Sex Stories

by Mary Jaine

  I hurriedly created a folder on my virtual drive called simply 'N', and grabbed every picture I could find of this girl, let's call her 'Alyssa'. I went through website after website, and found more and more pictures of her, in solo shoots, twosomes, threesome, Dp, Dap, costumes, everything it's possible for a girl to do with one or more men, a flood of images, and then, oh joy, actual video, and now I had a handy visual for the X-rated Nim-movie playing more or less constantly in my head. 'Alyssa' wasn't Nim, but she was as close as I was ever going to get, and that was good enough for me.

  Round about the beginning of Spring Term, after the Christmas break, I started to notice a change in Nim. She seemed to be more gregarious, more interested in me, which I thought was odd; we weren't hostile or anything, we bantered and joked around, but I mostly kept my stuff to myself, and she did likewise, both of us respecting each other's space and privacy; I was the big brother, and she wasn't, and we worked just fine like that.

  Now, suddenly she was interested in me, in my life, what I wanted, and where I was going. I was cool with sharing stuff like that with her; we lived together in the same house, we didn't rub each other the wrong way, so conversations like that between us were inevitable. It just seemed slightly odd that after years of amicable, mutual disinterest, she now wanted to know about big brother's world.

  She also began dressing differently. Gone were the bathrobes, baggy sweats, and squashy, bunny-head or gorilla-feet slippers. Now she was parading around in crop-tops, skin-tight sports shorts cut high on the hip, lightweight tee's with her nipples poking out like hat-pegs, summer dresses that were like wide belts, covering her from just above her nipples to just below the curve of her buttocks, and when a warm day made an appearance, she'd be sunbathing out on the patio in swimsuits made of postage-stamps and dental floss, which raised my internal temperature near the danger-level.

  Nimmie has very pale skin, as a natural blonde, so she needs at least a 50 sun-block, and she'd prevail on me to do the bits she couldn't reach, which of course triggered a certain reflex in me, so I'd slather it on her any old how, give a quick rub to spread it around properly, then dash indoors to properly 'entertain' myself with the image of her like that, with 'Alyssa' to keep me on the boil, behind locked doors, of course; didn't want her walking in on me in that state...

  Once I was done, I would then amble out nonchalantly and give her a lecture on Basal Cell Carcinoma and other skin cancers; this did not usually go down too well, and only partly because she knew more about it than I did...

  On wondering what had brought this whole change about, my knee-jerk reaction was to assume she'd got a boyfriend, followed by an almost overpowering urge to hunt him down and skin him with a blunt chisel, but I quickly stuffed that back down where it belonged; she was nearly twenty, the law said she was an adult, so whatever she did, she'd be doing it as an adult, but I still didn't like the idea.

  Forgetting for a moment the fact I was almost paralyzing myself with the amount I wanked over her, she was still my little sister, and I still had 'big-brother' instincts rearing-up all over the place whenever I thought of some slack-jawed, skinny, greasy zit-farm touching her and defiling her body; it creeped me out and made my blood boil at the same time.

  So I'd tell her to cover them up, because mum would have a fit if she saw her like that. She'd just dimple at me, and blithely ignore me, but at least she knew now that her being so scantily dressed was not something I needed to see from my little sister (oh, but it was, it was...)

  I used to joke with her when she was younger, calling her 'Big Bum', which kind of played to her insecurities; Nim wanted more than anything to be a consumptive-looking, skeletal, heroin-chic waif like some of these so-called 'supermodels'; alas, she was blessed with the figure of a Fifties movie starlet; a firm, heart-shaped bottom, pinched-in wasp-waist, and boobs that looked bigger than they were because of her tiny waist; when she put on a swimsuit she looked like Annette Funicello or Sandra Dee, or one of the other teen stars of all those beach movies mum liked so much; if she'd been a teen in the Fifties or Sixties, they'd definitely have snapped her up, because she was just the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, even then, and well on the way to being traffic-stoppingly beautiful.

  *

  It all really started to ramp-up after Easter, Nim's second year at uni. I was lounging one afternoon, watching TV and really not paying attention, when Nimmie breezed into the room. I was bored, so I thought I'd wind her up a little.

