MY SISTER, MY SLUT

The first thing I should tell you about my sister is that she is the most stunningly beautiful woman I have ever seen. It's an important point - things probably wouldn't have worked out as they did if she weren't possessed of a beauty that transcended mere hotness. Jennifer was Venus incarnate. I was no bronzed Adonis. When the gods of genetics blessed my family, they spent their genius upon her and I was bereft. Not to say I'm ugly, merely average. The kind of man whose appearance is defined more by clothing than inherent qualities. I dressed well, exercised often and I could get girls, but none as beautiful as my sister.

I suppose I should tell you my story.

Two or three years ago, when my sister began going on dates, I felt that none of her boyfriends were worthy of her. She must have felt the same, because none stuck around for more than a month or two. Then she finished school and took a gap year with her girlfriends to travel in Europe and do volunteer work in South East Asia. I finished my own high school studies but didn't want to take a gap year, so it worked out that we'd be starting at university in the same year. My interest, odd though it may sound, was naval architecture. Jen wanted to study marketing. Due to the obscurity of my interest only a couple of universities in the country offered it, and neither in our home town. Returned from months overseas, and probably having gained a taste for freedom, Jen wasn't pleased that I'd be moving out, leaving her to live at home with Mum and Dad and study at the local uni, so she said that move town with me to study. I think our parents were relieved that we could be housemates interstate and offered to help pay our rent if we lived together, so it was settled.

It was the long holiday after finishing my final school exams and before moving. I was enjoying myself reading, playing video games, watching entire seasons of TV shows in a single day and lifting weights at the local gym when I felt like it. Jen spent a lot of time out with friends. Our parents were fairly lax about that, to their credit, and didn't impose strict curfews, so it wasn't uncommon that Jen would return late. I'd just finished watching a TV show on my computer when I heard hushed voices downstairs and realised that Jen must have brought a boy home with her. Our parents had work early and were asleep downstairs, and I guess she assumed I would be as well. My sister's room was next to mine, upstairs. I turned off my computer and lay in bed, but I had a strange compulsion to stave off sleep and instead press my ear to the wall, whereupon I could hear the progression of Jen's evening with her new boyfriend to its logical conclusion. The sounds excited me immensely, as did the very perversion of my listening to them: despite the wall between us I could hear the gentle slapping together of bare flesh, my sister's soft moaning and the quickening, low grunting of the man. This went on for a few minutes until there was a muted squeal, whispered voices and then silence. I noticed my own breath had shortened and that I'd subconsciously been rubbing my fully erect cock beneath the sheets. Silence cooled my arousal though and, deciding that it would be weird to jerk myself to a climax while thinking of my own sister in the next room, I focussed instead on sleep.

I woke the following morning with a raging hard on but fortunately it had subsided by the time I entered the kitchen. To my surprise Jen was already there, dressed as usual in tight jeans and a semi see-through blouse, drinking a coffee. There was no sign of her evening's company; I assumed he'd managed to sneak out earlier. I doubted she'd mention him, so I put on some toast and sat down opposite her, noticing that she wasn't wearing a bra or make up - unusual for her. I could see the outline of her full c-cup breasts and nipples easily enough, which prompted a slight twitch down below, but didn't let my eyes linger there. Jen idly brushed aside some of her luxurious golden locks from her eyes.

"You're up late," she commented.

"You're up early," I countered.

It was 9am, so in truth we were both up fairly early, given that I think we would have got to sleep after 2am.

"Doing anything today?"

Well, damn, is she making a comment about my holiday indolence? Isn't a man allowed a couple of weeks, or months, to relax after finishing school?

"No, probably not much. I'll be going gyming later if you want to come with?"

Despite her perennial radiance, I could see she did look a little tired and somewhat hung-over, so her response in the negative was unsurprising. The toast popped and I ate while Jen downed her coffee and slinked off upstairs. Finished, I returned to my room only to be called back downstairs a couple of minutes later.

"Alex, your washing is in the machine. Take it out!" Jen yelled from the laundry.

Shit, I'd completely forgotten about my washing from yesterday. Jen had gone into the bathroom to clean her teeth when I went to retrieve my clothes, which were at this stage well crushed by my forgetfulness - alas, more ironing for me. Her pile of clothes sat waiting by the machine. Just as I was about to leave, something caught my eye: her black lacy panties, no doubt from the previous day. I could see distinctive white staining on the inside of them, which left little to wonder about its nature, but was quite surprising for its implications. That was her boyfriend's cum. She'd let him cum in her. The thought appeared in my mind, catching me woefully off guard. I'd had sex before, but always with a condom. It almost hadn't even occurred to me that young people wouldn't use condoms, let alone my sister, who was intelligent and responsible, given the messages drilled in during sex-ed. Yet there could be no denying it: that was male ejaculate, probably mixed in with her own cream. Ugh! Did I just think about my sister's love juices? Christ, I needed to leave the laundry and do something else.

Once my washing was out I left for the gym. Six sets of five bench presses had the desired effect and by the time I'd finished squats and hyperextensions I'd all but forgotten. Yet after dinner, in the silent, sombre seclusion of my room, my thoughts returned to the laundry discovery of that morning. There was something erotic, albeit perverse, thinking about the young goddess, my sister, wearing lacy panties like a Victoria Secret model. In an instant I could see her standing before me, lingerie-clad, long stockinged legs drawing my eyes to her small, shapely butt, her full, high breasts filling her bra. The image disappeared.

I'd of course noticed the attention she received from members of my sex for the past three or four years, ever since she'd developed into the lean but shapely figure of today. Of course she's having sex, I told myself. Why shouldn't she? I guess having her out of the house for several months and I'd forgotten some things about having a sister. Long showers that left the bathroom with a strong floral bouquet. More frequent washing of clothes. The fact that she went out socialising often. Considering this, I realised that I was a bit jealous of her. She was, in nearly every way, my superior. I prided myself for being an intellectual type, but she was very clever too. Mine was a brooding, introverted character: deep interest in the esoteric, of history, and of how things work. My idealised self was a Cyrus Harding a la Verne. Jen had always been different in that respect, far more outgoing and extroverted.

My thoughts, having wandered far from their original prompt of laundry discoveries, were disrupted by the buzzing of my phone: message from Tom, a school friend, telling me to go out drinking with the guys. Friday night, may as well, I thought.

The usual haunt, such as it could be for a group of 18 year olds, was the 'Pike and Shot', an English-themed pub popular with students. The beer was cheap and free-flowing, quenching our thirst in our dim-lit corner, yet leaving us hungering for female company. On this front I recognised the inadequacy of our choice of establishment, for the Pike and Shot was no nightclub and better suited to conversation of politics or philosophy over a pint with friends than the exercise of charm vis-à-vis the opposite sex. Personally I was not fond of nightclubs so this was not a problem, yet I had broken things off with my girlfriend a couple of months ago and my friends - several more successful than I in these endeavours - thought this should be rectified.

"You should get back with Alice," Tom suggested.

I had parted Alice on fairly good terms, so this was possible, but I hadn't seen her recently.

"I think he missed that chance; she's with John Douvardis now," commented Sam.

I was disappointed to learn this. I would have liked some fun over the holidays and Alice was fun, even if she had the sex-drive of a neutered kitten. I'd got into her panties once, and while we both enjoyed it, it apparently never occurred to her that we might do it again. I wondered briefly if Douvardis would have better luck, suspected not, and then formulated another plan.

"Let's go clubbing," I proposed.

This was an atypical suggestion from me, but we all agreed and went in search of young cunny. I admit it was rather uncouth of us to view relationship goals in those terms, but at least I was honest with my intentions.

Not that it mattered greatly, for my advances had the success of Ferdinand Foch in Germany - which is to say, minimal. Tom had gone off with a pretty Asian girl at some point so by about 1am I was sipping my umpteenth beer with Sam at our third club for the night.

"I might call it quits. I'm not really in my element here," I semi-shouted at Sam.

"What? Hey, look at that girl over there! Damn, she's a hotty," he replied, not-so-subtly gesturing across the bar.

I followed his gaze. Her back was turned to us, so I could only see her blond hair and shapely figure in a cute backless top. I did a low whistle at seeing her legs, bare under a short skirt.

"Indeed, that she is."

Then she turned, I recognised my sister and felt completely idiotic for not realising sooner, no doubt owing to my inebriated state and the disorientating setting.

"I should talk to her, shouldn't I?" Sam said.

"You've got a snowflake in hell, mate."

I shook my head. It was poor form to see your own sister out at this hour, sort of like seeing a teacher on the weekend. I should return home, I decided. Jen hadn't seen me; she was more interested in the guy next to her. He looked of average height, maybe 5'10 - several inches shorter than my 6'3 - and was very slim. He looks like a pretentious wanker, I decided, based on his skinny jeans, shirtsleeves partly unbuttoned and hipster-moustache. I hoped that wasn't her new boyfriend.

"I'm going."

Sam now had a vodka shot before him, as if seeking Dutch courage before going across to assured failure. He didn't hear me, so I patted him on the back and left. On the bus home I realised he may have taken that as encouragement.

*

The weekend passed uneventfully. A cracking headache on Saturday reminded me of why I don't like clubbing. A growing sense of boredom on Sunday reminded me of why I liked being with Alice. My parents reminded me of my chores.

