There was always something about her, those big inquisitive eyes, the wicked laugh, the sway of her hips when she walked tall and confident. To be near her was enchanting, and she knew it. Even when we were kids, she had everything together: good grades, the right friends, exquisite poise, and a body to die for.
I always believed Nicole was the coolest chick I knew. She didn't think much of me, but younger brothers have a way of getting on your nerves. I didn't mind though, I loved to be around her just like everyone else. Even though there was no chance in hell of it ever happening, my days and nights were filled with thoughts of fucking my gorgeous sister. Keeping those desires a secret for so many years isn't easy to do. Despite her prancing around the house in her underwear regularly, my peculiar desire to see her naked was never too obvious.
It must have been that electric blue bikini she wore in the backyard that attracted my undivided attention the first time. It wasn't until then that I noticed what a sexy round little butt she had. That tight rear kept me awake a few nights, but it was her bare belly that gave me fits. I wanted to mash my face into that stomach of hers whenever she stretched out on our back lawn chair. I don't think she noticed me hanging around the backyard more often whenever she smoothed on the coconut oil and silently tanned herself. Invariably, however, I would end up staring out of the upstairs bathroom window that overlooked her beautifully nasty backyard display.
Her looks made her sexy, but what made my sister unbearably beautiful was the fact that she never seemed to know how much attention she attracted. Nicole remained oblivious to the stares she commanded not just from me, but from every man and boy she walked by.
Nor was she deliberate in her irresistible sexiness. Although she spent a lot of time doing herself up every morning, and blew her allowance on chic skimpy outfits. The ability she had to drive men wild isn't available in a lipstick shade or designer knock-off. But, whatever it was, Nicole just had it - whether she wanted it or not.
I always figured she had to have some awareness of it. She had to know she looked good, even if she couldn't fathom just how amazing she was on an everyday basis. Like when she stood, clad only in a fresh bath towel that hung ever so slightly below her butt. Nicole was a vision from across any room, but leaning toward the vanity mirror there in the open bathroom after her shower, drying her hair and doing her face - those morning glimpses of her fueled my teenage mind with enough mental pornography to put Playboy out of business.
A million times a day I wished, prayed, and bargained with God for her towel to suddenly come loose and drop to the floor. When, one morning, that wish was finally granted, I nearly forgot how to breathe. She was concentrating on her lip liner, one hand operating the curling iron and the other outlining that full, pouty mouth, when her towel slipped from beneath her armpit - almost as though I'd willed it to. A thousand sirens went off deep inside me, and a four-alarm fire screamed in my briefs. Nicole covered herself back up quickly enough, but that brief sight of her young naked breasts and soft forbidden pussy remained emblazoned in my memory for the rest of my life.
God, she was beautiful.
And she remained beautiful, only improving with age. In the years that followed, I took ridiculous risks to lay eyes on more of my secret addiction. I'd hatch elaborate plans to spy on her privately dressing, undressing, and bathing. I managed in every way I could to sneak long looks at her nude form. To me she was better than any of the chicks in my dirty magazines. Better still, she was alive and breathing and accessible. Watching her move around her bedroom in the nude drove me out of my mind. I'd crouch under her bed and watch her strut from her dresser to her closet, taking her time to select what she'd wear. Thinking herself alone, she was so unashamed, so confident, and oh-so naked.
Then, as we both got older, she grew almost as curious about her own body as I was. She would stand for half an hour in front of her full-length mirror some nights, brushing her long dark hair, touching her still developing breasts and giving my fertile imagination more than it needed for countless scenarios of masturbatory fantasies. I often imagined her entering my room late at night, in the dark, wanting me, showing me, teaching me, kissing me, fucking me. And was worst agony of all was knowing I could never tell her - never tell anyone of the one thing I wanted more than life. Keeping my lust for her a secret was the only way to assure a quick glimpse here, a detailed study there. If she'd known I was looking, she'd have been disgusted and outraged. And, even if she had merely suspected my curiosity, she'd have been aware and more modest. Still, I couldn't help wishing and fantasizing what it would be like if only she knew.
As my desire grew to see more of Nicole, her experimenting with boys made me insane with wonder. Whenever she took a boyfriend into her room I couldn't help but imagine what he was getting to see, to touch, to taste. My sister developed a very free-spirited boy-crazy nature, and she snuck more than a few boyfriends into her basement bedroom after mom and dad had gone to bed. The door was always locked, but I'd see them slither through the ground-level windows where it was easy to climb down her bookshelves. How I envied those lucky bastards. And how I craved to watch her with them. To see her fuck instead of just listening at the door.
And, once again, my twisted fantasy wishes were granted.
One afternoon, having decided to skip my last class, I trudged home early and was surprised to hear people in the house when I snuck in the back door. Fearing that my parents were home early, I checked the garage, only to find it empty. In the driveway, however, was the Firebird that belonged to Nicole's latest flavor of the month.
My heart pounding, I quietly investigated the sounds of grunting and moaning. The door to my parent's bedroom was wide open, and right in plain view on our parent's bed, Nicole lay flat on her back wearing nothing but a t-shirt . Her boyfriend, Brad, was on top of her, kissing her neck, and sucking wind into his lungs as he strained to ease himself in and out of Nicole's wet bush. She had a death grip around his shoulders . I quickly ducked down behind a chair, my heart pounding and my body shaking. I had a perfect side view of this private event and I thought I was going to explode as I watched her squeezing him tighter, and frantically digging her heels into Mom's quilted bedspread. At one point they had their foreheads together looking down between their bodies, panting and moaning, watching and listening to his pole slurping in and out of her. Nicole slowly drew her knees up along either side of him and pulled them against her shoulders, inviting him deeper. Brad slid his knees up along either side of her bottom and started to pump her really fast.
Nicole's screams jolted me out of my hypnotic trance, and I knew I had to get the hell out of there, but I couldn't pull myself away just yet. My peering eyes were glued to Nicole and Brad rolling over, and my confident, sweaty, bare-assed sister positioned herself on top of him, placed her hands on his rib-cage, and expertly lowered herself onto him. I managed to reluctantly slip away undetected, and preceded out the door to shoot load after load onto the cold garage floor. This scene would play out in my head constantly for weeks to come, and I can still remember it like it was yesterday.
Nicole eventually graduated from college with honors and got a job as a television producer in Chicago. She married, but divorced the cheating asshole just eighteen months later. I remained single, and liked it that way. My job as a medical equipment salesman required me to work some odd hours. Between that and taking care of Mother's house, I had little time to date, or make the three hour trips to visit Nicole as often as I would have liked. I often joked about how she finally recognized me as a worthwhile human being, and our infrequent visits were always very pleasant and full of wicked humor.
In most things, my sister and I had always been brutally honest with each other, but my infatuation with her remained a dark secret and never really diminished.
"So, have you been seeing anybody?" she asked me on a while we sipped drinks in the lounge of the hotel where my company had put me up for a weekend.
"I was seeing this one girl for a while," I confided quietly, "But whips and chains aren't really my thing, so we decided to break it off."
Nicole howled with laughter, she'd had a couple stiff ones by this time and never really cared about what other people thought. I guess I didn't either.
"What's the matter," she chided me, "Don't want to get tied down?"
I got the joke, smiled and shook my head with disbelief as Nicole laughed aloud again and waved the waiter over to our table. The night was young, and my sister was knocking them back a little heavier than usual.
