Little Tish

Tags: brother sister, siblings, sibling romance, nudists, brother sister sex, her first time

Little Tish, Ch.1: Little Tish has always loved her half-brother

*****

This is a love story principally between a 19-year-old male in college and his beautiful half-sister still in high school. It will also intimately involve her equally beautiful redheaded girlfriend and others for emotional depth, diversity and some extra spice.

It will be rather lengthy and will involve some character development so please be patient. If it's a quick fix you're looking for, then this may not be your cup of tea and I won't hold it against you. But personally, I find it hard to have much concern for characters I don't know well enough to care much about.

The reluctant but almost irresistible attraction between the characters picks up gradually and is cooking along pretty well by the second and third chapters. All participating characters are 18 years of age or older.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 1 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JACK:

"My big brother is the handsomest, nicest, funniest and most wonderful boy in the world! I love him and as soon as we can, I'm gonna marry him!"

These words exploded from the sweet mouth of my beautiful, diminutive kid sister, Tish when she about 4 or 5 years old. She was skinny and small, all sticks and angles with smooth tanned skin that was baby soft and flawless. Her face was angelic—elfin and heartbreakingly cute.

Our mother, at whom this interesting "fact" was directed, chuckled not unkindly, smiled tolerantly, and ruffled Tish's long, wavy light brown hair as she prepared to disappoint her youngest child.

In an attempt to defuse an obviously amusing situation with a little humor, Mom responded, "Oh baby, you can't marry Jackie. He's your brother. Brothers and sisters can't get married because they are too closely related. If you did, your genes would get all mixed up and you would have 3-headed babies!"

Horrified, Little Tish exclaimed, "But I love him! It's not true! Is it Mommy?"

Smiling tolerantly as she was occupied fixing lunch, Mom said, "Yes it is Patti-O. I'm afraid it is."

Mom never saw the look of utter desolation on Tishie's sweet little face as she dashed from the room and went in search of her big bother.

I was outside doing some light chores when she finally found me. She ran up to me with big, wet tears rolling down her tiny tanned cheeks and threw herself in my arms sobbing her beautiful little blue eyes out.

She hugged me tightly and told me the problem. But I tried to shrug it off. I said something like, "Well everyone knows that, silly. You can't marry your own brother."

Now I don't remember the exact words I said but I clearly remember feeling startled. I hadn't really considered all that before and I remember thinking that I didn't like it all that much.

Boys generally don't seem as mature as girls and they don't often seem to think much about the future, especially when they are young. I guess I just sort of assumed that we would just go on together like we'd always had, being best friends and all.

"Ahh hush now Tishie. Don't cry little Angel Face," I consoled. "Don't worry, somehow we'll always be together. No one will ever tear us apart. I love you too much. Don't worry Little Sis. They'll never split us up; we are BFFs!" I declared firmly raising my balled fist into the air. We say "Biffs" like it's a cool little private club or something. It may have been silly but thinking of us like that—as "Biffs"—was somehow reassuring.

I've always adored my little half-sister, Tish. Well, first I loved her. Then years later I was in lust with her. And later still, I found myself head over heals

in love

with her. But I'm getting way ahead of myself. She has always been my best friend, my "BiFF," and my partner in crime.

Her real name is Patricia but most people call her Patti or Tish. My favorite pet name for her is "Tishie" and she both loves and hates it. She hates it because she thinks it sounds silly and makes her feel even smaller than she really is. She loves it because she adores me and most things I do are usually fine by her.

We have a pretty interesting family. My mother gave birth to me at the tender age of 13. But during the later stages of her pregnancy, my father's always wandering eye centered in on one of my mom's former cheerleader "friends" and soon he was out the door and out of our lives for good.

This took place shortly after finding out that mom had gotten herself in "the family way" once again, but this time the father was a long time friend and former lover; he really was her "one true love". Much to her mortification, she got pregnant again the very first time they did it; this time she was only 14.

But our mother was an amazing and very strong woman who grew up to be a wonderful, loving mother who adored her two kids. She managed to earn a college degree and take over the family business and run it successfully after my stepfather's death. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

The good news was that my sweet little half-sister, Tish made her way into the world about 6 months later and she was a true love child. She was something less than a year younger than me and I've always adored her and acted as her protector and guardian angel.

We grew up in Southern California and we've always loved it here. After Tish's father and our mother finally got together we became a warm and loving family. Thanks to my step-dad's business savvy, Tish and I grew up comfortably in a large house that was sort of out in the country.

The house has 2 stories plus a basement that serves as a family room compete with flat screen TV, couches and reclining chairs. There is also a pool table, a bathroom and refrigerator. Tishie and I spent many, many hours there happily content with each other's company. We were always each other's best friends.

The house also has a backyard swimming pool, a secluded Jacuzzi and several acres of tree covered land where she and I spent countless hours laughing, playing and teasing each other.

Now my little sis is really tiny and never grew taller than, she would say, "4' 10"- ish". She could never tip the scale much above 90 pounds but she has always been whip-smart and is far more mature than her elfin stature would suggest.

