My Little Sister S Visit Ch 06

My Little Sister's Visit

Chapter 6: Cruising College Town

This story takes place in the summer of 1970, a year or so before I met Jean.

There are no cell phones, no personal computers, and no internet.

No one under 18 has sex.

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I was happy when my old Austin Healey convertible started on the second try. The bloody SU carburetors needed tuning, and the four-banger was running a bit rough. I turned to Megan while I let the engine warm up.

The sun shining on her tousled hair turned it to gold, while the drops of perspiration on her forehead sparkled like diamonds. It was impossible not to gaze at her plump breasts, barely concealed by the tight, sweaty muscle shirt that clung to her soft flesh. My little sister was by far the most beautiful girl I had ever made love to. Just looking at her and smelling her scent made my cock swell. She looked and smelled like a girl who had just been fucked hard. Maybe it was my cock talking or the potent, inhibition melting joints we had smoked, but I knew that I loved my little sister passionately. I was going to hell, but I didn't care.

I said, "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. It's been a long time since breakfast, and Weed's primo joints have given me the munchies. I'm going to stop in college town for takeout. We have to go that way anyhow."

"Steve, we have all the food I got for the poker game. If you eat now, you'll spoil your appetite."

"The poker game isn't for three hours. I'll never last that long. Please, Megs, it will only take a minute. We have all night to eat your treats."

"Well, I am rather hungry after a strenuous afternoon. I guess it's Ok as long as I can stay in the car. I'm not dressed for going out in public."

I suppressed a laugh. How could I forget? I might be stoned out of my mind, but she was right in front of me. She wore a short, tight muscle shirt that showed off most of her taut, tan abdomen. The lightweight top and did little to conceal her hard nipples and her dark pink areoles. The only thing covering her sex was a skimpy, threadbare towel that barely wrapped all the way around her curvy hips. I was well aware that her freshly shaved pussy was bare underneath the towel.

"So what do you want? Pizza and Chinese are the only takeout choices. The pizza is much better."

"Ok, pizza it is as long as there aren't any anchovies. Maybe you could get one with sausage, olives, and mushrooms?"

I took a roundabout route to the pizza parlor to show off my lovely passenger. I took us down State Street past College Avenue before turning onto Eddy Street. As we cruised past a couple of bars, I slowed down and waved at the people sitting outside. I wanted everyone to know the prettiest girl In the world was my companion. Megan had been uncharacteristically silent since we set off for college town.

Finally, I turned on Dryden road to get back to College Avenue, where we parked near Tony's Pizza Parlor. More people were on the street than usual in the summer, and most of them were far older than typical college students. I'd forgotten about Alumni Week.

"I'll just be a minute."

I quickly learned that Tony's was backed up with orders from alumni. Tony said it was the same everywhere in college town. He promised he could get me a pizza in forty-five minutes if I were willing to wait. The frazzled owner suggested I try out the new air hockey tables he had bought to replace the old run-down ones I had learned on. I placed the order and went out to challenge my competitive sister to a game.

I found my old classic convertible surrounded by six heavyset middle-aged alumni peppering my sister with questions about the car. They looked like former athletes who had become successful, out-of-shape businessmen. It was apparent that they were more interested in my sister than a car they could afford without blinking an eye.

Thanks to the oppressive humidity, her top hadn't dried, and it clung to her breasts. Her hard nipples were poking into the thin cotton of the muscle shirt, and her dark pink areoles were visible through the lightweight cotton. I rushed forward to rescue my sister from the leering assholes but was stopped in my tracks by Megan's strange plea.

"Please have mercy on me! I'm just a young, innocent college girl."

My sister stared me in the eye and shook her head as she used the phrase from her 'Assassin's Woman' fantasy that indicated she wanted more. I'd only been gone a few minutes, and she was already lost in another of her crazy fantasies. Only this time, it was with strangers old enough to be her father.

I leaned against the pizza shop no more than a dozen feet away and waited for a sign that she needed help. The men were focused on my sister and ignored me completely. I wasn't worried about anything the men could do on a public street. Instead, I found myself aroused watching them pester my willing sister.

One of the men was particularly forward and was sitting on the side of my open sports car and leaning over my little sister.

He laughed at Megan's proclamation of innocence. "I love young college girls. It's the time in a girl's life when they ripen into a woman. However, you don't look very innocent to me. I think you're ripe enough to eat. I'm sure you could make me very happy while earning a sizable payment for an evening as my escort at our Alumni Week Gala on Monday. I promise it will be a wholesome and enjoyable evening of dining and dancing."

He explained that he and his companions were the alumni committee for the class of 1950 and were making a nostalgia tour of college town. He was massaging my sister's shoulder as he invited her to join them for dinner and drinks at Johnny's Big Red Bar and Grill around the corner. He casually pushed her right shoulder strap down her arm exposing most of her right breast. When my sister pulled the strap back up and replied that she had a date for tonight, the man offered to pay her a hundred dollars to accompany him to the Gala. I suppressed a whistle. That was more than our mother made in two weeks at a yardage store.