In this context it was easy to contemplate the existential. Why had my sister been blessed and not I? The belle of my generation: beside her I was mediocrity itself. Crueller still that my peers like Mr Moustache should partake of this beauty while I sit on the sidelines, forced to observe. Based on Jen's early morning return home on Saturday and Monday, I could only imagine where and how she'd spent her nights.

The release of school grades on Tuesday was preceded with great apprehension and nervous energy. My phone buzzed a message at 6.20am, Tom asking how I'd gone. Despite their importance, I hadn't even considered waking at 6am, the ungodly hour of their announcement, to check them. I'd truly smashed them, becoming topping my school in the process. I remembered Jen's pleasure at her results the previous year and how I'd longed to experience that myself. Now I was exultant. Trepidation that I had tried to escape from through the oblivion of video games vanished. Breakfast went down well, as did the evident pride of my parents. When I told my sister she uncharacteristically kissed me on the cheek, her breasts briefly squeezing against my chest. Yes, it was a good day. Privately I laughed at my recent sense of inadequacy and even jealousy, in hindsight easily identifying the cause.

That evening my father had a beer with me.

"Your mother and I are very proud of you, son. We thought that you'd do well, but this really is brilliant."

I nodded, "My grades guarantee me a scholarship, which will help with living expenses."

"Our offer still stands to help pay rent for you and your sister if you want to share an apartment. I think it would be a good idea, at least for the first year in a new city."

"Thank you, Dad. It's quite exciting, really."

I treated myself to a film and a nice long sleep. My dreams were pleasant. Alice and I were in her bed, her arms around me, cuddling me into her bosom. My manhood, pressed hard against her, my fingers slipping under her panties, sliding over her smooth mound and down to her moist slit, rubbing, caressing, entering. Moving over her, her face flushed with sex. Thrusting, plundering her tight, wet tunnel and then pumping my seed into her, my white cum oozing betwixt her engorged lips, onto her black panties, the mark of my virility and proof of my triumph.

I woke the following morning, aware of the stickiness in my boxer shorts, the dreamy images slipping from my mind like sand through fingers. I reproached myself for having a wet dream as if a pubescent boy. Obviously I needed to get laid.

The euphoria of my academic success subsided over the next few days and boredom returned. On Friday I was home alone, my parents at work and my sister playing tennis with friends. I was walking around the house, looking for something with which to occupy myself, when I came to the laundry. There weren't any clothes there. By impulse I ran up the stairs to Jen's room to snoop. I couldn't even distinctly say what I was looking for, or what I expected to find, but I had a vague sense of it being the wrong thing to do. Lacking any alternatives and being generally frustrated, I entered. Jen's room was neater than mine; she even made her bed before leaving. It occurred to me that if we were to be housemates, she might expect me to do more cleaning. I looked around, my eyes resting on her laundry pile. I approached it, almost giddy, finding pairs of my sister's knickers awaiting me. I gingerly picked a pair up, bringing the stained lacy material close to my nose, inhaling the musky aroma. These must have been the most recent pair, for the scent was strong, intoxicating, masculine and feminine both. I rubbed the material against my cheek, delighting in its cool smoothness.

Then the reality of my actions hit me and I leapt in fright at what I was doing. Quickly I returned them to the washing basket and left her room. Sitting on my bed, I felt my dick throbbing uncomfortably in my pants, making an obscene tent. I breathed deeply, thinking. It was an invasion of her privacy. She was my sister, getting aroused by explicit thoughts of her sexual activities was perverse and sick. But my imagination was obstinate. My sister likes to be creampied. My sister has been letting a man cum in her, to thrust in and out, in and out of her, deeper, deeper, shooting deep within her, filling her warm, wet passage. She'd then readjust her panties, letting the creamy mix seep into them. I wondered if having cum-soaked panties got her off.

Christ, my dick felt like it would burst from my pants, the discomfort pulling me back from that line of thought. Why was I thinking this? And what exactly was I aroused by? The sexual acts, or the fact that it was my sister doing them? I cringed. The drug-like effect of sniffing her panties was undeniable. And, like any drug, it threatened addiction. Was I really one of those weirdos, a panty-sniffer? And what if she found out what I was doing? No, no, I must push the thoughts far from my mind.

With great determination I sat at my computer and watched a TV show. One episode down and I was still erect, at which point I heard the door downstairs signalling my sister's return. If she saw me now, my face writ with guilt, the bulge in my pants betraying me! Yet what was my great sin after all? It was a victimless crime, surely. Why shouldn't I seek pleasure if none suffer for it? No, no, that wouldn't do. Better the Kantian than the hedonic, even if that meant the agony of self-condemnation. The strenuosity of my mental conflict demanded blood, but not fast enough.

The knock on my door startled me. The door opened before I could respond and there appeared my sister, her lightly tanned skin shining with perspiration, her sports bra leaving her taught abdomen bared. I must have blushed, for her right eyebrow raised.

"Uh, what, Jen?" I asked, my voice sounding more suspicious than intended.

This was awkward. No doubt she assumed that I had been watching porn.

"I'll be having a friend over for dinner," she said. "I thought I'd let you know."

"Your mysterious 'friend', do you mean?"

That was a good recovery. Put it back on her. She suppressed a scowl.

"Yes, I suppose so. You can meet him. He's very nice."

The day rolled by, my appetite for further drama greatly diminished, and around dinner time Jen presented Mr Moustache to the family. He displayed an aggressive sexuality in his choice of clothing, and I wanted to tell him to button up his shirt properly. He was French, apparently. That must have excused him in the eyes of my Francophile mother, although I felt that my father's reticence boded poorly for Jen's romantic interest. My parents were discreet enough not to embarrass my sister, and I didn't want to taste her perilous wrath.

"So, Monsieur Mous-", shit, I almost said moustache, "Moulin, how long have you been in our neck of the woods?"

"Three years. I've just finished my bachelors here."

Okay, he must be like 23 years old to my sister's 19. That detail didn't escape my father, from his frown.

"So Luke, are you planning on staying here for work, or returning to France?" asked Dad.

"Ehm, I return to Paris in one week."

This was news! I can't say I'd be sorry to see him go, but Jen looked a bit sad. Maybe all she wanted was a short fling with a Frenchman, which could explain her frequent nightly activities these recent weeks.

"I'm sorry we won't get a chance to get to know you better," offered Mum.

I wasn't. In any case, we finished eating and I returned to my room. I didn't feel like going out again in futile search for female companionship so I settled in for a night of cheap entertainment.

By midnight the day's excitement was catching up on me and I decided to relieve my sexual frustrations manually. I'd just started when I heard my sister in the next room. She must have felt less inhibited tonight, for the moaning was louder and I could discern her vocal encouragement, soft cries of 'yes!' and 'oh!'. Surely she knew I would hear her. My strokes matched the squeaking of her bed. 'Belle salope', that was Luke. Hang on - salope? Didn't that mean slut in French? Maybe I misheard him through the wall. 'Pute!' came a minute later, and that I definitely heard right. Goddamn, he just called my sister a whore, in our own house! I clenched my teeth, my jerking much faster now, beads of pre-cum gleaming from the wan glow of my monitor, where played a video of a blonde babe getting it hard. It was muted, but I could hear the scene being acted out in the very next room, the sheer depravity of it electrifying me.

I came, hard, just as my sister exclaimed her own orgasm, the sound muffled but audible. The action on the screen continued: the masculine grunts, thrusting and withdrawing, leaving a sticky white prize to slide from wet, pink pussy. I sat panting in the afterglow of my climax, my mind quieted, if only for a minute. Better not to consider too long what had just occurred I told myself as I drifted into sleep.

But how am I to escape my own thoughts?

*

The following week was difficult. First I forbade myself from thinking of sex at all, but this of course had the opposite effect. All I could think about was sex, of my sister's sex, of how it aroused and embarrassed me even to see my sister. I told myself it was unhealthy to let the mind malinger on such things, yet once the demon has been let in, does it ever leave? Not willingly, and I lacked the will for that self-exorcism. A part of me, the demon now residing in the dark recesses, longed for a repeat of Friday. What indescribable pleasure it had brought me, to hear and, by mind's eye, bear witness to the most intimate acts of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, my sister, my Jennifer. To have heard my sister's words, as if whispering encouragement to my own depravity, pushing me further and further from the light. When Monsieur Moustache did not visit again for more midnight R&R, I instead thought of the two of them, rutting away in his car, her skirt hiked up and movements frantic from need. Or perhaps she would follow him into the gents at the cinema, dropping to her knees in the cubical to service his knob, his groaning arousing the envy and silent respect of the fellow in an adjacent cubical. He would leave some white fluid in her golden mane to be born as a badge, all the public to see. My imagination ran rampant, crafting great works from his simple words, 'salope' and 'pute'. There was wicked delight in degrading my angelic sister to these terms.

My madness worsened, unnoticed by my family. One day I went out of my way to avoid going to the gym with my sister, lest I see her in bike shorts, or see her taught, shining figure on the treadmill. The next day I did go, rewarding me with exactly that which I feared and sending me deeper into a tail spin. The calm, rational voice that had served me so well at school, in exams, in piano recitals, had not yet deserted me, but it was that voice of reason that I came to hate half the time.

