Helping Sis Pick A Dress

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Chapter Three

This time I didn't try to avoid Mom when she got home from class. I hugged her and asked her how it went. She was taking algebra, because she hadn't taken it in high school. I'd already had it, so I helped her with her homework when she got stuck. She was pretty smart, though, so I didn't have to help very often. Usually she just had me check her work. I told her Cathy was out with Bruce and she asked me what kind of boy he was.

"Harmless," I said.

"You're not just telling me that to ease my mind, are you?" she asked.

"If I knew she was going out with a wolf I'd talk to him first," I said.

"Really?"

"It won't happen very often. You won't let her go out with juniors or seniors. They're the only ones she'd really need to worry about."

"Like you?" Mom arched one eyebrow.

"I'm one of the good guys," I said.

"I hope so, Bobby," she said. "I hope you treat girls with respect."

"Of course," I said.

"And you never do anything against their will, right?"

"Mom, come on. If I did that, they wouldn't go out with me again."

"I know boys have urges, Bobby, especially when they get to your age."

I almost asked her if she was going to have the same talk with me that she had with Cathy, but then she'd know that I knew about her talk with Cathy, and I was pretty sure Cathy didn't want that.

"I'm handling my urges just fine," I said.

"Good. A lot of parents think masturbation is wrong, but not your father and me," she said.

You could have knocked me over with a feather! My mother ... my plain, old, forty-something-year-old mother ... had just said she didn't mind if I jacked off!

"Uh ... thanks?" I croaked.

"Now I'm all embarrassed," she said. "Go away and let me get these dishes done."

I knew she was flustered. She was referring to the dishes from the supper Cathy and I had eaten. Dishes was one of our chores, and we usually got yelled at if the kitchen wasn't spotless when she got home. The dishes had been abandoned so I could get naked with my sister.

I didn't tell Mom that, of course.


I didn't "wait up" for Cathy with Mom. Instead, I lay on my bed and read. I actually fell asleep, and was jolted out of that by my sister's sharp fingernail in my ribs.

"Get up. Come to my room," she whispered.

I stumbled after her, a little groggy. She was still dressed in the outfit I hadn't chosen for her. It was more conservative than the one she'd worn to feel sexy in with Dennis. It was what I'd call a summer dress, with two inch wide straps over the shoulders and no cleavage at all. It was flowered. She had on sandals.

"How do I look?" she asked, once her door was closed.

"You look good," I said.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Mom was probably happier with that," I offered.

"She was. Now, I want you to just look at me."

She struck, a somewhat awkward pose, awkward because it was a pose, and then twirled slowly. She smoothed the dress over her hips and arched her chest.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Do I look sexy?"

"I already told you, you look sexy," I said.

"Are you hard?"

I wasn't. She'd just wakened me. My brain still wanted to be asleep. I looked down.

"Can't you tell?" I asked, looking at the front of my briefs.

"Why aren't you hard?" she complained.

"Give me a second," I said. "I don't spring to full hard-on every time you walk into the room."

"Don't be mean to me," she said.

"Look," I said. "It's late. Just tell me what you want."

"I want you to be hard," she said.

"If you take off that dress I'll be hard," I said.

"So this dress isn't sexy," she said.

"Sit down," I said.

I pointed at her bed and she perched on the edge. I sat beside her.

"Okay, here's how this sexy clothing business works," I said. "The girl gets dressed in something sexy, which makes the man want to take it off of her. The sexier the clothing, the less time she wears it. That's if the guy has his way. So, when I look at you in that dress, what I think of is that it's covering up what I know is a killer great body and since I wish I could see it, I want you to take the dress off. Does that make sense?"

"Then it doesn't matter what I wear," she complained.

"In one sense, that's true," I admitted.

"Then what's the point in spending all that money if you only get to wear it ten minutes?"

"Five minutes," I said, but I grinned. Before she could complain again, I went on. "A sexy outfit gets the guy going. And since you have to date lots of different guys, it also makes lots of different guys want to take you out. So that kind of sexy clothing you get to wear for a long time. It's the sexy lingerie you only get to show him for five minutes."

"I donít have any sexy lingerie," she said. "I donít have anybody to show it to, so I don't spend money on it."

"Sure you do," I said. "Your baby dolls are gorgeous. They make me want to get you naked the minute I see you in them."

"Really?"

