A Spot of Bother

"You don't mind if your Aunt comes to stay for a bit do you?" My mother's words broke into my reverie where I was just about to plunge my cock into the waiting pussy of Taylor Swift. It was a shame because she was gagging for it, only she didn't know it because she was thousands of miles away and I was only looking at her image on the TV screen. To me however it was all so real and now Mum had ruined it.

We were all sitting watching the news, Mum, Dad and me and there had been a segment about Taylor Swift getting booed as she watched the Superbowl. Who would boo a creature like that I thought, especially in those shorts? She'd dumped her boyfriend, Bryce or Tryce or something, that huge hulking American footballer and had taken up with me and we were about to have sex for the first time, only now we weren't. Not until later anyway.

"Of course not Mum," I replied semi-automatically. It was their house after all, I was twenty and had just got home from university for the summer holidays and was looking forward to some rest and some pampering from my Mum. Being independent was great until you had to do the washing and ironing, not to mention cooking and clearing up by yourself. Mum of course loved having her boy back and I was relishing being molly-coddled.

"Any particular reason?" I asked curious.

Mum and Dad exchanged looks, then Mum continued, "She's got into a bit of bother and needs a break for a while." That gave me a clue to the answer of the question I really wanted to ask, which sister? Mum had three, one older and two younger, the youngest being only 9 years older than me. She always maintained she was an afterthought for her parents, not a mistake. She was the liveliest of the four of them, perhaps her relative youth had something to do with that, or her lack of children.

I'd loved her for as long as I could remember which was about when I was four or five. She was in her mid-teens then, but when she came to visit she would always play with me, we'd build dens out of blankets and chairs, play pirates, and hide and seek. She taught me board games and never seemed to bore with entertaining her young nephew. She was like a big sister, a mother and best friend to me all at once.

Then of course we grew up, she went off to university and when she came back she had a boyfriend, one she moved in with. I was stricken with jealousy, as I saw her less often and when she did come to visit she brought him. He behaved perfectly well, even tried to make friends with me, but there was always something I didn't like about him. On one occasion they stayed overnight and I knew they were having sex and I hated every minute of their stay, picturing them in bed together. Mum never said anything about him of course, certainly not to me, but I could see she shared my opinion of him.

"Sarah you mean?" I'd never called her Aunty, "What sort of bother?" Surely she wasn't pregnant, anyway babies out of wedlock were quite the norm these days.

Another look between Mum and Dad, "I'm sure she'll tell you when she feels able to, but suffice it to say she's leaving Jason and needs some time to get back on her feet, and now that we've got a spare room after your sister got married we can accommodate her comfortably. It'll mean you sharing a bathroom with her, so remember to keep it clean and tidy for her."

"What about your holiday?" I asked. They had a holiday booked for a couple of weeks' time, a long awaited break for them as my Dad had been working really long hours. Another look, "Well, we'll see about that when the time comes." This was starting to sound serious.

Dad disappeared the next day in the car, returning some hours later with Sarah and several cases. She greeted me with her usual hug, but there seemed something lacking in it, she was thinner than I remembered and her face was pale. I helped lug her suitcases up the stairs into her room and the door was shut behind me leaving her and Mum together. Dad just gave me that look that said to leave them alone and give her space.

They re-appeared a bit later and I could see that Sarah had been crying, but she was clearly making a huge effort, asking me about my time at university, whether I had a girlfriend and generally trying to be friendly. By bed time she even seemed to have relaxed a bit, perhaps the wine had something to do with it, and when she took herself off for an early night she gave us all a hug and kiss, thanking us profusely for taking her in. I got another pep talk from Mum about treating her with kid gloves for a while, something she didn't really need to tell me, I could see how fragile she was.

When I woke in the morning Taylor Swift was in bed with me again and this time there was no interruption from Mum and I filled her pussy with my cum as she writhed naked underneath me. I cleaned myself up and rolled out of bed to go for my shower, then remembered Sarah was with us and would be using my bathroom. Mum and Dad had an en-suite in their room, so I'd been used to the luxury of my own space and I wondered how I should play it.

