Strip Sac

Scott pumped his arm and launched the football my way, a perfect spiral. I jogged a few steps back and to my right, just enough to pull it down. Then I repositioned and sailed a pass back to him, a little wobble marring an otherwise smooth arc. Scott made an over-the-shoulder basket catch. The showoff.

I said, "Nice snag, man. You've been practicing."

"A little. Gotta stay sharp, right?"

Scott and I played football together in high school, but college was a different story. I go to the University of Nebraska and Scott goes to Texas A&M, both huge football schools. You have to be damn good to play Husker or Aggie football, and neither of us are that good. We both play on intramural squads, but it isn't the same as the real deal--no stadium full of cheering fans, no fancy weight room, no scholarship.

It was the day after Thanksgiving. Scott and I were both home from college, enjoying the gorgeous mid-70s temperatures with some quality time in my back yard while most of my family was shopping. Actually, I should say

my parents'

back yard, since I haven't lived here full time for two years. It still felt like home.

Scott said, "Hey, Ryan, want to take a break for a while?"

I needled him. "Aw, your arm ain't what it was, Scotty."

He chuckled and said, "Gotta save some strength." We made our way to the picnic table on the back porch and sat on the table with our feet on the plank seat, looking out at the yard, the pigskin between us.

Scott and I were inseparable in high school. In addition to playing football together, we took the same classes, hung out with the same people, and were each other's support system. In high school I knew just about everything there was to know about Scott, even the gross parts. He knew the same about me. I had to admit that we didn't know each other as well anymore after two years at separate colleges.

"So," he said, "how's Hannah doing?"

The one mystery about Scott was his feelings about my little sister. I was pretty sure he had a thing for Hannah in high school, but he never mentioned it and I never asked. I thought they might go out, but as far as I know they never did.

"Hannah's doing great. She graduated this year and started at community college."

"So she still lives here?"

"Yeah. Dad always said he'd kick her out when she turned 18, but I guess he had a change of heart because her birthday was 6 months ago."

"Man, little Hannah is 18?"

I recoiled in false amazement. "Dude, we're 20, and she's always been two years younger. I don't know why this is such a shock."

"I don't know, time flies, I guess."

"Yeah, now you sound like my grandpa. What was it like back in the olden days? Bunch of whippersnappers."

"Shut up. I'm just saying, a lot has changed around here while I've been at college, you know?"

"Yeah."

The sound of the sliding door caught our attention, and we both turned to see Hannah coming out on the patio. "Hey, Scott," she said.

"Hey," he said back, not the most affectionate greeting for someone who was so nostalgic about her youth just a minute before.

Hannah was in shorts and a tanktop, her normal running attire. I said, "How was the jog today?"

"Just OK. Part of my route is closed for construction, so I didn't go as far as usual."

Scott said, "That sucks. Why do they have to close it on a holiday weekend?"

"I know, right?" she said. "Anyway, what are you guys up to today?"

I said, "Throwing the football around. Probably watch a game later."

"Is this what throwing the football around looks like? Sitting on your butts?"

Leave it to Hannah to make me feel right at home. I smiled and said, "Well, we just sat down."

She kept laying it on. "

Sure

you did. Been working out like crazy all morning, right? And just stopped the second before I got home? What a coincidence!"

I couldn't stifle a laugh. "Well, Scott wanted to take a --"

Scott interrupted me mid-sentence. "Hannah, you want to throw the ball around with us for a while?"

"Oh," she said, "well sure. Why not?"

We hauled our butts off the table and went back out in the yard. On the way out, with Hannah out of earshot, I whispered to Scott, "Save some strength?"

He whispered back, simply, "Shut up."

We took turns tossing the ball in a triangle formation. Hannah was no slouch. She'd played lacrosse in high school, and she had good upper body strength and hand-eye coordination.

After a few throws each, I said, "You guys want to play some two-on-one?"

Scott said, "Sure."

At the same time, Hannah said, "Well that sounds unfair. Who gets to be the one?"

"No, it's not like that," I said. "We take turns being quarterback, receiver, and defender. When you're quarterback, you have four downs to make a pass to the receiver on the other side of the yard. The defender will either rush at you or guard the receiver. If you complete the pass then you and the receiver each get a point. Everyone keeps their own score."

