A Sister's Boots

Something strange had been going on in my closet for a while. A girl without my memory might never have noticed it, but...sometimes things in there had a way of rearranging themselves. In my closet, there was a large open space in which I could hang my dresses. Below that were drawers in which I kept the clothes that could be folded. Usually, nothing in my closet changed unless I touched it. That had changed for the lowermost drawer.

Whenever I'd come home, I'd take off my shoes and throw them in there on a heap. It was a mess, yet at times, things started feeling...off. I didn't know what, it was just my brain reacting to the differences between what I'd seen in the morning when I had to pick a pair to wear, and what I saw when I came back home.

When this continued, I started to see more patterns. Half the shoes I owned were boots, and half were not, but it was always the boots that moved the most. I didn't see a distinction between boots and other shoes until then, so I didn't keep them apart. A pair of my ankle boots had ended on top of the sneakers that had laid on them in the morning, that sort of thing. I had suspicions about who was responsible, but I had been unable to confirm them.

I found the culprit one particular Thursday afternoon when I came home from a shopping session with my girlfriends. We'd stopped in front of a shop window displaying a large array of knee-high and thigh-high boots, and I had challenged Wendy, the timidest dresser in our group, to buy a pair. She'd dared me right back, saying she wouldn't if I didn't buy a pair, too. I acted as if it were no big deal for me, and we entered the shop. After a long period of indecision, Wendy had left the shop with the most modest pair that was sold; flat, brown boots that stopped under the knee. I, of course, had to show I wasn't that scared, though I drew the line at the seven-inch stilettoes they sold. I bought a pair of black suede that went over my knees. The blocked heels were as long as the stilettoes, but they were platformed boots, which made them much easier to walk on. Under a short skirt, they would be incredibly sexy. If I combined them with some jeans, however, they were just mild enough to wear to campus and such.

From the hallway, I heard the sharp, rich sounds of the violin sounding from the living room. Benjamin, my younger brother, was practicing like he always did at this time of the day. He played beautifully; he was the one who had inherited all the musical genes from our parents. I snuck into the living room, trying not to disturb his practice, to listen. He was playing a sonata I faintly recognized. I had heard him play it before.

Ben had been playing music his entire life. When we were young, our parents had started teaching us the piano. In two weeks Ben learned what had taken me months. It was hard not to be jealous of my brother's musical gift, as I loved music as much as he did.

I could not help but smile as I listened. Occasionally, when he wasn't satisfied with himself, he'd go back a few bars and play them again, even though to my non-musical ears it already sounded amazing. The emotion and care with which he could play! I had to remind myself there were other things in life I was good at.

I had been listening for a while when he finished his sonata. He took his bow off the strings and turned around, only then noticing me.

"Hey sis," he said, not at all disturbed by the fact that he'd had an audience. I used to play the clarinet, and sometimes still do, but I have always been terrified of playing for other people. Ben had played in our city's youth orchestra for a long time, and he had accumulated so much experience that he was completely comfortable when people listened in.

He was nineteen--two years my junior. He was a few inches taller than me, with short-cropped brown hair and a shy kind of handsomeness that I really liked on guys. Not that I looked at him that way, of course.

"Hey, Ben. It sounds good."

He grimaced. "Not really, but thanks anyway." He eyed the tall shoebox I had propped against the couch. "What've you got there?"

"I bought a new pair of boots today," I said, opening the box for him to see. "What do you think?"

I studied his reaction, and I knew. He was the one who had been moving my boots. He held his breath as he admired my purchase for far longer than anyone reasonably should have. "You'd look nice in them," he told me eventually.

I'd had a boyfriend with a fetish before. We've been broken up for months now, but he had always wanted to fuck me doggy-style and kept running his hands over my back. Though I thought it was a little weird, I didn't mind. I knew that a boot fetish was not the most uncommon fetish; I just never expected my little brother to have one, too.

"Aw, thanks, bro," I said, pecking him on the cheek. I packed up the boots and made for the staircase to go to my room.

"No, wait," Ben half-shouted.

I turned around to see him staring at me, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open. "What?" I asked.

*******

Fuck, I thought, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Amanda was staring at me, awaiting an answer. I did the only thing I could think of. I laid my violin on the couch and said, "I'm coming with you."

