The Sister of My Friend

This story is a work of fiction intended for adults only. Any similarities between characters and events in the story and the real world are either incidental or have been put there to increase the suspension of disbelief and would certainly not be admissible in any kind of court. I hope you enjoy this story and any and all comments are truly appreciated,

The Author

Prologue

I had seen Helen at one of my friends birthday party one year, running around and flirting with all of her brothers male friends. She had not shed all of her puppy fat yet, and was wearing a tight dress that was probably a size or two too small. I didn’t mind the view too much, but restrained myself somewhat since my wife was with me and I realised that Helen was still not of legal age. I got through the party without making too much of a fool out of myself, but I felt strangely attracted by the girl just about to turn into a beautiful woman. At the end of the party, just when we were about to leave, Helen gave me a warm and sweet hug that sent signals to all the wrong places.

In the car I had trouble concentrating on driving home while trying to hide the hard-on from my wife. When we finally got back home to our apartment I just had to fuck my wife hard, all the while imagining doing the same with Helen. In fact, I was so turned on that I had to jerk off afterwards, thinking of Helen, when my wife finally had fallen asleep. After a few days I managed to get her out of my mind, fortunately.

The First Flirt

Almost a whole year after the birthday party I got a visitor at work that made me forget everything else (including my important work) for a while. I heard a careful knock on the door and, when I opened it, Helen was standing outside the door.

She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a top that showed off her wonderful breasts. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was using a push-up bra, that’s for sure. She must have felt quite confident with her figure and looks, otherwise she would probably not have worn such a revealing outfit. She sat down and we had a long conversation about nothing in particular, in fact I still cannot quite recall all the subjects that we talked about that day.

I’m very sure about at least one thing, though: I babbled. I probably made a complete of myself, trying to find yet another subject that might be interesting enough for her to stay around for just a little while longer.

After a few hours our talk finally ended when my wife called, wanting to know when I would come home that evening. I felt my voice almost cracking up when I told her “I’ll be home in a few minutes, dear. I’m just waiting for a printer to finish.” Helen was at that time trying not to laugh hysterically (I had made a few jokes just before the call, and those together with my lie were apparently enough to crack her up), so I ended the telephone call quickly before my wife could hear her. Helen laughed, winked and said, “I like a man with humour”. She gave me a big hug that I didn’t want to end too quickly, and apparent she didn’t either. We parted after swapping telephone numbers and email addresses.

I looked at my desk and realised I had a LOT of work to do the next day.

The Friendship

We certainly did keep in touch through e-mails, a few per day at least. Over the next few months we really found a deep friendship evolve, and my respect for her grew each day. We talked about anything that might pop up, including different kinds of relationships, her studies and my work. One subject appeared a bit more frequent than it should have – sex. She had a few misconceptions about the subject, since she was very interested in it but still a virgin, but most of these were at least partly addressed during our e-mail conversations.

My wife did eventually find out that I was chatting to Helen, but after the expected “I don’t like you flirting too much, especially not with someone so young” talk she realised that I still loved her and had no intention of straying. Oh boy, was I wrong.

The First Cut

Helen had her birthday and a party (to which neither me nor my wife was invited, by the way), but that didn’t change a thing. We were still chatting along as we had done for quite some time. We had reached a stage were we knew exactly when the other would misinterpret an innocent comment, turning it into an invitation to something not quite as innocent, and because of that added lots of comments with double meaning to our e-mails. Every once in a while she would come by my work for an afternoon chat, but these were so innocent especially in comparison to the e-mails. Things changed, though.

Helen came by my work on a Thursday afternoon. She was having a bad day, and needed someone to talk to. A big test in a subject she detested was coming up at school, and one of the guys in her class that she wanted to have as friend had fallen for her. I listened to her, trying to help her as much as I could. After an hour or so I was pretty much up to date with all the latest news in her life, but I felt something was still nagging her.

“Could you do me a big favour?” she asked.

“Sure”, I said helpfully, “what can I do for you?”

“My back is so tense, could you do something about it? Please…”

This was exactly the thing I was afraid of. I love giving massages and back rubs, but it’s so easy to let the mind wander and think about what I really would like to do to the person I’m massaging. I knew I couldn’t say no to her, so I took her to a resting room and locked the door behind us.

She laid herself face down on top of the bed in the resting room. I started to gently coax the stiffness out of her back, massaging trough the fabric of her top. The main tension was in her lower back, and when working out the stiffness I couldn’t help noticing her fantastic behind, just within my reach but still so far away. I fell into a daydream about what I really wanted to massage at that very moment.

“… massaging that spot?” I heard through the daydream, realising that I had missed the first part of the sentence.

“Sorry, what did you say? My mind was just wandering.” I said.

“Yeah, sure,” She said. “Probably thinking about how much you wanted to caress my behind, didn’t you?”

My mind was racing – was I really that easy to read? I knew I had gone too far in my daydreaming; I should have listened to her instead. She looked at me over her shoulder with a smile and said “Gotcha!”

I looked straight into her eyes and said, “Yes, but you are too young and I’m a happily married man.”

Her smile grew bigger and she started to giggle. She looked down onto the bedspread rather than at me and said, “I’ve been of legal age for over two weeks now…”

That half-finished sentence hit me harder than any rock could. I would be stoned to death in some communities for the very same act that my mind was contemplating at precisely that moment. I realised that she could be giving me an invitation, or (more likely) was just teasing me as she had done in the e-mails numerous times already. The latter certainly was the more prudent way of thinking and I managed to twist my thought away from the former.

“And I’m still much too old for a beautiful young girl like you” was all the repartee I managed to put together. Pitiful, wasn’t it?

I resumed the massaging, painfully aware of both her behind and my cock hardening between my legs. I tried to find tensed muscles further up in her back but to no avail, it was only her lower back that needed the attention. I realised that I was unable to get her muscles completely relaxed and told her so, to which she answered “Do keep on massaging, it feels so good.”

Just when I realised I couldn’t take any more and was about to call it quits she suddenly tensed up quite badly.

I asked, “What is it?”

She replied, “You were about to stop, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly.

“Just five minutes more, and a little further down” she begged me.

I knew no good could come of this, but I was unable to say no to this teen temptress. My fingertips were probing for a sore spot at the top of the pelvis, but none was there to be found. Trying to keep my cool I started to move up again when she told me to continue downwards. I realised I had no control over my hands as they started to caress her behind. I wanted to touch her everywhere simultaneously. I heard a soft moan come from her slightly parted lips and her body was barely noticeably moving from side to side.

That’s when it happened: My mobile phone rang! Trying to reach it as quickly as possible I slipped on the bedspread and fell but still got up in time to answer the call from my wife before she hung up on me. She asked me why I wasn’t home already and I had to tell her I had been a little preoccupied (no kidding?) here in the lab (hmm…) and had lost all sense of time (true). I told my wife that I would go home in a few minutes and hung up.

I looked at Helen. She was lying there, looking not quite as innocent as the first time I had seen her. Her hair was in shambles, her top had been twisted somewhat because of the massage and her gaze was anything but clear… I so wanted her right then and there, but managed to restrain myself. I helped her to her feet and we both tidied up somewhat before going to our respective homes.

As I got home from work that day I was feeling very guilty and, probably because of that, pampered my wife the entire evening. When we finally got to bed I was full of energy and used some of it to make sure that she had a wonderful memory of that day. On the following morning my wife did ask me about a bruise on my right hip and I told her (at least some of) the truth; that I tripped when I was going to answer the mobile phone.