My sister is a drop-dead gorgeous head-turning honey, and a lesbian. When guys find out, they often weep, not only for their imagined personal loss, but for the loss to all men. If I’ve heard ‘What a waste’ once, I’ve heard it a thousand times.
Joie, sweet pants to me, is 23. I’m 30. Our relationship as kids was not particularly close, but we liked and respected each other, and I always thought there was a close, underlying bond between us. Things changed drastically for us on her 18th birthday.
We had a special family lunch for her that day and right after the dishes were cleared from the table she asked for everybody’s attention. When all was quiet, and in a very matter-of-fact tone, she announced she was gay, a lesbian.
Now, let me tell you, in our just-right-of-the-Kaiser conservative family that announcement was not greeted with either acceptance or support.
After a very long, tense, silence, our father blurted, “You’re a queer?”
“No, Daddy, not a queer, a lesbian.”
Neither he, nor Mom, nor any of the aunts and uncles, nor any of the cousins knew anything from lesbian or queer. But they all knew from Pat Robertson’s type of Bible-belt prejudice, and that told them she was a sinner, an abomination in the eyes of God, and therefore in the eyes of the family.
What a ruckus she created. I won’t even tell you about fifteen-year-old Amy asking no one in particular, “What’s a lesbian?”
After trying to convince her to ‘change back’ through pleading, prayer, anger, threats, and the ever present ‘What will we tell our friends and neighbors?’ Dad kicked her out.
“No queer is going to sleep under my roof!”
Joie was devastated. As much as she tried to explain how she felt, or begged for understanding, her pleas fell on deaf ears, except for mine that is. I tried to lend support but was told repeatedly ‘You stay out of this.’
Finally I said, “Pack enough for a couple of days and let’s get out of here. You can stay at my place till this storm blows over.”
She did and we left, but the storm never blew over. That was five years ago and to this day our parents have refused to acknowledge our existence. Joie is an outcast because she is a ‘queer’ and I am out because I took her side.
She stayed with me for almost a year. I had a one-bedroom apartment at the time and she took up residence in the living room and slept on the sofa bed. With only one bathroom there were sometimes scheduling difficulties, but some times she walked around wearing only her panties and bra and she always hand washed her ‘dainties’ and hung them around the apartment and that made it easier for me to adjust to sharing the facilities. All and all, we got along splendidly.
During that year we became very close. Not sexually, but in every other way we became intimate, sharing our thoughts and fleeing about everything. Of course we talked a lot about sex and she told me her life’s history regarding growing up gay in a straight world. It wasn’t easy for her.
But, some of her stories were actually hilarious to me. The one about the slow dancing at the prom was the best. Her date must have been possessed of a monster cock, or at least her perception of a monster cock, and her trying to describe him pushing it into her and everything she tried to do to evade it brought tears to my eyes.
I in turn would share some of my adventures with the women I dated and she would listen with full attention, even asking for some graphic details about the more intimate moments. As her social life started to improve she would come home and tell me about her experiences and regale me with stories of conquest and seduction. Unusual, I thought, in a culture devoid of men.
After a year she was employed and found a place of her own. I really missed her. For a long while I felt terribly alone without her around and did a lot of dating, I guess trying to compensate for her not being there. We still got together about once a week, dinner at my place on Wednesdays, and we continued to share our stories.
Two years after she moved to her own place, I bought a nice two-bedroom, two-bath condo about three miles from her apartment and we were able to see each other more often. She was now 21, vastly more experienced, and very world-wise. Being ‘different’ always heightens the survival instinct.
One evening after dinner, she was telling me a very detailed story about a date with another very attractive babe when she suddenly stopped talking and gave me a very strange look.
“You’re hard, aren’t you? This is turning you on. I just realized. Wow, how stupid can I be?” In a softer voice, “Sorry, I never realized.”
“Don’t be sorry, I love your stories. They have been giving me woodies for years. I guess I just did a poor job of hiding my emotions this time.”
She laughed and said, “Imagine that. Here we are, telling each other stories about our love lives and we’re both turned on by it.”
