On a Friday evening, at 11:20 PM, my parents were away for the weekend. My sister, Stacey, was attending a social gathering. I was viewing a horror film on television, where a crazed individual was attacking cheerleaders, who were all youthful and well-endowed, often appearing topless. I touched myself intimately beneath my shorts as their breasts jiggled, fleeing from the maniacal killer. Perhaps I should switch to an adult film instead.
The door opened abruptly and slammed shut with a bang. “Hi, Chris!”
Stacey, my sister, stumbled into the lounge with a cheerful greeting, “Hi, Chris!” She was wearing a flimsy white blouse, unbuttoned to reveal her black bra, and a miniskirt that barely reached her upper thighs. “How are you?” she asked.
Plopping down beside me on the couch, she kicked off her heels and leaned in for a sloppy, drunken kiss. Lips. “Whatcha doin’?” she slurred.
“You’re drunk,” I stated, switching off the TV. “And back early. I honestly expected you to be with some other man tonight.”
“Yes, Susan found me kissing her boyfriend, and she threw me out.” Stacey chuckled. “That woman! Also, no… I almost hooked up with a handsome guy, but he wasn’t interested.”
“He wasn’t interested?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a first.” Stacey was usually pretty good at turning heads, even when sober. Now, smelling of cheap perfume and spilled beer, her hair a mess, she seemed almost…vulnerable.
She shrugged, the flimsy blouse slipping further off her shoulder. “He said I was ‘too much work.'” She giggled again, but this time it sounded a little forced. “Maybe he was right. I am a handful, aren’t I?”
I sighed. “You are,” I agreed, perhaps a little too readily. “Look, you’re clearly in no state to be out. Let’s get you some water and something to eat. Then you’re going to bed.”
“Boooring,” she whined, leaning against me. “Stay and watch the movie with me. It looked interesting. All those…bouncy things.”
Stacey was attractive. Quite alluring, in fact. Her legs were long, and she maintained her fitness through swimming and practicing yoga. We didn’t own a pool, but whenever I saw her in a bikini at the beach or on holiday, I understood her appeal to others.
At 23, she’s in college for health and beauty, though her class attendance is inconsistent. I, at 21, am working on my computer degree. Our 32-year-old older sister, Claire, doesn’t live with our parents anymore.
Stacey leaned back and stretched her legs out. Her blouse shifted slightly. “Is there any beer?”
“I think you’ve had enough,” I said. Her bare foot nudged my leg.
“Oh, you’re no fun. C’mon, get me a beer, would you?” she pleaded.
“Fine,” I groaned, accepting the situation. Maybe it would work and put her to sleep, assuming the alternative wasn’t throwing up everywhere. I fetched a drink for both of us. Without waiting, she snatched hers from my grasp and chugged half of it before I had a chance to sit down.
“So, whatcha doing?” She crossed her ankles, settling onto the edge of the couch.
“Just watching this crap.” I picked up the remote, not really looking away from the screen. “Guess you got kicked out, huh?”
“Yeah, figures. Stupid Susan.” She let out a short, slightly bitter laugh. “Honestly, I was just making out with her boyfriend because—” She stopped, looking at me for a brief, awkward second before focusing intently on something across the room. “Okay, fine. I was bored. Really bored. And… well, yeah. So fucking horny.”
“Well, guess you’re stuck with me,” I offered, maybe trying too hard to sound casual. “Should’ve picked someone else.”
“Yeah,” Stacey agreed softly, lifting her beer.
I hit play.
Without missing a beat, Stacey reached back under her shirt and unsnapped her bra, her eyes already glued to the screen. Up there, a masked guy with an axe watched a cheerleader slowly undress.
“Ugh,” Stacey muttered, letting out a big yawn. “This is your kind of thing, huh?”
I just shrugged. “Want me to change it?”
“No, it’s fine,” she said, taking a slow drink. “Guess there are worse ways to spend an evening.”
Ten minutes later, right after the cheerleader bought it, Stacey was out cold, snoring softly.
Stacey had drifted off on the couch. Her legs were tucked up, her short skirt smooth over her thighs, and she was snoring softly, her chest rising and falling. Her bra had slipped just enough that I could catch the edge of a nipple. One foot dangled to the floor, and her thighs were spread a little, letting me almost see her black panties underneath. The movie finally wrapped up – the second-to-last cheerleader gone, the masked killer maybe defeated – and I turned off the TV. I gently nudged her knee.
