Sharing Dirty Stories With Sister

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While I don’t mention any stories by title here, I’m sure the astute reader will be able to ascertain what I’m alluding to. Anything I do reference is, of course, only with the utmost respect and admiration.

As always, all characters contained within are 18 or older.

“Jennifer can’t stay with me this summer,” I said.

“You have that whole place to yourself,” Mom said, “You can’t make room for your sister?” Even one hundred miles away, her voice was so loud that I had to hold the cellphone a foot from my ear to protect the integrity of my skull.

“Mom, it’s a New York apartment,” I said, “When I sit to use the toilet, my feet are in the shower.”

“So, don’t use the bathroom together,” Mom said, as if she’d solved everything.

A one-bedroom apartment is a palace in Manhattan, but it’s a broom closet anyplace else. My kitchen was in my living room. I slept in a double bed, like a college kid, because it was the only mattress that fit in my bedroom. The fact that I was proud to be able to afford this place, that my friends were all jealous of where I lived, is proof that city living is stupid.

“Matthew,” Mom said, regaining my attention, “I know you’re picturing your sister as some little kid, but she’s a twenty-two-year-old woman who can take care of herself. Besides, you can’t tell me you aren’t lonely. Are you even seeing anyone?”

“I have work,” I said, “That keeps me occupied enough.”

“You are going to help out your sister, Matthew,” Mom said. I recognized that tone of voice and some instinctual part of my brain began wetting itself. “After your divorce, when you had no place to live, do you remember what happened?”

If I had any doubt that I was in deep trouble, the mention of my disastrous marriage from five years before made it clear.

“You called me, crying,” Mom said, answering her own question. “And what did I do?”

“You gave me rent money,” I said.

“Did your father and I have five-thousand dollars lying around? No, we did not. But we gave it to you anyway because we knew you had no other options. Do you see what I’m saying to you right now, Matthew?”

Realizing that I had no other choice in the matter, I agreed to let my little sister stay with me for the summer, then hung up the phone. I flopped down on the couch, already feeling squeezed by my tiny apartment, and wondered how much worse it was about to get.

*

“It’s Jennifer!”

Two weeks after my mother had browbeaten me into submission, my little sister buzzed my intercom. I hadn’t seen Jennifer in a long time. In some ways, I’d never truly seen her.

I was fifteen when Jennifer was born. She was an admitted accident. My parents weren’t trying for kids, but one showed up. Jennifer was three when I left for college. At nine, she acted as the flower girl for my wedding. She was a cute, brown-haired moppet with big green eyes and a goofy smile, her nose a little too big for her face. I felt more like a distant uncle than an older brother.

I guess, when I opened my apartment door, I was still expecting that doofy little kid. What I saw, however, was a gorgeous, twenty-two-year-old woman. Jennifer was only a couple inches shorter than me. Her thick, brown hair ran in rivulets down over her shoulders. She had an oval face, with full, red lips and apple-pink cheeks. Her eyes were massive and verdant. Her nose was still a bit too big, but somehow it just made her cuter.

As soon as she saw me, my little sister wrapped her arms around my neck like we were old friends.

“Thank you so much, Matt,” she said. She smelled sweet, like fresh strawberries. Her grip so tight I thought I might tip over.

Jennifer stepped back and let me look at her again. She had on a tight t-shirt and blue jeans. Not voluptuous, but definitely feminine.

Despite our age difference, I realized we looked a lot alike. We had the same hair (though mine was shorn close) and the same eyes (though hers were emerald to my jade). Jennifer was a bit shorter than me and had a lot more curves, but still. It was like looking at the Instagram filter that switches your gender.

My sister saw me staring and quirked a nervous smile. I quickly looked down and saw the suitcase at her side.

“Let me get that for you,” I said, and dragged the bag into the apartment. Jennifer stayed at the threshold like she was stuck there.

“Come on, come in,” I said, “There aren’t any bear traps or poisoned darts. At least not in the living room.”

Jennifer chuckled, like trying to build her courage, and walked into my apartment. The door led right into the kitchen, basically a stovetop on a counter. That spilled into the living room. There was a small hallway behind there leading to the little bedroom and the teacup bathroom. Jennifer took it all in like she was expecting it to swallow her whole.

“I warned Mom it was tiny,” I said, “But she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“No, it’s OK,” Jennifer said, “It’s more than OK. It’s amazing. This is walking distance from teen porno work and the subway is right down the block.”

