Secrets of Summer: My Sister's Feet

How it Began

I woke up with the sense that something had changed in the night. Like a seed that had been planted and was now in motion. The thoughts I fell asleep to had stayed with me, appearing in fragmented dreams, and when I woke, those vivid emotions still seemed real, as if I was half dreaming. I turned my head on my pillow and noticed that my door was wide open, which was strange. Then I saw her stride past my door. She had a youthfulness that was so vibrant. At 18, she had blossomed into the perfect image of beauty.

Her chestnut brown hair, highlighted and curled, bounced around her shoulders when she walked. Her eyes were hazel eyes sparkled and were even more radiant when touched by the light. Her skin was a perfect tan, smooth, soft, and new, like a doll just brought to life. At 5'4", she had a feminine smallness but was athletic, toned, and soft at the same time. She had a little button nose and a sharp jawline that accented her adorable heart-shaped face. Today, she wore her little white jean shorts that contrasted so well with the light pink color of her toes, and her loose-fitting top swayed to reveal glimpses of her chest, full and soft.

I thought about how wrong it was for me to have these thoughts about my little sister. I tried to put the idea out of my mind several times, but then I would see her walking around the house barefoot in a summer skirt or leaving for cheerleading on Sundays in her cute little outfit, snow-white sneakers, and hair done up with a bow, and I would feel helpless again. Gradually, I started to give in, to indulge more in these fantasies of her. I couldn't help it, it was so overpowering, so I started to let go. I embraced the idea that my little sister was the sexiest girl I had ever seen and that the blood we shared between us only made it better, deeper, more intimate. I remembered the first time I touched myself and came to the thought of her. And how deeply the warmth penetrated me when I did. It was the best feeling I ever had, and I knew it was because of her. It just made me want her more.

I thought this must be a sort of chemical misfire that couldn't possibly be something she also felt. That it must be too rare, and if it occurred at all, the chances of two siblings feeling the same way had to be something only written about in obscure fiction. I wasn't much older, only by two years, in college and living at home. I was confident in my sexual presence. I still played sports in college and took an interest in my body, lifting weights and running. The attention I got from girls was flattering, and sometimes, I thought her friends had a crush on me, but to imagine that she would ever be attracted to me felt too unreal. Although deep down, I was wishful. The kind of carnal desire felt strange against the kind, brotherly love I had for her. I wasn't sure if these feelings belonged together. I still wanted to be kind, supportive, and helpful. I didn't want my desire for her to ruin our bond.

These thoughts ran through my mind when I was awake in my bed at night, looking at the soft yellow light coming from under her door; the dream just behind it was so close and so far. I imagined what she might be doing: undressing, reading in bed, dreaming about boys, touching herself. Surely she must have; surely she was fully sexual by now, curious, excited by masculinity, aware of herself as a beautiful young woman and how boys (and men) would look at her. I wondered how sexual she was and how experienced she may have been. I met her two past boyfriends and was pretty sure she had had sex before. She seemed more and more aware of herself in this way as the years came on, and I thought to myself if it was just me that felt this intense sexual energy that seemed to gravitate around her. I wanted to be kind, but I also wanted to take a chance to make her aware of my own sexual presence. So I would drop the smallest hints, maybe just thoughts I would have while next to her, hoping that I could ignite the spark in her too, like little whispers between siblings, secret messages only we could decode, and that eventually she would know, and by some miracle feel the same unstoppable desire for her me.

The hints I dropped were subtle sometimes, and other times, not so much. I would occasionally stay to watch TV with her when she was in her shorts or barefoot in her pajamas, even when she had her shows on, which she knew I didn't like. I commented once after she came home with freshly painted white toes and said I thought they looked pretty. She responded with a genuine "thank you!" but cut herself off after she was going to follow it up. Maybe she was starting to wonder why her older brother was noticing how pretty she looked, how pretty his little sister's toes were. Sharing a car between us, we would sometimes have to rely on each other for rides on errands and to meet friends.

