The Sisters

The young girl knew she was the cause of my erection and was doing her best to enjoy it. Flaunting a half-naked tit at me. Coming out with remarks with a double meaning, one of course very suggestive. Touching my face and chest with slow, dragging fingertips. Brushing a casual hand over my crotch when no one was looking. And now the music had started with me caught in a corner between her, a wall, and the sofa.

The music was one of those tunes that start slow and turn into a heavy beat like that one from the movie Flashdance that exercise classes like to use. She exploited the long, slow introduction to mash her crotch against me, holding me in place by the hips and grinding slowly. When the tempo picked up, she changed her stance and her movement; with wide hips she banged her pelvis to mine again and again. If we hadn't been sort of fully dressed, we could have been fucking. I couldn't push her away. The only escape seemed to be an inelegant fall and dive over the back of the sofa. I quite seriously considered it.

But let's go back to the beginning of sorts. It was a Thursday evening party, Jenny's birthday party in fact. She turned twenty three and one of the girls with whom she shared the rent on a small house, her best friend Amy, had arranged this surprise party. Nothing fancy or formal; both girls were working and between steady fellows at the time. The guest list consisted basically of their common friends, fellow employees, and a number of single, unattached males who could be conscripted on the promise of free booze and a chance to get lucky. I was one of them; I'd gone out with Amy for a short time. Loretta, the third girl who shared the house, was away visiting family.

The party was good but not great. Most people knew some of the others at least casually. The surprise thing came off well. Booze and beer and wine flowed; people mingled and talked; finger food was passed around.

I had offered my best wishes to the birthday girl, chatted with Amy, of course, and swapped lies with a guy I'd gone to school with. He tried to impress me with his sales ideas but I wasn't buying. I removed myself from his space.

Some sort of music had been playing in the back ground but someone changed it to dance tunes. And that was when the girl cornered me.

To be polite about it, she didn't seem to fit. This bunch was pretty straight forward, employed, in their early to mid twenties. She looked much younger. I watched her slink towards me like a jungle cat. Short black hair with a wide cobalt blue streak. Thick- soled Doc Martin calf-high boots. Pale naked legs and arms. A skirt that almost covered her ass with the side slit turned to the front to show brief flashes of underwear that matched the color in her hair.

The T-shirt she wore might have been white once. It was now covered by splashes of paint, esoteric symbols and inscriptions, probable food and bodily fluid stains. More than prominent was a tear from the right shoulder to just about the hem in the middle. Whenever it flapped it exposed what lay beneath. A well-formed right breast, of course. And no brassiere.

I don't know how long she'd been there before she approached me, nor do I have any idea why she picked me. Her eyes seemed to stay locked to mine; her breast and undies flashed blatantly as she drew nearer. As I turned away from my unsuspecting schoolmate, she slid into the space that opened.

"You're Matt." It was not a question. I nodded.

"I'm a friend of Amy's, I know Jenny through her, she invited me to the birthday party."

The face before me sort of sneered. "Mickey. Jen's sister."

I took her at her word; I didn't know Jenny well enough to be acquainted with her family. So, she has a younger sister. So, the sister seems to have a rebellious streak. And for some unknown reason, she's here at this party. Probably uninvited.

She stepped into me, much closer than polite and somewhat uncomfortable, to tell the truth. I'm not the most outgoing guy but girls don't usually scare me. This one almost did.

She hooked her left hand into the belt at my waist; no, the belt and waistband of my trousers. I could feel her fingers against the skin of my abdomen. What seemed to be a cunning grin played around the corners of her mouth. Calculating eyes remained fixed on mine as she seemed to make some sort of appraisal.

Uneasily I cleared my throat. "Hello, Mickey. Pleasure to meet you," I lied.

She shrugged, didn't take her eyes off my face. The movement exposed her breast, lovely and pale and round. My glance immediately dropped down, caught not only by that near perfection but also the gleam of a shiny miniature barbell that pierced the thick dark nipple. Her eyes remained focused on my face, saw the way my tongue licked at my lips in a nervous gesture. Her free hand slowly pulled the fabric back over the exposed breast, then slowly came up to touch my face.

