Haylee and Trevor: Bra Tease

Haylee was hovering by her dresser mirror. At 18, she presented a fairly delectable picture, if she did say so herself. Long lashes above big, blue eyes; and if her lips weren't exactly pouty, she knew how to curve them in a wicked grin that would send most boys into five-alarm crush territory. Regarding her breasts, she cocked her head to one side and concluded: not huge, but anything more than a handful is wasted, or so she'd been told. She smoothed the white blouse, currently buttoned up to her neck, down over those breasts, trying to decide whether to go with a tie or without. Distractingly, she noted that her nipples were already beginning to get hard. Whoopsie, she thought, don't get too excited--you'll give away the surprise. After all, she reflected, there was an art to the tease, and appearing too eager would spoil the fun. The look on his face, she thought as she held the tie up to her neck for the final verdict. She went with 'no tie'. Easy. She smiled.

Back in the mirror, she eyed the skirt: green and navy tartan, pleated, and just slightly shorter than regulation-length as dictated by St. Gemma's; what was it, she wondered, about these skirts that drove the boys (and the men!) so batshit crazy? She turned and looked at her profile. Maybe it was the way it draped down from her ass to leave only a modest band of naked, porcelain thigh, before the white knee-high socks took over and coyly hid the rest. Is it really that simple? she mused. Are guys actually really such big suckers for basic games of hard-to-get?

The socks then, moving down, covered her lean and shapely calves, and she paused to consider them: Coltish, she decided. Like a pony, or a fawn. And the socks sat evenly over her shins, which were surprisingly smooth for a soccer player's.

The uniform was completed by her scuffed black saddle shoes. She'd charmed her way into many "let-it-slides" but had recently received her first official warning about those scuffs. Haylee hated shining her shoes, and idly, she wondered if there might not be a way to get Trevor to do it for her. Definitely something to keep on the back burner, she thought. In the meantime, it was like making her bed or hanging up her towel after a shower--all things that, once done, would immediately start to undo themselves until they finally needed redoing. And how did a missing dab or two of polish affect her classes, anyway? Or how neatly her socks were folded, or how demurely the skirt hung from her naturally curvy ass? "Oh, kiss my ass!" she exclaimed, with a goofy grin. It had become her favourite expression of late. It had a marvellous effect on Trevor, for one thing, and seemed to bring him no end of consternation whenever she used it to end an argument.

But here and now, hovering still by the dresser mirror, she bit her lip and glared at her reflection, and thought predominantly this: There is absolutely NOTHING good about my hair today. She glanced quickly at her bedside clock and saw that time was running out. With a sigh, she grabbed a no-frills drugstore hair elastic and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. It would have to do. It was now or never. She took a breath.

Heart quickening, she swung open her door, walked down the hallway, and boldly knocked three times.

Trevor shouted from within, "Whatever it is, I'm busy."

Haylee gave a slight roll of her eyes as she twisted the knob, entered the room, and closed the door quietly behind her. "Tre-e-evor," she singsonged. "I need your help."

Trevor responded, without in any other way acknowledging her presence, "Haylee, not now. I've got a mountain of homework to get through before dinner."

Haylee smiled to herself and casually raised her hands to the top button on her blouse. "I just need you to give me your opinion on something," she said, as she slipped the fastener free and the blouse began to loosen. She eyed the posters over his desk, then continued to appraise his room like she owned it, turning in a slow, complete circle, fingers all the while unbuttoning her blouse. And oh, the posters. Girls and cars, she thought scornfully. Boys are so predictable.

Trevor had still not turned to face her, instead hunching over his textbooks with even greater aggravation. Haylee undid the fifth button and gently pulled the blouse open, exposing her lacy white bra and pert teenage breasts. "It'll only take a second... I promise." So saying, she backed up to his door and leaned her trim shoulders against it, keeping her back arched away, which caused her breasts to naturally thrust outward. She propped the sole of her right saddle shoe back against the door too; this was for show though, not support, and she did it casually--just like she'd practiced already hundreds of times. Finally, she tilted her head down toward the remaining scuffed shoe, so she could angle her face back up at him with the innocent appeal she'd studied in teen magazines--that "shy" look where the girl gazes dewy-eyed up through her long lashes. Demure, she thought to herself, and mentally checked that little box with just a bit of wicked satisfaction. She could feel the sunbeam that came in through Trevor's window landing on her body, making her bare skin glow, and at last opened her mouth to say yet again--

Trevor swiveled in his chair. "Haylee, seriously, I -" and then stopped midsentence, taking in the full vision of his kid sister leaning against his bedroom door.

