Dare You Sis

Dare you, Sis

I hated my brother. He spent my formative years embarrassing me and humiliating me in front of his older friends, many of whom I fancied, or had crushes on. He used my nicknames from when I was a little kid, told stories of the silly things I did and tried everything he could to exclude me.

Perhaps that's typical sibling rivalry. Perhaps I was a pain and wouldn't give him his own space - a typical little sister - but it hurt me.

However, at my eighteenth birthday party, he came up to me and embraced me. "Little sis. You've been a pain in my arse for years now, but you've grown up. You're a fully grown woman. Time we put all that behind us and started to move on. Time to be adults."

I hugged him back, relieved that he finally seemed ready to stop seeing me as a kid. It would be so good to just get on with life, not worry that every boyfriend would be regaled with stories about me, shown embarrassing photos or have all my childhood crushes revealed. Perhaps we could double-date, get together for meals. He could date my friends and I could date his. We could discuss politics and art, not who had the last biscuit or spent longer in the bathroom.

He might even help me settle in at University. We were not a wealthy family, and living away from home would have been impossible. Mum made ends meet - just - and Jamie's job in a local pub, and my serving job at a local pizza restaurant gave us a bit extra. It still wasn't enough, but it meant we could work towards our degrees at the same local University.

It was a few days after my eighteenth that a strange chain of events began.

Mum was out working. She was always working. Since dad left when we were just kids, she had no choice. I went to the bathroom, only to find there were no towels. Jamie must have one in his room. I had heard him showering earlier, and was pretty certain he would have gone to Uni now, so I stomped down the landing to his room, wearing my shorts and vest pyjamas.

I didn't bother knocking - after all, I was sure he would be out. I opened the door and walked straight in. Then I stood and gawped at what I saw. I shouldn't have. I should have turned and left immediately, but I was so amazed that I just stood in stunned disbelief.

He was lying on the bed, naked, with his laptop open beside him. His penis was erect and his hand was wrapped around it. I caught a glimpse of the laptop screen - it was a picture of a naked woman. A woman I recognised. My best friend, Emma.

I looked from him to her, realising that she must have taken the picture - it was clearly a selfie - and sent it to him. I should have looked at his face, but my eyes were drawn to his 'thing'. It was impressive - not that I had much experience - but it looked large, based on the online porn I had looked at, and giggly conversations with girlfriends. I also found it attractive.

He got past the shock first, reacting in his usual, angry manner.

"Fuck off. Get out of my room. For fuck's sake, Bex."

He jumped off the bed and came towards me, intent on pushing me out of the room and slamming the door. I reacted first, dashing away before he got to me and running down the corridor to my room and shutting the door.

My stomach was fluttering and I was breathless. We were not a family who wandered around naked. I couldn't remember the last time I saw my brother naked - and now, to find him masturbating over a picture of my best friend.

I giggled. I was a bit upset with Emma. I would have to ask how she came to be sending him these photos, but the fluttering in my stomach, the nervous tension, always made me giggly - and catching him like that would lead to endless teasing (in private, of course).

There was a knock on my door and Jamie walked in, now wearing boxer shorts and a t-shirt.

"What the fuck are you playing at. You know you don't come into my room. That's my space. My private space."

I explained the situation, and he seemed to accept my perspective. However, I still could not stop the bubbling giggles which overtook me. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself.

"Now what's so bloody funny?" He snapped.

"Sorry," I tittered, "Just seeing you like that." I glanced at his shorts, and a new fit of laughter overcame me. He looked down, and realised that although he was covered, the outline of his semi-erect member was clearly framed, resting on the material like a banana.

He adjusted himself, in an effort to hide his embarrassment. "Well. You're not much better." He indicated my boobs, and I looked down, seeing my nipples protruding proudly against the material. They were very erect, and it made me aware that, in fact, I had been quite turned on by seeing him. I could even feel a little moisture between my thighs.

I decided to go on the attack. "How did you get a picture of Emma?"

He blushed. "It's not really her. Just a model's body with her face. Don't tell her, for fuck's sake. I edited a photo, that's all. It's just for me, no-one else."

"Hmm..." I pretended to think, "I wonder what she'd think. So much bribery material."

