1 comments/ 23908 views/ 2 favorites Sissy's Revenge Ch. 01 By: Man4Living This is a two-part story. The first part was previously submitted as Hide and Peek, but ran into problems although essentially a true story. I have taken critical comments on board and taken the opportunity to refresh some of the dialogue. All characters involved in sexual activity in the story are over 18. ~~~~ After all these years I still get palpitations at the consequences had I been caught. It was the 'Sixties, just before nudity had been invented. Women wore dresses and skirts below the knee, and the miniskirt hadn't yet been conceived. Worse, my family were Irish Catholics. Strict. I hadn't actually warned that I might go blind ... but then again, Dad would often say, "Keep your body sacred until you get married. You never know you might still find a vocation." I doubted there was a spare vocation hiding down the back of the sofa, and the chances of me not liking girls sufficiently to remain celibate were lower than the ... well, perhaps I shouldn't go there with the tasteless papal jokes. There was still worse: we lived in the about-to-be swinging England, in the London suburbs. The fall-out from mini-skirts, free love, and swinging would hit the suburbs very soon after their explosion from the epicentre - Chelsea. My team, by the way, a fine bunch of lads. Growing up and chastity were painful experiences. Puberty hit me very young but the strictures of the Catechism and priestly warnings about fornication and self-abuse kept me chaste, physically. Mentally, I tried most nights to dream myself into an orgasm, but just couldn't seem to imagine the situation accurately enough to achieve anything worthwhile, what with my hands pinned to my side in bed and all. Then a wet dream would creep up on me in the morning before I was awake enough to enjoy it. You women think you have it hard, but what about the mental torture we men go through for the sake of abstinence. Anyway, to my story: it began innocently enough as a game on a warm and sunny Sunday afternoon. I was home from uni and which had rent old gang asunder. I had no mates to hang around with so I was kicking my heels at home. "You might as well make yourself useful," said Ma, "and keep an eye on Little Evey whilst I get on with the laundry." Ma's brother, Uncle Jim, had deposited said kiddie with her so he could go fishing with my Dad. Little Evey was five and, frankly, a pain in the ass to look after. Now, as a member of a large family -- obviously -- I am used to having children around, and even don't mind looking after them as a rule, Evey was simply a pain even to stay in the same room with. I sighed but dutifully applied myself to occupying my somewhat dim-witted but garrulous cousin. "Let's play hide and seek," she suggested. It suited me because it usually took her an eternity to find anyone in even the most obvious of places. Meanwhile I could fantasise in the comfort of my hiding place; maybe being James Bond, bedding a bevy of gorgeous femme fatales. I had seen Dr No and From Russia With Love and now my imagination had free reign. "OK, count to ten." I said, then reflected. "No, make that twenty." That should occupy her for a while just recalling the necessary numbers, and not necessarily in the right order! I grabbed a rolled-up sheet of black scrap book paper near at hand for a makeshift pea-shooter, and some discarded necklace beads. I could take pot shots at Little Evey from my hiding place if she hadn't yet spotted me. It all added to the fun and was compensation for the chore of minding the little sweetie. I guess I'm not making a very favourable impression here, but there had to be some entertainment for me out of this duty. "I'm off to look for a hiding place in the garden," I added helpfully. I was guilty of mis-direction too, as I headed noiselessly up the stairs. I might seem heartless but the truth was I was sick of being dumped on time after to time to babysit my cousin. Home was a three-bedroomed semi, with limited scope for concealment. At the head of the stairs, I took stock of my options. To my left was the bathroom. Ahead of me was Sissy's bedroom. To the right was Mom and Dad's room. The bed room I had once shared with my older brother was further right at the end of the landing. I should add that by this time we had lost some casualties amongst my older siblings to marriage and the seminary. I counted going to university as perverse, divine intervention. He who knew all and saw all (what a thought!) knew I wasn't cut out for celibacy. Sissy's bedroom door was open. Sissy was 20 and her room was Out Of Bounds, but she'd left the door open that day so her room seemed fair game for my purposes on this occasion. Sissy would be out with her boyfriend, as she was most Sunday afternoons, and wouldn't be back until about nine o'clock. I entered the room and studied the lay of the land. Window to the left beyond the bed -- check. Sissy had left the curtains closed, and a diffused light from the sun through the thin curtain material cast various areas of the room into soft light and shadow. Double bed in left hand corner beside the window -- check! Mirrored door wardrobe in opposite corner to the right -- check! Chest of drawers on the far side of the window to my left -- check! The wardrobe was the obvious choice, but I had read 'The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe' and didn't fancy a trip to Narnia that day. I preferred it warm. I dived under the bed, reasoning that it would be in relatively deep shadow. The bed had an iron sprung sub-frame which hung low. I had had great fun Illicitly trampolining on it in my younger days when the door had been left invitingly ajar. I lay on my stomach in the very limited space and waited quietly, listening for any evidence that Little Evey might have exhausted all possibilities for concealment in the garden. I reflected with some satisfaction that the heavily rusted bolt on the shed door should occupy her puny hands for a while. In the confined space I could hear the amplified