"Jamie, could you help me get this darn necklace off? I forgot I had it on, and I'm gonna be late for school."
Jamie was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, watching the news before leaving for work. Heather had just run down the hall from her bedroom, and was now standing in front of him, reaching behind her neck in evident frustration as she struggled with the clasp of a thin gold chain necklace. She was dressed in only her underwear -- thin, white cotton bikini briefs, and a lacy semi-transparent half-bra that generously offered up her large, full breasts, just barely covering pink nipples that showed faintly through the translucent fabric. Her breasts jiggled slightly as she wrestled with the necklace.
"Um, uh, yeah, sure, Heather -- here, just, uh, just turn around..." She was standing so close to him that he had to put his hands on her hips to move her back a little, to avoid pressing against the front of her body as he rose from the couch. As she turned to give him access to the necklace clasp, he had to forcibly pull his gaze up from the enticing view of her rear, the thin panties stretched tightly over the contours of her voluptuous hips and firm, round bottom. She held her hair up as he fiddled with the necklace. The smooth skin of her shoulders and the nape of her neck was warm; she smelled fresh and clean. He tried not to notice.
"There ... there you go." He removed the necklace and handed it to her.
"Oh good, thanks!" she said, and gave him a hug. She pressed the entire front of her body to him; he felt her warmth against his loins and the firmness of her breasts pressing into him, and was aroused in spite of himself. Then she ran back down the hall to her bedroom to finish dressing.
He sat back down, trembling slightly. He felt the familiar, insistent stirrings between his legs, and put his hand on his growing erection to quell it, but, of course, that served only to encourage it. He didn't want to have an obvious bulge when she returned, so he got up and busied himself in the kitchen, cleaning up.
Heather reappeared in five minutes, dressed in a purple, form-fitting cashmere sweater, a denim skirt, and running shoes. The skirt was tight, and ended eight inches above her knees.
"Gotta run, Jamie, or I'll be late for class." She gave him a soft, gentle kiss on the lips. "You're the best brother ever!" she said, and disappeared out the front door.
Jamie sighed and went back into the living room and collapsed on the couch. He surrendered himself to what had become routine for him: lowering his pants, he freed his aching, frustrated cock, and proceeded to stroke it slowly and gently. He closed his eyes and moaned as he replayed in his mind the image of Heather in her tantalizing underwear, those tight, tight panties, and her breasts, oh my god those beautiful big breasts, that tantalizing bra! He worked his excited erection slowly, teasing it, tormenting it with thoughts of Heather's maddening body held just out of reach ... The pleasure of his orgasm was intense and sweet, but the relief it offered was only temporary; Heather was almost always on his mind, and arousing thoughts of her soon returned.
He wasn't actually her brother. Heather's dad and Jamie's mom, both divorced, had married when the kids were young (she eight, he twelve), so they had spent the last ten years as step-siblings. They had always gotten along well together, more or less; Jamie accepted his new sister after an initial period of resentment at having to share his mother's affection with a "bratty girl". For her part, Heather had adored Jamie from the start -- she loved having a big brother. So, for all intents and purposes, they were brother and sister.
At least, this was the case for a few years. Heather was always "cute", but her transformation into the kind of beauty that excites men started early. By the time she was twelve her figure had already started to develop -- her breasts were budding noticeably, her hips were wider, and her long legs, once skinny, had become graceful and shapely. She was still a little girl, of course; but physically she was already fueling men's fantasies.
As for his part, none of this was lost on Jamie. He had reached the stage were thoughts of girls and sex were a major preoccupation. His hormones were raging, and he seemed to have a constant erection, which he worked over diligently in bed every night. As he noticed the change that was taking place with his sister, thoughts of her gradually began to supplant the magazines he kept hidden in his closet as inspiration for his nightly diversions. This was unfortunate for him, since he was a shy boy. He was never able to develop relationships with girls in school that might have led to healthy sexual outlets, so his erotic fixation on his step-sister deepened and controlled most of his fantasies. He never acted on these, however. To the outside world he was an affectionate, caring and protective brother; but inside, he was helplessly obsessed with her.
So passed their childhood years. Eventually Jamie went off to college, and the separation from Heather seemed to provide some measure of relief for him. He felt that finally he was going to be able to establish a normal emotional life, one that did not revolve around his sweet but tempting sister. He dated several girls and was by no means a virgin, but his relationships tended to be unsatisfying or short-lived. This was due, at least in part, to the fact that he would often think of Heather while he was making love with another girl. One relationship ended abruptly when he cried out her name at the point of orgasm.
After graduating, he got a job as a tech writer with an engineering firm in the city. He was able to afford a large apartment by himself, and for the most part was content with his quiet, solitary life. Then, he got the call.
It was his mother. The message was essentially this: Heather, who was now eighteen, had been accepted to the University. She had always been a good student, and was eager to go. The problem was money -- they were strapped for cash at the moment, and really couldn't afford the full cost of tuition and residence in the dormitories, even with Heather's healthy scholarship. But, said his mother (and he saw it coming before she said it), if Heather could stay in the apartment with him, then it would be possible -- they could swing the tuition. He's got plenty of room, and you know Heather, she wouldn't be a bother, she would help around the house, share with cooking and such, the ideal roomie. Besides, said his mother (and she lowered her voice to a whisper, which was odd since there was no one else in the conversation), they'd feel better if Heather were with him there in the city, at least for a while. "I don't know if you've noticed," she said, "but your little sister has become quite an attractive young lady. We'd feel so much better if she were where her big brother could keep an eye on her, at least until she's a bit more grown up."
And so, it was decided. There was a part of him that came close to protesting that he didn't feel it was a good idea (which from the point of view of rationality and concern for his emotional stability it wasn't); but that brief flicker of good sense was instantly swept away by a rush of excitement. His heart raced, and he surrendered to feelings of sweet anticipation.
Over the next month before classes began at the University he raced around and got things ready for Heather. She'd have her own bedroom (of course), and it only took a couple of pieces of furniture and some window drapes to make his guest bedroom decent and comfortable for her.
And then one day she was there. Heather, his sweet, affectionate little sister -- Heather, his beautiful, voluptuous sister! He'd seen her frequently since leaving home, but now seeing her here, in his place (their place), somehow added a dimension of intimacy, of possibility, that wasn't there when they were kids living with their parents. His feelings were confused, and he wasn't thinking clearly about what they were or where they might lead. On the one hand, he felt like a responsible, protective brother, who would take good care of his little sister; on the other, he felt like a guilty kid in a candy store.
Heather was about five foot four, trim and very shapely. Her hair was honey blonde, with a slight wave, which gathered luxuriously about her shoulders when it wasn't tied back or up in pony tails, framing her pretty face in a garland of gentle curls. She often had two narrow braids that hung down along her cheeks, or were sometimes pinned along her temples towards the back, giving the effect of a plaited headband. At times, when she was being pensive or daydreaming, she would wrap a finger around a braid, or hold an end in her mouth, like a little girl. Her green eyes were large and expressive, even without makeup, which she rarely wore. She had a habit, when listening to someone speak, of lowering her chin slightly and gazing at the speaker intently from under gracefully arched eyebrows; and then, if her brilliant smile followed, the effect could be heart-stopping. Many men, upon meeting her for the first time, were hard-pressed to remember her pretty face, because they were unable to get their eyes up that far: although she was trim and agile, she was voluptuous, with high, full breasts, a long, slender waist that curved gracefully out to ample hips, and a firm, rounded bottom -- Jamie's high school friends had used to call her "little bubble-butt". Her legs were long and shapely, with skin smooth and creamy as a baby's.
.... There is more of this story ...