How my sister made me cum – without knowing it
Introduction:
Tried a new style, enjoy 🙂
Or actually, there is some further ado. I promised I would tell every detail, and to understand those details, there are a few things one ought to know. The first thing is Evelyn. Evelyn is my sister, and at the time of the events, she had just turned eighteen years of age. Some may say it is hard, or strange even, to say this of one’s sibling, but I can safely say that Evelyn is a beautiful girl. Like most in my family, she is slightly above averagely tall. She has a thin shape, however, and she was a little late in developing her womanly forms – but she has, eventually. She is smart, sweet, and above else, a generally good girl.
The second thing that’s important to remember, is the setting in which the events took place. It was the fourth and last day of my visit to France, more specifically: a small village in the south, where my parents and Evelyn were celebrating their summer holiday. They had traded places with a friendly family that moved there some years earlier. It was a beautiful house, at the bottom of a hill, far away from loud noises and other types of shenanigans. It was quiet, the weather was great, life was just all good here.
The last and arguably most important thing, was that a few weeks earlier, I had found myself a girlfriend. Not unlike many other new couples, a big chunk of the time we were together, was spent naked, inside and on top of one another. Sadly, she had had to decline my mom’s offer to join me on my visit, but there was a positive side to that: if you, she had said the day before I left, can manage to spend the next five days without getting off, I will come over the second you return home, and let you do anything you want. The way she had emphasized the word “anything” made it both the easiest decision as well as five of the hardest days of my life, even without the stories that are about to be unfolded.
Needless to say, on the last day of my trip, I was about to lose it. Not only had I kept myself from unloading for over a hundred straight hours, which for me was nothing short of spectacular, I also could not stop thinking about the next day, in my own bed, with the girl I liked most, possibly exploring new horizons – because I assumed that was what the “anything” was all about.
Early in the afternoon, my parents took the car to explore a nearby town. That meant I would spend the day with Evelyn, which, under normal circumstances, would be quite a lot of fun indeed. In this state, however, that proved to be somewhat of a challenge. The ninety degree weather, the existence of a fully functional pool in the backyard and the generally accepted idea that girls, in the presence of a pile of water, tend to wear only the bare minimum of clothing, made it quite the challenge for me to keep thinking about the girl back home, instead of having unholy thoughts about my own sister – a challenge I officially failed when I walked back from the kitchen, carrying two bottles of icecold water, and I couldn’t stop myself fantasizing about what Evelyn’s reaction would be if I were to start peeling away her bikini bottoms from her perfectly shaped bum, and have my way with her in a manner so frowned upon, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror for years to come.
Obviously, such fantasies are best to remain fantasies, and a few sips of near-frozen water helped to keep them where they were, safely hidden deep inside my mind. It was only for a short duration of time, though, for Evelyn stood up and lowered her body down the pool’s stairs. When she had accepted the fact that I was not going to join her, she swam a few laps, giving my brain a wide open window to oscillate between putting up images of my naked self inside either one of my girlfriend’s entrances and ridiculously similar images involving Evelyn instead. As hard as it was, however, I had made a promise, and I intended to keep it. Little did I know that keeping a promise can still mean losing the corresponding challenge – but I was about to find out.
To understand exactly what was about to happen, one final piece of information is of great importance. In all my clumsiness, I had entirely forgotten to pack my swimming shorts. Often, that could lead to awkward moments, but in my family, my mother has a tendency to solve any such issues before they have even started. In this particular case, she convinced me “not to be silly, just wear your boxershorts, we’re all family here, you could be naked for all we care”. It wasn’t a bad argument, by a long shot, and since I had immediately fallen for it, I was now sitting on one of the two beach chairs, covered only by my underwear.
The only thing neither my mother nor myself had taken into account, however, was the fact that while hiding excitement is hard enough for a man already when he’s wearing jeans, let alone swimming trunks, it is next to impossible to do so in nothing but boxershorts. Add to this the fact that I had not been able to relieve myself of this excitement for more than four days, and one could begin to understand the situation I found myself in when Evelyn climbed out of the pool, picked up her magazine, and stood in front of me.
When covering oneself up with a blanket is not an option, and neither is turning over on one’s belly, there is only one thing a man can do: tuck it away to the side and hope it goes away quickly. That hope quickly proved vain, however. It was therefore that something I had feared much for the past two days – physical contact with Evelyn – was in many ways better than trying to hide myself from her. More specifically, if the middle part of my body would be under or beside her, I would not have to worry about any of this, at least for as long as that moment would last. So when Evelyn challenged me to do one of the tests in het magazine, I was quick to agree, and quicker to invite her to join me. Contact like this is considered nothing but natural in our family, and so it happened that Evelyn put both her knees on either side of me, and made herself comfortable.
