A Little Blue DressbyWm_Sexspear©
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Being only two years older than my sister, my earliest memories of Barbara are of her around age 4. She didn't turn into a jock until she got into High School. As a kid, Barb was all girl; dolls, tea parties attended by imaginary guests... in other words, everything yucky to a older brother. Therefore we never did very much together as kids. Sometimes we played board games as a family, but that's about it. You don't grow particularly close to a sibling playing Chutes and Ladders once in a while.
Sure, over time the games became more adult as we kids grew up. Before you start getting too excited by the word adult, I mean games like Scrabble and Monopoly. But other than enforced associations during family outings, or planned rainy day events, Barb and I mostly went our separate ways. Since we spent little time in each other's face, we rarely fought. Guess you could say we liked each other.
Barb grew into a big, strong girl. Thanks to being an enthusiastic athlete, she developed powerful, long legs. The girl loved to run, she liked field hockey, softball, and basketball. Being 5' 10" certainly helped her in all three sports. For fun, Barb loved to swim. If you hadn't guessed, she had a body to die for. Being a guy, I have no idea about dress sizes or bra cups. When she wore a swim suit, it looked like a couple plump, tasty oranges were hiding under her top.
Don't get me wrong, I adore breasts, but I'd seldom paid overmuch attention to my sister's, except to appreciate that she had a fabulous body to my way of thinking. Her muscle definition reminded me of a marble statue.
Another reason we weren't overly close; my little sister never needed a big brother. At an early age, Barb was strong enough to beat the living daylights out of any guy stupid enough to treat her poorly. Don't get me wrong, I liked Barb, respected her, loved her, I'd do anything to keep her from harm. She just never needed rescuing.
Wholesome is the way I'd describe her appearance. During warm weather, she was usually tan, which brought her freckles out. She had brownish-green eyes. What you saw often depended upon what she wore, or the lighting. Normally she sported a single pony tail. When she dressed up a bit, she let her hair down. Then it framed her face, curling under her jaw line. Long bangs just made the picture prettier.
Despite what I've described, maybe her best feature was her pearly white smile. So, did I have the 'hots' for my sister? Nope. Sure, I'd wondered more than once what she looked like naked. Had I ever had a fantasy about her late at night while seeking a little five-finger relief? Yeah, a couple times, but it was mostly soon after seeing her almost Amazonian body in a bikini. Even then it was more because Barb's had been the sexiest body I'd seen that day, so it fresher in my mind. And that's how life was... until the little blue dress.
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I remember every detail as clearly as if I had it on video tape. It was a Friday night. I'd hit the college Student Union after my afternoon classes. Having no plans for the evening, I'd hung out with some casual friends to kill a little time. Occasionally I'd stumble into a last minute date that way. I found a few laughs, but no good leads, so I headed home for dinner.
Walking upstairs, I froze 4 steps from the top. Above me, on the landing, just about to start down, was Barb. Apparently she had a date, and was ready to leave. She rarely wore make up, she didn't need it. Tonight Barbara had applied just that little bit needed to transform her cutesy, Ivory Snow, girl next door face, into a highly desirable young woman's. A touch of eye shadow with a few sparkles gave her eyes a pixyish look. Long shiny brown hair framed her face. Glossy red lipstick, a touch of blush, and a blue dog collar necklace with a small fake-ruby broach; all of that hit me as I looked up, seeing her for the first time.
My problem began because the little blue dress she was wearing. I'm guessing it was new. I'd certainly never seen it before, I would have remembered. From my vantage point several steps below her, what greeted my eyes was totally devastating.
Yes, Barb looked great, but that dress. It was just a plain, simple little cotton dress, but it fit her as if the designer had Barbara in for a custom fitting. It was sleeveless, had a scooped front, a small pocket on each side at the top of her hips, and a wide zipper down the front. It was short enough to show a lot of thigh normally, but from where I stood, her long, sculpted legs seemed to rise into the clouds like Jack's beanstalk. Her makeup was simple, her dress was simple, but at that moment Barbara looked to me like the ultimate vision of femininity.
I couldn't move, couldn't think. I stood there dumbly.
"You coming up or what?"
It still took a couple seconds to register that Barb was waiting for me to get upstairs so she could go down. My feet felt as if I was wearing lead boots when I finally began to ascend the few remaining stairs. At last I got to the landing. I had ogled her unblinkingly. Reaching the landing, instead of moving aside so she could pass, I took her by the shoulders, turning her so we were facing. Then I blithely said the stupidest thing ever to come out of my mouth.