But much to her chagrin, she has always appeared very small, stick thin and very childlike. She spent most of her early life and many of her teen years embarrassingly flat chested and largely ignored by her peers. There was just not much there that was discernable beneath her shapeless clothes.

Even after we started high school she would often grouse, "Jaaackieeee, why am I so flat chested? I hate my body! I need tits! It looks like I'm, like

NINE!

And why do I have to be so damn

small?

Besides you, I can't make any friends at school because everyone thinks

I still need a highchair!"

"Ahh Tishie," I soothed, "you are the most beautiful little princess in the world. And don't forget what dad always says; 'Good things come in small packages'. Come here and give me a hug my little Tishie-girl."

Fortunately, I was much larger than my little sis and physically well set up. In my late teens, I grew to over 6' tall and, between sports and working out, I kept myself pretty lean and mean. When I got dressed, I could run a comb through my average length, thick brown hair and, though I'm no porn star, I have nothing to be ashamed of down below. I could always take secret pride in my noticeable "package" down there that several winsome young ladies would regularly assure me was "quite thick" and more than "ample." But early on I was just a kid with high intelligence, good looks and a witty sense of humor that served me well.

Our family has always been sort of "out of the ordinary" as well. Our lifestyle could be described easy going, permissive and quite open. For all intents and purposes, our whole family was a collection of practicing nudists - at least in the privacy of our own home. A couple of times we even ventured out to some "clothing optional" vacations at some private resorts.

Tishie and I really loved exploring the beaches and swimming in the ocean and in our own swimming pool. We have always been very casual about walking around the house with very little or nothing on at all and we never really gave it much thought at all, at least until I hit puberty.

The weather is usually very nice in "So Cal" and with no neighbors to speak of; we were completely comfortable in each other's company usually wearing little or nothing at all. I guess you could say we were pretty bohemian in our lifestyle.

But we were always hard workers who took great pride in our grades and accumulating knowledge. The first thing Tish and I would usually do when we got home from school was to do our homework and then swim or just mess around until dinner and bedtime.

We were always very close. As youngsters, it was not uncommon for Tish and I to spend most all of our time together. We would often watch TV until we fell asleep, sometimes even in the same bed, sleeping the night away snuggling and keeping each other warm and secure. At that early age, everything was totally innocent, sweet and fun.

Now this was never an issue for me when we were younger. I mean Tishie was always such an innocent little kid and I would never do a thing to hurt her. But as I got older, like most other healthy young men, I turned into a "walking boner". It was about that time that mom began to clamp down on our casual, carefree dress code. We hated it when she did that. Having to remain in relatively uncomfortable clothes all the time was a real drag. After that, we always longed for all the sensual freedom we had enjoyed in years gone by.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 2 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LITTLE TISH:

My best friend in the world is my half-brother, Jack. He is wonderful and we would do anything for each other. We are Biffs! (That's BFFs or "Best Friends Forever".) He's less than a year older than me but, unlike myself, he is nice and big and very good-looking. I love him to pieces!

We grew up out in the country and so we've always been very close and comfortable with each other's company. Being so immature looking, I was never able to make many friends in school so Jack has always been my best friend and protector. Another reason for my sad lack of friends, I think, is because we lived so far from town.

I was always a scrawny little kid and always looked about half my age. I didn't even start to mature physically until my last few years of high school.

One thing that helped me a little though was the fact that both my brother and I started school over a year later than our age peers. That was because our mother tried to home-school us but being so young and ill educated at the time, she probably was never much of a teacher. When she finally gave up and put us in public school, despite the fact that we were both extremely intelligent, we tested out well below grade level.

But I loved growing up where we did. Living out in the country with no neighbors to speak of, we were free to behave in ways that would be frowned upon if we had neighbors living next door. One of the things I loved the most was that our family was never overly concerned about maintaining a strict dress code.

During my early years, our whole family would spend entire days at time without much on at all in the way of hot, uncomfortable clothing. I loved the deliciously free feeling of swimming, running around and sleeping without much on at all in the way of itchy, scratchy clothes.

Whenever I can, I still tend to revert to our former manner of dressing. But as we grew older my mom began trying to end to our former carefree lifestyle. She began to require a dress code for us that was much more strict than we were used to. I never really understood that though, until later.

"What's going on with your voice Jackie?" I asked my suddenly awkward brother though fits of giggles. "You sound like you are trying to yodel!"

He was always really embarrassed when his voice began to break. I would point at him and laugh when he would slip back and forth between sounding like a little kid and barking like an adult. I know now that I was being mean. He couldn't help it. He was starting to grow up and he was leaving me behind.

What I really hated though was when my mother starting insisting that we, "put some more damn clothes on you two!"

I didn't understand why we had to stop being so free but I did begin to notice that Jackie was starting to act a little weird. Sometimes he would look embarrassed and uncomfortable as he turned his back to me. He also started spending more time alone in his room. I know now why he needed to do that but it was sort of sad. I really missed our former carefree ways. The important thing though was that I always felt comfortable being with him. We loved each other and we always will.

I'm tougher than I look but I still loved it that he was always so gentle with me. He treated me like I was this fragile little china doll. I loved him so. We would often hold hands unashamedly and everyone thought it was so cute. I loved it. But as we grew older, we avoided that sort of thing at school.

