sighCarly

*Spencer*
I suppose it was mostly my fault that this whole thing started. Not that I’m complaining. Hugh Heffner doesn’t get the kind of job satisfaction that I experience, working as a creative consultant for my sisters web show. Offering my unique perspective for her VIP-only web casts is pretty much the best work any guy could ever hope for.
When my 13-year-old younger sibling started doing her show, I was as proud as I could possibly be. iCarly was entertaining, innovative, and popular. I had been caring for my sister for years at that point, and I’d like to think that it was my own creative influence as a sculptor that had helped her get to this point. Not only was she writing and staring in her own show, but, with the help of her friends, independently producing it as well.
The only downside, I guess, was that it wasn’t particularly fun to be constantly outshined by my own little sister. After watching Carly transform into an Internet superstar in just one year, I found myself looking back at my own artistic efforts with more than a little disappointment. A few crummy commission pieces, showcasing at second-rate galleries, and, of course, the disturbingly frequent instances of my sculptures just bursting into flame.
Obviously, I couldn’t blame any of this on Carly. She was just doing her own thing. If my work couldn’t compare, it was my fault, not hers. I needed to get serious, and broaden my horizons. The gimmicky, kitsch-type work was fun, but it didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere. So that’s when I first got the idea.
The plan was to put together a more mature piece. Something I hoped would convey (ironically, now that I think back on it), the willingness of modern culture to accept younger and younger entertainers as sex symbols.
Carly was enthusiastic about it, when I described the idea. It was an issue that had come up a few times before, when we would read through fan emails for the iCarly site. For every pre-teen girl who was in love with the cool set and funny material on the show, there were emails from older fans, who were more interested in Carly herself, or her co-host and best friend, Sam.
When the first of these messages started coming in, I decided that it was probably time for Carly to get “the talk”, and seeing as how I was supposed to be the responsible adult in her life, it looked like that would be my job. Sam had been receiving similar messages, and after thinking it over for a bit, I decided that even though it was more than a little inappropriate, she should be included too. Carly’s young friend didn’t have the most responsible mother, and this was an important topic. I’d overstep my authority if the alternative was leaving her ill informed and confused.
In order to understand exactly why these events unfolded like they did, I should probably tell you more about my personal views on sex. I’m for it. Seriously, I have no qualms about intelligent people helping each other enjoy something as completely harmless as physical pleasure, as long as everyone involved understand the implications and consequences of what they’re doing.
That’s pretty much how I explained it to the two teenagers, after we covered the basics of it. We had made a night of it, with pizza, movies, and a sleepover for Sam and Carly. After they watched a few chick flicks and had something to eat, I sat down with them and explained how things worked as best as I could, from the beginning. I told them about the biological aspect of it, the importance of safety, and then moved on to the more complicated issues. We covered some of the topics that had come up in the fan mail, and I explained about homosexuality, group sex, BDSM, oral sex, and a dozen other nuances of carnality that always seem to come up when you’re dealing with random people on the internet. Most of all I tried to impress the girls with the idea that although it’s ok to have casual sex, it’s important to trust the person you’re with.
I left the girls to sleep, feeling confidant that I’d managed to explain things in a way that they could understand. It wasn’t until long after that night that I would learn exactly how much of an impact I had had on them.
Time passed and it was six moths later. I was determined to come into my own as a serious sculptor, but I was completely stuck. My new piece wasn’t anywhere near what I’d been hoping for, and I was at a loss. What was supposed to be an abstract, flowing structure infused with youth and lust was just a mess of tangled wires, glue, and little pieces of wood.
Carly could see it too, and commented as she walked in the door, just getting back from school.
“Whoa, Spence, did a woodshop throw up or something?”
I bit back a few choice words, realizing she couldn’t have known how much her comment would sting.
“Everyone’s a critic” I laughed, trying to keep things light “But yeah, it looks pretty bad. Who’d have thought that turning metal and wood into the idea of teen sexuality would be such a struggle?”
“Maybe that’s because you can barely remember what the idea of adult sexuality is like,” she giggled. “when’s the last time you had a girl over?” Man, she wasn’t pulling any punches! She was right though, and although my newfound dedication to this project was probably good for my artistic side, it wasn’t doing anything for my hormones. I was right in the middle of the longest dry spell I’d had in years.
