A Great Reason to Have a s****r!!! (Part 1)

"Jamie, could you help me get this darn necklace off? I forgot I had it on, and I'm going to be late for school."

Jamie was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, watching the news before leaving for work. Heather had just run down the hall from her bedroom, and was now standing in front of him, reaching behind her neck in evident frustration as she struggled with the clasp of a thin gold chain necklace. She was dressed in only her underwear – thin, white cotton bikini briefs, and a lacy semi-transparent half-bra that generously offered up her large, full breasts, just barely covering pink nipples that showed faintly through the translucent fabric. Her breasts jiggled slightly as she wrestled with the necklace.

"Um, uh, yeah, sure, Heather – here, just, uh, just turn around..." She was standing so close to him that he had to put his hands on her hips to move her back a little, to avoid pressing against the front of her body as he rose from the couch. As she turned to give him access to the necklace clasp, he had to forcibly pull his gaze up from the enticing view of her rear, the thin panties stretched tightly over the contours of her voluptuous hips and firm, round bottom. She held her hair up as he fiddled with the necklace. The smooth skin of her shoulders and the nape of her neck were warm; she smelled fresh and clean. He tried not to notice.

"There ... there you go." He removed the necklace and handed it to her.

"Oh good, thanks!" she said, and gave him a hug. She pressed the entire front of her body to him; he felt her warmth against his loins and the firmness of her breasts pressing into him, and was aroused in spite of himself. Then she ran back down the hall to her bedroom to finish dressing.

He sat back down, trembling slightly. He felt the familiar, insistent stirrings between his legs, and put his hand on his growing erection to quell it, but, of course, that served only to encourage it. He didn't want to have an obvious bulge when she returned, so he got up and busied himself in the kitchen, cleaning up.

Heather reappeared in five minutes, dressed in a purple, form-fitting cashmere sweater, a denim skirt, and running shoes. The skirt was tight, and ended eight inches above her knees.

"Got to run, Jamie, or I'll be late for class." She gave him a soft, gentle kiss on the lips. "You're the best b*****r ever!" she said, and disappeared out the front door.

Jamie sighed and went back into the living room and collapsed on the couch. He surrendered himself to what had become routine for him: lowering his pants, he freed his aching, frustrated cock, and proceeded to stroke it slowly and gently. He closed his eyes and moaned as he replayed in his mind the image of Heather in her tantalizing underwear, those tight, tight panties, and her breasts, oh my god those beautiful big breasts, that tantalizing bra! He worked his excited erection slowly, teasing it, tormenting it with thoughts of Heather's maddening body held just out of reach... The pleasure of his orgasm was intense and sweet, but the relief it offered was only temporary; Heather was almost always on his mind, and arousing thoughts of her soon returned.

* * * * *

He wasn't actually her b*****r. Heather's dad and Jamie's mom, both divorced, had married when the k**s were young (she eight, he twelve), so they had spent the last ten years as stepsiblings. They had always gotten along well together, more or less; Jamie accepted his new s****r after an initial period of resentment at having to share his mother's affection with a "bratty girl". For her part, Heather had adored Jamie from the start – she loved having a big b*****r. So, for all intents and purposes, they were b*****r and s****r.

At least, this was the case for a few years. Heather was always "cute", but her transformation into the kind of beauty that excites men started early. By the time she was twelve her figure had already started to develop – her breasts were budding noticeably, her hips were wider, and her long legs, once skinny, had become graceful and shapely. She was still a little girl, of course; but physically she was already fueling men's fantasies.

As for his part, none of this was lost on Jamie. He had reached the stage were thoughts of girls and sex were a major preoccupation. His hormones were raging, and he seemed to have a constant erection, which he worked over diligently in bed every night. As he noticed the change that was taking place with his s****r, thoughts of her gradually began to supplant the magazines he kept hidden in his closet as inspiration for his nightly diversions. This was unfortunate for him, since he was a shy boy. He was never able to develop relationships with girls in school that might have led to healthy sexual outlets, so his erotic fixation on his steps****r deepened and controlled most of his fantasies. He never acted on these, however. To the outside world he was an affectionate, caring and protective b*****r; but inside, he was helplessly obsessed with her.

