This was the first summer both my sister and I were going to be home from college. I was just over my sophomore year and sis was one year younger finishing her freshman year. The annual tradition was a summer vacation and because we were both home dad was going to resume the tradition.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Nothin.” She was hiding something.
“For the trip?”
“Maybe.” Sara turned, holding the bag behind her back swinging herself back and forth.
“Dad told you where we’re going didn’t he?”
She smiled, “He might of.”
“Tell me. Just tell me.” And I turned from my books.
“Do the dishes.”
“No.” I threw myself back in my seat. “I can just wait for dad.” She knew I did NOT want to wait.
“Ok then,” shrugging her shoulders, holding her lower lip out, and she started to walk away.
And she turned.
“Do the dishes, and I’ll do something else for you.” She was being sweet and pouty, a great skill she had developed.
I just looked at her.
She continued in a sing song voice, “If I do it, you’ll know where we are going.”
“Ok. Ok. Dishes,” I said.
And she ran out of the room.
I yelled after her. “You didn’t tell me!”
All I heard was “WAIT!”
After about fifteen minutes, I had started reading my book again, She came back out.
“It’s . . .” I stared at her, ” . . . a bathing suit!” And she put her hands to her hips, turned to the side, head tilted so her hair hung over one shoulder, smiling at me.
My twenty year old sister was modeling her new swim suit for me. It was very Red, and very very Small. There were just strings at the sides, little ties at each hip bone. The bottoms were the smallest little triangle, and when she turned, no more than an inch covering her backside. I could see the whole curve of her ass. I took in her narrow waist, the muscles of her shoulders, the curve of her hips, the flat of her tummy centered with a little tear drop navel, narrowing to a little space between her long legs. I loved the look of red against her soft white skin, her long dark hair tusseled and falling about her face, red lips, white teeth smiling at me. In that moment, that image of her was permanently etched in my brain.
When did she start looking so hot!
I sat up in my chair, staring. Oogling more like. I could not stop looking at her.
She smiled and faced me, then turning, looking over her shoulder trying to see her ass.
“Well??” Hands on her hips now.
“I like it.”
“Does it look like it fits?”
“I like it,” was all I could say.
She jumped a little. Excitedly. I could see her breasts tugging at the small fabric with each bounce, the soft swells of flesh at the edges. Her legs were apart, Shit I could see the mound of her pussy. I could see whispy hairs peeking from under her bottoms.
She looked down her front following my eyes and I saw her blush and pull her legs together quickly, and turn her hip to me.
“Sorry, I needed to shave.” Turning from me now, but giving me a perfect view of her ass as she did. She looked back again, embarassment in her eyes, I could tell. But enjoying my reaction.
And then as suddenly as she arrived, ran out of the room yelling, “Dishes!”
“We’re going to Florida,” I yelled after her. “Where?”
“Daytona! And we’re driving.”
I didn’t hear that right.
How it ever happened is beyond me, a curiosity and compulsion that rocked my world. I do know where it started. That simple car trip, three weeks one summer my sister and I together with our parents on our first summer where we were both home after college. We’d never driven for a vacation before, and in the interest of saving money dad decided that we would ‘hoof it.’ We didn’t object.
The plan was that at each hotel, we would reserve two rooms one with a double bed for mom and dad, and another with two double beds for sis and myself. I remember this seeming just a little weird but really it was no big deal, that wasn’t it. Though, the first night had its moments since we watched TV on the one bed, Sara in her long T shirt and myself in a pair of boxers.
I asked, “Where’s that bathing suit?”
She responded with her mouth full of food, “In my bag.” She looked sideways at me and smiled, crinkling her nose at me.
“Have you tried it on, since . . .”
She finished my sentence, “. . .I showed you. No.”
“Mmmm.” I kept watching the TV. It felt just a little warm in there.
The evening of the second day driving we were somewhere in Missouri, an unbelievable hot muggy day, and we had to stop earlier than planned due to the car ‘acting up’ a little. The hotel had only one room, with two double beds. So this night it would be mom and dad in one bed, and sis and I in the other. The room was small, and there were four of us sweaty, red and hot.
