Disclaimer: All persons involved in any sexual situation are 18 years of age or more. The following story is pure fantasy.
My sister was born six weeks premature, prior to my first birthday, and weighed in at just over four pounds. My mom named her Dorothy after my great-aunt but everyone calls her Dottie. Because Dorothy is not an embarrassing enough name for a young girl. It was a great homage, though; Aunt Dorothy is a great lady. She is one of the most amazing women I know. Smart as a whip and, even in her 60’s, was still a beautiful woman. There was even a family tale that in the 1970’s she slept with George Harrison of the Beatles. When this came up in conversation, Aunt Dorothy would vehemently deny it but Uncle Paul would shrug his shoulders and wink at us.
Dottie was always small. When she reached her full height she was a shade over five feet, with her tennies on. She was an adorable child, full of energy and sweet as sugar. She seemed to never be sad or angry or impatient, even into her teen years. She was always smiling but with a look that made one wonder what was going on behind those gorgeous gray eyes. She was also a gifted athlete, excelling in gymnastics. She was a winner. One day, out of the blue, she told us that she didn’t want to do gymnastics anymore. She wanted new challenges.
Puberty was very kind to Dottie, at least for the observer. Despite her small stature, she was blessed with, shall we say “healthy” breasts. On a normal-sized girl they would probably be, well, normal. But on my sister they looked huge. I think for awhile she was embarrassed by them and she did her best to cover them when she was younger but embraced them a little more as she grew older. I would love to say that I was immune to her charms but that would be a lie. Five feet tall, amazing gray eyes, soft brown hair, a round bottom that I would have paid money to kiss (even now I get butterflies thinking of it), and those boobs. Oh lord.
She always looked good but when Bikini Season came around I was done for. My hormones would go into overdrive and I would have to ramp up my masturbation schedule. My parents were pretty cool and understanding but it just wouldn’t do to be walking around with a hard-on all day. I certainly didn’t want to have to explain that to Mom and Dad. And with Dottie around, who needed to watch porn? I feel bad debasing her like that, as if she was doing something to elicit a perverted response from me. But she was just being Dottie. Beautiful, sweet, smiling Dottie. With startlingly large boobs.
She did walk in on me masturbating once. I had just stepped out of the shower when the urge hit me. And we certainly can’t hold on to those urges, can we? I just stood in the bathroom and stroked. I closed my eyes and leaned against the counter. I was in the home-stretch, so to speak, when Dottie walked in. My eyes flew open to see her standing in the doorway wearing pajama shorts, a tee that showed a couple inches of her flat stomach, and a look of surprise and dismay.
“Dottie!” I screamed, turning quickly away.
“Gah!” she responded. “Peter, I am so sorry! I thought you were done!”
I almost was, I thought. My dick was still in my hand but had become a little shy. I looked sideways into the foggy bathroom mirror and I swear she was looking at my butt.
“Why are you still here?” I asked, embarrassed to be standing naked in front of my little sister.
She turned her head and covered her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” she repeated. “I just came in to pee. I thought you were already out of the bathroom.” She lifted her hand ever so slightly. “Please don’t be mad.” She turned and left. In the hallway, she whispered loud enough for me to hear, “And don’t be embarrassed. Everybody does it. Like, almost literally, everybody.”
Yeah but not in front of their little sister.
No family is immune to sadness and death and the pain that comes with it. Dottie and I had another sister, eight years older than me. Her name was Meghan and she died at the age of 12 from leukemia. She had fought it bravely for four years but ultimately she lost that battle. I have very few memories of her, aside from fractured and fuzzy ones from her various stays in the hospital. According to mom Meghan was a sweet but quiet girl, very cerebral, with her nose frequently in books. I was also told that she was gorgeous and this was confirmed from the many photos we had of her.
My mom was obviously profoundly affected by the loss of her oldest child and occasionally struggled to give all proper focus to Dottie and I. She was not unpleasant, just frequently distant and unengaged. When I was about 14 mom began to act very strangely. She would frequently talk to herself and not respond to questions. It was easy to attribute that to preoccupation or perhaps lingering effects of the loss of Meghan but eventually she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. She went to counseling and took medication for it but her condition quickly bursa escort began to deteriorate. One day my dad woke up to find my mom gone. We searched everywhere for her, as a family and with the police involved. There was, of course an investigation and there was found no sign of foul play. She was just gone. Six months later she was found dead in an abandoned building in Trenton, New Jersey, 500 miles away. She had died of starvation and it was believed she spent her last days alone, but for the voices in her head.
