SUMMARY: This story is about an older brother and his younger sister having sex days before he is supposed to get married. He thinks it will be ok as long as they don't get intimate with each other and it's just sex, but he's wrong.
All characters in this story are 18 or older.
AUTHOR NOTE: I decided to write this story from the male point of view. Please excuse any inaccurate descriptions! Also, as usual, I edited this story myself, so there may be some typos, grammatical mistakes, etc. that I missed. I'm doing this for fun, so please judge it with that in mind!
DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction. Any character resemblances to real life personae are strictly coincidental. Copying, re-posting, storing (whether digitally or in print form) or redistribution of this material is prohibited.
STORY:
PART I.
I was getting married in two days. It still seemed strange to me. I couldn't believe I was getting married! I was twenty-eight and had been dating my fiancé, Wendy, since we were both seventeen. She was beautiful and smart and funny and... perfect. She had long, blonde hair, wavy and silky. She was about four inches shorter than me at 5'6". I knew she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
Or so I thought.
Something was about to happen that would put a spin on my entire life. You see, two days before my wedding, I had sex with my little sister. Yeah. That happened. But let me explain, starting with a little back story. First of all, my sister is nineteen. Nine years younger than me. And I had known that she had a crush on me for as long as I could remember. Of course, I never thought much of it. I just thought it was a thing little girls did. Develop crushes on immediate family members. If it hadn't been me, I'm sure it would have been my dad. Either way, I just thought it was a normal part of maturity and puberty.
Her name is Shelly. She's a beautiful young girl. Her hair is brown and she keeps it long enough that it hangs past her shoulder blades. She has a beautiful smile with perfect teeth and twinkling brown eyes. I remember seeing her body start to change when she was twelve. Since then, she had really grown into it. She had perfect breasts. They weren't too big, but they were plenty big enough on her short body to give her an ample amount of cleavage when she wore the right shirts. All in all, she was extremely good looking.
She used to flirt with me. Like, all the time. It was all harmless at first, but over the years, as her education increased, her flirting got a little more intense. Again, I laughed it off most of the time. She was a kid to me, and it was what kids did. Except a couple times after she turned eighteen, I would wake up with her in bed with me, rubbing me. One time she actually had her hand inside my pants, stroking my penis. I chased her out when that happened. That was almost a year ago. Of course, once she was gone from my room, I masturbated like mad. Just because it was my little sister didn't make me immune to stimulation like that. I was horny!
Nothing too extreme had happened since that night. She still flirted, and occasionally petted me, or rubbed my butt or my chest, but that was about it. When I told her I was engaged, I'll never forget her reaction. She pouted. As in, little-girl-not-getting-her-way pouting. I messed with her hair to try to lighten the mood, and then shrugged it off.
That was three months ago. Now, it was two days before the big day.
Lying in bed, I was having a hard time falling asleep. My mind was all over the place, thinking about all of my new responsibilities once I got married. We were going to live with my parents for a few months, after the wedding. That helped a little. Plus we both already had decent paying jobs. But there were so many things I didn't know, like how to do taxes once you're married. Things like that. In any case, my head was filled with enough things to worry about that I struggled to find sleep.
Somewhere around two in the morning, I heard footsteps in the hallway. I didn't think much of it at first, until I realized they were coming closer to my room. When the door started creeping open, I lifted my head to see who it was. I figured it was my fiancé. She slept in the guest room next to my parents' room. That was the agreement I had in exchange for letting us live there. We had to wait until after we were married to sleep in the same bed. But that didn't stop her from sneaking in to make love to me every now and then.
Silently, a figure made its way into my room, closing the door on the way. Frowning, I tried to see better, but it was too dark. All I could see was a faint silhouette, framed by shadows. When the figure reached my bed, I heard a clunk and then a curse. That's when I knew who it was.
"Shelly?" I whispered.
My sister climbed into my bed without a word. I heard her lift the covers and shimmy underneath. Once she was lying next to me, she settled her head down on my other pillow. The one that my fiancé usually used. Sighing, I asked my sister gently, "What's wrong?"