“Hey, let’s get you up to bed.” Her eyes fluttered open sleepily. “Huh?”
“Bed,” I prompted, standing and reaching for her hand. “Come on, sleepyhead.” A sleepy giggle escaped her.
“Okay! Take me to bed!” She pushed herself up, her blouse still hanging open, and latched onto my arm for balance.
“Oh-kay,” she mumbled, taking an unsteady step forward. I stayed close, following her wobbly path up the stairs and down the hall to her room.
The door swung open, and she fumbled for the light switch inside the dim room. The sudden glare made her stumble, a little off-kilter already, and my hands shot out instinctively, gripping her upper arms to steady her. In the awkward twist, the silky sleeve of her blouse snagged, pulling down.
She staggered, the fabric pooling down her arm, leaving the blouse dangling precariously from just one shoulder now. Still chuckling at her own clumsiness, I gently guided her towards the bed. She spun around, a blur of motion and laughter, and collapsed onto the mattress, the dangling blouse finally slipping completely down her arm.
I just stood there, rooted to the spot, my eyes locked on her. Her blouse now hung draped by one wrist, while her bra was dangling from her other shoulder strap, almost completely off. And then I saw them. Her tits. Fully exposed, unbound, flushed and glistening slightly with sweat in the harsh overhead light. I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
God, they seemed bigger than I’d ever imagined, even after seeing her in countless bikinis over the years. Soft, full curves tipped with small, sweet pink nipples. Her whole chest was flushed, damp skin pulled taut over those incredible boobs, which jiggled enticingly as she bounced slightly on the bed, still laughing, her eyes meeting mine with a look that knew exactly where I was looking.
A jolt went through me, electric and undeniable. Against every ounce of self-control I possessed, I felt my cock begin to swell and stiffen inside my jeans, responding instantly, shamelessly, to the sight of her naked breasts.
Her laughter softened into a low, husky chuckle. “What’s the matter, Chris?” she purred, her voice thick with amusement. “Never seen a girl’s boobs before?” She spread her arms wide, arching her back as she leaned against the pillows, deliberately pushing her beautiful tits even further forward, offering them up for my inspection. “Go on,” she challenged, a playful smirk on her lips. “Take a good look! Here they are! Do you… like them?”
Her direct challenge, the blatant display, finally broke the spell. I tore my eyes from her chest, forcing myself to turn away, towards the door and the hallway beyond. My voice was rough, barely a whisper. “Just… go to bed.”
“Aw, you’re no fun. Wait!” Stacey’s voice was playful, laced with a hint of drunken mischief. She attempted to rise from the rumpled sheets of her unmade bed, her fingers fumbling with the hem of her ridiculously short skirt. The effort proved too much, and she plopped back down, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “Help me with this. I think something’s stuck.” She twisted, tugging impatiently at a zipper on the side seam.
I stood frozen just inside the doorway, my body betraying me with an insistent hardening. The sight of her sprawled on the bed, half-undressed and radiating a chaotic energy, was a potent cocktail to my senses.
Stacey was my sister. A fact my mind screamed but my raging hormones ignored. God, she was hot. Her legs seemed to stretch on forever, and even in the dim light, the curve of her hips was undeniable.
“Well?” she finally snapped, her green eyes flashing up at me. “Are you just going to stand there and drool?” Her tone was teasing, but I could detect a genuine impatience beneath the surface.
Her words jolted me back to a semblance of awareness, though they did nothing to quell the throbbing in my groin. Taking a hesitant step, I leaned down, my gaze fixed on the recalcitrant zipper. She gripped the fabric of the skirt, her fingers brushing against mine as I carefully tugged. After a couple of stubborn attempts, the zipper finally yielded, and the skirt slid down her legs, pooling around her ankles.
Now, she sat before me clad only in a pair of black panties. The flimsy material offered little to the imagination, hinting at the contours of her mound beneath. Trying to ignore my body’s reaction, I straightened up, taking a hasty step back. “You’re okay now. Go to bed.”
With a careless flick of her wrist, she tossed the discarded skirt into the corner. “Okay. Thanks. Good night, Chris.” She tilted her head, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “Gimme a good night kiss?”
