THE SISTERS

The young girl knew she was the cause of my erection and was doing her best to enjoy it. Flaunting a half-naked tit at me. Coming out with remarks with a double meaning, one of course very suggestive. Touching my face and chest with slow, dragging fingertips. Brushing a casual hand over my crotch when no one was looking. And now the music had started with me caught in a corner between her, a wall, and the sofa.

The music was one of those tunes that start slow and turn into a heavy beat like that one from the movie Flashdance that exercise classes like to use. She exploited the long, slow introduction to mash her crotch against me, holding me in place by the hips and grinding slowly. When the tempo picked up, she changed her stance and her movement; with wide hips she banged her pelvis to mine again and again. If we hadn’t been sort of fully dressed, we could have been fucking. I couldn’t push her away. The only escape seemed to be an inelegant fall and dive over the back of the sofa. I quite seriously considered it.

But let’s go back to the beginning of sorts. It was a Thursday evening party, Jenny’s birthday party in fact. She turned twenty three and one of the girls with whom she shared the rent on a small house, her best friend Amy, had arranged this surprise party. Nothing fancy or formal; both girls were working and between steady fellows at the time. The guest list consisted basically of their common friends, fellow employees, and a number of single, unattached males who could be conscripted on the promise of free booze and a chance to get lucky. I was one of them; I’d gone out with Amy for a short time. Loretta, the third girl who shared the house, was away visiting family.

The party was good but not great. Most people knew some of the others at least casually. The surprise thing came off well. Booze and beer and wine flowed; people mingled and talked; finger food was passed around.

I had offered my best wishes to the birthday girl, chatted with Amy, of course, and swapped lies with a guy I’d gone to school with. He tried to impress me with his sales ideas but I wasn’t buying. I removed myself from his space.

Some sort of music had been playing in the back ground but someone changed it to dance tunes. And that was when the kid cornered me.

To be polite about it, she didn’t seem to fit. This bunch was pretty straight forward, employed, in their early to mid twenties. She looked well under eighteen. I watched her slink towards me like a jungle cat. Short black hair with a wide cobalt blue streak. Thick-soled Doc Martin calf-high boots. Pale naked legs and arms. A skirt that almost covered her ass with the side slit turned to the front to show brief flashes of underwear that matched the color in her hair.

The T-shirt she wore might have been white once. It was now covered by splashes of paint, esoteric symbols and inscriptions, probable food and bodily fluid stains. More than prominent was a tear from the right shoulder to just about the hem in the middle. Whenever it flapped it exposed what lay beneath. A well-formed right breast, of course. And no brassiere.

I don’t know how long she’d been there before she approached me, nor do I have any idea why she picked me. Her eyes seemed to stay locked to mine; her breast and undies flashed blatantly as she drew nearer. As I turned away from my unsuspecting schoolmate, she slid into the space that opened.

“You’re Matt.” It was not a question. I nodded.

“I’m a friend of Amy’s, I know Jenny through her, she invited me to the birthday party.”

The face before me sort of sneered. “Mickey. Jen’s kid sister.”

I took her at her word; I didn’t know Jenny well enough to be acquainted with her family. So, she has a kid sister. So, the kid sister seems to have a rebellious streak. And for some unknown reason, she’s here at this party. Probably uninvited.

She stepped into me, much closer than polite and somewhat uncomfortable, to tell the truth. I’m not the most outgoing guy but girls don’t usually scare me. This one almost did.

She hooked her left hand into the belt at my waist; no, the belt and waistband of my trousers. I could feel her fingers against the skin of my abdomen. What seemed to be a cunning grin played around the corners of her mouth. Calculating eyes remained fixed on mine as she seemed to make some sort of appraisal.

Uneasily I cleared my throat. “Hello, Mickey. Pleasure to meet you,” I lied.

She shrugged, didn’t take her eyes off my face. The movement exposed her breast, lovely and pale and round. My glance immediately dropped down, caught not only by that near perfection but also the gleam of a shiny miniature barbell that pierced the thick dark nipple. Her eyes remained focused on my face, saw the way my tongue licked at my lips in a nervous gesture. Her free hand slowly pulled the fabric back over the exposed breast, then slowly came up to touch my face.

