Sister Returns Home to Control Me

I am going to use this opening paragraph as the beginning to a number of stories - with no particular connection. Not parts of the same series. I hope it works and that you enjoy them. They might leave you hanging at the end...

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I have a very long tongue. Like the proverbial joke with the women swarming the dude who was licking his eyebrows, I amazed everyone by doing just that -- licking my eyebrows. My tongue tapered to a narrow tip and it had incredible strength and flexibility. It was a standing joke in my family and those who knew me. I had been named Cameron after my grandfather and was nicknamed Cammy, with it's implied reference to the chameleon with it's long tongue. I was often asked to demonstrate my amazing "talent" at family gatherings.

I was just about to graduate from high school and was looking forward to my 19th birthday in a couple of months. My only sister Jenny was four years older and was moving back home, having recently lost her job and subsequently her apartment on the west coast. She had moved out when I was just starting grade nine and I hadn't been sorry to see her go. Gorgeous and popular, she was self-centered and a "mean girl", often cruel and controlling, treating others (and particularly her younger brother) with disdain. I had been glad that she graduated our school before I started -- I was out from under her shadow. I had our shared bathroom to myself and I was free of her bossy and domineering hold over me.

I met the news that my sister was returning home with considerable apprehension. I loved her and our recent relations had been much better than in the past, but she was moving back into her old bedroom, which was adjacent to mine. We were in a separate wing of our spacious house, one that I had had to myself for the last four years. We shared a bathroom which was accessible from either of our respective bedrooms with our own access doors. I was afraid that when she moved in, she would quickly re-established her dominance over me once again. Memories of that time were often tinged with melancholy.

I had grown used to privacy and having the run of my own part of the house. But mom pointed out that Jenny was out of sorts too. Although I was no longer the bratty little brother always underfoot, she now had to get used to sharing a bathroom and shower with an awkward teenager. She had been used to ruling the roost and she quickly established that our bathroom schedule revolved around her wants and needs, not mine. I would get to know her schedule well in the next couple of weeks because there was hell to pay if I was in there when she wanted to shower.

She had arrived from the airport with only two suitcases and she quickly unpacked and settled in. She greeted me with a bear hug and I returned the embrace, pleased with our first few minutes together. I didn't see much of her over the next day or three as she re-established contact with friends from school who still lived in town. She-wolves, the whole bunch of them. Jenny was not working (or even looking for work) so we were often at home together during the day while mom and dad were at work.

When the moving truck arrived several days later, mom and I helped her with moving her stuff in. As I struggled with a heavy box of photo albums, Jenny intercepted me on the stairs and asked me to take them to my room. She would explain later, but mom was fussing about and Jenny was anxious that she might notice them and they might pique her curiosity.

Jenny had more stuff than she could comfortably fit into her room and some of her furniture items had to go to the basement. I had a second closet in my bedroom that wasn't being utilized fully, so I let Jenny use it for some of her clothes that she didn't have room for. It made sense that she would hang her lingerie there as her everyday clothes took up most of her own closet space.

As I helped her smooth out and hang up a startling number and variety of sexy and revealing gowns, merry widows and corsets, I developed an erection that I was unable to hide in the shorts I was wearing. Jenny noticed, but made no comment and I appreciated that -- I was flushed with both arousal and embarrassment. In the past, I might have been relentlessly harassed. It dawned on me that if I could keep my sister happy, she would let me be happy. I could be happy under her control.

I had placed the box of photo albums on the floor in the closet and she asked me to pull it out now, as we finished hanging her lingerie. She pulled out four of the dozen or so albums and told me to put these ones away -- somewhere where mom wouldn't find them. With no further explanation, she had me carry the box with the remaining albums to her room and place them in in her closet, next to her shoes.

Naturally, my interest was piqued. What was she hiding from mom? She hadn't said anything to me about the albums other than to hide them. Going to bed that night, I couldn't resist the temptation any longer. Trembling with anticipation, I opened the top one and leafed through the first few pages. I did the same with the other three to confirm what I was seeing.

