I really don't know why I agreed to it but I kept reminding myself that it's only for a little over a week. But it's nine days of living with a freaking 19 year-old nun-in-training.
My mom asked if I wouldn't mind putting up my little sister, Angela, in my apartment for those nine days while Angela's place was getting repaired. It seems that the bible college Angela was attending had a slight plumbing problem that trashed a number of dorm rooms and, of course, Angela's was one of them.
But, while my little sister has always been considered the brighter of my parent's two offspring (so determined by my parents, naturally), she is definitely wanting for a little common sense. I guess after dealing with a dorm-room flood of – dare I say it? – biblical proportions, she must have been too busy praying to actually take the time herself to locate temporary digs to stay in while the dorms were being repaired. So, all of the other available housing was snapped up pretty quickly and Angela was left to call mommy and whine about her misfortune.
Things then followed the usual pattern: Angela has a problem and calls daddy. Daddy promises to do something about it and refers Angela to mommy. Mommy calls son to help out Angela. Son hesitates, mommy whines, daddy gets all bent out of shape, and Angela gets what she needed, anyway. Son gets screwed.
Or, more likely, son does
not
get screwed due to having a bible-thumping Virgin Mary hanging around in his apartment and cramping his style and making it hard to invite some young lady to his apartment while he sleeps on the living room couch so she can enjoy the privacy of a bedroom.
It's only nine days. Nine days, is all...
Why, oh, why couldn't I have been blessed with a normal sister that studied Wicca and invited cute girlfriends to come over to my place, dance naked and perform sex rituals, or something?
Come to think of it, maybe I should study Wicca, myself. Oh, yeah... that'd go over real well with Little Miss King James Version, to have her 22 year-old brother be a practicing warlock or some such.
So, to make everybody happy – well, everybody but me – I agreed to let Angela move in to my apartment with me, put her up in my room, hid all of my girly magazines, and set up a guest user account on my computer so I wouldn't have to remove the cool image of a blonde getting a cum facial off of my computer's desktop or hide the files of my favorite porn pictures.
Hey, I was letting her stay with me, not giving up my lifestyle.
It should also be noted that Angela and I aren't what you would call the closest of siblings. In fact, neither of us have pet names for each other, and Angela would never go with 'Ang' or 'Angie', always 'Angela'. We care for each other in a family sort of way and despite my complaints would likely be there for each other in a real disaster, but we're not the type to go beyond a birthday or Christmas card as far as communication goes.
The biggest part of it probably stems all the way back to when she walked in on me and our older but "innocent" cousin Kathy going at it in her pool house about three years ago. Angela had always looked up to Kathy as a bit of a religious role model and for her walk in one day and find me drilling Kathy's hot cunt from behind while Kathy begged for more, well, I guess that was the final straw that drove Angela to bible college and a wedge between my sister and me.
Did I mention that I miss cousin Kathy, too?
Angela arrived on Wednesday, arriving in a cab and looking every bit the schoolmarm, wearing plain, unflattering clothes that made her look 10-plus years older. I couldn't tell you if that was a school uniform or she was getting ready to attend a funeral.
So I showed sis to "her" room for the duration of her stay and told her to ignore the mess in the corner of the living room that would serve as my digs during her stay. I told her that she had access to the computer and to log in under the guest account for her own good.
"What do you mean 'for my own good'?" Angela asked with a quizzical expression.
"Think 'pool house'," I replied. It only took a couple seconds before a hard look passed over her face as my cryptic answer made sense to her.
Angela had agreed to pitch in on the extra groceries and I promised to not leave a pile of dishes for her to pick up about the apartment. I also asked her not to do any rearranging of my stuff or any cleaning up that involved throwing anything out that I might actually want or to try to "save" me while she was temporarily living here, emphasizing the word
temporarily
.
The first couple days went by pretty well, with the two of us actually talking over dinner and re-acquainting ourselves. After a while Angela didn't seem too stuck up to be my sister, and I acknowledged her right to live her life as she reluctantly acknowledged mine.
But it wasn't long before my hormones were beating down the door of my resolve and I was needing some serious relief. But Angela didn't know the area and was hesitant to go anywhere, preferring to be a shut-in as opposed to leaving the apartment and checking out the world beyond my front door.
Just about all of the girls I dated lived with mommy and daddy and I owned a 2-seat Miata, meaning that my apartment was the only place to have some serious sex. Despite a couple attempts to get a girl to come up to my place for a nice romp on the couch my sexual desires were put on hold for me by other girls' refusals to have sex, a) on a couch, and b) with a bible-toting sister in the other room. I even offered to drop Angela off at the movies for a couple hours to get her out of the apartment, but she nixed that idea.
What could I do? It wasn't like I could just lock her out in the hallway while I banged away at some girl on my bed. I could only imagine the horror of my sister having to sleep in the wet spot or the annoyance of having to change the sheets while Angela followed up my post-sex bliss with a couple passages out of her well-worn bible.
So I opted for the next best thing; jacking off to some nice, filthy pictures on my computer.
It was about midnight and I figured that Angela was asleep, hiving turned out the bedroom light over an hour earlier. I went over to the computer, which was left on this time at my request. Unless I'm going to be gone for over a day I rarely turn it off, something Angela did the morning previous that left me tapping my foot in frustration when I had to boot it up and wait before I could get a needed address from my files, a task that would have taken only a minute at most had I even had to switch user accounts.
I logged in and started surfing my image files, sorted by the type of sex that might strike my fancy at that moment. Hmmm, which ones tonight? Big boobs? Lesbian cuties? Anal? Ah, facial cum shots...
Everybody has their particular turn-on; I just happen to like the pics of pretty faces decorated with a nice pearly load of spunk. I don't care for the poses that border on humiliation or look like the woman was forced into taking the load on their face, but the ones that, to me, look like the woman in the picture might have really enjoyed pleasing her man orally and then accepted his cum on her face as a welcome finale.
And hey, I'm a fair guy; a woman can cum on my face any time she wants to!
Truth is I've never jacked a load on a woman's face. No, the girls I do have sex with won't even suck me to climax much less let me cum on their willing faces. I have blown a load on some nice titties a time or two, though.
I was already undressed for bedtime so stood up and dropped my underwear and sat back down in the leathery chair and started a slideshow of the evening's chosen images. I leaned back and started to stroke my meat as pictures rolled across the monitor of hot-looking women sucking off big, juicy cocks and getting faces decorated with thick, white dick-cream as a reward.