“There’s, like, ten amazing places to eat all within five minutes,” I said.

“It’s New York,” Jennifer said, “Your apartment could be a dumpster and it would be incredible.”

“Honestly, there’s probably more room in a dumpster,” I said.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough, Matt,” Jennifer said, “I know Mom forced you into this and I’m sorry. I swear, if I had any other option.”

“It’s fine,” I said, “It’ll be fun. I’m looking forward to spending some time with my sister. Getting to know you.”

“I’d like that,” Jennifer said, and for the first time I caught the beginnings of a genuine grin. She gave me another hug, and I told my body to ignore how nice she felt pressed against me. Sister. She’s your sister. Please stop perving on your sister. My dick didn’t care. I stepped back before it became obvious.

“So, ummm, listen, I don’t have a bedroom for you,” I said, “Or, like, a bed.” I gestured down at the couch. After Mom had made her case, I’d bought a tiny, twin futon. But it wasn’t much to sleep on.

“I’m working a lot of the time so it shouldn’t be too bad,” I said.

“I’ll be at my internship mostly,” Jennifer said.

“Exactly,” I said, “It’ll be easy. Or at least, not as hard as you’re probably thinking. And, hey, maybe you’ll meet a guy in a couple weeks and end up crashing at his place most of the summer.”

Jennifer gave me an odd look, but she didn’t respond. It was to be expected — everything between us was awkward. She was my sibling; genetically as close as it comes. But relationship-wise we were barely even acquaintances.

Like I said, my sister was a decade and a half younger than me. We probably hadn’t shared a close moment since I bandaged the boo-boo on her knee when she fell off the swing set at age 6. I knew more about the building superintendent (an older, Lithuanian gentleman who only spoke Russian and smelled like old potatoes) than I did about my own flesh and blood sister.

It made the first few days hard. The small apartment made everything harder. Whatever moments we had together were filled with awkward accidents and uncomfortable incidents. I swear, sometimes it seemed like the only thing we ever said to each other in the beginning was ‘sorry.’

Jennifer caught me naked first. I was in the shower after my morning run and my sister, still waking up, opened the bathroom door.

“Oh shit,” she said, jumping back. The shower had a clear curtain, and she could see everything. Her cheeks, already a healthy pink, went bright red.

“It’s OK,” I said, “It was bound to happen eventually.” I waited for her to walk back out, but she stayed in the doorway, staring. “Jennifer?”

“Sorry. Um, I really have to pee?”

“Give me one sec,” I said. I was pretty much done, anyway, so I turned off the water, grabbed my towel and wrapped myself up. For a moment, I wondered if I should have told her to go while I was in there. Checking out my little sister. I know. At least I didn’t act on those urges.

In any case, I got my turn to see my sister naked a few days later. I was in my bedroom, taking a work call. When it was over, I opened my door and there was Jennifer, in all her glory, getting changed into pajamas.

“Oh shit,” I said, mirroring my sibling from before. She was half bent over, lifting her panties off her ankle. Her breasts were bigger than I’d realized. Her stomach perfectly flat. She had a full, brown bush. A cute little butt. I was seeing all of her. Snapshots flashing in my mind.

“Getting changed here,” Jennifer said.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I slowly backed away into my bedroom, like stepping away from a gunfight.

After that we had a talk. I had a little fold-out card table I used for meals, so I brought that out. We both sat there staring at our hands.

“I’m sorry about before,” I said, “But I think we need some ground rules. You’ve got to let me know when you’re changing like that.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your call,” Jennifer said.

I knew she was right. Damn. “Maybe I should knock first?”

“You’re going to knock every time you leave your own bedroom?” Jennifer said, “That seems silly.”

“I don’t know what else to do. I feel bad about seeing you,” I said.

“My body isn’t that terrible,” Jennifer said, looking away.

“Your body’s amazing.” Did I just tell my sister her body was amazing? I winced, waiting for an epic tongue lashing. Instead, Jennifer looked at me with something like affection.

“You’re not bad either,” she said, a silly grin slipping across her face, “You’re trim. You have a nice broad chest. Good legs.”

“Siblings shouldn’t say those about each other,” I said.

“No, but here we are,” Jennifer said, “Look, living like this is going to lead to things happening. It’s not a big deal. I know we’re practically strangers, but you are my brother. We’ll make it work.”

