My Sister and I

MY SISTER AND I.

Have you ever gazed lustfully at someone you shouldn’t? I bet you have. And, have you ever said or done something on impulse that has forever altered your life? I bet the answer to that is yes too. I did both, and this is the result.

I’m Shaun, I’m eighteen, dark haired, fit, though I say it myself, and a bit of a biker. Actually I’m classic motorbike mad, riding around on an old 650cc Triumph Tiger 110. Never heard of it? Then, man, you’ve never lived. It’s a British vertical twin from the early sixties, and it’s pure highway music when you open her up. It’s not very fast by today’s standards, and its road holding is shit - hence this story - but it still turns heads and I wouldn’t swap it for the world.

The trouble is that narrow tyres and wet leaves are not a good combination, and they earned me a broken right wrist when the old bird slid from under me. Fortunately I’m left handed, but it did mean that I couldn’t either twist the throttle or lean on my clip-ons, and my Friday nights out with fellow classic bikers came to a sudden, albeit temporary, end. It also meant that I was at home when I would normally have been out.

Friday evening is always a strange evening at our house. Dad invariably spends the entire evening in his workshop doing god knows what, and Mum is always out at her amateur dramatics rehearsals (rumour has it that they’ll actually get to perform a play this Christmas), while my dearly beloved older sister, Tasmin, usually cooks the tea. She says she doesn’t mind because it gives her the chance to experiment in Mum’s sacred kitchen, but I’ve always believed that she also uses the opportunity to bring a boyfriend around for the evening, because she regularly has a dreamy and satisfied smile on her face when I come home.

Tasmin is two years older than me but has the same dark good looks and, in her case, a figure to die for. She’s tall, nearly as tall as our father, and slim, but has curves just where you want curves to be, and she’s never short of male attention. In fact I almost feel jealous of her achievements with the opposite sex. But then, I suppose that if I spent less time covered in oil and going on about gear ratios and high compression pistons, maybe I’d have similar success.

Anyway, on this particular Friday evening I was sitting, supposedly watching the television but really half listening to Dad banging about outside and wondering what the hell he was doing, and half watching the grouchy look on my sister’s face and thinking that the look confirmed my suspicions, that my presence was cramping her style.

As I watched her as she unconsciously folded her sulky arms and crossed her legs under a rather short, pleated, grey skirt, flashing a length of smooth white thigh topped by bright red panties in the process. Now, I’ve seen my sister in her undies, in a bikini, and even in the nude, though not recently, and I’d never thought about her as a sexual object until that moment. For some reason that quick flash got to me and I could feel my trouser snake perk up at the possibilities.

I also felt my face go red with embarrassment at thinking, even fleetingly, such forbidden thoughts. Maybe I was feeling sexually deprived, but I also felt instantly jealous of the person she had expected to be fucking that evening. Mentally I started beating myself up for thinking the unthinkable, but even that didn’t stop my cock from yawning and stretching and getting ready for work, and I kept my eyes peeled for any more displays of sibling flesh.

I didn’t have long to wait for soon she was fidgeting in her chair again, uncrossing her legs and slumping down without thinking, letting her little grey skirt ride up in the process so that the crotch of her panties became clearly visible. I stared at her nylon clad mound out of the corner of my eye, staring and wishing, – and denying to myself that I would ever dream of doing anything about it. My god, but she did look sexy, even the petulant pout on her mouth seemed to be calling me.

“What are you staring at?”

Her voice cut across my illicit reverie, making me dart guilty eyes up to her face.

“Me? Nothing really” I cleared my throat as a delaying tactic while I tried to come up with an acceptable answer. “Actually I was just wondering why you look so pissed off?”

“Because you being here has messed up my arrangements, that’s why.”

So I was right, and her remark gave me both the opening and the high moral ground.

“Got a shag lined up, had we?” I smiled gleefully. “Somebody lined up to visit, with everybody else out of the way?”

At first her eyes widened in alarm at my insight, but then she gave me a knowing look and a little grin.

“Now why would you think that?” She countered.

“Because you’ve shaved your legs - and because you look totally frustrated.” I don’t know why I said that last bit; it just sort of slipped out.

