"Hurry up, Kyle! We are going to be late!" my mom shouted from the front door.
"On my way now, Mom," I said as I hurried out of my room.
My mom and I were about to pick up my sister, Kelly, from the airport this afternoon. Since we both graduated high school, we left the house almost immediately for a bright future. Unfortunately, that meant Mom had to find other venues for a social life. Dad took off shortly after my sister was born and we haven't seen him since. Mom never held that against us though. She encouraged us to chase our dreams and made it clear she was very proud of us.
Last year I graduated from two year college, and decided to take a break to test out the work force. That effort didn't turn out very well for me. While my two year degree was something, most credible employers tended to respond with "Where is the rest of it?" So while I was struggling to find meaningful work, Mom let me move back in the family home at 21 years old.
My sister Kelly, was a year younger than me at 20, and took off to an all girls' school two states over immediately after high school. All this stacked together means I have only seen her maybe twice a year for a few days for the last three years. We got along fine, but were never attached at the hip, so to say.
A few hours later, Mom and I were walking through the airport to the arriving gate. I had to jog somewhat to catch up with her.
"Don't take your time or anything, Mother!" I said with a sneer.
"You want me to hold your hand so you can stay with me," she joked back. "because I can do that."
"Oh, would you please? I would really like that," I said sarcastically.
"There is a way to walk faster. It's called running," she shot back.
"Or you could walk like a normal person, maybe, I don't know..." I said back.
"I'll walk when I run out of gas," Mom said.
My Mom was a real gem, and I loved the playful banter that made us practically friends. At 45 years old, she kept in shape better than many 20 year olds. She can thank the Pilates classes and marathon training for that. She also ate a strictly healthy diet and never drank, smoked, or even consumed soda, so her face and body were wrinkle free and her black hair had no strands of gray whatsoever. She could easily pass for 30 years old.
On a few occasions, she was mistaken for my sister. It's also a nuisance I have to deal with constantly with my friends. I can't remember how many times I've heard "Dude, your mom is hot!" before telling them to shut the fuck up.
Walking behind her, I couldn't help but take notice of her slim figure and toned ass... not to sexualize my mom or anything.
We finally arrived at the gate and stood by until my sister emerged from the door. I was a bit taken aback. I was looking at her in a different light. While I still saw my beautiful sister walking towards us to give a hug, it didn't fly past me how incredibly attractive she was. With long dark hair, a slim figure in her long sleeve sweater, and tight blue jeans that hugged her slender thighs, my sister was definitely a looker.
As we embraced and walked back to the car, I trailed Kelly and it was too conspicuous to take note of the tight ass encased in those blue jeans. The tight ass of my Mom right next to hers was just as eye-catching. I felt a thrill up my leg. I immediately shook my head to clear such thoughts. We got in the car and headed home.
We did the things most families do when reunited. We cooked for each other, went shopping, to the movies, yada yada yada. The second day in, Mom went shopping out of town for some new decor we were going to help decorate with. Kelly and I stayed back and played some ping pong in the living room. We played constantly growing up, and I guess we both considered ourselves almost professional level in a sense.
"So are you seeing anybody?" Kelly asked as she smacked the ball at me.
"Seeing someone when I have no job and living with Mom? I can't even try," I said.
I returned the ball to her high intentionally to see if she would jump for it. She did and missed spectacularly. I got to see her toned tummy when she raised her arm high to swing. Not that I was trying to look, or anything.
"So you got a man?" I asked, trying to appear as stone cold serious as possible. Kelly looked at me and burst into laughter.
"Is that how you find out of the ladies are single? Tell me that was a joke," she kept laughing.
It was, and I didn't need her to answer it truthfully because I already knew the answer. She went to an all girls' school as a full time student with a part time job. Kelly and Mom were practically best friends and talked on the phone at least 3 times a week. They both expressed their trouble in finding time for a romantic life to each other. Mom as a nurse and worked nearly 60 hours a week sometimes, while still making time for her physical fitness, so finding time to meet men just wasn't an option at the present. That being said, Mom tells us over and over how much she loves her job, so I don't think it hindered her that much.
"You know I'm going to win, right?" Kelly said before the next serve.
"How?" I asked, "You're not winning now."
"I'm getting my second wind," she replied.
