Author’s note: Though not absolutely necessary, the reader may first want to review the prequels “Quarantined… With My Sister” (which is part 1) and “My Sister’s Birthday” (which is part 2) in order to obtain a deeper introduction to the storyline and characters as presented in this independent sequel. Whereas those 2 stories were recorded from the brother’s perspective, this one steps into the mind of the sister. This narrative goes out to all those who didn’t like the cliffhanger ending of “My Sister’s Birthday.”. 😉 Enjoy!!
P.S. “Thank you” to @Gabbygee for the motivational input & authentic female perspective!
Fuck. That was all I could think as I watched my brother and his wife walk out the front door with my husband for him to return them to the airport.
My amazing brother had secretly fucked me so wonderfully over the past couple days, but now I felt like I had fucked myself… in a bad way. And him too. It was never supposed to end up like this. Why couldn’t she have just kept her mouth shut?? And why did I have to go and make it worse??
As the door slammed behind them, leaving me alone to imagine how horribly awkward their car ride would be, I collapsed on the nearest chair and let my mind wander back to the beginning. All the way back… 15 years prior, to when I had just turned 18.
My brother was 21 at the time. We had always enjoyed a close sibling relationship throughout our growing up years, in part because of our playful personalities. On one of the first mornings that he was home on a weeklong break from college, that same sense of childish spontaneity prompted me to hide in his bedroom closet while he was taking a shower — so that I could scare the crap out of him when he walked back in.
I buried myself between the shirts hanging on the rack, and pulled on the bifold doors until they were almost completely shut — leaving just enough of a gap so that I could see whenever he walked in. I considered jumping out of the closet the instant he walked through the door, but I guessed that he’d be even more scared if I waited a bit and let him think he was alone… so, when I heard the water turn off, I took a deep breath and prepared to be still for as long as possible.
A few minutes later, I heard the door open. Through the tiny crack in the closet doors, I saw him walk in with his back toward me. Shirtless, with only his towel wrapped around him, I couldn’t help but notice that his shoulders seemed to have broadened since the last time I saw him. Although my brother’s physique was nothing remarkable, I had always thought he was handsome — and often found myself dating guys that looked similar to him.
When he turned around, I almost gasped aloud. The front of his towel was — umm — protruding.
And yet, that unexpected discovery — one that almost caused me to betray my hiding spot — was not the end of my predicament. It was merely the start, because — in the next moment — my brother dropped his towel.
I had to quickly clasp my hand over my mouth to keep myself from making a noise.
Fully engorged, his virile 21-year-old cock sprang to life, sending a strong pulse of erotic energy through the room. I had been with a few different guys, so it certainly wasn’t my first time seeing a penis… but this was my brother’s.
As the initial wave of shock at what I was seeing washed over me, a second — perhaps even more startling — realization occurred: I liked it. I liked staring at my brother’s thick cock… and his heavy-looking balls… and his manicured trail of pubic hair… and his very desirable nakedness.
The truth is, I had actually fantasized about my brother on and off over the years: sometimes he spontaneously showed up in my dreams, and at other times I purposefully daydreamed about him. Many of those times led into my hand disappearing between my legs and successfully pleasuring myself. And yet, he was my brother, and so I forced myself to dismiss those forbidden lustful thoughts as inappropriate, childish, wrong, and “just a stage.”
But on that fateful day that I found myself staring in awe at his very aroused junk, I swiftly concluded that my fantasies had never been “just a stage.” No, they were deeply genuine… they were permanent… and the implication was stunning: I wanted my brother. I wanted to… dare I say it??… be intimate with my brother. It was all I could do to not rush out of the closet and jump his bones.
In the midst of those crazy thoughts, though, what happened next in my brother’s bedroom blew my mind even further. Obviously without knowing that he was inadvertently putting on a show for a very taboo audience, my brother calmly laid down on his bed and propped some pillows behind his head. My viewpoint was from his side as he sat back, pulled his knees up toward his torso… and wrapped his hand around his towering cock.
Holy fuck. My heart was racing a mile a minute. Am I about to watch my brother jerk himself off?!?
