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It was Saturday afternoon and I was bored.
My friends were mostly away at University, there was no football to go to and there was nothing else to do so in true nineteen-year-old style, I was sitting in an old armchair in the shed at the end of the garden, filling the time having a slow smoke and a beer stolen from my Dad’s fridge.
Bored! Bored! Bored!
Even Dad and my Stepmom were away overnight at a birthday party so I wouldn’t even get my dinner cooked for me or chat to them over a movie on DVD.
I was supposed to be spending the day at a theme park with my girlfriend Cindy followed by sleeping over at her house. Her parents were away and I had fully expected to get into her knickers big-time that night but of course we’d had a mega-row that very morning and, for the moment at least, the day trip was off, the sleepover cancelled and I was dumped!
My ‘crime’ had been paying too much attention to Becky Gleeson in McDonalds after college, a crime of which I have to confess I was very guilty but which sadly had led to nothing.
How could I have been so stupid?
The bust-up had been horrible. I had cycled to Cindy’s house early that morning so we could use her parents’ SUV for the trip but when I arrived there I found her spitting fire from the moment she opened the door. Her so-called friends had seen my failed attempt at seducing Becky and had reported it to Cindy with apparent glee.
And of course the seduction had been doomed to failure from the start!
Becky was a really hot girl but was the biggest cock-teaser in college despite flirting outrageously with the better-looking boys, which of course included me. As star footballer I had certainly had more than my fair share of the girls at school but now I was in college and had a steady girlfriend I was supposed to be calming down. Cindy and I had even bought each other thin gold necklaces with our initials on which made our relationship much more ‘official’.
We were even on Facebook as ‘in a relationship’ and you don’t get more official than that, so why-oh-why had I been so stupid?
In a way I had calmed down a bit; Cindy was everything I could sensibly have wanted but I wasn’t sensible and Becky was different. Becky was a challenge; Becky was the last unclimbed sexual mountain because, as far as we knew, no-one had got anywhere with her at all; not even as far as fingering her.
She might still be a virgin for all I knew and I had wanted to score that cherry so badly!
But why-oh-fucking-why had I thought she would have changed in only a couple of months? Why had I been stupid enough to think that things would be different this time? Why had I imagined that she would jump into bed with me when we weren’t even dating and she’d resisted all her previous would-be seducers!
Why had I got myself dumped by Cindy, the second-hottest-girl in the whole college, my ‘official’ girlfriend and the girl who would most definitely have let me fuck her that very night?
I took a long drag on my cigarette and blew a smoke ring into the air as I fingered the letter ‘C’ on the chain round my neck.
The truth was that I was both stupid and conceited. In my defence, I really was pretty fit myself, tall, dark haired and maybe even on my way to being a pro-footballer. I worked out five times a week too so had a good physique that had got my own cherry taken at an early age by one of the more predatory older cheerleaders.
I stared at the ceiling, inhaled again and chuckled. My own cherry!
My own virginity had actually been lost in that very shed. What was her name? Susie! What happened to her? She had done the rounds of the teams, collecting cherries like I used to collect football cards. She had been kind and understanding and I had been lucky to meet her when I did.
Not long after she had got pregnant by mistake – not by me – and got fat. What a tragedy!
There had been a couple more triumphs in that shed, I thought, taking another long swig of beer. Originally a playhouse for my older stepsister Lisa, the shed had fallen into disuse but not disrepair and as a den for a group of lads and the occasional gullible girlfriend it had served well.
I had first fingered Cindy in the very chair in which I was now slouching, not so very long ago if truth be told. Cindy had made me work hard to win her affection and had made me wait impatiently a full six months before surrendering her virginity.
That had been a wonderful afternoon, in her house, in her room, on her bed. She had cried and I had been as sensitive as a teenage boy could be but I had left the house that evening feeling ten feet tall. We had fucked many times since then but that one was the best!
Our bust-ups were rare but emotional. I was confident – well, nearly confident – that I would be able to win Cindy back eventually but for the moment it looked like I would be spending Saturday afternoon and, worse, Saturday night on my own.
I was pissed off.
Pissed off with Becky for being Side escort a cock-teaser.
Pissed off with Cindy for dumping me.
Pissed off with myself for being greedy and stupid.