“Well what’s your idea, smarty pants?” I asked, leaving the misshapen mess and walking to the kitchen to get us both something to drink.
“Well,” she started, obviously still amused by the situation I was in, “you can either spend the next two months looking for a girlfriend, and then another two months trying to remember what you’re supposed to do with her, or you can ask me for help.”
In the few months after “the talk” I had been able to see that Carly was getting more and more comfortable with the special kind of attention she was receiving from her older fans. I’m not sure if she was consciously aware of it herself, but the pleasure she received from reading through the occasional naughty email was reflected in the skimpier outfits she wore when broadcasting, and the slightly racier material she was using in the show.
“What do you mean, exactly?” I asked her, curious. It had, of course, been Carly herself that inspired this particular sculpture, but asking her for help with it had never even crossed my mind.
“well, we should do an interview.” She started, settling into a much more serious attitude now that she was thinking about what we would need to do to get results. “Put together some questions for me, and we can sit down and talk about what it’s like to be a teen star. After that…” she hesitated for a moment, apparently deep in thought, “if you’re still stuck after that, then I guess I could model for you. I mean, if you don’t know how to start, some provocative poses might help”
She blushed just a little, but didn’t look away “what do you think?” she asked, sounding just a little nervous at her own bravado “I don’t see how you could get a better perspective on the situation than like this.”
“it a great idea!” I told her, smiling. Truthfully, I was a little bit nervous about the idea of her modeling seductively for me, but after all… Artist use models all the time, right? It’s all objective, just subject material. “I’ll write some ideas down and we can talk tonight, after you guys are done filming.”
Sam and Freddie (Carly’s other friend and the technical genius behind iCarly) both arrived at that very moment, so, aside from one more light blush from Carly, the modeling business was forgotten until the three teens went up to their studio to film.
Three hours later though, when Carly, Sam and Freddie stepped out of the elevator the lead up to our apartment’s loft and discussed plans to meet at school the next day, the idea of what Carly and I were planning on doing was weighing much more heavily on my mind. After spending two hours in my room with a pad and paper, planning out interview questions, I was now less concerned with my sisters offer to model and more nervous about the interview. Once starting on the list of topics I would need to cover in order to really understand my project, I had quickly realized that the questions I would be asking Carly were much more personal and reveling than a few sexy poses could ever be. On top of that, thinking about the subject matter so deeply had left me in a disturbing, strange, slightly aroused state of mind.
I glanced across the apartment at Carly, as she closed the door after her two friends. Quickly, I mentally slapped myself and pushed the all the sexy, lingering thoughts out of my mind. “It’s the lack of sex” I told myself “it’s got nothing to do with her personally, you just need to get some action!” I promised myself that as soon as I got a handle on the sculpture, I would hit the club with some friends and look for a girl that could help shake me out of this confusing, easily aroused funk I was in.
“Well,” started Carly, and as she turned to face me she seemed much calmer and more determined than she had when she made the offer that afternoon, “you still want to do this?”
I paused for just a second, then nodded slowly. “yeah, I think we better. I don’t know how else I’m gonna find out what it’s like to be an iCarly fanboy’s fantasy”
I smiled and gave her a playful shove, and she laughed and shoved me back. All of a sudden I was as confident about the interview as I could possibly be. It’s odd how such a little thing like horsing around can remind you why you’re comfortable with someone.
Carly grabbed a soda and flung herself down on the couch, while I picked up my notebook and pencil from the counter and sat in the chair across from her.
“Before we start,” I told her, “I just want you to know that if you get uncomfortable we can stop. I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not sure about.”
”you’re such a dork!” she laughed, “I was the one who offered, right? Let’s just get going!”
I smiled to myself, confidant that even if she was willing to flaunt her goodies in front of her big brother just for the sake of art, there was no way my sister would be able to make it through the questions I had in store for her without asking to skip a couple.
“let’s start with the basics” I said, as business-like as I could manage, “do you think about sex often?”
“Yes” she said, immediately. The certainty of her answer caught me off guard, and I found myself wondering if I would be the one skipping questions from embarrassment, before the interview was over.
I recovered and pressed for more details. Now that we’d started, I was determined to get the information I needed from her “you should try and be a little more specific. Remember, this isn’t an interrogation, I need to know exactly how you feel about this stuff.”