I was surprised travesti porno at how mature my little sister was being about all this. Most women, even those my age, would be having a fit right now. Any human, really, was going to be guarding their personal space. But Jennifer took it all in stride.

“From now on, it’ll be easier if we accept that these things are going to happen,” Jennifer said.

“So, I can bust in on you whenever?” I asked.

“Something tells me I don’t have to worry about you perving on your sister,” Jennifer said. Oh, if she only knew.

*

After that conversation, we settled into an easy routine. We caught each other on occasion, but it stopped being a big deal. Our inner similarities overcame our unfamiliarity, I guess. It helped that my job asked for 70 hours a week most of the time. And Jennifer’s internship worked her into the ground. If we saw each other for five hours during a week, total, then that was a lot.

Our common contact was mostly chaste, anyway. It came down to more typical things, like how the little couch basically forced us to cuddle if we wanted to watch TV together. We sat so close at the table for dinner that we were practically in each other’s laps. It was nice, in a way, having the comforts of a companion without any of the complications.

Then Jennifer caught me masturbating.

I was lying back in bed, iPad in one hand, cock in the other. I was getting pretty close to a tipping point when my door flew open.

“Matt, I was just thinking about making… Oh!” Jennifer stood in my doorway. Jaw agape.

I dropped my dick like it was on fire.

“Oh, Matt, I’m so sorry,” she said. But she didn’t leave the doorway.

“Jennifer?”

“Right. Sorry. I was about to start a movie and I thought you’d want to join me, so I came back here and I…”

“Jennifer!”

“Damn it. Right. Sorry.” My sister shut the door behind her. I lay back in bed for a while. My hard-on wasn’t returning anytime soon. I found my sister attractive, yes, but getting caught like that was the opposite of alluring. All I could think about was my sister in the next room, freaking out or worse.

Finally, I pulled on my clothes and came out. Jennifer was sitting on the couch. She was staring at the TV, but it wasn’t on.

“Matt, I…”

“It’s fine,” I said, “Like we said, these things are going to happen. I’m sorry you had to see me. See that. You know what I mean.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Jennifer said.

I sat down next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. I don’t know why, she just seemed to need comforting. As soon as I touched her, she started to cry.

“I’m ruining everything for you,” she sobbed, “You can’t even do, you know, without your dumb, dopey little sister interrupting you.”

“It’s fine,” I said. I stroked her hair soothingly.

“It’s really not. I mean, you’ve had to change your whole life around me. You can’t even use the bathroom in private. You’re not able to bring home girls. You must hate me so much.”

“I wasn’t doing that before you got here, either,” I said.

“Bringing girls home?”

“Yes,” I said. The truth was, after my divorce, I tried dating a bit, but it felt weird. Then I got busy with my career and I stopped caring. I had urges, of course. See Exhibit A of my sister catching me. Sometimes I broke my streak. Went to a bar or hopped onto Tinder. It didn’t ever work out. Either the girl wasn’t mature enough, or I wasn’t dedicated enough, or a thousand other things. I think, at some point, I decided that relationships weren’t for me. I figured I’d get a dog at some point and call it a life.

“You’re not ruining anything,” I told my sister. I cradled her head and, without thinking about it, kissed her forehead. She melted into my arms. “Living with you like this has been hard, yes, but it’s also been kind of wonderful? Coming home to another person, I forgot how nice that can be.”

“Even if it’s your dorky little sister?”

“You’re a lot of things, Jennifer, but dorky isn’t one of them.”

“Tell that to everyone I knew in high school,” she said.

“Who cares what those idiots think?” I said, “You’re amazing. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“You’re only saying that cause you’re my brother,” Jennifer said into my chest.

“Jennifer, I’m fifteen years older than you. I’ve spent more time with you in the last two weeks than in your entire lifetime put together. I’m not doing anything ‘just because.'”

“That’s my point, you barely even know me,” Jennifer said.

“That’s fair,” I said, “But I like what I’ve seen so far. You’re working at a prestigious firm in Manhattan so, clearly, you’re smart and driven. You’ve had to deal with a lot the last two weeks, but you’ve made it look easy, so obviously you’re mature and thoughtful. And yeah, I’m getting to know you better, but you’ve made me laugh and you’ve made me think. What more do I need to know?”

“Thanks, Matt,” Jennifer said, meeting tricky masseur porno my eyes. Was it wrong that she looked so cute, post-crying? “I appreciate everything.”

“It’s fine,” I said, “Like usual, I’m sure I’ll end up catching you doing the same thing shortly.”