Now, instead of fucking Cindy, I would be spending Saturday night alone with only my own right hand and a stolen beer or two to relieve the frustration. Worst of all, deep down I knew there was no-one to blame but myself.
For a while I wallowed in self-pity and self-loathing but after a while I heard a car draw up into the driveway. Who could that be? They were all supposed to be away.
I looked through the window to see my Stepsister Lisa’s car next to the house, its doors open. A tall, gawky boy a couple of years older than me was carrying a cardboard box from the back seat and in through the kitchen door. A moment later, an equally skinny blonde girl in a frumpy, old-fashioned skirt and baggy blouse came out and closed the car doors behind him.
“Shit!” I mumbled under my breath, “the Stick Insects!”
As if being alone wasn’t enough, now I would have to spend the evening watching the great Christian love-in on the couch. They would resent my presence; I already resented theirs so the evening would be a wash-out.
Lisa, my squeaky clean, churchgoing, virginal older Stepsister, wouldn’t even let me get away with drinking Dad’s beers and as for that geek fiancé of hers, Bobby… aagh!
Why were they home anyway? The two skinny love-birds were supposed to be at a friend’s house for a party ninety miles away.
The day was just getting better and better… Not!
Lisa’s Mom and my Dad had married ten years ago. My Mom had died when I was little; Lisa’s Mom was a shapely, attractive woman who still turned heads but who had ‘gone astray’ in her teens and had ended up a highly disapproved of single mom.
After years of being shunned, eventually she had discovered religion big-time and ‘been forgiven’. This had helped save her from the ignominy of ‘having a child out of wedlock’ but many churchwomen still looked at her sideways.
My Dad, the widower had met her years later at a church social. Both single, they had enjoyed each other’s company and had gradually gotten closer and closer until it made sense to tie the knot.
Apart from anything else, my reformed stepmom had turned her back on her previous life and would only sleep with Dad once they were officially man and wife. Once that deed was done, however, she had with God’s approval, thrown herself into the physical side of their relationship with considerable enthusiasm. The last ten years had been peppered with embarrassing incidents, moans, thumping and other noises coming from their marital bedroom which testified to their continued active sex life. My Dad was now happy, if rather ‘pussy whipped’.
Living in the same house, Lisa and I got on ok but had little in common. Like her mother, Lisa was heavily into the church and was pretty and pleasant but immature and boring as hell. We didn’t row but we didn’t talk much either and definitely didn’t mix with the same group of friends.
Her equally skinny boyfriend Bobby – now officially her fiancé – was also from the church. The two of them had been together since early high school and were well matched, squeaky-clean and dull as could be.
I popped open another of Dad’s beers, lay back in the chair and played with my phone, listening to the football commentary on the ancient transistor radio turned down low in the corner of the shed.
Even my team was letting me down today, losing away from home. After half an hour I was bored with their dreary performance too and my beer was empty.
Shit! With the stick insects in the house I wouldn’t be able to get any more from Dad’s fridge.
I looked at the house for a few moments before a movement caught my eye; the closing of a pair of curtains upstairs. My stepsister’s bedroom faced the yard and, after a quick window-count, I realised it was her bedroom curtains that had been drawn.
Knowing those two, the most they would be doing was a little kissing; it was more likely that Lisa was changing clothes and had told her geeky fiancé to wait outside the door. Either way it meant that they would be distracted and might not notice if I sneaked into the garage and helped myself to a couple more beers. But I would have to move fast. I opened the shed door quietly and ran, commando style, across the yard to the garage door, pulled it open and slipped inside. The fridge was in the corner and I pulled open the door eagerly.
Shit! No beers! I had drunk them all!
Then I remembered that Dad always kept a few cans in the kitchen for when he watched the football. I was just about to run to the kitchen door when I heard another car pull into the driveway. I sneaked back into the garage and peeked out through the window.
It was Dad’s car! What the fuck? They were supposed to be away too! What was going on?
A familiar tall, thin man got out and pushed a note Side escort bayan through the house’s front door. I looked again at the car and this time noticed the registration. It wasn’t Dad’s car at all; it was Uncle Jack’s. He and Dad worked together in the family business. They had bought a job lot of Fords for the sales team at a discount. They were all the same model and colour; really boring cars but the deal had been too good to miss.