Once, I picked her up from the mall and noticed she had gotten her hair done and that she was wearing new shoes, little snow-white sneakers that matched perfectly with her tan skin, revealed the pretty curves of her ankles, and kept hidden what was so precious underneath. On the ride home, I told her she looked really pretty, and I thought her new sneakers looked cute. She said thanks and, with her legs crossed next to me in the passenger's seat, lifted up one foot to show them off and then went on about the details of her afternoon. Soon, I was spending more time with her watching TV in the living room, especially if we were alone or our parents were upstairs for the night. She didn't comment on my staying to watch these shows I was never interested in before.

The living room had a large sectional sofa at a right angle and a large chair with an ottoman in front of it to the right. She would usually sit in the chair and put her feet up on the ottoman, and I sat behind her in the middle of the sofa, far enough behind that she couldn't see me but close enough so I had a breathtaking, intimate view of her body. She would change positions, sometimes extending her tanned, shining legs out and showing off her pink little toes, high arches, and the curves of her soles. Sometimes, she would come home after cheer practice, still in her little white cotton no-show socks, and put her feet up in her usual spot. How her toes showed through as the cotton clung around her feet mesmerized me. It seemed her little socks kept her beautiful feet secret underneath but revealed the delicate outline of the shape.

When she played with them in front of him, eventually slowly stripping them off with her foot, one at a time, and letting them fall to the floor, I felt the hot pulse of life flow through my stomach. To say I was hard was an understatement. I was throbbing, my cock pressed tightly against my sweatpants as if begging to come out, and my precum started to drip from the tip, making a small stain visible through my gray sweatpants. I knew I had to touch myself. Was she teasing me? I put warm saliva in my hand and reached down under my pants to touch my throbbing cock. I tried to keep the sounds quiet, the wet sounds it made when I played with it, but sometimes it would make a little noise, just audible to her, I thought.

The warmth that rose in me was incredible. My senses were on fire. I couldn't stop staring at how pretty she looked, the shapes her body made, her pretty legs and feet out in front of her, kicking one foot or moving it up and down her smooth legs. A part of me wanted her to hear and wanted her to look. I had my cock out now, and if she looked a little to her left, she would see it, upright, throbbing, and wet, wanting to burst. Sometimes, when the sounds were louder, she would shift in her chair or start kicking her foot faster. I wanted her to know. I wanted her to know just what she did to her big brother.

I got bolder and made a few wet stroking sounds together and saw her head start to turn and then turn back to the TV. Then she turned her body to the side, facing away from me, and showed her bare soles and the bottom of her ass coming out of her shorts, looking at the screen with the profile of her face towards me. She was gorgeous, I thought. She then got up quickly, and I put my cock away just in time before she could see it. She said she was getting a drink and asked if I wanted one, to which I, red in the face and hiding my deep breaths, replied, "Sure, thanks," as casually as I could. I noticed when she walked by me, she quickly glanced down to my lap. She must have seen the outline of my cock pressed against my leg and the little wet stain at the head. She didn't change her expression, just slowly walked out and into the kitchen.

My heart was racing. I saw her little cheer socks right there next to the chair, and I quickly got up and snatched them. They felt slightly wet in my hands. I liked the idea of having her sweat on me, her fluids, the ones so intimate to her, on my skin. I held them to my face and smelled them lightly. The scent was intoxicating. It seemed to transport me instantly somewhere else and made precum spit out of my now fully throbbing cock. I smelled again and let myself live in this world for a second more, her secret world. It was as if she kept these smells locked away, the smells of her pretty body and her pretty feet made just for those lucky enough to be near her. It was as if her pheromones created this just for me and was the condensation of her body in motion, working hard—her energy and strength. Like the pure intensity of being alive. The smells I gathered only increased my already full sensational capacity. My cup was overflowing. Immersed in this moment, I heard her footsteps getting closer.