  "Hi Big-Bum, where you been?"

  "I have not got a big-bum, you lanky streak!" she flashed in sudden annoyance at me, which only made me grin and stick my tongue out. I sauntered around behind her and looked her up and down.

  "No, you're right there, you don't have a big bum; it looks just fine from here!" With that, I wolf-whistled, the one thing that really winds her up, as I well knew.

  She spun around and thumped me on the chest, eyes blazing, so I backed away, still grinning, holding my hands up in surrender.

  "Okay, okay, you win, your bum's perfect, and someday some lucky bloke's going to find out just how perfect; of course, that will be just seconds before he dies, because I will definitely kill him, you can count on that!"

  She smiled and batted her eyelashes at me, smiling happily.

  "Would you weally, weally, do that for me, Big Bwuvver?" she lisped, making me grin even wider.

  "Of course I would; you're my little sister; anyone who touches you will end up with my foot shoved up his arse, count on it!"

  Her voice took on a wheedling, cajoling tone, one I knew well from when she was smaller and wanted her own way (which I usually gave her; she WAS my cute little sister, after all, who actually didn't know just how lovely she really was, as well as being a genuinely nice person to boot).

  "Rowan, I have to go to a party in a few weeks. It's a weekend house-party, and I need to bring someone; no-one is going to want to be my date, not with you looming over me like Mister Angry, and I doubt mum's going to be happy if I go away for the weekend with just anyone, so I'd like you to come along as my chaperone, whatever, because I'm going, I promised I would, and I can't back out now. What say you, will you help out your little sister? Pleeeeaasse?"

  OK, I didn't see that coming. I sat down and looked up at her.

  "What does mum have to say about this? Does she know you're planning on disappearing off to God knows where for a whole weekend? I know you're nineteen, but you're still a bit young to just go traipsing off alone into the wide blue yonder."

  She bit her lip, something I've always loved in her; it's such a cute mannerism, and she had such lovely rosebud lips and white, even teeth, too...

  "Rowan, please, I really want to go, all my friends are going, please come with me; who knows, maybe you'll get lucky?"

  I grinned at that.

  "Nimmie, are you setting me up with one of your numpty friends? I know them all. They don't know anything about the real world, and I don't know anything about fashion, One-Direction, X-Factor, Big Brother, or MTV, so that's not gonna happen!"

  She slapped my shoulder, probably harder than she meant, because I actually winced.

  "You know that's not true! If you come with me, I can have a weekend with my friends, and no boys will bother me, not with ugly, scary Rowan hanging around!"

  I grinned even wider at that, trying not to laugh.

  "'Ugly, scary Rowan?' You're not exactly making any friends here, Big-Bum!"

  "Ro-wann!!" she gritted, so I backed off.

  "Okay, I'll do it, but you'll owe me, Nimmie, are we clear on that?"

  She stared at me wide-eyed, and actually simpered.

  "So what do you want in return, Rowan? Ask away, whatever it is, the answer's yes!"

  Okay, she asked for it, and I couldn't resist it, so I leered at her and winked suggestively.

  "I dunno, wha' you got's to give, hermanita?" I drawled, doing what I thought was a reasonably good L.A. street gang voice, while I looked her up and down
even more suggestively, licking my lips for added effect.

  Nim gasped in outrage.

  "Rowan Redman, what did...how dare you, you pig!" she stormed, and I smirked at her; good, that's what you get for making such a bloody stupid offer. Time to tell her some of the facts of life.

  "I dared because you left that door open, Nim, you numbskull! How many times have I told you, don't go making offers like that to guys, we're all the fucking same! If you show the dog the rabbit, he's going to fucking pounce! As your older brother, and the token grown-up around here, I thought perhaps I should let you in on that! Now, you don't owe me, I said I'd go with you, and I will, and I will gladly look out for you, but if you even try and set me up with any of your pinheaded friends, and especially that bonehead Janice, I will fix you, I swear; if she and her chest and her empty head are there, I'm dragging you back home, got it? The girl's an idiot..."

  Nim squealed and bounced onto the sofa next to me, hugging me, and planting a big sloppy kiss right next to my mouth. I wasn't expecting that, nice as it was, so I feigned shock and fended her off, spluttering as convincingly as I could. Nim didn't seem to care; she was beaming as she hugged me again and jumped to her feet.

