It was always so cute watching my little sister grow up. She’d flap her wings happily and look so contented whenever she’d spot a new feather on herself, and her naive questions about the world could have melted the coldest heart. I guess a part of me wanted her to stay as innocent as she was then, because I always tried to steer her attention away from the dirtier parts of our sex-centric society. How could I explain our situation to her? The men the other harpies took certainly enjoyed what was done to them, and it’s not like we kept them with us in chains, but I still couldn’t bring myself to teach her what we had to do. When she wondered aloud why the men in the village didn’t have our feathers or who the newest catch was and why he wasn’t there yesterday, the best I could ever manage was a distraction to shift her line of thinking away from it.
 
Time played its part on her though, and eventually she was feeling and asking me about the same feelings that drove the older harpies to hunt down human men. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with those myself at the time, so whenever she would try to get me to explain them, I’d try to get her to play some sort of game to take her mind off of them. But I knew better than to think that I could hide her from that side of life forever. Plus, I figured that helping her through it might make me a bit more secure in enjoying it myself. So one day, when she came to me squirming and squishing the insides of her thighs together again, I told her that we were going to play a different kind of game.
 
I took her up to my room, and slid the door shut behind us while she hopped onto my bed. I sat down beside her and, with a wing around her shoulder, asked her to try and put to words what she was feeling. Looking back, I think I did that as much for my own sake as for hers. I at least felt relieved when she clearly had as much trouble as I did understanding it. She told me how she got all warm and wet down there, and how when she rubbed it or moved her legs she felt good, like her tummy was glowing, but she always stopped herself after just a little bit of doing that. She turned up towards me, a worried look in her eyes. “Does it feel wrong... because it feels so good? I just don’t know...” Her lips began to tremble.
 
I gave her the warmest smile I could and picked her up onto my lap. Gods, her sticky heat against my thigh triggered something in my head I had never felt before, and already I was doing my best to suppress my own rising warmth. I told her that it only felt wrong because it was a new kind of feeling, but promised that I’d help her learn to enjoy it. With a gentle nudge, I moved her wingtip to press it against her damp sex. She gasped at first, and looked up at me as though she meant to say “Are you sure?” I gave her a little nod, and moved my own wing in a little circular motion against hers. She mimicked, but after just a moment stopped. “I-I’m not sure this is right, sis,” she started, but I cut her off with a sweet shh. I decided then that she just needed a little push to help her along, so this time when I pressed her wingtip back between her thighs I held it there. I swear I could feel her quivering there in my own wing. She closed her eyes, gulped and bit her lip, but with a little guidance she started rubbing again.
 
I held her tight enough against me to somewhat still her squirming, and kept her rhythm from breaking pace. With every passing moment, her breaths came out just a little more relaxed, and I couldn’t have explained what I was feeling when she started panting. I was as turned on as I had ever been, but I wasn’t about to let that keep me from helping her. Very suddenly her eyes shot open, and her panicked voice told me that something was wrong, that she was feeling funny down there and wanted to stop. I squeezed her just a bit tighter against my chest and told her not to worry, assuring her that the best part of all would come next. Her eyes watered and she tried to find words between breaths, but couldn't manage to form a thought by then. Her squirming began to focus in her hips, twitching of their own accord, and I sped up the rubbing motions of her wing to match their movement.
 
She mewled and panted desperately, but I was there to make sure she got through it all. With a final quiet squeak, her back stiffened and her body froze in my arms, just for a moment before she let out a long, smooth sigh and relaxed back down against me. Her eyelids drooped and her lips parted as her first orgasm washed over her. She spent a long while there limp in my feathers, catching her breath. I noticed that I had been rubbing myself with my free wingtip while I watched her, something that was almost painful to stop myself from doing. I pulled my own dampened wing from between my legs and wrapped it gently around her body. She finally tilted her head back up to me. “You were right,” she breathed in a low, quiet voice. “That was the best.” Her eyes closed and she let her head fall back against my shoulder. Unfolding my wings, I released my hold on her and gently laid her down against my pillow.
 
“Thanks, sis,” she mumbled softly, nuzzling the pillow. I stroked her hair and asked her if she wanted to do something like that again sometime, but she was already out. I was sure I knew what her answer would have been, though, and I laid down beside her, mind full of confused thoughts. Finally I let my wing drift back down, softly touching myself as I watched her sleep close beside me. Still so innocent, I remember thinking.
 
~Abraxas