Falling For Jennifer

Falling for Jennifer

All characters in this story are imaginary and bear no resemblance to persons living or dead. All are over the age of 18.

*****

I never meant to catch my sister naked. It was an accident, one of those moments when you are walking along, minding your own business, and then suddenly -

wham!

- it happens.

I had arrived home early and I put the car keys on the hall table and walked through to my bedroom. The house is 'L' shaped, and as I moved down the carpeted hallway I looked to my left, as you do, down the corridor. The bathroom door was open and she was stood at the sink, her back to the door, as naked as the day she came into the world.

Jenny is a tall girl, probably about five-ten and she's slim - good proportions, if you know what I mean. She was bent over the sink doing something with her hair and her legs were splayed out a little to get her down to the height she wanted without having to bend her knees. It was an arresting sight, I can tell you: long shapely legs, firm and well toned, and impossibly long - they just seemed to go on for ever, up and up, each thigh a model of perfection until they reached the neatest little ass I've ever seen. It was firm and round, each cup-cake buttock beautifully defined...just begging to be grasped - framed by the flare of her hips and the tight curve of her waist. The flesh of her back was as smooth as alabaster, a sort of creamy-white colour, marked only by the faint outline of where her bra-straps had been. Her head was down, hidden behind her shoulders, and the sound of running water drowned out my little gasp of surprise.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes glued to the view. I guess my mouth dropped open too - in shock and surprise. Shock because one moment I'd been thinking about work and the next I had this vision in front of me, only a dozen paces away. Surprise because I'd lived in the same house as Jen for years and never realised just what she had hiding under the jeans and baggy sweaters she liked to wear. It was like finding you had a pile of money under the floor that you never knew you had.

I don't know how long I stood there, gawping at her. Long enough to pick up the little details: the thin gold chain around one shapely ankle: the dimples behind her knees; the smooth olive warmth of her skin, good enough to eat; the little curve under each buttock that defined their roundness, and the neat little crease above them where the crack of her bum began. Best of all though, was the sight of her little pussy peeping back at me from between the cheeks of her ass as she bent forwards. It was in shadow but I was close enough to see it clearly, hiding like a little furry animal in a cave with a few wisps of hair around it, as fine a spun gold - testimony to the fact that she was a genuine blonde.

She must have sensed my gaze, as I stood there staring at her. She stopped all movement and was still for a moment, listening, and then she pushed herself up and turned her head slowly, her eyes peering backwards through the little gap between the smooth skin of her waist and one her arms. For a moment she was motionless, her eyes on my face. I felt the hot flush of embarrassment staining my cheeks at being caught - but I just couldn't move: and then she stood up slowly and turned towards me - just standing there, front on. Her breasts were bigger than I had imagined, sitting firm and upright on her ribcage, the nipples thick and protruding. Her pussy hair was neatly trimmed back and the lips of her vulva were slightly open, revealing a gleam of pink wetness behind them; and her hair was wet, a dark blonde, lying around her face as she regarded me.

For a long time we stared at each other. Her eyes were grey and steady, neither embarrassed nor angry. She allowed them to roam over me - moving over my body slowly, resting on my crotch for a few moments before sliding back to my face. I could see a gleam of amusement in them, an awareness of the sudden impact she had made on me, and her mouth curled slightly in the faintest of a smile: her teeth so white behind the softness of her lips. I caught the sound of her chuckle: a throaty little laugh that promised almost as much as the sight of her body had - and then she leaned forward and quite slowly and deliberately closed the door, shutting out the best thing I'd seen in a decade.

*****

I was reading a book in the lounge and the words were a shapeless blur. My mind was filled with the vision I had just seen... the golden skin, the teardrop breasts and her little furry pussy - and the calm grey of her eyes as she watched me looking at it. Pink Wet. Slightly open. And all this time she had been living with me and I had never noticed. Ah, God, how can a day change so much?

I heard her footsteps on the tiles in the kitchen and she walked in. Her hair was still damp, but tied back in a little pony tail that lay across the vivid blue material of her blouse like a strip of gold bullion. I looked up at her guiltily.

"I'm...sorry, Jen. I - I didn't know you were there. I was surprised."

