Kiss Your Sister

by Lubrican

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

Chapter One

Life can take sudden changes in direction without warning. That's what happened to me one night as my sister and I were watching a movie in the 'romantic comedy' genre.

We watch a lot of movies on Netflix. That's because my dad bought an old farm house because it was cheap. He didn't buy the whole farm, just the house, on a couple of acres of land, and we live eighteen miles from town. We, in this case, is my mom and dad, and me and my sister, Emma. My dad is an engineer, and he goes from project to project, all over the US, so he's gone a lot. My mom is a nurse and works at the hospital in town. Dad had this idea that, if we owned our own acre or two, he could build our dream house. He's working on that, and that's great, but it will still be eighteen miles from town, you know?

Life in the wilderness for two teenagers isn't what I'd call stimulating. I know it isn't really a "wilderness" but it might as well be. I'm older than Emma by a year, but I'm not sixteen yet, so I can't get my driver's license yet. That means when both parents are gone, we are more or less trapped out in the country. Hence all the movies.

Before we came here, we lived in Korea, where Dad was working on a big project that took four years. We lived in an apartment like anybody else, and there was an American school there we went to school at. Most of the other kids' parents were military, and they came and went, so we never really had close friends. What I learned in Korea is that the Korean culture and American cultures are so different it's hard to make close friends that way, too. The language barrier is hard, too.

It was good to be back where people spoke English, but we were still isolated. Since Emma and I were used to that, it wasn't as terrible as other people might have thought of it.

So, anyway, we were watching this movie and a kissing scene came on. It was a close-up and it looked like they were eating each other's lips or something.

Emma sighed, "I wonder what that feels like."

"You don't know?"

She glanced at me.

"Of course not. I've never kissed anybody. You probably haven't, either."

"I kissed a girl in Korea," I shot back.

"Oh really? Who?"

"Nancy Wilson," I said, proudly. "It was at the Harvest Dance. We were in a dark corner where the teachers couldn't see us and I kissed her."

"Big whoop," said my sister. "One kiss that lasted all of three seconds."

"Still, it was a kiss," I said. "You've really never kissed a boy?"

"When would I do that?" she asked. "I can't go on dates. I didn't go to the Harvest Dance because I wasn't in high school, yet."

"Why does it matter?" I asked. "It's not like there are guys lining up to kiss you now."

"Maybe they will line up to kiss me some day!" she shot back. "It would be nice if I didn't make a fool of myself when that happens."

"Watch and learn," I said. I stopped the movie and rewound it. The face-eating kiss happened again.

"They're just opening and closing their mouths," she said. "It's like they're going 'Ya, ya, ya' while the camera moves in on them."

"Maybe they are," I said.

That was it for that night. I didn't really think about it. I wasn't allowed to date yet, either, and wouldn't be until I was sixteen and a half and had at least straight Bs in school. That eventuality was at least eight months in the future, assuming I could make the grades.

Three days later, when we got on the bus to ride home, my sister plopped down beside me.

"I tried to kiss John Evert under the stairwell today."

I looked at her.

"How'd that go?"

"He said my braces would probably rip his lips to shreds and he'd bleed to death." She frowned. "I hate my braces."

"I don't see how they could rip his lips to shreds if they don't rip your lips to shreds," I said. "Maybe I'm just used to them, but when you don't smile I can't even tell you have them."

"I'll never learn to kiss," she complained. "I'll have these stupid braces for two more years."

"I'm sure Dad would say you don't need to learn to kiss for at least two more years," I said.

She elbowed me.

We rode home and I didn't think any more about Emma and her kissing issues.

A week after that, again on the bus home, she leaned against me and said, under her voice, "I kissed Roger Sills today."

"You're really worked up about this kissing business, aren't you?" I said.

"Well?" she replied, as if it should be obvious that it was important business indeed, and anyone with a brain would recognize that.

"So," I sighed. "How'd it go?"

"I suspect it was like when you kissed what's-her-name at the Harvest Dance."

"That bad, huh?"

"It was awful. I'm pretty sure he'll never want to kiss me again."

"And you want to kiss him again?"

"I want to kiss somebody again," she moaned.