“Like it?”

I couldn’t tell if she meant the breast or the piercing. I didn’t answer. She grinned at my evident embarrassment, then brazenly added to it.

“If you were the only finger in this room ...” she tapped the middle finger of her hand against my nose, “ who would you want to be stuck up?”

I tried to step away from her and realized just how cornered I was. She curved her body from her knees to her breasts against me, hot contact at chest, belly, groin.

“If you’re willing, I’m available.” She twisted slightly and again that breast was exposed. This time we both looked at it, the pale roundness, the hardness of that erect nipple, the glow of its chrome piercing. This time she made no move to cover herself.

“Let’s go somewhere and fuck.”

That’s when someone turned up the CD player and the Flashdance tune started. Both her hands grabbed my belt and the waistband of my trousers. I could feel her knuckles digging into my skin as she ground her pelvis slowly and forcefully against me. My genitalia reacted as could be expected. Then that forceful thumping beat began and her movement changed. No longer the round swirling motion; instead, a harsh physical banging together.

If we hadn’t been clothed, we would have been fucking our brains out in the corner of the room.

We did not go unnoticed.

My mind was so intent on escaping or alleviating this uninvited involvement that I could not say exactly what happened or how it happened. The space in front of me exploded into a whirling mass of noise and body parts. One moment later this instant storm had swiftly moved into the nearby bathroom. I could make out two female voices hurling insults and epithets and bodies stumbling or being pushed around in a confined space.

I looked at the other people in the room with me. They weren’t paying attention to what was happening in the bathroom; they were all watching me as if I was the prime mover of this drama.
Sheepishly I held out my hands and shrugged my shoulders. As discreetly as possible I edged out of the room, into the kitchen.

Epithets and occasional thuds still emanated from the bathroom. “Sleazy slut” and “two-faced whore” seemed to dominate the loud dispute.

Amy, our hostess, joined me in the kitchen and offered a reassuring touch.

“Sorry about that, Matt. I understand the family has been having some problems with Michelle. We didn’t expect her here; she never indicated any interest. We’ll just let Jenny take care of it, OK?” She wrapped me in a comforting hug, and for a moment I thought of the closeness we never did have together.

We stood there pretending to make conversation, but both of us were intent on the developments in the bathroom as we could hear and interpret them. The voices subsided to an occasional murmur. No one from the front of the house came back to the kitchen. I made drinks for both Amy and myself. Slowly things turned back to near normal. The two sisters vacated the bathroom. Amy led me back to the living room where the party continued, although slightly muted. Michelle (or Mickey as she had introduced herself to me) slouched on a corner of the sofa; most of the others tried to avoid her. Jenny, as the birthday girl, tried to be cheerful but her sister continued to glower at her.

Jenny seemed to be paying more attention to me than would be usual. I thought that she was either staking her claim to me in face of the competition or she was protecting me from the devious schemes her sister might have concocted, always within arm’s length.

She got the chance to get me alone in the kitchen and apologized for her sister’s behavior. She had called home, learned that her father had thrown Michelle out of the house again, promised her mother to look after her sister for a day or so, until her father’s temper cooled.

“I’ll do my best to keep her out of your hair, Matt.” Neither of us needed to mention the it was my pants she wanted to get into, not my hair.

I spent the rest of the evening with Jenny. Dancing with Jenny when she wanted to dance. Hanging on Jenny’s arm when she was chatting with others. Helping Jenny bring food out of the kitchen, provide drinks for the guests who requested them. Only once, as far as I remember, was I out of her sight. She did not take me into the bathroom with her.

Those two minutes were an eye opener. No sooner had Mickey realized her sister was absent than she was on her feet and moving toward me, smiling. She softly took me by the arm.

“Don’t believe everything my sister might say about me. You know there’s always another side to every story. No matter what she says, I wouldn’t do anything to harm you. I like you.”

She stayed away from direct contact, just gazing into my eyes and never glancing away. She touched me, her fingers running along my wrist, my fingers, the palm of my hand. It was so suggestively erotic, I shivered.

Suddenly Mickey slipped back to her previous perch and the temperature in the room seemed to turn cooler. Jenny was back and had seen.