I hid her socks behind me and assumed a casual position, looking at the TV screen. She seemed different when she came back, maybe a little red in the face, and maybe her body language had shifted. She seemed more timid, unlike her usual bubbly self. She handed me a cold glass and smiled a sort of forced smile as I saw her again looking down at my crotch before she turned and walked slowly back to her chair. Her movements seemed unsure as she sat down. Back in the chair, she was restless. Lifting her legs up to put her feet on the ottoman and then shifted to move her legs to her side, showing her soles, and then again, she turned back and crossed her legs with one foot resting on the ottoman and kicking her other foot of the crossed leg so I could admire the delicate motion of her movements. The overpowering presence of her legs crossed at her thighs, the strong way they held together, and the beautiful lines they created they made as they connected. How strong and soft her legs and feet were, how she was.

What happened next seemed beyond my control. I looked down and saw that the stain my precum had made was an obvious large blot at the head of my cock through my sweatpants. My cock was not only outlined to the side against my pants, almost to the point that the thick veins running down my shaft were showing, but it was also pushing upwards, wanting to burst through and reveal itself. This must have been the view she saw when she looked down. It must have been so obvious. Had she put it together? Did she know it was her? Her legs and feet? Maybe it was obvious. I doubted myself until she started playing with her feet. Touching them sensually with her hands in front of me, moving her hands slowly down her legs, bending her head to the side to admire how nice they were, and even making little whimpering moans of pleasure as she touched and massaged them. With my cock in my hand, wet with my precum and saliva, her motions, her sexual behavior, and her physical beauty were almost unreal. I pulled out her socks again from behind me and made some wet sounds with my hand stroking my cock so she could hear.

The sensations were too much. I smelled her scent in her little damp socks just after cheer, and inhaled the vision of her pretty worked-out legs and feet in front of me as she teased me with her movements. I felt it come on like how a tsunami builds deep in the middle of the ocean after the plates of the earth shift. It built slowly and then quickly as if the warm rush shot through me with a flash of light. I tried to keep quiet. I moaned only a little suppressed moan, followed by a small gasp, and thrust my pelvis forward, letting my juice run out of me. The wave washed over my body, through my organs, into my bones. I jerked and shifted as the juice kept coming out. I didn't care now if she was looking, but I wanted her to wait, not see me like this yet. But she must have heard.

I used her little socks to soak up some of my cum off my cock, squeezing them around it, and let the aftershocks run their course, sitting in a warm soft glow. She seemed to be kicking her foot even faster. From my view of her profile, I could see her looking at the TV but clearly distracted, somewhere else in her mind. I knew our parents would be home soon, and it was foolish to be this risky in the living room, where if someone walked up to the front door, they could see what was going on inside. So I got up quickly and left as she stayed stuck in that position. I went upstairs to my room and looked down at the mess I had made on myself and on my little sister's socks. I could see the shiny streaks of wetness on them. Her little cute wet cheer socks soaking up my cum. My scent now together with hers.

It made me think of her again so soon, right after I came. I then had the idea of making it plain. I knew she knew. She had to. And she stayed. She had teased me even, provoking my desires. Maybe there was some truth to the presence of magic in real life. Maybe I was just that lucky. I thought she would be coming up to her room soon before our parents came home. I decided to leave her socks, now covered in my cum, on her floor, so she could see them when she walked in. I opened her door that was just across the hall.

Her room was still very girly, with her lavender walls, her posters of pop stars, and her stuffed animals arranged on the bed. Her vanity, with her perfumes and framed family pictures, next to her rack of dresses and shoes, and the way the light hit everything at the moment, seemed like it was, in fact, the room of a storybook princess. The princess who also happened to be my little sister, two years younger than me, and was the sexiest girl I had ever seen. And the secret truth about this pretty princess, her feminine smells, her dirty thoughts, the laundry basket full of her late-night fantasies, and her sweat made it all the most impossibly sexy thing that could exist in my mind. I laid her socks down near her bed, still wet, glistening, and obvious when you entered the room.

