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#03 Timmy
Touching My Sister
Monday
I’ll give you a little bit of time to appreciate me.
That’s what Diana had said before closing her door on me last night, and that was the first thought that went through my mind this morning. What had she meant by that? I thought about her words all day without reaching a rational conclusion.
School had started. I was a senior. Diana was a senior and Abbey was a Junior. Unlike like Diana and me, Abbey didn’t have any free periods. So, it’s back to the same old routine at my house. School, pre-season wrestling workouts, homework, relax, rinse, and repeat.
Last night Diana told me to bring her the same water bottle today that she had refused the night before. The same fucking one–and you know what–I brought it to her. I put that water bottle downstairs on the bottom shelf in the back of the fridge, and I left it there so I could bring it to her tonight. What in the hell was wrong with me?
Diana could have taken it upstairs herself. Everyone was in the living room when Abbey went to bed before my mother went to the kitchen. Diana was on the couch, wearing those athletic leggings that were thicker than yoga pants, but not by much. They made the muscles of her thighs pop, and they were only long enough to cover her leg down to the middle of her calves. Up top, she wore an oversized sweater that she had been relaxing in all night.
“I’m going to my room,” Diana said as she got up from the couch and headed toward the stairs, ignoring the kitchen and her bottle of water.
It was nearing ten o’clock, so I rose and went to the fridge to grab the water. I told Mom that I was going to bed, and she hugged me goodnight, something she didn’t often do these days. Though, I have noticed that she’s more than likely to give me a hug or kiss on the cheek when her social life takes a downward turn, and lately, that could happen from one day to the next. Yeah, she was kind of dating again, but thank god she wasn’t bringing anyone home, yet.
I went upstairs and knocked on my older sister’s door. I didn’t knock hard. The idea of my mother or Abbey finding me knocking on my sister’s door made me uncomfortable. What would I tell them? That Diana had told me to bring her water, so I did because I’m a good brother? (I’d do that for Abbey, but I’d never do that for Diana.) So, no, I couldn’t tell them that. And I couldn’t tell them that Diana was acting strange lately, and I wanted to know why. And–maybe–I wanted to know what she had meant when she had said, “I’ll give you a chance to appreciate me for appreciating you.”
So, I waited outside of my sister’s room for a minute. Two minutes. I deepened my breathing, vocalizing my breath as it traveled through my nasal passage and out into the air. Three minutes? I squeezed the water bottle, the plastic crinkling, and I thought about taking the cap off and drinking the water myself. What would my sister say to that? A bead of sweat rolled down my right cheek. I looked down the hallway to my room several times. Fuck this, I thought, but I didn’t move.
Diana opened her door. She had changed into a white T-shirt and nothing else that I could see. It was a plain white T-shirt that hugged her CrossFit body like a second skin, making the bottom swells of her big breasts curve outward as it curved inward to hug her flat tummy. The shadows of her nipples darkened the cotton through her shirt, and they poked upward and outward like two whores in need of attention. The shirt dropped just below her crotch, and one little upward stretch would show off everything from her waistline down.
“Your water?” I told her, lifting my hand.
“Right on time,” she said, taking it.
Diana’s eyes made a slow tour of my body, taking in my gray shirt–tight at the shoulders and all the way down to my waist–and my basketball shorts. Her eyes spent more time below my waist than above.
“Mom said I should try to get along with you,” Diana said. “Do you like how I get along with you?”
Did she mean since she had started ordering me around? And why the fuck was I doing it?
“It’s better than fighting, I guess,” I said. “I like it.”
“You can hug me, then,” Diana said.
I stood staring at her. I could hug her? Why was she giving me permission to hug her? What had I been expecting from her tonight? My sister stood in her doorway and waited as if by letting me hug her; she was doing me a favor. My eyes roamed down her body, stopping on her chest and her thick, standing-at-attention, nipples. Fuck it. I stepped forward, put my arms around her body, and I hugged her.