That night, when we gathered to watch TV again, my sister was in her pajamas. They were actual pajamas, with a button-up top and long pants. They were Korean, made of soft flannel, and they were the knockoff version of Hello Kitty. Hello Kitty is Japanese, and Koreans still hate the Japanese from World War Two, so if the Japanese come up with something that will sell, the Koreans copy it and make it their own.

Anyway, when Emma walked in and plopped down, I happened to be watching her chest. It wasn't on purpose, or anything. That's just where my eyes decided to look. Her boobs bounced under the flannel and I had this sudden epiphany that my little (girl) sister was all grown up! She had boobs! And they weren't just little swells that a training bra could tame. They were big enough to shake and shimmy when she moved.

I assumed she wasn't wearing a bra. If I was a girl, I wouldn't wear a bra unless somebody forced me to, and certainly not to bed. But I'm not a girl, so maybe I don't get it.

Dad was gone on a trip and Mom was at work, so it was just Emma and me again. Those breasts were kind of fascinating, once I noticed them. In fact, Emma, herself, was kind of fascinating, once I noticed that she was a young woman, and not just a girl anymore.

"What?" came her voice.

I jerked as I realized I'd been staring at her.

"Sorry," I said. "I just noticed you're kind of growing up and I was surprised."

"What are you talking about? Of course I'm growing up. What does that mean?"

I was flustered. I don't know why I was flustered, but I blurted something that, had I not been flustered, I'm sure I wouldn't have blurted.

"Tits!" I blurted. "You have tits!"

"Bobby!" she said, censure heavy in her voice. "They're called breasts, not tits, and I've had them for years."

"Of course," I said. "Sorry." I didn't want to continue this conversation.

"Why were you looking at my breasts?" she asked. She did want to continue the conversation for some reason.

"I just happened to be looking at them when you sat down, and they bounced around," I said. That sounded like a reasonable explanation to me.

"You happened to be staring at my boobs when I sat down?"

"They're breasts, not boobs," I said.

"Not the same thing at all," she said. "Why were you staring at my boobs when I sat down?"

"I wasn't staring at them," I groaned. "I happened to be looking at them just as you sat down. They bobbed around under your PJs and it made me think of something, that's all."

"What did it make you think of?" She would not let this die.

"It made me wonder if you were wearing a bra or not, and then I thought probably not, because if I was a girl I'd never wear one unless somebody made me and certainly not to bed. That's exactly what I thought, okay?"

"Breasts need support," she said. "That's what bras are for. If you don't wear a bra, your breasts hurt and that's no fun."

"Do they hurt in bed at night?" I asked, acidly.

"No, of course not. I don't wear a bra to bed."

"Well, there you go," I said. "You aren't wearing a bra and your boobs bounced around when you sat down and I happened to notice it. That's all it was. Don't make a federal case out of it!"

"I'm not making a federal case out of it. You were staring at me and I wondered why, so I asked. That's all I did." She grinned. "I get it. I've watched you running on the treadmill and your junk flops all over the place." She grinned some more.

I made a mental note to wear my jockeys under my running shorts from now on. I normally don't wear underwear. It's just one more layer I have to get through before I can pee and I read an article that said guys who wear tight underwear have lower sperm counts. So I don't usually wear anything under my running shorts. We all used the treadmill for exercise if it was too cold to go outside.

I let it drop and turned the TV on.

"Let's watch another movie with kissing in it," said my sister. "I want to study it some more."

"If you want to study it, you need to do it," I teased. I knew she didn't have any options to do "homework" on this subject. It was mean, but I was miffed at her.

"Who am I going to do it with?" she asked. "You?"

"Yeah, right," I laughed. "I can just see that. We'd end up puking instead of kissing."

"Maybe," she said. She was distracted, clicking through the offerings on Netflix. "What's this?" she asked.

There was a picture of some Asians on the thumbnail. It was called Cinderella and the Four Knights. She clicked on it to show the synopsis.

"It's Korean," she said.