The cars cooling system was not working properly so dad, in an effort to save the engine, not only had to turn off the air conditioning, but he had to blast the heat into the car. It was 100 degrees with the heater going. While we sat in the back seat sweating buckets, my sister and I were so uncomfortable we could barely stand it. Our legs were sticking to the seat. Whenever we stopped the air would still in the car, heat blasting us, it was suffocating. And I could smell Sara, her body’s scent was sweet, better than I had ever remembered for whatever reason. I could feel myself getting slightly aroused even just from the smell of her. Like cinnamon dust, fleshy and earthy, wet, the occasional smell of sex.
I would look over at her shining neck and know that my finger could slide along its lubricated surface, down past her collar bone, drops of moisture running down into her top, between her breasts. She had a half top on, and I could see her shining stomach, wet with sweat, lines of sweat running into her tight faded jean shorts, buttons at the fly. No bra. Her face was flushed, lips swollen, red from the heat. She sat with one leg up, her knee sticking to the back of the seat. I would glance over looking at the crotch of her shorts. . .at her thighs, her shining legs . . . her bare feet, painted toes.
I’d close my eyes, slide myself away to the half open window, press my head to the glass. Let the air tossel my hair, feeling the beat of my heart.
The ‘thing’ happened that day.
Because of the car, we did not reach our destination, had to stop, still 400 miles short that day, and arrived at a hotel for which we had no reservation. This was great, just great. We had passed two other hotels because they were full. When dad came out, he was smiling.
“Good News! They have a room, but just one. It has two double beds. Looks like you two need to share.”
“No big deal.” I shrugged. She glanced at me.
She just said, “Is it air conditioned?”
That night Sara wore the same long T shirt, I the same pair of grey boxers. We were all showered now, exhausted but clean, scented, air conditioned and laying on ‘our’ bed. The covers were still in place, and I was stealing glances, first at my parents, and then my sister. We were tired, bone tired, but I could feel my heart race slightly as we pulled back the sheets and from each side of the bed slid in. As the blanket pulled up over Sara’s hips I could see her T ride up slightly, giving me a brief glimpse of her thighs and the soft curve of her ass. The warmth of the bed increased, I could feel the heat emanating from her side, the smell of her washed hair, and I placed my nose beneath the sheets – her scent again. I was happy, this was wonderful. It would never happen again.
We turned the lights out and I lay awake for the longest time, my eyes felt like they were glowing. Each time she shifted I could feel the bounce of the mattress. When she lay on her side away from me I could feel the sheets move away from me, and would lightly pull them back my way, feeling her shift lightly as I tugged. After awhile, stillness, I could tell she was asleep. The sound of her soft breath. Gradually, slowly I drifted off.
I felt her arm against me and woke immediately, and without moving turned my head to look at the clock, it was 3 AM. Her shoulder was pressed against me and she was laying now on her back. There was a light outside the window shining into the room and I could look over at her in the blue light and see the features of her face. Her hair was thrown up around the pillow, her lips pressed lightly together. Her small nose flaring lightly with each breath. Her head was inclined toward me, and I was no more than a few inches from her mouth, could feel her hair touching my face. Our shoulders were pressed together and I kept my hands on my stomach. The mattress was old and curved in at the middle and probably accounted for our positioning, for I was also not at my edge of the bed. I could have easily slid back over to my side, yet I remained.
The more I thought about where I was, where we were, my heart began racing again. I could feel her exhale against my cheek, the warmth of her. And that smell! I turned myself so that my shoulder was now slightly lower than hers and I was just facing her, not on my side but tilted. And I lay my right hand upon her stomach right over her T shirt, let it rest at the center of her tummy right between her navel and her ribs, just feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. She shifted only slightly at my touch, and I could feel her hairs brushing my ear as she nuzzled lightly against me.
What was I even thinking? Why did I do that? Even just to lay my hand upon her. I was listening to her breath and feeling it at the same time, smelling her soft hair, sensing her warmth, the weight of her shoulder on me. It was so soft and sensual. Simple and silent in the bluish dark room. I had never imagined my sister in an erotic or sensual or sexual way, and now touching her lightly, letting my fingers press down into her abdomen, it was all I could feel. I was suffused with a feeling of pure pleasure.
I was drifting off to sleep again.