"Upstairs?" she asked.

"Yes," I forced myself to say. I did my best at coming up with a plausible story as to why, but the interrogations didn't come.

"All right," she simply said.

I screamed inwardly as Amanda went on the stairs before me. What if she saw?

I reached the top of the stairs behind her, and it was like I had been punched in the stomach when I saw it. I'd been so careless. From the stairs, I could look straight into my room. On my bed, straight within our sight, lay my favorite pair of Amanda's ankle boots, tangled in my sheets. Why had I not returned them, or at least shut my door?

Home alone, I'd gone into her room and taken the boots. In my room, I'd made love to them. They were amazing. They were made of black leather and had tall but cute blocked heels. I think they were also my sister's favorite, as she wore them a lot. First, I'd take in their scent. They weren't stinky, but they had a healthy, heavy smell that worn boots have. I'd been hard from the moment I grabbed them, but sticking my nose into them brought my erection to a whole new level. I had taken my clothes off and jumped into bed with them.

I licked the smooth leather, first tiny licks with the tip of my tongue, then using my whole tongue to wet the entire boot. I forced myself not to lick the soles clean, as Amanda would notice. The leather was at least easy to dry.

To finish, I would lie on my stomach. Then I would raise my hips, place a boot underneath, and lower my cock into it. The other boot I would place on my cushion, liking it while I fucked its friend. I had to pull out just before I cummed--it would be a disaster if Amanda stuck her foot into a cum-filled boot. It wasn't perfect, but I had to make do with what I had.

She immediately turned to her room, looking back at me with a sliver of a smile. "All right, we're here," she said, closing the door behind her.

She must think I am so weird, making such a fuss just to go upstairs with her, I thought. My relief at her not having seen the boots was great enough to drown out that concern. The feeling didn't last long, though. I was looking at the boots on my bed, thinking of how sexy they looked, when I realized they weren't supposed to be there. No, they were supposed to be in a drawer in Amanda's closet. What if she wanted to wear them, and they weren't there? That would almost be as bad as seeing them on my bed.

I tried to remain calm. If she looked into her closet now and found them missing, there was nothing I could do. I took the boots from my bed, stashing them beneath my pillow, so my sister wouldn't see them if she barged in to confront me. I settled down, waiting for her to leave her room. Then I'd sneak back in and put back the boots. It was the best plan I had.

With amusement I remembered a time when I'd worried it wasn't OK to fuck my sister's boots. I'd first done it two years ago, and, driven by impulse and desire, hadn't even thought about it. I'd only felt guilty afterward. What had I done?

That was different now. It wasn't as if I actually fucked Amanda; it was just her boots. And wow, was I lucky to have a sister who owned so many amazing pairs of boots. From time to time, however, she also starred in my erotic dreams, in those I had both asleep and awake. I knew it should be wrong, but I didn't doubt she appeared in the dreams of every guy that knew her.

Who could blame any of us guys? She was an amazing, stunning girl. Wicked smart, she made me feel stupid with nearly every conversation we had. She had completed her undergraduate in aerospace engineering in two years instead of the usual three, and I'd heard the study was so hard that many students failed to complete it in four. Her graduate degree, which she was now a few months into, wasn't much harder for her.

In addition, Amanda was as hot as she was smart. She'd dyed her hair blond, accentuating her sparkling green eyes, and she had a playful attitude that no guy could resist. I had resigned myself to the fact that I could never be with my hot sister. At least I could fuck her boots, which was more than any other guy could say, I thought with satisfaction.

Now that I thought of fucking her boots, I could not wait to dig her new pair of thigh highs out of her closet. It was always fun to watch her walk throughout the house in a pair of boots, and then take them for myself. Going over her knees, they would be far hotter than any other pair she owned.

I got bored waiting for Amanda to leave her room, so I did the most fun thing I could think of to pass the time. I took her ankle boots and started licking.

*******

I let myself fall onto my bed as soon as I entered my room. So that's why Ben had been acting so strange. He'd grown careless, not even returning my boots. He'd just left them on his bed when he finished doing... What did he do with them? I thought. I felt a quiver in my stomach as I thought of scenarios. He didn't just take them to look at...