"How about this," I said, "If I win this round, you pay for dinner for all three of us tonight."
"Is that all you got?" she asked. "Paying for dinner? That's not much incentive not to lose."
"Well what do you have in mind?" I asked.
"Well, think of something that would make you want to win with all your might," she said, with a hint of slyness in her voice. I was perplexed.
"I'm not getting you, Kelly," I responded after a few seconds.
"What about a challenge that would make winning the most important thing in the world right now?" Kelly said.
"I'm pretty good about keeping the right attitude that is required to win. What's the challenge?" I said.
"OK, one game. For every shot missed, the loser..." she trailed her voice to keep me in anticipation.
"The loser what?" I said with playful frustration.
"The loser has to remove an article of clothing," she said.
"What?!" I responded.
"That'll bring out our best game, won't it?" she laughed.
"I don't know," I said, a little hesitant to go along with this.
"You do realize that by not accepting the challenge means I win, right?" she threw back.
I thought about it for a minute. We were getting pretty damn cutthroat in our competition, and who was the best was the theme of the day. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? I could end up playing ping pong shirtless in my own home. Not to toot my own horn, but I kept in pretty good shape all things considering.
"You're on!" I declared.
"Awesome!" she screamed as she readied her serve. She looked up and gave me a devilish grin.
"You've never been so ready to win before, have you?" she said. And you know what? She was right. My focus was never as sharp as it was right now. But I didn't fully realize at the moment, so was Kelly's. Then she served.
I was on point. I returned her serve and she smacked it right back. We never had a game this intense before. Eventually, I volleyed a shot that her swing went slightly over. She lost the first shot.
"Oh, not good," she said as she kicked off her right sneaker.
I felt good about this, but it was for nothing. She was just as good as I was, and we did nothing but tie each other. I lost the next shot, and my shoe came off. Then the other shoe was lost. And then the socks came off, one at a time. Pretty soon we were both bare foot. I won the next two shots by some miracle, and both of Kelly's rings came off. Then my ring, and then her necklace. To rub it in, my next loss saw my belt come off. She snickered, and then her hair bow came off after the next loss. I tried to argue that those weren't clothes, but some fights you just can't win.
I realized I still had sunglasses on top of my head, so that was sacrificed next. She protested, but hey, rules are rules, right? She wasn't done, and scored another shot past my head, and I had to take off my over shirt. I only had on a t-shirt underneath. Now I was getting nervous.
She was on a roll and determined, and the next shot went under my arm as my head bowed in defeat. I knew what this meant.
"Yes! Unless you have a piercing I don't know about, you know what to do," she teased.
No piercings here, so I lifted my shirt over my head and tossed it aside.
"Ooh, you've been working out, haven't you?" she teased again.
"Glad you noticed," I said before quickly serving the ball again and she missed on the first swing.
"Dammit!" she said, but quickly smiled again.
"Ok, a deal is a deal," she said as she peeled off her shirt to reveal her fit tummy and C cup size tits encased in a tight white bra. I tried not to stare, but holy hell my sister was hot. She didn't seem to mind if she did notice, because she was ready to return the favor.
"Here we go!" she exclaimed as she launched the next serve. This was our longest round, which at the end we were both working up a sweat, but she proclaimed victory on this one. I slumped my head in defeat, but she didn't let up.
"You know what this means," she said. I looked at her. "Drop em!" she yelled.
In defiance, I removed my pants and stood ready to serve in nothing but my boxer shorts. I realized I forgot the score, and looked at the cards on the side. She was at 10, me at 9. I guess when you are having fun, you really do lose track of the score. I had to win this shot. And we would both be in nothing but our underwear. Besides, I couldn't lose this next shot. That would mean I would have to...
I stopped thinking and served the ball. She came swinging hard, with her tits still bouncing slightly in her bra, but this round was not hers to win. The ball sailed past her paddle and she cursed slightly.
"Hail to the King!" I screamed with my arms in the air.
"You ass!" she said mockingly as she unbuttoned her pants and slid them off. I must say, seeing her in her tiny panties was one of the hottest things I've ever seen. I tried not to stare, but it was almost as hard as the game was.
She held the ball in front of her and grinned like the devil.
"If I win this next shot, you know what it means, right?" she said.
"You shouldn't think naughty things, you know?" I replied.