"Oh, OK," Hannah said. "It sounds pretty much like what we've been doing, just slightly more moving our feet."

"Yeah, I suppose."

Scott said, "And no running plays. The quarterback has to pass on every down."

"OK," she said. "I think I get it."

I said, "Let's play a practice down. I'll be quarterback, Scott will be receiver, and Hannah, you can defend."

They were fine with that idea. We set up a line of scrimmage even with the edge of the patio on one side of the yard, with the goal line on the opposite wall. It wasn't a huge yard, but big enough that you had to make a good throw.

I lined up in a crouch with Scott to my right and Hannah facing me. She had the posture and facial expression of a bruising NFL linebacker, even if her body was a fraction of the size and a much different shape.

I said, "Hike," and as Scott ran downfield, Hannah burst over the line and slammed into me, taking me down. Her posture and expression were obviously a better indication of her intensity level than her size. As if a sack on the first play wasn't bad enough, she made matters worse by stripping the ball out of my fingertips before I hit the ground, then ran with it behind me to the edge of our yard.

She hoisted the football above her arms and let out a whoop, then literally skipped back to where I was still lying on the ground, unhurt but with my pride dinged. She said, "Hey, that was a strip sack!"

From the ground I wasn't thrilled to give her credit, but she had sacked me, and she had stripped the ball away from me. Picking myself up off the lawn, I said, "Yeah, nice play. But I'll be ready for you next time."

She was still dancing around with the football. "You can't just take it easy when you play your little sister, you know."

"Fine," I said. "All right, I'm out as QB because of the sack. Which one of you --"

Hannah barged in. "Wait a sec, Ryan. I'm just now remembering something."

"What? How to be a gracious winner?"

"Very funny," she said. "No, I'm remembering when you guys used to play football at our house with a bunch of other boys."

"Yeah, those were good days," Scott chimed in. "That was a long time ago."

Hannah continued. "I'm remembering something very specific that used to happen. I think it happened after a strip sack. Yeah, I'm sure of it. You remember, right?"

Jesus. I had an inkling what she meant, but I didn't want to be the one to say it out loud. "No, what are you talking about?"

"C'mon, bro, don't play dumb with me. You and Scott both know exactly what I'm talking about. You guys had a ritual every time there was a strip sack."

I said, "Hannah, that was such a long time ago. Back then it was just a bunch of boys goofing around in the yard. And anyway, how do you even know about this?"

"Did you think I wouldn't notice? Whenever you guys started making funny noises out here it was usually because of a strip sack, and I could see from my window exactly what was going on. It was the same thing every time."

"Yeah, well, those days are long gone."

She said, "You're too good for it now that you're in college, is that it? You're too fancy for the strip-sack penalty? Or is it because your little sister is the one who strip sacked you? It doesn't count when you get taken down by a woman, is that it?"

"No, it's not that, you sacked me fair and square, but we can't just --"

Hannah interrupted with a sing-songy chant: "Strip sack, strip sack, strip sack." It was the same chant we'd used way back when, and she had the inflection down perfect.

I looked over at Scott to back me up. He was standing quietly near us, taking in both sides of the conversation with an odd smile. "Scott, can you explain to Hannah that we haven't used the strip-sack penalty in ages?"

He tilted his head to the side as if in deep thought, then said, "I don't actually remember deciding to give up the penalty."

I was alarmed that he seemed to be taking her side. "Well, maybe not, but --"

He continued, "I think what happened is that at some point there just weren't any more strip sacks." After a beat, he said, "Today, Ryan, you got strip sacked."

Dammit, I needed backup from him, not betrayal.

I took off my shirt and threw it over toward the patio. It fell short, but at least it was out of the way. "OK, my shirt is off, and I'll leave it off for four downs. Now can we get on with it?"

Hannah said, "Your shirt? That's not the penalty I remember."

"I know, but I think that's a decent compromise for today."

"I need more than that for my first strip sack, bro."

"But --"

"No one can see you out here. It's completely secluded. You don't have to be embarrassed. Now take your penalty like a real man."

