For those who know me, here is something a little different.
Know me, you ask? Well at least in the sense that you may have become familiar with my desires and fantasies. Those who haven't read my stories before, know this, I write a lot of stories about being sexually intimate with my sister and/or Mother. My Sister was the one who started my own kink or fetish if you prefer. But just because I want to throw my sister down and eat her pussy doesn't mean I dislike guys. For the most part I try not to label myself, but even though I prefer women, I have often been sexually attracted to men. I can certainly look at a guy and feel a significant level of attraction based on his looks, body or personality. That coupled with my own personal kink has led me to include my brother into some of my stories. And even though my sister knows about my fantasies (and my published stories) my brother doesn't!
This is a little fantasy of mine involving my younger brother John. I believe there might be a few pieces in here that are true (not as much as what transpired between my sister and I) but I will leave it to you to decide how much. As always, I love hearing from you, so feedback is appreciated or even your own experiences if you wish to tell. I promise I can keep a secret!
XOXO Tiff
Ah, where to begin? Beginnings for me are always difficult. Probably because no matter where you begin, something has always preceded it. Hints or gestures, maybe a lingering look or a subtle glance. The slight pressure of a hand or the touch on a thigh. Individually they stand alone, insignificant by themselves, without meaning or motive. Together however? Together they comprise a hunch. That slowly forms into an idea. That ultimately emerges from the murky depths of your subconscious as a certainty. That final piece of the puzzle, that once inserted, reveals the entirety of the picture.
The first piece? My room. It started with that feeling of a presence. Was it just me? Or had someone been in there? Someone had, I was sure of it. Someone at some time had invaded my private space. That in itself wasn't suspicious. It could have been my mother doing ordinary Mom things. My Sister looking for clothes that I have been known to borrow. My Brother looking for...something? The dog just making sure a burglar wasn't hiding under my bed ready to kill me once everyone in the house went to sleep. Little green men? You get the point! But outside of that alien awareness that somebody had been in my room (somebody has been sleeping in my bed!) the school clothes that I had worn earlier that day were kind of strewn about.
My clothes were the second piece. The St. Thomas emblem on the front of my sweater had been visible when I left. I remember looking down at it when I walked out. Now it was hidden, lying face down. My blue plaid skirt was under my white shirt, and the lacey white panties that I had been wearing and had changed out of because they were so wet, were now crumpled in a way that never would have happened had they just lain there after I had removed them. I mean, if my mother had been in there, she would have just picked my school clothes up and put them in the laundry. My Brother and I both go to St. Thomas's Catholic School. Good old St. Thomas has molded and warped three generations of my family. From dear old Granny Anne, to both of my parents, as well as my older sister and of course my younger brother and yours truly. Mom must have been pretty horny after she had me, because John was born 11 months after I was, but there was nearly 3 years between Becca and I. Good old St. Thomas home of the Holy Cavaliers.
"Go St. Thomas! Run down the field!"
"We shall never waiver or yield!"
GO CAVS! YEAH!
It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Nor even the second. Hell, for all I know it could have happened dozens of times and never once registered anywhere but on a subconscious level, if at all. I wasn't upset. Nor did I feel violated in any way. I guess I felt a little like Sherlock Holmes!
"Ah-ha! Something is amiss, dear Watson. This has happened too many times to be mere coincidence!"
"What's that Holmes?"
"My panties! It seems that somebody has taken an inordinate amount of interest in my panties."
"I say old boy. Who would do such a thing?"
"The answer is elementary my dear Watson. The real question is why? Once we know that, then we will know who! Come the game is afoot!"
Turning them over in my hand I realized that the thin piece of material that had nestled against my pussy was still pretty damp. I brought the gusset up to my face and inhaled. Yep, that had been one wet pussy, Watson. I laughed silently to myself. Damn I smelled really good. I looked around my room, searching for anything else out of place, the little garment that had soaked up so much of my wetness clenched in my hand. Nothing else jumped out a me. Perhaps I was imagining things?
Now, I'm highly sexual. I sometimes think I may be a borderline nymphomaniac. I love being naughty or sexy, seen as desirable. What can I say? I love orgasms. Once I discovered masturbation, that was it, I was hooked. And the day I discovered I loved it up the butt? Well let's just say I was so astounded, so utterly captivated by the feeling, you would have thought that I had invented anal penetration just for myself. Usually when I masturbated, I would end up with something up my ass. Finger, hair brush, a fat marker I keep, for the sole purpose of putting it up my butt, you get the idea. You know what they say about us Catholic Schoolgirls, right? So how often do I masturbate? Well, it differs but usually 10-12 times a week. I was in-between boyfriends at the time, so I was playing with myself quite a bit more than normal. It seemed like every free moment I had I was getting myself off. And when I wasn't? I was thinking about it! My little pussy was soaked all the time.
