My little Sister turns the key and swings open the door to her room at State U. I’m astonished by what I see. One wall is devoted to photos that Manda has taken of me–hundreds of them. They’re dominated by a poster-sized enlargement, captured in our basement during a drunken game of teen-age strip poker. I’m wearing cotton briefs that leave nothing to the imagination–and a bashful grin.
Another wall is covered with snapshots of Manda and her foxy friends. Several show her wound into the kind of sexul embrace that suggests her female friendships may involve a whole lot more than girl talk and shopping.
An hour ago, I might have been shocked by Manda’s sexual interest in women–and in me. But that was before we broke too many taboos to count at Ruby’s Massage Palace. Ironically, the only thing that really troubles me now is my failure to report Ruby’s many Fire Code violations. If the Massage Palace burns to the ground and someone is maimed or killed, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it. But, frankly, fire prevention isn’t on my mind right now. Quite the opposite.
While some would consider it wicked, our encounter at Ruby’s has merely fanned the flames of forbidden desire, and left me burning for more. I need to taste her, to feel her climax in my mouth, as I did in hers. And even that may not be enough to quench the lust I now feel for Manda.
As usual, she reads my thoughts.
“I’ve always loved you in that way too, you know,” she says.
“A sexual way?” I ask stupidly.
“Yes, Sweetie. Sexual. Ever since my panties started disappearing.”
“Oh, my, God!” I exclaim, more to myself than to Manda. “Busted.”
She laughs, eyes sparkling in amusement and affection. “You were never half as crafty as you thought, Charlie. I saw you jerking off with my panties. I always knew when you were getting started. Your bed would rattle the wall like you were trying to knock it down. May not have sounded loud on your side. But in my room, it was like the percussion section in ‘STOMP!'”
“Oh, my, God!” is all I can say. “But how… how did you see?”
“I’d just opened your door an inch or two, Big Bro. You were always way too occupied with whippin’ it to notice,” she says, an almost wistful look on her face. “You have no idea how much that excited me. How badly I wanted to burst into the room and help you.”
“Manda… Manda….” I stammer. “I had no idea!”
“Don’t go all ‘Manda, Manda’ on me, Charlie. How many nights did you peek through my window, Big Bro? Dozens? Hundreds?”
“Oh… My… God….”
“Sweetie, you’re repeating yourself. You’re way too young for Alzheimer’s,” she teases. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to embarrass you. I just want you… to… to know how it was for me.”
“You know…. about me… your window?”
“Of course, Sweetie. Not exactly when you started, but I couldn’t miss that gap in my curtains. I’d close it and by the next night, it would be right back again. Peeping poltergeists? I don’t thinks so. There had to be a better explanation. Like my horny Big Bro.”
“But you… you… never….” I can’t even manage to choke it out.
“Never stopped putting on a show for you?” she completes the question for me. “Of course not, Sweetie. You have no idea how much it excited me too. As soon as I’d see your shadow peering in, I’d start undressing. Usually I had to change my panties twice before I actually went to bed, it made me so wet.”
“You never…” I choke up and try again. “You never…”
“Never masturbated for you?” she asks bluntly.
“Yes…”
“Oh, Sweetie, I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. But I was so young. Mostly, I would turn off my lights, pull the covers up to my neck and rub myself off after I knew you were gone,” Manda whispers with THAT glint in her eye. Even through her bulky sweat shirt, I can see the arousal in her nipples.
She takes my hand. Guides me to her bed. “Get comfortable, Charlie. I’ll be back in a minute,” she tells me, snatching a towel and vanishing out the door. It’s an invitation no sane man–or woman–would refuse.
Ten minutes later, Manda returns, a towel wrapped around her torso–just like all those years ago in high school when I visited her window at night. Except she has changed in so many subtle ways. Her breasts are heavier and fuller, and everywhere her curves are softer, yet more pronounced.
Her blonde is wrapped in a loose bun with flyaway strands that create a soft halo around her face. Water droplets glisten on her neck in places that her towel has somehow missed. The twitching returns.
Without a word, Manda begins her familiar ritual. Slowly and deliberately, she gathers up her clothes and stores them in her drawers and closet. Then she shakes her bun loose, and steps to the mirror, teasing out the snarls with short, choppy strokes of her hairbrush. As I watch, I feel as if I’m 16 again. It’s all I can do to keep my hands off my zipper. I was only an hour ago that Manda’s skilled fingers and mouth helped initiate the most powerful, prolonged orgasm of my life. But my cock doesn’t remember that. It’s hard again. Almost painfully so.
When the last snarl breaks free, she re-wraps her bun, and turns to face me. Her smile is enigmatic and glowing. Like all those years ago, her towel falls to floor.
Manda’s body is so familiar, yet so different. There are bikini tan lines across her chest and groin–her breasts are still milky white orbs, still topped by puffy strawberry aerolas and stiff pink nipples. Her pubic hair is still neatly trimmed, still nearly as blonde as her tresses.
But for the first time, between her legs I see the edges of her visibly swollen labial. Manda watches my reaction through half-closed lids. Her hands move, almost instinctively, to cup her breasts.
The room crackles with sexual electricity. Manda’s right hand plunges between her own legs.
“Charlie,” she moans. “Sweetie, do you know that when I do this… when I pinch my nipples… and finger my clit… that it’s because I’m thinking of you. Remembering how I would stand in the shadows outside your door. Heart pounding. Watching my panties slide up and down your handsome cock. Growing wetter and wetter. Wishing those panties were my fingers, my lips.”
Her eyes flutter close. Her hips thrust toward me, exposing her moist sex. Both hands move between her legs… right hand fingering her clit.. left hand squeezing and teasing her distended lips.
“And I’ve wanted to do this for you, Charlie. Let you watch… let you see… see me….” her words trail off into silence, replaced by a desperate panting.
Then her whimpers begins. Barely audible at first, they grow longer and louder as she fingers herself with mounting fury. Manda’s body tenses, muscles turning rigid. Somehow, she manages to whisper hoarsely, “Watch me, Charlie… Watch me… cummmmmm!”
As the first wave of her orgasm consumes her, Manda groans with enough force to rattle the glass window panes. As happened an hour ago, when it was my hand playing in the wet folds of her pussy, warm liquid flows freely from inside her. I’ve seen videos of women who can cum like a firehose. Manda doesn’t squirt quite like that. With her it’s more like a minor meteorological event.
I watch her face grimace in beautiful agony, then relax into a calm afterglow of unspeakable joy. Eventually, Manda’s eyes flutter open and focus on mine. “Oh, Sweetie! That wasn’t bad for an appetizer.”
Her hand reaches out, wet and fragrant, and wraps around my wrist. “Now it’s time to show me what you can do,” she says, guiding my head gently but firmly to her rigid clit and pouting lips.
So this is heaven. This is what it’s like to exist outside of time and space. I have no idea how long I kneel between Manda’s legs, my hands clutching her well-toned butt cheeks, her orgasms soaking me in slippery, clear fluid. I do know we somehow make it to her bed before losing consciousness.
When a soft knocking on the door finally wakes me, the first thing I notice is that my face is still resting on Manda’s inner thigh, my mouth inches from her still-moist labia. The second thing is that although I’m still wearing jeans, my cock is rock hard.
I remain motionless. But instead of leaving, the intruder grows more insistent.
“Hey, Amanda!” It’s a girl’s voice, but one with a tough, urban edge to it.
“Ya in dare, Mandy?” she shouts, as the door handle begins to turn.
Manda wakes with a startled look and throws her arms around me. “Holy Shit!” she cries as the door edges open. “Not now!”
The previous story in this series can be found here:
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