Haylee suppressed a smile and innocently gazed even further up, now to the ceiling, head still angled sweetly down, lashes still partially veiling her eyes, and delicately traced her slender middle finger along one bra strap, then the upper curve of the lacy cup that followed."I was just wondering what you thought... of this."

Trevor stood and moved towards her. "Oh my god, Haylee."

Haylee said, "You like?" And then, lowering her voice to confide this important information: "Then you should know, it's bamboo knit. That means it has a smooth and flowing drape, a natural sheen, and a luxurious softness often compared to cashmere or silk--but able to withstand much greater wear and tear." She just managed not to giggle on the last three words so she could finish, "But if washed at too high a temperature, Trev, it sadly happens to shrink a little, so be careful if you're ever doing my laundry, or this bra won't cover me up prop--" The word "properly" died on her lips as she registered his sudden lean inward, and his hands rising almost compulsively. She'd been pretty sure she was hitting some buttons for him, but she'd underestimated how instantly he'd be ensnared.

Trevor halted, at the last moment aware of the little space left between them, and how warm and intimate that space was. And... fragrant? Flowers, fruit...? He couldn't help himself; he inhaled deeply. Haylee retreated the small step back that she could, saying, "Whoa! Down, boy, down!"

That, she hadn't even meant much by, but something extra when he said, "Hey, Haylee--!" made her sidetrack momentarily on instinct. Looking at him straight-on for this, she said, "Hey, what, big brother?" He didn't immediately answer, so she pressed a little: "Hey... maybe that sounds kinda tempting to you, secretly? Getting 'down boy, down'?" His ears had turned light pink in that faint blush he still had sometimes, no matter how good his poker face got. "Maybe you'd like me to really order you down, to your hands and knees, where you could dote on me from right next to the hem of my skirt? Eye-level with my thigh, as high as the skirt lets you look?" And for good measure, since her blushing brother seemed hypnotized by her left saddle shoe right now, she threw in a "Maybe I'd have to keep you down there by planting one foot on your lap, to, you know, really show I'm boss?"

She hadn't known what to hope for, but the swift shiver that coursed through his entire body gave her all she needed to know about that (for now). "I could just purr," she murmured to herself with a giddy little sigh.

Still concentrating away from her eyes, but now fixing his attention on the compellingly delicate skin just between her breasts, Trevor now asked softly, "Can I touch?"

Haylee had returned her saintly veiled gaze and beatific smile to the ceiling by now, and responded thoughtfully, "I don't know. Can you?" Then, decisively: "Tell you what. You can put your lips riiiight abooouuut here," she offered him, generously, and pointed with another slender finger, this time to that intimate, cradled area directly between her breasts. "But just there," she added, "and no getting me all sloppy, or leaving inconsiderate markings."

Trevor could only nod as he immediately dipped his head down to the center of her lacy little undergarment display. To properly encase Haylee's breasts, the bra cups had to curve outward enough that to touch his lips slowly but firmly to that enticing, floral-musk area of flesh (which he did, and with relish)--he had to allow those cups to graze his cheeks on either side. They did feel like silk or cashmere, or at least like what he'd imagine silk and cashmere to feel like, especially if he'd been imagining them while touching his hard cock some night. Right now, that cock was fully erect and straining against his pants. He let one hand fall to brush his fingers every few seconds against the pleated hem of her skirt, reminding himself not just of what explicitly lay only inches higher than that hem, but also that Haylee--his kid sister!--had earlier shown a curveball interest in forcing him to submit and kneel at her feet while she planted one conquering foot atop his lap, keeping him painfully close to that taunting, tantalizing hem. Oh god, he thought with dizzying self-awareness. Oh god, I want her so bad.

Haylee herself had now begun letting slip more and more careless signs of how much she was enjoying the physical attention. She let him languorously caress and pay lustful tribute to the fluttery, sensitive skin over her breastbone--exactly where she'd applied her strategic daubs of Burberry--lingering for a somewhat decadent length of time. When she could no longer hold still, she made a move only half planned and raised her arms. She moved them gracefully (though unknowingly) up to the standard fifth position, which (this she did know) had the incidental side effect of arching her back just slightly further, so bringing her tastefully virginal breasts ever closer to her attentive brother.

