I was masturbating in the bathroom of my sister's house; I had a pair of my sister's nylon panties over my face and I inhaled her musky odour as I furiously stroked my erection which I had wrapped in a pair of her black satin panties.
I ejaculated into the shiny black panties and once again feelings of remorse and shame replaced the feelings of sexual excitement. I removed the nylon panties from face and put them aside and then took a few folds of toilet paper from the holder and guiltily wiped away the pool of semen that I had spent into my sister's panties and blotted them dry as best I could. I buried both of the flimsy garments underneath the other clothing in the wash basket, flushed the toilet and pulled up my pants.
A lot had happened in the thirty-five years since that fateful evening on the train. My sister Michele, now fifty-one years old, had never married. Instead she had had a series of unsuccessful relationships all of which had ended messily. She had no children and had not had a partner now for over a year to the best of my knowledge.
We had drifted apart and saw each other spasmodically; usually during the holidays. I had been married and divorced and now lived alone; my two children grown up with kids of their own.
Downstairs I could hear the sounds of people making their excuses to leave the family gathering. Family gatherings were a rare event, and this Easter my sister had hosted a dinner party. It was an awkward event where my ex-wife and I pretended to be civil to each other and my children and their kids could barely contain their eagerness to leave the uncomfortable gathering.
I didn't think too much about what had happened between me and my sister on the train that night thirty-five years ago, but whenever I visited her house I inevitably found myself rummaging around in the dirty laundry in her bathroom and masturbating into a pair of her soiled panties, reliving the experiences of that fateful night.
We had never spoken of it and Michele seemed to have forgotten about the incident entirely. As we grew up and grew apart we didn't have much contact with each other anyway, and when we recounted our school days at the Graham Academy I steered the conversation away from the train trips that we made home for the holidays.
I came downstairs to the kitchen to see that everyone had packed up and was preparing to leave. I air-kissed my ex-wife and hugged my children and grandchildren and they beat a welcomed retreat to their respective cars for the long drive home.
"Guess it's time to go too," I said to my sister, feeling guilty about the act that I had just committed in her bathroom.
"Stay for a while Mike," Michele said and smiled wanly at me, "There are some things I want to discuss with you."
I poured myself a drink from the small bar; Michele declined a drink herself and followed the small crowd out of the door to wave farewell.
The house was still and quiet, and when my sister came back into house she walked past me and went up the stairs. I presumed she needed to use the bathroom and settled down at the kitchen table and nursed my drink. I had a good idea what Michele wanted to talk to me about. Our mother had died recently and there were still a few legal issues concerning her will that we needed to sort out.
I sat at the table staring down in a reverie hoping that I wouldn't have to stay too much longer. My daydream was abruptly broken when a pair of black satin panties dropped on the table in front of me. I froze; staring at the intimate garment which bore traces of my semen.
"Can you explain this!" my sister said sombrely.
I was gob-smacked and sat there speechless as my face paled and then changed to deep crimson with embarrassment and shame. I looked up at my sister's solemn face.
"Perhaps its better that I explain first," she said, pouring herself a drink and sitting across from me at the table
My sister had aged well. She carried a little more weight than when she was younger; her hips were wider and her breasts had sagged a little but she was voluptuous and still attractive. She still wore her hair in a short black bob and her makeup was heavy by today's standards; lots of eyeliner, mascara and eyeshadow; rouged cheeks and ruby-red lipstick on her pouty lips.
I stared at her; guiltily silent as she went on.
"I have noticed over the years that whenever you visited my home that my dirty-laundry basket had been tampered with and then I found that my panties were stained."
"I put it down to one of your teenage sons experimenting as he entered puberty. I'm not entirely naïve to the sexual peccadilloes of pubescent teenagers; I've had enough boyfriends over the years."
"But I eventually realised that it was my own brother who was transgressing; but I decided to leave the matter alone for the sake of family harmony," she said.
"Let me explain," I whispered as I tried to fumble out some inane excuse.
"No! Let me finish Mike," she said, silencing me with her curt tone.
"About three months I was having some personal problems; I was drinking too much and feeling despondent about the way my life has turned out."