I smiled when she shook her head no and repeated her plea for mercy. She didn't want my help. I thought it might be a good experience for her to learn how to handle unwanted advances from privileged assholes.

The heavyset man wasn't used to hearing the word no and pressed my sister harder. He pushed the strap farther down her arm and started playing with her hard nipple. He told her that his wife had passed away recently and it wouldn't be proper for the head of the committee to show up unaccompanied. He promised she would have a good time and be treated with respect. When he offered two hundred dollars, my sister gasped. I could see her delicate hands clutching his massive arm as he played with her bare breast, but she did nothing to stop him. My little sister looked up at him like a deer in headlights.

I stood in the shadows waiting for her to utter her safe word. Instead, she moaned and begged for mercy again.

The man said two hundred dollars was a lot of money for hanging on his arm and smiling. She would only be expected to laugh at his jokes and dance a few numbers with him. If she was pleasant company, she could expect a nice tip. His companions would also reward her if she was friendly and danced with them as well. He said that she could earn four or five hundred dollars for an easy night's work. My sister squirmed in the car seat as he rolled her hard nipple between his fingers. His lips were whispering in her ear as he continued his seduction.

He told her she didn't have to make up her mind tonight. The man wrote the phone number for his room at the Statler Hotel on the Cornell campus on the back of his business card. He leaned around my sister to slip it in the car's glovebox. All he wanted now was her phone number so he could send a car to pick her up when she accepted his offer.

Megan shrieked when she heard a clap of thunder nearby. I had seen the sky darken and felt the wind pick up in the last few minutes. When I saw the flash of lightning, I started counting. I calculated the approaching storm was about two miles away. My sister panicked as a couple of closer blasts followed the first. My poor sister had never gotten over her childhood fear of thunder and lightning.

Megan threw the car door open and jumped out of the car. The ragged towel snagged on the door, and my sister shrieked as the towel fell to the ground. She stumbled into the arms of the burly alpha male, and his companions surrounded her like a pack of wolves. He pulled her half-naked body back against his broad chest and laughed in delight.

A sharp crack of thunder quickly followed a nearby flash of lightning. My sister screamed in terror, and the man exploited the opportunity by driving a couple of thick fingers deep into her exposed vagina. His other hand massaged the top of her slit where her clit was hiding. I couldn't believe my ears when Megan screamed for mercy again.

His friends peeled her wet muscle shirt up to her neck, and their greedy hands mauled her jiggling breasts. My little sister's naked body twisted around the fingers thrusting into her shaved pussy as the hand rubbing her clit drove her ever closer to an orgasm.

The man hissed. "Give me your phone number, and I'll let you go."

My sister screamed as an intense crack of thunder shook the ground. She yelled out the phone number to my apartment as the rain began pelting the ground.

Being mauled in public by six heavyset, middle-aged alumni hadn't bothered my sister, so I knew it must have been the lightning that scared her enough to end her fantasy. Megan's eyes were wild as she screamed. "Oh God, please. Please, I need to get inside. I'm scared. Oh, Mommy, help me."

I started running toward my sister when she yelled her safe word. Before I could reach her, the men ran off laughing like a gang of third graders who had just pulled down the pants of a classmate on the playground. I ripped the towel from the door and tossed it to her.

My sister's mouth hung open, gasping for air, and her eyes were glazed. I was familiar with the look. I had seen it on her face every time she was close to an orgasm. The rich assholes had left my poor sister on the edge.

I yelled at her to find shelter inside the pizza shop before turning to put up the convertible's top. It took a minute to wrestle the side curtains out of the trunk and attach them to the top of the doors. As usual, I struggled to raise the folding top.

When I finally turned around, I saw that my sister hadn't moved an inch. Her wet top was still wrapped around her neck, and the towel lay on the sidewalk at her feet. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open, emitting a low moan. Both of her hands were massaging her hairless mound.

At first, I thought the bastard had injured my poor sister when he crammed his fat fingers into her vagina. I was shocked when I realized she wasn't trying to rub away the pain. Megan vigorously rubbed the top of her hairless slit with one hand while working several fingers from her other hand deep inside her pussy. It was an arousing sight, and it confirmed that my sister was still stoned out of her mind.

I had never seen a woman masturbate before, and I was horrified that the first time was my naked little sister rubbing one out in the middle of college town. She was standing facing the street and hunched over with her feet spread apart. Her breasts were bouncing around like little kids jumping on a trampoline. It was the most decadent sight I had ever seen. The only thing protecting her virtue was the fact that the storm had driven everyone indoors.

However, a half dozen guys were crowded against the window of the laundromat across the street. I saw my sister drop to her knees and arch her back. Her eyes were closed tight as she fought hard for release. I heard her let out a desperate scream just as the wind picked up, and hail began bouncing off her tender flesh. She shrieked when a dime-size chunk of ice struck one of her erect nipples. I looked down at my dazed sister as she clutched her breasts with both hands and whimpered in pain. I grabbed her soaking wet towel from a puddle and dragged her into the vestibule of the pizza shop.