Did he... lick them? That was so disgusting. I'd walked around in them, stepped in dirty places. But for that reason, he might just like it even more...

I got off my bed, and opened my closet to change outfits; I had some tutoring to do later tonight. I kicked off my shoes, and rid myself of my jeans, opting to go without panties in a more comfortable blue-and-white skirt. It was short, exactly the type I'd wear my new boots under if I wanted to impress a guy. I exchanged my top with a short sweater that left my belly button exposed.

Before I closed my closet, I crouched to look at my shoes. The boots were glaringly absent, in my brother's room with him. That tingling in my stomach had moved down a department, and I could not stop my hand from going under my skirt. I was getting wet, I felt as I ran my finger through my lips.

I shook my head and closed the door. I'd had some time to get accustomed to the fact that my brother was taking my boots. I didn't mind it as it was, but that didn't mean I should get turned on by it. As long as he returned them nicely in the future, he could go on doing it, for all I cared.

I went downstairs to prepare dinner for the two of us; our parents were out of town for the rest of the week. Our mother, a solo violinist, was performing a concerto in another city this weekend. They were away a lot, for that reason.

I heard rummaging upstairs when I was gathering ingredients for the pasta. Ben was returning my boots. Chuckling to myself, I decided to play with him. I called, "dinner's ready in fifteen!"

"OK." He'd muffled his reply to hide that he was in my room. It was still very obvious. When you've lived in the same house your entire life, you can hear by the acoustics which room someone is in.

At dinner, Ben was extremely awkward. By the time we were almost finished, he still hadn't said a word, and he cringed every time we made eye contact. "Hey bro, is everything all right?" I asked as sweetly and innocently as I could.

"Yes," he said, not looking up from his plate. That was good, because I was enjoying myself far too much, and I could not keep a smile from blooming on my face.

"Well, I have to go to my tutor hour soon, but if maybe...you want to discuss it, I'm all yours later tonight." It sounded dirty, but as I was climbing the stairs, I felt I was still wet. Skirts are useful like that. But maybe, I thought, I had meant it to be dirty. Had I been flirting with my little brother? Though I knew it shouldn't, that thought made me even more excited. He was a handsome young man, after all.

Before I could go to my tutor class--I was helping a class of undergraduates with their thermodynamics exercises--I had to pick out a pair of shoes to wear. At the top of the pile lay the ankle boots my brother had borrowed. I picked them up. They were wet, the leather glistening with his saliva. He'd licked them, and then he'd not even bothered to dry them before returning them.

I have a powerful imagination. I can recall sights from my memory, which was how I noticed Ben had been taking my boots in the first place, but I can also create completely new scenes. I was getting annoyed at the way he treated my possessions until I imagined my brother licking my boots, pressing them against his face, passionately running his tongue all over the leather.

That image made that earlier flutter in my stomach explode, returning a hundred times stronger than before. I gasped softly. He'd really been intimate with my boots, and his saliva was the remnant of him showing his affection for them. Slowly, I sat on my bed, completely taken with my boots and my brother's saliva on them.

I set one boot down on my bared lap, and its touch sent a shiver through my entire body. The other I held delicately in both hands, raising it to my face. I am a woman of reason, but even I know there are times to throw reason completely out of the door.

I stuck my tongue out, licking the toe of my boot with the tip of my tongue and mingling my brother's saliva--which had cooled during dinner--with mine. It was wet and tasted faintly of leather.

There was a moment of consideration. My tongue no longer touched the leather but it still hung out of my mouth, close to the boot. Was I kissing my brother through my boots?

This time when I licked my boot, I didn't do it with the tip of my tongue, but with the whole of my tongue. I scooped up all of Ben's saliva with my tongue, replacing it with my saliva on the leather. I moved to sit on my knees and placed the other boot under my skirt. I gasped as my brother's cooled saliva touched the lips of my pussy. Grinding my pussy into my boot, I understood why he had taken them. They were sexy. They were sex itself. Wearing them, I was...walking sex.

I got up with a boot in each hand. One I was licking, the other I kept rubbing against my pussy. I moved to watch myself in front of the mirror. I knew I was sexy, but the boots... they made me so much more.