“All right, well,” she began, going more slowly now so she could think her answer over, “I think about sex everyday. Especially since I’ve been getting more involved in iCarly, it seems like it’s on my mind all the time. I look at simple little things, and my mind starts to wander, and then I just start getting hotter and hotter.” she seemed to be getting just slightly self-conscious now. She laughed again, and finished, “it’s actually pretty distracting sometimes.”
While she seemed to be getting more uncomfortable, I found myself falling into the interview and becoming much more at ease. I finished jotting down some notes and asked “when you say you think about sex, what kind of thoughts are they, exactly?”
Again, a slight pause while she mulled it over and then responded, “well, obviously, mostly boys. I think about Freddie sometimes; he has such a huge crush on me and he actually is pretty cute. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t mind fooling around with him a little. And then, there’s this other kid at school, Evan, and he’s REALLY gorgeous. I don’t really know him that well, but even when I just see him in the hall he can get me pretty turned on. Sometimes I think about him while I play with myself.”
She stopped and looked away from me, blushing again. I thought she was embarrassed because she let it slip that she touched herself, and I smiled slightly, because that question was just a few spaces down the list.
I was surprised when, after just a few quick seconds later, she turned back, looked me in the eyes and said, “sometimes I think about girls too. Girls can get me really hot sometimes”
I carefully controlled my reaction, not wanting her to be embarrassed. It must’ve worked because she went on, “Actually, I think about girls a lot. At least as much as I think about boys. Sam especially, but you could probably guess that. She’s my best friend, and even when she’s being a jerk I know I can trust her, plus she’s really pretty and I can talk to her about anything and I think about her when I masturbate too.”
She said the last part quickly, like she wanted to get it out before she lost her nerve. She gave me a shaky smile but didn’t look away.
I smiled back at her warmly, wanting her to know that she could trust me and that everything was ok. I had wondered a few times if Carly might have feelings for Sam that went beyond friendship but before this I’d tried never to pry.
I dropped the pencil on the coffee table, wanting to help Carly relax, and figuring I would remember this conversation well enough without notes. Glancing down at the next question on the pad I asked “How sexually active would you say you are?”
“Not very. I’ve kissed a few boys, and really, most of those situations were to weird to really count as anything.” Another slight pause and then, “I definitely wish I was more active than I am. But I’m too busy to meet new people and I’m to embarrassed to make any kind of pass at Freddie or Sam. I don’t even know if I could choose between them, because everything is so mixed up”
I marveled at how much I was learning from this. I suppose that before we had started, I never expected an interview with my sister to tell me nearly enough, but all of the things Carly was talking about were beginning to paint a useful picture. I would be able to use this.
“Carly,” I asked her, “you said that you’ve been thinking about sex more, now that you’re working on iCarly all the time. Do you have any idea why that is?”
Given what I’d noticed on my own, and what my younger sibling had confided in me just now, I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that question already. It became apparent that Carly, however, had obviously not thought about why she felt like this until just now. After considering carefully for almost a full minute, she said, “I suppose hanging out with Sam and Freddie all the time has something to do with it. We’ve always hung out, but now we’re together almost non-stop, and it feels like we’ve been getting closer. But I think that what makes me think about sex the most is all the emails we get. They can be really, um, graphic, sometimes, and at first it bothered me a little, but then I read more and more of them and it just feels kinda nice to be admired in that way. I like the attention, and the idea that those people are watching me… it makes me feel so sexy, and knowing what a lot of guys are really after when they visit the site makes me feel a little dirty, in the back of my mind, whenever we film.”
The problem with the sculpture was beginning to resolve itself in my mind. I felt like the issues I’d had with the thing were fading away as the subject of the piece was getting clearer in my imagination. I put down the pad. There were several questions left on the list, and under normal circumstances I would have been curious to keep going and find out more about Carly. But now, my mind was on fire and I’d learned all I needed.
I stood up and offered my sister a hand to help her to her feet. “I think I found what I was missing. At least, most of it. Would you still be willing to model?”
She smiled and gave me a hug, and it struck me that she must have wanted to get all of that off of her chest for a long time. “I can’t wait!” she said, “Where do you want me?”
