Timmy #04: A Surprise

A Surprise for Timmy

Monday

Ah, what a shitty day. I fucked up. At breakfast, Diana told me to give her a shoulder rub. I did, and Abbey stared at us the way she might stare at a man who was walking down the street in a suit jacket without pants and acting as if that everything was completely normal.

Diana asked her what she was staring at, calling Abbey “Abbs” when she did. (Diana’s nickname for our sister—why am I writing that out? This is my journal; who else is going to read it but me? Diana’s sex torture is driving me mad.)

Where was I? Abbey asked what I was doing. Diana told her that I was giving her a shoulder rub. Abbey asked, but why? Diana said, “Because it feels good. Want one?” Abbey widened her eyes as if this option had never occurred to her, but it was something worth exploring, like a free refill on a beer. Abbey said she didn’t know, so Diana told me to rub Abbey’s shoulders as well.

I hesitated. This was Abbey—boy-shy, taken from us for five years, Abbey—and Diana wanted me to touch her like I was trying to touch Diana? (Those instructional YouTube videos must have paid off because my older triplet sounded like she was in heaven.) Anyway, I hesitated

Diana told me to “Do it,” and so I did, but the damage had been done. I didn’t even notice how much Abbey enjoyed my fingers digging into the small, narrow muscles of her neck and shoulders. Diana’s eyes were all that I was aware of, and they were not happy.

Diana ignored me for the rest of the day.

I shouldn’t have hesitated.

Damn it.

Tuesday

Ignored.

Wednesday

Ignored again.

Thursday

Ignored for most of the day.

Some stuff had happened on Tuesday and Wednesday, but nothing with my older fucking sister. I tried hinting at another massage for her legs by asking her, “I’m looking for a new lotion? What do you recommend to keep my legs smooth ... like yours?”

She laughed—I think she found my attempt at seduction cute—and she told some names of some brands that I don’t remember. I hope she doesn’t ask me to repeat those names later. Oh, dear God, I hope she doesn’t tell me to shave my legs so that they’re as smooth as hers as some kind of punishment. I don’t know if I could do that.

So, with Diana ignoring me, I wrestled with Abbey some more, and she was much more physical this time around, not that she isn’t physical; the girl can throw down. This time though, she was handsy. Afterward, she asked me if I’d massage her shoulders again, so I threw her into the pool. I think that’s because I almost said yes.

Diana had come out to “tan” the last hour before sunset while I wrestled with Abbey. She was wearing sunglasses; those big aviator glasses girls wear because it’s cute (I guess), and they are cute on her, I won’t lie. I think she was watching us—me—so I took off my shirt halfway through Abbey’s training. I think Diana smiled and shook her head, but my spidery monkey little sister was all over me, so it was hard to know for sure.

Anyway, I went to bed without Diana telling me to come to her room. She did thank me for leaving bottles of water in her room like I’m supposed to, and that put a smile on my face. (I’m fucking pussy whipped, and I’m not even getting any pussy).

I’m not getting any pussy from my sister.

What am I becoming?

Sidenote: Mom hasn’t gone out all week. She spent a little time watching Abbey and me from the sliding glass door that leads into the backyard from the dining room. She was drinking wine and smiling, but that was it.

Tomorrow is Friday, and my arms are covered in goosebumps when I think about touching my sister’s dirty panties.

Friday, Day

Before we got out of the car after we reached school—Abbey had gone with her friends—Diana looked at me and said, “Remember to come and get my panties tonight at nine. I made a sticky mess in a lot of them this week. You didn’t forget, did you?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said as my heartbeat hollowed out my chest.

“Be sure to grab only my dirty panties.” Diana smiled. “Make sure to get all of them. Understand?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” Diana said. “You may kiss me on the cheek.”

I may kiss my sister on her cheek in our high school parking lot where anyone could see us. Fuck me, why’d she do these kinds of things, but I didn’t hesitate. I moved forward, not caring—at the time—if the parking lanes hid my sister’s car or not or if anyone was looking at us through her windshield. I kissed her on the cheek, happy to do so. It was a quick peck of my lips on her skin, which was warm and soft, and made my heart flutter and my legs shake. My cock jumped when I touched my lips to my older sister’s face. And it was over as soon as it began. I searched the parking lot through her windows and windshield right after, but no one was looking at us. I don’t think Diana cared one way or the other. We exited the car and went to our classes.

It was a tough day sitting through my classes, and I pushed myself extra hard during my pre-season wrestling workout, hoping to keep my mind occupied instead of focusing on my sister’s panties. It didn’t work. At home, I put Abbey through some drills, but nothing tough. I’m going to start some movement drills with her soon, calling out the footwork or technique I want her to go through and making her react as quickly as possible. The thing about Abbey is that she enjoys the wrestling more than she does the drills, but the drills are what make you better at wrestling. It’s not like skateboarding, where skating is the drill.

Friday, Night

I knocked on my sister’s door at nine sharp, already excited with thoughts of what she was wearing. I didn’t have to wait long before she opened the door, and though her outfit was simple, it didn’t disappoint.

Diana was wearing a white T-shirt that hugged her big breasts, their round curves prominent against the thin cotton, and her nipples poking hard enough against the fabric to make the shirt look painted onto her chest. The cotton sloped down her breasts to hug her flat stomach, but it was short enough to leave a line of skin showing and peach boyshorts below. The shorts were small, fitting the contours of her butt like a glove and hugging her crotch like an old man squeezing teenage pussy for the first time in decades. (I have no idea why I thought of it like that.)