“Clever boy.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

Silence reigned for about half a minute or so.

“All right, yes, you have got in the way of my sex life, and yes, I am pissed off, and yes I’m feeling frustrated. So now go in another room and gloat where I don’t have to see your smug face.”

“Hey, now don’t start on me; I didn’t break my arm on purpose.” I waved my cast at her to remind her why I was home. I grinned. “In any case, I can make a good guess at what you would be doing if nobody else was in the room.”

“What would I be doing?” For a moment the penny didn’t drop and she sat looking puzzled. There was a couple of seconds gap. “Oh! You dirty minded sod!”

A cushion came winging in my direction, her breasts bouncing under her white jumper from the effort. I ducked it with a chuckle.

“Well? Wouldn’t you?”

“If I wanted to do that I’d go to my room, out of the way.”

Here was where I spoke that life changing sentence.

“Well, let me know if you do and I’ll give you a hand.”

“What! You’ll do what?” She stared at me blank faced and open mouthed, but more in surprise than anger.

I suppose I could have relied on the old standby and sworn blind I was only joking, but for some reason best known to myself – and I’ve no idea what – I didn’t back off.

“I said that if you fancy giving yourself some finger fun, let me know and I’ll give you a hand.”

She sat looking at me in total disbelief, her mouth opening and closing as she tried and failed to come up with a reply. Eventually she swallowed and spoke.

“I don’t think you would.” She told me quietly. “I don’t think you’d have the nerve.”

I smiled. “Appearances can be deceptive you know.”

“I don’t think so.” She replied slowly. “If I was busy playing ‘squelch’ and you came in, then I reckon you’d go red and run a mile.

“Try me.” I challenged her, my mouth suddenly going dry at the risk I was taking.”

There was another of those famous pregnant pauses before she answered.

“You know.” She began, as if speaking to nobody in particular. “I think I’m going to my room for a lie down. I won’t bother locking my door because I don’t think anyone will bother me, do you? Especially not someone with a plaster cast on their right hand.”

It was both a very obvious challenge and an easily deniable invitation.

“They might.” I told her, smiling. “Especially if they’re left-handed.”

For a moment that took her aback. She had completely forgotten. She hesitated and then inclined her head in mock defeat.

“I still don’t think you would.” She told me, uncoiling her long legs and pushing herself from the chair.

“We’ll see.” I told her, my breathing beginning to betray me.

“Won’t we just.” She shot back over her shoulder as she disappeared through the door.

When she had gone the reality of the conversation hit me and I sat there dry mouthed and actually shaking, frightened of doing anything, but even more scared of not doing. I knew my sister, if I failed her challenge she would tease me mercilessly, no doubt putting it about that I’d been too chicken to take on a dare, but without mentioning her part. But if I did go to her and I’d made a mistake, and the offer wasn’t actually on the table, what then? What if our Dad came in from his workshop at just the wrong moment, what then?

The door from the living room was still open, and when I heard her flop down on her bed with a sigh I knew that she’d deliberately left her bedroom door open too. What was I to do? Was this for real or was it a set up? I had to do something.

I can honestly say that as I crept through the living room door to stand listening at the end of the hall, my legs were trembling and my breathing was rapid and shallow. I was so turned on, and so scared. I mean, this wasn’t just any girl that I was thinking about, a girl that I could laugh off if I’d made a mistake, this was my sister, my own flesh and blood and a surefire exit from the family home if I’d got things wrong. Even so, the sheer thought of such forbidden fruit had my cock pushing at my fly, desperate for freedom.

I stood there trying to control my breathing, to hold my excited breath and listen for the slightest noise from her room. Just the merest sigh or groan, that’s all I needed, or even a tiny rhythmical movement of the mattress and I’d know that she wasn’t just laying in wait for me, fully dressed and grinning wolfishly to herself at my teenage gullibility. But there was only silence and I still didn’t know. The only noise was the reassuring whine of a power tool from the workshop, telling me that Dad, at least, was doing what was expected of him.

I made my way slowly, carefully, anxiously, towards her door, my eyes wide with foreboding, my tongue licking at dry lips and my trembling hand sliding quietly along the wall.