The party began to break up soon after that. I was beside Jenny as she wished people goodnight and offered her thanks. I made noises to leave also but Jenny would hear none of it. During a pause in the departures, she approached her sister and they talked, keeping their voices down. Jenny returned and we bade the last few goodnight.

“You’re not going home, you’re staying,” she told me. “Here. With me. Tonight. Michelle is staying in Loretta’s room. You’re sleeping with me.”

Now I could see no good reason why I shouldn’t go. I’d had a few drinks but not enough to impair. I tried to protest.

Jenny would have none of it. She glared at me, with a slight nod in Mickey’s direction. I got the idea. She was afraid that if I left, her sister would find a way to leave and corner me if for no other reason than to get back at Jenny. Thus the invitation to her bed. I suppose. I hadn’t expected anything to come from this evening anyway.

I spent time in the kitchen, helping Amy clean up. We were quiet enough to hear Jenny forcefully explain the arrangements with her sister, but not the words used. I can only imagine.

“He’s mine. He’s in my bed tonight. You had better settle in Loretta’s room and stay there. Keep your fucking hands off Matt. And try to keep your dirty mind off him, too.” At least words to that effect. With some sort of threat, real or implied.

When that deal had been settled to her satisfaction, she came into the kitchen to direct me. I could sense the cold anger tight under her outward appearance.

“Use the bathroom while it’s free. The flowered towel is for guests. Sorry we have nothing you can sleep in, nothing suitable that fits. I’ll be with you when I can.”

Somehow, it didn’t sound promising. I felt that my chances to get laid had just plummeted from a certainty to less than one in twenty. I got ready and crawled into her bed. I considered keeping my underwear on, but didn’t. I did leave the bedside lamp on.

The ten or more minutes I waited for her didn’t do one little thing to ease the turmoil in my mind. I seemed to be caught in a power struggle between the two sisters.

* * *
I lay on my back and tried to relax. With my eyes closed, palms flat on the mattress, I breathed slowly and evenly, willing all turmoil to leave my mind and body. I seemed to be succeeding until I felt the bed tremble with little shakes. She was sobbing silently.

I reached out a hand toward her. It came to rest on her hip, below the elbow held snug against her waist. All that did was prove she wasn’t wearing a nightgown of any sort. Or panties.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

In the dark I turned onto my side facing her. There was probably a foot and a half of space between us, like spoons in separate compartments in the same drawer. I took my hand away and began to stroke her gently along the back of her neck and on her shoulder, barely touching her.

“Stop it. I said don’t touch me.”

“Sometimes we need to be touched, like a lonely kitten needs to be petted, like a child needs to be hugged. It expresses concern and care much more than any words can,” I murmured.

I continued to run my fingertips over the muscles and tendons knotted in her neck and shoulder, a gesture that was neither massage nor caress. I felt her breathing become just a little more even. We continued like that for long minutes.

I didn’t expect it. She shifted suddenly and wound up snuggled on her side against me, her head on my shoulder, shoulder in my armpit, her body solid against my side. Her small breasts pressed against my ribcage; her upper leg fell between mine. My cock began to rise.

Again I began to stroke her neck and shoulder with the thumb and ball on one hand but she shook her head in the dark.

“Keep your hands to yourself. Let me do this.”

Once more she made a sudden shift and ended with her body covering mine.

She pulled the twisted sheets off our bodies and pushed them to the floor with her feet. She slid her hands under my shoulders. Her breasts snuggled between our ribs. Her thighs, knees, and feet rested to the outside of mine. Her pelvis trapped my tumescent cock between our bellies. Her head was raised over mine; in the dark I could not see her face.

“Matt. I am going to fuck you. I need to fuck you.”

With her face against the side of mine and our chests still pressed together, she shifted onto her knees. The move freed my cock to grow to even greater stiffness. Her lips found mine. Her tongue forced its way between my lips, then backed away.

“Just let me do it all, O. K? Just me.”

Her right hand snaked down below our waists and grabbed my hard cock. She slowly slid it along the outside of her labia, in the creases between her pussy and her thighs. Then she spread her legs wider and brought it back along the inside. I could feel the softness of the inner lips and the moisture she was beginning to secrete. She pushed the head of my cock against her still-hooded clitoris, shivered for a moment, then aimed and pushed herself down over my cock. It entered smoothly, as if coming home. We both released breath we hadn’t realized we were holding.