When we were in Korea my mother had watched some Korean dramas, which is what they call them instead of soap operas. On Netflix they had English subtitles, which you had to have to know what was going on. Unless you could understand Hanguk-eo, which is what they speak over there. She thought they were fun because the translations were obviously off a bit. For example, an actor would ask a question, which got translated normally. Then another actor would go "Humph," just one syllable, but the translation would be something like "I don't think so" or "I didn't ask him because I didn't think it was important." Then there would be these long set of spoken lines and the translation would be "No" or "Thank you." Mom had tried harder than the rest of us to learn Hangul, but the subtitles weren't that much help. I did learn ten ways to say "Thank you," though each one had to be said in just the right context. When Mom watched, it was inevitable that we watched some of it, too. It wasn't much help to me, either.

"Let's see if Koreans kiss," she said.

She clicked on it and started fast forwarding through. I gathered, from the snatches of subtitles I saw, that it was about four guys who all had the same father, but different mothers. They were rich heirs, which is a pretty common plot for Korean soap operas. The girl came from a family where she was the outcast, hence the Cinderella reference. The guys didn't like each other but all four of them were involved with the girl, somehow. Emma was going too fast for me to really get what was going on, but it looked like this girl ended up living with the four heirs in a modern mansion for some reason. She was really cute and I resolved to watch the whole thing, later, just so I could see more of her. Anyway, it got to a kissing sequence and Emma stopped it, backed it up, and played it in normal time.

All they did was touch lips. I mean they literally just put their lips barely together, and then just froze. They didn't even pucker. No face-eating here.

"I could do that much," said Emma.

There were a few more kissing sequences, but they were all really tame in the same way. She clicked away from that movie, which annoyed me, because the Korean girl in that one was hot, hot, hot! Emma found an American movie that had a hot girl in it, too, so I didn't care.

The kissing in that one was hot.

We were both teens, and teens have overflows of hormones. That is what I blame for what happened next.

My sister looked over at me and said, "Maybe we should try it together. I mean what could it hurt?"


What amazed me was that the idea of kissing my sister didn't seem so ... stomach-turning ... after all. That's those hormones I was talking about.

"Like you said, at its worst, we'll just throw up."

We stood up, facing each other awkwardly. I admit I was very aware she was naked under her pajamas. At least I thought she was. I put my hands on her waist and she put hers on my shoulders. We leaned in and brushed lips. Her eyes were closed. I know this because mine were open.

We leaned away and she opened her eyes.

"That seemed like a Korean kiss," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Maybe if we hug tighter," she said.

She slid her hands behind me and pulled me against her. Her soft breasts crushed against my chest and, somehow, my hands ended up on her butt. The kiss lasted fifteen seconds or so, and this time, my eyes were closed. I took a deep breath through my nose as she stepped back. My hands slid past her hips to hang at my sides.

Her smile was contagious. "Not bad at all! What did you think? Were my braces awful?"

I smiled my agreement and said, quite truthfully, that I hadn't even noticed her braces. I did not tell her it had caused my penis to start getting thick.

"Yeah, that was a lot better than the first," she said. "Definitely better."

Two days later after we got home from school Emma invited me to go back to kissing lessons.

We stood facing each other then I put my hands on her cheeks and pulled her close, like one of the kisses we'd seen on the movie. Her lips parted slightly just as our mouths met. I moved my hands to her hair and she held my waist. We didn't hold our bodies against each other, this time, but the kiss was a whole lot longer and better than what we had done before.

When I pulled away from her, her eyes were bright as she critiqued "I think we are doing better." I didn't answer her, I just put my mouth on her again and held her a little closer as my lips slipped on hers. We kissed maybe 30 seconds, the longest yet then I let her go. Emma licked her lips, then ran the tip of her tongue across the rack covering her teeth.

"How do my braces feel?" she asked.

"I don't remember," I said. "I don't really notice them when we kiss."

"Good." She smiled. "Now, kiss me again, and this time do it like you're not my brother."

I put my hands on her waist and my mouth on hers. We started out with pursed lips, which squashed, and then slid them across each other's. Finally she flicked her tongue out and touched my lips with the tip.

She pulled back and laughed. "Ha! Much better." She raised one eyebrow. "Kissing you doesn't make me want to puke at all! Who knew?"