“Uh, no.” I waved a dismissive hand, turning and fleeing the room.
Back downstairs, I busied myself with cleaning up, locking the doors, and switching off the lights, anything to distract myself from the image of Stacey. But as I ascended to the second floor again, I noticed a sliver of light escaping from under her door. Concern gnawed at me. Had she gotten sick? I needed to check on her, just in case she’d vomited all over her bed or the floor.
But the scene that greeted me was far from what I expected. She was lying on the bed, on top of the sheets. Stark naked.
I froze in the doorway, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I knew I should retreat, close the door, and escape back to my own room. Give my aching cock some relief, perhaps. I knew this was twisted, wrong. But I was powerless to tear my gaze away.
Her legs were long and tanned, the memory of her athletic past still evident in their firm curves. Her pussy was neatly groomed, a delicate landing strip leading down to her glistening slit, and her thighs were taut and glistening.
Her breasts – I allowed myself the indulgence of a long, lingering look, knowing she was oblivious. They were round and full, almost as deeply tanned as her belly. They rose and fell with each breath, her nipples hard and pink, pointing towards the ceiling.
As I watched, spellbound, she yawned in her sleep, her arm reaching down to scratch the inside of her thigh. Then, with a soft sigh, her fingers flicked across her pussy. She rubbed her nose, sneezed softly, and rolled onto her side, her snores growing louder.
Suddenly, I reached my breaking point. Stacey had been pushing my buttons all night. She was my sister, and she was clearly intoxicated, but I could no longer ignore the pulsating ache between my legs.
With a swift, desperate motion, I yanked down my jeans and boxers, grabbing my engorged cock in my fist. My eyes remained glued to Stacey’s tits, my hand stroking faster and faster, my blood roaring in my ears. I licked my lips, my gaze drifting from her erect nipples down to her pussy – her slit, her gash, her twat – which looked so swollen, wet, and inviting, as if she were lost in a dirty dream of her own. Her legs twitched, and her hand instinctively slid between her thighs, as if seeking warmth.
I rocked back and forth on my heels, grunting softly, the pressure building inside me. My hand moved with increasing urgency, the friction intensifying with each stroke. I bit down on my lip to stifle any sound, but I couldn’t suppress the low, guttural noises escaping my throat as my cock throbbed harder and harder.
Stacey rolled onto her back again, sighing in her sleep, oblivious to my suffering. Was she stirring? I couldn’t stop now, even if I wanted to. My hand pumped faster, my breathing ragged and labored. Oh fuck, this felt exquisite, this felt so utterly, forbiddenly good. I riveted my gaze on Stacey’s breasts, then her pussy, then back to those perfect tits, her bare shoulders, her flat belly, her legs, her breasts, her pussy…
Should I put it in her pussy, she’s so drunk and naked. I hesitated, my heart hammering against my ribs like a frantic drummer. The thought was so shocking, so wrong, it almost jolted me back to reality. But my body was a runaway train, fueled by lust and alcohol, careening towards destruction. I knelt between her open legs, my throbbing cock hovering inches from her feminine heat.
The air crackled with the weight of my impending transgression. I watched her bare chest rise and fall with each breath, her lips slightly parted in a silent invitation. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, so utterly unaware of the battle raging within me. A wave of guilt washed over me, threatening to extinguish the fire consuming my loins.
But the heat was too intense, the need too overwhelming. My muscles clenched, my hand pumping with renewed fervor. I lowered myself, pressing the throbbing head of my cock against her wetness. Just for a moment, I told myself. Just to feel it.
A small moan escaped her lips, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. My breath hitched in my throat. Had she felt it? Was she waking up? Panic surged, but I was now a prisoner of my own desire, unable to stop the momentum that carried me forward. I pressed harder, seeking entry, her body shifted slightly, her legs opening a fraction more, as if unconsciously inviting me to cross the line.
I gritted my teeth, a silent battle raging within me. One part of me screamed to stop, to pull away and run as far as possible from this moment. The other part, the darker, more primal part, urged me on, whispering promises of pleasure, of release, of finally satisfying the forbidden longing that had haunted me for so long.
My teeth grazed her nipple, swirling my tongue around the sensitive peak. Stacey stirred beneath me, a breathy moan slipping from her parted lips. A jolt of electricity shot down my spine at the sound, spurring me on.
