Anderson Family Journals #03

Abbey head shake and sigh said she wasn't happy with my answer, but on the bright side, maybe her tits would grow a little in the next two years. I need to stop thinking about my sister's tits. Man, but I wished Abbey had been born a boy. Right after that thought hit me, I compared Abbey to Diana, thinking that a second sister wasn't so bad. I won't lie, the twisted reasons behind that comparison sent me off to the shower to get my mind clean.

A few friends called me later that night and asked why I was spending all of my time indoors. That was a good question. Diana wasn't home, so why was I at home? I didn't go out. I'm turning into a pussy--was what I would have said if I weren't such a badass wrestler. Only Diana's ex, Roy, another senior, was better than me last year, but he's a weight class above me. It's close between us, almost too close, and he's getting a full ride to Northwestern while I'm considering Stanford's offer. I'm not only brawn; I've got the brains too, except when Diana opens her fucking mouth.

Mom came home tipsy that night, and a bit pissed off.

"Good night?" I asked. It was late, I was wearing only my tight, cotton boxer-briefs, and I was in the kitchen getting a bottle of water when she had come through the front door.

No, you little fucker, was the look she gave me, but then her expression softened and she smiled at me.

"Wrestling is working out for you," Mom said, glassy-eyed. She stood straighter and smiled strangely at me, the new posture pushing her big breasts against the low-cut neckline of her cocktail dress. Yoga was working out for her.

"It keeps me in shape," I said.

Mom told me that she could tell. Maybe she was more than a little tipsy. A lot fucking more. She walked up to me and told me that I shouldn't walk around the house without a shirt or proper shorts. When I asked why, she said, "You'll distract your sister's friends." She didn't say which sister, nor did she say which friends, but it didn't matter. Mom's body swayed as she left the kitchen.

"Do you need me to help you to your bed?" I asked.

Mom stopped and shook her head, mumbling something like, "That would be the day," without turning around. Then she mentioned how much she looked forward to wrestling season, then she laughed, then she mentioned how all of the mothers were looking forward to wrestling season. She mentioned: "Mothers always compare their sons to each other's, but they know mine is the best."

"Second best," I said. "Roy has the edge, but I'm close. I can feel it. I'm getting better, but he's staying the same."

Mom wasn't paying attention to my words. She turned to look at me. Her eyes moved up and down my body before she said, "Your the best for what we mothers discuss." How drunk was she? "Your father was a wrestler, but you know that. Your leotard fits you better than it did him."

"Singlet," I said. Fucking hell. "I wear a singlet, not a leotard."

"Don't grow up to be your father," Mom said. Her eyes moved over me again. "Well, not completely like him. He was useful for some things."

She left the kitchen and turned around again right before rounding the corner. She told me to hug her, so I did, and she mumbled something about me being bigger than my father. Stronger. I'm not going to lie: this freaked me out a little bit. It gave me the chills, but whether they were the good kind or the bad kind, I don't know. That night I jerked off to short-haired blonde MILF porn, but I'm a teenager, so all porn stars are MILFs, right?

Sunday: Day into Night

Diana returned home in the late afternoon. I was in the pool with Abbey at the time. Her friends had not come over. Mom had not gone to brunch, and Abbey didn't want her friends over when Mom was around. What was that girl up to? It had to do with boys, I'm not stupid, and Mom watches Abbey through the crosshairs of a scope. She watches Diana as well, but Abbey had been with our father for the first five years of her life, so I wondered if that made Abbey seem younger in Mom's eyes. It did in mine. I knew it did in Diana's, too.

Anyway, Diana found us outside when got home. She mentioned Abbey's swimsuit. My little sister was wearing two-piece instead of her usual one-piece, but there was nothing sexy about it. Abbey said she wanted some bikinis like the ones Diana wore--fucking G-strings that gave Mom a heart attack whenever she saw them--which made Diana laugh, but she promised our little sister to buy some for her one day. They sounded like they were being sarcastic to each other, but we're triplets, so I heard the truth in their words.

After some friendly talk with Abbey, Diana said to me, "Eleven o'clock," before going back into the house.

"What does that mean?" Abbey asked. "Are you guys going out tonight? Can I come?"

I sent a wave of water into my little sister's elfish face, and then I swam to the deep end of the pool because I had to conceal half a hard-on, and I didn't need Abbey seeing that, or worse, feeling it.

The sun couldn't go down fast enough for me that day, and the night couldn't pass quickly enough. Every minute sent an anxious pulse through my body. I wanted to fucking go, but there was nowhere to go. I sat in my room with my energy seeping from my body in little waves of heat, trying to push Time forward by the sheer force of my will, but that's like digging your heels into the ground and trying to push over the Incredible Hulk.