She wasn't finished. We played at French kissing, without getting into it hot and heavy. After doing more kissing that started to feel like we were making out, we stopped. We had learned to kiss, we were ready for other boys and girls. I don't know what she felt when we were doing it but there at the last, I got sort of turned on. My prick got heavy and my nuts tickled while I held her but I sure as hell didn't tell her that. One thing I notice for sure, though. When a girl has on a bra, her boobs feel different pressed against you than when she doesn't. I mean you can't help but feel it. I didn't notice her braces at all, but I sure noticed the firmness that bra caused.

Emma's social life included sleepovers, which guys just don't do all that much. One Saturday morning, after she got home from a sleepover she came to my room and happily announced she had kissed two boys the night before.

"Two? Who?"

"Shawna's brothers, Bren and Charlie," she announced, proudly.

Bren was my age, but Charlie was probably only thirteen.

"We played truth or dare. Shawna dared all of us to kiss them. I think they were in on it, but the rest of us didn't care. I think the others wanted to practice kissing, too."

"What was it like?" I asked.

"It was so cool that I had practiced with you. Both of them said I am a good kisser." She was beaming her pride, "I didn't even remember I have braces and that didn't stop either of them."

"Guys don't have sleepovers, and even if we did, their sisters wouldn't line up to kiss a bunch of guys," I said.

"Let me show you how we did it, maybe if you get better and kiss a girl, she will like it and want to do it more. I know I did." I was sitting on the edge of my bed so she moved to me then sat on my lap, put her arms around my neck and said, "This is how Bren and I did it." She bent her head then put her lips on mine. She had licked her lips so they were moist so she moved her head making her mouth slip back and forth on mine. Her nose was bumping mine and she wrapped her arms around me tight. She was really kissing me like a boyfriend which made me kiss her back just as hard. When she pulled her head back she was grinning a mile wide, her eyes were laughing.

"How was that?"

Her weight on my legs started to get heavy so I laid back on my bed pulling her down with me. Emma and I moved around so we were lying face to face while we talked. "You kissed Bren like that? You sat on his lap and did it? How about Charlie?"

"Yeah, I sat on Bren's legs when we did it. Actually, Charlie kissed better than Bren. Later that night Charlie and I sat on the sofa and made out a little."

"Made out?"

"You know, we kissed some more."

"In front of the other guys?"

"Nobody was watching us."

"But he's like thirteen or something, isn't he?"

"I can't be picky. Plus he's a really good kisser. He even ..." She didn't finish.

I watched my sister's cheeks turn pink as she hinted she may have done more than necking.

"What did he do?" I asked, feeling tight in my chest.

"It was probably nothing. I mean we were kissing and I felt his hand on my bra but maybe it was accidental. I think. He didn't grab me or push on it but kind of moved his hand across it when he shifted for a better kissing position."

Crap! Emma was a year younger than me and she was learning a lot faster than me about boy and girl stuff.

"I never felt up a girl."

"Of course not," she sniffed. "If you can't kiss a girl, you can't feel her up."

I rested my head on the bed and looked at my younger sister. Emma's confidence, just from kissing two boys, was visibly up.  She was already pretty, and she smelled good. I was painfully aware of her gender as we lay there.

"I don't like the idea of guys feeling you up," I said.

"Awww, are you jealous?" she teased.

"No. It just makes me mad to think about some boy pawing you."

"He didn't paw me," she laughed. "Like I said, it was probably an accident."

I put my hand on her shoulder and pulled her close enough to put my lips on hers. The brother sister connection broke down and I started necking with Emma. She wasn't reluctant to kiss me back so we made out like lovers for a minute or so. She pulled her head back, said "That was nice," then put her mouth over mine again. I kind of moved closer and we put our arms around each other so we were touching on the legs and her breasts were pressed on my chest. We broke apart again, but only to take a breath, then she mashed her mouth on mine. I don't know what she was feeling but I was starting to react to the hot girl in my arms. My prick got hard. I scooted my loins away from hers to keep her from feeling it, but I enjoyed the feeling of what being close to her was doing to me.

Again, we stopped for air, then after a quick couple of breaths she rolled to her back and pulled on my shoulder to face to her. I was lying on my side with my chest on her tits then she put her hand on my neck and pulled me into more necking. I wrapped my arms around her, one under her back, the other around her waist and held tight while we kissed. Her lips were getting softer, warmer, and my cock was stone hard. Instinctively I moved my right hand off her waist to her breast. I pressed on her left tit and she puffed a short breath into my mouth. Emma pushed me up and off and stared wide-eyed at me for a few moments then spoke.