My big brother was into sports, especially football, and bodybuilding. I was too small for most sports but I was really fast and agile so I sort of drifted to tennis and gymnastics. I was pretty good at both but, being so small, it was mostly for fun—and to show off for my Jackie. Whenever we could swing it we would attend each other's events and lend our support. I think it made us both better when we knew the other one was there as moral support and verbal encouragement.

Because I was so tiny, my brother offered to show me how to strengthen myself and tone up my muscles. I may have been a rail growing up but all the effort in the gym was starting to have positive effects on my body. Gradually my legs got much stronger and better sculpted. I developed a strong and toned core and even my butt began to fill out and take on definition. It was hard work but I loved it, especially because it allowed me to spend long hours working out along side my increasingly "hot" big brother.

He must have thought I was starting to show some physical maturity as well. One day I caught my reflection in the mirror of our workout room at home and was shocked to see that I finally did, in fact, have a pretty cute and saucy little "bubble butt".

Sometimes I would catch my big brother staring at me and I would break out in a huge and happy grin at his appreciative look. His expression quickly changed to beet-red embarrassment when he realized I caught him staring.

"Check this out bro," I said with a big grin as I gave my cute little butt a playful slap. "Pretty righteous huh?" I laughed out loud as he spun away in total embarrassment and resumed changing out the weights.

'God I love him,' I remember thinking. 'He is so cute when he gets embarrassed. But hey, this time he was looking at me!' As I realized this exciting, new idea, I felt a warmth flood through my whole body that made me shiver. 'Humm, I wonder what that was all about?'

One of my favorite aspects of our participation in sports was when we would help each other soothe away our aches and pains after practice or games. We both got really good at massaging each other's arms, shoulders, necks, legs and feet. I loved being able to stroke and soothe the aching muscles in his body and legs, even though I wasn't really strong enough to dig in deep into his muscles where he needed it.

"Oh Jackie, I just love hearing your happy groans when I'm rubbing out your muscles. Do you have any idea how good you look without a shirt? It's no wonder you can't keep all the girls away."

I never let him see my pained expressions when he agreed. I don't know why but I just hated the thought of him being with any other girl but me. Much to my surprise, I realized that I was jealous and that made no sense to me at all.

'He's my brother for crying out loud,' I groused at myself. But whenever I saw him flirting with another girl, or later when he started dating them, it was all I could do to keep the tears out of my eyes.

But I really loved it whenever he gave me a post workout rubdown. I have always had an extremely sensitive body. I'm pretty tough when it comes to pain but my tiny body gloried in my brother's soothing rubdowns, after sports massages and foot rubs. When I was lying on the massage table on my stomach and Jackie was giving me a rubdown, I was in heaven!

My tiny feet have always been especially sensitive. The bad news: I'm extremely ticklish there. The good news: I am in nirvana when my Jackie is massaging my sore, tired feet and my tiny, delicate toes, or when he is warming them in his strong hands on cold nights when we are watching TV.

I think he liked my foot rubs almost as much as I did. Sometimes when warming my cold feet in his loving, warm hands, he would sort of zone out and become mesmerized by the movie we were kind of half watching. That happened often and when it did, my special treatment just went on and on, seemingly for hours. I could close my eyes and get lost in the wonderful sensations. And often, I found myself feeling sort of tingly inside as I luxuriated in his loving attention to my tender little feet.

My other interests were in photography, art and computers. I loved anything with colors and shapes. I loved to paint and was a whiz with my digital cameras and the graphic design stuff on my computer.

But my Jackie was my rock and my guardian angel. One day at school, some big kids were picking on me, I guess just because I was so little and so different. I was surrounded and backed into a corner by this really big kid who just kept pushing me and threatening to hit me. All of a sudden, he was lifted off ground by the collar of his shirt and flung to the ground. When he finally looked up, towering above him was my Jackie and I've never seen him so furious.

He pulled that kid's face up next to his and bellowed, "If I ever see you, or any of you trying to push my sister around again, you will find yourself in the hospital!" and then with fire in his eyes, he added, "or in the morgue!" With that, the kid was flung to the ground and I was swept to safety. Did I mention that my Jackie is really big and strong and that he plays football? Did I mention that I really love my big brother?

Unfortunately, I retained my infantile appearance until fairly late into high school. That was probably the reason Jackie began encouraging me to start working out with him. I was well into high school by then and, thankfully, about that time I FINALLY started having my periods and began filling out my blouses and taking on a much more feminine shape.

That was also the year that I started thinking something was really wrong with me. I started to think about boys in general and about my big brother in particular in new and upsetting ways. I knew there was something wrong with me because I had a vague idea about what was happening to my body and I knew I shouldn't be having those feelings about my own brother. But I just couldn't help myself.

For some time, my Jackie had been acting strangely toward me; we didn't seem to be as close as we had always been. I missed our special closeness so much and I just hated myself for feeling so resentful when he went out on dates, especially when I thought he was having sex. I really hated that!

I turned 18 towards in the middle of my junior year and then things started to get very interesting indeed.