I was constantly horny. Alice Cooper had hit the nail on the head.

An opportunity for further sordidness presented itself the day before Monsieur Moustache was scheduled to return home to France. My sister was preparing to go on her final date with him at a fancy restaurant in the down town. Determined to look her finest - a sight I thought would blind passer-by's - Jen was hogging the bathroom, constantly flitting between her room and the vanity. I thought it all rather futile owing to her natural attractiveness, and certainly unwarranted by her evening's company, but it did mean I saw her in various states of dress, including catching an eyeful of her lingerie-clad figure when I popped out of my room to get a glass of water. Jen saw me and asked how she looked.

"I wouldn't leave you for the crown of France," I replied.

Touched by my sweetness, she approached to hug me thanks, then withdrew suddenly. I balked - was my crotch awry? Fortunately not. She dashed back into her bedroom, realising that she was half naked. Odd, but exciting all the same.

I had managed to keep my thoughts relatively clean up to then that day, instead playing online poker - a profitable venture - but the sight of my scantily clad sister affected me. Never mind that we were siblings: she was objectively glorious. Her long, stockinged legs and matching white laced bra and panties, combined with her shapely breasts and fine countenance made an exquisite image. To have actually seen in the flesh what I had been imagining sent me wild with lust. Whatever porn I had stashed away was a pale imitation of her; she was Plato's ideal Form. Back in the safety of my room I stroked myself through my jeans thinking on it. I heard the doorbell signalling Luke's arrival.

"See you later Alex!" Jen yelled.

I was reluctant to come out of my room but couldn't resist seeing her again, so I watched from the window as she walked up the driveway to the car. Owing to Luke's average height she wasn't wearing her tallest heels, but what she wore accentuated her lean legs and I subconsciously licked my dry lips at her swaying hips. Once out of sight, I retreated from the window, my cock straining absurdly. My parents were out for one of my father's corporate events and wouldn't be home until late, so I had the house to myself. En route to my computer for a quick jerk I saw Jen's door was open and the light still on, obviously forgotten in her haste to the door. I poked my head in, this time seeing the very panties and bra that she had been wearing mere minutes ago resting on her bed, discarded. This intrigued me. Had she gone panty-less? Had she chosen something else at the last minute? I stepped into her room and picked up the panties, a cute white design with floral cut-outs. They were still warm, testament to their very recent divestment. What's more, I felt the inside fabric was moist. Christ! Immediately I brought it to my nose, quickly identifying the feminine musk of my sister's cunny. Dressing up for her final night out with the Frenchman must have excited her more than I had imagined.

Without thought I put my tongue to the moist fabric, but the taste of fabric overwhelmed the delicate savour of my sister's arousal. Inhaling this drug was more effective, making me so lightheaded I was barely aware of freeing my cock from its denim prison. It was incredibly erect and at its fullest extent, a full seven inches long, veiny and thick. Taking stock of this incredible opportunity, it occurred that I could sheath my length in her panties, which I did with delight. The mix of the slightly warm, moist, soft fabric and, even more poignant, the image of my sister wearing them, prompted a rapid jerking and an incredible orgasm, my ejaculation strong and copious, spurt after spurt of hot cum flowing into my sister's intimate, sexy underwear.

I sat panting on my sister's bed, her delicate panties wrapped around my slowly diminishing erection. I allowed myself a minute to bask in the glow of it all before removing them and then watched as the great quantity of cum gradually soaked into the white fabric, darkening it. It was a marvellous sight, although it did leave me the problem of what to do next. She was unlikely to return for several more hours, possibly the following morning, so my deposit would dry in. They were white, fortunately, but I suspected the staining would still be visible. No choice but to leave them as I found them and hope that she would wash them without a second thought. Trying to wash them myself would be too risky, particularly as I hadn't the faintest how the delicates setting on the washing machine worked, and they mightn't dry quickly enough on this cool evening.

The deed done, I turned off her light and left her room. Over my dinner I couldn't help but think on it further. My rational mind was in session again. What if my sister didn't wash them immediately? Hell, she might even wear them! After all, she had barely worn them for twenty minutes. Or was that man-think? Perhaps women were more fastidious on these issues. There was no way that I could influence her decision without getting caught, which would surely spell my emasculation and eternal damnation. What if she noticed the staining? Would she think it the result of her own arousal, or, now experienced in cum-stained panties, would she identify its true nature? Would my sister work out that her own brother had wacked off in her panties, still warm and moist from her arousal, filling them with his cream?

And if she didn't notice and wore them the next day... then her brother's semen - my semen - would be in direct contact with her slit, rubbing against her labia, insinuating itself into her skin. My musk, mixing with hers. I felt light-headed again, dreadfully aroused but also disgusted at my hedonic myopia.

The rest of my night passed in this state of limbo, this horrible concoction of fear, guilt, lust and disgust, until finally I found sleep. Sleep was purgatory, my dream theatre playing scenes that would pass from eroticism to horror in the course of seconds.

I jolted awake in the bleary grey light of pre-dawn, my heart beating within my chest. Quickly I went to my sister's door which, to my relief, was still open as she had left it. I turned on the light and it was exactly as the night before. Listening carefully in case my parents woke early, I stood at the threshold, aware that I was the criminal returned to the scene of the crime. I stepped in and took the underwear, holding it to the light, searching. In the harsh fluorescence the staining was visible and my heart fell from my throat to my stomach, where it pounded so loudly I was sure it would wake the dead. A cold sweat broke on my neck. If my sister looked closely she would undoubtedly see my transgression. Why hadn't I done this with a pair already in the washing basket? Why had I done this at all?

Nothing for it. I carefully returned the offending garment to its position. It was up to the gods now. Dawn broke with gathering pace. Birds chortled. Did they sing my condemnation like a Greek chorus? I lay in bed watching as light burst around my curtain.

I broke fast with my parents then whiled away time playing piano. Jen returned around 10am. I heard her in the bathroom, then her bedroom. Two excruciating minutes passed, the piano falling silent as I waited for the accusatory call. Several more minutes of silence, my fear easing. Nothing. I was surely safe.

I went to make coffee, my sister entering the room as the kettle boiled.

"Make me one too, please," she said as she breezed in.

I nodded, my throat too constricted to force out any words. She was wearing a long skirt and bright blue blouse, giving me the odd impression of a school teacher from decades past, but her hair fell freely around her shoulders, framing her face in gold. A carefree country lass, then.

"I'll just put on some washing," she said, and left.

That set my heart racing. Perhaps I could check to see if the white ones were included? That would set my mind at ease. But how to check without arousing suspicion? I plunged the coffee and poured a mug. A click as the washing machine was closed and the hum as it started, then my sister returned to the kitchen.

"So, sis, Luke is leaving today?"

"Yes, his flight is this morning - I saw him off at the airport before coming here. Coffee's good, by the way."

"I'm glad."

"What?"

"I mean, glad that you're back home. You've been out a lot since returning from Asia, you know, with Luke and co. I feel like I haven't seen you much this year."

Jen smiled a warm, sincere smile. "You're a good brother. I missed you too."

The case of the white panties was not resolved until later that day when I saw them out on the line. All my fear drained from me and I laughed at my how stressed I had been. There was no harm in it after all.

*

It was mid-January and the days were long, the mercury high. A new week began. While the sun was up I felt clear headed, able to focus on reading, music and games, despite seeing my sister wearing cut-offs and tank tops on a regular basis. I went to the gym each day with Jen and managed to avoid undue distraction, although I delighted in watching her work up a sweat. Nights were different. I tried to maintain a balance in my solitary exertions, using anonymous online erotica, my own experience and thoughts of my sister in equal measure. There was no repeat of my recent misadventure, for want of opportunity, so the memory had to suffice.

"You should come out with me tonight," my sister said at lunch.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, the usual. Clubs, drinking, talking to people: a little thing called living, dear brother."

I scoffed, "Clubs and talking to people in the same sentence?"

Jen rolled her eyes. "You need to get out there. Take that as sisterly advice; take that as an order from your elder -whatever. Too much lounging around the house."

"Yes ma'am."

My sister could be condescending at times, though she probably considered it 'helping'.

"Will you be my wing-woman?"

"Hmmm... No. Maybe you can rope in your friend, Sam? He's quite a charmer."

I face-palmed. Jen chuckled.

The first club of the evening was a non-starter, in my opinion. I handed over my money, received my alcohol and watched as slutty-dressed young women gyrated with poorly dressed young men. How common. Jen was with a small group of her girlfriends, and probably for that reason no one approached her to offer a dance or a drink. I observed a few chumps waiting in hope that she would split herself from the group, but it didn't happen. Perhaps they needed to work together.

The second club was classier. There were low tables and chairs sunken into a quieter area of the club, a glass bar with glowing bottles of exotic liquor and a dance-floor in the centre. Male tactics were better here, for over the course of an hour Jen's friends were wooed away until only she remained of her group, sitting at the bar, probably waiting for someone to buy her an outrageous cocktail. She wore the same backless top and short skirt combo I had seen a while back, giving an excellent view of her figure. She wasn't drink-less for long.