  "Thank you, thank you Rowan; I promise you'll have a great time, and I swear: no Janice, cross my heart!"

  I had to grin at the memory of the last time I'd encountered her pal Janice, all Bambi-eyes and cleavage, at a party in Woldingham.

  "I should hope not, Nim, not after that party at your mate Kylie's place; she tried staring meaningfully into my eyes when we danced, and when I stared back, all I could see was the inside of her head, and way off in the distance, light leaking in through her earholes; there's dim, there's really, really, dim, and then there's Janice..."

  For once Nim didn't defend her half-wit friend, the one person on the planet who actually didn't know how to walk and chew gum at the same time; instead, she fairly skipped happily out of the room, off to make plans, or whatever. I sat back on the couch, still feeling the slight pressure of her lips next to mine; it had felt nice, it had felt too nice, and I couldn't let it happen again, not with Nim. Still, if only…

  Part 2: Naomi.

  My name is Nimmie, and I'm 19 years old. I live with my mum and older brother, Rowan, in a place called Caterham, not far from Gatwick Airport, in Surrey, England. I'm just under 5'6", blonde hair like mum's, but more sort of 'washed-out'; mum's hair is a lovely deep, honey- gold; mine, not so much; Rowan says my colour is what they call 'corn-blonde'. I have green eyes, a fair complexion, slim and willowy (according to Rowan) with 32B boobs, which look bigger because I have a small waist, but I still look in-proportion to my height and weight. My friends say I'm shapely, with a nice round bum, which allegedly is what men want in a blonde. Rowan says I'm pretty, but he's my big brother, he's supposed to. I tip the scales at just about 58 kilos, or 127 lbs, so not exactly underweight, either. All things being equal, I think I fit together pretty well.

  Rowan is nearly two years older than me, with green-hazel eyes. He looks an awful lot like dad, which means he's a real looker, something my girlfriends at school would never, ever let up about, and I do sometimes see mum looking at him when he's not looking and there's a tear in her eye. Rowan is tall, almost 6'2", well, but not heavily, built, more a sort of triathlete's build, or maybe a championship tennis player; well-muscled but not at all heavy or hulking is the best way I can describe him.

  Rowan, on the other hand, claims he's built like a racing turkey...

  He has beautiful chestnut hair, shot through with blond highlights, like dad's, but not well groomed and meticulous like dad always was, though; Rowan goes out of his way to look anonymous and nondescript, as little as possible like that bastard father of ours, in fact. It doesn't fool me, though, nor my friends; anything more than a quick glance at him and the man-hottie he tries to hide leaps out at you.

  I did have one shameful secret, and it was driving me insane with the effort of not just blurting it out; of all the boys I've met, since I was old enough to date and have 'the talk' with mum and the visit to the gynaecologist, there's only ever been one guy I'd seriously leap on and have my way with, and it's Rowan. Sick, huh? I saw him naked one day, purely by chance, and that was it; that's what did it for me.

  It was not long after Easter when it happened; I'd just returned to uni after the Spring Term break, and came home one afternoon to an empty house, or so I thought. Mum's car was gone, I didn't know Rowan was home, and I'm sure he didn't know I'd come in from classes. I was going upstairs to dump my books in my room and change, when the bathroom door opened and out he walked, stark naked, towelling his hair dry.

  He was completely unconscious of my presence as I stood in the bend of the stairs, hidden in the shadow there, staring up at him, absolutely enthralled at seeing him so natural and relaxed, with that perfect poise and unawareness of being observed that even the best stage actors can't capture. I marvelled at his toned, lean torso, at the way each muscle flexed and rippled, perfectly outlined by the dark hair beginning to speckle his chest and outline the muscles of his solid abdomen, at how elegant, graceful and fluid his movements were, and just how perfect his profile was. I held my breath, making no sound or movement to tip him off to my presence, just lost in the sheer visual impact of him as he stood there, completely natural and oblivious, breathtaking in his masculine beauty as he scrubbed at his hair with the towel.

  Confused emotions whirled through me; I loved Rowan, he loved me, he was my family, my big brother, and suddenly I fancied him! God, what was wrong with me?