“Ah,” she said. “Mmmmm. Don’t move.”

I felt her insides contract around me, release and contract again. For an instant I was reminded of milking machines on my grandfather’s farm when I was a kid and wondered if there were special muscles to use, to develop to manage this. I tried to wrap my arms around her and hold her close. She pushed her body off mine, held herself almost horizontal, parallel to me. Her hands were planted firm on the mattress at my shoulders; her knees were spread wider than my hips. The only place, the only way we were connected was through my cock and her pussy. She hunched her hips up and down in a steady manner, as if working toward an end.

I reached for her arms, to run my hands up to her chest to hold and fondle her breasts. She stopped all movement.

“Stop. I don’t want you to touch me while I fuck you.”

I realized that this was her show, that she was doing this while keeping any emotion under strict control, denying any intimacy to the act. I could either lie back and try to remain as clinically uninvolved as she was or turn this into a mass of anger, spite, hatred and overblown emotion with which neither one of us was prepared to deal. So, I sacrificed what little pride I retained for her welfare.

With only minimal contact, we fucked. Or, rather, she fucked me. I lay there rigid with my arms spread and my legs together tight. She was poised over me on four points, hands and knees. The only motion, unseen in the dark room, was the ever quickening hunching of her pussy on the tip of my cock.

I heard her gasp, then felt the ring of the entrance to her vagina tighten around my cock. Most of it remained outside her immediate grasp but it felt as if the head was being twisted and tickled by a hundred little fingers. She whimpered as the quivering became a fierce and almost violent pulsing that seemed to rack her whole body. I couldn’t see what was happening and automatically I reached to enfold her, to pull her closer into me.

Wrong idea. I think she cursed. I know she rolled frantically off the bed. I do not know if the blow she sent my way was aimed nor whether, if so, it was aimed at my head or my cock. An unseen but vicious karate chop caught me in the solar plexus. I lost my breath, any concern for her, all interest in sex for the time being.

When I got myself together I was alone and still in the dark in a silent house. I felt around to gather up the bed clothes, tried to ignore the brick of pain in my gut, and yearned for sleep. It finally came.

* * *

I almost didn’t believe the way I woke the next morning. A solemn Jenny was sitting on the side of the bed, primly covered in a voluminous terry cloth robe. I don’t know what time it was; light was streaming through the window so I quickly closed my eyes again. I smelled coffee and breakfast.

“Do you have to be anywhere early this morning, Matt? If you want to get up and have breakfast, I’ll drive you to work or whatever.”

I’m a teaching assistant at the college; I didn’t have anything pressing until noon today, thank God. I muttered something and tried to bury myself in non-existent covers. I felt her get off the bed and walk to the door.

“Matt? I’m sorry for last night. I shouldn’t let Michelle get to me that way.”

I grunted again. Of course I didn’t hold her responsible for her sister’s actions. But still.

“And to take it out on you when you were trying to be nice and understanding and everything.”

I didn’t hear her come back again. Suddenly I felt her slide onto the bed, stretch out beside me, onto me. She had removed the robe. She was naked. I tried to open my eyes.

“I locked the bedroom door. Let me make it up to you.”

She reached down and took my cock in her hand. The morning light lay warm on her back as she bent over me and took it into her mouth. Suddenly I was awake and not dreaming. I held her head with one hand, slipped the other under her waist and felt for her breasts, then moved to her pussy. She moaned and I felt the vibration of her voice around my cock. It was beginning to throb.

“Jenny. Jenny, please?”

She let my cock slip from between her lips, raised her head and looked at me. She read the request in my eyes and voice.

“Oh. You want to fuck. For real this time. OK.”

She sat up and swung one leg over me so that she was astride me. Even though she hadn’t been visible last night, the position reminded me of that strange time. Painfully, I might add.

“No, Jenny. May I, this time?”

I don’t know if she blushed at those words. I was too busy standing up from the bed and helping her arrange herself on her back. My cock stood out at right angles and she reached for it to insert it into her pussy.