Me, I was having unexpected success with a petite brunette named Jacqui. Her clothing was conservative despite the warm night and she looked out of place. Her refusal of my offer of a drink indicated that she was probably a designated driver. I led her to the quieter area.

"You came in with the blond at the bar, right?"

"Yeah, she's my sister. How about you, are you with anyone?"

"Some friends. I have to drive them home."

"That sucks. I mean, it could be boring."

She laughed, "Boring depends on company. Are you a boring man, Alex?"

"Dullest man alive, I'll have you know."

"You don't seem so bad. What do you do?"

"I'm starting university, studying naval architecture."

"That sounds fun! So you want to, what, design boats?"

"Yeah, something like that. You know Blohm & Voss? Anyway, they build ships. I've always been interested in building stuff, big things. Too much Lego as a young'un."

We spoke for a while, on topics I normally wouldn't broach with a girl at a club at midnight. Maybe her equal discomfort in the setting eased my mind.

"Tell you what, I have to go but here's my number. Perhaps we could meet some time."

She scribbled a number onto a cardboard coaster and passed it to me.

"Yeah, I'd like that. Take care."

I watched as she rounded up a couple of others and departed. Not bad, all things considered. Over at the bar another hopeful had approached and was talking to my sister. He was tall, taller than me even, and muscular. My guess: at least twenty five years old. He irked me. I walked to the opposite end of the bar. Now that I was closer I could see he had a hard face, neither ugly nor handsome. It looked like my sister was uncomfortable or unimpressed, but I didn't want to annoy her: she was, after all, capable of fending for herself. She had a half-empty glass in hand. However, now that Jacqui had left, I wanted to go home.

"Excuse me," I said, standing next to the two of them.

They turned and the man sized me up.

"Beat it kiddo, can't you see I'm talking to this nice lady?"

Yep, he was a jerk. Jen looked relieved at my arrival.

"Chill dude. I just need to have a word," I replied.

This had the opposite effect. He now looked angry, intimidating.

"I said talk to someone else, kid."

My sister opened her mouth to calm the situation but I wasn't impressed by his arrogance.

"You need to back off, mister. She's my sister, and she's not interested."

His lip curled at this and I thought he was going to growl and bare his teeth like an angry bulldog. I may have made a terrible mistake, this guy was huge. Then he smiled.

"Well then. Enjoy your drink, miss."

He left. I turned to my sister, who was flush with the sudden excitement.

"Come on sis, let's go home."

"I can't believe you said that to him," she giggled.

"Yeah, well, he was being a jerk."

My sister took a last swig from her glass and put her arm around me as we walked out of the club, her balance and coordination off. By the time we reached the bus stop Jen looked dizzy.

"How much did you have to drink Jen?"

"Uh, not so much," she chortled in reply.

Too much, it looked like. I had stopped drinking when I started talking to Jacqui, almost an hour ago, but Jen looked out of it. I realised I'd never seen her drunk before.

"Woah, I need the bathroom."

"The bus will be here soon and we'll be home in twenty minutes."

She grinned broadly, revealing her dazzling white teeth, "No, like: now."

This wasn't so very amusing in my opinion. She tried to stand up off the bench but lacked the coordination for that and instead slumped into my shoulder, then rested her head in my lap her refulgent blue eyes gazing up at me, pupils dilated.

"Come on, let's get you home sis."

"You're so clever Alex. It makes me so -" she stopped as the bus pulled up.

So what? My sister was kind of cute now, in a childish way, but mainly weird. I lifted her by the shoulders. The bus driver disapproved of the scene before him, the doors closed and the bus drove off.

"Did that bastard just drive off?" Jen said, giggling hysterically.

I called a taxi, realising I probably should have started with that. My sister was once again using my lap as a pillow. She put her hand on my right thigh and began idly rubbing it up and down. What?! This wasn't good. My beautiful drunk sister, clearly out of her mind, was sprawled over me and rubbing my leg as if intent on arousing me! Christ, it was like a dream I had. I gently took her small hand in mine and moved it to her own leg, where the rubbing continued, closer and closer to her crotch. The sheer perversity of the scene was both confusing and exciting. I felt my manhood stir beneath my sister's head, so I clenched and unclenched my fists repeatedly.

Fortunately the taxi pulled up before any further madness could occur and I helped Jen in and gave our address.

"She looks unwell. Make sure she isn't sick in the car," said the driver.

He was right. She did look unwell, sort of manic, simultaneously energetic and unfocussed, uncoordinated and ecstatic. This didn't seem to be merely the effect of alcohol. I thought carefully as I watched my sister's odd, lewd movements, her head on my shoulder and hands in her lap. Drugs? But my sister did not take drugs, I was certain of it. If she had taken drugs, surely she would have done it hours ago and therefore exhibited this odd behaviour earlier in the night. Then it hit me. She had been drugged, surreptitiously, probably by that last guy. My brow furrowed. What had he said as he walked away? Enjoy the drink, miss. The fucking bastard must have spiked her drink, there was no other explanation. My sister had very nearly been the victim of date-rape.

The taxi pulled up outside our house and I paid the driver then got Jen out of the car. She was frantic now, desperate to pee but barely able to walk. Gritting my teeth, I lifted her up and carried her, rushing down the driveway to the door, which I struggled to open while still carrying my sister, who was now laughing silently. She was light enough to carry fairly easily, but her squirming made climbing the stairs difficult. Finally we made it to the bathroom, whereupon a warm sensation spread as my sister relieved herself in my arms, completely wetting her skirt and me in the process."Oops!" she cackled.

Once I'd sat her down I considered what to do next. Obviously I couldn't leave her unattended, but nor did I want to wake my parents and have to explain why all this had happened, including my own failure to bring my sister home in time. For her part, my sister was decidedly unhelpful, carrying on in a most undignified way. I couldn't believe that my usually graceful, elegant sister had urinated on me like an infant. I turned and took off my shirt, tossing it to the floor. I needed a shower, as did my sister, but that posed a problem. Maybe I would need to wake my mother.

What an unmitigated cluster-fuck. I took a cup from the vanity, filled it with water and gave it to my sister to sip and then put on the shower. We could shower clothed, that wouldn't be weird would it? Although I'd need to help her, otherwise she might slip. I turned to look at her, only to find that she'd already discarded her clothing and heels and was now sitting naked and looking at me, evidently pleased with herself. I'd seen my sister naked before, but not for several years. Yet there she now was, nude, her rose-pink nipples standing erect on her full breasts. I saw her pubis, the light brown hair of her landing strip now wet with piss. I couldn't turn away. She was marvellous, bare, and vulnerable.

"Come on sis, let's get you clean," I ordered.

Now was not the time to be distracted by lust. I had a duty to my sister. She had drugged, in addition to being drunk. Fortunately she was not vomiting. She nodded and I helped her to the shower. The water seemed to calm her and restore some sense to her addled mind. I stepped into the shower with her, happy to let the warm water wash splash over my bare chest, my sister's nakedness mere inches from me. Within my now water-soaked pants, my dick stiffened at primal urge, straining towards her. Suddenly she pushed herself against me, putting arms around me. I felt her warmth radiate into me as we hugged, her breasts pressed against my chest.

"Thank you," she said finally.

Those were her last words that night. She was coming down from the drug-induced high and the depressant was kicking in. I turned off the shower and gave her a towel, which she struggled with for a minute until I helped her. Towel in hand, I rubbed her smooth, athletic calves and up her thighs, my hands dancing over her cleft, coming tantalising close. Her lips quivered. Then her soft buttocks, her midriff, her bosom. She clasped her hands to mine when I had the towel over her breasts, pulling me in to touch her through the towel, moaning softly as she did so. I wanted to linger there, to squeeze and caress her. My mind and dick throbbed in coordination and my throat was dry. But I wouldn't - couldn't - take advantage of my sister so I finished drying her. Satisfied, I towelled myself off and then led her to her bed. She lay down and I looked for her pyjamas, but at this hour couldn't navigate her wardrobe, finding only dresses, jeans and shoes. Telling her to wait, I hurried to grab a tee shirt of my own, the largest I could find. I watched as she pulled it on, giving me a final tantalising glimpse of her pink slit and milky tits. I left to put on my pyjamas, returning with another glass of water. Jen was clearly very tired now, but I didn't want to leave her yet in case her condition worsened. Instead, I brought a chair over beside her bed and sat, watching the regular rise and fall of her chest as she fell asleep. It was well after 2am and I was exhausted. I watched over her, bleary eyed, until weariness claimed me.

*

The first thing I felt on waking was the stiffness of my neck. I had slept in an uncomfortable chair and my muscles did not appreciate it. My sister was still in bed, still alive to my great relief. It was Friday, 8.30am. My parents would have left to work an hour ago, evidently not checking upstairs before leaving. I struggled out of my chair and stretched then went to the bathroom, collecting the discarded clothing and putting it in the laundry. Jacqui's coaster and mobile number were lost to water damage. After, a Google search on date-rape drugs identified GHB, street name fantasy or liquid ecstasy, as the likely culprit as it was a psychotic aphrodisiac and significantly worsened motor control, particularly when combined with alcohol.