So passed their c***dhood years. Eventually Jamie went off to college, and the separation from Heather seemed to provide some measure of relief for him. He felt that finally he was going to be able to establish a normal emotional life, one that did not revolve around his sweet but tempting s****r. He dated several girls and was by no means a virgin, but his relationships tended to be unsatisfying or short-lived. This was due, at least in part, to the fact that he would often think of Heather while he was making love with another girl. One relationship ended abruptly when he cried out her name at the point of orgasm.

After graduating, he got a job as a tech writer with an engineering firm in the city. He was able to afford a large apartment by himself, and for the most part was content with his quiet, solitary life. Then, he got the call.

It was his mother. The message was essentially this: Heather, who was now eighteen, had been accepted to the University. She had always been a good student, and was eager to go. The problem was money – they were strapped for cash at the moment, and really couldn't afford the full cost of tuition and residence in the dormitories, even with Heather's healthy scholarship. But, said his mother (and he saw it coming before she said it), if Heather could stay in the apartment with him, then it would be possible – they could swing the tuition. He's got plenty of room, and you know Heather, she wouldn't be a bother, she would help around the house, share with cooking and such, the ideal roomie. Besides, said his mother (and she lowered her voice to a whisper, which was odd since there was no one else in the conversation), they'd feel better if Heather were with him there in the city, at least for a while. "I don't know if you've noticed," she said, "but your little s****r has become quite an attractive young lady. We'd feel so much better if she were where her big b*****r could keep an eye on her, at least until she's a bit more grown up."

And so, it was decided. There was a part of him that came close to protesting that he didn't feel it was a good idea (which from the point of view of rationality and concern for his emotional stability it wasn't); but that brief flicker of good sense was instantly swept away by a rush of excitement. His heart raced, and he surrendered to feelings of sweet anticipation.

Over the next month before classes began at the University he raced around and got things ready for Heather. She'd have her own bedroom (of course), and it only took a couple of pieces of furniture and some window d****s to make his guest bedroom decent and comfortable for her.

And then one day she was there. Heather, his sweet, affectionate little s****r – Heather, his beautiful, voluptuous s****r! He'd seen her frequently since leaving home, but now seeing her here, in his place (their place), somehow added a dimension of intimacy, of possibility, that wasn't there when they were k**s living with their parents. His feelings were confused, and he wasn't thinking clearly about what they were or where they might lead. On the one hand, he felt like a responsible, protective b*****r, who would take good care of his little s****r; on the other, he felt like a guilty k** in a candy store.

Heather was about five foot four, trim and very shapely. Her hair was honey blonde, with a slight wave, which gathered luxuriously about her shoulders when it wasn't tied back or up in pony tails, framing her pretty face in a garland of gentle curls. She often had two narrow braids that hung down along her cheeks, or were sometimes pinned along her temples towards the back, giving the effect of a plaited headband. At times, when she was being pensive or daydreaming, she would wrap a finger around a braid, or hold an end in her mouth, like a little girl. Her green eyes were large and expressive, even without makeup, which she rarely wore. She had a habit, when listening to someone speaks, of lowering her chin slightly and gazing at the speaker intently from under gracefully arched eyebrows; and then, if her brilliant smile followed, the effect could be heart stopping. Many men, upon meeting her for the first time, were hard-pressed to remember her pretty face, because they were unable to get their eyes up that far: although she was trim and agile, she was voluptuous, with high, full breasts, a long, slender waist that curved gracefully out to ample hips, and a firm, rounded bottom – Jamie's high school friends had used to call her "little bubble-butt". Her legs were long and shapely, with skin smooth and creamy as a baby's.

Now, Heather was not stupid; in fact, she was very bright. She knew very well that she was attractive to men, and enjoyed the effect she had on them. But there was one area where she had a blind spot: namely, she was totally unaware of the erotic effect she had on her stepb*****r. Over the years he had kept his frustrated sexual longing for her so well hidden that she never had an inkling of his true feelings – she was totally clueless about his obsession with her. Never shy about her body, she displayed no reticence at all in hanging around the house in just her underwear or other scanty outfits. Certainly not with Jamie – he was her b*****r, after all! He would never think about his little s****r in that way; he probably never even noticed what she was wearing...