The clanging of Ben doing the dishes downstairs brought me back to reality. Shit, I was late for my tutor class!

For a moment, I was at a loss for what to do. I started by removing my boot from my pussy. I was still standing in my socks. I cast a look at the tall shoebox standing against the wall. They were maybe a little much for the occasion. But what better to wear than... I wiped my boots dry on the sheets of my bed, sat down and shoved my feet into the boots. Once I had zipped them up, I straightened my legs in front of me to admire them. My feet felt so comfortable in them. I wriggled my toes. They were so sexy. My hand crept under my skirt again...

No! I was already running five minutes late, and I take a long time to orgasm. It would at least be another thirty minutes before I could get the release I wanted. Frustrated, I ran down the stairs, looping through the kitchen before getting into the car. "I'm running late, but I'll see you later tonight," I said to Ben. The kiss I gave his cheek was intended as a soft brush of the lips, but I was running and lost control, almost crashing into him. I managed to slow down in time, though the result was that the kiss I gave Ben was very wet.

He didn't even seem to notice as he was staring at the ground. At my boots. Maybe I shouldn't have worn them so soon after the incident this afternoon. I threw the thought out immediately. They were my boots, and my, did I enjoy wearing them! I would do so whenever I pleased.

The drive to campus was one of the hardest trips ever. It was only five minutes away, but I drove like a maniac to make up for my lateness. What didn't help either was that I could stop thinking of what I was handling the pedals with. I wanted to pull over to the side of the road, pull up my knees beside the wheel, lift my skirt and grind the heels of my boots against my pussy while wearing them.

The tutor hour was awful. My heels resounded through the classroom as I moved from student to student, a constant reminder of what I wore but couldn't touch. But it was worse than that. In my class of fifteen, there were several other girls wearing boots. None of those boots were as tall and hot as my new boots--which Ben had probably already taken from my room--yet that didn't matter. Boots were boots. Leaning over one girl, explaining how to apply the second law, all I could really think of was her grinding her Dr. Martens into my crotch.

I cursed my brother for awakening this hunger for boots inside me. Was awakening the right word? That would mean the potential had been there all along. Perhaps it ran in the family. My brother had it, I had it, and come to think of it, our father had it too.

Parents are role models, and with my perfect recall, I'd subconsciously gathered many memories of their flirting, learning how to myself. It had been a while before I figured out what I was doing, but well... the memories were still there. And they all shared a pattern.

My mother often wore boots, and I noticed that almost always coincided with when my father initiated their flirting, hugging her tighter, kissing her more passionately.

I sighed. It wasn't really my brother's fault. I guessed love for boots just ran in the family.

The tutor hour was finally over. I almost ran into the ladies room to fuck myself with the boots I wore on my feet. I was overflowing with a love for boots that had been suppressed for years. It was the first time with boots, however, and I wanted to do it right.

*******

Bless Amanda for buying her new boots.

When she left, I finished the dishes as quickly as I could. The hour I had gave me ample opportunity to take her new boots and fuck them, but I was eager to have them, and after the debacle this afternoon, I wanted to be extra careful and take the time to return them exactly how they'd been.

There's an amazing thrill to sneaking into my sister's room. The creaking as I push the door open, silently pulling on the doorknob as I open her closet to then escape with a pair of boots. I took my phone with me, photographing the placement of the box and the boots inside before I took them. When I was done, I would know precisely how to put everything back.

I put the boots on my bed, getting out of my clothes. I was already fully erect, precum oozing out of me. These were a new kind of boots for me, and I had to figure out how best to fuck them. I had to be careful not to get my cum on the suede. It would be hard to properly clean and Amanda would notice. I couldn't lick the suede either. It would take too long to dry.

I could still put my cock inside. It wasn't the same as with her ankle boots, though; these boots had two-foot tall shafts for her legs, and if empty, they hung flaccid. It would be best if a pair of female legs and feet filled them out, but you have to make do with what you can get. I took my usual boot-fucking position--one boot under my pelvis, filling it with my cock, the other on my pillow, licking it all over. I made good use of the shaft. While I was licking the boot's still-clean sole, I wrapped the suede shaft around my neck. The material felt incredible on my skin.