In the harsh light of morning the events of night replayed in my mind on a loop. Had I done the right thing, washing her, drying her, simply seeing her naked? My intent had not been sexual. Well, maybe a little, but I had acted from brotherly love, from duty. Yes, part of me responded to the stimulus in a way consistent with evolutionary biological concerns, particularly when I felt my sister's nakedness pressed against me. And yes, my lusting may have led to sub-optimal choices when towelling her off. But what to make of her behaviour? Drug addled. Maybe she didn't even recognise me as her brother. Were drugs really that potent? The way she had embraced me, her soft, luxuriously bare skin against me, her hard nipples poking into me. How her slightly-parted quim had quivered as I held the towel millimetres from it, just barely brushing her. That could not occur in a vacuum, could it? The tantalising thought that my sister might share my lust danced through my mind.

It was late morning when my sister finally roused. For better or worse I went to her room, finding her sitting on her bed, head in hands, wearing her dressing gown.

"I have the most hellish headache. It feels like the devil is beating his way into my head," she groaned.

I felt my heart fluttering, my throat suddenly parched.

"Yeah," I mumbled.

She raised her head and stared at me, her piercing blue eyes holding my gaze.

"Why am I wearing your t-shirt, Alex? What happened last night?"

Ah, the dreaded questions. That didn't take long.

"Uh, well," I hesitated.

I had thought about what to say, but now I actually had to say it. This really was a fuck-up.

"Well, uh, we went clubbing, remember? To jive and Verdant, yeah?"

She nodded, "I remember. Sort of. Actually, I'm a bit fuzzy on what happened at Verdant."

"Simply put, I think someone spiked your drink. As in, you were drugged. That is, I'm pretty sure you were. You were really dizzy last night. I brought you home."

She winced, pain creasing her delicate face. "Drugged? Like... roofies?"

I nodded and there was a minute of silence. Faintly remembered trauma played across her.

"Fuck," she said eventually. "What else happened?"

"Not much. Like I was saying, I told the guy to bugger off and took you home in a taxi. You were tired and, well, high. I got you into bed and let you sleep it off. You weren't sick and nothing else really happened," I lied.

My sister looked confused and fragile. I hoped that she didn't remember the bathroom stuff - how the hell could I explain that? 'It seemed like a good idea at the time' didn't mitigate how awkward it would be for the both of us if she knew. Christ, now I'd lied about it to her.

"I, I need some time to think."

I sat down next to her on the bed and put my arm over her shoulder.

"I would never let anything bad happen to you, you know that sis."

"I know," she said, resting her head on my shoulder, hugging me.

I felt her sobbing silently against me and felt wretched. I had abused her trust, first in deed then in word. I could try and weasel out of it as much as I liked, I could blame it on alcohol or tiredness or pretend that I had only wanted to help, but I knew the truth of my lust, even if she didn't, even if it felt right at the time. Now she clung to me for comfort, her slender frame pressed against me and her tears dampening my shirt. I didn't have the heart to pull away and tell her the truth, to cause her further pain, so I sat, my insides churning with guilt.

"I love you, Alex," she whispered at last.

Her words felt like a dagger to my chest, at once filling me with hope and despair. She loved me, maybe she would even forgive me, but she would never love me in the way I loved her.

A pall fell between the two of us that weekend. I could see that my sister was still reeling from what had happened, and I had the sense that her memory was returning in bits and pieces. Being drugged and almost being a victim of a far worse crime had shaken her, but perhaps worse was her growing recollection of what had happened afterwards. She asked me several times; I refused to give a straight answer. I withdrew from my family, ashamed at what I had done, ashamed at my thoughts and fantasies. My sister recognised in me some internal conflict just as I recognised her confusion and fear. When I heard her sobbing late Sunday night, in the same way I had heard the sounds of her sexual activities, I felt my very soul was being trampled. By then she must have known what had happened at the bus-stop and in the bathroom - maybe she wasn't certain, maybe the details were still hazy, but when I caught her eyes in the hallway I could see how the memories troubled her.

I hated myself. I hated that it still aroused me when I replayed the bathroom scenes in my head, thinking about what I should have done differently. I hated the bittersweet agony of my feelings for my sister. But most of all, I hated that she did not, could not, reciprocate them. The entire summer was a train wreck, starting with that simple laundry discovery which pushed me into an abyss of obsessiveness, of sordidness with my sister's panties, of dreams and angst and lust and guilt.

I started when I heard a soft knock on my door on Monday after dinner. The door opened before I responded and I saw my sister. I felt a lump in my throat.

"Alex, I think we need to talk."

I nodded my reply, afraid of speaking. Jen sat on my bed and ran her hands along her thighs, then clasped them together, wringing them briefly.

"You've been avoiding me all weekend," she said.

No response. I evaded her gaze, afraid of the power it had over me.

"Look, I've thought it over a lot. What happened, well, it was-"

"-wrong," I interjected.

My sister looked hurt. Heavens below, was it a mistake to say that?

"Wrong," she repeated, her voice hollow. "I'm sorry I did what I did."

Wait - she was apologising to me?

"I wasn't thinking straight, I felt like I was floating above myself, as if in a dream. Forgive me, Alex. I need to hear you forgive me."

"You did nothing wrong, sis. You weren't yourself."

She nodded, relieved. "Yes, I wasn't myself. You saved me, Alex. I can't thank you enough. The mistakes I would have made..."

I didn't really understand what she was talking about but I felt the tension between us diffuse. She didn't blame me for what had happened - I could hardly believe it. Maybe things could go back to normal between us. I would stop thinking sexually about my sister, stop fantasising about her, and then nothing like this would happen again. We could be normal siblings, nothing between us beyond brotherly/sisterly love. It would be a challenge, now that I had seen her naked beauty up close, now that I had felt her nipples pressed against me and the softness of her buttocks, to say nothing of her beckoning cunny.

Despite my guilt and wretchedness, seeing my sister naked and feeling her hot body against mine had awoken a powerful curiosity in my sister's sex. Where previously I had only dreamt of her naked, or having sex with her boyfriend, a new dream came into my mind: the dream of entering her myself, of making sweet, incestuous love to my sister. It almost felt more absurd that I'd never had the thought before than it did weird to have the thought at all. Yet as the week bore on and outwardly my relationship with my sister returned to normal, inwardly my imagination grew more and more bold.

My rational voice returned, now questioning the practicalities of the proposition rather than its morality. How could I get my sister to have sex with me? How would we hide it from our parents? How would we carry on in our lives afterwards? Perhaps I could get her drunk again, or take her in her sleep, or let her catch me jacking off in her panties and profess my undying love to her... Yes, her panties. I was having withdrawal symptoms; I needed another hit of her freshly discarded panties to sate my lust. I sought opportunities to this end, but it was not until Thursday that I seized one.

My sister had indicated she would no longer go out clubbing, or even to bars, on account of her recent experience. This meant she was at home a lot, mainly in her room. Since her return from overseas I had relearned her daily patterns. At the end of the day she would change to her nightdress, go to the bathroom and then go to bed. She did washing on Mondays and Fridays. On Thursday night I stayed up, giddy with the excitement of what I was soon to do. When I heard her go into the bathroom I had to act fast, dashing into her room, going to her laundry basket, and seizing the day's pair. They were much plainer underpants than the previous pairs, to my disappointment, but once I had them back in the room and was inspecting them, I found that they were warm and damp with the scent of my sister's pussy. I inhaled greedily, then lay on my bed, whereupon I sheathed my dick in her plain, blue cotton panties and fantasised about my gorgeous sister. It was seven days since we'd gone to the night club, since I'd seen her enticing nakedness. Now I replayed those bathroom scenes in my mind, elaborating and embellishing, extrapolating. I would rub her clit, eliciting moans. I would enter her slick wet hole, first with my fingers, then my cock. My sister would feel her brother's shaft plunging into her pink folds, thrusting in and out slowly but with increasing urgency.

I was panting heavily and the knock on my door did not register until it was already swinging open, as usual before I had a chance to answer. I pulled the sheets over me and moved onto my side so my fully erect cock wouldn't poke up so obviously, but I was too slow. My sister gasped at the threshold, her eyes wide. She was wearing her small nightdress, the outlines of her legs and the darkness of her thin line of pubic hair faintly visible, her nipples poking against the fabric. My cheeks turned a deep crimson. I was too embarrassed to speak or move, and my gaze was held as if for eternity by hers.

"Close the door, sis!" I hissed at last.

Instead of leaving, she stepped into my room and closed the door behind her. Then she took another couple of steps and sat at the end of my bed. I was petrified. What the hell was she doing?! Having her so close while I had her panties around my throbbing cock, barely inches from her and only covered by a thin sheet, filled me with great desire and terror in equal measure. I could so easily reach over, push her onto the bed, pull up her nightdress and take her. Equally, she could cry rape and then I'd have my parents storming up here and that would be the end of that. Neither thing happened.

She placed her palm on my calf, causing involuntary and embarrassingly visible twitching through the sheets from my rigid shaft.

"I believe you have something of mine," she said.