sound of my own breathing, and the occasional rumbling in my stomach. I hoped Little Evey wouldn't track me down from the sound if she came into the bedroom. I listened for any extraneous sound. From behind me, the other side of the bedroom wall, I heard the unexpected, muted sound of glugging. It was the unmistakable sound of residual bath water making its noisy evacuation down the plughole. I knew my older brother was out, Dad was fishing. Ma was doing the laundry downstairs, and dear Little Evey should still be engaged on her assignment in the garden. That meant by my powers of deduction ... it had to be Sissy! As if to confirm my theory, the sound of the bathroom door opening was quickly followed by footsteps entering the bedroom. The bedroom door shut with a slam. I guessed she had entered the room wrapped up in her towel as she usually did after her bath. I was trapped in Sissy's room, under her bed with my sister potentially standing there with next-to-nothing on. Might she discover me? What should I do? What followed was a rapid evaluation of the ethics and risks of my predicament. Thoughts and counter-thinks zapped about in my brain, but could be analysed down to two essential issues: (a) I was concealed under my bigger sister's bed, knowingly (or so the Prosecution would assert) whilst she was in the bathroom. This would be hard to explain. (b) I should immediately alert Sissy to my accidental presence before she lets the towel drop. I would of course explain the circumstances and apologise profusely for any embarrassment it might cause her. Events overcame me, though. I saw the towel drop on the floor by the edge of the bed, but to one side. It was too late for option (a). However I tried to explain, Sissy would be naked when I alerted her. I had just one option left. Lie low and keep quiet, and hope that eventually Sissy would go away. Being concealed in her bedroom with my naked sister close by was a situation I had fantasised about many times but would never have had the courage to act on. Sissy was full bodied for her age, but not fat. She had a generous bust and broad hips with a small waist. I had seen her in her swimsuit on holidays and imagined how she would look naked. She excited me physically, but the sensation simultaneously appalled me because of my conditioning. ~~~ When my big brother left home I had the room to myself. A box room, to be precise, not room to swing a cat, which would have been cruel anyway; and rather cramped by our old bunk beds. I had spied on Sissy in the past from my top bunk through the crack in the top of the partly opened bedroom door when I was in bed and she was leaving the bathroom. She had last winter got into the habit of warming her towel on the radiator outside the bath room door. She would open the door a crack and look to see the coast was clear before reaching out a long arm to quickly grab the towel and shut the door again. I was usually lucky to get a peep at half a breast at most because her body was mostly hidden behind the door. Once I had devised a plan to get her to show more of herself. One time she used a towel which was fraying at the sides. Whilst she was in the bath I crept up to the door and wound frayed threads around the radiator thermostat valve. A quick tug confirmed it was secured. I retreated back to my bunk bed to watch the floor show. After an eternity I finally heard her unlock the bathroom door and peek out. Satisfied the coast was clear, she reached out for the towel and tugged. It snagged on the trapped threads. Sissy tugged a few times to no avail. I waited with bated breath. Slowly she emerged further from behind the door and, with a quick check around the landing, she stepped out naked and wet, to investigate what was trapping the towel. I would like to report that I enjoyed the free show as she struggled to wrench the towel free from the radiator valve. Certainly I remember her being naked, and her breasts dangling and swaying as she bent forward to investigate the problem. But it was all too quick for me to memorise what I was seeing. Sadly, she diagnosed the problem and disengaged the threads with clinical efficiency and retrieved the towel within seconds. Wrapping it around her, her eyes alighted on the partly open door of my bedroom. She seemed to look straight at the crack in the top of the doorway behind which I hoped I was hidden from view. Then she retreated back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut with exceptional ferocity, which I thought was inconsiderate ... she could have woken me up - if I'd been asleep! Later, I couldn't recall in pictorial detail what I had seen. It had all been a waste of time. ~~~ Now, I looked around me as best I could in the confined space under the bed. No shoes or slippers near me ... good, so maybe she wouldn't need to search under the bed for anything. As long as I kept quiet, maybe I could tough it out until she had dressed and gone out. I listened for any sound which might tell me what she was doing. All I could hear at first was a loud and insistent thumping in my ears. Was it music, no it was pounding in my ears from my heart beat. Boom, boom, boom. I swear I thought it must be reverberating through the floor boards, like a gong beating on a kettledrum. Then I heard Sissy speaking to herself. She was apparently conversing with an imaginary admirer - I assumed that was it because I would have noticed if the bed room had been occupied when I entered it. I froze. Had she rumbled me? It wasn't her natural voice -- more a sort of language and intonation of a Jane Austen type of character. This was doubly embarrassing: being under sissy's bed and witnessing her fantasies. Sissy was 'going out' and engaged, but not yet married. I assumed she was still a virgin as well, but what did I know? Her playful tone indicated that this was a well-worn fantasy which Sissy was playing out potentially before my very eyes ... if only I could catch a peek! She sounded like she was feigning surprise at his presence. She didn't know the half of it! As I peered out of