Jamie understood this, and it added to his difficulties. He told himself that it would be a betrayal of trust if he behaved in any way other than as a solicitous older b*****r; but subconsciously a part of him was looking forward to being excited and tantalized by her once again – when she moved in, he was in trouble from the start.

* * * * *

When Jamie got home that evening Heather was already there, getting their dinner ready. He got himself a beer and sat down in the living room to read the paper. After a while Heather joined him on the couch while the pasta was cooking. She still had on the cashmere sweater and denim skirt she had worn to school.

"So, how was school, s*s? Classes OK today?"

She yawned and said, "Yeah, nothing really special today. Oh, wait! Actually, something kind of funny did happen today!" She swung herself around on the couch to face him, with her legs pulled under her, hands resting on her knees. Jamie put down his paper to listen.

"Remember that professor I told you about, the one I've got for English Lit.” she said excitedly. "You know, the one some girls told me was a real perv?"

"Ah. Yes, I remember."

"Well," she said with a grin, "it seems he saw something he liked today."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

She jumped up and grabbed a straight-backed chair and moved it to face Jamie, about eight feet away. Then she sat down and grinned.

"So, what did he see?" he asked.

"This," she said. Looking at her b*****r and biting her lower lip, she slowly crossed her legs. In doing so, she lifted her right leg several inches higher than necessary as she crossed it over the left. The effect was to give a brief but clear view up her skirt. Because the skirt was so short, there was enough light to illuminate the crotch of her white cotton panties. With her legs crossed, you could no longer see her panties, but shapely thighs were visible, far up the tight denim miniskirt.

"And then this, and this," she said, slowly re-crossing her legs to the right, and left, back and forth. Each time she did, her panties flashed enticingly from between her legs.

"Wow," said Jamie. "So, you for an A, Heather?"

She smirked. "No, silly," she replied, "I don't have to do that to get A's. I just thought he deserved it, that's all."

"Why?"

"Well, because he was rude, that's why. When I came into the lecture hall – it's one of those really big ones, like a theater, with lots of seats at a steep angle – when I came in at the back I had to walk down the aisle to get closer to the front. The whole time I was walking down he was staring at me. He stopped moving his papers around and just stared – I felt like I was naked! Can you imagine?"

Oh, yes; Jamie could imagine that. Jamie was imagining that a lot these days, as he watched Heather leave for school in tantalizing outfits guaranteed to tease cocks.

She got up and came back to the couch. "So I figured, if he's going to be that rude and make me uncomfortable, maybe I should do something to make him uncomfortable, too! You know?"

Jamie nodded. "So, you decided to give him something more to look at..."

"Right! I walked down to a row that was right at his eye level, and sat down in a seat with no one in front of it. Then I gave him a little show."

"Could you tell if he noticed it?"

"Oh, he noticed, all right! Whenever I crossed my legs he would stare and lose his place in his lecture. It was just too funny!" She giggled at the memory. "Oh – then I did this!"

She jumped up and sat in the chair again, this time pulling the coffee table up close to it.

"I kept my legs crossed for a while – he kept looking up to see if I was going to switch again, so he could get another peek. Then, one time when he was looking..." She slowly lifted her left foot and rested it on the edge of the coffee table. At the same time she parted her legs slightly – Jamie now had an unobstructed view up her skirt to the crotch of her thin, snug panties. "I put my foot on the back of the chair in front of me, like this, and..." She picked up a pencil from the table and began to nibble at the eraser absent-mindedly, rubbing it idly between her pouting lips. Then, looking into Jamie's eyes, she slowly gave the eraser a little lick. "You should have seen his jaw drop," she said. "He just about completely lost it."

Jamie tried to keep his cool during this demonstration, but inwardly he was suffering along with the flustered instructor. He imagined the poor guy was feeling the same urgency between his legs that he was now.

"So, do you think that would really get him hot, Jamie? Or did I make a fool of myself?"

"God, no, s*s!" Jamie exclaimed, a bit hoarsely. "All of us guys would get turned on seeing that ... I mean, other guys, uh, guys that aren't..."

"Well, isn't that nice!" Heather shot back, feigning shock. "Are you saying that all you perverts enjoy looking up my skirt?"