Oh Christ! Why the fuck had she been looking in her laundry basket? And, what's more, why did she come in here to retrieve a pair of fucking panties - having worked out that I had them, surely my design for them was obvious? Her hand slid up my leg to where I was holding the sheet against my chest, threatening to pull it off me. I could hardly believe what was happening. I shook my head, my guilt as obvious as my blush. She yanked the sheet, but I held it firm with one hand, the other still wrapped around my cock.

"Oh, are you using them?" she asked, smiling coyly.

I had to be dreaming this - my sister, coming on to me. Goading me!

"You know, after last weekend, I thought that I must be mad. Drunk and drugged as I was, I was still conscious, little brother. I know what happened that night."

"What?" I sputtered.

"All summer I've felt your eyes on me. At first I denied it, told myself that I was imagining things. But then I found the white panties from the night before Luke left. I'm sure you remember. They were on my bed in the morning, innocent as can be, until I discovered the secret within."

My heart was racing a million miles a minute. I didn't understand what was happening, at all. Why wasn't she angry, or disgusted?

"I was shocked, of course. Apparently my brother liked to jerk off in my panties. Initially it disgusted me, and then I thought about it more. In its own way it was touching. Maybe you just liked the sensation of cum-filled panties against your skin - hell, I could understand that. I did an online search. Actually it isn't uncommon, and not necessarily indicative of any sisterly fixation. Definitely not conclusive proof of," she paused, "incestuous desire."

I felt a chill down my spine as she said those words and I felt quite ill, not with guilt, but with shame.

"So I forgave you that indiscretion and waited to see if it would happen again. When it didn't, I figured you were simply curious and made a mistake. Things returned to normal. Then we went clubbing and I was drugged. As you observed, I was high as kite. An evil curiosity awoke in me to see what would happen if I messed with you a little. A little experiment, if you will, to find out the nature of your feelings towards me, and whether you'd act on them. Mind you, I wasn't thinking clearly."

I trembled as my sister recounted events from her point of view, which had a couple of chronological errors but was otherwise accurate. Her embarrassment was evident as she glossed over pissing herself in my arms, but her tone changed as she continued, becoming more animated as she went.

"I was drugged and confused, but I could have sworn that seeing me bare excited you. Then I saw your huge erection in the shower and began to appreciate the effect I was having on you. To be honest, it excited me. I felt like a sicko, but I couldn't deny that it excited me."

My sister's voice was now wavering and her cheeks flush. "But you restrained yourself and helped rather than took advantage of me. And when my memories returned over the course of the weekend, I realised that it was I who was to blame for leading you on. I felt a terrible guilt, sure that you would reject me for my depraved behaviour."

I couldn't believe it. She felt guilty for what she'd done! My sister, admitting to trying to excite me, even if she was drug-addled! I could only nod my head, my other head still twitching in my hand beneath the sheet.

"Since Monday I've reflected on it all. I thought that my suspicions against you were all fabrication, a fantasy! Maybe I was mistaken about the white panties, I told myself. Maybe I was mistaken about what happened in the bathroom, simply imagining your arousal -after all, I was smashed. Maybe it was I who harboured the secret fantasy, not you. You can imagine my surprise then when I saw that my panties, the ones that I'd just taken off, were missing from my laundry basket. And here we are: here - they - are."

With a sudden pull, my sister stripped the bed-sheet from me, revealing my hand clenched around my thick manhood, still clad in her panties. I gasped. She had exposed me, my crime painfully apparent, and yet she did not recoil. In fact, it was becoming obvious that my sister shared at least some of my perverted lust. All this time I had considered only my own feelings, never realising that my sister... well, I still wasn't quite sure. Did she want me as I wanted her, or just to know that I wanted her?

"You look confused," she commented as she placed her delicate hand onto mine, avoiding contact with my throbbing shaft.

She pulled my hand up and down, jerking my cock by proxy. The warmth of my hand, of her hand, of her panties and having her, my sister, my dearest, sexy sister sitting on my bed in her nightdress, playing with me, her brow furrowed with concentration, a ribald grin playing on her lips, her thinly-veiled bosom inches from my face... I feared I would come in that instant, coating my sister in my incestuous seed, so I pulled away from her sultry grasp. It was too much, to be suddenly thrust from fantasy to reality: I needed time to process what was happening. I am a thinker - I don't just do things, yet here I was, here my sister was and what was I doing?

"You don't want me," she exhaled unevenly. "You just wanted my panties, not me."

I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say. Yes, I wanted her! Of course I did! But how could I say that? If I gave voice to my desire, there could be no taking it back. In a burst of motion she sprang away from me, out of my room and back into her own, her door slamming shut a second later. I made to follow then stopped myself and collapsed onto my bed, my mind spinning.

I couldn't sleep that night, my heart was too charged. Within an hour I was in pain, punished by the blue-balls I had given myself, having become too confused to finish masturbating. Not when I could hear my sister crying into her pillow in the next room. At first I didn't understand her, but eventually I realised the courage it must have taken her to come in here and do what she did, putting her relationship with me on the line. In her eyes I had pulled away, rejecting her. Oh, if only I had told her the truth! She was now suffering the same turmoil I had been suffering. How easy it would be to go in there, to assuage her anguish by telling her how I felt, by apologising, by surrendering to the emotions we both felt. But I couldn't. A thousand scenarios ran through my mind and I was paralysed by fear. When morning light burst through my windows I prayed that I would wake from this fever-dream. Instead, at the threshold of my waking hour I fell asleep, too exhausted to continue.

*

My pitiful rest was interrupted by my mother calling me down to breakfast.

"Jenny! Alex! Breakfast, sleepyheads!" she yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

I cursed and dragged myself out of bed, stepping into the hallway at the same moment as my sister. She averted her eyes and started down the stairs.

"Wait," I said.

She didn't. Down in the kitchen we sat opposite each other, as usual, but she still didn't look at me.

"I thought you and Dad had work this morning," Jen said to Mum.

"No, we have the day off. I thought we all might go to the beach; it's a beautiful day for it."

"Actually, I've got to go to work after lunch," my father grumbled.

"We'll only be a few hours," Mum said, insistent.

I groaned inwardly at the prospect. The beach was well and good, and it was a beautiful day - not perishing heat, but warm and sunny - but I wanted sleep far more. My sister looked equally thrilled as I at the prospect. However, we both knew Mum would have her way whether we liked it or not, so there was little point arguing.

"It'll be good to get you two out of the house. Particularly you, Jenny. You've barely been out at all since Luke left."

I foresaw a long, awkward silence in the car ride there with my sister, and was not disappointed. Being a Friday morning, the beach was not too busy when we arrived and my mother and sister went off to the toilets to get changed. I was already in my board shorts so I only needed to apply sunscreen. Dad, for his part, was pleased to be out of the office and we wandered onto the beach to set up a couple of chairs and an umbrella.

Mum and Jen joined us on the beach. My sister was wearing the skimpiest bathing suit I'd ever seen on her, with the bikini top leaving plenty of her breasts uncovered and her bikini bottoms tight around her small bum. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw her cameltoe. Was she doing this to punish me? I looked away before Mum could notice my gaze.

"Ah, my two beautiful ladies. This was a great idea, honey," Dad said.

Christ, a great idea it would be if my sister wasn't here, teasing me with that ridiculous outfit. Not waiting around, I ran into the surf. The water cooled the heat in my loins, but the fire returned as I watched my sister rub tanning lotion into her thighs and the bare tops of her breasts. She was slow and deliberate as she rubbed her taught stomach, making circles down to her bikini bottoms. With this erotic show before me, I was soon hard as steel, and now unable to leave the water without revealing my tented shorts. What was she playing at? She didn't want to talk to me, but surely she knew what a tease she was being! I swam up and down the beach to get away from the titillating sight.

Eventually I tired of my swimming and returned to my family, taking care to pre-emptively tuck my dick into my waistband where my semi-flaccid state was covered by my t-shirt. It was well I did, because as I approached I saw that my sister was now lying on her belly in the sun, her buttocks half bare. Her legs were parted enough for me to get an astonishing view up to her cameltoe, her pussy just covered by the thin fabric. My parents were reading and none of the three noticed my lingering, salacious stare. Or so I thought until my sister wiggled her butt before turning over again to look at me.

"How's the water?" she asked.

"Great," I replied, involuntarily licking my lips.

My sister watched my expression with a keen interest and then stood up, giving me a view down her cleavage as she did so.

"Well, I'll have a swim. You should come in as well, Mum and Dad. Alex says the water is great."

My parents looked up and nodded, and soon we were all in the surf. My sister swam out deeper and I followed.

"We need to talk about last night," I said once we'd stopped.

"Last night? What about it?" she said, playing dumb.

"Everything!" I replied, exasperated.

My sister stared at me, her face bearing an odd, indecipherable expression.

"Nothing happened last night."

"Christ, sis! You know as well as I do that that was not nothing!"

Suddenly her temper flared. "No, you're right! You stole from me; you fouled my panties with your sick behaviour! Then, then, you rejected me!"

My sister turned her back to me with a huff. I was stunned. Our parents were twenty metres away but were oblivious.

"I'm sorry, sis. I'm sorry," I said at last. "I was just scared."

"I was scared too, Alex! It was a lot for me to take in. First, that my brother was masturbating in my underwear. Second, that you had seen me naked when I was drugged and that it got you hard. Oh, and third! That despite how wrong it was, I couldn't deny it aroused me too," she said, choking on her words.