"Sexy as all get-out," I said.

"Stay there and close your eyes," she said.

"Cathy," I groaned.

"Just do it, Bobby," she snapped.

So I sat there with my hands over my eyes while I listened to the rustle of clothing that meant she was getting undressed. I thought it was odd that, suddenly, she was shy, but I went with it. Maybe four or five minutes went by and then she said, "Okay, you can look."

She had put on her baby dolls. This time she had the jacket on, but left the bra off.

"Is this sexy?" she asked.

I felt my bone stiffen and stood up. I pushed the waistband of my shorts below my balls and let her watch it go from a sagging, three/quarters hard-on to full anti-aircraft mode.

She seemed to float over to me and stood close enough that I could feel her body heat.

"Crystal said she loved learning to kiss with her brother."

"You already know how to kiss," I said.

"I got horny with Bruce tonight," she said, leaning even closer.

"Did you let him do anything?" I rasped.

She shrugged off the jacket and took a mini step forward. I felt the tips of her breasts burn my skin.

"No. I saved it for you."

My hands moved as if somebody else was controlling them. They slid up her sides and covered both her breasts. I could feel her hard nipples push into my palms. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Mmmmm," was all she said.

Part of my brain reminded me she'd referenced how much Crystal liked kissing her brother.

So I abandoned her breasts and slid my hands inside her panties to cup her firm butt while I kissed my sister.


You know that saying: Time flies when you're having fun?

Well, not only does time fly when you're having fun, your brain can go on "pause" while time is flying.

I have no idea how long it was between the first time our lips touched, to the moment when I regained consciousness.† When I did regain consciousness, we were both stark naked, lying on her bed, and I was lying on top of her with the most delicious heat surrounding my penis that I'd ever felt. It took a few very jarring seconds for the realization to sink in that I was fucking my sister. It was unbelievable, because I couldn't remember starting to fuck my sister. Then the next thing that registered was that my sister was not unhappy that I was doing this, because her arms were wrapped around me and her heels were firmly on the bed beside my hips and her hips were lurching upwards with more strength than I'd have thought she had in her.

She was making nonsense sounds, some gurgles and moans and just noises, that seemed to be in time with my thrusts. In the very few seconds before I was lost again, I was a little astonished that I knew how to do this, but my prick was slicing in and out of her like I'd done this a hundred times.

Then her voice stopped making nonsense sounds and she started panting, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh mommeeeeeee," and it was just obvious she was cumming. I don't know whether it was the knowledge that my cock was making her cum, or her fingernails puncturing my back, but one of the two flipped a switch in my balls and they upchucked. This might be the first time I had fucked, but I'd watched myself cum countless times, and my mind supplied images of milky white spurts exiting the tip of my penis, flooding her hot pussy. I did not feel shame. I did not feel remorse. I did not feel perverted.

What I felt was ... elated.

Later I would feel all those negative emotions, but at the moment I inseminated my little sister, nothing in the world could have felt better, or more right.

Cathy wasn't nearly as ambivalent about things.

As we both collapsed, just breathing, her hands kept moving all over me. Maybe a minute later she started kissing whatever her lips could find to touch. Some of that remorse was starting to creep in, so I didn't kiss her back until her hands came to grip my head and make me face her. She kissed me five or six times, and then breathed, "Thank you," into my mouth.

By this time I was imagining millions of little sperm cells, all of which had my face, dolphin kicking their way into her uterus, sniffing for an egg. Just to show you how surreal this was, my imagination kept going until I saw one sperm cell sprout arms and a penis as it reached her egg. For some reason in my imagination, her egg looked like a baby blue Robin's egg. Hands at the ends of the arms gripped the sides of the egg, and the penis fucked a hole right into the shell. My face, on that sperm cell, was grinning maniacally.

"How soon before you can go again?" whispered my sister. Her pussy suddenly squeezed, and my penis got pushed out of her. "Oooooo," she complained.

"You're insane," I whispered.

"No I'm not," she said.

"I just got you pregnant," I moaned.

"No you didn't," she said.

That sperm cell in my imagination was now doing a victory dance, like it had just scored the game-winning touchdown.

"Yes I did," I groaned.

"No ... you didn't," she said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I just started my period while we were doing that. I can tell."