  From then on, I'd developed a sort of teasing regime, for reasons that still seemed unclear, but felt right. On days when I wasn't in class or being an auxiliary at the hospital, I'd prance around the house in skin-tight boy-shorts and cut-off tank tops, or sunbathe on the patio in a teensy little red bikini and somehow convince him to rub sun-block on me; as I have very fair skin, he'd help me, slapping it on haphazardly then bolting for the house, and later I'd get the lecture about my skin type being susceptible to skin cancer, which was kind of a boner-killer, even lady-boners...

  Still, he meant well, and it showed he cared, but there was no evidence that he was interested in me, or ever was going to be, and I began to despair of ever getting him into a compromising position.

  After nearly a year of drooling over him, mooning around half-naked and getting nothing except "Cover them up, Nim; if mum sees you looking like that she'll lock you up in a convent!" and generally getting no more comments or compliments about my bum, or any other part of me, either, I was ready to move things up to DEFCON 2. He wanted to play hard to get, I was willing to play hardball, we'd just see who cracked first.

  The next time I had a late morning, no classes and no ward-duties at the hospital, I sneaked into his room to have a rifle through his laptop. I knew he didn't have a password; he never took his laptop out of the house, and I had my own laptop, so he probably thought I'd never snoop his, as what would I do with a bunch of essays and papers on vulcanism and plate tectonics, coastal erosion, and alluvial whatnots. Never, ever believe your little sister is not nosy enough to snoop your laptop; that way lies ruin. My own laptop was locked-down tighter than the Jewel Room in the Tower of London, but then I'm sneaky, deceitful, devious, and underhanded...

  On first powering-up, there was nothing immediately incriminating on his desktop, and searching through the dozens of folders there only turned up more and varied papers and charts, diagrams, and graphs relating to his studies. I was about to give up, when I noticed an icon labelled 'virtual drive', so I clicked on it, and there was a sub-folder, titled simply 'N'.

  Intrigued more than ever, I clicked on it, and gasped out loud. The girl in the pictures looked exactly like me, being fucked in every possible position, in every hole! There were pictures ranging from straightforward sex, to having a thick cock shoved into her arse, to sucking one, sometimes two cocks at the same time, and many, many shots of her kneeling with h
er eyes closed as cocks blew their loads over her face, rivulets of spunk running down her face and dripping from her chin in long ropes.

  There were video clips as well, in some foreign language, maybe Russian, and it was more of the same. I could feel my pussy itching and throbbing at the sight of a girl who could be me being used in such a filthy, dirty, depraved, exciting way. I wanted it to be me, I wanted to be her, and I wanted Rowan to be the one doing all that to me! Now my pussy was screaming for attention again, so I staggered back to my room, flopped onto my bed, and jammed my plastic boyfriend into me, in any and every hole, while all the time seeing Rowan above me as I imagined that solid, tireless cock of his pounding into me until I erupted in a sweltering, boiling, explosive orgasm that nearly knocked me out cold.

  *

  The next day was probably the turning point, the point in my life where teasing and fantasising turned into serious plotting. I was talking to my friend Jane, someone I'd known half my life; I'd had a pre-teen crush on her older brother, Greg, for a while, and she was the person who'd convinced me to study nursing with her.

  While we were chatting about general stuff, life, boys, that sort of thing, and sniggering at the junior doctors and medical students trying to appear cool in front of the student nurses, I dropped my guard and, quite without meaning to, blurted out that I thought my big brother was hot, and that I'd do him before I let any of those spotty medical students anywhere near me, and then stopped in horror as I realised what I'd just confessed to.

  Jane gave me a really odd look, then took me to one side, where she asked me exactly what I meant. I was cornered, so I told her what I'd been trying to do, what I was feeling for Rowan, the whole nine yards. She gave me a very peculiar look, almost calculating, then told me in no uncertain terms to think carefully about what I was doing. She was going away for Easter, but if I was serious, then perhaps we should have a little chat when classes were back in, because she thought she might be able to help me. That was enough to intrigue me, and so I spent the entire Easter break in a fever of anticipation; for the first time in my life, I actually couldn't wait to get back to class.