Shelly didn't answer right away, but I could tell she was working out something to say, so I kept silent. After a long hesitation, she whispered, "You're really getting married."
"Yeah," I said, shifting a little.
Another long silence stretched between us. I could hear her breathing. The bed creaked as she moved and I heard the covers rustle. Then I felt her pushing up next to me, lying sideways. She draped a hand across my chest and rested her cheek against my arm. She felt warm. And cozy. I didn't move a muscle.
For several minutes neither of us moved, nor spoke. Her hand started moving absently on my chest, like something a child might do while cuddling up with a blanket. I didn't bother stopping her. Finally, she spoke, her voice a soft whisper in my ear, "I always thought you would be with me forever."
My heart melted at her words. She was my little sister. My princess sister. With the age difference, we had been close in a different way than if we had been little together. I was her big brother, but also her protector. Her confidant. Her best friend as she grew up. And, as I mentioned earlier, her childhood crush. Reaching over, I tried to find her shoulder, but my hand landed on her side instead. The second I touched her, her body tensed. I felt her hand on my chest stop moving and she inhaled a short breath, then held it.
Instead of moving my hand up to pat her shoulder, I kept it there on her side. She felt soft. Slowly, I started rubbing my thumb against her, trying to be comforting. Her body loosened and she squirmed beside me, and a few seconds later, she resumed her absent caressing of my chest. I felt her hand slide just a little and suddenly her fingertips were gliding back and forth across my nipple through my shirt. I didn't want to embarrass her, so I didn't say anything.
My sister and I lay in silence for the next ten minutes. But our hands continued to move, barely caressing each other. She went from rubbing to raking her nails gently across my chest, then back to rubbing. All the while, she kept going back to my nipple. At the same time, I found myself starting to slide my hand up and down her side, massaging her as I went. After several minutes, it dawned on me quite suddenly that what she was doing to me was starting to make my body tingle. It was turning me on a little.
I had to figure out a way to stop without embarrassing her. So I gently pulled away and made it as if I was stretching. I threw in a yawn for good measure and when I settled back down, her hand was on my stomach instead of my chest and I was no longer holding onto her. That worked for about one minute, and then my little sister started rubbing my stomach. It wasn't nearly as arousing as her rubbing my nipple, but in some ways, it was almost more erotic. My mind started tossing images my way of just how close her hand was to my cock. And once I started down that path, I started thinking about my sister giving me a hand job.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Shelly asked suddenly.
Shrugging uncomfortably, I nodded into the dark room and then whispered, "Sure."
I couldn't see her smile, but I felt it. She was beaming. Her hand on my stomach opened wide and then squeezed my skin. In the process, she pulled herself closer to me and before I could reposition myself, I felt her slide one leg on top of mine, resting it on my thigh. God she was warm. Just then, I realized that I could smell a faint whiff of her perfume. It smelled like candy.
The next little while, I lay completely still while my sister resumed her slow caressing with her hand. She kept it on my stomach, but I don't think that did much to assuage my growing arousal. I tried my best to hide that fact from her, straining to control my breathing. It was difficult. After several minutes, she nestled herself even closer, snugging her other leg against the side of mine. I realized in that moment that I could feel a heat radiating from between her legs. Inhaling sharply, I tried to think about something else. Anything else.
My sister's hand was moving down suddenly and I froze. In that moment, I asked myself what I would do if she tried to put her hand down my pants again. When it had happened a year ago, it was easy to make her stop. She caught me off guard, and fast asleep. When I woke, I was so surprised and shocked by what was happening, it was easy to snap at her.
Not so this time. The way she had been caressing my body, slowly fueling my desire for half an hour, I knew there was no way she could surprise me. And without the element of surprise, I didn't know if I could muster the will to actually make her stop. But I didn't have to worry about it yet. She didn't move down like I suspected she might. Instead, when she reached the hem of my shirt, I felt her lift it up and place her hand underneath, against the bare skin of my stomach.