Normally I just pulled on a pair of boxers and strolled across the landing, we'd never been a family worried too much about casual semi-nudity, and in the mornings the sight of all of us wandering around barely covered up was commonplace. Now I'd have to treat the matter with a little more sensitivity. Dad would have left already for work, so it would be just Mum and Sarah.

I dug my dressing gown out of the wardrobe and pulled it round me and opened my door. It was quiet everywhere and Sarah's door and the bathroom door were both shut. Mum's was open and I could hear the sound of her shower running, so I approached the bathroom door and put my ear to it. All was quiet so I knocked gently, no reply so I turned the door hand and poked my head in. Thankfully it was empty and I slid in and closed the door behind me, twisting the little latch to lock it, something I rarely did, usually only if I was going to have a wank.

My normal routine was shit, shower, shave and I completed all those successfully then making sure everything was clean, emerged again to see Sarah's door open, but no sign of her. I dressed and made my way downstairs to see Mum and Sarah deeply engaged in conversation which stopped as I came in. Mum was dressed but Sarah was in a dressing gown with what looked like a nightie underneath. Both greeted me with a kiss and I tried desperately not to look down Sarah's dressing gown as I bent down, but old habits died hard and I did look down very briefly, although there was nothing to be seen.

We ate breakfast together then Mum told me they were going shopping for a bit to buy Sarah some 'essentials' and I'd be on my own for the morning at least. She went upstairs and I heard the shower go on again. Whilst I hadn't got a summer job, well not one that paid money, we'd come to an arrangement where I would help out round the house. With Dad's hours at work, the garden had got into a bit of a mess and my first task was to sort it out so I headed out and got the lawnmower out.

The grass hadn't been cut for several weeks by the look of it and even on a high setting it was hard work and the sweat was soon pouring off me. "Don't forget you've got all summer," Mum called out as they waved goodbye for their shopping trip, "and wear a hat!" I struggled for an hour or so and while it did look better than when I had started, pristine turf it was not.

I downed a pint of water and decided another shower was in order and headed for my bathroom. I took a fresh towel from the airing cupboard and went in, this time not bothering to lock the door. I stripped off my clothes and then stood in front of the toilet and had a piss, looking around the room to see what if anything had changed due to my new guest. All appeared to be as I'd left it, and I supposed that Mum and Sarah would return laden with 'essentials' like shampoo and conditioner and the like.

My gaze fell on the laundry basket where the lid hadn't been put back squarely. I finished peeing and gave my cock my customary three shakes, and settled the lid back on, then inquisitively lifted it up again and peered inside. There on top was a bra, pale pink and made of some flimsy, lacy stuff. I knew I shouldn't but I picked it up and felt the material, my mind imagining Sarah's breasts nestled in the cups. It looked almost see through and I wondered what her nipples looked like. I wasn't a virgin by any means and certainly hadn't lived like a hermit at university and had come to appreciate the different shapes and sizes of breasts and nipples in particular.

I felt my cock twitch as the blood started to flow into it and I gave it a quick fondle. Unable to resist the temptation I looked at the label. 34C. My mind went instantly into translation mode and could envisage what they would look like, possibly a bit larger than Taylor Swift's. I peered deeper into the basket where another flash of pink had caught my eye. Reaching in, I pulled out a pair of panties made of the same material as the bra, the front panel looked vaguely diaphanous and I held it up to confirm the fact.

I could see quite clearly through it and my cock gave another lurch, was Sarah clean shaven like Taylor Swift or did she have some sort of bush? My experiences at university leaned me towards thinking she was shaven, but I had been surprised before, sometimes pleasantly. I turned them round and feeling more than a little guilty examined the white cotton gusset. There was a slightly yellowish stain in the middle and I found myself lifting the panties to my nose and sniffing. There was the unmistakable smell of pussy, overlaid with something a little tangy.

Automatically my hand went to my cock and I found myself stroking it, still clasping the panties to my nose. It was no good, I'd have to see this to the conclusion and I sat down on the toilet lid and started to masturbate in earnest. For once it wasn't Taylor Swift in my mind's eye, it was Sarah, not the Sarah with the haunted look, but the Sarah of old, a sparkle in her eyes as she stripped off her clothes to reveal that very same matching underwear set, then off came her bra, breasts tumbling out. Down came her panties, she was bald and I could just about make out her pussy lips when my cock suddenly erupted and the first jet spurted out.