"Don't you fucking dare." In truth, I would never tell her. She would be mortified, and it just wasn't the sort of thing we discussed. She disliked Jamie anyway - she had watched him tease me over the years and knew what he was like. Still. So much ammunition.

"You owe me, little sis."

I laughed. "Bollocks."

"You've seen me, now it's my turn to see you."

"Piss off."

Just then, the front door opened. Mum was home from work - a night shift. Jamie glared at me as I smiled triumphantly, and stalked back to his room.

Mum made breakfast, which was a tense affair. Jamie kept glaring at me, and I just focused on eating. Perhaps sausages were an unfortunate choice, because as I looked at them on my plate, they kept morphing in my mind, growing larger, more pink. One end swelled and turned reddish purple, with a small slit at the end, and I shuffled two pieces of cauliflower to the other end. The cloud like surface transformed into a bag of wrinkled skin, containing two oval lumps.

Afterwards, rather than sitting downstairs, watching TV, as I usually did, I returned to my room. I kept picturing Jamie, lying back, naked, stroking himself. My hand slipped down the front of my shorts and touched the wetness between my legs. My hand slipped between the lips of my slit, finding that hard little button that felt so good to touch. I started rubbing it, picturing Jamie, and started thinking of other boys I knew. How good it would be to see them naked.

I guess I'm very naïve. Certainly, compared to Emma I am. She had had several boyfriends and had sex with them. She's seven months older than me, and started fucking as soon as she could. She's very sexy, and likes to wear revealing clothes that show off plenty of skin. In truth, it wouldn't have surprised me if she had posed naked for photos. She was one of those people who treated the human body as totally natural. "I'm comfortable in my skin" she always said.

I was different. Mum had brought us up to be secretive about our bodies, and we always covered up around the house. Not like Emma. She said her family were always wandering around naked and no-one thought anything of it.

I was not a virgin. That sounds odd after everything I've said, but I was not. My one sexual experience had been on the night of my eighteenth birthday. I had got very drunk with my friends, and had gone into a dark alley behind the pub with a boy I met. We had a hugely unsatisfying sexual experience. He groped my tits, pulled up my skirt, fingered my pussy and shoved his thing in.

It was over after a few shoves with his hips. He didn't even take my knickers off. I was left a bit sore, very wet and smelling of lubricant off the condom. He disappeared and I went back to my friends. No glorious, romantic setting. No wonderful, shared orgasms. Just the chance to say 'I have fucked'.

In fact, I could barely remember it, and wondered if I had been slipped a date-rape drug. I don't think so. I was just very, very drunk. I didn't touch his penis with my hand, didn't even see it - so here I was, not a virgin, but the first penis I saw in real life was my brother's.

As I rubbed myself, I fantasised about watching him finish the act he had started - his white liquid shooting out of the end as I joined him in my orgasm - quickly, as I'm well practised, and know exactly how to reach my orgasm quickly.

I imagined Jamie watching me. My stomach flipped and my head spun. Then I imagined him and his mates watching me. I felt sick - not with revulsion, but because it excited me so much - but that could never happen.

I needed to get dressed and change my pyjamas. The shorts were wet, and reeked of my scent. I smiled. I like my scent. I sniffed my fingers, then, tentatively, put out my tongue and licked. I wondered if all girls do that. I since found out that a lot of us do. Why not? It's nice.

Then my door was ripped open, and Jamie was there.

"Look, sis, don't tell anyone what you saw. Please."

He didn't seem angry any more. That was good.

"Look. All guys do it, and since I split up with Jules, well... y'know... I need an outlet. I don't really mind that you saw me. Actually - it's a bit of a turn on - but the pics - the fakes of Emma. Please, please don't tell anyone."

Our conversation took place in hissed whispers, so as not to disturb mum, who had gone to bed.

I thought about it. "Can I see the pics? Just to check they're fakes. Knowing Emma, I wouldn't be surprised if they're real."

I was enjoying seeing him so uncomfortable, and this new, sexy link we had found. In truth, we had never discussed sex before. It had been a taboo subject. I knew Jamie had sex with his girlfriends, but it was one of those things we pretended never happened.

He left my room and came back with his laptop, opening it up and navigating to a file with half a dozen photos. All of them showed a naked body with Emma's face, probably from her social media. I looked at each photo.

