My head perked up as soon as the shower stopped running. In a matter of seconds, my sister would step out of the steaming bathroom with a thin towel wrapped around her curvy body. She would clutch the towel at her chest as she made the short trek to her room. Every night, I prayed that it would slip through her clumsy fingers and fall to the floor. Just once. Michelle had tripped on and slammed into just about every piece of furniture in our apartment and dropped her fair share of fine china. Surely, she could accidentally release her towel before making it to her bedroom. Just once.
Michelle and I had been practically inseparable since childhood, so it was inevitable that we would attend the same college. However, she got there first because she was a year older than me. By the time I arrived at our Southern California apartment, she was 19 and I was 18. She had already established roots and joined a sorority, while I was a fish out of water. Being the dutiful older sister, she would always try to drag me out of my shell by inviting me to dinners and parties with her friends. I never fit in with those people. I only went because Michelle asked me to, and I could watch her dance in her skimpy outfits.
Sometimes, when she got particularly tipsy, she would drag me to the dancefloor, and I would hesitate at first but ultimately succumb to her propositions. Her friends thought it was hilarious, but I found it incredibly arousing to feel her body so close to mine and to feel her hips gyrating against me. Her undersized crop tops accentuated her supple breasts and exposed her stomach, and her bare thighs were highly visible thanks to the miniskirts and short shorts. All of that, combined with the erotic way in which she moved, caught the attention of many guys, and I could always feel them watching. I couldn't blame them, as I was ogling the exact same features that made them drool. The only difference was that it was my crotch she grinded up against, my erection that she teased with her round buttocks. It never took long for me to mysteriously disappear into the bathroom.
When I didn't go out with Michelle, I eagerly waited for her to return and take her hot shower. I sat dutifully on the living room couch every night, pretending to watch TV. In reality, I was waiting to catch a whiff of her sugary scent as she passed by on her way out of the bathroom. Just the glimpse of her bare skin in my peripheral and the knowledge that she was naked under the towel had me fully erect. Her perfectly curved pink soles teased me as she disappeared into her bedroom. I would have given anything to make that hallway longer.
Friday nights were the most exciting, as we would always watch a movie to relieve the stress of our classes. Michelle had a particularly sexy and carefree aura about her when the weekend came around. She giggled more, showed more skin, and was more physically playful. She would kick me like siblings do to annoy each other, having no idea how turned on I was at the feeling of her soles against my skin. I would ask her to stop and insult her "smelly" feet, prompting her to rub them in my face and allowing me to inhale her scent for the briefest of moments. She would try to smother me with the couch cushions, not knowing how close I was to cumming when she straddled me.
She would wear short, thin, and lacy nightgowns through which her nipples were easily visible. When she leaned against me lovingly, it took an extraordinary amount of willpower not to peek down at her cleavage or bare legs. It was worse when we watched horror movies, as she would grasp me tightly and bury her face into my shoulder.
Once, a particularly shocking scene made her jump, and she fell onto me, her body pressing against my erection. I came into my pants as she gripped my shirt and screamed into my neck. That was the closest I had come to sex at that point, and it was courtesy of my own sister. Michelle was never shy about flaunting her sexuality, unknowingly torturing me on a daily basis, but that was on another level. I could only imagine what it was like for the guys who actually had sex with her. I could never fathom why she constantly torpedoed her relationships and only picked guys who didn't know how to appreciate her devastating beauty.
---
One day, I couldn't take it anymore and made the fateful decision to follow Michelle to her room after her shower. She stood in front of a standing mirror, shuffling her damp blonde hair. From the slit in the doorway, I had almost the perfect angle. After a few moments of cleaning up her face, she finally slipped off the towel. My eyes went wide and my heart pounded furiously. I almost exploded right then and there.
Michelle's perfect bare ass was in full view, and her hourglass figure was stunning. This was leaps and bounds beyond what I had been exposed to up to that point. Desperate and reckless, I opened the door just a smidge and squinted my eyes. I only caught a tiny hint of her brown areola, but that was more than enough. I had only ever glimpsed her plump breasts through her clothing, occasionally catching the outline of her nipples when she chose not to wear a bra. Now I had just a little bit more, but it felt like I had won the lottery. I escaped back to my room to satisfy an unbearable urge.