“Let me do it.” This time the words were mine.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, tucked her hands under her head, raised her knees high and wide. I climbed up sitting back on my heels between them, cock in hand, watching the rise and fall of her tummy, the easy lift and fall of her breasts and her chest. When she realized nothing was happening, she opened her eyes questioningly.

I leaned over her. I slid one hand under her shoulders. With the other I held my stiff cock, stroking her labia with it. I pressed my chest down against her breasts. And then I kissed her.

I’m sure she didn’t expect that. At least she didn’t bite my tongue although in reflex she might have. She moaned and met my invading tongue with her own, put her hands at my side, and half-heartedly tried to push me away. I changed my grip on her.

Forget about my cock for a few minutes, I had some serious tormenting to do first. One hand far under her back holding her breasts mashed to my chest. One leg between hers, the other slung over her thigh. The other hand covering and cupping her pussy, held in place by the pressure of my thigh. As close to helpless and in my grip as I could get her.

I began to play small games with her. I pulled my tongue out of her mouth and when she moaned in complaint, nipped her lower lip. Then mashed my mouth down on hers again. With no tongue.

She tried to twist away from me. I forced my full weight on her chest with assistance from my legs, twisted and rasped my chest hair against the erect and sensitive nipples that tried to puncture me with their rigidity. That hand cupping her pussy was not one of caressing fingers. It clamped down hard, squeezing the labia together. Uncomfortable? Definitely. Painful? I hoped not but nothing was certain. Exciting? Arousing? I thought maybe. My cock lay hard and throbbing in the groove of her pelvis, trapped between our bodies.

The flesh cupped by my hand was changing, and not slowly. I thought I could feel her outer labia thicken with arousal, the inner labia push out against my palm, becoming hot and wet. The short pubic hair bristled on my fingers as her hips raised off the bed, pushing up, trying to open up and draw my fingers into her cunt.

The way I held her left her almost immobile. She began to sob in frustration. I placed my mouth next to her ear.

“This will be more enjoyable if you lie still, let me do the work, all the work. Promise?”

I moved and pressed my lips softly to hers. She nodded and I could feel her whole body begin to relax underneath me. I released her, got up and stood beside the bed looking down at her. Almost automatically her hands moved to cover her breasts.

“No, Jenny. Let me see you, please.”

Her eyes were drawn down to my cock standing out proudly from my body. I spread her knees, clambered onto the bed and settled between them. Her pussy was beautiful. As I had surmised, the outer labia were engorged and a dusky red; the inner, a darker color, had folded outward like the petals of a flower. Moisture was seeping between them, soaking the pubic hair lying short and flat against her groin. Neat. Trimmed but not shaved.

The rest of her body was unexceptional. A little padding on the hipbones, a little curve at the belly. Moderate size breasts. I leaned over her to take them in my hands, to feel them and measure them. My cock brushed against her pussy; I lifted to make sure it didn’t go in. I let it rest against her pubis at the top of her cunt where the clitoris hid. No pressure.

My hands were full of her breasts. Even before my touch the nipples had begun to harden, the areolas to wrinkle. I brought both thumbs and both forefingers to my mouth to wet them, then grasped the nipples. Gently I squeezed. She sucked in a breath, held it, tried to writhe out of my grip. I thought of bending down to take them between my teeth, decided I would rather watch her face. I sat back and pulled her breasts straight up by the nipples. When she gasped, I released them.

I moved down her torso to her belly button, rimmed it with my tongue and blew on it. The result was part quiver, part giggle. I dragged my tongue down toward her pussy. In expectation, she opened her legs wider, hunched her lower abdomen toward me.

I changed tactics. I grabbed a buttock in each hand and sank my stiff and aching cock into her wide open cunt, hard and deep with a single thrust. Without any pause, I began to fuck her, in and out like a bunny. The instant rapid movement seemed to confuse her. She tried to push me off, to pull me into her, to time her moves to mine. Before a routine was established, I exploded in orgasm, one that had been building since her little sister rubbed her almost naked body up against me the evening before. I tried to pierce her, to screw her to the mattress beneath us. Before she could come, I was finished and withdrew.