I hurried into my sister’s room. I had to suppress a groan when I saw the bottom of her tanned cheeks curving out from beneath her shorts when she walked past me to sit on her bed.

“My panties are in my closet,” Diana said.

“Okay,” I said, rushing to her walk-in. She was right. There they were. There weren’t many, and they were little things: thongs and G-strings and T-strings and other strings stacked on top of each other. Picking up my sister’s panties sent tingles through my arms, a force of fuzzy energy that dampened my palms and increased my heart rate. My cock swelled, my balls tightened as I rubbed the silky-cotton-nylon combinations that had once been pressed skin-tight to my sister’s pussy lips. I wanted to smell them (Diana had turned me into a pervert), but I walked back into my sister’s room instead.

“Are you sure you that’s all of them?” Diana asked.

I looked back into her closet, then back at her. “Yes.”

“If you’ve missed one, I’m going to be mad that I have to bring it to you.”

“I picked up every pair that was in there,” I said.

I didn’t sigh, but I wanted to.

“Okay. Wash them. Now.”

I nodded and left the room, balling my sister’s panties in my fist and stuffing them in my pocket. The laundry room was outside; it was also a storage room, with a cold stone floor and uncovered sash windows that let in the moonlight. I went into the laundry room, not bothering with the lights because there was plenty of moonlight spilling in from outside.

I laid my sister’s panties on the washer. There were six in total. My mouth watered as I picked up the first pair, uncaring of how perverted I may have looked. I held them up to the moonlight shining through the window in front of me. I was holding a crimson thong, and I could make out the white smears on the insides of the panties on the narrow strip of the cloth that would rest against her pussy.

My sister’s pussy. Did I ever think I’d cherish that small, meaty piece of her as much as I did now? How did this happen? A few weeks ago, I was a typical teenager, and now I was ... I was ... what was I? In love with my sister? In lust with my sister? Falling for my sister? Eager to hear what she wanted so that I could do it? This was not how I pictured the progression of my dating life. Wait, was this dating? Was I dating my sister? Everything was so fucking weird.

I could have stood there and asked myself questions all night, but instead, I brought the panties down to my nose. I could smell their thick scent, not dirty or musty, but thick, a bit sweet, and the softness of the cotton blend sent a tingle through my fingertips. I breathed the scent of my sister’s pussy in, filling my lungs as much as I could, and my racing heart sent blood straight into my cock. Moments later, my hard-on tented my basketball shorts.

“I didn’t say you could do that,” Diana said.

“Fuck!” I jumped, my heart spasming, threatening to blow my chest out.

“If I wanted you to smell them,” Diana said, “I’d tell you to smell them where I could watch.”

I wanted to say things. To be tough. To argue, but all said was, “I’m sorry.”

Diana smiled.

“By the way, you forgot a pair,” my sister told me as she stared at the panties in my hand.

I made a flat-lined face and cocked my head to the side. My sister stood in her white shirt and peach boyshorts, bathed in moonlight, and not caring that my erection pointed straight at her because I had taken a sniff of her panties.

“What pair?” I finally asked.

“The pair I’m wearing,” Diana whispered. The words trembled as they left her playful, smiling lips. “I’ve worn them all day long and”—her voice took on a pouty, little girl quality—”they got all messy because I was thinking about my little brother.”

Fuck me, Diana, why were you doing this to me?

“Come and get my panties, Timothy.”

Don’t hesitate, I thought, even though I had no idea what I was supposed to do as I walked toward her. When I reached my sister, she took a step back. I had gone almost chest to breasts with her, and she looked up at me with a defiant hunger in her eyes. Was it because I was looming over her that she suddenly looked uncertain? I don’t know, but I knew that I was willing to do anything that she wanted me to do so that I could touch her.

I lowered myself to my knees, guided by instinct. Diana didn’t move. She didn’t say a word as she stood there in front of me, breathing hard.

I lifted my hands and pinched the sides of her peach shorts with my fingers. I thought I could smell her warm sex in that cold laundry room. Was it her I was smelling, or the memories of her panties pressed against my nose moments before? I tugged the sides of her shorts down, not too fast, not too eager, slowly, sensing—hoping—that this was what my sister wanted. She wanted to watch me worshipping her, to see me enthralled by her beauty and sensual appeal. And fuck-damn, I was. Call it teenage stupidity, but in my world, at this moment, only my older sister, Diana, existed.

I pulled her shorts down to her knees, but my eyes never left the small pink panties that hugged her teenage twat. Pretty little goosebumps covered her firm thighs, and the cotton candy scent of her labia made me close my eyes and utter the sound, “Mmm,” from deep within my throat.

“Can you see the mess I made in them because of you?” Diana asked. “All day long in my classes, I had to sit in my wet, messy panties because I couldn’t stop remembering the sensation of your thumbs pushing against my outer pussy lips.”

I opened my eyes, tracing the line of fabric digging into my sister’s inner crease with my gaze. The wet panties pushed into her, creating a thick cameltoe of sexiness. My cock flexed, and my hips pulled back, pushing out a wad of pre-cum that left my knob sticky in my shorts.