Fortunately I managed to drop her panties and catch it in my hand and rapidly stood and pointed my cock over the bath tub as it continued to erupt, jet after jet splashing against the tiles and bath. Feeling a little guilty I turned on the shower, then took the detachable head and washed away the evidence of my crime before getting in myself and doing what I came upstairs to do, have a shower. When I got out I put the underwear back pretty much as I had found it and hoped that no-one would be any the wiser.

They returned mid-afternoon, they'd had lunch out and even in that short while I thought she looked better, although I found I could not look at her for imagining her in that pink set of underwear. I still felt guilty about what I'd done and resolved not to do it again, or at least try not to. In part I was successful, trying to entice Taylor Swift into bed with me for my morning wanks, although Sarah had got into the habit of using the bathroom before me, and rapping on my door as she passed by, calling out "Bathroom's free!" jerking me back to reality.

I often wondered what she was wearing when she knocked on my door, I'd caught her a couple of times in just a towel, wrapped tightly round her, it came half way down her thighs and investigation had usually revealed a pair of still warm panties in the laundry basket, so presumably she was naked underneath it. Needless to say, my resolution not to masturbate over her underwear was generally a failure on those occasions.

Slowly she was getting back to her normal self. There were occasions when a distant look would come over her face and sometimes she'd disappear to her room for a while, re-appearing later looking a bit brighter, and once or twice I thought I could hear the sounds of gentle crying. Like me she had agreed to help out round the house, she did the cleaning and some of the cooking, and I could see she was on the mend when she started to refer to herself as Mrs Hughes and the house as Downton Abbey. She even started to refer to my parents as Lord and Lady Grantham. When I asked if that made me Carson, the butler, she replied in a Scottish accent, "Certainly not, Carson would never dirty his hands working in the garden."

I'd forgotten about their holiday until over dinner one night Mum broached the subject, asking if we thought it acceptable if they did indeed take their holiday. It hadn't occurred to me that they'd even consider it, so it brought home to me how seriously they'd taken Sarah's mental state. Sarah of course would not even hear of them even thinking of cancelling, "Carson and I can cope perfectly well," she stated, obviously I'd been promoted, "after all we have the servants to do our bidding." Now I knew we were getting our old Sarah back.

Clearly Mum and Dad thought so as well because they decided to go on the holiday, although not before Mum had sat me down and we'd had a long talk about being supportive and helpful. Even Dad weighed in with a little chat. They were going to Gran Canaria on some silly o'clock in the morning flight, and in a moment of madness I had agreed to drive them to the airport. It wasn't that far to Gatwick and at that time in the morning the roads would be empty, but Sarah insisted on accompanying me 'in case I got lost'. As if!

Despite the ungodly hour the car was bouncing with energy from the happy holiday makers and their staff, I'd not had time for my wank and was looking forward to it when I got back. We hugged and kissed them goodbye and Mum made me promise again to be a good boy, then they were off, disappearing into the terminal as Sarah and I got back in the car.

"I wish we were going too," she admitted. The prospect of two weeks in the sun with Sarah suddenly seemed pretty attractive, but I knew that Mum and Dad had investigated the possibility and found it to be impossible. They'd not told Sarah for fear of setting her recovery back.

"Never mind, summer's here, we can have our own staycation," I commented brightly, "there's plenty to do in the South East, perhaps even go to the beach. Dad said I could have full use of the car as long as I didn't bend it."

"Where could we go?" asked Sarah. "What was the name of that place where we went when you were little and I'd come to stay, you know, the one with the big sand dunes."

I dredged my memory for the place she was referring to. "You mean Camber Sands?"

"That was it, we had some great times there. Let's go today! It's going to be a nice day so we can start as we mean to go on. Head for the beach Branson!"

"I thought I was Carson?" I asked in a puzzled voice.

"Whatever."