As Evelyn started to question me, I became fully aware of the situation. My sunglasses allowed me to gaze anywhere without her taking notice, including her perfectly round breasts and, more importantly, that part of her body that I had pictured so many times over the course of the last few hours, and that I feared never to be able to get out of my head now I had noticed her wet bikini had started to glue itself to it, revealing the shapes of two perfectly symmetrical pillows, with in between, still invisible but easily imagined, the gateway to her forbidden heavens.
Neither of this was of any help to the excitement situation. In fact, being in such close proximity of, and therefore continuously thinking about, Evelyn’s – as of a few weeks – lady parts, had me so extraordinarily aroused that keeping the area in which most of this arousal was concentrated tucked away, quickly stopped being a solution to the problem, and in fact became a burden. In order to save myself from excruciating pains, I simply had to free myself. Faking an itch wasn’t the most beautiful of all solutions, but it did give me both the time and the room to reach under Evelyn’s leg and unleash the monster that was trapped inside my shorts.
While this did solve one of my problems, it also immediately created another. Countless of generations of evolution have resulted in the aforementioned monster to not only grow quite a bit in size during moments of stimulation, imminent stimulation, or even at random, it also tends to keep climbing towards infinity, only stopping when almost perfectly parallel to the rest of my body. I could technically have rested it against Evelyn’s back side, but I could not imagine a universe in which she wouldn’t notice such a thing happening, and so the only other option was to make enough room while pulling back my hand, resting it on my own belly, and hoping for the best when Evelyn lowered herself back on top of me. I encountered a short, terrifying moment when I noticed the very tip squeezing out from underneath Evelyn’s bikini, but when I realized her angle of observation was much steeper than mine, I regained some hope that this could still end entirely well.
That hope is often a silly emotion, I discovered barely a heartbeat later. Evelyn, as I knew, but should have thought of earlier, is the type of girl who has trouble sitting still. It doesn’t happen in huge leaps, but at any given moment in time, some body part of Evelyn’s is on the move. She tends to change her position, be it ever so slightly, multiple times a minute. And every time she did, our quite different, but similarly purposed body parts collided in a way that wasn’t more than a tender stroking, but to me, felt like two tectonic plates rubbing against each other.
During one of these collisions, I made a rather poor judgment call. One we all make from time to time, one that usually ends in angry looks, or a slap in the face, or merely a sigh. The brain thinks: I can take another one of these strokes, of these blows, of whatever the specific action at the time is called, but the body says: this will actually do. Mind you, I do know the ways of my body, and I did know I had to find a way out of this situation I had manoeuvred myself in, and that the only way to do that was with another pretended itch. However, I had not considered the possibility that something as simple as grabbing hold of myself and pulling it away from under Evelyn would be enough to set up the earthquake I had so desperately tried to avoid.
After five days of truce, there is no firing blanks. Right after the first burst had left my body, I knew it had landed on Evelyn’s – and I was praying to every God I could name that her bikini would keep her from noticing. I managed to get up, but not until a second and third wave, and a fourth – which is always a true tsunami – came ashore on the beach that was Evelyn’s lower back area. As I made my way towards the pool, of which I thought it could be the solution to all my problems, I managed to press my ever-unloading firearm against the very lowest part of Evelyn’s bikini, thereby muffling any sound that even remotely resembled a liquid hitting a solid, and simultaneously containing any ricocheting bullets. The final explosions took place safely under water.
At first, there was a lot of “Dude!” and ‘What did you do that for!” flying around, but playful as Evelyn can still be at times, she did seem to find getting thrown into the pool to be quite amusing. To me, it was only so much more than that. It was utter fear, that Evelyn somehow would have suspected what had been going on. Total confusion, about the fact that I had been hit by an orgasm solely induced by the touch of my very own sister. But above all: the sheer pleasure of finally being able to unload, that beautiful sensation of letting go, and to realize most of it ended up on or against Evelyn’s back, legs, and bikini.
I let Evelyn climb out of the water first – not because I’m so gentlemanlike, but to make sure there was nothing left in places it didn’t belong. When I had definite proof of that, and after I had settled down enough, I managed to squeeze myself back into my shorts. As I returned from grabbing a towel, Evelyn was already back in her own beach chair – and even though I’m sure I could have managed her sitting on top of me this time, this was probably for the best.
Needless to say, I did not tell any of this to my girlfriend, the next day. I pretended I was still hovering over the edge, and after having thought about what had happened in France for the entire trip back, I wasn’t too far away from that. I did get to do a lot of things to her that day, but none of the orgasms even remotely came close the one I had had by the pool – the one courtesy of my sister Evelyn.
