I picked my sister up from the airport. Since the TSA Homeland Security prevented me from meeting her at the gate I waited in the main lobby and watched the escalator for her. I habitually paced while waiting for her, and then at the top of the escalator I saw her. She was wearing a jersey tee-shirt and jeans her normal traveling outfit. I always thought she was pretty and fondly remembered our adventures when we were teens.
My sister and I spent one summer investigating the wonderments of sex with each other while on vacation in the mountains with our parents. I still remember it and know it was the best sex I have ever had.
Susan called me yesterday to see if I could put her up for a while. She had left her husband, well he actually left her, then kicked her out of the house. She had no where else to go. Mom and Dad were both dead and there were only the two of us kids. We had always been close, especially after that summer. We had a special bond with each other. We spent all day together as kids. Mom even had us bath together until Susan was twelve.
She was entering puberty and I was staring a little too much at her in the bath. I never felt she was that embarrassed but more too old to bath with little brother. Mom thought it was natural to have the kids bath together and never questioned the sexual feelings we were having. It was like Mom approved or allowed them without question. I can remember getting a little hard-on looking at Susan and having Mom wash my hard-on with a washcloth. She could not have missed it being hard as she would gentle wash my penis with pleasing strokes as I looked at my sister's tiny boobs emerging on her chest and the wonderful slit between her legs.
When Susan stepped off the escalator we hugged, a good sibling hug, but I had been thinking too much about her in the bath and popped a little wood during the hug. "That happy to see me?" Susan said with a laugh. "Sorry" was all I could say.
My life had taken an unexpected turn about three weeks ago when my wife of eight years decided she was gay and left me for a woman friend of hers. It explained a lot about the lack of sex in the marriage but still it hurt.
Susan led off to the baggage carrousel. I looked down at her butt, a bad habit I still had, to see if I could see VPL, visible panty line, under her jeans. YES. Good lines indicating brief panties, my personal favorite. I followed her and the bags were already streaming down the chute. Susan pointed out her three bags, and I grabbed them and pulled them off the carousel. She had packed them full. I just about had a rupture lifting them on the baggage cart she had found.
Susan chatted, she always did, a constant stream of speech that filled the world. I would listen not attentively but usually heard enough to nod appropriately or grunt at the correct time with the right inflection of positive or negative. It was like having the TV on in the room but not watching it. We had all her bags and started out to the parking lot.
"Still looking at my butt for panty lines" she laughed.
"Busted, yeah" "Briefs?" I asked to take back some of my power lost in being caught off guard.
"Put them on as I remember they are your personal favorites. They are sheer white nylon." She said emphatically.
The blood rushed south again and I wished Joyce was still with me to relieve my frustration. But then again she hadn't for the past two years when we were together, so even if she was there she would not be any help.
I was driving the Defender 90 a wonderfully quirky SUV that was ten years old. It is the vehicle you see the adventures driving in the jungles. I drove it to work. "This looks like Indiana Jones should own this," Susan said shaking her head in disbelief.
The drive to my house was catching up with each other. Tales of our spouses leaving us, plans dashed, etc. This was the first time we had seen each other since Mom died three years ago. We talked every week on the phone, but mostly it was empty and withholding. It felt good she was here, I missed her.