Diana didn’t hug me back. My sister was only half a head shorter than me, and I had to bend my knees as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders because her arms hung at her sides. It was weird, I won’t lie, but after her breasts touched my chest and her nipples dug into my skin through my shirt as I pulled her against me, I forgot all about the weirdness.
After a second, I pulled triplet sister tighter against me, surprised by the warmth and firmness of her body as she molded to me. I stepped closer to my sister and pushed the entire length of my being against her. A quick thickening of my cock heated my cheeks. Diana just let me hold her. She just let me do it, even as her breasts squished against my hard chest. She didn’t hug me back, and she didn’t stiffen, but the longer I held her, the more it felt as though she were doing me a favor. I liked it, as much as I hated to admit it. I liked it a lot. I wanted more of these favors from her.
“Good night,” Diana said after a minute of this. She stepped back into her room and shut the door on me.
I went back to my room to watch porn and jerk off.
Tuesday
Abbey asked me if I thought Mom would let her have some friends over this Sunday when Mom was at brunch. I asked what kind of friends and she said, “My friends.”
I asked if one of her friends was a boy.
She said maybe.
I asked if this boy had said that she looked like a boy.
Abbey said, “Do you think Mom will fucking mind? Jesus!”
“You know the rules,” I said. “Diana, Mom, or I have to be here, and Diana goes to the beach on Sunday mornings. I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”
“Why does Mom treat me like a child?”
“Because your friends are destructive,” I said.
After some back and forth conversation, I agreed to be there for her on Sunday.
After dinner, Diana told me that her shoulder was sore, and then she asked me if I was any good at touching a girl’s body. I blushed but said that I was while trying to control the quickening of my pulse. She told me that she’d think about it. Think about what? Later, when I brought Diana her nightly water, she told me, “The next time I say that you can hug me, you better hug me right away. You’re not allowed to hesitate again. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said, and I said the word quickly and without hesitation.
Diana put her hand on my chest, her palm flat, and her fingers extended. Slowly, she closed her fingers across my chest, dragging her nails over my skin until she had curled her hand into a fist. A shiver ran through me as my shaft swelled. It hurt, but in the way a good stretching session hurts.
“You can rub my shoulders before school tomorrow,” Diana said, dropping her hand. “Be in my room at six tomorrow morning. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”
She closed her door, and I went to my room to watch “how-to” massage videos on YouTube.
Wednesday
I woke up before my alarm went off, and like always, I was hard below the waist, but not rock hard like I usually am. No, in my shorts was a solid piece of steel that someone had heated, hammered, and folded, then heated, hammered and folded a few hundred more times, then quenched in a magic oil that made my dick unbreakable. I had a samurai’s blade in my pants. I had half an hour before I had to be in my sister’s room. I pissed, which is never easy with a hard-on. I jerked off, enjoying the feel of my solid rod in my hands. The word “huge” barely described how big my cock looked this morning. I mediated, willing the son-of-a-bitch to go down, and it did so with only minutes to spare.
With my phone in hand, I waited in the darkness outside of my older sister’s room. My heartbeat steadily picked up speed as I waited for the digital clock to turn from 5:59 am to 6:00 am. The quietness outside of my sister’s doors gave me the chills. Every breath I took fought against the relentless pressure of the moment. My head darted to the left and right continuously, no matter how much I tried to stop myself. Mom would have left to work by now, and Abbey would be in bed until I woke her cute little butt for school–several times– and then finally dragged her out of bed–if I had to. The final minute passed, but that didn’t calm me for a second.
I took the doorknob in my hand and turned, knowing that Diana must have locked it because she wanted to play some sick joke on me. That would be just like her, but she hadn’t locked it, and it turned, and the latch clicked, and I pushed the fucking door open on soundless hinges. My heartbeat thumped harder against my breastbone, and my chest shrank, and breathing was like gulping in air while buried up to my neck in sand. Winning my first state wrestling championship had been easier than this.