She stopped and looked down at me. "You sure took your time being surprised."

I was silent, not knowing what to say.

"Well, what have you got to say?"

"I've said I'm sorry."

She leaned forward a little. "Sorry for what, David, for catching me, or for standing there for half an hour perving when you did?"

I stared up at her. She was still looking at me, her eyes bright. "I wasn't perving."

She laughed. "Well, you sure gave a good impression of a perve." She turned her head on the side and fixed a glassy look on her face, poking her tongue out of the side of her mouth for a moment in an expression of imbecilic attention. "Just like that, David, for half an hour. I surprised you didn't drown in the drool that was sliding down your chin."

I laughed with her. "I wish it had been half an hour. Anyway, its your fault."

"Me? How's that?"

"Well, you looked - um, I mean, well - you were worth looking at. Now, if you'd been ugly I'd have moved right on along."

"So you're saying that you liked what you saw."

I looked her in the face. "Sure."

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much did you like what you saw?"

"I don't know what you mean."

She laughed again. "Sure you do...in fact, I saw how much you liked it... a lot, judging by the reaction. A

huge

amount."

I felt myself colouring again. "So why are you asking me, if you already know?"

"Just checking." She turned away but stopped by the door and looked at me again. "It was a perve, you know. Now you owe me." And before I could answer she had gone in a flurry of skirt, leaving a trace of her perfume and a disturbing memory of that long, golden body.

Over the next few weeks our relationship, if you could call it that, returned to normal. We both work so we were doing our own thing, only bumping into each other from time to time. Nothing in what she said or did gave a hint of what had happened and the busy tempo of our lives gradually pushed it to the background. At times I would dwell on what I had seen - mostly at night when I lay in bed and played the tape in my head again - but the clarity of the image gradually diminished. I never really connected it with going further, either: we were sister and brother, and siblings just didn't do that. It had been a pleasurable few moments of my life, and time had moved on.

I guess it would have died altogether, like a faded photograph that is finally thrown in the trash, had she not come by my room that day. It was stinking hot: one of those heavy, oppressive days when the air is as thick as a wet sponge. The usual thunderclouds had built up in the afternoon and hung in the western sky in towering castles of lead and pewter, but the rain that everyone begged for still had not come. You could almost

feel

the oppressive air crushing down on the town, robbing everyone of energy. All you wanted to do was to lie down.

I had left early and I stripped off and lay on my bed with my eyes shut listening to the occasional growl of thunder to the west and feeling the trickle of sweat on my skin. The house was quiet - no dogs barking, no shrilling cicadas - not even the swish of traffic on the freeway three blocks away. It was as if the world had stopped and I was the only survivor, lying in my bed in a stupor with my eyes shut, dreaming of air conditioning. I could hear the muffled tick of the old grandfather clock in the hallway and then the faint clunk of its mechanism as it reached the hour and prepared to chime: the crisp click of the gearing, lifting the hammer, drawing it back...and then the first chime, too loud to be through a closed door: and I opened my eyes and saw her.

Jen had opened the door and moved silently across the room to stand next to the bed. She was leaning forward slightly, her weight balanced on one foot as if ready to flee and she was dressed only in a sleeveless sports top and panties. I could see the gleam of perspiration on her skin and the hair at her temples was discoloured with sweat, darker than its normal shade of pale honey. Her breasts were full and round, pushing against the material of her top, and I could discern the outline of her nipples against the weave of the cloth and the dark shadow of her aureole around them. The thin fabric of her pants was stretched tightly over her mound, the filigree lace delicate against the golden tan of her skin. She held her head at a slight angle, looking down at my nakedness as if puzzled by what she saw, and there was an expression of guilt on her face, like that of a little girl reaching out to steal a cookie.

She must have known I was aware if her, but she didn't look at my face. She turned a little, almost sideways on so that I could see the swell of her ass filling the white lace panties, and the curtain of her hair dropped forward to hide her expression. She was very close to me. The film of sweat on her skin gleamed in the pale light from the window; and I could see the fine golden down on her arms and in the crack of her ass just above the elastic of her knickers. I could smell her, too: the fragrance of her perfume, overlaid with more powerful aromas: salt and sweat and the faint musk of excitement. She bent forward a little more as if to inspect me closer, and the elastic leg of her panties moved over the curve of her buttock to reveal a crescent of firm flesh - and beyond it the dark shadow of her crotch with the tight gusset of her pants snug between the golden thighs.