"Like it?"

I couldn't tell if she meant the breast or the piercing. I didn't answer. She grinned at my evident embarrassment, then brazenly added to it.

"If you were the only finger in this room ..." she tapped the middle finger of her hand against my nose, " who would you want to be stuck up?"

"Go on. You're much to young to ..."

"Eighteen years and eighteen weeks. And an award-winning mouth." She puckered up and made a kissy sound in front of my face, followed that with a nasty chuckle.

I tried to step away from her and realized just how cornered I was. She curved her body from her knees to her breasts against me, hot contact at chest, belly, groin.

"If you're willing, I'm available." She twisted slightly and again that breast was exposed. This time we both looked at it, the pale roundness, the hardness of that erect nipple, the gleam of its chrome piercing. This time she made no move to cover herself.

"Let's go somewhere and fuck."

That's when someone turned up the CD player and the Flashdance tune started. Both her hands grabbed my belt and the waistband of my trousers. I could feel her knuckles digging into my skin as she ground her pelvis slowly and forcefully against me. My genitalia reacted as could be expected. Then that forceful thumping beat began and her movement changed. No longer the round swirling motion; instead, a harsh physical banging together.

If we hadn't been clothed, we would have been fucking our brains out in the corner of the room.

We did not go unnoticed.

My mind was so intent on escaping or alleviating this uninvited involvement that I could not say exactly what happened or how it happened. The space in front of me exploded into a whirling mass of noise and body parts. One moment later this instant storm had swiftly moved into the nearby bathroom. I could make out two female voices hurling insults and epithets and bodies stumbling or being pushed around in a confined space.

I looked at the other people in the room with me. They weren't paying attention to what was happening in the bathroom; they were all watching me as if I was the prime mover of this drama.

Sheepishly I held out my hands and shrugged my shoulders. As discreetly as possible I edged out of the room, into the kitchen.

Epithets and occasional thuds still emanated from the bathroom. "Sleazy slut" and "two- faced whore" seemed to dominate the loud dispute.

Amy, our hostess, joined me in the kitchen and offered a reassuring touch.

"Sorry about that, Matt. I understand the family has been having some problems with Michelle. We didn't expect her here; she never indicated any interest. We'll just let Jenny take care of it, OK?" She wrapped me in a comforting hug, and for a moment I thought of the closeness we never did have together.

We stood there pretending to make conversation, but both of us were intent on the developments in the bathroom as we could hear and interpret them. The voices subsided to an occasional murmur. No one from the front of the house came back to the kitchen. I made drinks for both Amy and myself. Slowly things turned back to near normal. The two sisters vacated the bathroom. Amy led me back to the living room where the party continued, although slightly muted. Michelle (or Mickey as she had introduced herself to me) slouched on a corner of the sofa; most of the others tried to avoid her. Jenny, as the birthday girl, tried to be cheerful but her sister continued to glower at her.

Jenny seemed to be paying more attention to me than would be usual. I thought that she was either staking her claim to me in face of the competition or she was protecting me from the devious schemes her sister might have concocted, always within arm's length.

She got the chance to get me alone in the kitchen and apologized for her sister's behavior. She had called home, learned that her father had thrown Michelle out of the house again, promised her mother to look after her sister for a day or so, until her father's temper cooled.

"I'll do my best to keep her out of your hair, Matt." Neither of us needed to mention that it was my pants she wanted to get into, not my hair.

I spent the rest of the evening with Jenny. Dancing with Jenny when she wanted to dance. Hanging on Jenny's arm when she was chatting with others. Helping Jenny bring food out of the kitchen, provide drinks for the guests who requested them. Only once, as far as I remember, was I out of her sight. She did not take me into the bathroom with her.

Those two minutes were an eye opener. No sooner had Mickey realized her sister was absent than she was on her feet and moving toward me, smiling. She softly took me by the arm.

"Don't believe everything my sister might say about me. You know there's always another side to every story. No matter what she says, I wouldn't do anything to harm you. I like you."

She stayed away from direct contact, just gazing into my eyes and never glancing away. She touched me, her fingers running along my wrist, my fingers, the palm of my hand. It was so suggestively erotic, I shivered.