"What he did wasn't like that." I started to apologize but she continued. "You touched me more firmly. What you did felt kind of good. When he touched me it didn't feel like that."

"You said Charlie touched you there." To me, a touch was a touch, you know?

"Not like that, he didn't press, he just kind of brushed across it. I felt what you did and it was kind of, uh, kind of --" she couldn't explain how she felt about me feeling her up but she was blushing. I reached over and put my hand over the mound of her breast again. I slid my hand across the tip.

"Like that?" I asked.

"Sort of," she breathed. Emma put her hand over mine and pressed it flat against her. I felt her heart thudding as hard as mine.

I looked at the bedside clock and saw to my surprise Emma had been in my room for almost 45 minutes.

"Hey, I've got chores to do or Dad won't give me my allowance. I gotta go."

"Okay. It's too bad you can't go on a few dates. I think you're ready. If I like kissing you this much, I'm sure other girls would, too," she said.

She got up to leave but I stayed on my stomach until she was gone. I didn't want her to see my hard-on.

Getting good grades pays off. I found this out when Connie Thompson's parents called my parents and asked them if I could give Connie a little help to pull her algebra grade up. Apparently they had asked the teacher who she'd recommend, and Mrs. Richards gave them my name. Of course my parents volunteered my time and I spent five evenings at Connie's house, ostensibly to study. They weren't date-dates, but I got to spend some time alone with a cute girl.

The first few nights, her parents made us study at the dining room table. That was understandable. Connie was really cute and any boy would have loved to get her alone. On the fourth night they had some friends over, and the dining room table was needed for entertaining, so we finally got sent to her room. The door had to stay open, but that was fine. Nothing happened that night, except that, when it was time for Mr. Thompson to drive me home, Connie gave me a kiss on the cheek to thank me for the fact that Algebra was making more sense to her, now.

It was the last night that was interesting. Because we had apparently passed some kind of test, we were allowed to study in her room again. Again the door was open, but nobody came to check on us.

"I get it, now," she said, 45 minutes into my review of formulas. "I just couldn't remember the formulas before. I know how important they are now, and I'll work on memorizing them. Let's do something else, now."

I asked what she wanted to do, and suddenly Connie Thompson's lips were pressed against mine, and her breasts were pressed against my chest.

It turns out Connie is a really good kisser. And she likes to kiss with her mouth open. She didn't eat my face, but her tongue went in my mouth a lot and, eventually, I started sucking on it and pushing my tongue into her mouth.

Instinct took over and my hand strayed onto one of her firm breasts. She was wearing a bra and it supported her breasts really well.

She breathed faster and pulled me tighter to her. She stretched out on the bed pulling me with her then I got to feel her up more.

Then she whispered in my ear, "You can go under my bra."

My cock went from hard to steel while I reached and slid my hand under her shirt and up to her bra. It was tighter than I thought it would be, and I fumbled with it. She reached and tugged, and suddenly her tits were uncovered. I put my hand on one of them and she kissed me again. I couldn't believe how hot her skin felt. The tip was rough and my fingers played with that roughness. When I squeezed it a little, she moaned. This went on for maybe five minutes, with me kissing her and playing with her nipple and then she pulled back.

"Okay, that's enough. You have to leave, now."

She pulled her bra back down and went to find her dad to tell him to take me home. When I got there nobody was home, so I jacked off into a sock in my room and went to sleep.

The next morning Emma came out of her room as I passed it on the way to get breakfast.

"Where was everybody last night?" I asked.

"We had a choir performance," she said. She was an alto in the choir and, normally, I'd have been interested in going to hear them. But last night I'd gotten my hand on a bare titty. I looked around to make sure there was no parent near enough to hear, and leaned closer to her to whisper.

"I got to kiss Connie last night. Feel her up, too!"

"No way," said Emma. "How was it?"

"Interesting, but frustrating, too."


"We were kissing and I put my hand on her tit, I mean her breast, like I did you. She said I could put my hand under her bra, and I did that, but pretty soon she said I had to leave. I was so frustrated that I had to come home and be-" I stopped. One didn't admit to one's sister that one jerked off.