I woke about two hours later, and realized my right hand was still on her tummy, the same spot. But then realizing that it was no longer on top of her T shirt, but laying upon her bare skin. I had no idea how the T had ridden up. She had her right arm up over her head and was still on her back, still leaning against me to my left. The room was totally silent, and I simply lay there taking in where I was with every sense I possessed.
As I lay motionless however, I began to move my fingers lightly along her downy soft skin, up and down then the smallest of circles, feeling the light hairs across her middle, and I reached to her left side, letting my fingers curl around her ribs, almost holding her to me, pressing my palm into her. At that moment, she took a deep breath and as she exhaled, took my hand in hers and lifted me off, lay my hand back down beside her. I froze, looking at her. What did she think? I held my breath. It was an accident, I feigned sleep, but after another moment she didn’t move, she was still sleeping. Her breathing hadn’t even changed. The other thing I noticed was that the blanket had been kicked off and we were only covered by a thin white sheet. I could feel that her top was pulled up all the way to just under her breasts, by the bunched up fabric that pressed against me at my side.
And she was still holding my hand, lightly, our fingers intertwined, and I really liked the way it felt. We never had held hands before. I had one other realization. My cock was hard, its tip pressed out the top of my boxers and I could feel myself dripping onto my abdomen. My sisters hand holding mine was right at the side of my hip and because I was turned lightly toward her, the tip of my cock was precariously close to her hand. I lay back a little flatter still holding her hand. I was picturing her beneath the fabric, her soft exposed skin, picturing her hips, her panties, her body right next to mine. The intimacy of our evening, utterly unrepeatable. This would never happen again and I wanted to see her.
So, ever so carefully, I tipped my head under the sheet scootching myself down the bed. The light shined readily through the thin fabric and under the blue light, further shaded by the cotton sheet I could see the soft swell of her tummy, her concave abdomen, her hip bone and the thin fabric – her panties! White, glowing in the low light. I turned slightly for a better view, scrunching just a little lower. Her breathing even, rising and falling. I could see the start of the rise of her breasts, the fabric of the T shirt risen just slightly showing the edges of her breasts, bare skin. I could see where we were holding hands and the tip of my cock poking out the top of my boxers not three inches from her bare thighs. She was so beautiful. It was so warm and the scent of her body enveloped me, the sound of her breathing the rise and fall of her stomach seemed magnified.
I let go her hand and lay my hand once more on her tummy, a little lower this time, covering her abdomen just below her navel. Her breathing was still smooth, slow, rising and falling, still warm, the soft hairs. I could feel the soft downy hairs, coursening lightly to the edge of her panties. My figner tips rubbing the soft white cotton edge.
I felt her hand again take mine, and again lift me off of her and set it back down at her side. I froze, unmoving, holding my breath under the sheet. She squeezed my hand lightly, wrapped her fingers around mine. Her breathing changed slightly. I could not move, hidden under the sheet, such a fool . . . she had to know.
Next moment . . . she let go my hand and . . .
The sheet lifted and I started, her eyes were on me, she looked directly at me and I could barely catch my breath now and my heart raced. What was I doing? What could I say? She noticed how I had jumped when the sheet rose, my eyes were wide, glowing no doubt in the blue light darkness.
She whispered lazily as she stared at me, “What are you doing?” holding the sheet as a tent over me.
And then in this little hermetically sealed world I had created, of scents and warmth, beneath the sheets of our bed and her exposed body she looked around, saw herself – and realized.
She looked at me, a sort of confused and indecipherable smile. And she said it again with a knowing growl, “What are you doing?”
I just stared pathetically up at her. I was so ashamed. She widened her eyes at me, mimicking my own look, “Get up here.” And I lifted myself from beneath the sheet, she letting it fall around us again.
She pulled her T shirt back down around herself, lifted her hips slightly, tugging and moving the T back down around her thighs, and without shifting herself away from me turned her face to me, and simply breathed a very light, “You behave. Go back to sleep.”
I mouthed to her, “I’m sorry. I . . .”
She closed her eyes, lazily sighing, “Hmm, I bet you are,” as she turned herself away from me tugging the sheet as she turned.
But, then reaching back with her hand, gently took my hand in hers. I wanted to be sure she wasn’t mad at me, so I gave her hand a little squeeze, and she gave me the same.