In the privacy of the entry room, I handed her the towel before pulling her crop top down to cover her heaving breasts.

"Megan, snap out of it. You need to cover yourself before we can go inside."

I stood back and watched her fumble with the skimpy rag. I was still trying to understand what had happened.

"What the hell was that about? Why didn't you want me to save you from those assholes? If the storm hadn't hit when it did, they would have bent you over the hood of my car and taken turns raping you on the street."

"I was acting out one of my fantasies. I'm sorry if I made you worry. I blame it on Weed's weed." My sister giggled and repeated the phrase she thought was hilarious. It's incredible what a stoned person will find amusing. "Weed's weed has made me horny as fuck. It seemed the perfect opportunity to live out another fantasy from my favorite book. I'm only sorry the storm hit before I had an orgasm. God, I'm still super horny."

"Jeez, Megan, you can't act out your fantasies with strangers on a public street. There is no way I could protect you from that many guys. You could have gotten hurt, and I'd have been responsible. What the fuck was so great about your damn fantasy that you wanted to be gang banged in public?"

Megan didn't look me in the eyes as she fiddled with the towel. The small hole had gotten larger when the threadbare piece of cotton had snagged on the car door. The best she could do was hold the corners of the towel together. Most of the side of her right ass cheek was now exposed by the enlarged hole.

"I wish the storm had held off. I'll never get a chance like this again to recreate the first sex scene in "Assassin's Woman."

I exclaimed, "Oh great. Another fantasy from Scott's damn porn collection."

My sister pouted. "It's one of my favorites. The scene in my fantasy is similar to what just happened."

"Maybe, you should show me a list of your fantasies so I'll know what to expect next."

"I wrote twenty-three of them in my diary. Unfortunately, it's in the suitcase the airline lost."

"Oh dear God. You really have that many fantasies? Ok, ok, just tell me what this one was about."

Megan smiled at me. "In the book, the heroine was standing beside the mayor when he got shot at a campaign rally. She was his communications manager, and she was splattered with the dead man's blood. The police brought her in for questioning. One of their suspects was her husband. After being questioned by the police, she went home hoping to find her husband in their apartment, but he wasn't there.

She was almost finished showering when the phone rang. It was hard to hear over the fan, but the person on the phone sounded like her husband. He begged her to bring him his passport and screamed at her to hurry. She didn't even take the time to dry off before slipping a short tunic top over her naked body. The summer weight-top was meant to be worn with jeans, but she knew it would take too long to work a pair of skin-tight jeans up her long legs. The desperate wife didn't even take the time to fasten all the buttons running up the front of the sheer top before grabbing the passport and running out to meet her husband at the corner store across the street.

When she enters the store, her husband is nowhere in sight. The Pakistani owner stares at her long pale legs and the exposed tops of her breasts. She can tell he is annoyed she isn't making a purchase and turns her back on him to examine a rack of magazines. She can see him in a security mirror, making sure she isn't stealing anything.

When she bends over at the waist to pick up a magazine on the bottom shelf, she sees the owner's mouth fall open. The nervous woman instinctively skims her hand down the back of her short tunic and is shocked when her hand brushes across her bare ass and moist pussy. She shudders as she stands up, horrified that she has exposed herself to a stranger.

The owner yells, "Get out. You get out. No whores in my shop. Go now."

As soon as she leaves, a pair of goons grab her arms and frog-walk her to a waiting convertible. She recognizes them as bodyguards for the man backing the dead mayor's opponent. She is forced into the passenger seat next to a powerful crime boss. He drives her to a secluded park and demands to know where her husband is hiding. His bodyguards get out of a big sedan to watch her interrogation.

When she protests that she doesn't know, the big man slaps her and rips her tunic open. He twists her breasts and forces her to suck his fat cock. He yells at her to give up her husband as he face fucks the frightened young woman. Finally, he pulls her from the car and shoves her face down on the warm hood. The gangster kicks her feet apart and shoves his cock into her wet pussy. The boss may be a vicious criminal, but he knows women's bodies. His fingers quickly find her clit. Despite trying her best to resist, the poor woman begins orgasming hard over and over. Her body betrays her, and her hips start pushing back to meet his powerful thrusts.

When the mobster decides she doesn't know anything useful, he lets his bodyguards have her. Afterward, they drop her off in the slums wearing only her ruined tunic top. There she falls into the hands of another of the mayor's enemies, a powerful black man who controls the slums. His men are so eager to get their hands on some young white pussy that he makes her a prize in an all-night poker game. However, that is another fantasy."

Despite all the freedom marches and Martin Luther King's recent assassination, I still had the prejudices I was raised with. It was 1969, and I believed a white girl faced being ostracized if she so much as dated a colored person.

"Oh my God, Megan! Please tell me you don't have a fantasy about being gang banged by a horde of black men."