The yalova escort answer was obvious. Transfixed, I stared at the scene… drunk on an overwhelming cocktail of feelings that included shock, lust, guilt, satisfaction, fear… and a desire to reciprocate.
I pushed my hand inside my loose-fitting pajama pants. I liked to go without underwear at times — and since that particular morning happened to be one of those times, what my fingers swiftly contacted was my bare pussy… my soaking wet pussy. I strained to hold back the moan of pleasure that desperately wanted to escape my lips.
My brother, meanwhile, soon began to make some sounds of his own. Passionate sounds. Sexual sounds. Sounds a sister should probably not hear a brother make — especially if that sister is turned on by hearing her brother make those sounds. His wrist was jerking rapidly now, and the motion made his loose balls vibrate alluringly as he stroked the length of his impressive rod.
Two of my fingers had found their way inside of me, and my thumb was rubbing my clit with the same pace that my brother was using to pleasure himself.
He raised his ass up off the bed. He was really pumping himself furiously now.
I fingered myself even more fervently. If he was going to cum, I wanted to do the same.
“Oh fuck… ohhhh fuck… oh fuck,” my brother started whimpering. I wanted so badly to echo him… to express my sexual pleasure too… to open the closet door and lick the perfectly-shaped mushroom head of his beautiful cock…
But before I could even consider the risk/reward of doing any of that, he came.
And — as I watched thick white strands of cum fly out of his cock and paint a pattern all over his torso — I came too.
The euphoric wave of climax sent breathtaking chills throughout my entire body. I closed my eyes and willed my heart rate to slow down, feeling as if I might pass out… but knowing that I dare not make a sound.
I was no stranger to masturbation, but that one felt different. Completely different. As I stood there silently in the closet and watched my brother clean himself up, the reality of what had just transpired slowly set in: I just mutually masturbated with my brother — without him knowing about it.
Still naked — a bold move, since he would’ve known that his sister and parents were somewhere in the house — my brother eventually got up and darted across the hallway back into the bathroom. As soon as I heard that door shut, I seized the opportunity to flee his room as quickly and as quietly as possible.
I never dared confess the events of that day to my brother, but that day forever changed the way that I looked at him… and it increased how often I willingly let my mind wander into fantasy after fantasy about things that I’d like to do with him. Those lustful fantasies were always marked by a twinge of sadness, though, given the seeming impossibility of ever being able to act upon any of those taboo thoughts.
Unfortunately, the forbiddenness of our relationship wasn’t the only obstacle to my secret longings: a few weeks after his private performance, he proposed to his college girlfriend, and they ended up getting married only a few months later. As if incest wasn’t bad enough, now my brother would have to commit adultery if he were to ever be with me. I resigned myself to the disappointing likelihood that nothing would ever happen between me and him.
I threw myself into relationship after relationship trying to find a guy that could appreciate me, respect me, delight me — and sexually excite me — as much as my brother. I never did, but about 9 years later, I decided to say “yes” to a handsome man who had financial success, a solid career, and wasn’t a complete loser in bed. No one would ever compare to my brother, but I surmised that I could love my fiancé enough to make it work — and it was better than being a serial dater for the rest of my life.
Oddly enough, as our wedding drew closer, I gradually discovered that I wasn’t the only one who thought my fiancé was attractive. I didn’t notice it right away, but over the course of several interactions, it became apparent that there was another woman who really seemed to enjoy her time with him: my sister-in-law. My brother’s wife.
At first, I was disturbed, annoyed, and even a bit resentful — not just for my own sake, but also for my innocently unaware brother. However, about a week before the wedding, a joke made by one of my bridesmaids about my fiancé’s bachelor party unintentionally gave me a terribly wicked idea and completely flipped my perspective.
The first person I had to approach about my idea was my husband-to-be. I made sure he was sitting down. “I have an indecent proposal,” I said to him, “… as a parting gift for your bachelorhood.”
He looked confused, and sounded slightly alarmed. “Ummm…”
My idea came out a bit more bluntly than I had planned: “I know of another woman who — I’m pretty sure yalova escort bayan — is quite attracted to you. And if the conditions were right, I bet that she’d even like to fuck you.”