the shadow, her firm, shapely calves were moving away from the end of the bed towards the wardrobe. I had to see more. But what if she spied me? Was the underside of the bed sufficiently dark to conceal me? "What do you think of my ... neck?" Sissy was seeking her invisible interloper's approval. I gingerly eased my body forward by degrees so that I could see progressively more of Sissy beyond the underside edge of the bed frame. I couldn't quite stretch enough to see her neck. What I did see, though, stunned me bodily like an electric shock. I gasped involuntarily at a sight I had never dared to hope for as my eyes swept up Sissy's legs and lower body. Slender calves led up to the firm backs of her thighs, then up to a firm rounded bottom. She was alternately dipping one knee then the other, causing her bottom to sway seductively from side to side. I was transfixed by the delicious sight as she supposedly sought her voyeur's appreciation of her .... neck? I could stay in that position and just enjoy the vision of her rear lower half and remain safely hidden in the shadows. But I wanted to see it all. I reflected: if I move further to improve the angle of my vision, Sissy might spot the whiteness of my face, reflected in the muted light through the closed curtains. I must retreat to find some camouflage. On the presumption that something black was less likely to be seen than something Caucasian white, I decided to fashion a makeshift mask from the black paper. It wasn't likely to see service as pea shooter now, anyway. I eased backwards further into the cramped and gloomy netherworld under the bed and searched with my hands for the would-be instrument of torture. I located it and unrolled it whilst listening to Sissy continuing her conversation. "Why thank you; (slight pause) .. and my shoulders?" Her admirer would seem to be making slow progress in the sweep of his eyes over Sissy's naked body. I suspected that he had in fact long ago given up waiting for her permission and concentrated his gaze further south. I folded and creased the large scrapbook paper in two, length ways. The longer portion would sit on top of my head and the shorter piece would cover my forehead and eyes. I pinched out two peep holes for my eyes and tested the serviceability of my makeshift mask. With one hand holding the sheet of paper in place on top of my head, I gently eased myself forward again until I could once again see out and upwards at my naked elder sister. Sissy was sighing with gratification as she continued her questions, " And my beautiful, pear-shaped hips?" I peered further up and saw her elbows moving as she slowly caressed down the sides of her hips. Sensuously, she continued to sway. I could just make out the side of her fulsomely heavy but firm left breast before she moved her hand onto it. The commentary had ended. Now Sissy had switched off that fantasy and moved to her main agenda. She stopped swaying, opened her legs and stiffened her bottom as she leant towards the mirror thrusting out her bust. I gazed up adoringly at my first ever close-up view of a real pussy from the rear. Sissy had very generous folds of skin either side of her vaginal slit and a crease which ran up between her cheeks to the pleated indentation of her anus. It was firmly shut, but I had a sudden urge to reach out and touch it. I was highly aroused. I promised to say ten Hail Mary's later. Now for the first time I noticed the discomfort of my hardened penis pushing down painfully against my shorts on the floor. The extension of my burgeoning manhood was lifting my youthful groin off the floor in a sort of penile press-up. Comfortable, it was not. Nature hadn't designed it for that purpose. I had to relax it. Jamming my head up against the underside of the bed springs to jam my mask in place I worked at unzipping my flies and easing out my prick from my pants; difficult in that confined space, particularly when one is trying to do it quietly. My engorged and throbbing penis pushed eagerly forward against my belly inside my tee shirt. I could now concentrate again on the tableau being played out by Sissy. She had returned to her fantasy -- probably because she did not know how to develop the action as a virgin (?) "Aren't they a handful?" she giggled girlishly as she gently pushed and squeezed her breasts for her admirer's inspection. I could barely make out from behind her back what she was doing with her hands, but I guessed from her elbow movements that she was pushing them together to accentuate her cleavage. Sissy's performance was over-stimulating me and I became aware that I was absent-mindedly rocking my belly backwards and forwards against my erect penis to stimulate it further. I risked giving it carpet burns, which would have been difficult to explain to a doctor, but not something I was thinking clearly about at that point. Show him your bottom, I urged Sissy mentally, so that she would turn round and give me a view of the sight she had been offering to her admirer in the mirror. She wasn't receiving my mental suggestion though and she continued to knead her breasts for what seemed like an inordinately long time. She obviously thought they were her best feature, worthy of a prolonged study. Finally her right elbow dropped, as I guess her concealed right hand caressed its way down her belly. As it reached her brown curly pubes, Sissy stuck out her ass and bent forward at her waist. Her pussy was now more clearly visible to me from between her parted cheeks. The sun had found a crack in the closed curtains and was performing the role of a spotlight magnificently. Her pussy was just a few feet away from my eyes. I admired it's closed up pear shape compressed between her upper thighs. It was close enough for me to reach out and touch it, but of course I didn't. Then Sissy arched her back and stood further apart to make room for her fingers between her thighs. She began rubbing back and forwards against her pussy, pushing apart her pussy lips. She had forgotten all about her imaginary admirer's presence again and was