In the short pause between Trevor feverishly kissing and breathing in the aroma of that spot, and him noticing the posture change and reacting to it, Haylee felt the smooth bump against her raised wrists from the everyday, utilitarian hook on the back of Trevor's door. She reflected briefly on the first happy occasion she'd felt that particular touch. Back then, she'd been only recently tall enough for her wrists to meet it (and on tiptoe, at that). It had been, memorably, the first time Trevor had put her in handcuffs. But of course that was only a small part of what had made that occasion so unforgettable.

While Haylee was fondly remembering certain restraints, Trevor was restraining himself--choosing how and where to begin. His first instinct was to grab her breasts with both hands, roughly exploring the tender flesh and stiffening nipples concealed by the bamboo and lace. But he held off. Haylee could turn it on, but she could also turn it off just as quickly if she thought he was getting too excited. It was one of her favourite games to leave him throbbing with a case of blue balls. So instead, he slowed his breathing and started gently, by running his fingertips across her covered nipples. He was thrilled to see them stiffen eagerly from so light a touch, and through a slightly padded barrier. Just above his head, Haylee gave him a pleased smile that showed she was definitely a tad thrilled as well.

He longed to slip his fingers underneath the bra, to hold her bare breasts, but maintained enough control to resist. The texture of the bamboo was as sensually pleasurable as Haylee had predicted, and he echoed its allure with continued sensual tracings of, and across, and around her nipples--which were now clearly visible through the lingerie. But now he also interspersed them with feather-light explorations of the flesh just outside the bra: the skin near the bra straps, and down around the sides of the lacy cups, and with special care, the raised mounds of her breasts not concealed by the frustrating garment at all. The upper hemispheres of her breasts were not only bare but showily displayed for access and admiration. And arousal, always arousal, Trevor thought as he tickled those vulnerable areas with slow, light strokes. Come to think of it, the soft and supple flesh here was even more how he'd want cashmere or silk to feel--and with the liquid smoothness of her very light, excited perspiration, it even had its own natural sheen. He could hear a little hitch in Haylee's breathing, and felt her leaning close.

Haylee was in fact close enough to brush his ear with her lips, as she whispered hoarsely, "Does it feel nice?"

"Oh, Haylee," he answered, making up for his brevity with his emphasis.

Haylee took his shoulders and led him to stand straight again. Keeping his hands never far from her breasts, she pirouetted to face the door with him behind her. Her own physical state had her moving a little clumsy, but she had her ass pressed perfectly against him in no time. She began to grind, maddeningly and slowly. "I'm so glad you like my new bra, big brother."

He stopped holding back at all, and returned the grinding, pressing his rock hard cock against her tight young curves. Haylee gasped, but stayed kittenish. "Why, you must like my bra a lot! And I think I'm discovering a few other things you like, a few little... secrets, maybe?"

Trevor merely grunted the truth of it, and thrust his cock harder against her ass.

Then suddenly a call echoed from downstairs: "Haylee, Trevor! Supper's on!"

Haylee went torturously prim in a heartbeat. She moved her ass entirely out of his reach. "Oh dear," she said with a grin. Looks like it's time for us to head downstairs!" Moving him to stand aside so she could leave the room, she glanced back. "Uh - you might want to do something about that bulge in your pants," she told him decorously. Then she opened the door, rapidly buttoning her blouse.

Trevor groaned in exasperation. Once again Haylee had left him with an aching cock, absolutely starving for it. One of these days he'd get her back. He'd already started scheming. But not this time. As she took her time walking away, he threw her a plea: "Haylee, you're killing me here!"

"Trevor," came her rejoinder as she turned to him once more, "kiss my ass!"

Then she turned, flipped her skirt up to leave him with a clear afterimage of an even more intimate area that was, and would remain for now, still secured away behind luxury fabrics, and agonizingly continued down the hallway and out of reach.

(No one in the house that night, including Trevor, knew that there were words to the little aimless tune she hummed to herself until bed. But there were words, and they were: Tease and deny-y, tease and deny-y.)