Again, our family had to recover from sadness and loss.
Two weeks after I began my freshman year at Ohio State my father passed away from an aortic aneurysm at the age of 44. It was later found that he had Marfan Syndrome. He had all the signs for it: he was very tall (about 6’7″) and had very long fingers and toes. We just missed the signs.
Again, our family had to recover from sadness and loss. But this time it left Dottie and me alone. My Aunt Dorothy quickly stepped up to the plate and was a great help and support. She became our guardian and arranged for my sister and I to be able to stay in our home. It was an extremely rough time for me and there were moments when I thought there was no way I could carry on with a normal life. But Aunt Dorothy helped down the road of recovery. And then there was Dottie. She was also affected by the loss of our parents but she always recovered quickly and would soon have that smile back. I knew that I could always depend on Dottie’s strength and she never failed to be there in my weakest moments.
Life soon began to return to normalcy and routine. I missed most of my first semester because of my dad’s passing and all the emotion and chaos that followed but I vowed to stick with it and restarted for the Spring semester. It was great to be able to do it in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio. It was convenient, as I didn’t want to leave Dottie during her last year of high school. We of course were still in our childhood home which my sister always made sure was immaculately clean, which is great because I’ve always been a bit of a slob.
While schoolwork was always a struggle for me and required a lot of hard work, it always came natural to Dottie. She seemed to effortlessly get great grades. She had already received offers for academic scholarship to outstanding schools such as Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Stanford, and even good old Ohio State. It was not uncommon for me to be burning the midnight oil, working on some assignment or other, while Dottie was long done with her work. This meant she would occasionally get bored and come invade my room as I attempted to get my work done. Usually she would just sit on my bed and listen to my music or pick up my guitar and idly strum it but sometimes she would want to talk, which of course would make my work take twice as long.
One day, in the beginning of May, Dottie strolled quietly into my room and sat on my bed. I tried my best to ignore her, as I was trying to study for finals. She remained quiet and just flipped casually through my Sports Illustrated that was sitting next to her. She politely cleared her throat and I glanced up at her. She didn’t say anything, just sat there holding the magazine with a glorious smile on her face. She was wearing a long T-shirt, half-way to her knees that said “Buckeye for Life”, stretched perfectly across her breasts. It was very plain but she somehow made it look amazing. She had had that shirt for years and it now didn’t fit her as loosely as it once had. I strained to look her in the eye and smile without glancing down at her breasts. She didn’t say anything so I looked back down at my Biology textbook but it was too late. My brain was full of images of Dottie.
“Did you need something, Dottie?” I asked without looking up.
She sighed. “Not really, I’m just bored. Am I bugging you?”
“Well, kind of. It’s okay though. Got finals soon so I just need to get some studying done. Some of us need to work harder at it than a Brainiac like you.”
Dottie laughed softly. “It’s not all easy for me. I have to study too sometimes. High school is easier than college, I’m assuming.” She glanced at the book on my desk. “Biology? How hard can that be? You took it in 10th grade. Paramecia are still paramecia and corpuscles are still corpuscles, right? It can’t be that hard.” She stood up and walked over to my desk and flipped through the book. “You’ve done all this before. You’re just overthinking it, making it harder than it needs to be.” As she stood next to me I glanced sideways at the perfect curve of her butt, just a foot to my left. It was beautiful and round but with no unwanted fat. I so desperately wanted to reach over and caress it.
I could smell her clean scent; she had just gotten out of the shower and smelled like raspberries. Her brown hair was still damp and hung down straight to the middle of her back. As she stood over my desk, her knee brushed my leg like a whisper, which sent bursa escort bayan butterflies raging in my stomach.
“Sorry. I’ll just let you do your homework then.” I expected her to leave my room but she just went back and sat on my bed, flipping idly through my magazine. I glanced back just as she was crossing her legs. So close…Jesus, I needed to get laid!