now following instinct in pleasuring herself. I was sure Sissy was still a virgin, although I was by no means an expert yet on sexual matters, or rather, I was an expert at still being a virgin myself. I mentally remembered to say ten Hail Marys for Sissy, too: it was the least I could do in the circumstances! Sissy's masturbating slowed and became more specifically targeted. Now she was using only her finger tips to play with a burgeoning growth at the top of her parting pussy lips, which I knew from Biology lessons to be a clitoris. As I watched, fascinated, imagining my prick thrusting in and out of that pussy, I saw glistening juices forming on her pussy lips. This monumental experience was the start of my real sex education, there is no substitute after all for seeing the real thing. Somehow, line drawings in text book don't cut it. Finally she seemed to respond to my mental suggestion and swivelled round to observe her rear view in the mirror. Facing me now, with her head looking backwards over her left shoulder into the mirror, I could concentrate my attention fully on the fabulous sight of her pendulous breasts, now dangling tantalisingly a few feet from me, and her fingers massaging her clit. Suddenly, she was looking straight into my eyes. Had she seen me despite the shadow under the bed? After a few moments more masturbation she withdrew her fingers and straightened her body. She began to scrutinise her bottom closely in the mirror, stretching her torso to improve the line of her profile, lifting her cheeks and checking them out from various angles. She stretched her body and admired it from every angle. I guessed the performance would soon be drawing to a close so I memorised what I could of the sight of every inch of her front, and particularly the upwards view of those large, firm breasts. I found myself quietly panting now as my excitement began to climax. Almost without noticing I had grasped my prick in my right hand and was pumping it vigorously as I imagined myself pushing it in and out of that fabulous, dripping pussy. I hoped that I had not made a sound. Sissy's Revenge Ch. 01 This was a day of many firsts for me, including my inaugural bout of self abuse. I was to regret it later, though, from the subsequent pain of my red raw penis. I gave no thought to the mortal sin I was committing, nor the discomforting friction to which my penis was not yet accustomed. All of my Catholic conditioning was jettisoned in that moment as I climaxed and experienced my first orgasm and expellation of sperm. Just as the choir of jubilant celebrants in my mind sung a hymn of exultation at the dawning of my manhood, my world suddenly exploded. The blow on the back of my head stunned me with its sudden impact. As my senses slowly returned, I heard Sissy above me laughing. I guess she had thrown herself bodily onto the bed above me, causing the springs to thump down on my head as they absorbed the falling impact of her gloriously naked body. Almost at the same time there came a muffled, wailing cry from the other side of the closed bedroom door. "Derek, where are you?" There was a very heavy emphasis on the 'are'. It was Little Evey who had obviously failed to discover my hiding place and was petulantly giving vent to her frustration. The question was followed by angry whimpering as she gave up the search and retreated down the stairs. I held my breath, listening intently for any evidence that Sissy had discovered my hiding place just inches below her naked body. I held my now flaccid penis in my right hand as sticky semen seemingly spread everywhere underneath and on me. Mental note: sponge the carpet if you can, when the coast is clear. "Derek, where are you?" came Ma's voice. Apparently Little Evey had enlisted Ma's help in finding me. I was now less concerned at Sissy discovering me, since I suspected she might already have done so. Now I was more worried about Mum somehow discovering where I was. Sissy hadn't so far given any indication of discovery or distress. Might she be savouring the triumphal pleasure of my entrapment under her bed? Or had I indeed remained undiscovered? (Cue the 'X' Files musical motif). I listened to the distant sounds from beyond the door as Ma and Little Evey searched and called my name, I barely allowed myself to breathe lest I give myself away. Finally I heard Mum declare "He must have gone out." I breathed a silent sigh. I wondered what repercussions there might be from me apparently going AWOL. Then there was the more intriguing question of whether Sissy was aware of me concealed under her bed, and what future retribution she might exact on me. For the moment she apparently played it cool and went about her task of powdering, perfuming, and dressing in endless layers of clothing for what seemed forever. All the time my heart pounded, whether from fear of exposure or the after-shock of my seismic orgasm, I shall never know. One thing I do know: the eternity I spent under the bed after Sissy's exhibition afforded me plenty of time for guilt and recrimination, but I can't deny it was a terrific experience. Sissy's Revenge Ch. 02 If you don't read chapter 1 you won't know why Sissy should seek revenge. This story takes time to develop but, shall we say, it builds to a climax? ~~~~ I was back home from university again, and home alone. Dad and Mum had gone on a 15 day cruise. Woohoo!. Sissy had got married. I had the house to myself. Sheer heaven. I had absolute freedom, to do nothing. Sadly, I was between girlfriends, and hadn't yet got much beyond second base with girls anyway. Maybe it was my conditioning kicking in when I got close to losing my virginity, or worse, taking anyone else's. I would always pull back, leaving both parties dissatisfied. Still, there were good books I could read, whilst immersing myself in loud music, like The Beatles, Stones and The Who. The neighbours could go hang if they complained. This was the mid Sixties after all. Pop music was meant to be played loudly. I lounged on the sofa, relaxing. The throbbing music was making me