"A friend put me on to psychiatrist who recommended hypnotherapy."
"After a few sessions I found that I was having strange dreams involving sexual fantasies where a stranger was molesting me. I was still a young girl and in my dreams I was always wearing the uniform that I had worn at the Graham Academy."
"Wait a minute Michele," I interrupted and now my face turned a deep scarlet and I was feeling physically sick.
"No; let me continue!" she snapped.
"I discussed the dreams with my psychiatrist who then she recommended that the hypnotist attempt to recover any repressed memories I might have. You've heard of that," she said accusingly.
"Oh my God Sis; I didn't know that you had repressed those memories; I thought we just had an unacknowledged agreement to never talk about what happened that night," I said; my voice both sympathetic and guilt-ridden.
Christ! I loved my sister, even though we seldom saw each other; and now it was apparent that what I did to her all those years ago had caused her psychological damage.
"I'm so sorry Michele; but I was a boy! I didn't realise that what I did to you was so bad; I thought we had put it behind us," I said.
"Ok Mike; I guess that constitutes some form of apology but we need to discuss this further; and we will, when I return," my sister said and stood up and left the room.
I sat there swamped with guilt and remorse staring at my sister's soiled panties lying in front of me on the table. I gulped down my drink and poured another, waiting for my sister's return and the accusations and wrath that were sure to follow.
I heard the click-clack of her heels on the stairs and then the kitchen door opened and my sister entered the room.
She was wearing her Graham Academy school uniform!
The blouse was too tight and she had to leave most of the buttons undone which exposed her white lace bra, barely containing her full breasts. The little A-line skirt was stretched tight around her waist causing a little roll of fat to form at her belly and the hem now rested halfway up her thighs. Her legs were encased in sheer tan pantyhose that glittered in light of the kitchen; they were a lot sheerer that the ones that women had worn in the seventies.
Even the toes of the pantyhose her were sheer, a little seam ran along the front of her toes drawing attention to her red-painted toenails. Her black open-toed platform shoes still fit her and she smelt of flowers and bubblegum. Memories of my youth at the Graham Academy came flooding back.
I stared appreciatively at my sister but I wondered why she had put on her old school uniform. Was this some ploy to make me feel even guiltier?
Michele smiled at me.
"Mike; I said was having strange dreams involving sexual fantasies. I didn't say that I found those dreams displeasing," she said smacking at a piece of Juicyfruit bubblegum.
"When my psychiatrist uncovered the memories of that night on the train she tried to convince me to confront you or even to go to the police," she said.
I balked at the shame and humiliation that was awaiting me should my sister take such action.
"But as I said; I never actually found the dreams unpleasant; I have to confess that I have been using them as an aid to masturbation."
"And when I discovered what you had been doing with my panties I figured that you too were using the memories for masturbation. Am I wrong?" she asked.
"Well you've figured it all out haven't you Michele," I said; now I was more inquisitive than frightened.
"Mike; we are both middle-aged and lonely. I don't know about you, but I don't want another permanent relationship, but I do like sex," she said, her voice now had a calculating tone.
"What you did to me on that train thirty-five years ago was wrong; but for whatever reason it has now become the focus of my sexual fantasies, and looking at the evidence before you on the table, it is still part of yours."
"But............." I tried to respond but Michele interrupted me.
"Besides; look at what I went out and bought yesterday!"
My sister lifted the hem of her A-line skirt and the rustling sound of the skirt on her nylons bought the memories flooding back again. She raised the hem of her skirt above her waist and I gasped. Modern pantyhose now incorporated sheer-to-the-waist gussets and I could see the shiny dark-green satin panties she wore underneath her pantyhose quite clearly.
"Oh my God!" I exclaimed and leapt from my chair.
Excitement and arousal overcame any reservations I may have felt and I took my sister in my arms and kissed her. She immediately responded and slid her tongue into my mouth. I tasted bubblegum and inhaled her scent as our tongues intertwined.
"Are you sure?" I gasped when we eventually broke our kiss.
"Silly boy," she responded and slid her hand between our bodies and squeezed my thickening cock through my trousers.