Along with her regular photo albums, she had a collection of boudoir shots that she had organized into four separate binders. She had done her share of nude shoots because of the money, but she included none of these in her albums. There was nothing lewd or offensive about them and she was always posed solo. She was proud of these pictures.

I was not surprised that the photos were risqué (I had figured as much) but I was amazed and immediately blown away. Each album consisted of twenty-four 8 by 10 glossies which were divided by theme. They contained copies of pictures taken at dozens of photoshoots over the last four years. Ninety six in all.

The album I was looking at right now was professionally labeled "Cervin Paris" and consisted of shots of Jenny's legs encased in the most elegant stockings you could imagine. Some shots were sitting, legs crossed at the ankle, others standing in a variety of poses -- often emphasizing her muscular thighs and shapely cheeks. All but two had Rivoli garter belts, which had six suspenders rather than four. Matching bra and panties were in gorgeous colors (often transparent) and two full portrait shots of a braless Jenny.

I had an immediate and rigid Hardon. I realized right then and there that this was exactly what Jenny had wanted -- for me to use her albums to fuel my masturbatory fantasies. She had set me up perfectly. By the time I started back on the first page and taken my time with the first three pictures, I was reaching for the Kleenex box, making sure not to get any spunk on the glossies.

These albums were a treasure trove and not to be consumed hurriedly. If I rationed them carefully and kept track, I could have unique fantasies to beat my meat to for weeks to come. I realized that I would need to hide them effectively from mom - having photo albums full of erotic shots of my sister was not something I would want to try to explain to my parents. Jenny would not be a happy camper if that happened.

My sister really was sexy and gorgeous and I was reminded again of just how beautiful she was. She was a tall, statuesque woman that was both large breasted and slim. High school volleyball had left her with muscular, shapely legs. Washboard abs. She had perpetually erect nipples, a trait that she shared with our mom. She believed that they were her sexiest feature and was proud to show them off. She made little effort to hide their prominent profile and chose to wear bras and tops that allowed her to show them off to best effect.

Of course I wasn't aware of this at the time (nor were my parents) but my sister had been doing some "glamor" modeling since leaving home. She hadn't been honest with mom and dad and had sold them on a background story about how she had made her living. The sudden return home was left unexplained (at least to me). Jenny would get her old room back and she and I would have to re-established a rapport. We were brother and sister after all and mom was counting on me to make Jenny feel welcome. I was nervous.

Jenny confessed to me later that she had been vain enough to think that she might get into high-end fashion, but her curves got in the way. Haute couture models were invariably thin and small breasted and Jenny was neither. However, she ended up finding plenty of less lucrative work in glamor modeling - enough that she was able to make a comfortable living and to be able to afford a downtown apartment close to the photographers she worked with. She had a exhibitionist streak and she loved the industry, so...

Her favorite perk of the job was keeping the outfits that she modeled. Lingerie, swimsuits, corsets, gowns, matching bras and panties - the variety was staggering. As the exclusive North American model for Cervin Paris, who made the finest quality, pure silk stockings and Rivoli garter belts, she had a generous allowance in the finest of hosiery. They were much more expensive than domestically made nylon stockings and had a wide range of vintage styles and colors that were provided for Jenny directly from Paris. She treated them with kid gloves (so to speak) and had a trunk full of the finest silk stockings, some still in their original packaging.

She also insisted on copies of her favorite photos from each shoot and had 8 by 10 glossies made of them. But after four years of cheesecake and Pin Up modeling, her contracts ran out and both her photographers and her clients moved on. As her revenue dried up, she had to let her apartment go and asked mom and dad if she could move back home.

As she settled back in, I quickly became fascinated by her curvy, womanly and top-heavy body. Just the sounds of her taking a shower was enough for me to develop a hardon, leaning against my bathroom door as I pictured her mere feet away, soaping up those magnificent tits of hers as I stroked myself to completion. We were adults now and Jenny no longer worried that her little brother might inadvertently see her pussy. Our access doors to the bathroom didn't lock and they were meant to be closed when we showered or used the toilet.