I liked Uncle Jack but didn’t want him to smell the beer on my breath so stayed hidden by the window. I watched him return to the car and was just about to abandon my beer quest when the back door of the house burst open violently and Bobby ran full pelt across the yard. His shoes and shirt were in his hands, his feet were bare and he was running like a frightened rabbit. Reaching the fence he quickly vaulted it and, as Uncle Jack’s car disappeared out of the driveway, so Bobby disappeared down the track out the back.
What the f…?
Silently, I opened the garage door again, padded my way across the driveway to the open back door and slipped silently into the kitchen.
There was no-one there. I opened the fridge to check on the beers; sure enough there were three large cans. I was about to take one when I heard a familiar voice coming from upstairs.
“Bobbb…beeee? Don’t keep me waiiiii…tinggggg…”
It was my stepsister Lisa’s voice, but not like I’d ever heard her before. A moment later she called out again.
“Bobbb…beeee! I’m readd..deeee!”
There was a strange, unfamiliar tone in her voice I had never heard before. Intrigued, I followed the voice through the hallway and up to the stairs.
“It’s MY turn nowwwww”
Lisa’s sing-song voice rang in my ears as I tip-toed up the stairs and across the landing towards her open bedroom door. Tentatively, I peeped into the room but could see nothing. I peered through the gap in the hinge but my line of sight was poor. I moved forward, little by little, until I could just peek around the edge of the door.
There was my boring, goody-two-shoes stepsister lying in the middle of her double bed, wearing only a white bra and large unattractive panties. She was lying in the shape of a crucifix; her arms outstretched to the side of the bed, her legs together straight down its centre.
“Come on Bobbeee! I’m read..deeee!”
I stepped back in amazement. Around each wrist was a dark Velcro cuff from which a black plaited cord led under the mattress, holding her arms wide like a crucifix. There was a black Velcro strap around her knees holding her legs together but what was most bizarre were the blackout blindfold over her eyes and the pair of headphones over her ears from which the muffled sound of country music was emerging.
“Are you there Bobby?” she called as I carefully leaned over to look at her, “You ARE there! I can FEEL you!”
She was so turned on and her skin so sensitised that the heat of my body must have been enough to give me away. What should I do? Stunned at the sight before me, I had already seen much more than I should.
I slipped as quietly as I could into the room. The cardboard box I had seen earlier was on the dresser. I looked inside; there was a tangle of more Velcro straps of various sizes, a pink duster and a single long pink feather.
What the fuck…?
The ‘good’ side of my brain told me I should just slip away, leaving her to escape with her dignity intact; to keep all this strangeness a secret.
The ‘bad’ side of my brain told me to get my phone, take a few good pictures and show them to my buddies over a few beers.
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting…” she called in a sexy tone I hardly recognised as belonging to my squeaky-clean stepsister, “I’m getting co-old!”
As the two sides of my brain battled over their dilemma, my body took over and, before I realised what was doing, I had taken the feather out of the box and tentatively drew it along Lisa’s stretched-out tummy.
“Oooh! That tickles!”
I ran it slowly up and down her skin from her tummy button up to her shoulders and down her sides with immediate results.
“Bobbeee! That really tickles,” she giggled, “it’s really niiiice too!”
Feeling bolder, I ran its tip along her underarms; she writhed on the bed, tugging at the straps but with no real desire to escape. I ran it down over her tits and back to her tummy then down the sides of her thighs to her knees.
“That feels funny! See? I told you! We can have fun without having sex. It’ll be your turn next!”
Her body was long and skinny, her knees a little knobbly, more child-like than womanly but there was something about her sheer joy at this half-innocent pleasure that was definitely turning me on.
How could that stick-insect Bobby have left her like this? Was he really so scared about our parents finding out?
“Don’t stop, Bobby!” Lisa’s voice was an exaggerated whine.
In response I put the feather down and tentatively Escort side reached out with my fingers until I was gently running my fingertips along my stepsister’s long, flat, surprisingly toned tummy.
“Mmmm,” she purred. I did it again, very softly with just the tips of my nails. She wriggled.
