Big Tits On Lil Sis Ch 02

"So where did they come from?" I asked.

"What? The tits?"

"Yeah," I said, "Like, when did they come in? I don't remember you ever looking so top-heavy." She sighed.

"I don't know," she said, "Gradually, then suddenly. I think I grew a few cup sizes in one semester at school."

"Have you been reading Hemingway?" I asked.

"Mhm," she nodded, "I did my culminating assignment in English on Hemingway. The Sun Also Rises."

"I know. Was it tough?"

"The assignment? Not really. My teacher made Hemingway pretty easy. She said it was all only bells, balls, and bulls."

"Well... yeah, that's kind of fair. But I more or less meant about having the tits come in so suddenly. That can't be an easy thing to have to deal with on top of the rest of high school."

"It wasn't easy," she aid after she thought for a moment, "Mostly it was the other girls, weirdly. Rumours and shit. You only have to look a certain way before other girls will start calling you a slut behind your back."

"Were you?"

She rolled on her side and looked me in the eye. "Was I a slut," she asked.

"Yeah."

"No," she said, "I don't think so. But, you know, a girl can only here so many mean things about herself before she starts to believe them."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," she said, "I don't want to think about it. Didn't you say you were going to sleep?"

"Yeah," I said, "I did."

"Good night."

She rolled over to face the wall. I stared at her back for a while before I rolled over and let sleep come on me at its own pace.

***

The sun was deep in the room when I woke, so I knew it was later in the morning. Sam was gone from the room. I dressed and went into the kitchen expecting family ruckus and breakfast hullabaloo, but it was empty and looking pretty much untouched. Out the window I saw Sam lying out in a bikini next to the fire. Even from a distance, the size of her breasts was noticeable. They were so big they cast a shadow. The fire was lit and running a little low. I went out the screen door and walked down to meet her.

"Quiet morning," I remarked, "Perfect time to go tanning."

"Any time is perfect for tanning," she said, without even opening her eyes. I stood over her and looked her up and down, taking in the breathtaking sight. Her normally pale skin shone in the sun with its recent exposure. Her bikini was light blue this time, and of a more modest cut than she had worn the day before. I wondered if she was having regrets or second thoughts about last night, but decided that what she wore probably didn't have much at all to do with me.

"Did you have breakfast?" I asked.

"Nope," she said, lowering her sunglasses and finally looking at me. "Mom asked me to be out of the house for a few hours. You know. You're not the only one in the family who needs some private time."

"Okay," I said, "That's pretty gross. I wondered why Dad didn't wake me. I could have sworn he'd be up early to go fishing again. We didn't catch that much yesterday, and I know he wants to keep dinners on the ocean."

"Oh my god," she said, "We have all kinds of preserves. We could go without fish a week and not miss a damn meal."

"I know," I said, "But he likes it. He likes being the breadwinner. It makes him feel manly."

"Men are so simple," she said derisively. She sat up, which accentuated the deep V of her cleavage in her bikini top. I'm not sure if caught me looking or not. She gestured to a bunch of breakfast staples she had laid out on the picnic table. "Mom asked me to make you breakfast on the fire out here, if you were hungry. So they could be alone," she winked at me. "So what about it, brother? See anything you'd like to eat?"

I was sure that she was trying to tease me with her winking innuendo, and even though just the sight of her deep cleavage had me hot in the loins, cooler heads managed to prevail. She cooked us eggs and toast in a skillet on an open flame, and when we were done she left the dishes on the table we went into the river for a quick swim.

It's nice to feel water all over your body and to stretch and get exercise, and I particularly enjoyed watching Sam practice her back stroke (my imagination went a little lurid with the idea that she was maybe showing off for me a little), but in reality open-water swimming isn't really entreating for too much more than ten minutes. So once the ennui had set in, and we had defaulted to just wading in deep water until someone suggested heading in to dry, and I had resigned to being that person, Sam surprised with a suggestion I hadn't considered.

"Do you want to play King of The Hill?" she asked.

When we were much younger and visiting the cottage, King of The Hill was a game we played with an old log that had floated up on the beach one day. We brought it out into the river shoulder-deep on Sam and played together, trying to push each other off of the log. It was fun when we were young just because we were competitive, but I imagined a whole new kind of fun playing it with her now that we'd grown.

"Sure," I said, "If we can find a big enough log."

We waded up and down the beach, and as luck or circumstance should have it, we did indeed find solid enough wood to support us in our physical endeavors. We floated it out to the appropriate depth, squared off, and we began to wrestle.

What amounts to gladiator wrestling under water relies a lot on grappling. It's of hardly any use to push someone under water's resistance. A lot of the technique is involved in a solid grip and twist motion. At least for me it was. Again and again, I reached across my sister's chest, taking leisurely liberties with my hands along the way, and wrapping my body around her back. Then it was easy to just kick off the log, twist in the water, and let her release with the waves. It may have been my imagination, but she didn't seem to put up much resistance. She at least laughed good-naturedly at my more clumsy and obvious attempts at fondling her heaving chest, and once laughed with me at punch line to a joke I can't remember that was nothing more than double-handed reverse boob-grope over her bikini top. I expect she knew that I was harder than diamonds the whole time. She must have felt it on her back, or on her stomach, or with her hands the few occasions they wandered lower.

