The following story contains descriptions of close family members engaged in entirely inappropriate activities that some may find either disturbing or hot. If you find blood relatives fantasizing about or taking liberties with each other or otherwise behaving in very naughty ways, then you probably should stop reading right about...now.
All characters in this story are fictional and are eighteen years or older. Any resemblance to any real person, living, dead or under the age of eighteen, is in your own filthy mind. Sadly, most of the events portrayed in this story are not based on true events. I wish.
If you are still reading and are not offended by MILF or SILF or BILF and believe siblings behaving in very naughty ways is hot, I hope you enjoy this story.
Alyssa was wearing a bra and panties, but nothing felt out of the ordinary. With her back to me, she didn't see me staring. You would have stared, too. Not that her lingerie was particularly sexy, just cotton--white with some pale pink accents the color of her lips. It's the fact that my sister normally does not hang out with me wearing only her underwear.
Her milky skin looked so pale and wonderful. She was down by the water looping a rope like there was a boat, but I did not see one. Each time she looped another strand of the rope, the motion flexed muscles barely visible beneath that pallid skin in a way that made turning away impossible.
When she finished with the rope, she undid her bra and slipped out of it. From where I stood, side-boob swayed alluringly, and I struggled for a better view, but she kept her back to me, turning slightly to the side as she looked for more rope on the dock. Her breasts looked larger naked than in real life, more like they were back when she was in college and she weighed more than 100 pounds.
"Where is it?"
I neither knew where or what it was, nor did I care, but maybe looking for it without wearing those panties might help. I didn't make that suggestion, though. I just watched.
Suddenly, a familiar sensation began. Warm liquid sprayed on me as I felt powerful jets of pleasure, and I realized they were one in the same. I was lying in bed, in the dark, with my own jism shooting inside my shorts. My hands were at my sides as it was doing it all by itself. Several seconds passed until I came to the realization this was a wet dream, and the orgasm continued for much longer than I ever considered possible until that night.
The underwear I slept in was soaked by the time I stopped coming. Only then did I look over at my wife, sleeping quietly beside me. Moving as slow as possible, I slipped out of bed and scurried to the bathroom to wash off, careful to make as little noise as possible because the last thing I wanted was my wife to find me washing schmoo off my stomach in the middle of the night.
This was the first wet dream I could remember, and for years I felt gypped because I had been deprived them. It was freaking amazing! The power and quality of the orgasm was more than I ever expected when I hoped for wet dreams since I first heard of them more than a decade before.
The only strange part was the dream that gave it to me.
My sister lives a few hundred miles away, and we don't see each other often since we each got married. Holidays, mostly; once or twice a year. Nothing planned this year until Christmas. She is three years younger than I and, although she had always been gorgeous, never before had she appeared in any dreams such as this. We talk on the phone once a week. I suppose every guy has the occasional fantasy about their sister--particularly when theirs is a hot redhead like mine--but we were basically an ordinary brother and sister.
Something about that wet dream made it impossible to get out of my mind.
The phone rang the following Saturday afternoon as she made her weekly check-in call. Everything was fine. Her kids were just starting elementary school. Just chatting about ordinary things. She did not mention her husband.
"I had a funny dream about you the other night."
Same here, I thought, but instead said, "Oh, really? What was funny about it?"
Her voice had a light quality, the sound of someone smiling. "We had a boat, I think, although I didn't see it. I was trying to get it ready to tie up to the dock, and you weren't helping. You were just standing there. I asked if you knew where the boat was, but you never answered, just stood there behind me doing nothing."
A strange numb feeling swept over me. Is it possible she was describing the same dream? I waited a few seconds, gathering my composure, before I asked in a totally casual, joking way, "Were we wearing proper yachting wear, captain's hat and all?"
"No, that's one of the funny parts. You were in a blue bathing suit that looked like boxer shorts. And I was... Well, that's about all I remember."
I was dizzy. I
was
wearing blue boxers that night. In fact, I had to sneak them down to the washing machine in the middle of the night so my wife didn't find them covered with an alarming amount of dried spunk in the morning.
"That is a funny dream," I said, so stunned I could not say much more. After that, our conversation sort of trailed off, as though neither of us had much to say. I was afraid to say anything.
It was a grand ball, held in a palace full of gilded furniture underneath crystal chandeliers lit with real candles. Everyone there was from another time, at least a century before. Women in colorful, full dresses shaped like bells, men in morning coats with those striped gray pants, some wearing top hats. I stopped at an oval mirror on the wall to make sure my uniform looked impeccable, and it did. White military jacket decorated with dozens of medals, and I had the most amazing bushy sideburns that grew down into a full mustache.
I make quite a dashing dandy!
Women were dancing in a grand circle with handsome gentlemen, but I was lost. The mirror confirmed what I looked like, but that is about all I knew. No one else in the entire ballroom looked even vaguely familiar.
"Hello, Captain!"
It was Alyssa, dressed in a red gown that matched the sash across my shoulder. It was one of those with a bustier that pushes up the boobs so nicely, and hers formed the top curves of a perfect heart. "Shall we dance?"
"Of course!"
I have never taken a ballroom dance class in my life, but we spun around the dance floor like we were floating on a cloud. She was light in my arms, and I held her up with one hand at her waist, her hand on my shoulder, holding the other out away from us. Her skin was warm to the touch.
"I can't dance," she said.
"Don't worry; I've got you!" And I spun her like I was fricking Fred Astaire and she was Ginger Roberts.
Her hair was done up in a Victorian style bun with red curls hanging down from it, and she wore a pearl necklace.
The music stopped, but I held onto her and she to me. I tried to unzip her dress right there in the middle of this elegant crowd, but she had no zipper, only a never-ending series of tiny round buttons up the back, so I started unbuttoning them.
For whatever reason, she did not object. Instead, she leaned close, full lips painted an unusual bright red close to mine. So, I kissed her, and she kissed me.
Our tongues danced like we had danced a moment ago. Her lips were so soft and her tongue attacked mine hungrily. No matter how I tried, the buttons were endless, but I kept unbuttoning them, each time I got one, she seemed to kiss me more passionately.
The orgasm awakened me from the dream. If anything, it was more intense than the first one, and lasted longer. Cum must have continued shooting out of me in unbelievably ecstatic waves for close to a full minute. The amount of jism was truly prodigious. I swear, it was the most powerful orgasm I could remember ever having.
It was hard to wait until that weekend, and this time, I called her. With only one thing on my mind, I somehow kept it to the boring details of a boring week until I just could not stand it any longer.
"This week, it was my turn to have an interesting dream."
A long pause at the other end. "Oh, what was yours about?"
"You were in it." I tried to make my voice sound casual as possible, but that was hard. "There was this grand ball, like from a European court in one of those movies, maybe in the 1800s. You were in a red ballgown and I had this white uniform and the craziest mustache thing you have ever seen."
"The kind attached to your sideburns?"
"Exactly!"
There was more silence at the other end. "What else do you remember?"
"Not much. We waltzed, and we were good, too. And..." now I paused, not sure whether to tell her, but decided to see what her reaction might be, "I think we kissed."
"And?"
"That's when I woke up."