Diana lay on her king-sized bed. She slept under several thin blankets without a comforter. Her room was the second largest in the house, and her bed sat under a long strand of paneled windows along the wall opposite the door. The open slats of her wooden blinds let in the faint rays of the coming dawn, giving the room a grayish-white color that made the everything visible.
“You’re on time,” Diana said. “Good boy. Come here.”
Her stupid words gave me chills, but I didn’t hesitate to climb onto her bed. Diana lay on her stomach, her silk and cotton blankets ran a straight line across her shoulders. She gave me no directions, so I rolled the blankets down and hoped this was what she wanted. My hard-on from earlier started to rise again, sensing that this moment called for a second round of jerking off. Maybe it did, but even though my cock flooded with blood until it hurt, I focused my attention on my sister.
I knelt by her left side, the side her eyes faced, meaning that if she glanced downward, she would see the tent that I had created in my basketball shorts. I didn’t care. I needed to massage her shoulders, so I rolled the blanket down her back with caution. I don’t know why I didn’t pull the blankets right off of her, but the need to do everything with deliberate care and clean precision seemed like something my sister would appreciate later.
Why was this bitch in my head? But she wasn’t a bitch, at least, not like before. She was–I don’t know what she was–but she wasn’t a bitch in the menacing way that she was before she had started telling me what to do without yelling at me.
I rolled the blanket down her back, expecting to see the strap of a wraparound bra since no straps hung over her shoulders, but I saw nothing. There was nothing. My older sister of about a minute was not wearing a bra. I rolled the blanket to the middle of her back, and her feline nakedness hypnotized me. I continued rolling the blanket downward, the rush of seeing her body without clothing sent tingles through my arms. The blanket reached her lower back, and still I saw no clothing. I went lower, fascinated by her nudity as I rolled the blanket beyond the downward slope of her spine then upward, past her hips, unveiling the uppermost nakedness of the valley between her cheeks. The start of her crack.
God, but my sister was in great shape. CrossFit shape. Diana didn’t have time for organized sports, but she did use her time to keep her ass tight.
“Stop,” Diana said in a level voice. “I didn’t say you could do that”–and then her words hung in the distance between us–“yet.”
Yet? My balls tightened. What in the hell did yet mean? I pressed my lips together as a teardrop of pre-cum slid through my shaft and dripped from the tip of my cock, making me shake.
Even as I was pre-coming, my hands moved to my sister’s shoulders. I asked her which shoulder was sore, and she told me, “Figure out, or if you can’t, massage both of them.”
Fuck yeah I was going to have to massage both of her shoulders.
Her skin warmed my hands. She was hot to the touch, and that sent a tremor through my arms that turned my muscles to jelly. Diana remained quiet at first, and then she uttered a soft moan here and a little groan there. Here a moan, there a groan, everywhere a fucking sound that made my shaft swell and my balls tingle.
The sides of my sister’s big breasts flattened against her mattress and bulged sideways beneath her body. I came a little at the sight of her tits. This was the first time I had ever touched a girl like this, and the horrible smallness of fear hit me. (Abbey wasn’t the only person Mom treated like a child when it came to dating.) Anyway, it was the fear that I would come, and my sister would know that touching her had made me blow my load. Fear that she’d never let me do this again. Fear that it had to end without it happening again in the following days.
“Mm,” Diana moaned as I pressed my fingers into her muscles. She had closed her eyes. “You’re doing good, little brother.” She moaned again. Her noises sounded real but exaggerated. For me? “You only have permission to–ooh–massage my shoulders today. You’re not allowed to go lower. Remember that.”