Suddenly Mickey slipped back to her previous perch and the temperature in the room seemed to turn cooler. Jenny was back and had seen.

The party began to break up soon after that. I was beside Jenny as she wished people goodnight and offered her thanks. I made noises to leave also but Jenny would hear none of it. During a pause in the departures, she approached her sister and they talked, keeping their voices down. Jenny returned and we bade the last few goodnight.

"You're not going home, you're staying," she told me. "Here. With me. Tonight. Michelle is staying in Loretta's room. You're sleeping with me."

Now I could see no good reason why I shouldn't go. I'd had a few drinks but not enough to impair. I tried to protest.

Jenny would have none of it. She glared at me, with a slight nod in Mickey's direction. I got the idea. She was afraid that if I left, her sister would find a way to leave and corner me if for no other reason than to get back at Jenny. Thus the invitation to her bed, I suppose. I hadn't expected anything to come from this evening anyway.

I spent time in the kitchen, helping Amy clean up. We were quiet enough to hear Jenny forcefully explain the arrangements with her sister, but not the words used. I can only imagine.

"He's mine. He's in my bed tonight. You had better settle in Loretta's room and stay there. Keep your fucking hands off Matt. And try to keep your dirty mind off him, too." At least words to that effect. With some sort of threat, real or implied.

When that deal had been settled to her satisfaction, she came into the kitchen to direct me. I could sense the cold anger tight under her outward appearance.

"Use the bathroom while it's free. The flowered towel is for guests. Sorry we have nothing you can sleep in, nothing suitable that fits. I'll be with you when I can."

Somehow, it didn't sound promising. I felt that my chances to get laid had just plummeted from a certainty to less than one in twenty. I got ready and crawled into her bed. I considered keeping my underwear on, but didn't. I did leave the bedside lamp on.

The ten or more minutes I waited for her didn't do one little thing to ease the turmoil in my mind. I seemed to be caught in a power struggle between the two sisters.

* * *

When she did come in, she was wearing a thick terry-cloth robe with nothing visible underneath it, but before taking it off and before she slid in between the sheets, she turned out the lamp. Her emotional turmoil and her tenseness formed a cold impenetrable wall between us. Any glimmer of hope that might be cause for an erection died almost instantly.

I lay on my back and tried to relax. With my eyes closed, palms flat on the mattress, I breathed slowly and evenly, willing all turmoil to leave my mind and body. I seemed to be succeeding until I felt the bed tremble with little shakes. She was sobbing silently.

I reached out a hand toward her. It came to rest on her hip, below the elbow held snug against her waist. All that did was prove she wasn't wearing a nightgown of any sort. Or panties.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

In the dark I turned onto my side facing her. There was probably a foot and a half of space between us, like spoons in separate compartments in the same drawer. I took my hand away and began to stroke her gently along the back of her neck and on her shoulder, barely touching her.

"Stop it. I said don't touch me."

"Sometimes we need to be touched, like a lonely kitten needs to be petted, like a child needs to be hugged. It expresses concern and care much more than any words can," I murmured.

I continued to run my fingertips over the muscles and tendons knotted in her neck and shoulder, a gesture that was neither massage nor caress. I felt her breathing become just a little more even. We continued like that for long minutes.

I didn't expect it. She shifted suddenly and wound up snuggled on her side against me, her head on my shoulder, shoulder in my armpit, her body solid against my side. Her small breasts pressed against my ribcage; her upper leg fell between mine. My cock began to rise.

Again I began to stroke her neck and shoulder with the thumb and ball on one hand but she shook her head in the dark.

"Keep your hands to yourself. Let me do this."

Once more she made a sudden shift and ended with her body covering mine.

She pulled the twisted sheets off our bodies and pushed them to the floor with her feet. She slid her hands under my shoulders. Her breasts snuggled between our ribs. Her thighs, knees, and feet rested to the outside of mine. Her pelvis trapped my tumescent cock between our bellies. Her head was raised over mine; in the dark I could not see her face.

"Matt. I am going to fuck you. I need to fuck you."