Have you ever seen one of those videos where a cat gets startled and jumps straight up in the air? I might have done that. I landed on my knees and looked down at my penis. It was tinted a little red, and my pubic hair was also wetly reddish.

"Ewwww," I whined, like a girl.

"Get up. I don't want the covers to get stained," she said.

I got off the bed and stood with my hands out. I didn't want to contaminate them by touching my bloody penis.

Okay, it wasn't bloody. Not really. If she hadn't told me what had just happened while I was trying to fuck her brains out, I would have erroneously thought I had ruptured her hymen, maybe. A girl bled when her cherry got picked, right? She was busy in her bathroom and I was still standing there, paralyzed when she came back out. I was freaked out, but I still noticed the little white string that now protruded from between her pussy lips. I'd heard of this. I had never seen it, of course, but I recognized it instantly.

She had a wash cloth in her hand and came to me. Apparently my practically comatose nature didn't surprise her. She bent over and cleaned me up with the wash cloth and went back to the bathroom. My paralysis dissolved, but I still didn't know what to do. I was really freaked out.

She came back and walked up to me and hugged me, pressing her hot breasts against my chest.

"I'm sorry. I knew I was close, but I didn't know doing that would make me start."

"Ewww," I said again.

"It's just blood, you dork," she said, bumping her loins against mine. "It happens every month."

"I know that," I wheezed. "But geez."

"Actually, this is the first time I didn't cramp when it started. Bonus, huh?"

"Cathy!" I groaned. "You can't talk about this stuff!"

"Bobby, we just had sex. I'm not a virgin anymore. I can't wait until we do it again. We can talk about anything!"

The little sperm cell in my imagination suddenly plopped down and each of its eyes became an x. It was dead, and it had not succeeded in impregnating her egg. A great weight was lifted from my shoulders, while at the same time I felt like a perverted rapist. There was no way in the world she had consented to what had just happened. I hadn't even asked. I couldn't remember how it happened, but I knew I hadn't said anything at all, much less politely asked if I could insert my penis in her vagina.

"I raped you," I whispered.

She punched me. She got me between the bony part of my shoulder and my left pec, and it hurt. I staggered back a foot.

"Don't you say that!" she hissed.

"I didn't ask," I said, rubbing my chest.

"You didn't have to. I wanted every bit of that."

I blinked. Something on my face caught her attention.

"What?" she asked.

I blinked some more. I was finally beginning to come to grips with what had happened.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"Don't do that, Bobby!" she complained. "Something beautiful just happened. Don't close up on me."

"Beautiful for you," I said.

I saw the hurt on her face instantly, and my heart cracked.

"No!" I said. "That's not what I meant."

There were already tears in her eyes, but she was more patient with me than I would have imagined.

"What did you mean?" she asked.

"It happened so fast. I think I kind of lost my mind for a while. I can't remember most of it."

"Don't be a dick, Bobby," she said. Now I sensed anger in her voice.

"I loved it!" said the perverted part of me. "It's just that I can't remember the details. Like I said, I think maybe I went a little crazy."

"I'll say," she said.

I covered my eyes.

"Cathy," I moaned. "I think the male part of me just went on autopilot. That's not how I want to treat a woman."

"Thank you," she said.

"Thank you?" I goggled. "For what?"

"For calling me a woman."

We might have just engaged in patently adult behavior ... but my sister was still only fifteen.

"So how soon before it will get hard again?" she asked.


I had never heard of menstrual sex before. I'm pretty sure none of my friends had, either. That's the kind of thing that would come up on conversation between a bunch of guys, if only to try to gross each other out. I suppose it's easier for a woman to contemplate that, since she's used to that kind of ... condition ... being present on a regular basis. And if you think about it, what a woman does after using a tampon is really no different than a guy going to the bathroom.† You do your business and you wash your hands. Girls can piss without even touching their skin and when they wipe, they still don't touch anything, and even so, they wash their hands after that anyway.

Anyway, after I told my sister I needed some time to think, and left her room that night, when I got up the next day I did some internet research. You'll think I'm a little strange, in that the incest angle didn't bother me as much as having my penis in a menstruating vagina, but that's how it was. The power of the internet is exemplified, though, when I tell you what I learned about menstrual sex got rid of my heeby jeebies about the issue. Lots of people recommend it. I mean lots, way more than just some weirdoes. I'm talking doctors and that kind of thing.

