I've learned some amazing things about my mom and my sister, and even myself, over the past few weeks. Having given their nymphomania free rein, Carol and Mom are happily exploring their sexuality, both with me and each other. They've begun teasing me (and possibly each other) by wearing frilly lingerie and nightgowns around the house every evening, creating a good-natured competition to see which one of them can be the most seductive.
Since I can see either one of them nude anytime I want, they wear things that are more suggestive than simply revealing. Carol has adopted Mom's philosophy that lingerie should leave something to the imagination. Bras, panties, garters, bustiers, babydolls, nightgowns, even their street clothes are meant to pique my interest rather than assault my eyes. They both have long, lean legs which they flaunt and accentuate by frequently wearing stockings, short skirts and high heels.
They're both adventuresome and like to experiment with different scenarios; not silly role-playing, countess-and-the-stablehand games but more sophisticated fantasy games. For example, I'd have never guessed my little sister occasionally likes to play rough.
She surprised me the first time she straddled my lap wearing a t-shirt with a notch cut into the collar. It wasn't the usual sort of thing she wore around the house. I was already getting used to seeing her and mom in sheer nylon, lace and satin.
I was sitting on the couch with my feet on the coffee table staring blankly at the TV when she came downstairs and threw one of her legs over mine.
She was in her little girl persona; no makeup, lush, blonde hair in pigtails. A light dusting of baby powder made her smell fresh and innocent. She likes to tease me by acting as if she doesn't know she how enticing she is.
Her eyes sparkled as she knee-walked her way to my crotch. It was late afternoon and the sun was giving the room a hazy glow. We'd fucked that morning before school and I was almost dozing when she climbed on me.
"What happened to your shirt?" I asked as I slid my hands up and down her smooth thighs with a sleepy grin. She raised the hem to her waist exposing the lacy panties she was wearing. I saw there was another notch at the bottom of the shirt. They'd clearly been cut with scissors.
"It's just an old shirt," she breathed, leaning in to kiss me. She ran her tongue across my lips before moving it to my ear. "I don't mind if it gets torn," she whispered. She nipped my earlobe as she ground her pussy against my rising cock. Her tongue darted into my ear and I could feel her warm breath on my neck. I almost shivered at her seductiveness.
I could tell the shirt wasn't old. It still had creases in it from where it had been folded in the package. I suspected she'd bought a pack of three and the other two
were somewhere in her room.
She squirmed against me as I slid my hands under the shirt and caressed her naked tits. Her nipples sprang up under my fingers. "Ooh," she purred as I tweaked them. She moved her hands to my hair and began stroking it. I pulled my hands from under the shirt and moved them to the collar.
"You're sure you don't mind if this gets torn?" I asked, suspecting what she wanted.
"No," she whispered, sliding her moist tongue around my ear. "The panties are old too." She gasped as I began to pull the fabric apart. It was then that I realized she'd notched the reinforced collar and hem to make the oversized shirt easier to tear.
The material began to give way with a sharp ripping noise. I could feel her cunt spasm. "Do it," she breathed. "Tear it off me, Robbie. Tear my clothes off and fuck me like an animal."
She sat up as I jerked at the shirt, tearing it to just below her heaving tits. Her breathing was already becoming rapid. Her nipples were so hard they looked like cherry pits. "Oh, God," she gasped.
I'd never do anything to hurt Carol but I could see that my rough handling was exciting her so I upped the ante. Instead of pulling the fabric apart, I pulled it away from her body, making her lunge forward. She leaned backwards causing the cloth to pull away from her quivering body. Her firm 36-C tits were soon completely exposed.
"Rip it, Robbie," she groaned. "Treat me like a slut. Tear my clothes off and fuck me like a whore, baby. Fuck me like the slut I am." She was bucking against my cock as I grabbed the bottom of the shirt and tore it open the rest of the way. It hung on her in rags as she gasped for breath.
"Oh, God yes," she groaned, moving her hands to her tits. She pinched her nipples viciously. "I'm your slut, baby. Take me. Use me, Robbie."
I took the hem in my hands and began pulling it apart. I made sure I pulled my shivering little sister first one way and then the other. I gave her the rough treatment she wanted while being sure not to let things get out of hand. I didn't want her bruised at the end of our play. I have to admit a certain lustful thrill at treating her like a ragdoll.
She grunted and gasped as she slid off my lap onto the couch. Her shirt was in rags with only a thin strip of material across her taut stomach holding it in place. Her lacy panties were clearly soaked. I climbed up on my knees, my cock throbbing and hooked my fingers under the waistband.
"Cut them off," Carol gasped, flailing one arm in the direction of the coffee table. I hadn't noticed the pair of blunt-nosed scissors there until then. She must have planned this scene carefully to have them in place for just this moment.
I leered at her as I reached for them. She was panting, a wild look in her eyes. She looked so vulnerable with her scant covering in tatters. Her pigtails had fallen and her thick, blonde hair was tossled from my mock assault. Her tits heaved as she gasped for breath. It wasn't exactly a rape fantasy since she wasn't resisting me. It was more of a domination scenario. Carol made it clear she wanted to be treated like a submissive slut. She apparently wanted to be manhandled. I was excited to be playing the role of tormentor.
I pressed the cold steel of the scissors against her quivering thigh, causing her to gasp and bite her lip. Moving slowly, I slid them up her leg and under the waistband of her panties. I was very careful to make sure I didn't scratch her. Her eyes flashed and she was gasping for breath. I slowly snipped the waistband on one side causing it to snap. Her panties now hung by only the thin strip of elastic around her other luscious hip. I made a show of dragging the scissors across her lower abdomen, only inches from her bald and oozing pussy. She groaned as the steel slid across her skin. I could see goosebumps.
I slid the scissors under the waistband, ready to cut the final thread holding her panties in place and then hesitated.