I could see they were obvious fakes. The head was slightly the wrong size, didn't fit correctly and just looked 'wrong'. The body was also wrong. I had seen Emma naked many times as she wandered around changing rooms, not caring, while I hid away in a corner, not even wanting the other girls to look.

"She doesn't look like Emma," I commented, enjoying Jamie's discomfort, "her boobs are bigger, and her nipples are much lighter - they're bigger too. Well - the bit round them is." It was true. Emma's boobs were probably a B cup, while those on the picture must have been a D.

"And she shaves all around her... lady parts. Emma has a little strip of hair up the middle. It looks quite pretty."

I noticed a small bulge in Jamie's shorts. It was fun talking like this, getting him worked up. I had chosen a photo where the 'body' was holding her labia open, lewdly, and despite my churning stomach and shaking hands, I wanted to make my brother embarrassed.

He grabbed the laptop and slammed it shut. "Just don't tell anyone. And sis. You still owe me. You saw me, now I get to see you."

I laughed again. "Forget it."

"No. It's only fair. Tell you what. You let me see you and I'll let you see me again."

The thought was a huge turn on for me. Both of us, naked, looking at each other. I answered, without really thinking of the implications.

"So you can finish what you started? Looking at me instead of Emma? You're joking."

He was getting annoyed, so I decided to ease the tension.

"We'll see. I won't say anything - but maybe you owe me. What's it worth to say nothing?"

He was about to reply angrily, then stopped. "Well - what's it worth for me not to tell people that my sister spies on me? That she sneaks about, trying to see me naked, and she deliberately came into my room to catch me. You'd look like a total perv."

He was right. I thought again. Could I actually let him see me naked? I felt a sudden rush of warmth between my legs, my stomach did a somersault and I realised I was breathing rapidly. Maybe I was a pervert, but the idea seemed incredibly exciting - I just didn't think I could actually go through with it.

"I'll... I'll think about it." I stammered.

"You'd better. I'm going out. I'll be back later. Mum's at work tonight, so I'll want an answer."

He disappeared, leaving me with a day of thinking. I wished I had work, or something to distract me, but as it was, I was left with nothing but my thoughts - and, in truth, I was very turned on.

It was a relief when mum woke up, as I had spent hours wondering what to do. I stripped naked and looked at myself in the mirror. My figure was OK. I had nice boobs - bigger than Emma's, with clearly defined areolae - brown, in line with the Mediterranean skin tone inherited from my dad. Jamie was blonde and pale, like mum.

I turned and looked at my bum. It was firm and toned, thanks to my football and cricket. I had followed Jamie into sport, playing girls' football and cricket, and moving into the women's sports as I got older. I think some people thought that playing alongside men meant that I would be more open around them, but the safeguarding measure made certain that was not the case. Just the opposite.

I looked between my legs. Like most of the women at my sports' clubs, I kept myself hairless. It was partly to be like them, but also because it was cleaner - especially when I had my period. It was also better after I played sport. Being hot and sweaty was one thing, but having it all trapped in a bush of pubic hair (I was quite hairy, due to my darker skin tone) made me feel smelly.

I got a shaving mirror from the bathroom and set it so I could see everything. I had done this several times before - mainly because one of my teachers had said that some women did not like their private parts, and we should look closely at them, and realise that they are beautiful. I tried it, and found she was right.

I looked at my vulva - what an awful word - wrinkly, framing my slit. Then I used two fingers to open them. Inside was a deeper red, and I was already a little wet, from y thoughts and touches. I saw the little nub of my clitoris. I knew that when I was turned on, it would get bigger, poking out for me to play with.

Then I looked at the hole beneath. I slipped a finger in, feeling it slide up, and enjoying watching. I tried two fingers, reaching for that nice, soft, spongy part which felt so good when it was rubbed.

I stopped. It felt wrong to play with myself while I thought about my brother's penis. Anyway, I decided I looked quite good. But did that mean I should strip for my brother? I had no idea.

Eventually, I went out to visit Emma. I think she knew something was wrong, and she was upset when I wouldn't tell her, but it was not something I wanted to discuss. She prattled on about her new boyfriend, and how obsessed he was with her boobs. How his cock was very tactile, and she loved giving him handjobs in strange places (on the bus, at the table in a fast-food restaurant, at a concert etc.). I let her talk, eventually knowing I had to go home and face Jamie.