I remembered that earlier in the day, I was in Sister Mary Theresa's class listening, to her explanation on applied Theology. When I realized how horny I was. In response to my penchant for getting myself off, most of my seats were in the back corners of my classes. So, I did what I had done many times before. Reaching into my bag I pulled out a large eraser. The eraser had never been used for its intended purpose and was pink and oddly shaped, but perfect for what I needed it for. I placed it on the chair between my legs so it was right up against my pussy. By rocking my hips up and down I could brush my clit up against it, every once in a while, squeezing my thighs together. Sitting there in class I would look around at my class mates the whole time getting myself off. The whole thing is always a huge turn on for me and I usually cum within a few minutes. However, this time was a little different. So, there I am rocking my clit against my eraser, when I look over and see Christina Kennedy staring at me with a big old shit eating grin on her face. Her right hand was rubbing her left breast. Maybe it was my imagination but it looked like she was rubbing her thighs together as well. I didn't get a great view because as soon as I saw her looking at me, I started cumming. It was so powerful that I couldn't prevent the "Oh God!" That escaped from my lips. Everyone in the classroom turned to look at me. Sister Mary Theresa stared at me and said. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Tiffany! But please, if you are going to pray in class, refrain from doing so out loud!"
Right now, the thought that someone had been in my room and had...what? I don't know. I really didn't formalize an opinion, but deep down I'm certain I knew. What were they doing with my panties? Did they see how wet they were? Were they thinking of me? Regardless of the answers, I felt that familiar need. It was almost like someone had caught me being naughty. Like they were watching me! Just like... like Christina Kennedy!
Hmmm...was she excited by watching me? My hand traveled down my left breast. Christina Kennedy...nineteen, blonde hair, blue eyes. Christina who was always getting into trouble for dress code violations. Just a few weeks ago, she had gotten into trouble for her skirt. The damn thing had been so short that you could see her panties every time she moved. Somehow, she had made it to 3rd period before being pulled out of class and sent home. I remembered seeing those pristine, little white panties up her skirt. Christina had looked at me, saw me staring and smiled. I didn't think anything of it at the time because hell, everyone had been staring. But now that I think about it, I did get myself off in class later that day. Hmmmm, I had never been with another girl before. The idea was exciting. Christina was certainly pretty. Kind of a loner. She always had a mischievous look on her face, like she knew some joke the rest of us didn't get. High firm breasts, long legs and tight little body. My nipples were so hard it was almost painful, pinching one, sent bolts of electricity shooting right down between my legs. I gasped at the feeling. I imagined Christina watching me get off. Her hands travelling up her legs. Slipping up under her skirt. My own hands pulled and pushed my leggings down to my knees.
My damp panties from earlier were still in my hand and the wetness of my current ones had me wondering if I should just stop wearing panties all together. My hand slipped under my waistband, my fingers heading lower and then, naughty little digit that it was, my pointer finger was inside of me. Was Christina this wet? Hell did other girls ever get this wet? I was dripping. What did her pussy look like? What did it smell like? How did it taste? I brought my used panties from earlier up to my face and inhaled. I imagined it was Christina's pussy that I could smell...I could feel my approaching orgasm as I imagined kneeling down between her thighs. We would slowly kiss, our tongues dancing together as she held the back of my head. My fingers were rubbing circles on my clit, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. She would become insistent and would push my head down until my face was between her legs. Then she would lift up her skirt revealing the fact that she wasn't wearing panties. With a moan she would shove my face into her pussy. Oh god I was going to cum. My fingers moved faster. I imagined eating Christina's pussy until she came all over my face. "I'm gonna cum Tiffany. I'm gonna cum all over your pretty face!" At the same time that my fantasy Christina came...I did. My juices soaking through my panties...running down my legs. My eyes closed and my breathing was shallow and quick. I was lightheaded. Damn I needed that. My eyes slowly regained focus.
Standing in the middle of my room, a pair of wet panties in one hand and my other hand inside of a pair of wet panties, I had an idea. The final piece of the puzzle you could say. There were presently only 2 people in the house. My Mother and my brother. If it wasn't just my imagination, it had to have been one of them. Mom was in her office working and John was in his room. I had a brief vision of Mom gathering my clothes up to take them to the laundry. Then seeing my panties and noticing how wet they were, she brings them to her face and sniffs them just like I did. I shook my head nope; more likely she got a phone call and dropped the clothes right where they were in order to take it. Hmmm possible, I guess. Didn't seem to fit though. John? My brother was slightly shy. A tad bit nerdy. Kind of quiet and self-effacing. Innocent. I couldn't see him doing it either. John had just turned 18, had gotten some new video games for his birthday and had been spending a lot of time thieving autos or killing zombies or zombies thieving autos. Something like that. I quickly changed clothes again. Grabbing up all of my clothes except for my panties, I threw them in the laundry. The panties I had been wearing while masturbating to thoughts of my blonde classmate, were so wet and smelled so strongly of my pussy I figured they would be perfect for my purposes. I left them right in the middle of my floor. The other pair I laid on top of my clothes in the laundry room.
In my bedside table junk drawer was an old video camera. Years ago, I had asked to be given the old camcorder, that had pretty much been made obsolete by cell phone technology. For weeks I had made a pest of myself recording everybody and everything, every little aspect of our lives recorded and observed. However, the adolescent dreams of becoming a famous movie director only lasted a couple of weeks. The camcorder made its way to the closet, only coming out on holiday's, birthdays or sleepovers. Then once I got my own cell phone, was relegated to exile in the junk drawer.
Pulling it out, I turned it on. Or at least tried to, it was dead. I looked at it for a moment, at a loss for how to do what I wanted without it dying on me. It stared back at me in silent reproach, as if to say this is all your fault. I spent years in obscurity. Unused. Unwanted. Now I get my revenge! Ha ha ha! I pulled the charger out of the drawer. Shit!