Used to having a bathroom to ourselves, we had both become "careless" about our privacy. We settled on an open door policy, neither of us apparently objecting to intrusions by the other while showering. In fact, my sister would often prance around in the buff with only a towel. She was at least immodest, but I had no doubt that her "accidental" exposures were on purpose.

Jenny caught me staring at her deliberately exposed cleavage or her gorgeous legs several times. Her mere presence in the same room was enough to give me a woody. She was an exhibitionist and was well aware of the effect that her wardrobe malfunctions had on me. Her attire at home was deliberately provocative and she had a difficult time hiding her cleavage in the revealing outfits she always wore -- which was her intent. She came across to me as scornful and I was self-conscious of my awkwardness in her presence.

Mom chewed her out the first couple of times she noticed Jenny's exposed cleavage in the family room. She told her to dress more appropriately around the house, but after only a few days of acquiesce, Jenny just ended up ignoring mom's wishes. It became apparent that, if anything, she was bound and determined to tease and provoke me mercilessly and had no intention of toning things down. She enjoyed the power she had over me and knew that I was a voyeur -- that I had no problem with her wanton displays and that I craved glimpses of her exposed thigh or a nip slip.

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Our relationship had always had a dom/sub slant to it and that hadn't changed -- I was in my sister's thrall. She was anxious to exploit the hold that she had over me, but wasn't sure of the mechanics. She knew that there was little that I wouldn't do to please her and that she could use me for her sexual gratification if she chose. It was just that she had a never-ending string of boyfriends to contend with. Her looks ensured that there was always interest as one gentleman after another lined up to try their luck. However, her controlling nature kept them on edge and they often abandoned any hope of getting into her pants after a second or third date. She wasn't a virgin but she wasn't promiscuous either.

The problem was that they weren't submissive or, at least, submissive enough. They weren't me. Jenny so enjoyed her complete control over me and my complete submission to her will that the more mature and handsome men she dated just didn't measure up. Attractive, truly submissive personalities were hard to find. I wasn't jealous of her dating (she was my sister after all), but my perverse interest in my own sister's anatomy was now driving my behavior. Masturbating to her photos wasn't enough.

I was creeping around, peeping on my sister every chance I got. I had some incidental opportunities to see her in the nude in our shared bathroom, her deliberate nip slips, upskirts and teasing exposures and all, but they were all under her control, at her discretion. As exciting as I found ANY of Jenny's exposures, the thrill of peeping (of spying) on her undetected far outweighed the excitement of being in my sister's sexy presence under her control. I thought I was being clever and that Jenny wasn't aware that I was peeping on her, but I found out later that she had known from the moment I started.

Jenny always took her time when getting ready for a date. She would take a long, leisurely shower, freshly shaving her pits and crotch. Getting dressed was a whole production and might take close to an hour. Early on, I had taken the opportunity to slip into her bedroom closet beforehand, while she was having her shower. I could see right into the bathroom from my perch and I loved watching her towel herself dry and then apply lotion to every inch of her exposed skin before getting dressed. She would prance around and pose in front of her mirror while she let her skin absorb the lotion before putting on her stockings.

Jenny loved wearing a garter belt with her stockings and heels and I loved watching her donning them. She owned the finest silk stockings from Paris and wore white cotton gloves as she slowly and meticulously walked the panels up her legs and thighs, careful to smooth the usually flesh-colored material as she ran her splayed fingers from her ankle to her thighs. She took her time doing this and was continually standing and checking her seams out in the full-length mirror. The short nylon robe she wore stuck to her moisturized skin, offering tantalizing glimpses of bare flesh. It was like watching a striptease in reverse.