When I got home, mum was at work. Another night shift. I tried to sneak past Jamie's room, but he must have heard me coming in.

"Sis. Come here."

Shit. I could hardly just ignore him. I went into his room, where he was lying on the bed.

"Well?" He asked. "What's your answer?"

I couldn't. It would be too embarrassing. Standing in front of him, naked, while he looked me up and down. No.

"I... I... No."

He looked at me and smiled. "Dare you."

I drew a deep breath. Why had he done that? As kids we always dared each other. Nothing sexy, of course, just stupid things - ring the neighbour's bell and run away, touch the body of a dead bird, jump in the stream, roll down the hill - daft things. BUT! I always said I would never refuse a dare. It was my 'thing'. It was a matter of pride.

I stopped and glared at him.

"Seriously? You dare me to... get... naked for you? And I get a dare too?"

"Yep!" He replied. "You get to dare me."

Could I do it? Could I really be naked for him? My stomach was in knots. If I did this - what next? But if I didn't, my pride would be shot to pieces. Maybe... if my dare to him was bad enough, then he would let me off.

"My dare for you is... while I do my dare, you be as you were the other day, and finish what you were doing, while I watch. And I get to take photos."

I didn't really want photos, but I thought that might just be enough to stop him wanting to go through with it.

He looked at me, unsure, then seemed to arrive at a decision.

"Done."

We looked at each other, neither of us sure what to say next. I decided to ask the obvious question.

"Er... what now?"

He thought briefly, then smiled.

"How about making a game of it. High card. One card each, whoever gets the lowest card takes something off."

I agreed. I had no better ideas. Jamie produced a pack of cards, shuffled them and held them out to me. I chose one. Eight of clubs. Not bad. He drew the six of diamonds. I released a long breath.

In truth, I was terrified. He would be the first man to see me naked. I felt my cheeks become warm as I blushed. I was still hoping he would back out, and was unsure that I would be able to go through with taking off my underwear. My stomach churned as he lifted off his t-shirt.

In truth, he had a nice body. Like me, he played sport and was quite muscular. Seeing his chest and stomach was hardly a big deal, though - we had been on holidays together for years, and I had seen him in swimming trunks, just as he had seen me in a bikini. The thought made me feel a little better - at least I would lose two items before he saw anything he hadn't seen before.

Next turn. I drew a three. My heart sank, and my hand began to shake. I was about to lose my top. He drew a queen.

I was determined not to look like a wimp, so I unbuttoned my top quickly. Sadly, my shaking fingers gave me away. I fumbled the buttons, and my effort to look cool failed miserably. Eventually, I undid every button. I looked at Jamie, but he just lay back, smiling.

Suddenly, I had a totally irrational thought. Under my blouse, I was wearing a tatty old sports' bra. I usually wore sports' bras to flatten my chest, as I'm quite well-endowed. Obviously, for playing sport, they had to be 'controlled', but it also meant they didn't get looked at. I felt self-conscious if people (men) stared ay my body, so I tended to hide it away.

However, right now, I wished I had worn something that looked better - the sexy, lacy bra and panties set that pushed my boobs to a cleavage, and knickers which curved around my bum. Emma had convinced me to buy them, against my wishes, and I had only worn them once - to my eighteenth birthday party.

I opened the top, aware of the spreading grin on Jamie's face, and dropped it on his chair.

"Wow, sis. Is that the best bra you've got? You should wear something sexier. Enhance your features. Don't hide them."

"Piss off," I hissed, "I didn't know anyone was going to see them. Anyway. It's only you. It's not like I'd make an effort."

He laughed. He actually laughed. I didn't see what was so funny. Then he stopped suddenly, as if he'd been caught laughing at something that was 'wrong' - like a racist joke, or something about someone who'd died. It was odd.

We drew our next cards. I lost again. If he had commented on my tatty sports' bra, what would he say about my old, faded Wonder Woman knickers? Not only were they old, but they were big. Emma always laughed at my love of knickers that stopped just below my belly button and covered my bum completely. She always wore thongs. When I bought my 'sexy' undies, she wanted me to buy one, but I refused. I didn't want a piece of string to get lost between my bum cheeks.