I expect it was our cries of merriment and bliss that woke and raised our father, who came barreling out the door and down towards the dock, tackle box and fishing rod in hand and looking determined.

"You stop with that fooling around boy," he called at me, "We got fish to catch."

My shoulders slumped at the prospect of being pulled from my session of glorified underwater dry-humping with Sam. I gave her a final push on the shoulder, and she floated backwards off the log ineffectually.

"I'm pretty sure I won," I said. "You owe me?"

"Oh yeah?" she said. "This isn't over."

***

We launched from the dock, and were on the water clear through til the evening getting back just in time for the sunset. Dad was quiet, most of the trip, which I thought was a little strange considering how uppity he'd been the last trek out. After a few futile attempts at generating conversation with him, I just dropped it and let the majesty of the river abide my afternoon. It was hard for me not to get hard replaying the past day's events in my head, but the sucker-eyed look of a fish that knows it's dinner will do hard things to a man's libido. We had good success that day, more than yesterday, but not more than we'd usually catch back when we were out fishing and younger.

We docked, and while I tied the canoe Dad proudly held the modest bucket of medium-sized fish we'd caught over his head with pride.

"Dinner's arrived," he said.

"Late, as usual," Mom answered, "We thought you boys had been lost to the current."

"You'll thank me when you're eating the best fish of your life," Dad said, stepping onto the dock and striding immediately towards the fire. Sam came in to the water to help me tying the canoe. She was wearing a different bikini, a more revealing pink bikini with tie-dye splashes of white and light blue.

"About time," she said, "Did you fall in?"

"It was a long day," I said. "Do you ever wear anything but a bikini?" She laughed, pressed her tits together and accentuated her cleavage.

"You're not complaining, are you?" she joked, "You pervert."

I could only smile at her in response.

As it turns out, Mom and Sam had already gotten dinner hungry and had started cooking some of yesterday's fish with a heavy side helping of preserves from the pantry. It was nice to come in fresh from the water to a big warm meal, but I was tired early from the day on the water. When Dad suggested an evening swim, I was the only one who had to bow out. I had to read, I said, to keep up with school.

I had been in bed about an hour, mostly reading and on the cusp of sleep when I heard the screen door creak and slam as my family came indoors. I heard Mom and Dad bid Sam a quick goodnight and eagerly retire to bed. Then I heard the door to my room open and shut. I turned to catch sight of Sam, still in her bikini and thrashing wildly at her hair with a towel. She wasn't being especially quiet, and my reading lamp was still on. I ogled her ass in its tight-fitting bikini bottoms, water forming in little droplets right where the skin of her leg met with the feloniously concealing fabric of her wet bottoms.

"Oh," she said, when she turned around and saw me. "You're still awake."

"Yeah," I said. "Hemingway." I held up my copy of The Old Man and the Sea as proof.

"Cool," she said, drying her body with quick staccato rubs all over herself with her towel. "I'm just going to change here, if that's alright."

"Yeah," I said, as nonchalantly as I could manage, "No problem."

Of course, my cock was already stiffening as I watched her shimmy under her towel, the mammoth weight of her breasts singing side to side, the soft line of her long cleavage as she bent over to dry her legs and feet. She didn't seem to mind that I was watching. Without another word even, she unlaced her bikini top and pulled it over her head, tossing it towards the laundry hamper without even a care for the clean foot it fell short. I tried not to be a slack-jawed gawker, but I couldn't help myself when her glorious mounds were revealed to me for the second time in two nights. She reached up and ran the towel through her hair again, her arms up and her hands held behind her head, and her proud breast jutted out at me standing in rapt attention.

"Perv," she chastised me, catching my gaze. "Avert thine eyes."

But she said it so good-naturedly that I couldn't help but keep watching. I watched her as she dried her hair, and her arms, and her breasts that swelled and swayed with every movement she made. Then I watched as she turned around to face her back to me. With just the hint of a backwards glance over her shoulder (maybe she was making sure that I was looking) she pulled her bikini bottoms down off her legs and out off her feet. I saw her ass, bare and exposed to me for the first time. It was firm looking and still kind of fat, poking out noticeably from the back of her thighs. But it was merely for a second before she gave her front and bottom a cursory wipe with the towel and stepped into a pair of lacy whit full panties for bed.

I was already at full mast and quietly rubbing myself under my blankets when she turned around, seeming aware of my gaze but not overtly concerned with my activities. She walked across the room and grabbed her sleep camisole from the floor around the laundry hamper. She toyed with it in her hands, and seemed to come to the crusty stain left where she wad wiped my come off the night before.

"I forgot about this," she said, and then turned to face me. She held her arms loosely at her sides, and her boobs were pointed out to me in full frontal assault mode. I am certain that at that point my jaw was probably wide in open admiration as I stared wantonly at her generously naked breasts presented to me.

