I used to hate it when my sister would have a sleepover for a friend or two. What self respecting boy wanted several girls around the house? Even a single sister was a bit much at times.
I found, however, that as my sister grew older I could take a more tolerant outlook on these things. A more mature attitude you might say. (Helped by the fact that her friends were all growing boobs of course.)
Now that's she and her friends are all eighteen plus, I'm downright blasé about the occasional sleepover. I don't even mind when she has a friend stay for a long weekend.
Nancy, that's my sister, recently had Becky stay for a few days. Becky I might point out has grown into a young lady who is very easy on the eye. I had some fun teasing Becky a couple of times over those few days.
The first time was on the first morning of her stay, quite early in the morning. I'd only just gotten up and dressed and was strolling towards the kitchen for breakfast. As I passed my sister's bedroom, the door blew open. It does that sometime, as the catch is defective and you have to bang it hard to close it properly. I heard a squeal and looked up.
Becky was standing there, wearing these tiny bikini panties. That's it. I naturally looked her over. One should always stop and admire the finer things in life, and she was one of the finest I'd seen in a while.
Becky was trying to cover her breasts with her hands, but she had small hands and not so small breasts. She was having difficulty covering her abundance, not to mention those bikini panties giving me a view of a pair of splendid legs.
She squealed at me to close the door, so being a gentleman, I did. She then squealed even louder and said she meant with me on the outside.
I gave a theatrical sigh and went to step outside again. Before I left, however, I paused and asked her to put her hands down for a second.
Becky gave me an insulted look. "You've got to be kidding. Just go. Please." The please was added when I didn't seem to be in a hurry to flee the scene.
"OK, I'm going," I told her, my voice as soothing as syrup. "Hands down for a moment first."
"What makes you think I'm going to flash my breasts for you?" she demanded.
"Good manners? I am your host."
That drew a laugh, which is the first step to getting what I want. She dropped her hands for a moment and blushed at my whistle of appreciation. Then her hands were covering her breasts again and I was gone, closing the door firmly.
When she came out later, I winked at her and she blushed, but I didn't try to push it any further.
The next morning I was walking past my sister's bedroom and the door was open. Becky was sitting on the bed in flannel pyjamas. She had tousled hair and a sleepy look and she looked awfully cute.
Thinking it was only polite to say good morning, I wandered in, leaving the door open to give her confidence. I wouldn't want her to think I was stalking her.
I gave her a cheerful, "Good morning," as I came over, to which she answered with a sleepy "Hi."
I considered her for a moment, then reached down and started undoing the button on her pyjama top.
She looked down at what I was doing, puzzled, and then asked, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm just undoing your buttons," I told her carelessly, as though it was a thing of little import. "I thought it would be nice to see your lovely breasts again."
She just came back with a rather blank faced "Oh!", still being only half awake.
She became a lot more awake when I finished undoing her buttons and then gently pushed her top off her shoulders. Suddenly it dawned on her that she was sitting there in front of me with her boobs on display. Again.
Becky tried to straighten her top up again, but I just touched her arm and told her to wait a moment. Then I brushed her breasts with the tips of my fingers and pulled her top back up for her. It was still undone, but it did swing forward to cover most of her breasts.
I put my hand under her elbow and lifted slightly, encouraging her to stand. She did so, but she was also busy fastening her buttons again.
While Becky was doing that, my hands were going down to her pyjama bottom, and I eased them down. By the time Becky fully twigged to what I was doing, they were nearly at her knees.
This time, her "What do you think you're doing?" was somewhat louder and sharper.