“You bet, me to. I can’t escort kartal tell you how often I’ve run to my bedroom as soon as I get home and almost dive on my vibrator, or my fingers. I’ve had some intense orgasms while masturbating with the details of your conquests fresh in my mind. I just substitute me for you. I’ve even gotten started in my car on the way home. What do you do?”
I held up my hand and smiled, “Same thing, but no vibrator.”
Then with a vary gentle expression on her face she said, “If you want to masturbate now, while I tell my story, I wouldn’t mind, I mean it wouldn’t bother me. I mean, I mean…”
She was really blushing now and I said, “You mean what? Tell me exactly what you mean.”
“What I mean is, I may be a lesbian, and I have absolutely no desire to ever have a cock stuck inside of me, but I’m curious the see a guy do it, to get himself off.”
“You want me to jack off while you tell your story, is that it?”
“No, I don’t want you to, like it was a requirement or anything, but if my stories turn you on, and if you want to, I want you to. That way when one of your stories turns me on, I could let some of the pressure off here and not have to wait till I got home. Fair is fair, after all.”
I had lost my hard-on when she mentioned it, but it was back. I stood with my shorts well tented and said, “Give me a moment.”
I was back in a flash with some K-Y Jelly and a towel. I stripped off my shorts and said, “Take it slow and tell me everything, all the juicy details, if I’m going to do this, I want it to be good.”
We were in the living room and I sat on the couch, lubed up generously in an attempt to last as long as I could, and said, “Talk.”
“Well, where was I?”
I remembered, “You had just told her to spread her legs.”
“Oh, yes.” While she talked she pulled her chair over and sat directly in front of me, curious and intent, watching her big brother play with his cock.
Joie continued, “I told her to spread her legs and she did. Then I got down on my stomach with my face directly in front of her pussy. Her panties were sopping wet, and I knew she was as turned on as I was.
I rubbed her gently through her panties for about five minutes, sometimes stroking the insides of her thighs. Did I tell you she was wearing thigh-highs with really sexy, lacy tops. She was so hot looking I wanted to eat her for dinner…”
Joie told her story in exquisite detail, never taking her eyes off me. When she wasn’t looking at my cock she was looking me right in the eye. I was experiencing mixed emotions. As much as I appreciated her beauty, I had never had any real overt sexual desire for my sister. I loved to look at her and those times in panties and bra were delightful, but she was my sister and I just never thought of her as a sexual object.
Things were different tonight but as much as I was enjoying myself with her watching, the fantasy was my sister making love to her date and not my sister herself. I wondered if I was normal.
As she talked and watched she too became more and more excited. About five minutes into this new experience, she lifted her hips and slid her shorts and panties down her legs. She sat with her knees together for a moment and then pointed to the tube of jelly. I handed it to her and she squeezed out a dollop onto the fingers of her right hand.
Leaning back she spread her legs for me and left them open for at least a full minute, giving me a perfect view of her perfect pussy. She shaved her vulva and the only pubic hair was a little triangle at the top of her slit. I stopped stroking myself for fear of ejaculating.
She knew the affect she had on me and smiled, never missing either a verb or an adjective in the telling of her story.
She leaned back, slid down a little on the chair seat, spread her legs even further apart and applied the jelly. When it was well distributed she slid first one, then two fingers into her beautiful pussy, and together we pleasured ourselves as she finished her story.
As she approached orgasm in her story, we approached orgasm in my living room. When she came in the story I came on the couch, shooting four strong ropes of cum about two feet into the air, to land on my stomach and chest. I groaned with pleasure, watching her reaction carefully.
Joie watched with wide eyes and put extra pressure on her clit. Within seconds she, too, climaxed. Squeezing her eyes shut she stiffened a bit and moaned, “OHHHHHH, OHHHHHH, OHHHH YEAH, OHHHH YEAH, OHhh yeah.”
We looked at each other for a long time and I then tossed the towel to her. She wiped the excess lube from her pussy, and then folded it clean side out and handed it back to me.
I wiped off my now semi-hard cock and then my torso.
“I’m going to get a drink, you want anything?”
“Yeah, being me what’s left of the wine.”
When I returned she had her panties and shorts back on, the chair had been returned to its original spot and she was maltepe escort sitting at the end of the couch. I handed her the wine, stepped into my own shorts and sat opposite her. We turned to face each other.
