My name is Scotty Conner. I am 6'4" and weigh around 235. I possess a black belt in karate and a bachelor's degree in computer science from Cal Poly. At 25 years of age, I am living the American dream, except for the fact that I am hopelessly in love with a girl who is impossible to reach.
This girl is 20 years old, 5'1" and weighs in at 103 lbs. She has dark hazel eyes, a pert little upturned nose, beautiful lips and size 34 C breasts. Her hair is dark auburn and is shoulder length. She is a gymnast studying Oriental Languages at UCLA. Her name is Rebecca Conner. She is my sister.
I have loved her forever, but I have been in love with her for the past 5 years. This situation is extremely frustrating for me, as it keeps me from dating or even having any female friends.
She lives with our parents in a small house in Westwood. I have bought a house close to where I work in Santa Monica. It is a small 2 bedroom place close to the beach.
My story starts one Thursday afternoon. I had just gotten home from work when the telephone rang.
"Hello", I said as I punched the 'on' button.
"Hi Scotty, it's Becky."
"Oh, hi sweetie, what can I do for you?", I queried.
"I need to ask a huge favor of you.", she replied.
"Shoot, honey, I'm all ears."
"Scotty, can I move in with you for a while? Mom and Dad are going to tour the Caribbean, and I don't want to stay in this house all by myself."
Suddenly, I broke into a slight sweat. My tongue went dry. I could hardly croak into the phone, "Sure Becky, c'mon over. When will you be here?"
I knew I should have said no. I knew that living in the same house with her for 6 weeks was going to destroy what little morals I still possessed. However, as is always the case with men, my #2 head took control and before I could put the brakes on my mouth, the fatal words were zipping down the phone lines. I was screwed and I knew it.
"Thank God," Becky giggled into the phone. "I've got a lot to discuss with you and besides, we need some time together. I hardly ever see you and I want a chance to get to know how you're doing."
Yup, that was it. I was doomed. My fate sealed by 103 pounds of dynamite.
Two days later Becky appeared at my door with a host of baggage and packages. As is usual for a woman, she had enough gear with her for a 2 year safari. I helped her bring her things into the house. She started arranging them in my spare bedroom.
Finally, we had her stuff moved in. She collapsed into the sofa in the living room with a sigh of relief. I brought sodas for her and me from the refrigerator and she accepted hers gratefully. We ordered a pizza and turned on the big screen TV. The pizza arrived in about 30 minutes and we both munched it up.
It was Sunday evening and both of us had to be up early the next morning so Becky retired to her room and me to mine. All night evil little thoughts trickled through my brain. I composed all sorts of scenarios in which I would somehow take possession of her, but wound up running off a batch by hand. I fell into a fitful sleep which did nothing to rest me.
In the morning I was off and running. So was Becky. She was close to graduation and wanted to maintain her 3.9 GPA. I was close to getting a promotion and didn't want anything to interfere with it. The next week was pretty much a replay of the first day with both of us zooming around and doing our respective duties. Yes, I jacked off every night to thoughts of the sweet little package ensconced under my roof, but didn't make a move on her. Points for me, I guess.
Friday afternoon, our lives ground to a snail's pace. The pressure was off and at last we would have a chance to chat and really become acquainted. I got home first, got a quick shower, put on my sleepwear and started dinner.
Did I mention I'm a pretty good cook? We were going to have chicken Kiev with roasted veggies and a mild white wine. Chocolate mousse would provide the finishing touches.
Becky got home about an hour after I did. She immediately jumped in the shower and 30 minutes or so later, made her appearance in the kitchen in her pajamas. As soon as she strolled into the kitchen, I got a good shot of the female aroma that surrounded her. My cock twitched. I knew I was in deep trouble.
"Wow, bro, that chicken looks great!" she exclaimed.
"Well, it only costs a little more to go first class." I replied.
I served the chicken in the small dining room. We consumed it with the gusto of a couple of hound dogs. We also consumed almost the whole bottle of wine. In keeping with the old adage, never travel without a spare, I broke open another bottle and we retired to the living room. I put a Trish Trang disk into the player and turned it down fairly low.
"So, Scotty, what have you been doing with yourself? Are all the Santa Monica chicks ravaging your body on a regular basis?" she inquired.
"Actually, I have not been ravaged even once." I stated.
"Why not? You're a good looking guy."