Jamie froze, speechless. Heather giggled at her b*****r's discomfort. "Oh, Jamie, I'm just k**ding you," she laughed. "I know what you mean. It's sweet of you to say I turn men on. But of course not you, silly – you're my b*****r!"

She got up and winked at him, smoothing her skirt down. "Well, I think our dinner is ready – shall we?"

She headed into the kitchen. Jamie gazed longingly at the seductive motion of her hips, then got up and followed. He hoped she wouldn't notice the bulge that was pressing out through his trousers. Later, in bed, that bulge grew again, fondled and coaxed in his eager hands, as he lay obsessing over Heather's tantalizing display. The peeks up her skirt, her deliberate teasing, her taunting tongue – god, he loved it so much! And every day his need for more was increasing...

* * * * *

Heather put the spoon in her mouth and slowly drew it out through pursed lips. Turning it upside down, she licked from underneath, and pulled it down over her lathing tongue until it was clean. She dipped it into the carton of chocolate swirl for another spoonful, and repeated the process, nibbling and sucking at the spoon, finally licking it clean. Her motions were slow and almost trance-like as she ate, mesmerized by the music video they were watching as they sat on the couch after dinner.

Or, rather, the video she was watching – for his part, Jamie's eyes were glued to Heather's lips and tongue as she worked on her ice cream. They were dressed for bed, he in his boxers and a t-shirt, she in a white nylon negligee, short and slightly see-through, with matching bikini panties. She was sitting facing Jamie with her knees up, her face turned to the side to watch the TV. As she watched, licking her ice cream, she absent-mindedly opened and closed her knees in time to the music, and Jamie was being teased to distraction by the repeated peeks he was getting between her legs. He stared intently at the crotch of her panties each time her legs parted; he was sure he could just make out what was behind the translucent material, but the little flashing peeks were too brief to be satisfying. Heather was oblivious to what she was putting her b*****r through, and didn't notice the hard-on that was almost escaping from his boxers.

The video ended, and Heather clicked off the TV. Smiling at Jamie, she got up and took the ice cream container back into the kitchen. Jamie took the opportunity to straighten himself as well as he could, trying to hide the effects of her u*********s tantalizing show.

"Hey, b*o, you want a little wine?" she called to him.

"Wine? After your ice cream?"

"I know, but I just want a little before bed. You join me?"

"OK, just a little," he said.

She returned from the kitchen with a bottle of white wine and two glasses. She poured for them and sat back down on the couch.

"This is nice," she said. "I feel very relaxed. How about you?"

"Yes, me too," he lied. He still was having to cover his lap with his hands.

"Actually, Jamie, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. I need your help with something."

"Really? Sure – what's up?"

"Well," she said hesitantly, "I'm not sure how to put this, but..." She put her wineglass on the coffee table and turned on the couch to face her b*****r. "Well ... OK - you know I've been sort of seeing this guy from school, right? You know, Chris?"

"Yes, I think you said something about him. Things going all right with him?" Jamie was trying to be mature and act like a b*****r; but he actually was feeling a bit jealous.

"Oh yes, we ... get along real well. I mean we really have fun together. But sometimes I'm afraid that I ..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked down, biting her lower lip.

"Afraid that you ...?" Jamie encouraged her to continue.

"Well, I really like him, and I want to be ... nice to him, but sometimes I'm afraid that I don't, well, that I don't know how very well."

Jamie just looked at her, not understanding.

"Oh, come on Jamie! You know what I'm talking about, don't you? I want to make him feel good – you know? Feel good? The way a man likes to feel – down there?" She indicated Jamie's lap, which he was still covering with his hands.

"Oh, wow!" Jamie exhaled, totally unprepared for this. "You mean you want me to tell you, to tell you ... god, Heather, I don't know! You must have learned a lot about ... about that, I mean you were one of the most popular girls in high school, you had lots of boyfriends!"

"Oh, I know, but I was just a k** then, and so were the guys I went with. I mean, I never did, uh, it – you know? Well, not a lot of times, anyway. I know people thought I was real sexy and stuff, but honestly, I never really knew what I was doing!"

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Categories: FetishTabooVoyeur
Posted by tcg
3 years ago    Views: 5,188
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3 years ago
very nice
3 years ago
Bloody tantallizing! Next installment please - SOON!
3 years ago
very good start