I had at least an hour before I needed to leave if I wanted to arrive thirty minutes early. I hastily cleaned the bathroom and living room before tackling the dishes. Before leaving, the last thing I did was drag my sleeping bag and a yoga pad out of the closet. The thin cushion wasn't thick enough to be comfortable on the hardwood floor, but it was the best I could do. I was willing to suffer so my little sister could have my bed.
I checked the mailbox on my way out and found the letter from my sister, which only arrived this afternoon. The letter confirmed she would be coming today. Megan always waited until the last minute, and the late letter was another glaring example. If she'd sent it airmail, I would have gotten it days ago and would have had time to prepare. If she'd spent the extra dime, I wouldn't be Paul's slave for a month. Now, the letter told me nothing I didn't already know.
Driving Paul's red 1969 BMW 2800CS coupe was a dream. The engine purred like a kitten, and the luxury car took corners like it was on rails. I didn't want to think about how many girls had lost their virginity on the plush leather seats.
The hour-long trip gave me plenty of time to think about my little sister. I was the youngest of three boys until Megan was born eight years after me. My oldest brother, Scott, said she was an accident since my parents were in their forties and all of us had been born two years apart. However, we all quickly fell in love with our precious baby sister. With three brothers, it was natural that she grew up a tomboy. While she was a child, she loved to rough house with us. As her youngest brother, I often got the welcome task of being her babysitter. I became her protector and her favorite brother.
I thought about the last time I had seen my little sister. It had been the summer after my first year of graduate school at Cornell. Protests against the war in Vietnam had become commonplace on college campuses in 1966, and after reading about the history of the conflict, I joined the opposition.
My Dad had fought the Nazis at the Battle of the Bulge and was a true patriot. He refused to believe his government would lie to him. I'll give him credit. He listened for a few minutes while I pointed out that the South Vietnamese government we supported consisted of traitors who had collaborated with the Japanese occupiers in WWII. The South Vietnamese citizens either hated the government or wanted to be left alone.
On the other hand, Ho Chi Min had fought against the Japanese with the aid of American advisors. I had barely gotten started on my tirade when he stormed out of the room. I cut my visit short and returned to Cornell. I hadn't gone back since, and it was the last time I saw my little sister, who was fourteen years old at the time. Even though I knew she was now eighteen, I still pictured her as the skinny tomboy she had been when I saw her last.
I was sorry the trip was half over when I pulled into the airport parking lot. Someday, I would own a new sports car as sweet as my roommates. I was a good forty minutes early when I strolled into the terminal. When I checked the arrival information, I was annoyed to see that my sister's flight had been delayed by an hour and a half. It was going to be a late night.
The sun was close to setting when my sister's flight landed. It had been one of a string of hot, muggy days in Central New York, and the gathering clouds promised thunderstorms and hopefully some temporary relief from the oppressive heat. Our childhood in Southern California had made us accustomed to hot, dry summer days. I wondered what my sister would make of her first exposure to heat combined with high humidity.
In 1970, Syracuse was a small regional airport served by Mohawk Airlines. The small terminal didn't have jetways, and passengers departed from the medium-sized turboprops using mobile stairways. I eagerly watched for my little tomboy sister as people buffeted by the gusty wind carefully descended the steep stairs. There was a delay as a pair of burly airline personnel helped a disabled soldier in uniform down the stairs to a waiting wheelchair.
That was when I saw a goddess exit the plane and stand swaying at the top of the stairs. The gorgeous young woman was clutching the railing as one hot, humid gust after another threatened to blow her away. She had long, athletic legs topped by a red plaid miniskirt that swirled around the top of her thighs. I wasn't the only man mesmerized by her breathtaking legs and the frequent flashes of her lacy white panties. The men unloading the baggage paused to stare at the lovely sight. The attendants aiding the wounded warrior also slowed their descent to a crawl as they fixed their gaze on the gorgeous woman. The young soldier had a massive grin on his face.
I'm a leg man, and my gaze had been locked on the most beautiful pair I had ever seen. It was a couple of minutes before I checked out the rest of her. She was wearing a white crop top that left several inches of firm, well-tanned abdomen exposed. The loose silky top billowed around large generous breasts. The deep V-neck revealed her voluptuous cleavage. If she hadn't been wearing a red daypack, the wind gusts would have blown her top up to her trim neck and wholly expose her sexy push-up bra. Instead, we were treated to occasional glimpses of the sheer lacy bra.
I noticed she was wearing high-heel platform wedges that showed her painted toenails. The bright red color of her toenails, her pleated miniskirt, her daypack, and her fingernails matched. The gorgeous young woman had long golden curls swirling around her oval face that concealed her features. A strong gust blew her hair aside and confirmed that her lipstick was the same shade of rich red. Her dark eyebrows betrayed the fact her hair color came from a bottle. She was a gorgeous example of a Southern California surfer girl.
I spend a few seconds trying to get a look at her face. She looked familiar, but my glimpses of her face were too brief to place her. Had I seen her in a movie? It didn't make sense. What would a movie star be doing in upstate New York?
My attention went back to her legs as she descended the stairs. Damn, she was hot. My cock was as hard as a steel rod, and it was making a sizable tent in my basketball shorts. I hoped my erection would go down before I hugged my little sister.
I wasn't the only man standing at the terminal window staring at the smoking hot blond. In the few minutes since the plane arrived, I had become surrounded by a crowd of excited men. I heard a middle-aged woman yelling at her husband to stop ogling the young woman.
The sexy young woman finally reached the bottom of the stairs. She strolled over to the soldier who had been helped into a wheelchair. She bent over and gave him a long kiss before the attendants wheeled him into the terminal.
I lost sight of the blond when she entered the crowd around the doorway into the terminal, and I turned my attention back to the aircraft. My sister still hadn't exited the plane, and I kept searching for a gawky dark-haired tomboy with increasing apprehension. I hoped she hadn't been bumped from the flight.
I heard a high-pitched shriek behind me as a female voice shouted my name. "Steve!"
I barely turned around before the ravishing blond bombshell wrapped her arms around me and planted a kiss on my lips. She mashed her plump breasts against my chest and wiggled her curvy hips against my crotch. The stunning goddess smelled of warm California sunshine on an orange grove.
The kiss went on far too long, even for long-separated siblings, but I was reluctant to break the firm grasp of her bare arms. My sister finally broke the kiss but kept her arms wrapped around my neck. Damn, with her high heels, she was as tall as I was. She had to be at least 5' 10."
"I'm so happy to see my favorite brother. It's been forever." She looked down at the tent in my shorts and giggled. "It looks like someone else is excited."
"Oh my God, you've grown taller and developed curves."
Megan took my comment as a compliment and pressed her lithe body back against mine. This time when she kissed me, she wrapped her hand around the back of my neck and drove her tongue into my mouth. She ground her curvaceous hips against my raging hard-on with such vigor that I was afraid I would cum in my shorts.
Just before disaster struck, Megan released me and took a step back. "We were stuck on the runway in Chicago forever waiting for a monster thunderstorm to pass. I'm still terribly frightened by thunder, but luckily, my seatmate let me clutch his arm. Bill was severely injured by a mine while on patrol in Vietnam. He just got out of the hospital and is on the way home. He's a sweet man. I got his address and promised to write."
My sister hadn't changed a bit. She was always rescuing injured animals. Making a wounded soldier welcome on his return home was an even better use of her charity than saving a baby bird. Despite my opposition to the damn war, I respected the sacrifices made by the soldiers. It was the assholes in Washington that were the focus of my anger.
