A little evil

A little evil

http://eroticinenglish.blogspot.comEven although I couldn't really afford it, I usually got a taxi when I home. Well, it wasn't home now. Mum and dad had recently died. Well, not recently, but within two or three years of each other, but it felt that way. My sister, Shannon, got the house. I didn't want to argue with her. I was sick of arguing with her. She could have it. She always got her own way.

I had made a New Year resolution to get fit. I decided to walk up the road. It was kinda sleety snow and it was hard going. It was all uphill. I was trying to put myself in the right frame of mind. Shannon said she always knew it was me, because as I came down the lane, past the living room window, my foot played a different beat from others. That was her way of reminding me that I had a gimby leg and I shouldn't really be out and about myself, but in some institution. I tried not to let that get to me. But sometimes, when she was playing all that rock music shit, and I chapped and banged on the front door and she wouldn't answer, so that I had to go all the way down the road again, without getting a rest, that really, really, pissed me off.

There was no music on that day. I pulled my jacket up around myself and grabbed onto the hood, consoling myself with the knowledge that at least, now, it was all downhill. I knew better than to try the front door. When mum and dad were alive it was never locked. But, as Shannon said, I couldn't just waltz in now, whenever the notion took me. I never said anything. No. That's not quite true. I tried to say something, but I got a red face and began to stutter. I knew she was far better than me with words and I'd be half way down the road before I figured what I should have said. But that day I tried the handle on the door. It pushed downwards, in the way that it used to and the door opened.

There was no ticking clock. The house seemed just in the way that it always did. I was a guest, so I took my shoes off at the door and pushed them under the phone table. The phone was off the hook. That was another one of Shannon's tricks, so that you couldn't phone her and see if she was in. I put the receiver back on the phone. She could get calls now, even if she didn't want them. That reordering of her life gave me a little satisfaction. I hung my jacket on the radiator in the hall, in the way that I normally did and wandered into the living room. She didn't even have the telly on, which was unusual, but I figured she must still be in bed. If there was some kind of Olympic sport for sleeping Shannon would have been a gold medallist contender. I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. I tried the bread bin. She had some bread, it was a bit hard, but I put it in the toaster. But I decided to check with her before I actually toasted it.

I eased open Shannon's bedroom door. The room was in darkness, as usual, the way that she liked it, as if she was auditioning for some kind of vampire movie. Shannon was lying diagonally across the double bed, but unusually for her, she didn't have the quilt almost wrapped around her head. The quilt looked as if she had been trying to kick it off, but one of her feet had snagged in it and she had given up. Shannon only seemed to have on a thin, almost transparent, nightdress that seemed to provide the only light in the room. Shannon groaned and moved off her stomach. One of her tits seemed to push out it so that I could see the brown aureole and the unprotected nipple. I don't know if it was DD, EE, or FF.

I'd never really noticed before, but Shannon never really put weight on. Her bum was still like two clenched fists and her legs divided up all those McGreggor genes that made them longer and stronger than most others. I now knew she did put weight on, but not in a place I should have been looking. I licked my lips and looked quickly away, as if someone was looking on and looking at me looking. I felt guilty, but a tit was a tit.

I'd never been with a girl before. I hadn't even kissed anybody. I got all splotchy red faced if even a girl talked to me. I'd only ever seen a woman naked in cast off porno magazines that I'd found. I could never have gone into RS McColls and picked one off the top shelf. That would have been tantamount to hanging a sign around my neck saying: you know me, I'm a pervert. The only sex I ever had was wanking my pal's dog and trying to shag a hole in the ground. But that never developed and we broke up.

Shannon groaned again and moved her legs trying to kick the quilt off her. I didn't want her finding out that I'd seen her tit, so I said, louder than normal, as if that could make up for it:

'I'm going, to make a bit of toast,' and, as an afterthought, 'you want a bit?'

I was half way up the hall, sprinting away from my shame. But my cock had no such qualms. It was pushing half way up my trackies, making a pouch in my boxer shorts. The kettle had already boiled. I flicked the switch on again. But my mind was on other things. Shannon hadn't answered. Part of me was already figuring that it would be a good pretext to sneak back and get another quick look at her bare tit. I knew it was wrong, but I might never get another chance and I might even see the other one. My cock created a problem. It pushed my trackies so far out Shannon couldn't fail to notice.

I figured that I'd just push my head quickly around Shannon's bedroom door, so that she couldn't see my body or, more specifically my erect cock. That would give me get another gander at her fruity big tit. Then I could, rush into the toilet before she got up, which would piss her off even more, but that couldn't be helped. I'd put a towel down on the side bath, sit down on it, open my legs and wank myself silly. She couldn't take that away from me.

I was disappointed. Shannon was sleeping the other way. I couldn't see her tit. I could see a bit of her arse, but that wasn't the same, but I'd need to make do with that. I was already stroking my cock, behind cover of the door, ready to flee to the safety of the bathroom.

'You want a bit of toast?' I said for the second time that day.

I was balanced on the edge of my toes, measuring the distance between her room and the bathroom. I'd stopped stroking my cock. It seemed only fair as it was going to receive the wanking of its young life. It jumped forward in anticipation. I nearly came in my pants. I was impatient with Shannon. I wanted to get away and wank myself, good and proper.

'You want a bit of toast?' That was the last time I was going to ask her. I was sick of her.

She didn't answer. I popped my head around the door once again. There was no tits showing and no *ss showing. My cock began to slide back to normality as I listened to Shannon's breathing. There was something not quite right. She didn't sound as if she was sleeping. I put a foot into the room, as if the carpet was going to swallow me. Then I put another foot in. I was half in and half out of the room. I made a tactical detour half way across to her bed. I pulled open the heavier curtains. My eyes adjusted to the light.

