The Fall season in the mountains offers wonderful scenery and a feeling of being alive, vibrant, and colorful. Living in near vicinity to such grandeur, one can possibly become spoiled to what nature brings to a mountain region, so, visiting particular locations every now and then is essential to keep that feeling of life fresh in our mind. Having attended a University located within such a region, I was invited to the yearly Homecoming festivities every October. I hadnât gone to any since the year after I graduated, and, until my older sister, Deb, received her invitation (she was also a graduate of this institution) and mentioned it to me, really didnât think about it very much. That would change.
During a Labor Day barbacue at her house, my sister asked if I was on the mailing list for the Homecoming Celebration from the University, because she had received her invitation that same week. âYeah, I did..itâs on my desk somewhere at homeâ, I answered her, in a matter-of-factly manner. Surprising me, Deb told me she was âThinking about checking it out this yearâ, due to being away from the campus for about 10 years. As I gazed at her smooth stomach peaking out from her crop top each time she raised her arms over her head to put dishes away, I fielded another of her inquiries: A simple, direct âWanna head up with me? Câmon, I think itâd be fun.â. Pretty much without hesitation, I responded âSure, Iâll go with you. Weâll hit some of the old bars while weâre up there, too. First oneâs on me.â I shook her siniwy, red-nailed hand and sealed the deal.
Deb was in her mid-30s, but, she had the body of a tight, toned 22 year old, with a hidden wild side to match. In fact, she could still pass for a college student. We had always gotten along very well together, helped along by our difference in age (6 years), and her own comfort level with sexual issues which led to a green-light for me to use her as a sort of âsexual learning toolâ. Deb was the first woman I ever saw totally naked, the first that let me touch her womanly parts, and a constant flirting object who knew how to return the favor. So, when the opportunity presented itself to spend a day and evening at our old college, just the two of us, I had to jump on it. As the weeks passed, I thought about this Homecoming weekend over and again. In a few emails, I could tell Deb was, too. For example: âJay- Do you have a newer SCU sweatshirt I could borrow? Mine is too small on me. Guess my boobs grew since college!â. This sort of joking was normal, but, I wanted a response that would flirt back at her. âDebs: Yes, I have one for you. But, your huge knockers better not stretch it out! Would a t-shirt do the same thing, you think?â
Even though we had joked like this a lot, I wasnât sure what her response would be. Minutes later, I found out, in a simple, 8 word email. âThanks. I suppose youâd want the t-shirt wet?â. After reading this several times, I couldnât help but be excited about the possibilities. Typing my response, I apprised her that I would take the sweatshirt to her house, that weâd leave from there, and that any wet t-shirt results would âneed my close and hands-on inspectionâ. In her last email response to me before the Homecoming weekend festivities, my sister led on that âInspection can be arranged under the proper circumstances, budâ. We set 9:00am Saturday for departure, as the campus was an approximate 2 hour drive. Deb was waiting and ready as I pulled up the driveway. Ever the chivalrous type, I loaded her single bag into the car, and met her inside for a quick coffee to-go. Wearing tight jeans and a bulky, chest-covering sweater top, my sister sauntered around her kitchen so sexily I wanted to reach out and grab her. However, because her hubby hadnât left yet, I (and, for that matter, we) had to be good. This was heating up as I observed those tight-jeaned hips sway about, and she, undoubtedly, knew what she was doing.
At last, David left, and, upon his departure, I quipped to my sister: âNice sweater, D..Looks a little, errr...loose, though..What up?â. Snidly, she turned around and removed this mass of excessive fabric, revealing herself in her bra. âGot my sweatshirt, bud?â she laughed, standing not 3 feet from me with her hands on her hips, flaunting her body. Gathering myself, I said âYeah..Itâs in the car.. But, Iâm enjoying this much too much to go get itâ, reaching for her tummy. Teasingly pulling back, my sister giggled âAh, ah..bud. No handling the merchandise, only window shoppingâ, followed by a sexy âfor now, anywayâ. Breaking a hint of sweat, I directed her that âWe should start up there to beat some traffic...Feel free to take off whatever else you want, thoughâ, sucessfully running my fingers over her navel and braising her jeans button. I fetch the sweatshirt, and my flirting, giggling sister pulled it over her flowing hair. We hit the road within minutes, both plotting further flirting and possibly more.