“Let me start,” she said. “That was incredible. I shocked myself. But it’s not like, you know, like…”
“Like we are going to be lovers?”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I love you and…”
I interrupted, “You love me like a brother, not like a man, is that what you mean.”
“And I am very happy to hear that, because I feel exactly the same way towards you. You are my sister, and I love you madly, but I have never thought of you as a lover. I respect you and your orientation, and I would never think of trying to impose myself on you.
“I do, however, think you are a total babe, an absolute hotty! Sister, lesbian, notwithstanding, you are one fine looking female and I appreciate the view, especially tonight’s view. You are incredibly sexy. Thank you for the show. That was a real surprise.”
“I’m a little confused myself,” she started. “I didn’t expect that to happen, at least to that extent. At first I thought I might just reach into my shorts and play with myself a little. But after a few minutes of watching you I got really hot. It wasn’t because I was enamoured with you penis or anything like that, it was because you were so erotic. You were enjoying yourself so much I suddenly wanted to join you, and I did.
“I liked it, too, and thank you for all the compliments. For a man, you’re really something. I’ve never spelled it out before, but I think you’re a hunk. I have always felt proud to be with you either in private or in public, and when I see people watching us, thinking we’re a couple, it always makes me kind of warm inside. I’m carrying on too much.”
The question had to be asked. “Are we going to do this again?”
“I don’t see why not. I’d never do it with a man, but with my brother it was fun. Yeah, I’ll do it again. But only to a real good story.” She had a huge grin on her face.
“Well, I won’t deny myself the opportunity to do it with another woman, and I’ll be delighted to try again with my sister.”
That was almost two years ago and during that time we have gotten together for dinner almost every Wednesday. We don’t masturbate for each other every week but we sure do more often than not. I even think some of the stories are sometimes more fiction than fact, but I don’t care.
About a month before my 30th birthday we we’re enjoying delivered pizza with some beer when Joie said, ‘No stories tonight. Sorry, but I have something more important to do.”
I was disappointed, but stories weren’t the only staple of our Wednesdays, sometimes we watched a video, or went out for dinner, or just talked about our week.
But I was curious, “Important as in…?”
“I am going to find out what type of women you really like.”
“You must be joking. After all my stories, you don’t know?”
“You tell me about the girls you date. Maybe you’re just shopping what’s there rather than actively searching for what you really want. I’m just doing research. It won’t hurt you to humor me.”
After the pizza was reduced to mostly left over sections of crust, she went into the second bedroom, which I had set up as a den, and booted my computer. I stayed behind to clean up our mess and was finishing when she called to me, “Any time.”
I want into the den and pulled a chair next to hers at my desk. She was looking at a sex site featuring a variety of links to pages of thumbs. “If you see any you like that I miss, just tell me.”
She was opening pages at a rapid pace; Babes posing, Stocking babes, lots of Lesbian pages, and lots of amateur pages. When she had opened about twenty she said, “Tell me which ones you like, use a 1 to 10 scale.”
As we went through the pages I would comment on the different women and give a quick rating. Every time I gave a girl a seven or above, Joie would click the thumb for a better look. Good thing I had DSL. This would have taken days with a modem.
Every now and then there would be a picture with the girl’s pussy or mouth stuffed with cock and Joie would mutter ‘yew.’ We both laughed every time. We searched through links for about an hour and then she announced she was ready to summarize. I don’t mind telling you I was getting pretty hot. I’d be jacking off in the shower tonight.
“Well, from what I can tell, you like girls with athletic bodies and full, firm breasts, or if not full, then at least firm. Any color of hair will do but you have a preference for blondes and redheads. You like pretty faces, but you picked out some ‘wholesome’ looking babes, too, gave them high points, too. I’m proud of you my brother. You like lingerie, mostly stockings and high-heels, but also anything that accents those boobs you like so much. I think I have enough to go on. Actually it’s kind of uncanny, we seem to like the same type pendik escort bayan of lady.”
She gave me a hug and a kiss, and left.
I took a shower and came buckets wondering what she was up to.
I asked her this question each of the three following Wednesdays but she only smiled and said, “You’ll see.”