Every tick of my mental clock bore a hole into my brain that tensed my muscles. I jerked off twice before eleven struck. Mom stopped by my room, apologizing for being drunk last night. She knocked on my door while I was in mid-stroke and told me to let her in. I had to push my cock straight up against my stomach and cinch the ties on my basketball shorts to keep the beast in place. Even then, I walked with a forward hunch to my shoulders so that my shirt would hang away from my body as much as possible. Mom gave me the most awkward hug in the world after her apology, and she kissed me on my cheek. I had to move my head while shifting my crotch away from her stomach, and she ended up kissing me on about a quarter of my lips.

"Oops," Mom said. I caught the faintest whiff of wine on her breath. "Don't tell anyone I was your first kiss." She laughed and went to her room. If not for my hard-on making the situation awkward, Mom's comment may have.

Oh, and my mother wasn't my first kiss.

Sunday: Night

I stood at my sister's door five minutes before eleven. When the time came, I entered her room and locked her door seconds past the hour. Diana watched me lock her door. She didn't say anything, but she did nod, and then she went back to reading her magazine. She lay on her bed as I stood there watching her, unsure of what she wanted me to do next.

A black mini-sleep shirt covered her upper body, a pajama top of black satin with white trim, but of a size too small. I'd never seen a shirt like that before. It had a low slicing collar with only two buttons fastened, one even with her nipples and one even with the bottom swell of her breasts. The tan roundness of her cleavage was open to my eyes. The tails hung even with her ribs, flaring outward and away so that I could see her entire abdomen. Her black satin boyshorts had white trim around its edges, and they were small, but loose-fitting so that if she sat with her legs crossed, I'd probably be able to see right up to the V of her panties.

As I said, Diana lay in the center of her bed, reading a magazine. She read with her body outstretched and her legs together with her ankles crossed. I waited about five minutes for her to finish reading whatever article it was that kept her eyes tick-tocking across the page. A splash of relief crawled over my skin when she looked up at me, calming my twitching muscles.

"Grab my lotion," Diana said. "You cleaned my room. I'm going to thank you by letting you put lotion on my legs before I go to bed." She looked down at her magazine. "And do them slowly. Make sure to really get that lotion into my skin."

I didn't bother checking what kind of lotion my sister used, but I grabbed the bottle on her vanity desk and went to her bed. She lay in the center near the headboard, against her pillows, so I had to crawl onto her bed. She opened her legs, and I knelt between them. Her shorts tightened beneath her thighs, pressing the satin against her skin so that I couldn't see up her leg holes. Still, her small, thin shorts pressed right against the inverted pyramid between her thighs, and there was I couldn't tell if my sister was wearing panties by the way her meaty cameltoe swelled against her boyshorts.

I didn't hesitate. I wanted to touch her skin--her body--again. As I squeezed the lotion into my hands, a blur of thoughts cycled through my head so fast that only my unconscious mind understood them.

This was wrong.

This was weird.

This wasn't how brothers and sisters interacted.

Was my sister molesting me? Hashtag Me-Fucking-Too? How fucking stupid! I was a eighteen-year-old man with a man's body and a man's muscles and a man's strength, but with the intense sexual drive of a teenager. Diana couldn't molest me even if she tried, but she could torture the hell out of me--but she wasn't making me do anything I didn't want to do, was she? Other thoughts battered my brain, but fuck those thoughts. I was all about sliding my hands over my sister's feet and then higher.

Diana continued to read her magazine, but I heard the soft flutter of the pages as she lowered the upper edge to look at me. I ran my fingers over her feet, and her calves tensed. I don't know why, but I held her left foot in my hand and feathered the sole of her foot with my free fingertips. Diana's breath caught, and when I looked up, she had closed her eyes, and there was an intense expression masking her face.

Sensitive feet, I thought, so I feathered the sole of her other foot the same way. My sister started to pull away from me, but I locked my fingers around her ankle and kept her there. I didn't look up, but her eyes bore into me. I brushed the sole of her right foot several times, not tickling her, barely whispering my skin against hers. Diana shivered and tried to pull her foot away again, but I didn't let her. She didn't get mad. Diana's breathing had changed to quiet pants by the time I had finished.

I worked each of her calves slowly, as she had told me to do. I pushed my fingertips into her muscles, creating white comet trails across her skin, my fingers dimpling her flesh as I stroked her limbs. Diana moaned softly--for me? Maybe, I don't know, but when a series of hungry sounds left her mouth, I pushed harder, and she moaned deeper. She liked it. Maybe she moaned for both of us.

My rock-hard cock was unmistakable through my shorts when I reached my sister's thighs. Her amazing fucking thighs, strong and coltish, thickest with muscle at mid-thigh and hamstring, and then tapering up to her hip and down to her knees. I stayed away from my sister's inner thigh, but she had said to lotion her legs, and that meant all of her legs, didn't it?

By now, Diana had set her magazine down. She lay on her pillows with her eyes closed and her hands near her sides. Her fingertips curled over the bed, open--closed--open--closed, digging furrows into her black sheets. Her breath shook. She looked so fucking sensual as she absorbed my touch that I wanted to come.