So, anyway, I went to find Cathy after I got cured of my phobia of her menses. She wasn't in the house, and there was no note saying where she'd gone. I knew she was upset, because I had left her room so abruptly, and I really wanted to talk to her about it.

It may sound strange, but I felt helpless. I couldn't talk to Cathy. I didn't feel like doing anything. I didn't want to be around any of my friends. I didn't have any lawns to mow. I just sat there. But I wasn't bored. Nope. No way.

So, basically, I just sat there and thought about things.

I had fucked my sister. If that wasn't bad enough, I wanted to do it again. And if that wasn't bad enough, I had thoughtlessly spurted her full of my sperm. Sure, that sperm wasn't going to get her pregnant. Not that sperm. But I did want to do it again. And not just one more time, either. Not to minimize the importance of this, it was like the first time you talk to a girl you've never talked to before. After you "break the ice" you feel like now you can talk to her again, maybe every day. Her status has changed completely, and now there are lots more possibilities. You just naturally imagine yourself doing things with her, like eating lunch, or getting a coke.

I had broken a lot more than "the ice" with Cathy, and now my mind was overwhelmed with fantasies of sleeping with her all night, and waking up with her and making love before breakfast. I imagined taking showers with her and oral sex in the shower. I imagined oral sex outside the shower. I kept having this sort of out-of-body experience where I was floating in the air, watching my skinny hips between her soft thighs, pumping ... pumping ... pumping, while her arms and legs wrapped around me like some parasite in a science fiction movie.

It got so bad that I started thinking there was something seriously wrong with me, like maybe I was a serial killer who just hadn't killed anybody, yet.

I was trying to figure out what kind of person I would serially kill and the only thing I could think of was any guy who dated Cathy and laid a finger on her, when she skipped into the house singing a song at the top of her lungs. She was dancing, whirling in circles, unaware I was watching her. She had ear buds in and the only thing that was real for her in that moment was the song. Then she saw me, sitting there, splayed out in the easy chair like a heroin addict who had just shot up and was on the nod.

She stopped and stared at me. I didn't know I'd been crying and my cheeks made that obvious. She pulled the wires and the ear buds fell to dangle from her hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

She looked watery, which was when I realized I'd been bawling like a little girl. I wiped my eyes with my fists.

"I fucked you!" I yelled.

She looked around and came toward me.

"Tell the whole town, why don't you!" she hissed.

I just stared at her.

She stared back for a few seconds and then grabbed my hand.

"Come with me," she said.

She pulled with surprising strength and I stood up. She pulled me, rather violently, if you ask me, to her bedroom and pushed me to sit on her bed. She stood in front of me and stared at me some more.

"Look," said my fifteen-and-a-half-year-old-sister. "What happened last night was an accident, okay? It was my fault, because I wouldn't leave you alone."

"It wasn't your fault!" I gasped.

"Shut up," she said, quite calmly. "Just shut up and let me talk."

I opened my mouth and she reached to put two fingers over it.

"Shut up, Bobby," she warned. "I know where your balls are and I'll squash them if you keep trying to talk. You'll get your turn."

I closed my mouth, but it was more because of the shock of how her fingers felt, touching me, than her assertiveness. Just the touch of her fingers on my lips reached deep inside me, somehow, and made me want to wiggle like a happy puppy. It was fucking crazy!

"We had sex," she said. "You didn't hurt me. I'm not scarred for life. I don't hate you. I know all those things are true. What I can't explain is how you did make me feel. Bobby, nothing like that has ever happened to me. I mean I never felt anything like that. It was perfect. That's the only word I can think of for it. And then you got all freaked out because my period started and you didn't ruin it all, but you really pissed me off because you were being so stupid."

"I know," I said, before she could shush me. "I was stupid about it."

She leaned toward me and I zipped my mouth and threw away the key. She leaned back.

"I love you," she said. "I love what happened. I never felt that special, or powerful, or something. And if you keep acting all weird about it, you're going to ruin it, and I don't want you to ruin it because I'll hate you if you do, and I don't want to hate you right now, Bobby!"

She stopped and just looked at me. I hadn't been given permission to speak, so I just looked back at her. Maybe a minute went by.

"I can't think of anything else," she said.

I kept looking.

"You can talk, now," she said. Then she held up a finger. "But don't get all weird and preachy on me, because I don't want to hear it."

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