I couldn't possibly have envisaged that the best week of my life would commence so very nearly in tragedy. Parting company with the bike and somersaulting gracefully through the air to the accompaniment of the Kaiser Chiefs, there could surely only be one outcome: death, and if not death, serious injury. Yet, by some twist of fate, my fall was broken, cushioning the collision with the concrete and inflicting just a busted knee.
There was no reason to suppose as I groaned on the ground that the cause of my fate, reckless driver Ally Tranter, would turn out to be a teenaged nymphomaniac. Or for that matter that her family would turn a normal healthy guy of thirty into a rabid sex addict. But fate has a way of evening things up, and something in me changed on that lonely back road. Having been led on the path to depravity by the Tranters, here I was the Friday after the accident, lusting after my sweet little eighteen-year old sister.
Alive yet unable to climb the stairs at home, I found myself back in the care of my parents, living in their bungalow with Sophie until I was fit to walk again. Despite being an independent soul in the former life, I loved all the fuss and attention, especially when it came from Sophie.
Before my little accident sent their lives off on a tangent, mum and dad had planned to spend the weekend at the coast. They very nearly cancelled but, between us, Sophie and I convinced them we could cope. Sophie's assuredness cheered me, though she had a vested interest in getting rid of the folks: her two best friends were due to be staying over.
With mum and dad finally out of the way, from my couch I overheard Sophie on the telephone, making excited plans. First up was Jessie, my sister giggling throughout the whole conversation. Quite what they had planned, God only knew. Then it was on to Gina, but with no reply, Sophie left a message, before glancing my way. "What are these friends of yours like?" I enquired, matter-of-factly, trying to exude an air of cool seniority.
"In what way?" Sophie enquired with a smile, twiddling her blonde hair around a slender index finger.
I meant, of course, what did they look like? Sophie knew I wasn't interested in whether they were kind to animals or how they were getting on at school. I was, after all, a normal hot-blooded guy with the usual urges, albeit those urges were running dangerously out of control. Already during this convalescence I'd hauled my body up to sneak a peek on Sophie getting changed in her room, gaining brief flashes of her undergarments, the image savoured over three subsequent bouts of self-pleasure. Yet I craved more, much more.
"Mmm, tell you what, Steven, I can show you," she giggled, adding with a scrunched-up nose: "What my friends look like, that is."
Five minutes later the laptop was on my lap, nudging a semi-aroused cock. Leaning over me closely, Sophie's girlie aroma, a mix of light scent and progesterone, filled my nostrils. As she bent, her breasts jiggled inside the shirt, a hint of lace-clad flesh visible through the gap in the buttons. How I could just reach over and cup those shapely orbs. My breathing upped a notch whilst my bloated penis head grazed the bottom of the laptop. As she moved Sophie's left breast brushed my cheek. I heard a gentle feminine gasp causing a tingle to spread around my groin.
Pretending to be unaware of the effect she was having on me, Sophie clicked on one of the files, revealing several thumbnails. She clicked again, the screen blossoming with colour. The picture was of Sophie and her friends taken during a winter holiday.
Another little shiver of excitement teased my groin, though all three were fully decent. It was, I guessed, a combination of knowing these girls would be sharing the bungalow for the next two and a half days, on top of my newfound burgeoning sex drive.
Gina was the tallest of the three, a statuesque raven haired beauty with a catwalk-like demeanour and a Julia Roberts smile. The thick orange sweater gave no clue as to the delights that lay beneath, though I was sure Sophie had let slip that her friend was a DD. Sophie stood in the middle in the photo, as cute as a button as her long blonde hair stretched like tentacles in the breeze. In a padded white ski coat she looked a vision of virginal innocence. The third girl, Jessie, looked younger than her friends, though at nineteen was actually the eldest, a petite vision in rectangular glasses. Her anorak was open at the front to reveal a grey sweatshirt.
I wondered if Sophie had any more pictures, perhaps taken at a less inclement time of year.
At that moment the phone rang and Sophie left my side momentarily to pick it up. It was Gina. Thinking fast, I reduced the screen, eyes scanning for other files that might feed my insatiable hunger. One was entitled 'Sophie – private'. Well that was enough to arouse the interest of any horny thirty-year old male. Checking that she was still engaged on the phone, I clicked. This created three fresh thumbnails. Glancing up to check the coast was clear, my heart raced with anticipation and fear of getting caught. The screen expanded with colour once more, the resultant image causing a severe exhalation of breath and a Marty Feldman expression. Content to have uncovered a bikini snap or even t-shirt and shorts, this pushed the boundaries to their limits.
There, in all her naked glory and seated on this very couch was Sophie, posing for the camera like something out of a top shelf magazine. Her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, my eyes feasted on her breasts, a perfect c-cup and as firm and ripe as two oranges. By the way her pretty pink nipples stood to attention either it was cold or she was excited. Moving my eyes slowly down her body, past the ladylike expanse at the hips, I fixed on the most beautiful snatch, lightly brushed with soft straw-coloured wisps of hair. Oh this was absolute heaven, and I only wished there were more time. My appreciative eye noted that her pussy lips were plump and pouty with a feint glistening of arousal.
Quickly I x-ed out of the image, afraid of discovery, though her conversation with Gina seemed in full flow, and there might just be time to open the second. My hand hovered tremulously.
The screen expanded to reveal Sophie taken from an aerial view, stretched out the length of the couch, legs parted, heels resting on the padded arm. Her lips parted seductively, one hand cupped a breast whilst the other had strayed between her legs. Impossible to tell whether she was fingering herself, the look on her innocent features suggested she was.
To my amazement, the conversation with Gina showed no sign of abating, so guiltily I moved to the third and final thumbnail, only aware of how hard I'd become when my cock tried to burrow up through the laptop.
Whoa, this third picture very nearly made me cum. Sophie was still prone, but her back was now arched, pushing her pussy up almost level with her feet. Elbows tight to her hips, the fingers of each hand held her pink pussy lips wide apart to reveal a distended and swollen clit. It appeared as if she'd been frigging it mercilessly, that sopping wet had her cunt become. I found myself panting with desire.
Hearing the telephone conversation come to an abrupt end, quickly I restored the original picture, trying to act as natural as possible despite the throbbing cock in my boxers. Returning to my side, Sophie lifted up the laptop clear, in turn bringing welcome relief to my crushed appendage. Closing down and signing out, she sniffed pointedly at the air around me. "Poo Steven, you're going to need to freshen up a bit before my friends arrive."
Her eyes lingered longer than was natural on my crotch, the outline of the unrelenting hard-on freely visible. "It's not my fault," I protested. "You try showering or bathing with this plaster on."
Now there was a thought to take to the grave – Sophie and I in the shower. I ached with lust as she turned on her heels. I heard a tap running, wondering what she had in mind. Returning five minutes later with a bowl of steaming water, some towels, a flannel and a bar of soap, she placed one of the towels at my feet. Hand linking in mine, she helped to shuffle from the couch as I did my best to cover the pipe inside the boxer shorts. "Okay mister, take off that stinky t-shirt."
I hesitated, suddenly reticent.