I sighed with resignation. There was no point in arguing with her, or we'd be at it all day. I took a couple of steps toward the patio, then put my thumbs under the waistband of my shorts and underwear. After a deep breath, I pulled them both down, worked them over my shoes, and tossed them over by my shirt. Except for my shoes and socks, I was naked as the day I was born.

Hannah applauded and literally hooted at my nudity. Her eyes were running up and down my body, soaking me in. She said, "Now that's more like it, Ryan. That -- right there -- is what you get when you're strip sacked."

I had a powerful urge to cover my crotch with my hands, but I restrained myself. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how embarrassed I was feeling. I turned away from Hannah to look at Scott, and I found him not paying attention to me. His eyes were only on Hannah, silently watching her reaction.

I said, "OK, let's play four downs so I can get dressed. Scott, you're quarterback next. I should really be on defense next, but you might rather not have me in your face right now."

Hannah agreed. "Sure, Ryan, you can receive. I'll be on defense again."

Scott set up at the line of scrimmage, the same place as our first play. I was wide left--I felt more comfortable the farther I was from the other two. Hannah was right across from Scott, just a foot or two away, looking right at him. She had a funny grin on her face. I couldn't see his expression, so I don't know if she was reacting to something he was doing.

He said, "Hike," and I took two steps forward before turning around to run backwards so I could watch the play. It felt weird to run naked--my soft schlong flopped up and down with every stride.

I put my arms out to give Scott a target, but he didn't get a throw off. Instead, Hannah lowered her head and came at him like a battering ram. He saw her coming and backpedaled, but he wasn't nearly fast enough. She made contact with him and I watched him lose his balance, trying to remain upright but ultimately failing. On his way down, she took advantage of his instability and plucked the ball from between his arms. It was almost a repeat of the previous play.

Hannah was getting into a groove. She held the ball up again and started the same sing-songy chant, "Strip sack, strip sack, strip sack!" Scott stayed on the ground, obviously not hurt but looking sheepish.

I felt like I needed to be a voice of reason, considering the circumstances. "Hannah, we're not going to have Scott strip while he's a guest at our house."

"A guest? That's your excuse this time?"

"It's not an excuse, I just don't want him to be uncomfortable."

She shifted her gaze between me and Scott. "A dignified guest should expect to play by the rules."

Scott chuckled at her remark. "Dignified," he said, still flat on his back. "Yeah, I feel especially dignified right now."

I was exasperated. "Scott, you don't have to do this. Let's just take a break, we'll go in and do something else for a while."

Hannah wasn't having any of it. "Ryan, it sounds like Scott admits to being the dignified guest, and that he's eager to comply with the rules of the game. Isn't that right, Scott?"

Scott pulled up into a sitting position and didn't respond for a few seconds. I was about to say something else when he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the grass. Hannah cheered at this, and she was all smiles as she watched him stand up and yank off his shorts and boxers. This only egged her on further. She applauded and hooted him just like she'd done for me.

I'd seen Scott naked growing up, mostly in the locker room. He was bulkier than I was without looking chunky. I envied his upper body musculature, which if anything was more pronounced after a couple years in college.

I'd never made a point of comparing our cocks, but from what I'd seen in high school they seemed pretty similar. Still, looking at him in our yard that day, his seemed more pronounced than mine too. It isn't like I was staring at it or anything, but it was right there in my field of vision and I couldn't help but see it. The thing is, it looked like he was semi-hard, which seemed odd to me, because I was too embarrassed to be hard.

"Now this is the way football should always be played," Hannah said. "It's my turn to be QB. Which of you bare butts want to receive?"

Scott said, "I'll receive," which put me on defense.

Scott was picking up his clothes and moving them out of the way. He looked to make sure Hannah wasn't watching, then summoned me by curling his index finger. I jogged over next to him as he walked toward the patio. Just two naked guys, nothing unusual here. He whispered, "She could stand to be taken down a peg or two."

I whispered back, "Or eighty."

"Listen," he said, " I'll give you a hand on this play. You go for the ball."

I liked the way he thought. "Got it."

We went back to the playing field. Hannah had the ball between her legs and Scott put himself right next to her, so close they were almost touching. I moved in right opposite Hannah. We stood there for a while, Hannah the only one of us wearing anything more than shoes and socks. She let the tension build, let our junk dangle in the warm breeze, and at last she said, "Hike."