horny and I pushed my hand down my shorts to fondle my swelling member. Then I heard a voice. Sissy! Shit, she had kept her key! I hadn't seen her for nearly a year and was surprised at the transformation. Gone was the rock 'n roll flared dress and low heels. Now Sissy sported a tight miniskirt which showed most of her thighs, and white, knee-high plastic boots. Despite it being high summer she wore a shaggy, sleeveless, afghan jacket, and low cut sleeveless tee shirt underneath. As she stood in the middle of the living room, gesticulating and giving vent to her anger at Rob, her chest heaved and her obviously unrestrained breasts beneath the tee shirt wobbled. Her captive audience sat trying to look interested at her diatribe whilst in fact trying to imagine those 36D breasts uncovered. She was having marital problems, she explained. Rob was a control freak and a bully and she had walked out on him. "I can use my old room; Mum and Dad wouldn't mind," she declared. She didn't ask whether or not I minded. I couldn't believe it. My first night of yearned-for solitude, and Sissy turns up! She was twenty three and knew just how to boss me about. Sissy had always been aloof. We were never close. I had lusted after my older sister's body as any fertile adolescent boy would, but only in my dreams, and in the absence of any real experience. Now she was back and taking over again. On that first evening, she cooked us a meal and sank the best part of a bottle of vodka she had brought with her, whilst confiding in me some of the horrors of married life. She had never admitted to Dad that he had been right about Rob, and would probably not have wanted to give Dad the satisfaction of knowing it had all gone sour. So she confided in me under the stricture that I never breathe a word. "Nothing I do or say ever leaves this room, OK?" I nodded, more in fear than conspiratorially. Sissy could pack a punch if she wanted to and I would never hit a woman, even if she was my sister. "You hear? What you hear in this room stays in this room," she demanded, menacingly, then continued. "If there's one thing that bastard Rob did for me, it was to teach me to stand up for myself and go for what I want – only he didn't intend me to pluck up the courage to walk out." As her words became slurred and her sentences got progressively fragmented, she let slip that at least the sex was good. "Boy, what an education that was," she exclaimed. Our protective Catholic upbringing had shielded us from the facts of life, so I guess Sissy had got a baptism of fire from Rob that she wasn't prepared for. "How's your sex education coming?" she slurred, "Fucked anyone yet? Or are you still a virgin?" I didn't answer; I was shocked at her new-found forwardness and her language. It was also a highly embarrassing subject because sex was never far from my thoughts. It had just not yet been consummated. "I'm going to bed; you do the dishes," she ordered as she stumbled out of the room, leaving me to reflect on this very transformed and angry Sissy. The next few days were going to be hell. ~~~~ Next day was Saturday. Sissy hadn't stirred when I left for my summer vacation job. That evening, she had another meal ready. It was a warm evening so I dressed down in football shorts and tee shirt again and joined her for dinner. "Sorry about last night. Too much to drink. Having a night out with the girls this evening. Have you anything planned?" I was ashamed to admit that I hadn't. "What's a nice boy like you doing stuck in the house when there's a world of women crying out for attention from someone they can respect in the morning?" I wasn't sure whether that was meant to be compliment, ironic or sarcastic. I had no answer. Sissy went off to have a bath. I stretched out on the sofa with a good book and some Rubber Soul on the stereogram, turned up loud. Sissy came in, with a towel wrapped around her body and another on her head like a turban; ironing board in hand. "Mind if I iron a dress?" she asked, rhetorically. She didn't care whether I minded or not. She set up the ironing board with a loud clatter in the middle of the room. She left but was soon back again with her chosen outfit for her night out with the girls and a handful of pots of nail varnish. "Mind if I switch on the telly?". I decided this question merited a reply. "Yes I do mind," I stated firmly, closely followed by "sorry, but I'm reading." Damn, that was a show of weakness, apologising when I had the moral high ground. "Please yourself." She set about ironing, but soon got into the mood of the music, swaying her hips as she ironed. I was distracted from my book by her gyrations, and I couldn't help noticing glimpses of the backs of her upper thighs as she bent over the ironing board. There was an occasional hint of her lower butt cheeks too as the rear hem of her towel rose and fell to her dancing. We had never been close growing up and she had never been this informal in front of me before she left home to get married. Her body transfixed me. She had often mentioned that she had a 36", 24", 36" figure – classic for the Sixties – with a 36D bust. She seemed neither overweight nor too thin, and every part of her body was in proportion – a quality I was for ever more to seek in other women. I had to remind myself this was my older sister, and that it probably wasn't right to ogle her like this. Fair do when I caught a glimpse accidentally, but not like this. She left the room with ironing board and freshly-pressed dress, to get ready to go out. I relaxed back into the music but with a hard-on now. My big sister had reminded me of what I was missing, and now I couldn't concentrate on the music. Absent-mindedly, I stroked my erect member which was poking out of the left leg of my shorts. "Can you come up here a minute!" Sissy's voice was commanding – not a request. She knew me well, and knew that I would follow her orders. That was they way we'd been brought up. I hauled myself off the sofa and up the stairs. Sissy was on the landing outside her old bedroom, pushing vainly on the door