Shannon was in a foetal position on the bed. She had kicked the quilt away. Her nightdress rode up and under her bare bum. I could see the outline of her hairy fanny. Her other tit was still on show. I felt my cock begin to uncoil and stretch itself.

'Shannon, you awake'.

'Shannon, you awake'.

'Shannon, you awake'.

She didn't answer. I looked regretfully at her tit, one last time, and touched her gently on the shoulder. She didn't respond. I pushed down harder. There was still no response. I shook her increasing harder, but it was like manhandling a puppet, as her bottle blond hair flew about.

I didn't know what to do. I'd put her on her back, putting her tit back in her nightdress, feeling its firm goodness for the first time and thinking that it was the right thing to do. I kneeled on the bed. My face was close, hovering above hers. Her lips tasted of salve. Her arm came up, like a windmill and brushed my face away, as I tried to give her the kiss of life. I jumped up as if I'd been scalded.

I admit it. I'd got carried away. I knew that you were meant to massage a person's heart. But I ended up just massaging the silky white smoothness of one tit, then the other, as I lay on top of her. My mouth to mouth had similarly become a brutal tonguing. And I started dry humping her leg. I spunked up onto her flat stomach and big tits.

Shannon didn't even open her eyes.

'Just f*ck off and do what you want to do and f*ck off and let me sleep.'

I was half way up the hall, through the living room and into the kitchen before I deciphered half of it. I'd put the kettle on and begun drinking a cup of tea, but my hands were shaking too much. I needed to get away. I tip toed into the hall, picking up my coat from the radiator. I was edging into one of my shoes when the phone rang. I stood beside it, wondering what to do. It seemed to ring for a life time. Then the silence seemed more deafening. I couldn't leave her like that, without an explanation.

Shannon room was dark, as if it had returned to an earlier time when I had not been there. The heavy curtains were closed. I could almost smell my spilled seed and taste my shame. I stood on the threshold of the doorway, waiting for her to say something. I ghosted into the room, one step, then another, until I was standing beside her bed. I stood waiting and watching her slow measured breaths.

'I'm sorry,' I meant it.

I turned to go. I was like one of those shadow people I wanted to be when I was younger, so that I could follow girls from my class up the road and watch them get undressed. I'd a whole list of them. But none of them were as beautiful as my sleeping twin, my sister.

I felt as if I had no body. Her sleeping face also looked white and dead, as if it had been cast in white marble. When I finally touched it, her face was baby skin smooth, but not nearly as smooth as the skin on her tits. I was glad it was dark so that she couldn't see what she called my beetroot face. But the memory made my cock grow hard and I knew that I would have a good wank on it later. Her words also began to unravel in my mind, so that I almost spoke them out loud: 'do what you want to do.'

I continued to stroke her face as she slept. But my cock was already pointing upwards and urging me to go lower. She had a thin graceful neck, but that wasn't what I was interested in. I touched her bare shoulder. There was no nightdress strap. I could see the whole nightdress dimly bundled up on the bedside table. I pulled the quilt up. Her smooth white tits were bundled up against tanned brown skin. I needed them in my mouth more than I needed anything else in my whole life.

I touched them tentatively, at first, as if they were going to float away, like helium filled balloons into the ether. When Shannon rolled onto her back I rolled right into bed beside her, as if my tongue was an umbilical cord attached to her teat. I milked her nipples, like I would a fat and heavy daisy cow.

I could smell her sex and I needed to taste it. I kept one hand on her tit, like an old friend, whist my tongue traced a shape down her stomach. I licked her little stomach hole, moved over her hairy curly blond mound. Sadly, I had to let go of her tit as my feet pushed out of the quilt and out of the bed.

I resurfaced, nudging her legs further and further apart, like a cow butting open a fence, until they were wide enough. I didn't know what I was meant to do so I just licked and spat and tasted everything, indiscriminately, until my tongue got too sore to lick any more. Shannon used my face like a scratch post, pushing down on me with her hips, covering not only mouth, but my nose and cheeks with her glue, as ripples leaked out of her wet cunt, into her whole body.

I suppose like everyone else I wanted my first time to be special. It would have been nice if my sister was awake, but my cock didn't know any difference. Her hole was like a warm velvet glove, only better, better than I could ever have imagined. I came immediately, but just lay onto of her until my cock grew harder again. I fucked her slowly at first, tasting and tucking into one tit then the other, then both, squashed together. Then I fucked her so hard that the bed seemed to vibrate across the room. I felt her juices wash over my dick and the hot bed seemed to harden with spunk, cunt juice and sweat and become like a pit. I unloaded in her for the last time. It was like that game that we played when we were kids: peek a boo. Like most games, she was better at it than me and she never opened her eyes, so it never happened. I must have dosed off. We were curled up like spoons. My cock was like a little mushroom against her bare arse. It seemed to have woken before me. I didn't know whether to get quickly out of bed or what to do. I did nothing. My cock grew up and out, bouncing against her *ss cheeks like a spaniel puppy. I rubbed at it, holding it, as it seemed to nuzzle and push apart the hairs in the cleft in her arse and try to find its way into her little hole.

I had my hand on Shannon's leg. She patted it.

'Don't,' she said, 'I'm tired,' in that squeaky annoying way that she had.

My cock continued to snuffle about her *ss hole, but I just couldn't get it in. It was too tight. I pushed it down. I felt her gasp as I pushed up her cunt. She just lay there, and let me push in and out of her, until my cock slipped out. I was sick of her and her mind games. The head of my cock wouldn't fit in her little hole. But I continued to dip my wick in her pussy, as we used to call it. Then my cock fitted inside her, in the way that it should. I inched my way further and further up her tight little arse hole. I fucked her good and hard, like a boy, until she was squealing and promising to kiss it better.