I dug my fingers into her shoulders and ground my thumbs across her flesh, soothing her muscles and tendons and sweeping knots away with an intense, but non-painful pressure. I wanted to move my hands lower. I wanted to inch my fingertips toward the sides of my sister’s tits, where I could see their undersides bulging against the mattress. I wanted to push her blankets lower and find out if she really was naked down to her feet. Sometimes her bikini panties had low-riding waistbands, which let everyone know she was smooth between her coltish thighs, so why not her panties? But I knew she was naked, she had to be, but I wanted to see it. I wanted to–
“I need to shower,” Diana said, stopping my massaging. “I want cereal for breakfast.” And she dismissed me before I could even get going. I slid off the bed with my back to her to hide my erection.
By the time Diana came downstairs, I had everything ready. I poured her milk as soon as she sat in her chair. Diana smiled. Abbey threw me a bug-eyed stare. We ate. Diana ignored me. When we left for school, Diana held me back at the front door to our house as Abbey made her way to our sister’s car. My sister slapped my right hand, not hard, and she said, “The next time I invite you into my room, you had better lock the door behind you, understand?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
Diana ignored me for the rest of the day. When I brought her water at the end of the night, she didn’t let me hug her. I think it was was my punishment for not locking her door. It had to be, and she didn’t invite me into her room the next morning. More punishment?
Maybe this was her bitchy behavior coming back, but it was her room right, so her rules, right? Fuck me, but what am I trying to rationalize here?
And why did it feel like she was punishing me?
Thursday
Diana ignored me today. Oh, I hated it. I hated it so fucking much. In the morning, I was staring at her, waiting for her acknowledgment, but she gave me nothing. Not a damn thing. At home, nothing again. I was pissed. I was furious. What had I done wrong? I don’t know, but I’d make it up to her somehow.
Abbey wanted to continue taking wrestling lessons from me. Fuck it. I taught her, and I worked her little ass hard. Offseason wrestling was all about learning, fundamentals, and staying in shape. It’s our classroom before the action. It’s the forging before the quenching. It’s–it’s a bunch of these fucking sayings. But working my little sister wasn’t enough to get rid of the rage burning inside of me because Diana wouldn’t pay attention to me.
Sweat poured off Abbey by the time we had finished. She was into it. She did everything I said, even the conditioning, though that was for me. When we finished, she gave me a sweaty hug and thanked me. I messed her pixie hair up and then I threw her into our pool.
I brought Diana her water at ten sharp and waited at her door until she answered it. She took it and told me to leave her a bottle of water on her nightstand as soon as I returned home from school tomorrow. She said, “I know you were upset that I didn’t pay attention to you, but because you behaved yourself despite being angry, from now on, the only time you need to wait outside my door is when specifically tell you to wait. Understand?”
Fuck no, but I said, “Yes,” anyway.
Friday
“I’m going out tonight,” Diana told me at breakfast–which I had ready for her even though she hadn’t told me to make her breakfast. “I won’t be back until Sunday morning.”
“Where are you going?” I asked without thinking.
Diana looked at me, and she tilted her head as if examining me. She said, “Be a good boy, and I’ll tell you when I get home.”
At school, and after a ride where I had done my best to hide my anger–failing miserably–and after Diana had parked her car and Abbey had left us, Diana turned to me, looked me in the eyes and took my hands in hers. After a deep sigh, she said, “These are good hands, little brother. I don’t need another pair touching me. Okay? Now get the fuck out of my car.”
Holy shit.
I got out of her car, and I decided that I needed to do something nice for her to make up for making her mad. Where was my maturity? I had sat in her car and sulked, pissing her off. That was no good, so I cleaned her room later that night while she was gone. I even changed her sheets. What the fuck was wrong with me? And what the fuck was wrong with my sister? And why didn’t I care anymore that she was my sister? When did that happen? I can’t say because I don’t know. It just happened.
With Diana gone and my mother out with an upswing in her social life–from one day to the next–I spent a lot of time wrestling with Abbey. That kid can roll, her wiry strength was crazy. We watched a few movies afterward, and we fell asleep on the couch together. She asked me some questions about boys, but nothing too direct. I think she was embarrassed. Mom didn’t come home that night, and when I awoke sometime after two in the morning, I carried Abbey upstairs and dumped her on her bed, then I went to my room to finish the night.