It was risky, I knew, hanging out in her closet, but she always picked her outfits out first, laying them on the bed before her shower. I grew bolder after a few successful sorties and would hurriedly strip naked in my own room before wrapping myself in a towel, grabbing a box of Kleenex and slip into her closet before she finished her shower. Lately, I had even taken a folding seat with me. It was incredibly high risk I knew, but being camped in her closet would be impossible to justify if I got caught anyway. I might as well be comfortable in the hot and cramped space -- a ringside seat to the greatest show on earth! To me, there was a reduced chance of making an inadvertent noise that might give me away if I was seated comfortably.

I suppose it was inevitable. She "caught" me peeping on her just about six weeks after my initial trip to her closet. I was hiding there again (as I had on a dozen occasions before) peeping through the louvered slots on the door. I was naked with just a towel for cover, sitting on a wobbly folding stool, idly playing with my cock. I was watching Jenny trying to straighten the seam on the back of her second stocking when I lost my balance. Reaching out to catch myself, I came crashing to the floor, popping open the door. Jenny was halfway dressed with her heels, stockings and skirt in place, but topless. As she stood over me, glaring down at me in mock indignation, her magnificent breasts swayed above my mesmerized gaze, her naked pussy lips glistening under her short skirt.

Feigning anger at this "intrusion" on her privacy, she noted my exposed erection, still in my hand as I had been beating it moments before. She placed one of her heels on my chest, pressing down with enough pressure to leave a mark, glaring into my eyes. She threatened to tell our mom unless I agreed to abide by her directions, her every direction, catering to her every wish and desire. Not just now, but going forward -- on a daily basis. This was not just going to be our usual arrangement where she had her way in most matters, she was going to dominate me as she chose. I was going to be required to obey her without question and to be available at a moment's notice. She may have thought I was upset, but I was ecstatic!

At that, she removed her heel from my chest, the indentation throbbing in relief and immediately squatted down to sit on my face. Her powerful thighs allowed her to suspend her pussy directly over my chin and my eager tongue. She slowly and deliberately lowered her engorged labia into place, then ground them forcefully onto them both. Her skirt covered me to my forehead and I lost sight of her magnificent breasts, but I was in heaven.

She had been waiting for this moment -- after all these years she was going to get to ride my tongue. My extraordinary tongue. The strength in her thighs allowed her to float over my rapidly vibrating tongue and guiding it to her desired effect. My tongue had greater reach than my fingers would have and I was able to stroke her G spot with the tip, her clit riding on the bulk of the tongue. She arched her back, her thighs quivering as a wave after wave of sensation overcame her. At that, she collapsed onto my face, clenching my jaw with her powerful thighs.

She stood up abruptly and told me to do so too, offering me a hand. I stood up awkwardly, my erection as stiff as ever. Jenny made no attempt to cover her exposure, her nipples fairly throbbing under my gaze. There was a blush evident from her upper chest right up to her cheeks and it wasn't from embarrassment. She was genuinely flushed with excitement, the newfound power over me intoxicating. I could see the wheels turning as it dawned on her that she could have me do whatever she wanted -- whatever she desired.

I was naked and she was bare-chested, so things were a bit awkward on my part. Jenny had been waiting for this for some time and wasn't going to let the opportunity pass. She quickly removed her wraparound skirt and lay back on her bed and propped herself up with some pillows, two under her butt cheeks. She had set herself to get eaten and I was happy to do it. Her shaved pubes had a slight stubble, but she was adamant that I use my tongue.

She was behind in her preparation for her date, so she used the portable phone on her bedside table to call him as I began to lap at her pussy. She managed to keep it short and bowed out with a plausible excuse, even as she was getting eaten. I heard her gasp to him that she would make it up to him as she blew him a kiss and hung up.

Her set up allowed me to lick her from stem to stern, my tongue's length giving me free reign from her anus to her clit and, with a slight pelvic tilt, inside to her hidden G spot. Licking the perineum resulted in a quivering reaction and it took no time before she was squirming. She thrust her pelvis forward firmly, riding my tongue for all it was worth. My cock was dripping and I needed relief, but she ignored it, insisting that I take care of her nipples next which were aching for my attention. She monopolized my tongue for the next 45 minutes and would not let me take care of myself until she was satisfied.