"What?" she asked.


"It wasn't nothing. You started to say something and then stopped. What did you do?"

"Guys have to release the pressure when they get worked up," I said.

She frowned, but then smiled.

"You jerked off, right?" She grinned.

"It's not funny," I said.

"I'm not laughing. Girls do it too, you know."

"They do?" I was astonished.

"Of course. I've been doing it since I was twelve."

"How?" I asked. I really didn't have any experience with these things. All I knew was that girls didn't have a penis. So how could they jerk off?

"Never mind that," she said. "So she let you touch her naked breast but then made you leave? That's weird."

"I thought so too," I said.

"I wonder why?"

"I don't know. She was breathing real hard and her face was red. I thought maybe she was embarrassed."

"Why would she tell you it was okay to do it, but then be embarrassed about it?"

"I don't know."

"Okay," she said. "Let's reenact it and I'll see what it feels like. Maybe you hurt her or something."

She might have been my sister, but she had just offered to let me do some more intimate practice with her. Dad was on a trip, and Mom was gone garage saleing. Emma pulled me down on her bed and gave me a warm-up kiss. I slid my hand under her shirt and then told her what had happened.

"Why didn't you just undo her bra?" asked Emma.

"I don't know how," I said.

She laughed and, in about thirty seconds, taught me how to undo a girl's bra. She said the concept was usually the same with all bras, except some had more hooks than others. I slid my hand from her back to her front and then under her bra and onto a firm mound. She hissed.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked.

"No! I just wasn't ready for it to feel that good," she said.

I kissed her and played with her nipple the same way I had played with Connie's. She kissed me harder as I squeezed it. Hers felt a little bigger than Connie's had. Finally she pushed me away.

She was breathing hard and red-faced, too.

"I know why she made you go home," said my sister.


"Because she wanted to do the same thing you wanted to do."


"She wanted to rub, silly. What you're doing to my nipple feels really good. I mean really good. It makes me want to rub right now."


"You were excited. You had a boner, right?"

"Yes," I said, somehow unembarrassed to admit that to my sister.

"Well, just like you needed to jerk off, she needed to rub."


"Girls rub between their legs," she said. "That's how we jerk off."

"Like this?"

I reached between her legs. It was Saturday, but for some reason Emma had put on a skirt, and as my hand went between her legs, it also went under the skirt. Without really thinking I was going to do it, I put my hand right on the front of her panties and rubbed.

She went rigid, and her eyes got huge.

"Bobby!" she squealed.

I jerked my hand away. My fingertips felt a little damp.

"I'm sorry!" I yelped. "It was an accident!"

"You don't put your hand on a girl's pussy and then rub it and it's somehow an accident!" she shot back.

"What I mean is I didn't think about it first. You said girls rub, and I didn't understand how that would do anything, and I just ..."

"You just rubbed my pussy!" she said.

"I said I was sorry," I groaned. "I still don't understand. You don't have a penis to rub so ... what do you rub?"

"Girls have a button," she said. Her eyes were still wide.


"It's called a clit. Are you a complete ignoramus?"

I had heard about clits before, but I'd never seen one, and the whole idea was very murky. I told her that.

"Come with me," she said.

We went back to the laptop and she did a Google search for "clit".

In the next hour I learned all about the clitoris. There was a link that led us to a TED talk called Cliteracy, by a woman named Sophia Wallace, which should be required viewing in school, even though the only pictures were of drawings and statues of the whole clitoris, including the internal part which you can't normally see. At other hits there were color illustrations, and I blushed as I looked at them. This was different than seeing a naked woman at a porn site. I didn't do that a lot, because I didn't want to get caught, but I'd seen pictures of a few naked women. This was up close and personal, though.

"Does yours look like that?" I asked.

"I don't know. I've never looked at it," she said. "It's kind of hard to see on yourself. But I've felt it plenty of times."

"Can I feel yours?" I asked.

She clubbed me with her fist.

"I let you feel up my boob. Don't get ridiculous," she said. "Will you let me play with your boner?"

She had meant that as a challenge that would obviously be answered with, "Of course not," but I was a guy, not a girl.

"Maybe," I said.

She stopped.

"Really? You'd let me touch it?"

"Maybe," I said again.

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