"I guess we're kind of past the point of modesty, aren't we?" She asked. I honestly stammered as I tried to answer.

"Yeah," I kind of said, "Yeah, I guess so."

"And you don't mind if I sleep like this?" she asked, gesturing with one hand to her free breasts, "Do you?"

"No. I don't."

"Okay, good," she said. She dropped her camisole and sat on her bed. "So are you hard?"

"What?"

"Your dick. Is it hard?" she asked again.

"Yeah," I said, "Ever since you got in the room."

"Good. Can I see it?"

"What?" I asked again?

"Can I see it? You said I could. I just want to see how thick it is. For... science, I guess."

"Yeah, okay, I guess," I said, "As long as it's for science."

I was already naked and stroking beneath the covers, so I just tossed the blankets off of me. My cock was about as hard as ever and pointing straight to the sky. I gestured at it with my hand.

"Like what you see?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Stand up," she said firmly. I rolled my legs out of bed and stood up without thinking. At the same time, she crept out of her bed and knelt down on the floor, leaning in to look at it up close.

"Um," I said.

"It's so thick," she said. I saw in her hand the involuntary motion of a woman who can't help but reach for the dick in front of her.

"Thank you," I said, unsure of any other way to receive her.

"It's the thickest I've seen," she said, "I don't know if it's just high school guys, or you or whatever, but all the ones I've seen have kind of been thin little pricks."

"Yeah," I joked, "That's the college in me."

She laughed.

"So have you seen a lot of dicks?" I asked.

"No," she said. "A few here and there. You remember what I said about being a slut?"

"Yeah," I said.

"When a girl gets that kind of reputation, it kind of sticks with her. People have expectations, you know? And it kind of becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Easy is as easy does," I said. While she was speaking, she had consciously or otherwise grabbed my dick and was softly stroking it up and down. I tilted my head back and enjoyed the sensation.

"I went on a lot of dates," I heard her saying, "I thought it would help make me popular. I thought people would like me. But I guess the guys came with expectations. I don't know if it was the rumours other girls spread, or if it was just because my boobs are huge, but there always came a point in the date where they just wanted it too bad."

I wanted to express empathy. I wanted to be a good older brother and swear to protect her and to go around breaking legs of boys who'd done her wrong. But I was horny as all fuck, and she had my dick in her hands.

"Go on," was all I could say.

"I never did anything," she said, "Or I never went all the way. I tried, with boys I liked, to give them blowjobs. It never worked. I couldn't ever make them come. Everybody would just finish jacking themselves off on my tits."

Maybe it was the crassness of her language that made me look down at her just then, but when I did, she was staring straight up at me to meet my gaze. She was still stroking my cock, only softer now and slower.

"It made me super self-conscious," she said, "Like maybe I was doing something wrong. Like I wasn't good enough for guys except to be a pair of tits to come on." She dropped her gaze to meet my erection eye to eye. "This thing is a monster," she said, "Can I try just putting it in my mouth, and you tell me if I'm doing something wrong?"

Her soft strokes and gentle gaze and the slow rise and fall of her breath in her chest had already had me super excited, and I was barely conscious of her speaking except for the beautiful din of her voice and the distant realization of what she was asking.

"Yes," I said, "Yes. Yes."

I was so barely cognizant that I almost didn't notice my head tilting back. I only felt. I only felt her stroking pace quicken, and the light touch of her lips on the tip of my penis. I only felt the swabs of her tongue as it circled my head. I only felt her lips tighten around my shaft, her darting tongue lubing up every inch of my straining erection as she slowly took it in her mouth. I only felt bliss as she slowly sucked her lips back up to the shaft from the furthest ingress her inexperienced throat could make on my cock. She bobbed her head back and forth a few times, before she opened her lips and let my dick slide free.

"You can just come on my tits if you want," she said.

"No," I said, "No, please keep going. Just mind your teeth a little."

She smiled bright, kissed the tip of my cock again and took it in her mouth. She sucked again and again, this time more freely and liberally than before. Gradually the speed at which she sucked me grew, and the faster she went she gradually reached deeper and deeper parts of her throat to swallow my throbbing dick. It could have been two minutes, or five, or twenty for all I could tell from in heaven, before I built to an explosive climax and burst my seed deep into the recesses of my sister's throat.

"Oh god," I moaned as I was coming, "Oh god, yes."

The slow dawn of earth came upon me, and I looked down as Sam gently sucked the last drops out of my gradually shrinking member. It was so ecstatically pleasant that I almost had to pull out in order to survive. When she was finished, she smacked her lips, and reached around on the ground next to her. Finding only her camisole, she spit what she had left in her mouth into its fabric.

"Thank you," she said, "That was fun."

"Yeah," I said, "Yeah, it was."

She got up from her knees, tossed her camisole at the laundry hamper without success, and crawled into her bed.

"It's too bad we don't have a laundry machine here for that thing," I said, pointing with my head. "It's sure getting dirty."

"That's okay," she said, "I don't think I'll be needing it."