I didn’t pause for any touchie-feelie. I quickly got out of the bed, held up her robe.

“You’d better get moving. You’ll be late. A quick shower won’t hurt.”

She glanced at the alarm clock, slid out of bed and into the robe.

“You’re quite the bastard, aren’t you, Matt.”

She disappeared, headed for the bathroom. I pulled the covers back on the bed, curled up under them. The smell of sex hung in the room. Just as I was dozing off, I heard the shower start. I wondered if she was going to take care of herself.

* * *

When I awoke again, the bedside clock said nearly ten so I got up. I made use of the bathroom facilities. The coffee remaining in the kitchen looked dark and bitter so I poured it out, found some instant and filled the kettle. There was a note on the fridge.

“Matt: I’m taking Michelle home, then to school, on my way to work. Help yourself to whatever you can find for breakfast. Will talk to you later. Jen.”

I found some muesli in the cupboard and helped myself. Someone had left most of the morning paper on the counter so I amused myself as I ate. I heard no one come in.

I was rinsing my breakfast dishes and putting them in the dishwasher when two arms grabbed me around the waist from behind. A young, hard body pressed against me.

“You fucked my sister this morning didn’t you. I could tell. Tell me, how was she?”

“Michelle!”

“Mickey. So answer the question. Did she give you a blow job? Want to try one of mine? My blow job is much better than hers. You wouldn’t be the first to admit it.”

“You. Aren’t you supposed to be at school? Didn’t Jenny … ?”

“Sure. In the front and right out the side. So, wanna finish what we started last night?”

Before I could berate her, before I could even turn around in the grip of her arms, her fingers had undone my belt and the button on my pants. I tried to twist away as I reached for a towel to dry my hands, but her fingers had my zipper down. As I finally found the space to turn she fished in my shorts and hauled out my cock. As my pants bunched between my knees and my ankles, I reached for her to push her away. She, however, was already on her knees with my cock in her mouth, hanging on tight around my thighs. And it was getting hard. Fast.

I swear to myself that if I had put some effort into getting away, it wouldn’t have made any difference. I would have fallen on my face or my ass. With a small gagging, my cock was buried into the top of her throat. One hand snaked between my legs from the back to fondle my balls. The other grasped the base of my cock as she slowly let it slip through her mouth and over her tongue.

I felt the difference instantly; it was more than technique. Her lips covered the teeth as she sucked and pulled me out of the depths, but there was something alien about the tongue as my cock slid along it. A growth of some sort.

Suddenly all external movement stopped. Her hand held my scrotum firmly; the other hand loosely surrounded the bottom half of my cock. Her lips had withdrawn and I could feel the edges of her teeth holding firm just beyond the corona of the head of my cock. And in the cavern of her mouth her tongue was playing a sweet seductive game with my glans. Round and round clockwise. Round and round counterclockwise. The tip of her tongue tapped or tickled the head, using that chunk of extra to fantastic effect. It scraped the most sensitive frenum. I made noises, a cry, a sob, a moan, or some combination of them all.

I hadn’t had time to think before everything changed drastically. Her mouth sucked hard and twisted my probing cock. Her hand became tight and jacked me furiously. Then she let go my balls and buried a finger deep in my ass. I think I screamed. I came in the back of her throat. And came.

And then some. She sucked and she swallowed. I stood and trembled.

Before I could begin to gather myself together, she was on her feet straightening out her clothing. She grinned at my face.

“Told you, didn’t I? When you want the best, you’ll know where to come,”

She giggled at her own pun even though it seemed to me that she’d used it before, like advertising. She stuck out her tongue at me.

The barbell stud through her tongue jiggled and winked.

Then she was gone. I made my way to the bathroom, cleaned off my poor cock, splashed cold water on my face and neck. I washed my hands. In the kitchen, the clock said ten thirty. Breakfast and a blowjob in little more than half an hour.

* * *

I didn’t leave a note. I wasn’t sure if I should thank Jenny for the hospitality I hadn’t needed or expected. I thought perhaps a casual mention in the future might be enough.

But there was to be no future. Several times I saw Amy again, but was never able to speak to her. The sisters both disappeared, and I have no idea why. But I can not forget them.