Jennifer’s face flushed. “I, um. Actually, I don’t really do that.”

“Wait, seriously?” I was shocked, “Everyone does that. Grandma does that. Sorry for the mental image but it’s true.”

“No, I know,” Jennifer said, “I just never got into it.”

“You don’t have, like, urges?” I asked. Was my sister asexual? She didn’t seem like it, but I knew better than to judge people by how they looked.

“No, definitely sexual,” Jennifer said.

“You get horny,” I said, cringing at myself for using that word with my little sister.

“Yes,” she said.

“You like boys?” I asked, “Or girls?”

“Boys,” Jennifer said, “Only boys. I’ve dated some. I’m not a nun. But with the internship and living with you, I know nothing’s happening this summer. I still have desires, though. Seeing you tonight, I guess it makes me feel better to know that you’re going through it too.”

“There’s nothing wrong with rubbing one out,” I said.

“No, I know. I want to, sometimes. OK, lots of times. I just feel weird doing it. I’m sorry. I’m not judging you. Honestly, I wish that I could, you know, get off. I lie back and try, but my mind goes all over the place and I start thinking about work or school and I’m touching myself and it just feels weird.”

“Have you tried, um, other stimulus?” I asked. I was trying to be clinical about this. I knew my sister was opening up to me in a way that made her very vulnerable. I wanted to help, to be a good brother (I know that’s weird but there it was).

“You mean like toys?” Jennifer asked.

“Sure,” I said, “Or, you said your mind wanders, have you tried to watch stuff?”

“Porn creeps me out,” Jennifer said, “It’s so fake and odd.”

“There’s other things out there besides videos,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Jennifer asked, her face the picture of innocence.

“Well,” I said. I chose my words very cautiously now. I was about to reveal something huge. Expose a secret part of myself. I guess it felt fair, considering how open she was being with me. Still, it was scary. Like stepping off a ledge into a chasm filled with snakes holding chainsaws. “When you caught me before, I wasn’t, um. I wasn’t watching porn. Exactly.”

I flinched, waiting for Jennifer to freak out. Instead, she just looked at me expectantly.

“See, I don’t really like porn either,” I said, “Like you said, it’s kind of weird to watch. Very fake and staged. So instead I like to, um, read stuff.”

“Like Fifty Shades of Grey?” Jennifer asked.

“Sort of?” And then, I did something either incredibly smart or unbelievably stupid. “Here,” I said, “I’ll show you.”

I got off the couch, went back to my bedroom, and grabbed the iPad. I’d long since surfed away from what I’d been reading, so I navigated to the front page of the site and handed it to my sister.

Her eyes went wide. “Erotic literature?”

“It sounds fancier than it is,” I said, “It’s just dirty stories. Word smut. But it works for me. I guess it kind of gives me the best of both worlds. The stories are hot, but they also engage my imagination. I’m sorry. I hope this isn’t creepy. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown you this.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jennifer said, “It’s actually kind of sweet? Like, sharing this with me had to be so hard for you, but you did it because you care about me. It’s maybe the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“I don’t know about romantic,” I said, “But thanks.”

Jennifer took her phone out of her pocket and copied the website address. Then she handed me back my iPad.

“So, after all that, I think I’m going to go back to bed,” I said, standing up from the couch.

“Me too,” Jennifer said.

I wanted, desperately, to ask if she was going to find a story to read. But even after everything we’d already shared, it seemed inappropriate. Instead, I gave my sister a light kiss on the cheek and walked away.

“Matt?” Jennifer called after me, “Thanks. Most brothers, after something like tonight… Anyway, I hope you know how lucky and special you make me feel. I know this has been hard, the two of us in this tiny place, but I’m glad it happened.”

“Me too,” I said, and went to bed. I was still worked up from before, but the only person I could picture in my head that night was my little sister. So, I made myself go to sleep without relief.

*

A couple of days passed, and Jennifer didn’t say anything about the website. If she was using it, if she’d been able to get herself off, she didn’t tell me. I was busy with work though, so I supposed it was possible she was indulging. Besides, we’d already crossed some dangerous lines that night, I was sure that my sister wasn’t eager to keep pushing boundaries.

What did happen, however, is that June turned to July and the city got epically, disastrously hot. If you’ve never been to NYC in the summer, consider yourself lucky. The city sweats. It’s not only the brutal sun, but the buildings all trap the heat, turning everything into a muggy mess.

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