsessed with turning her - and Mom - into my own personal sex slaves.)And if I’d already seen them, then suddenly it’s not as big a deal.The. More

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