"Barbara, you are the sexist looking girl I've ever seen. I want to lose my virginity with you." For several seconds we stood frozen like to wax statues. Each face wore a half-formed expression. Barb's reflected the smile she'd begun when she thought a casual compliment was all she'd hear. My face was locked into whatever position it had been in when the final syllable escaped my mouth. I couldn't believe what I'd just said. God knows my sister had to be thunderstruck.
Like an angry bee in a bottle, my words banged around inside my skull, forcing me to hear them again and again. I couldn't form a rationale thought. I was terminally embarrassed. I wanted to run and hide, so I did. Doing an about face, I headed for my room like a shot, closing the door behind me.
I avoided Barb like the plague the following few days. I mean, God, which was more embarrassing, admitting I was still cherry, or that she'd looked so sexy that I wanted to jump her? The few times we passed, be both seemed to find the floor unimaginably interesting. Few words passed between us, those that did were inconsequential. Just mumbled, mundane phrases dealing with day-to-day living, like "Pass the salt, please."
Many days turned into many weeks. Gradually, it seemed to me as if our normal existence had returned. Barb led her life, I led mine. Not a word about my declaration was ever mentioned.
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It was a Thursday afternoon. When I got home, I spotted a note Mom had left on the fridge. She and Dad would bring home dinner. They had a lawyer's appointment, so they'd be a little late. I grabbed a can of soda, then headed to my room. Routine daily sounds informed me that Barb in her room as I reached the landing. The stairs squeaked badly enough that she'd know I was home now. Saying nothing, I went into my room, then stretched out on my bed with a book I had to read.
No more than 10 minutes later, Barb walked in very purposely. I looked up about two strides before she reached my doorway. She wore no make up, her hair was in it's usual ponytail, but she was barefoot and wearing her little blue dress. She showed no particular emotion. Her swift approach froze me like a deer caught in headlights.
With one quick motion, Barb was at the side of my bed, then was straddling my legs just above my knees. Ever notice the look of utter incredulity on the faces of people caught on Candid Camera, those looks that say "I'm seeing this, but I CAN'T be seeing this!!" I had one of those expressions as I watched Barb undo my belt, lower my zipper, then pull my pants down to my knees.
Her warm right hand gripped my flaccid penis. Immediately she began to earnestly stroke me. I inflated like a balloon on a helium tank. Mere seconds passed until I was doing a broom handle imitation. Still showing no emotion, she planted her hands on the bed above my hips. Shifting her weight onto her arms, Barb pulled her hips level with mine.
She rose up on her knees, then hiked her little blue dress up to her waist. God in heaven, she'd worn no panties. Completely numbed by shock, I lay staring at her light covering of dishwater blond fur and the unimaginably sexy slit it couldn't entirely hide. I continued to stare wide-eyed as she gripped my shaft, centered it underneath her pussy, then lowered herself until I could only see her pubic hair meshing with mine.
Silently she rose and fell. My eyes were glued between us where, for the first time, I was seeing my penis move in and out of a women. My system was now experiencing as great a physical shock, as emotional. I felt heat, warmth, softness, gripping muscles, erotic ridges, textures, and so much more. I'd seen few bare beavers. Not only was I seeing a beautiful pussy, I was seeing my sister's for the first time since her infancy.
A virgin's body was not designed to handle many sexual shocks. My hips came very much to life. I began to thrust upward so hard I caused Barb to make 'ooof' sounds as I knocked the air out of her. My sperm was flooding into her body before the thought "I'm coming" could register. I suspect I came for longer than I'd made love. It might've taken several minutes before I no longer felt like I was ejaculating.
When I stopped, I stopped cold. I was physically and emotionally drained.
Managing to look up to Barb's face, I saw her looking down, watching me like a researcher might gaze at a white rat. If she was thinking or feeling anything, I couldn't read it in her expression. Calm as you please, she leaned over me. Plucking tissues out of the box in my headboard, Barb slipped them between us. She rose until I fell out, then she caught our combined fluids as they drained.
She got off me. Her little blue dress fell back into place. Dropping the soggy tissues into my wastebasket, Barb turned, with a feline fluidity she walked gracefully out of my room, silently, like she'd just come in to borrow a pen.
I lay there limp as wet rag, my cock still drooling, pants still at my knees. Though barely conscious, one thought managed to repeat itself a hundred times, "WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED!"
* * * * Author's Note:
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For anyone curious about the inspiration for this story, it started with my seeing Shiri Appleby, waiting to be asked to dance, wearing a little blue dress in the 1999 romantic comedy 'Deal of a Lifetime'. When I am going to get too old to fall in love yet again?