Saturday
Abbey freaked the hell out of me today. After some morning wrestling, she asked me if men liked little tits, specifically, would they ever like her little tits. She was shy about boys around me, but she wasn’t shy about her tits. Go figure.
“Why the hell are you asking me that?” I asked.
“Because we’re bros,” Abbey said.
“You know, a girl’s breasts can grow into her early twenties.”
Abbey gave me a flat stare with a head tilt.
“You know, it’s not the tits that men are attracted to,” I said quickly. “It’s the girl. If a man likes the girl, he’ll like her tits.” I smiled, then a thought hit me because Abbey’s flat stare hadn’t changed a bit. “Not a girl’s tits. A woman’s tits. You don’t have a girl’s tits. You have woman’s tits.”
Abbey head shake and sigh said she wasn’t happy with my answer, but on the bright side, maybe her tits would grow a little in the next two years. I need to stop thinking about my sister’s tits. Man, but I wished Abbey had been born a boy. Right after that thought hit me, I compared Abbey to Diana, thinking that a second sister wasn’t so bad. I won’t lie, the twisted reasons behind that comparison sent me off to the shower to get my mind clean.
A few friends called me later that night and asked why I was spending all of my time indoors. That was a good question. Diana wasn’t home, so why was I at home? I didn’t go out. I’m turning into a pussy–was what I would have said if I weren’t such a badass wrestler. Only Diana’s ex, Roy, another senior, was better than me last year, but he’s a weight class above me. It’s close between us, almost too close, and he’s getting a full ride to Northwestern while I’m considering Stanford’s offer. I’m not only brawn; I’ve got the brains too, except when Diana opens her fucking mouth.
Mom came home tipsy that night, and a bit pissed off.
“Good night?” I asked. It was late, I was wearing only my tight, cotton boxer-briefs, and I was in the kitchen getting a bottle of water when she had come through the front door.
No, you little fucker, was the look she gave me, but then her expression softened and she smiled at me.
“Wrestling is working out for you,” Mom said, glassy-eyed. She stood straighter and smiled strangely at me, the new posture pushing her big breasts against the low-cut neckline of her cocktail dress. Yoga was working out for her.
“It keeps me in shape,” I said.
Mom told me that she could tell. Maybe she was more than a little tipsy. A lot fucking more. She walked up to me and told me that I shouldn’t walk around the house without a shirt or proper shorts. When I asked why, she said, “You’ll distract your sister’s friends.” She didn’t say which sister, nor did she say which friends, but it didn’t matter. Mom’s body swayed as she left the kitchen.
“Do you need me to help you to your bed?” I asked.
Mom stopped and shook her head, mumbling something like, “That would be the day,” without turning around. Then she mentioned how much she looked forward to wrestling season, then she laughed, then she mentioned how all of the mothers were looking forward to wrestling season. She mentioned: “Mothers always compare their sons to each other’s, but they know mine is the best.”
“Second best,” I said. “Roy has the edge, but I’m close. I can feel it. I’m getting better, but he’s staying the same.”
Mom wasn’t paying attention to my words. She turned to look at me. Her eyes moved up and down my body before she said, “Your the best for what we mothers discuss.” How drunk was she? “Your father was a wrestler, but you know that. Your leotard fits you better than it did him.”
“Singlet,” I said. Fucking hell. “I wear a singlet, not a leotard.”
“Don’t grow up to be your father,” Mom said. Her eyes moved over me again. “Well, not completely like him. He was useful for some things.”
She left the kitchen and turned around again right before rounding the corner. She told me to hug her, so I did, and she mumbled something about me being bigger than my father. Stronger. I’m not going to lie: this freaked me out a little bit. It gave me the chills, but whether they were the good kind or the bad kind, I don’t know. That night I jerked off to short-haired blonde MILF porn, but I’m a teenager, so all porn stars are MILFs, right?
Sunday: Day into Night
Diana returned home in the late afternoon. I was in the pool with Abbey at the time. Her friends had not come over. Mom had not gone to brunch, and Abbey didn’t want her friends over when Mom was around. What was that girl up to? It had to do with boys, I’m not stupid, and Mom watches Abbey through the crosshairs of a scope. She watches Diana as well, but Abbey had been with our father for the first five years of her life, so I wondered if that made Abbey seem younger in Mom’s eyes. It did in mine. I knew it did in Diana’s, too.
Anyway, Diana found us outside when got home. She mentioned Abbey’s swimsuit. My little sister was wearing two-piece instead of her usual one-piece, but there was nothing sexy about it. Abbey said she wanted some bikinis like the ones Diana wore–fucking G-strings that gave Mom a heart attack whenever she saw them–which made Diana laugh, but she promised our little sister to buy some for her one day. They sounded like they were being sarcastic to each other, but we’re triplets, so I heard the truth in their words.
After some friendly talk with Abbey, Diana said to me, “Eleven o’clock,” before going back into the house.
“What does that mean?” Abbey asked. “Are you guys going out tonight? Can I come?”
I sent a wave of water into my little sister’s elfish face, and then I swam to the deep end of the pool because I had to conceal half a hard-on, and I didn’t need Abbey seeing that, or worse, feeling it.
The sun couldn’t go down fast enough for me that day, and the night couldn’t pass quickly enough. Every minute sent an anxious pulse through my body. I wanted to fucking go, but there was nowhere to go. I sat in my room with my energy seeping from my body in little waves of heat, trying to push Time forward by the sheer force of my will, but that’s like digging your heels into the ground and trying to push over the Incredible Hulk.
Every tick of my mental clock bore a hole into my brain that tensed my muscles. I jerked off twice before eleven struck. Mom stopped by my room, apologizing for being drunk last night. She knocked on my door while I was in mid-stroke and told me to let her in. I had to push my cock straight up against my stomach and cinch the ties on my basketball shorts to keep the beast in place. Even then, I walked with a forward hunch to my shoulders so that my shirt would hang away from my body as much as possible. Mom gave me the most awkward hug in the world after her apology, and she kissed me on my cheek. I had to move my head while shifting my crotch away from her stomach, and she ended up kissing me on about a quarter of my lips.
“Oops,” Mom said. I caught the faintest whiff of wine on her breath. “Don’t tell anyone I was your first kiss.” She laughed and went to her room. If not for my hard-on making the situation awkward, Mom’s comment may have.
Oh, and my mother wasn’t my first kiss.
Sunday: Night
I stood at my sister’s door five minutes before eleven. When the time came, I entered her room and locked her door seconds past the hour. Diana watched me lock her door. She didn’t say anything, but she did nod, and then she went back to reading her magazine. She lay on her bed as I stood there watching her, unsure of what she wanted me to do next.
A black mini-sleep shirt covered her upper body, a pajama top of black satin with white trim, but of a size too small. I’d never seen a shirt like that before. It had a low slicing collar with only two buttons fastened, one even with her nipples and one even with the bottom swell of her breasts. The tan roundness of her cleavage was open to my eyes. The tails hung even with her ribs, flaring outward and away so that I could see her entire abdomen. Her black satin boyshorts had white trim around its edges, and they were small, but loose-fitting so that if she sat with her legs crossed, I’d probably be able to see right up to the V of her panties.
As I said, Diana lay in the center of her bed, reading a magazine. She read with her body outstretched and her legs together with her ankles crossed. I waited about five minutes for her to finish reading whatever article it was that kept her eyes tick-tocking across the page. A splash of relief crawled over my skin when she looked up at me, calming my twitching muscles.
“Grab my lotion,” Diana said. “You cleaned my room. I’m going to thank you by letting you put lotion on my legs before I go to bed.” She looked down at her magazine. “And do them slowly. Make sure to really get that lotion into my skin.”
I didn’t bother checking what kind of lotion my sister used, but I grabbed the bottle on her vanity desk and went to her bed. She lay in the center near the headboard, against her pillows, so I had to crawl onto her bed. She opened her legs, and I knelt between them. Her shorts tightened beneath her thighs, pressing the satin against her skin so that I couldn’t see up her leg holes. Still, her small, thin shorts pressed right against the inverted pyramid between her thighs, and there was I couldn’t tell if my sister was wearing panties by the way her meaty cameltoe swelled against her boyshorts.
I didn’t hesitate. I wanted to touch her skin–her body–again. As I squeezed the lotion into my hands, a blur of thoughts cycled through my head so fast that only my unconscious mind understood them.
This was wrong.
This was weird.
This wasn’t how brothers and sisters interacted.
Was my sister molesting me? Hashtag Me-Fucking-Too? How fucking stupid! I was a eighteen-year-old man with a man’s body and a man’s muscles and a man’s strength, but with the intense sexual drive of a teenager. Diana couldn’t molest me even if she tried, but she could torture the hell out of me–but she wasn’t making me do anything I didn’t want to do, was she? Other thoughts battered my brain, but fuck those thoughts. I was all about sliding my hands over my sister’s feet and then higher.
Diana continued to read her magazine, but I heard the soft flutter of the pages as she lowered the upper edge to look at me. I ran my fingers over her feet, and her calves tensed. I don’t know why, but I held her left foot in my hand and feathered the sole of her foot with my free fingertips. Diana’s breath caught, and when I looked up, she had closed her eyes, and there was an intense expression masking her face.
Sensitive feet, I thought, so I feathered the sole of her other foot the same way. My sister started to pull away from me, but I locked my fingers around her ankle and kept her there. I didn’t look up, but her eyes bore into me. I brushed the sole of her right foot several times, not tickling her, barely whispering my skin against hers. Diana shivered and tried to pull her foot away again, but I didn’t let her. She didn’t get mad. Diana’s breathing had changed to quiet pants by the time I had finished.
I worked each of her calves slowly, as she had told me to do. I pushed my fingertips into her muscles, creating white comet trails across her skin, my fingers dimpling her flesh as I stroked her limbs. Diana moaned softly–for me? Maybe, I don’t know, but when a series of hungry sounds left her mouth, I pushed harder, and she moaned deeper. She liked it. Maybe she moaned for both of us.
My rock-hard cock was unmistakable through my shorts when I reached my sister’s thighs. Her amazing fucking thighs, strong and coltish, thickest with muscle at mid-thigh and hamstring, and then tapering up to her hip and down to her knees. I stayed away from my sister’s inner thigh, but she had said to lotion her legs, and that meant all of her legs, didn’t it?
By now, Diana had set her magazine down. She lay on her pillows with her eyes closed and her hands near her sides. Her fingertips curled over the bed, open–closed–open–closed, digging furrows into her black sheets. Her breath shook. She looked so fucking sensual as she absorbed my touch that I wanted to come.
“My thighs,” Diana whispered, her words trembling as they left her lips. “Make sure you rub lotion into them everywhere.”
I had done all but the insides of her legs, where her skin was softest. At her knees, I curved my hands downward, fingers pointed straight toward her soft center, my thumbs lying on the curve of her inner thighs toward the back of her thighs. I pushed upward.
My world spun, and my heart thundered. I could hear my breathing amplify within my head. Could my sister hear it? I pushed my fingers up and over the softer inner flesh of her thighs. God, she was so soft and hot down there. At mid-thigh, Diana’s breath caught. I raised my eyes, transfixed by the rolling of her stomach and the slow rise and fall of her breasts. The tightness of my sister’s face caused my cock to jump, and her high cheeks appeared more defined than usual as the tendons of her neck strained outward. The breath of a blush frosted her skin. What I realized left my mouth dry. I had some control over my sister, didn’t I?
The higher my fingers went, the faster my sister panted. Her hands moved to the sides of her thighs and then upward. Diana slipped her fingers beneath the leg holes of her shorts and pulled, not stopping until she had reached her hips, turning her shorts into a pair of panties. She had revealed the entire side of her leg to me, as well as a quarter of her ass cheeks, and the center of her crotch bulged outward in a vision of three-dimensional sex.
Fuck me.
My fingers continued moving higher, slowly, and I added pressure to their movements that opened my sister’s thighs wider. The higher I went, the narrower the gap between her legs became, and for a moment–only for a moment–I nearly hesitated. But Diana doesn’t like it when I hesitate, so I moved up her inner thighs until my fingers touched the leg holes of her shorts that cut upward at sharp angles from her perineum to her hip bones.
Diana shivered.
I rotated my fingers so that the long curve of skin extending from my thumbs to my forefingers lay against the swell of my sister’s inner thighs. I moved higher again, pushing the lotion on the underside of my hands into my sister’s flesh. Her breathing deepened. My thumbs and forefingers created a bracket against the edges of her shorts, and my thumbs reached so low that I touched the inner swells of her bare ass cheeks where they joined the backs of her thighs.
I held her, not knowing what to do next. Her shorts had gathered tightly around the curve of her mound and her pussy meat swelled against the satin shield digging into her soft cleft. Fuck me; I was in Heaven.
Diana licked her lips. She moved her hips several times, up and down in a wave-like motion that slid her flesh against my fingers. I wanted to do more, and finally, god it took so fucking long to move my hands, I rotated my thumbs upward. The tips pushed under the leg holes of her shorts right below her perineum, and I felt nothing but hot, wet flesh against my skin. The entire length of my dick jerked and a wad of pre-cum so thick it may have have been cum shot through my shaft and into my shorts.
I moaned.
My sister smiled.
The warmth between her legs dampened my hands from my fingertips to the heels of my palms. I didn’t want this to end.
I knew I was brushing the barest edges of my sister’s outer labia as I feathered my thumbs across the grooves that swept inward from her inner thighs to her pubis, and then I was moving away from the heat between her legs. I pushed harder into her soft skin, making my sister utter a deep moan, and when I pulled my fingers away from her pussy, I made sure to try and pull her outer lips away from each other. I tried to open her cherry-vanilla crease. She moaned again when I finally felt the soft flesh between her legs snap away from my thumbs. Before I could repeat my actions, my sister stopped me by taking my hands in hers and holding them tight.
“You did a good thing when you cleaned my room,” Diana whispered, her voice shaky and her cheeks a wonderful deep pink. “You can go back to your room now and think about my legs, but only once tonight, understand?” She licked her lips quickly. “Only once, Tim.”
I nodded my head. I understood my sister completely.
“Did you enjoy that?” Diana asked, smiling, but then her smile faded away and her eyes burned into mine. “Do you enjoy pushing your thumbs against the edges of pussy?”
Fuck me.
“Your sister’s pussy?”
Fuck me twice.
Had my sister actually ask me that question, or had I gone insane?
I nodded my head.
“I’m not wearing panties right now,” Diana whispered, “because they’re dirty.” She squeezed my hands. “Not all of my panties are dirty, just the ones I was wearing before you knocked on my door. I accidentally soaked them in cream. And since the ones I had chosen for you were dirty, I decided to take them off before you got here.”
I almost filled my shorts with cum.
“I want you to come to my room every Friday and collect my dirty panties. I want you to wash them for me.” Diana held my gaze as she talked, nodding the entire time. I found myself nodding with her. “I’ll wash the rest of my clothes, but I want you, and only you, to wash my dirty panties. Understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good,” Diana said. “Now go to your room and think about my legs, but only once.”
Fuck me, but I did what she told me to do and nothing else.
I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
Timmy out.
____________________
Next time on the Anderson Family Journals, “A Surprise for Timmy.”
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