Her body began to respond of its own accord, her hips undulating in a slow, sensual rhythm. The sight of her lost in pleasure, her skin glistening in the moonlight, was almost too much to bear. A primal growl rumbled in my chest as I claimed her other nipple, sucking hard, laving it with my tongue before giving it the same treatment.
The sheets were cool and crisp beneath my bare skin as I rolled over, reaching for my half-empty glass of bourbon from the bedside table. I downed the amber liquid in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slid down my throat. Emptying the glass, I set it back with a soft clink.
It was late, the clock on the dresser blinking 2:47 in glowing red numbers. I should have been asleep hours ago, but rest eluded me. My mind was too restless, too consumed with thoughts of her.
I thought back to earlier that night at the bar. The dim lighting, the pulsing music, the crush of bodies on the dance floor. And her – Stacey, my sister’s best friend, looking like a goddess in a slinky red dress that left little to the imagination.
We’d locked eyes across the crowded room, a spark crackling between us. The air grew heavy as I approached her, the sounds of clinking glasses and raucous laughter fading away until it was just us. Her dark eyes had been hooded, pupils blown with alcohol and… desire?
I couldn’t resist. I’d always had a thing for my sister’s beautiful friend. The forbidden fruit that I never dared pluck. But tonight, with too much bourbon flowing and a fire I couldn’t ignore, I took what I wanted.
My hand slid down her quivering belly, fingers delving into her slick folds. She was so wet, her arousal coating my digits as I stroked her. I circled her clit, teasing the sensitive nub, and was rewarded with a sharp gasp. Her thighs fell open, baring herself completely to my greedy gaze.
“Mmmm, feels sooooo good,” she purred, words slurring together. “Don’t… ahh… don’t stop touching me there…”
I settled between her legs, my rigid cock twitching impatiently against her inner thigh. I lined myself up with her entrance, the blunt head nudging her slippery opening. For a moment, I simply savored the feeling, the promise of her tight heat enveloping me.
Then, with a guttural groan, I thrust forward, sheathing myself inside her in one smooth stroke. Her slick walls clenched around me, velvet soft and scorching hot. I nearly lost it right then and there, her body fitting me like a glove.
“Ohhh f-fuck,” she stammmered, back arching off the bed. “So… hah… big…”
I started to move, my hips surging in a deep, purposeful rhythm. The wet sounds of our coupling filled the room, mixing with Stacey’s breathy moans and whimpers. Each drag of my cock along her fluttering walls stoked the fire raging in my veins. I was lost to sensation, drowning in the feel of her, the taste of her, the intoxicating scent of our mingled arousal.
“Chris,” she keened, nails raking down my sweat-slicked back. “Harder… please…w-want to… feel you everywhere…”
Stacey’s legs had fallen open in welcome, and I hooked my arms behind her knees, nearly bending her in half as I loomed over her. I drove into her with abandon, spurred on by her desperate pleas. The new angle allowed me to reach even deeper, and I aimed for that special spot inside her with each thrust.
Her moans grew higher in pitch, her body tensing, teetering on the brink. She was close, so close. I could feel her silky walls starting to flutter around my pistoning cock.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, voice ragged. “G-gonna… ahhh… gonna cum… fuck… you’re… mmngh… ruining my pussy…”
I reached between us, my fingers finding her swollen clit. I rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight circles, wanting to push her over the edge. Her cries grew frantic, her nails leaving stinging welts along my shoulder blades.
With a final, brutal thrust, I buried myself to the hilt inside her, grinding my pelvis against hers. Stacey shattered with a hoarse scream, her pussy clamping down on my cock like a vice as her orgasm crashed through her. I groaned brokenly, my own release barreling toward me like a runaway train.
I came with a roar, my vision whiting out as I spilled deep inside her. I continued to rock into her, working us both through the aftershocks, until I collapsed on top of her, spent and sated.
We lay there for a long moment, gasping for air, our sweat-slicked skin cooling in the night air. The weight of what we’d just done slowly sank in. Stacey and I had crossed a line, committed the ultimate taboo. The gravity of it threatened to suffocate me.
But as I pulled out of her, she whispered, a blissful smile on her face. “Thank you.”
And with that, she drifted off to sleep, snoring softly. I lay next to her, wide awake and consumed by guilt and confusion, but somehow… something else too. Something that felt a lot like satisfaction.