My sister came to live with me about a year ago. I hadn't planned for it nor did I especially want her to move in. It was just one of those things.
When I was 18 years old, four years younger than my sister, I got my first job sacking groceries. I worked in the evening after school and I hated it. It was a terrible job with a boss who was a tyrant. I vowed then and there that I would work as hard as I could and retire as early as I could. And so, I worked until I was 36. I built up a small, but successful trucking company which I sold to one of the major U.S. carriers for a tidy profit. I'd never have to work again.
One of the problems with deciding to retire young is that a lot of things are sacrificed along the way. I never married nor had children. I dated some, but once things began to heat up and point toward the alter I disappeared. I had a goal and I stuck to it. Nothing got in my way. I learned to live alone and to like it. And so, it was a real shock when my sister called last year and dropped the bomb shell. She was broke with no place to live.
My sister, Chris, had been married for 20 years when one day, out of the blue her husband keeled over dead. Just like that, with no warning he dropped dead. Of course, I went to the funeral and did what I could to help my sister. And like people do, I said, "If there's anything you need, you let me know!" It's a common thing people say at funerals. It's sort of expected. You never think you'll hear from them for help, but it sounds really good; "Just call me if you need something". In this case she did.
About 6 months after the funeral Chris called me. She was crying.
I answered the phone.
"Hello." I heard her sobs and recognized her voice.
"Johnny," she said.
"Chris! What's wrong? Is everyone okay? Are you okay?" She spoke, but I could hardly make out what she was saying.
"Look," I said. "Calm down. I can't understand you. Take a deep breath. What's wrong?
She took a few minutes then seemed to compose herself.
"Everyone is okay," she said through snorts and gasps.
I felt the tension in my chest begin to subside. "So, what's wrong?
Chris paused for a few second before she blurted out, " I'm broke. I'm about to lose my house."
Shit. I knew immediately where this was going.
I took a deep breath. "I thought you and Robert had investments," I said. I tried to sound positive.
By now Chris had stopped crying and was ready to talk. "I thought we did too. It seems that my dearly departed had a gambling problem. There's nothing. No stocks and bonds, no savings account and no life insurance. Nothing! He spent every cent. He even owes a bookie here in town. Thanks God I know the guy's wife. She got me off the hook with her husband. But all that aside, the foreclosure is next week."
I wiped my hand across my mouth. "So, how much do you need?"
Chris gave out an aggravated little laugh. "I didn't call for money! The house is history. I can't pay the mortgage now or later. I need a place to live!"
Oh shit. This was worse than I expected. We talked for an nearly an hour and I finally said those horrible words, "You can come and live with me."
It was settled. A month later Chris had sold everything she could and bought a plane ticket south. I met her at the airport.
I hadn't seen Chris in seven months, but I didn't expect her to have changed so much in such a short time.
Chris had cut her shoulder length hair to a short, almost boyish look and had bleached it blonde. The last time I had seen her she was a bit overweight; nothing really bad, just a little heavy. She must have gone on a killer diet because now she was gorgeous. The red halter top she was wearing accented her large breasts, which I guessed to be in the D cup range, while the shorts she had on played well to show off her long legs. I felt my dick move around in my pants.
"Hey," I said as I gave my sister a hug. She pressed those massive tits into my chest and I hoped she couldn't feel my hardening prick. We held hands through the luggage claim routine and our walk to my car. I could get the thought out of my mind; my sister was hot!
Chris talked all the way to home. She was going to cook and clean and do laundry. I wouldn't have to do a thing.
Chris settled in well. I had put a lock on my closet door and had hidden all of my sex toys where she wouldn't see them. I only hoped that I would have a chance to use them now and then. Having never married and hardly dated I relied heavily on my closet friends. Now with my sister walking around the house daily I would most likely be calling on my little electronic buddies as often as I could.
True to her word, Chris did all the housework as well as the cooking. We fell into a daily routine that seemed to work well for both of us. Of course, with her in the house 24/7 I found little time for my toys. It was hard (no pun intended) to watch my sister do her chores wearing the skimpiest clothes while I had to refrain from what had been a simple pleasure before she moved in.
It was a few weeks later when Chris was vacuuming the house that I heard a scream from my bedroom. I ran toward her at the same time she ran toward me and we collided. Chris looked like she had seen a ghost. I grabbed her shoulders. "What? What's wrong?"
She pointed to my room. "There's a woman in your closet!"
Shit, shit shit. I forgot to lock my closet. I shook my head, no.
"Yes, there is. I just saw her."
Good grief! How was I going to explain this one.
"That's not a woman. It's a doll."
"No," she said. "There's a real woman in there. I saw her. She's wearing a bikini. I saw her." Chris looked at me and I could see the realization come over her. "Oh my God. It's a sex doll."
Busted in my own house.
"Come on," I said, "I'll show you."
After I retired I invested in one of those real dolls, a life size recreation of a woman with all of the natural looking and working parts.
I took Chris back into my room and showed her the doll. She took a long look. "It looks so real. What do you do with it?"
I decided that I'd better come clean. If Chris was going to live with me in my house I wasn't going to go sneaking around anymore. I pulled the bikini off.
Chris looked at the doll's tits with its big dark nipples and its bare pussy with its lips, clit and hole. All she could muster was a simple, "Oh!" She left the room.
That night at supper we were quiet for most of the meal. Finally toward the end Chris said, "I'm sorry."
"Me too," I said.