I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around her underwater, holding her around her tummy. My rock-hard dick was pressing into the small of her back, but I didn't care. I wanted her. I wanted my sister, to feel her again. Hearing her words dissolved my inhibition.

"Stop it," she gasped as I nuzzled the nook of her neck, her wet golden hair against my cheek.

I pulled her closer into me, into the hardness of my erection, as one hand crept up to cup her left breast, while the other slid down to the waistband of her bikini bottoms.

"Stop it!" she repeated, more insistent this time.

Reason had left me now. All I could sense was my hands squeezing my sister's soft breasts and my fingers groping down to her slit. Then a savage elbow strike to the side and I was forced to release her. My sister kicked away and stared at me, tears now in her eyes.

"You can't treat me like that!" she hissed."I don't understand, I thought you -"

She gave me a black look, "You pushed me away last night, and now you want me today? It's wrong!"

"But-"

"But nothing! I won't be subject to your fickle desire, Alex! I'm not a toy and this isn't a game: you can't just fuck your sister and pretend like it's nothing."

At that my sister swam away and stormed up the beach to her towel, wrapping it around her and lying down behind the chairs, where my view to her was obscured. I remained in the water, seething. The little tease! How could she behave as she did last night, wear what she was wearing today, and then call me fickle and storm off?

If the drive to the beach was awkward, the drive home was excruciating. My parents chatted away happily while my sister and I stared out our respective windows in silence. Anger abated, I considered what my sister had said: "you can't fuck your sister and pretend like it's nothing". I didn't want to pretend it was nothing. It was everything; it was a passion that consumed my soul; to pretend it was nothing was life negating! But I did not simply want to fuck my sister, did I? I loved her, more than brotherly love, I was certain. Why couldn't she understand that? Why couldn't I understand her?

For the second time in as many days I had blue balls, again caused by my sister. Licentious thoughts haunted my afternoon. My sister's skimpy bikini and the way it was tight across her pussy causing a cameltoe came to mind, as did her luscious breasts and the heat of her body as I held her against me in the water. At the same time, I understood the damage I had already done to our relationship. The further I went, the further we went, the more difficult it would to normalise until finally we would reach the point of no return and slide into the abyss. I longed for the abyss.

*

That weekend I made it my purpose to make up with my sister, make out with my sister, and then make love to my sister. Nothing else would do at this point. Waking from a lubricious dream on Saturday morning, before breakfast I sat at my desk and considered my plan of attack.

First, I needed my sister to forgive and forget. To this end I cooked her breakfast in bed. Aware that I could hardly make my sister breakfast without also making breakfast for my parents, I worked away diligently and delivered my parents a meal - to their delight - before taking food upstairs on a tray. My sister liked Spanish omelette and strong coffee, so that's what I brought her. I knocked once and went in, finding my sister's nightdress had ridden up her body in the night, leaving her curvy butt bare to my hungry eyes. However, that wasn't the object of my visit. I coughed, she woke, and I handed the tray when she was ready like a good butler.

"For you, sis."

She peered at me and at the food. "Not poisoned, is it?"

I chuckled. "My cooking isn't that bad."

"Humph, I'll be the judge of that," she mumbled.

This wasn't the joyous reception I had hoped for. I better have done a good job on the omelette.

"Are you going to stand there and watch me eat?"

I left her room. Ah well, I guess I couldn't expect too much: it'd have to be pretty damn heavenly food for her to open her legs for me on account of an omelette. Fortunately, there was more to my plan. I'd chalk that phase up as a success.

Second, I needed my sister horny. I expected this would be the most difficult part of the plan, seeing as I could hardly force her to watch pornography and I didn't have quite the physique to be a male stripper. However, I did have intelligence in my favour and everyone knows the brain is the sexiest organ. Specifically, I knew my sister liked lingerie and I knew that she liked shopping. If the breakfast in bed had done its job, she might even forgive me long enough to let me take her to the mall, including a stop at Silk & Satin, the local lingerie and intimate apparel store. What's more, if my theorising was not deluded, wearing skimpy clothing turned my sister on. This was a case where my prurience of her sexual proclivities might pay off in spades.

By mid-morning we were wandering around the mezzanine of the mall. Jen was in a better mood to my relief. I made sure that we walked past the lingerie store a couple of times before casually asking if she wanted to look inside. Of course, casually asking if one's sister wants to look at and buy lingerie isn't really possible, but she consented all the same, perhaps willing to humour me at my dime. Remembering that she'd admitted to getting horny at the thought of my own voyeuristic arousal, I was more than happy to oblige with the cash.

We entered the store. It was small, with a few mannequins and racks of bikinis, brassieres, garter belts and even some kinkier items in the corner, including a top-bottom combination with slits that would no doubt reveal the nipples and pussy. I swallowed at the thought, but my sister looked instead to more conventional garments. Aware that I was out of place in a store exclusively for women's intimate apparel, I sat on a chair in the corner and idly played around on my phone, stealing glances at my sister as she browsed the racks, the store clerk at her side eager to help. After a few minutes she had picked some garments to try on, giving me a coy wink as she stepped into the try-on room at the back. I felt myself getting hard. The wink was sure proof of my plan's success.

The two staffers at the counter were staring at me, probably wondering what relation I was to the most stunning blond to have ever entered their store. While I did share some physical similarities with my sister, the fact that we were siblings wasn't immediately obvious. We were both tall and blond (my sister's hair golden and mine paler), but there the similarities ended - in this sense we could be any two Scandinavians. I was pale and she lightly tanned. I had green eyes, hers piercing, pale blue. Most importantly, I was plain and she gorgeous. The thought that I might be mistaken for her boyfriend, and the envy that would arouse in others, excited me.

Presently my sister reappeared from the small room at the back, waving me over.

"How do I look?" she asked.

What a question! Simply seeing her and my Rockwell hardness rating jumped to about HRC65 - which is to say, an obvious tent formed in my pants and I was glad that my back was turned to the clerks.

"Oh, I see," licking her glossy, succulent lips.

I'd never seen such an erotic sight as that before me. My sister wore long, sheer black stockings attached to a diaphanous garter belt which gripped her waist and accentuated her lean, ballerina-like figure. My eyes were drawn to the semi-transparent black and red panties, which had a floral pattern concealing her most intimate parts, hinting at but not quite revealing the secrets lying beneath. Then her breasts, so enticingly covered in a lacy bra that emphasised their natural size and cleavage, again without exposing too much but leaving me to yearn for more. My sister smiled at my transfixion and then span around, giving me a tantalising view of her back, before skipping back into the booth.

The mesmerising scene ended, I readjusted my crotch area and shuffled back to my seat, careful to keep my back turned to the staff as much as possible. Finally my sister returned from cubicle, once again in her knee-length skirt and blouse.

"Will you buy them for me?" she asked.

How could I refuse? I walked to the counter with her and the cashier carefully scanned each item and placed it in a fancy cloth bag with the store's logo, S&S, monogrammed on the side. I knew that my bank account was in for a beating as I handed the woman my card.

"Your boyfriend is a very lucky man," the woman commented.

My sister blushed and smiled. "Yes, he is."

I was thrilled that my sister had not corrected the cashier. My bank account half emptied and my card returned, the lady handed me the bag and winked.

"Enjoy," the other clerk said as we left.

The second stage was complete: if my intuition was worth a damn, a rousing success, in more ways than one. My plan was going swimmingly. It was possible that I could be rutting away in her by nightfall, if I played my cards right. However, I didn't want to rush it and risk provoking the same reaction as yesterday at the beach. So, I commenced the third phase of my plan: getting my sister drunk - or, at least, tipsy.

Drinking is not something we did often at home. Not that my parents minded greatly now that my sister and I were both adults, but we'd normally go out rather than sit about in our rooms swigging vodka like alcoholics. However, my motivations would be transparent if I took my sister out, particularly given her last clubbing experience, so instead I suggested a movie after dinner. My parents were dining with friends at a fancy restaurant and I was in charge of cooking again. While I could manage an omelette, I went with pizza delivery instead of risking culinary disaster. As the opening scene of our rom-com started, I opened a bottle of white.

"Here, have a glass," I said.

My sister was curled up on the other end of the couch from me, still dressed casually in a skirt and blouse. I peeked to see if she was wearing a bra - she was, to my disappointment. Within an hour we were both two glasses down. For me that was pretty minimal inebriation-wise, but I hoped that my much lighter sister would be feeling the effects.

"More?" I asked.

She shook her head. I put the bottle back down and lay into the couch. One benefit of size (and masculinity) is being able to match and, if necessary, exceed the drinking of other, smaller, people. I'm no big drinker, never have been, but I had a substantial size advantage over my sister, so I was content to let the alcohol of two generous wine glasses have its way with her. My estimations were correct. My sister unbuttoned the top of her blouse, mumbling a complaint about the heat. A few minutes later she stretched her legs, resting her feet and lower calves over my thighs.

I've never understood foot fetishists, but seeing my sister's delicate feet, with bright red painted toenails, I had an idea. I gently placed my hands on her right foot and started rubbing, softly pressing one hand into the arch of her foot while stroking her lower calf with the other. At first she squirmed before relaxing into the massage I was giving her. I could see the tension leave her legs.