With her face against the side of mine and our chests still pressed together, she shifted onto her knees. The move freed my cock to grow to even greater stiffness. Her lips found mine. Her tongue forced its way between my lips, then backed away.

"Just let me do it all, O. K? Just me."

Her right hand snaked down below our waists and grabbed my hard cock. She slowly slid it along the outside of her labia, in the creases between her pussy and her thighs. Then she spread her legs wider and brought it back along the inside. I could feel the softness of the inner lips and the moisture she was beginning to secrete. She pushed the head of my cock against her still-hooded clitoris, shivered for a moment, then aimed and pushed herself down over my cock. It entered smoothly, as if coming home. We both released breath we hadn't realized we were holding.

"Ah," she said. "Mmmmm. Don't move."

I felt her insides contract around me, release and contract again. For an instant I was reminded of milking machines on my grandfather's farm when I was a kid and wondered if there were special muscles to use, to develop to manage this. I tried to wrap my arms around her and hold her close. She pushed her body off mine, held herself almost horizontal, parallel to me. Her hands were planted firm on the mattress at my shoulders; her knees were spread wider than my hips. The only place, the only way we were connected was through my cock and her pussy. She hunched her hips up and down in a steady manner, as if working toward an end.

I reached for her arms, to run my hands up to her chest to hold and fondle her breasts. She stopped all movement.

"Stop. I don't want you to touch me while I fuck you."

I realized that this was her show, that she was doing this while keeping any emotion under strict control, denying any intimacy to the act. I could either lie back and try to remain as clinically uninvolved as she was or turn this into a mass of anger, spite, hatred and overblown emotion with which neither one of us was prepared to deal. So, I sacrificed what little pride I retained for her welfare.

With only minimal contact, we fucked. Or, rather, she fucked me. I lay there rigid with my arms spread and my legs together tight. She was poised over me on four points, hands and knees. The only motion, unseen in the dark room, was the ever quickening hunching of her pussy on the tip of my cock.

I heard her gasp, then felt the ring of the entrance to her vagina tighten around my cock. Most of it remained outside her immediate grasp but it felt as if the head was being twisted and tickled by a hundred little fingers. She whimpered as the quivering became a fierce and almost violent pulsing that seemed to rack her whole body. I couldn't see what was happening and automatically I reached to enfold her, to pull her closer into me.

Wrong idea. I think she cursed. I know she rolled frantically off the bed. I do not know if the blow she sent my way was aimed nor whether, if so, it was aimed at my head or my cock. An unseen but vicious karate chop caught me in the solar plexus. I lost my breath, any concern for her, all interest in sex for the time being.

When I got myself together I was alone and still in the dark in a silent house. I felt around to gather up the bed clothes, tried to ignore the brick of pain in my gut, and yearned for sleep. It finally came.

* * *

I almost didn't believe the way I woke the next morning. A solemn Jenny was sitting on the side of the bed, primly covered in a voluminous terry cloth robe. I don't know what time it was; light was streaming through the window so I quickly closed my eyes again. I smelled coffee and breakfast.

"Do you have to be anywhere early this morning, Matt? If you want to get up and have breakfast, I'll drive you to work or whatever."

I'm a teaching assistant at the college; I didn't have anything pressing until noon today, thank God. I muttered something and tried to bury myself in non-existent covers. I felt her get off the bed and walk to the door.

"Matt? I'm sorry for last night. I shouldn't let Michelle get to me that way."

I grunted again. Of course I didn't hold her responsible for her sister's actions. But still.

"And to take it out on you when you were trying to be nice and understanding and everything."

I didn't hear her come back again. Suddenly I felt her slide onto the bed, stretch out beside me, onto me. She had removed the robe. She was naked. I tried to open my eyes.

"I locked the bedroom door. Let me make it up to you."

She reached down and took my cock in her hand. The morning light lay warm on her back as she bent over me and took it into her mouth. Suddenly I was awake and not dreaming. I held her head with one hand, slipped the other under her waist and felt for her breasts, then moved to her pussy. She moaned and I felt the vibration of her voice around my cock. It was beginning to throb.

"Jenny. Jenny, please?"

She let my cock slip from between her lips, raised her head and looked at me. She read the request in my eyes and voice.