In the event common sense took over and rather than go straight to Camber we went home and picked up our swimming costumes and even packed a bit of lunch, just some sandwiches, just as we'd done all those years ago. It was mid-week and not yet the school holidays so the traffic was bearable and I even managed to remember the way, mostly without the help of the sat-nav. I pulled into the car park and it all came flooding back to me, it was bigger than it used to be and there were more buildings, but the old toilets were still there.

"If you need to go," I said to Sarah, "now's the time because there are none over the dunes." She assured me she'd be all right and we started the trudge along the path that ran over the sandy ridge. It was just as much hard work as it used to be, but the excitement when we saw the magnificent sandy beach was every bit as electrifying as it ever was. The tide was mostly in and we walked along the beach a bit, then up into the dunes to find a nice spot.

"This'll do," announced Sarah, plonking the bags down. I spread out the mat then the towels and we looked at each other and grinned. "Bet we made it to the beach before they did." I looked at my watch and decided she was right, at best they'd still be an hour away from landing.

"Let's go and test the water," suggested Sarah as she undid the buttons on her shorts and tugged them down. I stared google eyed, expecting to see her panties, but then realised she'd already put her bikini on and it was that brightly coloured garment that I could see. Off came her top, a matching bra and for the first time in years I was looking at her body. I could see how thin she was, even two weeks of my mother's cooking could not disguise that, but she still looked lovely.

"Come on then!" she encouraged.

"But I haven't got my swim stuff on," I protested, as I wrapped a towel round me and started to wriggle my street clothes off.

"You never bothered when you were little," she commented, "you just stripped straight off and ran around naked from what I can remember."

"Things have changed since then," I replied thinking of all the safeguarding rules and regulations.

"Well hopefully I'll get to see later on," she replied, her mind clearly not on the same wavelength as mine.

Finally I had my swim shorts safely on and like a couple of kids we dashed off to the rapidly receding water. We ran out into the surf, such as there was, Camber has a very shallow beach and it was a long time before we were even up to our thighs. The water was, to put it mildly, bloody cold and we had to keep moving or risk freezing to death. Still, we behaved like a couple of kids and splashed each other, laughing and screaming until our sides ached.

We'd got to our waists when Sarah suddenly stood still. "What's up?" I asked, concerned.

"Nothing, I'm peeing, the cold's had an effect on my bladder." I didn't quite know what to do, so just stood there imagining the warm stream squirting out of her pussy, through her bikini and into the sea right by where I was standing. Despite the cold I could feel my cock swelling at the thought.

"There, all done now," she announced, then pulled the front of her bikini away and swished some water around. "Let's get back before we both freeze to death." It was harder work wading back against the flow of the ebb tide and we held hands to help each other. It was amazing how far the tide had gone out in the short time we'd been in the sea, leaving behind shallow pools. These were surprisingly warm and on impulse we sat down in one, instantly feeling better. I couldn't help but notice how hard her nipples had become under her bikini, my mind once more trying to picture what they looked like. She caught my gaze and smiled but made no comment and I wondered if I'd offended her. It didn't seem so, soon she was up and we were off again, running along still holding hands until we were back at our towels.

We grabbed them and started to towel off, the dunes blocked the sea breeze and for the first time for a while it felt like summer again. The legs of my shorts were plastered to my legs, something I hated and I tugged at them uncomfortably. "Didn't you bring a spare pair?" asked Sarah. I shook my head ruefully. "Another schoolboy error," she taunted as she reached into her bag to pull out another bikini. This was going to be interesting I thought, watching her putting it on, struggling under the towel as I had done. To my surprise instead of picking up the towel she strapped the bikini top round herself, just below her breasts then reached behind her to undo the wet one.

Quick as a flash she tugged the old one away and pulled the dry one up and slipped her arms through the strap, but not before I'd caught a definite glimpse of bare breasts and just for a fleeting second a small, hard, dark brown nipple. She looked at me and grinned, then turned away and to my complete amazement pulled down her bikini bottoms exposing her backside to me. Up came one foot slipping into the dry set, then the other and before I could really register anything she was pulling them up around her hips.