“I think the couch is fine, for what we want” I told her, “the plan is to do some quick sketches of you in a couple different poses, and then I’ll use those as reference later.”
“Right. Give me just a second!” she ran into her room and shut the door. She’d been in there for about five minutes, and I was about to go ask her what she was doing when her door opened and Carly walked in, wearing the smallest lacy black thong I’d ever seen and a matching black bra. She looked fantastic. Her pert, teen body was perfect, with her perky breast filling out the bra to perfection and her ass swaying hypnotically as she turned to close her bedroom door. My eyes traveled down from those full, bouncy cheeks and locked on to her legs, long and tapered with the softest looking skin I’d ever seen. I was in a daze, and I swear I would have walked over and ran my hands up those legs and griped that amazing, round ass right then, if Carly hadn’t turned back around and caught sight of my face.
“Jesus, Spencer, how long HAS it been for you?” she laughed at my slack jaw and wide eyes as I quickly composed myself and tried to pretend like I hadn’t just been checking out my sister’s ass. She didn’t buy it, and still laughing, said, “don’t worry, you’re just lonely. I don’t really mind” she winked at me and then lowered herself to the sofa. She rested her head on the arm of the couch, curling her right arm back above her head and letting her left lay listlessly across her smooth, flat stomach and small curvy waist. Her hand rested right beside her navel and I drank in the sight of her skin, my mind turning once again to thoughts of caressing it. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply as she stretched out her right leg and pulled up her left, so that it leaned over slightly to rest against the back of the couch while her foot was flat on the seat. This brought her inner thigh into view and I stared hungrily at it, before my legs turned to Jell-O and I sank back into the chair.
The single-minded passion for my artwork that had possessed me just 30 seconds ago had fled when my sister first came out of her room, and now I reached forward to pick up my pad and pencil without having the slightest clue what I was supposed to do with it. I sat there for another long few seconds, in awe of Carly’s young, perfect body. My eyes wandered, almost on their own, from her thigh up to her hips. I stared at the tight elastic band circling them and the small triangle of lace that did a frustratingly good job of covering her most intimate parts. My gaze shifted to her small breasts, almost but not quite fully grown in, but my mind lingered on her crotch, and just as my imagination was peeling that black lace to the side, Carly opened one eye to peek over at me.
“Spence? Spence?” she giggled at me again and this time, the sound hit me differently than normal, and I melted like butter at the innocence of it. “Spencer, this couch is pretty comfy but I’ve got school tomorrow, do you think we could get this done sometime tonight?”
I struggled to bring myself back to the moment and flipped down a fresh page to start sketching.
‘You’re just lonely,’ she had said, and I had thought the same thing to myself earlier that very night. But as I sat penciling in an outline of her delicate body, I had to wonder if that’s really all it was. It was a struggle to tear my eyes away from her and focus on the drawing, and the images that filled my head as I looked over at Carly, the thoughts of touching her, and being touched back, were unlike anything I’d ever found myself thinking of. Finally, after several bliss-filled minutes, the first sketch was done.
I started to ask her to switch positions, and found that my throat was completely dry. I swallowed hard and tried again. “Ok, that’s the first one.” I said, and to my horror I discovered my voice was shaking as I spoke. Could she hear it? “Go ahead and move a little, and I’ll do one in another position”
She sat up on the couch and leaned forward slightly, and then brought both legs up off the floor and hugged them tight to her chest. Facing straight towards me, she tilted her head slightly and pouted.
With her eyes focused right on mine, I concentrated hard and managed to avoid openly ogling her. That is, at least for a while. Almost finished with the drawing, I was filling in some detail and as my eyes ran down from the tops of her knees to her shins, and then her feet, I noticed the little mound of flesh between her legs again, small and soft and barely covered by the small thin lace of the thong. I froze with the pencil an inch off the paper and forgot where I was. I don’t know how long I sat there like that before Carly got up off the couch and turned around.
Her back towards me, she said softly, “it looks like your done with that one, but we should probably get just one or two more. I think we should try something more intimate; I’m not sure if those last two are sensual enough for what you need.”