My fiancé’s eyebrows shot up. “What the heck are you talking about?!?”
I rested my hand on his arm. “In a few days, we’re going to publicly commit to only being with each other until death do us part. I’m totally fine with you having one last fling before you’re stuck with me for life.”
My groom-to-be was not convinced. It must’ve felt like a trap to him, and he shook his head vehemently: “I can’t believe my fiancée is trying to get me to sleep with another woman!! Who does that?!?”
“Just one time,” I quickly clarified. I had already thought about the details: “I’d leave the apartment whenever she’d come over, and I wouldn’t ever ask you anything about it. We wouldn’t have to bring it up ever again.”
“Why would you do this??” he asked, still incredulous.
The real reason that I planned to set him up with my sister-in-law was hoping that I might one day be able to leverage my knowledge of her secret infidelities to have an opportunity to do something — anything! — with her husband. Since I obviously couldn’t acknowledge those intentions to my fiancé, though, I simply repeated a version of what I had said to him earlier: “Consider it a parting gift for your departure from bachelorhood… and a favor for the other person. A crazy experience for both of you to file away in your memories.”
My focus on the other party prompted his next question: “Who is it??”
“Someone in the bridal party,” I said with a devious smile. There were several cute girls that were my bridesmaids, though, so before his mind could wander too far, I clarified: “Your future sister-in-law.”
He leaned toward me and whispered strongly: “What?!? Your brother’s wife?!?!? How do you know that…” He struggled to find his words. “How would that make your brother feel???”
Although part of me felt bad for my brother as I said it, I spoke the truth: “Well, he wouldn’t ever have to know.”
My fiancé leaned back and shook his head. “I dunno… wow, just… wow, I don’t know.”
“Think on it,” I told him, smiling casually. “We still have a few days left.” I stood up and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead, leaving him alone to ponder my indecent proposal.
Like a typical guy, his lower head soon overruled his upper head… perhaps even more quickly than he would’ve liked to admit. Less than 24 hours later, he came to me: “Okay.”
“Okay?” I responded, eyebrows raised, feigning ignorance. I knew what he meant, but I wanted him to say it.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” he added.
“Do what?” I teased.
“Stop that,” he whined. “This is already weird enough. If you really are fine with me doing this… well, I guess I won’t say no.”
He was trying so hard to avoid giving the impression that he was completely open to having sex with someone else just a few days before marrying me… but I wanted to pull that confession out of him. “Say it,” I demanded. “Say that you want my brother’s wife to fuck you.”
His face turned redder than I had ever seen. “Are you getting off on this??”
I made a deliberate show of stuffing my right hand inside my panties, then pulling it out to gaze at my fingers — which were, indeed, a little moist. “Maybe.”
He groaned. “Fine — yes, I want her to fuck me.”
Before I could respond to his comment, though, he quickly added: “But do you even know for sure that she wants to do that??”
I didn’t know for sure. Smiling like a wicked temptress, I admitted that: “I’ll find out.”
Approaching my sister-in-law turned out to be a much trickier conversation. Unlike my husband, who I had rightly assumed would not object very strongly to pre-arranged sex with someone else, I wasn’t confident that my brother’s wife would have the same level of openness to planned promiscuity. Over their 8 years of marriage, my brother had occasionally made indirect comments about the vast differences in their sex drives… an unmet need of his that I wished his little sister could fill for him.
Getting his wife alone to have that conversation also proved to be a challenge. I decided to use the wedding prep as an excuse to ask her to ride along with me to run some errands and then grab lunch.
I realized that there were two primary approaches I could take. One option would be to nonchalantly share that I was looking for someone to be a very sensual gift to my fiancé… and innocently ask if she would be interested in being that gift. However, unless she was really confident in my willingness to share him — and equally comfortable with acknowledging her own interest in my man — I figured that she’d probably decline. The other approach seemed more likely to produce the outcome I wanted. Guilt is a powerful motivator.
Therefore, over lunch, I began to set up my awkward proposal by first calmly escort yalova confronting her with what I had observed: “I notice you’ve been checking out my husband.”