Instead of going downfield, Scott turned and grabbed her in his arms. She wailed and struggled to get free, but he had her in a firm grip. I stepped across the line of scrimmage and snagged the football while Scott pulled her to the ground in a smooth, easy motion.

I couldn't resist mimicking the same chant she'd made twice up to then. "Strip sack, strip sack, strip sack!"

She squirmed out from under Scott and stood back up. "No way, one of you guys was supposed to be on my team. What the hell was that?"

Scott got up and said, "Oops, sorry about that. I forgot which side I was supposed to be on."

I smiled at this, and I saw Hannah's mouth crinkle in amusement too, but she didn't admit it. "Like hell you did," she said. "Plus, that was holding. A clear penalty."

I said, "You can't get called for holding when it's two people on the same team."

"Damn you."

I used her own words against her, gleefully. "I'm sure you want to be dignified and play by the rules."

"Yes, but if Scott forgot what team he was on, maybe we should just call that play back and do it again."

I said, "How about this compromise: we'll run the play again, but first you have to strip."

"For gods sake, that's not a compromise."

I wasn't deliberately looking at Scott's cock, but I couldn't help but notice that it was unquestionably bigger than it had been a minute before, and it was pointing away from his body at a different angle. He was getting turned on by this. He was getting turned on at the thought of my sister naked, while she begged for mercy. The thought of this made me not so sure I should egg her on so much.

Scott picked up the cause. "After one down you won't even notice anymore. You'll fit right in with me and Ryan."

Hannah squinted and growled at us. At heart, she never wanted any special treatment, and I knew she'd be struggling internally over how much to push back against us.

She said, "How about this compromise." As she finished the words she stripped off her tanktop and slid her shorts down over her thighs, leaving her in a sports bra and a pair of white cotton bikini panties. She put her arms out, palms up, and raised her eyebrows, looking back and forth between me and Scott. The outfit showed off a lot of my sister's body, more than I would have guessed. If she wasn't my sister, I'd have said she had a very fine body. With her curves and lean shape she could easily have been a model.

I'd have settled for this for four downs, but Scott was pushing for more. He said, "Hannah, you look incredible, you really do, but me and Ryan didn't leave on our underwear." His cock was pointing straight out from his body now, and she had to notice his arousal, and she had to know she was causing it.

She stared at Scott for a long beat, none of us saying a thing. The tension was getting so thick that I was almost ready to let her off the hook. But before I had a chance, she wrapped her fingers around the lower elastic band of her bra, carefully lifting it up and over her breasts, giving us a clear view. I watched intently, and I'm sure Scott did too. Her body contorted as she pulled the bra over her head and threw it aside.

I'd seen Hannah naked before too, but it had been many, many years. I couldn't even remember the last time. At that moment I realized that she was a very different woman than the last time I'd seen her topless. Her breasts were exquisite, each one a generous handful. The sports bras she always wore squeezed down their true size. They were pale white, an indistinct tan line making them all the paler in contrast. Her areola were larger than I expected, the diameter of plums, and the color got darker pink toward the centers. Her dark red nipples seemed like they were staring at us. In fact, they were just the objects of the stares.

She put a hand under each breast and cupped them, pulling them together, massaging them. It was a sexy move, and I say that as her brother. I can't even imagine what Scott must have thought of it.

We ogled for only a few seconds before she moved her hands away from her chest and pulled down those white panties. Her crotch was completely hairless, which gave us a better view of the delicate skin between her legs as she stretched the panties out to get them over her shoes. In a few seconds she was naked like the rest of us. She had a noticeable tan line around her nether regions as well, and the pale white skin surrounding her pink pussy made it even more striking.

As she straightened up to her full height again, I confirmed what a stunning naked body my sister has. I'd had no idea, but the facts were undeniable. I turned to look at Scott and found him in open-mouthed awe. Scott's cock, my gauge of the intensity of the moment, was pointing upward and throbbing noticeably.

Hoping to de-escalate, I said, "Hey, I just have two more naked downs. Let's get them over with. It's my turn as QB again. Hannah, you receive. Scott, you're on defense."