The strange comment helped bring me fully back to my senses. I sat for a second, confused, wondering how she could think the full soft body and sexy poses I’d just drawn in my pad could possibly be less than what I needed. I was just starting to wonder how she planned to do something more sensual than what we had already done when, with her back still towards me, she reached up with her thin, soft arms and deftly snapped open the catch on her bra. She gave her shoulders a small shrug and I watched in shock as the undergarment fell, almost in slow motion, down the floor.
She let it lay there. Her bare back and creamy shoulder blades filled my vision for a split second before she turned and stood before me in profile. One hand on her hip and the other running small fingers slowly up and down her stomach, she turned her head towards me and smiled, and her whole face was lit up, without a hint of shyness. Her nipples were hard, and standing straight up, as perky and firm as her small tits were, standing out from her skinny 13-year-old frame.
While I sat there, struggling for what had to be the tenth time that night to come to terms with what I was seeing, she reached down to grab the waistband of her thong and knelt quickly, removing it in one swift motion. The movement was almost to fast for me to follow.
She stood again and slowly sauntered over to me, as smooth and graceful as a cat, and bent over to look at the sketchbook. “Do you mind if I see the last two, before I pose again?” she asked, and I nodded numbly as I flipped the page back to show her the first drawing.
“I can’t possibly look that good, you’re just trying to flatter me.” She looked at me and smiled, and I was caught off guard by how insane the statement was. Standing there over me with her chest trust out and her nipples so small and pink in the middle of the soft smooth skin of her breasts, I looked up at her and laughed, and then she laughed, and in a second we were both almost in hysterics.
After a few moments we calmed down, and she lifted the notebook from my lap, flipped to a fresh page, and set it down before turning and walking to the couch again. I watched her hips sway, and felt something stir between my legs as I watched her completely bare ass wiggle as she walked. I pushed down the feelings of confusion and my anxiety about social taboos, and focused on enjoying the view.
Carly climbed up to kneel on the couch seat, facing away from me, and twisted at the waist to look at me and smile. She was absolutely glowing as she asked, “Are you ready Spence?” I nodded, and she stretched briefly, lifting her arms and sighing again before arching her back and beginning to bend over. As she was moving, my eyes caught a glimpse of reflected light. I looked down and noticed that from between her legs, out from the soft pink lips that were coming into better view with every inch she leaned forward, my sister was leaking, heavily. Now that I looked closely, I could see that her thighs were covered with the fluid, and it was visibly running, flowing out of the tight snatch that was now in full view, standing out from between her slightly parted legs.
She knelt, still for the moment, while my mind raced. Compared to the hazy fog of arousal this vixen had put me into earlier, my thoughts were flying by at light speed now. My sister was incredibly turned on. Was this simply the exhibitionist in her, the part of herself that recently discovered how hot she felt when she wore short skirts and tight shirts for her adult fans? Or was it something more than that? These were defiantly strange circumstances, and as I cast my mind back over the events of the past hour, I found my thoughts lingering on the small wink Carly had giving me just before laying on the couch.
‘It’s ok Spence, you’re just lonely. I don’t really mind.’
What did that mean?
Out of nowhere, a loud bang and a young girl’s voice cut into my thoughts. I looked around wildly and saw Sam standing just inside the door. Her mouth was hanging open as she stared straight at Carly, leaning forward over the back of the couch in full glory, with the soft sheen on her inner thighs and her firm breasts poking out, and her shocked face, which was twisted around and staring straight back at Sam. I looked at Carly’s young friend and watched as, with a visible effort, she tore her eyes away from my exposed sister and stared at me.
“I- I just- uh- oh my god! Oh my god! Carly! I wanted to- you know- science notes…” she stammered for a few seconds, the stopped, and turned her head to stare again at Carly’s body, and finally, squeaking in a voice that was much higher than normal, told us, “I’ll get Freddie’s! Jesus, I- I’m sorry!”
Carly just had time to shout, “Wait!” but it didn’t matter. Sam was out the door, slamming it behind her.
Carly got to her feet and awkwardly covered her chest with one of her arms. She turned to me and stuttered and apology as well, before snatching her underwear off the floor and running into room, closing the door behind her.
I got up and walked over to her bedroom door, knocking softly, but there was no answer. I looked down and realized I was still holding the sketchpad. I walked over and set it on my workbench, beside the twisted remains of my last attempt at the sculpture.
I walked to my room, lying in bed for hours, trying to work out what happened, and what I should do.