Chapter 1: The Facebook Picture

It was late when I got home from my shelf stacking job at the local supermarket. Taking off my coat, I put it on the hanger by the front door and began climbing the stairs to my room. It was eerily quiet. Normally my parents would be up at this hour, laughing endlessly to late night reruns of British sitcoms in the living room, but it was harvesting season at the family vineyard, and they had gone to the country for the weekend, leaving myself and my younger sister Emily to fend for ourselves.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, I noticed light pouring out from beneath the door of my sister’s room. Seeing that she was still awake, I decided to say hello before I hit the sack for the night.

“Hey, Em,” I said, knocking on her door. “Just letting you know that I’m home.”

Edging the door open, I pushed my head through the gap to see my sister in bed with a girl’s magazine while Pink Floyd played softly in the background

Emily lowered her magazine and gave me a small wave. “Hey, how was work?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Same shit, different day.”

“Ah, I know the feeling.” Emily said, grinning. “There’s some leftover pizza still in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Let me guess: Hawaiian again?” I knew that it was all she ever ordered.

Emily stuck her tongue out at me. “Why don’t you just pick out the pineapple if you hate it so much.”

“Maybe I will,” I chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow in the morning before school. And thanks for the pizza.”

Closing her door, I went back downstairs to the kitchen and took the box of pizza from the fridge. Emily had left two slices for me. Deciding to eat it cold, I took the box to my room and placed it on my desk before quickly browsing through my email and Facebook feed on my laptop. Finding nothing of interest, I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto my bed. It was then that I noticed the two foreign objects laying on my pillow. Feeling slightly perplexed, I rolled over on my bed to take a closer look.

The first object was a photo printed onto A4 paper and recognized it right away. It had been taken at the annual get-together that I’d had at the park with my cousins the other week. The photo was supposed to be a wide shot of my entire family, but the image had been digitally cropped in a way so that the only person in fame was my sister, Emily.

On that day, Emily had been wearing a short black skirt and a tight but revealing violet camisole. She was smiling at the camera while bending over at the waist, her hands tucked between her legs. Her pose had the inadvertent effect of creating a scandalous amount of cleavage, and I felt myself getting aroused by it all.

Emily, being as well-endowed as she was, had a lot to show off, and it wasn’t often that I got to see her exposed like this. The way she stared into the camera, the incredible view of her breasts, the small but knowing smile pursed on her lips—I wondered if was all supposed to be directed at me. I had, after all, been the person behind the camera.

It’s a strange thing to admit that I am attracted to my own sister. Normally siblings have some kind if blissful ignorance towards the attractiveness of each other, but for me this was simply not the case. Emily was quickly growing up to become the most beautiful woman I had ever known, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I liked her more than just a friend or sister.

If I were to describe Emily in greater detail, she was seventeen, just one year younger than me. She was a slender brunette with long wavy hair, big brown eyes, and a beautifully innocent face that looked just as perfect with make-up as it did when she woke up first thing in the morning. Emily had always been renowned for her extremely curvy figure, but it was only in the last six months that she had truly started to fill out, the growth of her chest surprising everyone in my family just as much as herself when she began achieving cup sizes well beyond anything that was considered normal.

To say that Emily’s boobs were anything short of enormous would have been an understatement, as each one was now larger than her own head, and surprisingly full despite their immense proportions. Our mother—being the loving and overprotective creature that she is—had become so worried about the extreme size of them that she was now reminding Emily on what seemed like a daily basis that she would have always have her family’s full love and support if she ever decided on getting a reduction. Thankfully, Emily was always insistent that she would never go under the knife because her body was sacred to her, and that she was more than comfortable with the way that God had created her.

After collecting my thoughts, I put the photo of my sister down and drew my attention to the thing that had been beside it. It was a letter, and I felt a lump form in my throat when I recognized the handwriting. It was Emily’s.

It read:

I think I read the note four or five times over trying to figure out if this was some elaborate prank. Was this real life? Was this actually happening? There was a lot of truth in the letter, though. I had been jerking off to this picture last week. But had Emily really been watching me while I did it?

I felt butterflies dancing in my stomach as my eyes glazed over the last few lines of the letter: If you want the real thing, I’m waiting in my room. Half of me was terrified by the prospect, the other half giddy with excitement. If there was any chance at all that Emily was going to let me be intimate with her in some way, then I was going to take it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity that I could not afford to miss.

I left for her room almost immediately as I was worried that any kind of delay could cause her to have a change of heart. The trip down the hall took what felt like an eternity. I was so nervous that my hands were shaking the whole time. Eventually I reached her door, and I stood staring at it for about a minute before I found the courage to reach up and knock.

“Emily?”

After a brief moment the door opened and my younger sister stood before me in the doorway. The sight of her took my breath away. She was in the same short skirt and tight violet camisole that she’d been wearing at my family reunion the other week.

“Hey, you,” she said, her mellow voice pure and graceful like the whisper of an angel’s wings. I stared deep into her eyes. They were every bit as big and beautiful as the moon in full.

I struggled to form words in my mouth. “Emily, I...”

She cut me off by taking a strong, sudden step towards me. Then, with her breasts pressing firmly against my chest, she took hold of my shoulders, lifted herself up on her toes, and dazzled me with a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“Follow me,” she said softly, leading me by the hand into her room.

I could hear Pink Floyd still playing in the background as I closed the door behind us, and we sat down together on the edge of her bed, knees parallel and facing towards each other. While looking into my eyes, she absently toyed with the fingers of my hand, interlocking hers with mine in an intimate embrace.

“I take it that you got my little note,” she said.

“About that...” I said hesitantly. “I just need to say that I’m sorry that I...”

“Sshh,” she said, hushing me with a finger to my lips. “It’s fine, Sam. Really. Don’t worry about it.”

I looked about the room nervously, then down at her hands which were still holding mine. They were small, soft and pretty.

“Is what you wrote in that letter true?” I asked her. “Do you actually—you know—fancy me?”

“I do,” she said, blushing slightly. “I’m actually surprised that you never noticed it earlier.” She paused briefly to give me a warm smile. “Do you fancy me too?”

I felt that the only right thing to say was the truth. “Emily, I think you’re the prettiest girl that I know.”

My sister blushed further at my words. “So neither of us are at a disadvantage then. That’s good to know.”

Part of my thoughts were still lingering on the last few lines of her letter. “That other thing you wrote,” I said, choosing my next words carefully. “Did you really mean it?”

Emily gave me a knowing smile. “You mean the part about letting you experience the real thing?”

I nodded.

“Every word,” she said, leaning forward as though to deliberately accentuate the deep line of cleavage in her V-shaped neckline. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”

I looked down at the huge breasts filling out my sister’s top, enamoured by the sheer size of them, and the way that they swelled like the ocean with every breath she took. When I brought my gaze back to hers I found that she was looking at me in a strange way.

“What?” I said, confused.

Emily pointed down, directing my eyes to the large bulge that was clearly evident in my pants. She laughed a sweet laugh. “You really are cute; you know that?” Straightening her back, she tossed back her hair, and angled her chest towards me.

My eyes rested briefly on her breasts again. “I think I have a problem,” I admitted.

“Well, I have two very big problems,” Emily said with a cheeky grin. “Perhaps we can help each other out. Come here.” She shuffled closer so that our knees were touching. Spreading apart my fingers, she lifted up my hand and pulled it towards her chest.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked. I was so nervous that I could barely get the words out.

“They’re just boobs,” Emily said while casually pressing the bulk of her left breast into the palm of my hand. “Every girl has them.”