Since then, I viewed Michelle in a totally different light. I was always attracted to her, but now I knew what she looked like without all of her obstructive clothing, and her naked body was all I yearned for. How could I look at her backside and not think of her smooth, round asscheeks hiding just beneath her jeans? How could I catch a glimpse of her cleavage without imagining the soft, brown areola being pressed against the fabric? She was driving me wild, and she didn't have a clue. She just kept strutting her legs and swaying her hips as she walked in front of me, twirling her hair and humming in her sexy voice as we drove, and laying on her stomach with her feet dangling cutely behind her as she relaxed on our couch.
I had it bad, and my mind was swirling out of control. I needed more. I wasn't satisfied with the occasional peek through her door after a shower, or the inadvertent foreplay that only happened on Friday nights. I needed something more permanent to satisfy the urges that flowed through me day in and day out. I gathered the courage and decided to take a picture of Michelle during that brief moment when she transitioned from towel to pajamas, when she would be completely naked, just like I saw that one night. This would have been safer than ogling her all day long or peeking through her door every night. Or so I thought.
So, one night, I followed Michelle to her room after her shower, as usual. But this time, I took my phone with me, my hands trembling with anticipation. As I opened the door to take the photo, the phone slipped from my fingers and fell to the carpet with a soft thump. That was enough for Michelle to spin around, clutching the towel close to her chest. When she saw my phone on the floor and me peering through the doorway, she let out a sharp, prolonged gasp.
"Oh no, sis. It's not what you think, I swear!" I blushed at how pathetically unconvincing I sounded.
"Then what were you doing outside my room with your phone?" She cocked an eyebrow.
"I-I-I... I was just passing by, and it slipped." I shrugged awkwardly.
"Oh, really? It slipped past my door and into my room?"
I glanced sideways, unable to come up with another lame excuse. I swiped my phone from the floor and bolted.
"What the!? Nick, you perv! Get back here!" Michelle's screams disappeared behind me as I ran into my room and locked the door.
A few seconds later, I heard the inevitable pounding against my door. "Nick, you better open this goddamn door! I'm gonna fucking bury you!" With one final kick, Michelle let out a frustrated scream and retreated.
I was too scared to leave my room for the rest of the night and ended up falling asleep on my bed. I thought I had gained some temporary peace. I was wrong.
---
I woke up to the feeling of my arms being raised in an awkward position. When I tried to move, I felt pressure against my wrists, accompanied by the sound of metal. I looked up and realized that I was handcuffed to the bars of my headboard. My jaw dropped in horror as I struggled futilely to free myself. Soon, my wrists turned red, and I was out of breath. I gave up, chained to my bed like a prisoner. I knew I deserved it, but I was terrified for what might come next.
A few minutes later, Michelle burst through the door, and I saw in her eyes that her fury hadn't subsided. The noise made me jump, and I was actually shaking. I had never been this afraid.
"S-s-sis! What are you... how did you... w-what's going to happen? I'm really sorry! Please don't hurt me, okay?" I tried to squirm away as she walked closer, but with both arms locked behind me, I remained exposed to her anger.
"You're not the only one who knows how to be sneaky around here." She tossed the paperclip that she had used to unlock my door. "And you can forget about the keys to those handcuffs. I don't even remember where I put them."
"Oh, come on, 'Chelle! I said I'm sorry. What more do you want? What are you gonna do?" I was almost crying.
Michelle grabbed my phone from the nightstand. "I bet you deleted the photos after sending them to all your friends." She scrolled through my phone, her fingernail tapping angrily against the screen each time she swiped. Finding nothing, she threw it at my stomach. It landed with a slap, causing me to groan in pain.
"I-I didn't send it to anyone, I swear!"
"That means you were taking them for yourself to jack off with. Isn't that right, you little pervert?"
I realized then just how idiotic I was. I had practically confessed everything. As my last hope, I thought that maybe Michelle could see how sorry I was. She either didn't see it, or didn't care.
"So I've been thinking..."
It was bad enough when Michelle said that under normal circumstances. Now, with me chained to the bed and her standing angrily over me, I legitimately thought I might die right then and there.