Then I went back into my room, leaving my door cracked open, and laid down on my bed, playing through what had just happened. I heard her coming up the stairs only a minute later. Her small footsteps seemed more hesitant than usual, and she passed even more slowly in front of my door. I didn't look; I just laid on my back and anxiously listened to her pass. Would she say something? She didn't close her door when she went into her room. She must see them, he thought. What would she think? Would it be gross? Would she be offended? Did she actually want to feel her own brother's cum on her fingers? His cum covering and soaking into the cotton of her cheer socks? My heart started racing again. I wasn't sure if it would be received with love. Maybe what I was doing was really wrong and mean.

My curiosity peaked five minutes later after not hearing a word from her room. I got up and went to the bathroom, or pretended to anyway, and as I walked by her room, I looked inside. I saw the socks were gone and saw just her feet and legs on the bedspread apart and her soles close together. I thought I saw her moving her hips as if squirming, but I quickly kept walking. I washed my hands and face, thinking to myself I shouldn't look in again, my heart pounding. It raced faster as I walked back and approached her door, and I could see just a little more now from this angle. I could see she may have been naked from her waist down, or her skirt was pulled all the way up. All of her bare legs were showing, and I could almost see what was between them. All I had to do was move my head a little to the left, which I did, and then I saw it just for a second.

She was naked except for her top, with her legs spread in front of her as she sat up in bed. And she was touching herself in what looked like a circular motion, with her hand between her legs and moving her hips and her head back, with moans just barely audible, like little whispers. In her left hand, she held her socks, the ones I came on and pressed against my hard wet cock. She wasn't trying to hide it. I peaked and watched just for a second. She was so lost in her world of pleasure I thought she wasn't even aware I was standing there, but I knew she would see me eventually, and I didn't want it to happen this way, so I quickly pulled myself back into my room and let her have her fantasy, just as I had mine. Though I felt now I wanted her to watch me too, it was only fair, so maybe next time I could make sure she could see me too, to see exactly what she did to her big brother.

Elevation

Everything changed between us in the weeks that followed. There was always a tension now, even in our little interactions in passing. I think we were both coming to terms with what was now so obvious and what we had done. And wrestling with the fact that our relationship was different, and that what we may be feeling between us was really wrong, or at least very much considered that way to everyone else. I can say that for myself, I was aware of the potential consequences if anything were to happen, that it was something that I could never take back, and that if anyone were to find out, it would hurt our parents deeply and ruin us. I knew this, but there was a sort of tunnel vision, a power that took hold of me when I was around her or when I thought about her. She was what I wanted above anything else in the world. What exactly I would do or what she wanted to do, I didn't know. Maybe we would just play these games together until we grew out of it, or maybe she would be ok watching, or maybe, I thought, maybe she would let me have just her feet, which seemed less bad than what we could do, not quite the big "I" word, I thought. And possibly she was thinking these things too.

We would still tease each other. She would leave her door cracked when she changed. I would sometimes take her socks and her panties from her room, especially after we had been in the living room together, and look at what was there in the middle, the little wet spots left for me, I thought, and taste them, my own little sister's pussy juice, when I came to her in my room. She would sometimes leave the door wide open and lay face down on her bed, with her feet and her legs in her skirt staring at me when I walked by. And sometimes she would do this in her skirt on the sofa too, but only when we were alone in the house.

As the summer was fast approaching, and the weather kept getting warmer, she would lay face down on the section of the sofa to the left in her skirt, looking up at the TV, and her legs stretched out behind her. I would sit next to her to the right, so close to her feet, staring at her legs and up her skirt, to her little panties that would show at times. And I would touch myself this way, wanting so badly to reach over and touch her feet and her legs when I did, but I held back. Sometimes she would leave her socks there on the floor for me beside her. I would be able to be so absorbed in her as I sat so close, totally captivated by her beauty, and again it felt as if the cracks in the earth would open, and I would have to give in and cum in deep long waves with her right there next me, toying with me. She embraced the things that seemed more unusual, meaning that possibly she liked it too, I wished. Or that she was turned on by knowing exactly how to drive me crazy and make me want her to the point that I felt helpless.