The Wednesday before my birthday, she asked if we could eat out. I agreed, but rather than have me pick her up, like I usually did when we went out, she said she would meet me at the restaurant. This was very strange behavior. I was mystified.
Dinner was pleasant and she gave no hint of what was on her mind. After dinner we relaxed with an aperitif and she became serious.
“Remember my 18th birthday?”
How could I forget?
“That day you saved my life. Of course you didn’t know it at the time but your support was the only thing that kept me sane that day. That and your taking care of me for the next year while I got my feet on the ground and found some direction in my life. I can never thank you enough, but I want to do a little something special for you for your big ‘three-oh’.”
“Does this have anything to do with the Internet search a few weeks ago?”
“Of course it does and that’s all you’ll find out tonight. Next Wednesday, which is luckily your birthday eve, I am having a little party for you, at your place, 8:00 PM. Don’t be late, and you could dust a little more diligently on Tuesday, if you have a mind to.”
During my drive home my imagination went into orbit.
Time may fly when you’re having fun, but when you’re waiting to discover what your sexy sister has planned for your birthday, a week can seem like an eternity. No, I’m sorry. It can feel like two eternities.
Finally! Wednesday! I took the day off and cleaned the condo. I wondered about food, but Jodi had said she was doing the planning. I puttered around and finally went to a movie, trying to pass the time. Wednesday seemed as long as the whole week.
The doorbell rang at seven past eight. I answered wearing a light blue cotton broadcloth button-down shirt and a pair of lightweight, gray wool slacks. Polished black loafers finished what I hoped was an acceptable look.
Joie was the first through the door carrying a large platter of cold cuts. Next was a beautiful blond with what looked like a green salad and a bag of rolls. At first blush she was stunning. I would have ogled the blond but a tall, very large breasted brunette was following close behind. The brunette was carrying what looked like a cake box. Before I could offer to take it from her a redhead entered. She almost knocked my socks off. Her hair was a rich, dark auburn and her skin was milky white. She had the most intense green eyes. I was mesmerized.
“Hi,” she said, “I’m Jill, you must be Phil.”
Lost in her eyes I mumbled, “Yea, Phil, that, that’s me.”
They all laughed and Joie said, “I told you he wouldn’t be any different than the others.” Then to me, “Every guy reacts almost exactly like that when they first meet Jill. The hair and the eyes get ’em every time.
“Let’s get this stuff into the kitchen and then I’ll make the introductions.”
After a quick round trip to the kitchen by the women, Joie indicated the blond and said, “This is Pamela, Pam. Pam and I work for the same company, but in different departments.
Pam was about 5′ 5″ and looked up at me when we shook hands, then she gave me a little hug and said, “Happy Birthday.” She squeezed a little tighter than necessary, pushing her breasts into my chest. It felt great.
She was beautiful, dressed all in black silk, her skirt ended at mid thigh showing great legs accented by her heels and hose. Her body was well proportioned and her legs were well muscled. Her breasts were full and large. Full marks for Joie.
We looked each other over carefully and I blushed a little.
“Don’t feel like your meat on the rack brother. Say hello to Liz.” She was directing her arm toward the brunette.
Liz was taller, almost as tall as I. She was wearing an electric blue blouse and matching skirt. Like Pam’s, it came only to mid thigh and because of her height allowed her to display a pair of legs that seemed to go on forever. Her stockings and shoes matched her outfit.
We looked at each other eye to eye as we, too, shook hands and then hugged. Her breasts were huge, maybe a DD cup and her blouse was cut low showing a lot of cleavage. She put her arms around my neck and pulled into me, whispering ‘Happy Birthday, Tiger’ into my ear.
When we broke the embrace Joie looked at Jill and said, “And of course, you’ve already met Jill.” She was grinning.
Jill, who was about 5′ 7″ to my 6′ was wearing a dark green, leather dress that must have been made for her. The bodice was cut low, showing the tops of her large, full breasts, then tapered to her slim waist. Her hips were narrow, almost boyish, and her legs, covered with light green stockings, were slender and, to me, perfectly shaped. Her dress came down barely six inches below her tush, allowing me to make very conclusive judgements about her legs.
As I turned toward her to shake hands she took two quick steps, jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips.