A Summer With My Sister; Pt 1

As I watched our parents pull out of the driveway, a profound giddiness crept over me. I had been waiting for this day since they told us about their second honeymoon at the beginning of the school year. For almost nine months, I dreamt about having the entire summer alone with you, my sister. I have always wanted to hold you, to feel your lips against mine as I thrust myself deep inside you, slowly and sweetly. Ever since we were young, when you accidentally lost your swim trunks in the ocean and I got to see your delicate budding breasts, I have wanted you above all others. No other woman has ever sparked such a rush in my heart and trousers.

Day after painstaking day, the thoughts and desires of what I was going to do to you lingered in my mind, making studying nearly impossible. I fantasized about it daily, sometimes multiple times a day, vigorously entertaining myself with vivid hallucinations of being in your bed, stuffed animals all around, watching us sin. Yet, I still managed to pull off a 4.0. I suppose the determination of getting to the end of the year no matter what motivated me to do little else but drone through the year in eager, concentrated anticipation.

The last few weeks after the semester ended were the worst. I almost died during the first week back home while you were still away at college. Every second was torture; the second hand on the clock seemed to tock backwards for every tick forwards. Our father’s stories, the same ones he has told the family a dozen times (if not more) made every meal an agonizing torture.

Yet, as the sand from the hourglass of mundane life fell grain by grain, eventually you pulled in the driveway. Seeing you in that floral print dress as you stepped out of your car made me dizzy. The way the wind made the fabric betray your subtle curves gave me goosebumps. I almost could not help you carry your luggage inside. I felt drunk with joy.

Suddenly the luxurious dream home our father labored tirelessly to afford for our mother seemed small. I was acutely aware of wherever you were in the house at any given time. I could feel your breathing in the middle of the night. I am even certain I heard you masturbating once. Every time I heard your clothes slide off, my imagination immediately jumped to mapping out what you looked like with sonar-like precision. I could not wait to see your minuscule body with my own eyes.

That moment you walked in the door, now officially an adult after your freshman year at college, I wanted to hold you down and make you mine. I had to be patient though. This was a delicate operation. I had no idea if you wanted me. In fact, I was pretty sure you would think me repulsive for even thinking of you as desirable. But, I was determined. I would pull the wool back on this deeply seeded cultural taboo, and we would be lovers regardless of what the world thought.

So, when the day finally came, and our parents set off for two months in Hawaii, I was ready. Even though I had plans, ideas of how to make this a reality, the sudden fruition of all these perverted desires came roaring in a mind-numbing stand still. Even though you were immersed in your book on the couch, you picked up on it. You asked “What’s wrong?” and I sheepishly grinned and shook my head. With butterflies dancing in my stomach, and my sheathed, throbbing member hiding under my blanket, I looked into your prismatic green eyes and shrugged off the notion by changing the subject.

I asked you what you were going to do over the summer. You told me that you had plans to go upstate with your friend Becky for a few weeks, and my heart sank. The thought of being immediately let down from my sexual salvation was too much for my deranged mind to bear. Fortunately, you told me that those plans had fallen through, and now you were looking at a blank calendar until school started back up in the fall.

I smiled, and you beamed back at me. You were still so innocent. I knew you had yet to find your first boyfriend, but I had wondered if you had branched out and experimented with any of the guys or girls in your dorm or around campus. The sweet nativity in your smile, which formed adorable dimples on your cheeks, informed me in but a moment that you were still a virgin. There was no way you could maintain your sweet, bubbly composure as I stared devilishly into your eyes otherwise. You giggled, completely ignorant of how much I was going to twist your reality in the coming weeks.

Some time passed without us really interacting. I started watching TV, and you joined after setting your book down when you finished the chapter you were on. I don’t even remember what we were watching. My mind and eyes kept wandering to your pale bare legs and feet which stretched out across the couch. Your blue nail polish was starting to chip, but that in itself was attractive. It has a very homely feel to it. You did not have to impress me, your brother. You could let yourself be simple here, who you really were. Without the need to get dolled up, your auburn, strawberry blond hair could be put in a messy bun on the top of your head. You were beautiful in your pure, unedited form.

After the show ended, I remember realizing I needed to use the bathroom. I was too preoccupied with you to notice that all that water I had been drinking anxiously while trying to keep busy while our parents agonizingly double-then-triple checked that they had everything was suddenly pooling in my bladder. I then realized I had a problem. My rigid cock would clearly be visible in my pajamas, and I would have to walk right in front of you to get to the bathroom. I sat there, heart thumping in my chest, feeling the color fade from my face, paralyzed by the fright of my intentions being exposed then and there. The clock ticked, and my cock pulsed in rhythm.

Then, something arose in my stomach. I don’t know what it was, but suddenly I felt confident. I did not care if you saw my raging erection. In fact, I wanted you to see it. My hands tingled as my blood pressure spiked, yet I stood without fear and marched with devious conviction in front of you. I have no idea if you saw my bulge, but when I looked down after rounding the corner, I imagine you would have to be blind to not see my penis poking almost horizontally against my plaid pj’s.

You never mentioned anything or gave any indication you noticed. Life went on normally for the next few hours. We both hung out in our respective rooms for the time being. I fought with increasing desperation to not drop my pants and beat my meat violently, loudly, with the intention of having you hear me. This had to be a more subtle approach. I would have to force the subject subtly. But even so, I was not just going to passively let this opportunity slip through my fingers. Whether you wanted to or not, you were at least going to see my exposed cock in one capacity or another.

Around five, you started cooking dinner. Hearing you from my room, I followed you into the kitchen as you were gathering ingredients. Rounding the corner, the first thing I saw was your tiny ass stretching your tinier yellow booty shorts as you bent over at the lazy susan. I said nothing and simply stared, startled and aroused. You caught me as you noticed my presence. I don’t think the thought of your brother perving on you even crossed your mind at that point. You just smiled, and nodded when I asked if I could help, trying to mask how my eyes had locked onto your perfect curves.

“You never help with dinner! What’s gotten into you?” you asked, bring an armful of ingredients to the counter.

Again I shrugged. “I just wanted to help out. I have been getting better at cooking living out on my own.” I walked over to the vegetables by the cutting board. “I’ll chop these while you prepare the meat and stock.”

And we worked harmoniously for the next half an hour. We chit-chatted, but nothing more than empty small talk. All the while, I dreamed of living like this every day. I knew we were meant to be together. This was what life was meant to be: brother and sister coming together as one. If that was not God’s plan, then there was no point to life at all.

As more insidious thoughts crept into my mind, an idea formed. I turned my head ever so slightly, wary you might catch me looking at your behind again. Where you were standing, between the side counter and the kitchen island, there was barely any room to squeeze by. I dwelled on it for a second, but then I acted. I set my knife down, then walked swiftly to exit the kitchen. As I passed behind you, my hand deftly brushed against your petite backside. I had intended to have my fingers lightly linger against the fabric of your shorts, but I miscalculated, and accidentally pressed my hand into the crack of your ass. It felt like heaven, soft and supple, but I could not enjoy it for more than a moment.

I immediately jumped back, probably more shocked than you were. I apologized, and you told me not to worry. You smiled again, betraying your innocence in spades. You had no idea what monstrous things I would do to you then and there if there were no consequences for my actions. If I gave into these devilish delights, I would bend you over the stove in a heartbeat. Shorts torn off, you would be helpless to take my giant cock, and I would ravage you until you were a limp ragdoll. And that would just be the beginning of me decimating you. After flinging you across the kitchen every which way, I would throw you across the house and destroy your holes in every nook and cranny, and every position I could bend you.

But that was still a fantasy. I had much work to do to make it a reality. Or maybe not. I was fully erect again by the time I reached the bathroom, where I hung out in a daze, slowly touching myself while the feeling of your tender backside was still fresh in my memory. Even though I touched you for a fraction of a second, I could tell you were not wearing any underwear. Or, if you were, you were wearing such a skimpy thong that it could hide while I my fingers plundered the still-pure crack of your nubile ass.