"My thighs," Diana whispered, her words trembling as they left her lips. "Make sure you rub lotion into them everywhere."

I had done all but the insides of her legs, where her skin was softest. At her knees, I curved my hands downward, fingers pointed straight toward her soft center, my thumbs lying on the curve of her inner thighs toward the back of her thighs. I pushed upward.

My world spun, and my heart thundered. I could hear my breathing amplify within my head. Could my sister hear it? I pushed my fingers up and over the softer inner flesh of her thighs. God, she was so soft and hot down there. At mid-thigh, Diana's breath caught. I raised my eyes, transfixed by the rolling of her stomach and the slow rise and fall of her breasts. The tightness of my sister's face caused my cock to jump, and her high cheeks appeared more defined than usual as the tendons of her neck strained outward. The breath of a blush frosted her skin. What I realized left my mouth dry. I had some control over my sister, didn't I?

The higher my fingers went, the faster my sister panted. Her hands moved to the sides of her thighs and then upward. Diana slipped her fingers beneath the leg holes of her shorts and pulled, not stopping until she had reached her hips, turning her shorts into a pair of panties. She had revealed the entire side of her leg to me, as well as a quarter of her ass cheeks, and the center of her crotch bulged outward in a vision of three-dimensional sex.

Fuck me.

My fingers continued moving higher, slowly, and I added pressure to their movements that opened my sister's thighs wider. The higher I went, the narrower the gap between her legs became, and for a moment--only for a moment--I nearly hesitated. But Diana doesn't like it when I hesitate, so I moved up her inner thighs until my fingers touched the leg holes of her shorts that cut upward at sharp angles from her perineum to her hip bones.

Diana shivered.

I rotated my fingers so that the long curve of skin extending from my thumbs to my forefingers lay against the swell of my sister's inner thighs. I moved higher again, pushing the lotion on the underside of my hands into my sister's flesh. Her breathing deepened. My thumbs and forefingers created a bracket against the edges of her shorts, and my thumbs reached so low that I touched the inner swells of her bare ass cheeks where they joined the backs of her thighs.

I held her, not knowing what to do next. Her shorts had gathered tightly around the curve of her mound and her pussy meat swelled against the satin shield digging into her soft cleft. Fuck me; I was in Heaven.

Diana licked her lips. She moved her hips several times, up and down in a wave-like motion that slid her flesh against my fingers. I wanted to do more, and finally, god it took so fucking long to move my hands, I rotated my thumbs upward. The tips pushed under the leg holes of her shorts right below her perineum, and I felt nothing but hot, wet flesh against my skin. The entire length of my dick jerked and a wad of pre-cum so thick it may have have been cum shot through my shaft and into my shorts.

I moaned.

My sister smiled.

The warmth between her legs dampened my hands from my fingertips to the heels of my palms. I didn't want this to end.

I knew I was brushing the barest edges of my sister's outer labia as I feathered my thumbs across the grooves that swept inward from her inner thighs to her pubis, and then I was moving away from the heat between her legs. I pushed harder into her soft skin, making my sister utter a deep moan, and when I pulled my fingers away from her pussy, I made sure to try and pull her outer lips away from each other. I tried to open her cherry-vanilla crease. She moaned again when I finally felt the soft flesh between her legs snap away from my thumbs. Before I could repeat my actions, my sister stopped me by taking my hands in hers and holding them tight.

"You did a good thing when you cleaned my room," Diana whispered, her voice shaky and her cheeks a wonderful deep pink. "You can go back to your room now and think about my legs, but only once tonight, understand?" She licked her lips quickly. "Only once, Tim."

I nodded my head. I understood my sister completely.

"Did you enjoy that?" Diana asked, smiling, but then her smile faded away and her eyes burned into mine. "Do you enjoy pushing your thumbs against the edges of pussy?"

Fuck me.

"Your sister's pussy?"

Fuck me twice.

Had my sister actually ask me that question, or had I gone insane?

I nodded my head.

"I'm not wearing panties right now," Diana whispered, "because they're dirty." She squeezed my hands. "Not all of my panties are dirty, just the ones I was wearing before you knocked on my door. I accidentally soaked them in cream. And since the ones I had chosen for you were dirty, I decided to take them off before you got here."

I almost filled my shorts with cum.

"I want you to come to my room every Friday and collect my dirty panties. I want you to wash them for me." Diana held my gaze as she talked, nodding the entire time. I found myself nodding with her. "I'll wash the rest of my clothes, but I want you, and only you, to wash my dirty panties. Understand?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Good," Diana said. "Now go to your room and think about my legs, but only once."

Fuck me, but I did what she told me to do and nothing else.

I couldn't wait for tomorrow.

Timmy out.

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Next time on the Anderson Family Journals, "A Surprise for Timmy."

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