I visualized what was behind that strip of damp fabric: the plump lips that I had seen before, but now wet with the heat and perhaps open a little wider than before... and the tight little orifice behind it, crimped and snug between the fragrant cheeks of her ass. I imagined the dampness there - the press of her wet flesh against the material, the leak of her juices into the weave of the fabric, as sweet as fresh honey. My cock grew hard quickly, moving silently over my belly to stand proud, bobbing slightly as she watched. The head distended and swelled, purple against the pale skin of my belly, and a drop of clear lubricant dribbled from the tip like a pearl against the darker hue of arousal.

For a few moments more she watched it, her body quite motionless, and then she stretched out her hand and touched me with the tip of one finger, resting it gently against the heated flesh of my rod. I could feel the pressure of her fingertip against the base of my shaft; and then, ever so gently, she drew it slowly along my full length until it reached the very tip. My cock lurched in response and a fresh trickle of lubricant escaped from the end, oozing against the tip of her finger, stringing out in a fine thread of silver as she lifted her hand away. Almost without thinking she pressed it to her lips and the tip of her tongue dabbed the shiny wet pad, and then, as if suddenly realising what she had done, she turned away and almost ran to the door.

She stopped there and turned towards me. "Now we're quits, David," she said, but her voice was gusty and uncertain.

I said nothing. I didn't need to. She could read it in my face and I saw her confusion. She turned again and ran down the corridor towards the sanctuary of her room to shut out the lust in my eyes.

I suppose that was the moment I stopped thinking about her as my sister - I figured she had moved beyond the normal relationship when she stroked my cock and tasted my pre-cum. She was fair game now and it was clear to me that I wasn't the only one enjoying it, for I had seen the flash of her little white panties as she ran with a dark stain of her desire at the crutch.

I seized my cock and stroked it, imagining how she would straddle me and lower herself onto my straining rod. I knew how tight she would be how she would move, and I could feel the cloying heat of her cunt and the tight rhythmic undulation of her hips. I imagined how she would look as I stared up at her face: her mouth open, lips slack and wet and her hair moving languorously back and forth as we fucked; and I could feel the satin of her thighs either side of my hips and the press of her hands on my chest to steady herself. My hand gripped harder, flying along the shaft, feeling the inexorable spiral of pleasure until that one tremulous instant where I was balanced on the very edge of time: and then I spurted. A groan of intense pleasure burst from my lips and great streams of thick, steaming jism burst from the head, desperate to be inside my sister's body but finding only the skin of my belly on which to land.

And immediately afterwards, as I lay in my hot little room panting with the effort of my exertions, I thought I heard furtive footsteps back away from my still open door and then the soft click of a latch as she locked herself in her bedroom. I wondered if she had watched me spurting and known who was the subject of my lust.

I wondered if she would soon be doing what I had just done, and I ached to be with her.

*****

One morning when Mum was out I let myself silently into the bathroom, desperate to see her again. Jen was in the shower and the room was filled with steam, fragrant with the smell of soap and shampoo. I sat on the toilet and watched. I could see the pale blur of her body through the wet glass and hear her singing, and although I couldn't see much the thought of her wet naked body only a few feet away had a powerful effect on me. My cock stiffened in response.

There was a scrap of material lying on the mat and I stooped to pick it up, the material thin and filmy in my fingers: it was her panties, still warm from her body, and I turned them over in my hand and pressed the gusset to my face, remembering when they had been filled by her curves and hidden valleys...and how I had fantasized about her aroma trapped in the weave of the fabric. I breathed in and it was there, faint but unmistakable - the smell of my sister's pussy. The musk of her sex was captured in the threads of material just I had envisaged, and it filled my senses.