Her face showed a look of concentration and preoccupation that I had rarely seen from my kid sister. I know it certainly wasn’t the story about the left fielder for the Nationals that she was currently looking at. She chewed on her lower lip. Something was simmering in that big brain of hers.
She cleared her throat again. “Aunt Dorothy is taking me grocery shopping tomorrow.”
“I know,” I replied, resigning myself to doubling up on my studying tomorrow. Certainly wasn’t happening tonight.
“Anything you want me to get?”
“You know what I like, Dottie.”
“Yes, but nothing special?”
I turned my chair to face her. “No, not really. Maybe some pineapple if it’s not too expensive?”
She smiled brightly. “I can do that. Some Gatorade?”
“Well, we have…”
“Yeah, I’ll get you some Gatorade.”
I sat looking at her and she sat looking at me, silently for a moment. “Something on your mind, Dottie?” She shifted uncomfortably on my bed, setting the Sports Illustrated down. She looked very nervous and looked away from my eyes and stared at her feet. Now she was making me a little nervous. “Okay, Dottie, out with it. I can’t remember ever seeing you like this.”
“Well,” she began, looking back up but not directly in my eyes. “This is really awkward but I don’t know what else to do, who else to talk to.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, elbows on her knees. Her breasts moved unfettered under her T-shirt, a sight I filed for later use. “Certainly not Aunt Dorothy!”
“Okay. No Aunt Dorothy.”
“Yeah, she’s really cool but it would just be too weird of a conversation.” She sat back and anxiously rubbed her knees.
I paused for as long as I could. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging. Awkward, no Aunt Dorothy, Buckeyes…” Oops.
“Nothing. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Well, first let me say, I really miss dad. You know I loved him, right?”
This startled me a little. “Of course. Me too, he was a great man. He knew you loved him and he was so proud of you.”
“I know. I just wanted to make that clear before I go on. I loved him and miss him terribly.” She took a deep breath. “Please don’t get mad at him but he used to watch me.” She looked me intently in the eyes.
“W-watch you?” I stuttered. My mind went blank. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he used to peek through the crack in my door sometimes when I was changing and would often come out of his room just as I was leaving the bathroom in a towel. He used to stare at me when I was in my bathing suit.” She looked at me expectantly, her lip back between her teeth.
I was floored. My dad watched Dottie undressing? This was not the man I knew. My blood began to boil and Dottie could clearly see it in my expression.
“Peter, I asked you to not get mad. Please. He was still a good man. He never touched me or made suggestive comments and it certainly didn’t effect my psyche or anything. I still love him and have a truck-load of great memories of him.”
I sputtered, “But fathers aren’t supposed to be watching their daughters change!”
“No, probably not. But he did. And I’m not mad, I still love him. I just have really wanted to tell someone for quite awhile and who better than my best friend?”
That statement startled me a little and certainly calmed my ire a little. “I’m your best friend?”
She laughed. “Of course, silly! Who else is it going to be? Molly? Gross.” Molly was a friend of hers since grade school, who she often spent time with on the weekends. I could kind of understand ‘gross’ though. She was nice to look at but kind of a bitch. “Why? Who’s your best friend?”
I pretended to think deeply about this. I rubbed my chin and stared at the ceiling, rubbed my temples and “hmmmm”ed. Then I laughed at her downcast face. “I don’t think I’ve ever said this out loud but it’s you. I have guys that I hang with but you are my best friend. We’ve been through some shit together.”
“Yeah. I’m happy to hear you say that,” she said, smiling broadly. “Um, look, there’s another thing too. Dad used to watch me out the window when I was sunbathing in that black bikini. You know the one?”
Did I know the one? Good lord, that bikini was made just for her! It wasn’t scandalous or anything but it framed her perfect butt so beautifully. It was just barely small enough that a hint of her butt crack would sometimes make an appearance. Ugh, butterflies again. “I’m not sure. Maybe. Are you sure it was him? It could’ve been one of my pervy friends.”
She shook her head. “No, I know it was him. escort bursa I could see his hair through the gap in the curtains.” Then she spoke like a game show host. “But wait! There’s more!”
“Oh God, more?”
“Yeah. Um, I’m pretty sure he was masturbating while he looked through the curtains. No, I’m sure he was.”
“How can you know for sure?”
“Well, like I said, I could see his hair so I knew it was him. And the curtain was moving in a very rhythmic way. I know what he was doing.”
