I read a story on Literotica which reminded me a lot of what happened between my sister and me about eight years ago. I must add that she is happily married now and that nothing of this sort has happened in about seven years. I had forgotten all about it until I read that story.
First, let me introduce myself: I am an Indian guy, 31 years old now, I am about 6 feet tall, 160 lbs, with short dark hair. I wonât go into the background about where I am from in India since that is irrelevant here. Almost all Indian people are the same when it comes to having strict family values and even talking about sex with your sibs or parents is considered a crime worthy of social abandonment. It is the taboo that makes sex so appealing and you almost feel like you are playing with fire when you even fantasize about sex and your sister happens to be a part of your fantasy.
The lord knows I have fantasized about every inch of her body and grown up jerking off to mentally crafted images of her ever since she hit puberty and ever since I noticed the little mounds on her chest develop into B-sized lobes of love. Ever since I saw a brand new womenâs razor appear in the bathroom, I knew the little angel had sprouted into one fine woman! She shaved. And something told me she shaved more than just her armpits. My sister is four years younger than I am. She is not particularly hot but she is cute nonetheless. She is petite, about 5 feet 2, about 95 pounds, with nice, supple B cup breasts with large dark brown nipples and a shapely body, and an ass so big, it is worthy of a grand prize, considering she is an Indian girl and no offense, but Indian girls arenât exactly blessed with black genes when it comes to butts. My apologies to all Indian female readers but I am sure even you guys would agree.
As I mentioned, this stuff is from about 8 years ago. We had recently come to the United States with our mom and dad and had started school together. We used to live in Boston then, since my father is a professor and he had been recently granted professorship at Tufts, which is a just outside of Boston, in Amherst. He is a smart man, very intelligent and qualified but he barely made any money for us to get by. When he got a chance to move to the United States, he brought us all with him and being a traditional Indian family, we all lived together at home. The first apartment that had been allotted to us by his university was a two bedroom hole in the wall, with no living room and a half-ass kitchen. The bathroom was the size of an airplane toilet and almost every wall in the apartment had at least a million cracks. Even the wooden floors made squeaky noises when you walked on them, and if you walked with reckless abandon, stomping your feet like my sister, you would start praying that the floor doesnât collapse and you donât end up in the bathroom of the person living underneath you! Needless to say the apartment had no air-conditioning, no sound or water proofing and the locks on bedroom doors served more of a decorative purpose than actual locking or protection. My mom and dad took one bedroom and my sister was given the other. I ended up on the couch in the tiny living room. However, I was allowed to leave my clothes and my stuff in my sisterâs bedroom.
Sorry for the long intro. As I said, the apartment was so small, you could hear almost everything going on in any other corner of the house. Mom and dad used to work and my sister and I went to school. I used to get home early since I was in college and she was still in high school. I knew her routine by heart. A sex-starved young man, new in this country with little knowledge of English, I was stuck with her: the only girl who existed in my life at that time, my sister Nisha. She used to come home every day and went straight to her room. This is when the fun started to kick in.
I could hear her take off her shirt first. The movement of the clothes was clearly audible in the living room which was right next to her bedroom. Then she took off her pants. I would just picture her unbuttoning, unzipping, and then wriggling out of her tight jeans, undressing in front of the mirror. She would step out of one leg, then the other. I knew now she was standing only in her bra and panties. This is when my hand started to creep towards my crotch. I could then hear her reach around her back and unhook her bra. She took it off and then went for her panties. The panties used to just roll off her ass easily as I didnât hear any sound but I could tell that she was lifting her one leg and out, and then the other side came out. Now I knew she was standing there, buck naked in front of the mirror, only about 4 feet away from me, but in the other room. So close but oh so far! Then she used to put on her Indian clothes at home. First she got hold of a clean bra, then she put her shalwar (loose bottoms) on, and then the shirt. Indian girls usually donât wear panties at home. The shalwars are very loose and the long shirts usually reach way below their butts, so you cannot really tell the shape. Anyway, this used to be my routine everyday: wait for her to get home, listen to her rip her clothes off that warm, young, supple and vibrant body, and I used to just lay on the couch, with my hands in my pants. Then I used to get up and just walk to the bathroom and finish it off.
The incidents I am about to describe started happening about a couple of months after I had gotten used to get myself off from the sounds of her changing her clothes. Several incidents before that led up to me ending up in bed with my sister, with her legs closed together, trying to stop my cock from entering her doorway to heaven, half resisting and half allowing me, saying âNo bhayya, noâ but meaning âYes bhayya yes, fuck me as hard as you can, for as long as you can.â
One day she came home from school and went to her room as usual. I was on the couch, pretending to watch TV. I used to keep the volume low so she didnât notice the drop off in volume when I muted it while trying to listen to her change. As the norm was, she went in, took off her top, then her pants, then her bra and then the panties came rolling off. Usually she would just pick up another bra and continue to dress up but that didnât happen on this day. After her panties came off, there was a pause. I was just waiting for her to put a new bra on but no. I had muted the TV, listening intently. This time, I heard her walk. Then I heard her sit on the bed. She was in her room, naked from head to toe, and instead of putting clothes on, she was laying on her bed. The bed creaked, and I could hear her stretch out. I do not know what she did on the bed. But she laid there for about 15 minutes, then got up and put her clothes on. âShe must be really exhausted and maybe was trying to relieve some stressâ, I thought to myself. This became the daily routine, however. She used to always get naked and then relax on her for a little while.
The routine changed then. One day about 5 minutes after she had retreated to her bed, naked, with nothing on, ârelaxingâ as I had thought, I heard her bed move. I heard the sort of creaks that you hear when someone changes sides on an old bed while sleeping. But the creaks werenât intermittent. This was constant shaking. The bed continued to shake, in a slow rhythmic motion at first and then fast. Then a little faster, and then so fast I had no doubt in my mind what she was doing. She was masturbating! My little sister, about 4 feet away from me, albeit on the other side of the wall, lying there buck naked on her bed, fingering her pussy violently. Her virgin pussy, which I am sure no foreign hands had touched⊠she was rubbing it and manipulating it and doing whatever she wanted to it⊠This continued for about 20 minutes and then silence! I found my hands inside my pants moving faster as the noises from her bed grew louder. She figured I had the TV on and I probably couldnât hear her, but little did she know. She finished herself off, got up, got dressed and then came out of the room looking normal.
Her masturbation had become a daily routine now. Except that she took a three to four day break in the first week. She might have been on her period, I donât know. But then she started doing it daily, with everyday being louder and more violent than the previous.