The shower shut off and I hurriedly stuffed them in my shirt pocket and I waited with my heart hammering in my chest. She had draped her towel over the top of the screen and I saw her hand appear and take it, the fingers slim and delicate, and then I heard her voice.

"Is that you, David?"

"Yes....how did you know?"

She laughed. "I felt the draft when you opened the door. Don't ever think of becoming a burglar." She paused, then in a more curious tone: "What are you doing?"

"Waiting to see you naked."

"You've been there five minutes...haven't you seen enough?"

"I couldn't see anything," I admitted. "The room was all steamed up."

She laughed again. "Yeah. I bet it wasn't the hot water that was causing it, either, you pervert. All that heavy breathing...not good for you, David. You'll hyperventilate and fall over." The shower door suddenly slid back and she stepped out, the towel wrapped around her. "So, her I am, big brother. You've seen me now - are you satisfied?" She was smiling, clearly delighted by the thought I had been cheated of my goal.

"That's not fair. You got to see me."

"That was payback - we were quits remember? This is blatant escalation, coming in here -" she suddenly broke off, her eyes narrowing on my chest. "What's that in your pocket?"

I glanced down. A fold of filmy material was poking out, the lace edging clearly visible. "Uh, where -"

"There." She darted forward and tried to snatch them out of my pocket but my hand beat her to it, squishing them against my chest. She struggled to unclasp my fingers but after a moment gave up.

"Give them to me, David."

"Nope."

"They're mine."

"I found them. Finders keepers."

"What are you going to do with them?" She was angry now.

"Oh, I don't know. Pin them on my wall...take them to work. Maybe I'll just sniff them -"

"That's disgusting!" She regarded me for a moment. "Give them back, David."

"Say please."

"No! Give them to me."

"Ah-ah. Be nice - say please."

She glowered at me. "Please."

"You'll have to do something for me."

"Like what?"

I pretended to think for a moment. "Oh, I don't know...wash my car or do all my ironing for a week...or you could drop the towel."

"You've seen it."

"Not this week. And I get to touch, like you did."

"No! No touching."

I regarded her. "Well, that's not fair, but OK. Just to look, then."

She stared at me a moment with anger still in her eyes, and then she sort of shrugged a little and stepped back, undoing the towel as she did. "Promise me you won't touch."

"I won't." My voice was scratchy with excitement.

"OK - well....there!" She dropped the towel and it pooled at her feet. She was enjoying her power over me.

For the second time in a month I saw my sister stark naked, but this time it was better. I was closer, for one thing - only two or three feet away - close enough to see everything. Not a wrinkle or sag marked her body - it was exquisite, fashioned by a craftsman in long, flowing curves, each complementing the other in perfect proportion. Her breasts were full and round, the flesh a pale milky colour - almost translucent under the glare of the bathroom light. I could see the fine web of veins under the skin, radiating outwards from the dusky pink of her aureole, and her nipples were erect - hard little nubs of flesh like soldiers at attention, betraying her excitement. She loved the attention, the acknowledgement of her beauty. She could have anybody but she wanted to show me.

My eyes roamed over her body like the touch of a lover, lingering on the curves and valleys, past the swell of her hips and sliding over the flat plain of her belly, still damp from the shower, to where her pussy waited. The last time I had seen it there was a little crown of hair above it, neatly trimmed to look like an arrow pointing downwards; now there was nothing. It was shaven clean, her cleft smooth and pink, the lips of her vulva neatly arranged either side. My eyes fastened on it, imagining in an instant how tight it would be and how the clasp of her thighs would feel as they drew me into her centre. She shifted under my gaze and the movement caused her labia to open a touch, the flesh inside her clean and pink and moist. I let out a little sigh.

"OK, buster," she said. "Now pick your tongue up off the floor and give me back my panties."

I pulled them from my pocket, my eyes still fixed on her pussy, and I flicked them to the far side of the room. They fell in a little pile of liquid silk against the closed door.

I looked up at her face. The anger had gone and her expression was inscrutable, but there was a gleam of amusement in her eyes together with other emotions...power, perhaps, and mischief, and also excitement. For a moment longer she stood in front of me, her eyes on mine: and then, quite deliberately, she turned her back on me and bent over to pick them up.