which seemed to be firmly wedged shut. "It's the ironing board. It's fallen down against the door." "What were you doing with it in the bedroom?" I enquired. "Ironing my smalls," she replied tartly, "out of your prurient eyesight!" Who irons their underwear? I mused to myself, but thought it best not to ask out loud. For a night out with the girls? Did she expect to get that lucky? "Let me see," I said. Little brother shows his command of the situation in a crisis. Sissy was now just a helpless female needing a man's assistance. Lying down in front of the barely ajar bedroom door I pushed my arm through the gap and felt around to investigate the situation. My hand immediately found a metal leg of the ironing board and I attempted to lift it up and away from the door. It rose but it wouldn't move away from the door. I guessed this was because of the rubber feet which were jammed against the wallpaper. I rolled over and looked up at Sissy standing above me, still in her bath towel, to explain the situation. I was involuntarily staring up her legs and into the dark void under her towel. She snorted and moved back away from my line of sight. Fine! I'm only trying to help and Sissy makes me out to be a pervert! Professing to be oblivious to her recent, compromising position, I sat up and explained the physics of the problem. Sissy didn't seem to understand and just moaned and wrung her hands together. "I shall be late. The girls will wonder where I am." "Not to worry," I said reassuringly and headed downstairs to the shed to fetch suitable implements to lever the ironing board away from the other side of the bedroom door. I came back with a long thin piece of timber and a broom stick. This would be a two-man job. I just hoped Sissy was 'man' enough for the task. (Ladies, grind your teeth if you will, but this was the Sixties, after all.) I proposed that she should push the broom stick through the crack between the partially open door and the frame and lift the board away from the wall whilst I attempted to push it backwards. She stood and manoeuvred the broom stick whilst I lay on my belly and poked at it with the timber batten. Several times we managed to lift it, and moved it slightly before it fell back with a clang. "Let me stretch and see if I can feel where it is now," I suggested and turned onto my back to thrust my arm as far as I could through the crack in the doorway. I found the unseen metal frame of the ironing board with my hand and lifted it upwards. It seemed to move a bit but the angle was so acute that I could not sustain its weight long enough. I tried again several times, all the time keeping up a commentary for Sissy on my progress. Sissy got more involved with my trial of strength with each successive heave and moved in closer to listen for the sound of the movements the other side of the door. Now she was intensely interested. I looked up to see her straddling my prone body whilst she peered through the crack in the doorway which had now widened. Moreover, I could now see straight up her towel to her pussy. With an apt choice of words I suggested, "One more thrust, Sissy," I heaved with all my strength, she pushed with her broom handle, and there came a crashing sound from beyond the door as the ironing board finally capitulated. The door swung open, with Sissy leaning against it. She laughed almost hysterically with relief, pitched forward, and landed on her knees, across my upper arms. The shock of her fall must have temporarily stunned her because she seemed oblivious to me lying prone, facing upwards beneath her. In fact, her knees were pinning me down. First thing, I felt pain in my arms. Second, I smelt her crotch land felt the warm heat of her loins suspended a few inches above my face. Sissy looked down at me. I looked up at her, or at any rate, what was staring me in the face. I thought she might scream or rage at me for ending up in this compromising position. She did neither. After a brief pause, she laughed, then rubbed her crotch up and down my face. She presumably wanted to see the expression on my face so stood up to inspect it from a distance. Somehow her body parted company with its towel – or did she deliberately let it fall away from her body? I was stunned at what I now saw, my astonishment showing on my face. Sissy stood towering above me now, naked but for the towel on her head. For what seemed an eternity she studied my expression. I could only guess what she was thinking. I made the first move. My hand moved down to touch my instant erection through the material of my shorts. Sissy continued to regard me, perhaps sizing up the situation. I gazed up at her naked body straddling me at face level. For the first time, I looked up her torso to her magnificent breasts, rising and falling as she breathed quickly and continued to stare down at me. Was she angry, embarrassed, or turned on? I wasn't sure. Finally she moved. Her eyes swept down my arm to my hand, then to the exposed tip of my erect penis pushing out below the hem of my shorts. She looked at it, then stepped backwards and placed a raised foot on my upper leg. Slowly and very deliberately, she stroked her big toe up my thigh towards the exposed tip of my penis. I too was breathing heavily now in anticipation of I knew not what, but it was definitely arousing. I wanted to seize my penis and stroke it vigorously to the accompaniment of the sexy display of Sissy's naked body towering above me, but I resisted for fear that Sissy would interrupt this erotic moment and cover herself. Finally, Sissy spoke. "So, little brother, you want to play games with Big Sis? Now it's my turn to look at yours." Nothing was further from my mind than games with my big sister. I had no plans, nor desires other than an immediate one of enjoying her unanticipated nakedness. I stared up into Sissy's eyes trying to guess her thoughts. She quickly dropped to her knees, kneeling now on my lower legs, and reached for the waist band of my shorts. I realised what she was about to do. I could have stopped her. But I didn't want to. I didn't want this experience to end, despite the passing brutality of her knees on my upper arms. "You know we can't fuck," she stated matter-of-factly, as she wrenched my shorts down my legs and off my feet. "But we can play. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I didn't answer, since the question didn't need a reply. We both knew what I wanted, but I was no clearer than before about Sissy's intentions. She moved onto her haunches to release my arms so that she could yank off my tee shirt in h one deft movement. I helped by raising my arms; it also helped to restore their circulation. . Now I was lying naked on the landing staring up at Sissy who was squatting on her haunches, also naked, with my balls pressed hard up against her crotch, and my erect penis pointing upwards on her belly. This all felt to be happening far too quickly. Moments before I was seeing my big sister's private parts fully exposed and close up for the first time, and now she had her knees spread wide, pushing her exposed crotch against my straining member. She pushed her body up and down, causing her pussy to rub up and down my shaft. I felt her warm wetness. I knew this was wrong. Brother and Sister shouldn't do this sort of thing, and I was also still a virgin. But my senses were reeling with the overwhelming overload of sensations of arousal and desire she was kindling in me, and I yielded happily and entirely to this moment. Sissy stopped her movements and shifted down my body until her head was in line with my penis. I looked her fully in the eyes and she returned my gaze as she grasped my penis in her right hand and guided it into her mouth. I gasped with surprise as she pushed down my foreskin. It was tender, hardly used (abused?) and every touch of my engorged penis head felt a hundred times more intense than any sensation any other part of my body had sensed before. Sissy gently sucked down on my shaft, staring intently into my eyes. She stopped and withdrew her mouth. "You see how pleasant the tongue can feel?" That was a clue. With that, she dismounted and turned her body around to re-straddle me with her bottom directly above my face, soixante-neuf fashion. I felt like in a dream as I saw her spread pussy descend towards me and I stuck out my tongue instinctively, ready to connect with the advancing labial lips. I searched around with my tongue for the opening and eventually found it and licked along the edges. I was desperately searching my brain, recalling my biology lessons about the female vagina and clitoris. My tongue searched for Sissy's clit. As if sensing what I sought, she adjusted the position of her hips to guide my tongue into her Nirvana, then and pushed gently down against my face. My first real sexual encounter was not to be a furtive grope with an equally untutored teen as I had expected, but a full-on, advanced encounter with my vastly more experienced big sister's pussy! I could hear Sissy moaning as she gently sucked and licked the head of my shaft. I wondered if she got off on sucking penises, but was soon put right on that score. She was enjoying my fumbling efforts. I pushed her bottom up a little to give myself room to breathe, then pushed first one finger then two into her pussy. I felt a bone under my finger inside her as I pushed into her. Theoretical biology this was not! She immediately released my penis, groaned louder and leant up on her hands to savour the sensations coursing through her body as I rapidly fingered her vagina. "Yes, yes," she cried as she began to rock back and forwards on her knees, thrusting against my fingers inside her. Then she gasped loudly several times and I felt her body shudder, and more wetness dripping around my fuck fingers . Then with a final sigh she collapsed forward to drop her face between my lower legs, her pussy facing me on my chest. Clearly, I was a natural; no fumbling first encounter for me. I lay there looking at her taut, spread bottom, my own orgasm unrequited. I eased myself backwards; out from under her prostrate form. I was disappointed not to have her pleasure reciprocated. Sissy rolled over onto her back and stretched out her legs. Was that to be it? I wanted more. For a moment I took stock of this weird situation. We were lying naked on the upstairs landing carpet, Sissy prone on her belly, and me sitting up staring at her prone form. In the quiet of Sissy's post-orgasmic relaxation, I reminded myself that this was my big sister. How had I let this happen? In truth, I didn't remember orchestrating any of this. Nevertheless, whilst Sissy recovered, I took the initiative and rolled her over, unprotesting, opnto her back. I knelt straddling either side of her hips. Her eyes were closed. I leant down and cupped a flaccid breast, cradling it up with my hands and caressing it. I dropped my head and sucked on the nipple, feeling it gently firm up in my mouth. Sissy opened her eyes and watched me. I moved to the other breast and did the same. My prize of fondling a breast was reward enough, but sensing her gaze, her acquiescence, aroused me all the more. She sighed. Satisfied with her response, I moved my right hand down between her legs and found her pussy once again. Slowly, I stroked the edge of her mound with my forefinger. She leant up on her elbows to watch and thrust her hips upwards in encouragement. Taking this as consent and without considering the consequences, I grasped my still rigid penis and guided it towards her vagina. As I pressed the head against her opening she quickly jerked her body back and away from me. "No, little brother, you can't go in there." She scrambled to her feet and looked down on me as I looked up searchingly at her. "Follow me," she commanded. She propelled me into the bathroom and gestured me to step into the bath. I watched her as she pulled the shower head out of its bracket and tested the warmth of the water. Her full breasts jiggled as she leant over the bath and tested the water. Satisfied, she put the shower back in its bracket and stepped into the bath in front of me and