"That's nice," she murmured.

After a little while I switched my attentions to her other foot, lavishing it with the same gentle touch. I did not look at my sister's face, but I could feel her expressions flow down her body and through the palms of my hands. Emboldened, I inched my way up her calves, keeping my hands in tender action. Although I noticed that her knees and thighs had parted invitingly, I did not reach up her thighs, instead contenting myself with her calves, which were muscular and bearing little fat, testament to her fitness. They were lean muscles, like a dancer's, not burly like a bodybuilder, and I enjoyed sliding my hands over my sister's delightfully smooth, hairless skin, illuminated only by the glow of the TV. I could do this for hours, I thought: to simply be there, touching her, having her enticingly close and real and mine.

Eventually I felt movement in her calves, as if my rubbing them had brought them to life. First it was almost imperceptible as her right foot began rubbing up and down my thigh, approaching but not reaching my hardening shaft. Then her movements became more confident and she used her toes and the ball of her foot to stroke me. At last she came in contact with my stiffness. Her toes paused in their wriggling, as if a child testing the water, before continuing. I continued rubbing her calves in hope that this would prompt further pleasurable advances and was not disappointed. Without ever looking at her feet or my crotch, my sister's deftly caressed me through my pants. Jen used her big toe to circle around the top of my sensitive cockhead, eliciting a moan of pleasure on my part. It was a teasing delectation, full of promise yet unable to truly gratify. I wanted more.

With libidinous glee I slid my hand up past my sister's knees, lightly brushing her thighs. My fingertips circled and danced across her skin, creating swirling patterns and eliciting another blissful moan as they approached the hem of her skirt and slipped under it. My sister was warm, almost glowing with her heat as my hand stroked her inner thighs. It felt so wrong, so perverted and dirty and forbidden, but my straining cock and moaning sister told a different story. It took all my restraint not to pounce onto her and plunder my sister's hot, wet snatch. But that was not my plan, at least not yet. I wanted her to lose herself to arousal first, to make her commit fully to our incestuous urges. She needed to be an active participant in our sordidness.

I withdrew my hand from her thighs and gently picked up my sister's foot, bringing it to my lips. As I lavished her dainty foot with kisses I was rewarded with a stunning view up her legs to her shadowy pubis, where her white panties were visible in the low light. My cockhead twitched wildly as my sister's left foot traced circles around it. Greedily inhaling my sister's light floral bouquet, I saw that her face was now quite flushed and her breathing short. It delighted me that my touch could affect my sister in this way.

"You're missing the movie, doofus," she breathed.

I chuckled. The film was coming to an end and I wondered if the spell that held us in licentious heaven would end with the roll of the credits. Maybe I needed to work faster. I surreptitiously unzipped my fly and lowered my pants to my ankles, freeing my cock to spring up and stand tall. My sister gasped and withdrew her feet. Had I gone too far? Jen moved - I feared for an instant that she might run away - and then scooted over on the couch so her shoulder was against mine. I turned my head to face her but before I could act she planted a kiss on my lips. As I'd imagined, they were soft and succulent. My heart fluttered and I felt my pulse in my neck. Her perfume was in my nostrils. After the brief instant of our first kiss she withdrew.

"This is so wrong. You're my little brother!"

Her tone was not disgust, but rather heavy with arousal. Not taking any risks, I moved in for another kiss before she could reconsider. I opened my lips this time and cautiously slipped the tip of my tongue forward, seeking out hers for a proper smooch. Meanwhile, I put an arm around her back and my palm on her left breast. She moaned, our lips still locked, and I felt her return the kiss with her own tongue, pressing her chest out slightly so that her full breast filled my hand. I felt her hand on my thigh then on my pulsating shaft. Waves of pleasure spread through me as my sister pulled up and down, jerking my cock. We broke the kiss, each panting.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she whispered into my ear. "Oh Christ, your cock is big!"

I beamed at the compliment. I was indeed well endowed at around seven inches and a solid girth, but to hear my sister say it, her slender fingers wrapped around my erection, was rapturous. I pulled my polo off in a rush. As she pulled me into further bliss, I fiddled with the buttons on her blouse, eager to undress her and uncover her shapely bosom.

"You're brilliant, my magnificent, sexy sister!" I replied, now short of breath.

I wanted desperately to get a good grip on my sister and squeeze her tits. Finally I fumbled down to her last button. My sister was concentrating on my throbbing cock with both of her hands. Her strokes were now rapid and I felt my orgasm approaching. I was eager not to ejaculate over her hands and my belly, so I pulled away and got her out of her blouse, the interruption of attention to my quivering rod enough to cool my heat, delaying what would have been a messy climax.

"Fuck," I groaned.

I unclasped her bra and discarded it on the floor, my sister's tits finally bare and free to touch. They were luscious, her nipples hard and proud on her perky breasts. I wanted to lick and suck and squeeze and snuggle in her breasts all at once. My sister lay back into the couch and I moved on top of her, planting my knee between her legs, my cock pointing obscenely at her crotch. With my hands on the couch for support, I lowered my hungry mouth to her nipples and sucked one then the other, my tongue playfully flicking the tips of the little pink bullets. She tasted glorious, fleshy and real. Her hot lean body shuddered at my lustful touch.

"Oh, Alex! This is so naughty, you depraved little boy!" she exclaimed as I pulled up her skirt above her hips and started rubbing her slit through the panties.

Her words pushed me on. I wanted her everything all at once. My cock was hard and longing for her touch or, better yet, her hot, wet mouth. I was dizzy with desire, eager to lick her nipples, grope her cunny, and kiss her again, on her lips, on her pussy - everywhere! My sister's hands were sliding up and down her body and my chest, unfocussed.

I pushed her panties to one side and felt her hot wet slit. She was slick with the honey of her arousal as I rubbed the length of her slit with my fingers before focussing on her clit. She groaned at the combined effect of the attention her clit and nipples were receiving. Slipping an exploratory digit into her wet lovehole elicited a gasp. Her moist folds opened to my probing finger and her quim trembled, delighting me with her moisture. I withdrew my finger and brought it to my lips to taste her juice. The scent was familiar from prior experience with her panties, but far stronger and much better, my sister's musk driving me wild. I licked my finger clean, savouring the salty-sweetness of her arousal, then returned it to her hot snatch. My sister was now clasping my cock again, pulling back and forth. I clenched my jaw.

"I want you, sis. I want to be in you," I groaned.

She nodded and I lowered onto her and guided my cockhead to her cunny, moistening it first on her slick slit. I put my fingers in her mouth and let her lick and suck them and then applied her saliva to my throbbing member.

"Do it," she whispered. "Fuck me, fuck your sister."

That was all the encouragement I needed. The sheer debauchedness of those incestuous words ignited a fire in my soul. I thrust forward, too needy to take the first entry slowly. My sister's cunt spread around my girth as I shoved in. We both moaned as her slick, velvety tightness gripped me.

"God, you're tight sis! And wet. And hot. Your pussy is amazing," I groaned between thrusts.

I drove in deeply and purposefully, plundering her slick, snug cunt. If she hadn't already been soaking wet I doubted she could take me this deep or this quickly. Clearly she was horny and as needy as me. After so much teasing and playing, I felt my cum boiling and the rapid clenching and unclenching of my jaw was insufficient to hold off my orgasm forever. Feeling my sister's rippling cunny around my throbbing cock had me panting and pumping as fast as I could. For her part, my sister was rising to meet me each time, her hips gyrating against mine, sending greater waves of pleasure into my sensitive shaft.

"I'm going to cum, sis! Where, where?" I growled.

My sister's breath was short, her face and body flush with heat. I noticed perspiration had formed between her glowing tits, which excited me. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her fingers were frigging her clit vigorously, just millimetres from my cock as it pounded in and out of her cunt. I couldn't hold off forever, her pussy was clenching my cock like a vice. Then I felt a rippling sensation around me and my sister squealed her orgasm. It was too much. I thrust another two short thrusts and then drove as deeply into my sister's tight cunny as I could. I came deep in her, spurt after spurt of hot cum splashing into her folds.

Christ!" she exclaimed, feeling my cum surging into her.

As my climax subsided, I pumped in and out her a few more times, revelling in the sensation of my creamy seed deep within my sister's love channel.

"You came in me! My brother came in me!"

I smiled and fell into her arms, my softening cock still in her. Her breasts pressed against my bare chest. Never had I felt anything as euphoric as being within my sister's snug, creamy cunt. My prior albeit limited sexual experience paled into nothingness next to the ecstasy of fucking her. We lay in the afterglow of our orgasms, our bodies close and hot, my sister pushed into the couch under my weight. Finally I pushed myself up off her and slid my cock from her slick hole, watching as my white cum oozed out, contrasting with the pinkness of her slit. My sister was silent, her icy blue eyes fixed on the same sight as me. She slipped her fingers into her cunny and rubbed the creaminess of my cum. After bringing some to her lips and licking her fingers seductively, she pulled her white lacy panties back over her oozing pussy. I watched, lightheaded, as the fabric darkened. A wry smile danced on my lips as I noted that these panties had tasted my cream before.