I’m sure I looked very confused. “I don’t want you to think I don’t believe you because I know you are not a liar. This is just a lot to take in. Why would he do that to you? I know mom was gone but still…”
“I don’t know for sure but you and I are both smart people. You know I’m not vain but we both know what I look like. I guess he was just doing what guys do.” She turned thoughtful for a moment. “I know this is going to make you uncomfortable but have you ever looked at me like that? Not the jerking off part but, you know, just looked?” She eyed me earnestly and with great anticipation.
I of course took the only action I could. I lied. “Not on purpose. I saw you once in your room in just your blue panties and a t-shirt.” Oops, again.
She raised her eyebrows. “You remember that my panties were blue? You must have really been paying attention.” She smiled.
I tried to backtrack. “Well, no, it’s just there in my memory somehow. Don’t worry I wasn’t perving on you. I was just on my way to my room and there you were.”
“It’s okay, Peter. Even if you were perving, I’m not mad. Sometimes I’m a little careless with keeping my door open. I’ll try to be more careful.”
No! “Well, you don’t have to always if you don’t want. I mean I want you to be comfortable. This is your home. Keep the door open if you want. Wear whatever you want. I can be an adult.”
“That wouldn’t embarrass you?”
“Nah, I’m cool,” I said with a wave of my hand. “It’s not like you’re going to be parading around all day, every day in your blue panties and T-shirt.” I laughed. “Right?” I tried to not look too hopeful.
“Um, yeah,” she replied quietly.
All this talk about her blue panties and bikini and towel-wearing, fresh-from-the-shower images started producing the natural by-product of these discussions. My dick started to grow. I’m not the most incredibly gifted man when it comes to length, maybe a little above average. And it’s pretty thick. I don’t know if she would be able to see it growing in my shorts but I really didn’t want to take that chance so I crossed my legs to block her view.
She smiled at me. “You’re not mad at dad, are you? I’m not. He was still an amazing father.”
“I’m not mad, if you’re not. Most girls would be really freaked out and sad or angry.”
“Well, I think you know I’m not most girls.”
“Indeed.” Dottie Harper was anything but the normal 18-year-old girl.
We were both quiet for a moment. Dottie broke the silence. “It’s going to be pretty chilly tonight. Unseasonably cool for Ohio, the weather guy said, whatever that means. Down to 40 degrees or something. Wasn’t it 85 just last…?” She stopped suddenly, a look of surprise and a little amusement crossed her perfect face.
“What?” I asked, confused.
She glanced down at my knees. “Peter, I can see your dick through the leg of your shorts.”
“Oh, shit!” I blurted as I uncrossed my legs and covered my crotch with my hands. “I am so sorry.”
“Why?” She asked, tilting her head slightly. “Guys get boners. I think it’s funny.”
“Dottie, we don’t use the word ‘funny’ when referring to a guy’s dick.”
“Oh no! That’s not what I meant! I’m just saying you have no reason to be embarrassed or anything. Really. I’m not exactly an expert on these things, as we both know, but I’m pretty sure you should not be concerned about that. We’ll just call this your ‘blue panties moment’.” She smiled again, reassuring me. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen it.”
I rolled my eyes and desperately tried to will my dick into going down. “Oh Jesus, do we have to bring that up? That was such a humiliating moment!”
“Humiliating? It shouldn’t be, as I just said. Maybe a little surprising and uncomfortable. But you definitely have nothing to be humiliated about. I do it too, you know. Maybe not standing in the bathroom, facing the door, though.” She giggled. “I felt bad that I interrupted you. You looked quite intense in that moment and the head of your dick was almost glowing purple. I just barely stopped you short, didn’t I?”
I rubbed my eyes. “Oh Jesus…”
I could hear the amusement in her voice. I looked back as she leaned forward on her knees again. “Were you able to finish after I left?”
“Oh my god, Dottie…” She leaned back on her hands, her T-shirt riding up a little higher on her thighs. I looked for just a flash and then looked back at her face. She was staring intensely right in my eyes, with a smile on her face. Not a smile to mask a hidden agenda but a genuine smile of happiness. She waited patiently for my response. “So, I hear you’re going shopping with Aunt Dorothy tomorrow.”