pulled the shower curtain closed. As the hot water gushed down on us Sissy pushed me down into a sitting position and straddled me. I stared up at her, puzzled. "Watch me," she commanded. She massaged her breasts under the spray then soaped up and rinsed them to make them shine. Over and over again she massaged them and they flowed fluidly from side to side as she squished them with her palms. Then she raised a foot onto the side of the bath against the tiled wall and opened her legs to show me a close-up of her pussy. Slowly at first, then more vigorously, she rubbed herself into another orgasm with one hand whilst the other worked on her breasts. I watched transfixed as the hand finally dropped from her breasts as she gasped and convulsed with her climax. Sissy's Revenge Ch. 02 She was finished pleasuring herself now and she motioned me to make room in the bath for her to stand astride my waist. I lay back and awaited her next move. Almost at once I felt a warm stream of liquid spraying against my chest. It took me a moment to realise that Sissy was peeing on me. I should have been appalled at this lewd display, but I was turned on even more if that were possible by witnessing such an intimate act. I watched fascinated as the golden stream gushed out of her vagina in an almost randomly twisting fashion against my chest and face. There was something climactic about that gesture that I couldn't explain. Having exhausted her supply, Sissy reached for the shower head again and rinsed my body down. Then she motioned me to stand up. She soaped me down, first my chest, then my legs and back. She turned me back to face her and reached at last for my straining penis. With practised strokes she began to masturbate me. I needed little stimulation now, at last, but all the same I stared at Sissy's jiggling breasts as she jerked me off. Self abuse was nothing like this. My growing orgasm seemed to build deep inside my belly. Quickly but emphatically a surge of semen shot out of my prick and upwards, to splatter against Sissy's breasts and belly. She screamed delightedly at this tangible display of my climax. Then it was finally over. My sexual initiation - with my big sister. Wow, that was horny! I still had one more, final act to do. Pushing Sissy down into a sitting position, I could hardly believe I was about to repay her compliment. I held my still semi-stiff penis up towards Sissy's breasts and released my own generous stream of pee over her upper body. In my case, with the full force of a fire hose, I could hear the spatter of the golden stream battering her torso over the sound of the shower. She laughed delightedly and rubbed her breasts joyfully before standing up to rinse herself off. Had I just imagined all this, I pondered, as I reflected on the unimaginable pleasure for me of what we had just done? We stood facing each other and soaped each other's body all over once more, gratuitously exploring each other's naked flesh and contours. These are the moments I recall most clearly now. The water made Sissy's breasts and belly glisten, and she seemed the most perfectly sexy body in the world. . . When we had finished I held Sissy tightly against my body and felt my upturned penis once again throbbing against her belly. She stood relaxed and motionless as I felt her naked buttocks. I felt another orgasm building. Forcefully, I turned Sissy's body to face the tiles. She reached out instinctively to brace herself, back arched and bottom pushed out. Focussing on her taut, glistening butt cheeks, I barely stroked my penis before a stream of sperm shot out once more and splattered on Sissy's butt crack and lower back. She stood there passively as I rinsed her and myself off once more This had been the perfect day. We dried each other off and she led me to her bedroom. "This never happened, " she said, "and never will again." She sat cross legged on her bed facing me at first as she told me more about Rob's behaviour. Then about the sex. None of it was a patch on our recent intimacy, she explained, but it had led to her fantasising about the possibilities. "You just happened to be in the right place at the right time, kid," she announced matter of factly. I was her brother, though, so it couldn't go any further beyond that night, she explained. She asked where I had learnt to perform like that. I confessed that I had made it up as I went along, but she looked at me disbelievingly. "Oh brother," she exclaimed, "you're a natural. Go forth and copulate! Make the girls ecstatic" She lay back on the bed with her feet either side of my head and we continued to talk about all manner of things we had not dared to broach before, with an easier familiarity than ever before. The night out with the girls had been sacrificed for a therapeutic evening of passion, confession, and revelation. We lay there catching up on years of non-communication. It seemed so natural then, but my toes now curl at the recollection of what we did that evening. ~~~~ The first day of the autumn term, I initiated a conversation with Nancy, an older girl I had fancied at university the previous year, and asked her out. To my surprise, she agreed, and we hung out in a bar one evening, then at my digs the next. We started on the brandy and within minutes I had charmed Nancy out of all her clothes. I stared at her nakedness, an achievement I could put down to my newfound confidence and seduction technique. "I didn't realise you were so experienced with women," she observed. She was obviously no virgin herself. I studied her beautiful face, her rounded hips and large but firm young breasts. I licked and fingered her copiously, then penetrated a woman with my penis for the first time. As Nancy groaned and gasped with growing ecstasy I found to my disappointment that I was not enjoying this experience at first. Then I closed my eyes and imagined those big, bouncy breasts in my imagination, until I finally began to feel my onrushing climax as my mind fucked Sissy into oblivion. ~~~~ All comments welcomed, good, bad or indifferent. It's why I write.