I don’t know what came over me just then, I was so happy that she wasn’t mad, I began to play with her fingers and sort of rub her palm, feeling the skin between her fingers, and she responded in kind rolling on her back again after a moment. We silently lay there holding hands, fondling one another’s fingers until we dozed off to sleep once more.
The next day was going to be one of sitting around and waiting, and Sara woke before me, showered and got dressed, and was sitting on a sofa looking at magazines when I walked over in my boxers and sat down.
She looked at by boxers and then me, “Good morning.”
“Morning” I said back, uncertain.
No acknowledgment of last night, no accusing stares. I was happy.
A normal day.
That afternoon we were bored and just wanted to get away from our folks, and they agreed to let us explore a little. We found this little park area with benches and an outdoor food court. We sat down at an outdoor table, cars going by in the distance, and ate our burgers and sodas in the heat and dust.
“This is pretty long,” Sara yawned and stretched.
“Pretty boring,” I replied.
“Oh, I don’t mind it when we’re driving, I like watching the scenery,” she had this tendency of contradicting me.
“Do you know when we get there?”
“Dad said just two more days once we start again.”
I looked at her, “He tells you everything!”
“What??” She said in mock surprise.
“He told you WHERE we were going before me.”
She smiled and touched her nose, “I asked,” and then reached over patting my hand, “Try it sometime, it works wonders.”
“Here.” I handed her my drink.
She tilted her head back and threw her long hair over her shoulders and settled back in.
“First thing I do when we get there is find the beach, I want SAND between my toes!”
“Ahhh,” I said like a sage
“Bathing Suit,” was all I said, picturing her.
“So? I want sun and water and sand for one whole week. We’ve already lost a day.”
I stared at her.
“Come on. It makes me crazy when you do that.” She was leaning toward me, sipping from my soda.
“It’s only just. When you said that. It’s . . . I picture you in that bathing suit.”
She paused, remembering her show, then smiled.
I continued, “Laying out in the sand. I can picture it, that’s all.”
“Yeah well. . .” And she leaned low and forward looking up at me, “You can probably picture a lot after last night.”
I went beet red.
Then whispering, “You like looking don’t ya!”
“Shhhh,” I looked around. “I didn’t . . .”
She was smiling, playing with the straw, looking daggers at me.
“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t SEE anything.”
“I Bet! Head under the covers,” and she held an imaginary sheet over her head and looking down over her body. “Nope. Nothing!” And she put her hands back down.
I looked around. No one noticing.
There was silence.
She tipped her head down lower, let the edges of her dark hair touch the table top all around.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Blocking the light. Trying to see if I can get it to where it was and see what you saw. There!”
“Stop it!” I looked around again.
And talking down into the table, “Hmm. I think you saw quite a bit,” before she tipped her head back up, with an air. “And Hey! She swatted toward me, “How did my nightshirt get up so high?”
“Shh. Shhh,” and I was ready to get up now. People could hear. I was bright red. So embarrassed. I did not think this would ever come up today.
“I didn’t have. I had nothing to do with THAT. I swear.”
She seemed to sense going to far just then, and in as disarming a voice as possible, “I was just kidding. It was, no big . . .”
I was just staring down at the table now. Ashamed. She knew it.
She softened her voice further. “Jason. It’s no big . . .Jason. Jason! Look at me.”
I looked up.
“Listen. Truth. I sorta liked . . .you know, holding your hand. Having you there. It was nice. I haven’t held anybody’s hand in a long time.”
“Yeah, well, I’m your brother.”
She shrugged. “It’s just hands, And . . .” for a moment her eyes twinkled as she was lifting her hands to look under the imaginary sheet, glancing down and then back at me.
I moved to get up.
“Oh, I won’t go there. Sit.” She shifted in her seat and leaned to me again, “Come on Ok? It was ok. It’s just holding hands. I haven’t . . . I haven’t done a lot of things in quite awhile. . .”
“What? What do you mean?”
” . . . Probably why I liked it.”
I looked up at her.
“You know — THINGS!”
“Oh God. Boys!” Her eyes got big, “That I held hands with boys. Boys. THINGS! With boys. . . Forget it.”