(This author does not compose stroke stories. This author does chronicle real-life events in a fictional format.)
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"I think we should swim naked."
"We are not swimming naked," my sister snapped. "You're not swimming naked. I'm not swimming naked."
"There's no one around Sis. Come on. Don't be a chicken."
"You're disgusting."
"It's not like I've never seen you naked, Sis."
"When have you seen me naked?"
"Shelly's hot tub last summer."
It was a vivid picture in my mind; the moonlight, the laughter of the girls as they peeled their bikinis off under the water, my sister's white breasts bobbing just below the surface.
"Oh really? You mean you can see underwater in the dark?"
"Remember when your cellphone rang, and you reached for it and your tits popped out of the water?"
"Shut up," she blurted, crossing her arms over her cantaloupe tits.
"Sorry Sis," I laughed. "It's not my fault. I'm nineteen, for chrissakes, with no girlfriend, and you're a smokin' hot woman in a Speedo."
"Shut UP!" she growled, punching me in the shoulder. "You're also my brother, and brothers aren't supposed to think of their sisters that way."
With a disgusted look, she pulled on her snorkeling mask and did a backwards flip into the water. I followed, watching her transform from the gangly gal in the flannel shirt to a mysterious aquatic creature, knifing through the water like a cartoon character from Finding Nemo. It always amazed me the way Sis took to water. She'd been swimming since before she could walk. The water was her stage, her opportunity to shine in a world that usually saw her as awkward and uncoordinated. But there was nothing awkward about Sis in a Speedo. One look at her bouncing rack and her puffy cameltoe and it's obvious you're in the company of a real woman.
We were in an unnamed cove at Lake Powell, looking for Indian ruins. Or rather she was looking for Indian ruins, I was looking for her ass cheeks to bust out of the back of her swimsuit. That's probably why I always let her lead on these little excursions - the view was much better.
After a short, exploratory dive, she popped back up to the surface. "Over here," she said, with an air of urgency. We did the freestyle out into the middle of the cove, and then she took a series of deep breaths prior to the dive. Sis could hold her breath way longer than I could. I always told her it was because her chest was bigger than mine, but that never went over very well. In fact, I've got a permanent bruise on my arm from being slugged when I cross the line with my tasteless jokes and sexual innuendoes.
Sis submerged, and I followed, watching as she weaved her way down into the midst of what appeared to be an old flatbed truck. In the 1960s, when they flooded Glen Canyon and turned it into Lake Powell, all sorts of things were left behind, this truck being one of them. As Sis floated through the driver's door, I headed back up to the surface for another gulp of air. That's the way it usually worked. For every breath she took, I needed two to keep up.
I broke the surface, gasped a couple of times, and then headed back down, only to find Sis frantically thrashing, as if the truck had her trapped. "Help!" she gurgled, the sound oddly distant and muffled. She pointed to the strap of her Speedo, which was snagged on what was left of the windshield frame. In her struggle to pull it loose, she had only wedged it tighter, and now her left tit was about to pop out.
Frantic to escape, she jerked her other shoulder strap down and reached for the surface, her big, buoyant breasts finally freed from their spandex prison. I grabbed the strap to help strip her suit off, and watched in awe as her athletic body was finally revealed. How many nights had I fallen asleep fantasizing about her naked? And now, finally, my fantasy was coming true, although not quite the way I had planned it.
While marveling at her sculpted beauty, her rippling abs and sinewy thighs, the task at hand was to get her swim suit past her flippers. I grabbed one foot, ripped the suit off, and magically, the other foot came untangled. Watching her kick for the surface, it was rather distracting seeing her pussy blinking at me like a fish mouth in an aquarium, but I really didn't have time to enjoy the view.
She reached topside in a cloud of bubbles and foam, thrashing frantically. I broke the surface a few seconds later and grabbed her under the arms, trying to hold her above water. With her tits pressed against my chest, she gasped and wheezed, puking a huge mouthful of water onto my shoulder.
"Take it easy Sis," I said, trying desperately to keep us both afloat. I was never very good at treading water, and treading water for two was even harder. Clenching me in her death grip, she just kept coughing and wheezing while I enjoyed the feel of her stiff nipples against my chest.
A couple of minutes went by, long enough for me to get to know every curve and crevice of her luscious body as I held her aloft. In her effort to stay afloat, she had straddled my thigh, and the fact that her bare pussy was rubbing my leg was not lost in the commotion.
"Jesus!" she gasped, "that was close."
"You okay now?" I asked, pretending I wasn't totally enjoying the feeling of her naked body pressed against mine.
"I guess so," she sighed, loosening her grip on me, "except that I'm bare-assed naked."
"See? If we'd gone skinny-dipping like I suggested, none of this would have happened."
"Shut up," she said halfheartedly, too whipped to slug my shoulder.
We swam for the boat, side by side, me watching her tits slosh through the water, she acting like she didn't know I was getting an eyeful.
"You want me to boost you in?" I asked, as we paddled up to the edge of the skiff.
"I guess," she sighed.
In all the years we'd been out in boats, she had never once needed help climbing back in, but she did today. I grabbed the edge of the boat, my arms spread apart, and braced myself while she used me as a ladder to climb aboard. Then I followed, boosting myself up and finding her curled up on the seat like she was trying to take a crap.
"Over there Sis," I said, pointing to the other seat, "unless you want to drive."
"Whatever," she grumbled, moving to the other seat while keeping her arms crossed over her chest. I pretended not to look, but of course, I did look. The funny part was, not two hours ago I was trying to peek through the flap of her tent while she was climbing into her Speedo, and now it was all there for me to see. It gave me a strange sense of power over my big sister. She was always the one in charge, but not now.
"You want me to go back and try to retrieve your Speedo?" I asked.
"You can if you want to, but the way it started ripping up the side, it wouldn't do me much good, would it?"
"I think it would look great on you Sis, depending on which side I was looking at, of course."
"Bobby!"
"Sorry Sis. I couldn't resist."
We sat there for a moment, me pretending not to leer, she, doing everything in her power to prevent it. Then she looked up, accidentally showing me a pig, pink nipple.
"You didn't happen to see a towel down there, did you?"