Her door was halfway open, and as I carefully approached I could see the bottom part of her bed. For a moment the visible part of her bed appeared empty and I thought that she wasn’t there, the notion flooding me with mixed relief and disappointment, but as I got closer I could just see the foot and ankle of a drawn back leg, a leg that was betraying the small rhythmical movements of masturbation. A picture of her naked and playing with herself fixed itself into my mind and my cock twitched again. I stood at her open door, watching that leg and trying to pluck up the courage for that ‘this is it’ moment when I walked into her room.

How long I stood there imagining the erotic scene I’m not sure. It wasn’t long but it seemed like ages, all the time watching that ankle flexing and knowing that if I left it too long then she would have finished and my chance would be gone. In the end I chickened and decided on a different strategy, one that left me and ‘out’ if things went wrong, or so I believed. Instead of walking boldly into her bedroom I put my hand out, waving it past the edge of the door so that she couldn’t help but see it and know that I was there.

“Here’s the hand I promised you, if you still want it?”

That way I believed I was putting the onus on Tasmin. She would have to reply without my having committed myself too fully to withdraw. But that wasn’t quite how it worked out.

“Stop messing about and get your arse in here.”

With that the foot suddenly disappeared and a hand snaked out to wrap itself around my wrist and haul me, surprised and off balance, into her room.

“If you’re going to creep up on someone, don’t slide along the wall, I heard you coming all the way.”

She was sprawled on the bed, half propped against the headboard, but not naked as I had supposed. In fact she was still fully dressed with her free hand lying innocently by her side, and looking smugly pleased with herself. I felt confused, wondering if she’d been pretending to masturbate just to make me look stupid.

“Now, you didn’t think I’d be lying here just waiting for you, did you?” She asked, one eyebrow raised. “I’m your sister, remember, and you know that brother and sister aren’t supposed to do things like that.”

“You made it pretty clear that you wanted me to.” I reminded her.

“No, actually.” Her face took on a hard look. “If you remember, I made it clear that I was going to my bedroom and I didn’t expect to be disturbed.”

I thought about it for a moment and then realised that her remarks could actually have been taken either way, and I was so bewildered that I was no longer sure which she had meant.

“Did you really think I was going to strip off and let you catch me with my hand between my legs, much less get you to help me do it?”

I was completely unable to answer her, I just stood there, eyes staring at the floor.

“Now go away little boy, come back when you’re a man.”

She spoke dismissively, as if both the episode and me were of little consequence, but then she looked up as if a thought had just occurred to her.

“You really would have done it, wouldn’t you?” She continued. “You really wanted me to let you touch me, didn’t you? I suppose you would have wanted to fuck me as well wouldn’t you?” Her voice was getting louder and nastier all the time. “You are a nasty little pervert, that’s what you are. Fancy expecting your sister to open her legs for you. Get out of my room, you slime.” She pointed belligerently at the still open door. “Go on, fuck off.”

I felt myself go white and I turned without a word. How could I have misjudged things so badly?

“Now get out and fucking well stay out, and think yourself lucky that I’m not going to tell our folks that you tried it on with me.”

She was shouting now, and I was worried that our father might hear us, so I almost ran from her room, pulling the door shut behind me.

The next day or two were a bit tense as I half expected my folks to start into me for my supposed misdeeds, but they didn’t and I finally began to relax. It seems that Tasmin had, at least, saved me that embarrassment. Even so, she didn’t leave it alone altogether and kept rubbing my nose in it with snide comments and suggestive looks. Her last remark came when I eventually had my cast taken off, the event giving her the chance to ask, in front of our parents, if I intended exercising my fingers now they were free. They didn’t understand what was to them an odd remark, and I just kept my head down and ignored her.

At least now I was able to get back on my bike and enjoy a ride out. It was good to get away from the place, leaving Tasmin free to pursue her clandestine sex life in peace.

It had already occurred to me to wonder why she didn’t openly have a boyfriend, after all, she was easily old enough and our parents weren’t prudes, and then one Friday evening I got to wondering why, and who this secret boyfriend might be. I decided to go back unexpectedly early and surprise them.

Our house is a bungalow, and rather a large sprawling one, set back from the roads and in its own grounds. There are quite a few bushes and small trees by the roadside and so it’s not possible to see the actual building until you’re part way up the drive.