“Bobby… mmmm that tickles too… nice… “
There was a smile on her face that showed her obvious enjoyment. Watching carefully, my mouth closed tightly, I began to stroke her exposed flesh, over her tummy again, down her sides, along her widely spread arms to her fingertips and back to her freshly shaved armpits.
Lisa’s soft purring grew louder, her enjoyment increasing as my hands explored a body I had barely even seen before. Even in the heat of summer, Lisa had always dressed modestly; her skirts and shorts were never more than an inch or two above the knee; her tops, usually shapeless blouses, were all-encompassing and opaque, never giving even a hint at the presence of a bra beneath. Her swimming costumes were all full body; I didn’t even know if she possessed a bikini, far less had seen her in one.
And yet, I had to admit, she had a fine, if rather pale and skinny body and my enjoyment in touching it was increasing rapidly.
“Mmmm,” she hummed as my hands began to stroke her long, slender, surprisingly sporty legs, beginning at her dainty ankles, moving up her calves to her knees where the Velcro strap held her legs firmly closed.
“Mmmm, Father Michael was right, Bobby. We don’t need to sin to have a good time… this is really nice.”
I felt quite unreasonably pleased with the effect simply touching my stepsister’s increasingly appealing body was having on her. I had a bit of a reputation as being good in bed and this unexpected endorsement of my skill made my chest swell with pride.
I tickled her upper thighs close to her panties until my fingers brushed lightly against her crotch. I could just about make out the tight curls of pale pubic hair beneath the thin material but she pressed her knees close together as if to prevent any deeper exploration.
“Ah-ah!” she chided, “Remember what Father Michael said. When the ring’s a stone, your secret’s left alone; when the band is gold, your secret can unfold,” she giggled in her sing-song voice, “no touching down there until we’re married, Bobbeeee!”
My hands left her crotch and moved up her tummy towards her bra. I gently ran my hands over her sides, shoulders and armpits, then tentatively over the tiny satin-covered mounds of her tits. She winced for a moment then her resistance seemed to fade. I cupped them in my palms and kneaded them through the soft material.
“Mmmm, that’s nice too… but only a little touching, remember?”
I cupped and stroked them a little longer and was rewarded by deeper and noisier breathing.
“Hear no evil; see no evil; speak no evil…” she chanted softly, obviously becoming aroused.
One hand moved from tit to tit, the other began to stroke her tummy down to the top of her large, unattractive panties.
“Hear no evil; see no evil; speak no evil…” she whispered.
Of course! That was what the blindfold and headphones were for! Jesus! How stupid could church rules be? Sure, she couldn’t hear or see what I was doing; sure she hadn’t said anything sinful, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.
Whatever she felt inside, Lisa’s arousal was now obvious. Her breathing had become deeper and she was fidgeting on the bed as my fingertips explored her body. Feeling brave, I quickly unfastened the front clasp of her bra, between her tits. It sprang open, revealing her bare chest.
“Oh! Bobby!” she protested, pulling helplessly at her bond as if attempting to cover herself, “I thought we said… oooohhhhh!”
I quickly began to stroke the underside of her small pointed naked globes as I had done with girls many times before, knowing how much pleasure it could give. Sure enough, at the new sensation, Lisa’s resistance evaporated and her nipples began harden as my fingertips danced over her teats.
“Hear no evil; see no evil; speak no evil…”
Shit! She really was flat-chested. With her arms stretched out like that, her tits had all but disappeared, leaving only large, dark nipples, hard and pointed from her increasing arousal.
I had always loved big tits before. Cindy’s were particularly large and had been great for a tit-fuck when she was on her period, but seeing Lisa’s tiny, firm, cone-shaped pair, I realised what I had been missing!
My stepsister’s tits were hot! What else did she have hidden?
Keeping one hand on her chest, I began to stroke her lower body, from her knees across her skinny thighs to her hips, sides and tummy, feeling her body writhing beneath my hands with every stroke. I began to trace the inside of her thigh, from above her tied knees to the elastic of her panties and, for an instant, felt her legs instinctively flop open before her conscious mind snapped them closed again.
“Hear no evil; see no evil; speak no evil…” she repeated as if chastising her fiancé but her determination to stop me had definitely reduced.
I backed off a little, then leaned over and breathed hot air onto her exposed, hard left nipple. She shivered.
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