Although I said it without much emotion, she — unsurprisingly — looked instantly terrified.
At the same time, I noticed that she did not deny — or even dismiss — my accusatory observation. Since that lack of response made me even more confident that she was indeed attracted to him, I continued with my approach. “It’s okay though,” I assured her. “I was surprised at first, but I’m honestly not upset about it anymore.”
Still unsure how she should receive my confrontational revelation, my brother’s stunned wife just sat there, frozen… cowering against the back of her seat.
In her silence, I continued: “Once my fiancé and I are married, I certainly expect both of us to be faithful to each other. But as one last gift to him, I’d love to end his bachelorhood by allowing him to have one more partner… and I figured you might be interested. If you don’t want me to tell your husband that you’ve been checking out my fiancé, I’m asking you to actually go all the way and be his final one-night stand.”
Right at that very moment, the waitress came over to refill our coffees. Bad timing, I groaned inwardly. Since neither patron could even look at each other, let alone say anything, the waitress must have assumed that some kind of conversational bombshell had just dropped, and she thankfully restrained from trying to make small talk.
When she finally left — after what felt like an eternity of silence — I forced myself to resume making eye contact with my sister-in-law.
As soon as I did, she peppered me with rapid-fire comments of disdain: “That is absolutely despicable. How could you even propose that?? I’m married!! To your brother!! I could never cheat on him. And how could you possibly want your future husband to knowingly sleep with someone else??”
I sat there calmly as she hurled those remarks at me. After she finished, I waited for a bit and then responded softly with a redirection that ignored her comments: “It’s true that you’ve been checking him out, right?”
She huffed loudly and sat back in her seat, clearly flustered… but — once again — didn’t say anything.
I let the silent tension hang in the air. A couple minutes later — as if she had reached some sort of internal conclusion — she looked down and began shaking her head.
“What?” I asked, wanting to draw out her inner thoughts.
With a painfully guilty expression on her face, she admitted the truth: “Ok, yes, I can’t deny that I find him very attractive… but that doesn’t at all make your idea a good idea!!”
YESSS. I had successfully extracted her confession. Reaching across the table, I extended an open hand toward her: “I understand your hesitation. But listen: I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime free pass. One time. No one else has to know, and we never have to talk about it ever again.”
“Why would you do this?” She sounded just like my fiancé.
“I’m a very generous person,” I smiled in response. “I’m willing to share just about anything.”
For the first time since the conversation had started, the look of alarm seemed to start melting off the face of my brother’s wife. In response to that comment, she scoffed and quietly muttered, “I’d say…”
And then, just like my fiancé had done, she suddenly blurted out another thought — as if assuming that I had overlooked it: “What about your fiancé, though… would he even be open to this idea??”
My smile grew wider. Unlike when he had asked me the same question, I confidently had a definitive answer for her: “Oh, he certainly is — in fact, his exact words were, ‘I want her to fuck me.'”
My sister-in-law’s jaw dropped. Her face instantly turned crimson. Her eyes rapidly scanned the restaurant as if worried that someone could be eavesdropping on these furtive plans. When she finally regained enough composure, she whispered to me, “Are you serious??”
I nodded, and then — as casually as if we were making dinner plans — I told her, “Now we just need to pick a date!”
We ended up scheduling their illicit rendezvous for the following night. Around 6pm, I casually left the apartment as if it was any ordinary night… yet knowing that my sister-in-law was coming over to screw my fiancé. By the time I returned around 11pm, she was gone, my fiancé was asleep, and no one made any further mention of it.
Three days later, my fiancé and I got married.
At one point during the wedding reception, I found myself dancing with my brother at the same time that my husband was dancing with his brand-new sister-in-law. They were dancing quite intimately, bodies pressed firmly together, undoubtedly reliving some of the motions they had secretly enjoyed a few nights earlier. I was jealous: not of him, or of them, but that I’d never had such an experience with my own dance partner. Pressing my body into my brother more tightly than a sister should, I strained for any indication of his wonderful cock against my waist, but — to my disappointment — that section of my wedding dress had way too much fabric to feel anything.