Dad had already retired to his workshop before I left, so I returned about an hour or so later, figuring that was long enough for things to have begun if they were going to. Even so I hesitated at the gate, trying to convince myself that I should or shouldn’t do what I intended. Eventually I parked the bike behind the shrubbery and set of up the drive, automatically walking as silently as I could even though it was my own home, pausing when I reached the bend that would give me first sight of the house.

I was immediately struck by how quiet and dark it all was. It seemed as if no one was home, with only the porch light and the one glowing faintly from the hall showing that there was even a building there. I stood watching and wondering for a minute or so, trying to figure out if that’s how it should look normally or if it was unnaturally quiet. Perhaps it was simply that everyone had gone out, but somehow I didn’t think so. I wasn’t sure what, but something was bothering me. I stepped to the side and walked on the grass instead of the drive, still instinctively trying to keep my approach silent.

I got close to the house, keeping well to the side, hearing and seeing nothing; even my father’s workshop was now silent and dark. Now I had to make a choice, and I’d not thought it through. Should I enter boldly through the front door and see who I could flush out, with all its potential for embarrassment? Or should I creep around the outside and listen at my sister’s window to see if I could figure out who she was with that way? I chose the latter.

Tasmin had always been very careful about drawing her curtains ever since we moved into the bungalow and had bedrooms on the ground floor, so I hadn’t expected there to be any gaps. But this time there was. Not much of a gap, just a small triangle of light where the curtains hadn’t quite come together at the bottom, but it was a gap nonetheless. I hurried forward, breathing excitedly at this unexpected but welcome development.

The view I got was tiny and incomplete, but it was enough. By standing and looking through the gap diagonally I was able to see that there were two apparently naked people on the bed, a girl, presumably Tasmin, who was lying on her back with her legs apart, and a man lying between them. I was just able to see the top of her legs and her pussy, or at least, I could when the man pulled back in readiness for the next stroke. Then I could see his cock penetrating her, pushing in and out like a piston, withdrawing into view and then disappearing into her hole and behind his body as he plunged forward. God, it was quite a turn on to watch my sister being fucked by this mysterious boyfriend.

I must admit that this was the first time I’d ever watched anyone being fucked, or doing the fucking for that matter, and I stood there absolutely fascinated, my own cock growing by the second. He, whoever ‘he’ was, didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry, he just kept up the same slow relentless rhythm even though I could hear Tasmin’s pre-orgasmic shouts through the double glazing. She was bucking under him as if to hurry him along, but he just kept going, in and out, in and out, until her orgasm was over and she lay passively beneath him.

By now my hand had automatically unzipped my flies and I had started wanking, steadily, in time to his movements. You can have no idea how randy it was making me feel seeing my own sister getting fucked, and how much my heart was pounding as I watched and furtively played with myself. I think part of the thrill was the very fact that they had no idea I was there, no idea that someone was spying on them.

I don’t know what made me do it, but as I watched and wanked I felt for my ‘phone with my free hand and took a couple of quick photos, poor shots though they were through such a tiny gap and with such low light levels. I think at the time I had some idea of using them for wanking fodder later on, but in the end I found a better use for them.

Her partner slowly began to speed up, and so did I, my hand keeping pace with his thrusts. She was beginning to react again, turned on again by the relentless fucking she was receiving, her hips moving up to meet his and letting their bodies slam together. It was a wonderful sight, especially as they got quicker and quicker, driven on by developing orgasms. I was just beginning to feel that I could cum to, and I wondered for the moment if we might all cum together, but it was not to be, they were both well ahead of me in that department.

The first to cum was Tasmin’s anonymous lover, ramming himself into her with a roar that was audible out here in the garden, and then grinding himself deeper within her pussy as he let fly his load. That did it for Tasmin and she came for the second time, uttering the same unintelligible shouts of pleasure that mixed with his in pure delight. I could see that her legs looked to be locked around his back to hold him into her, her thighs flexing and moving in unison with his pounding cock. I was getting closer myself, feeling that beautiful pressure building inside my balls as I watched them slow and eventually collapse together as their orgasms past.