Don't Overthink It! Pt. 02

That day, we both went to work as usual. I was upbeat on my way to work, relieved that the tension in the air had been cleared.

On the way to work I reflected on how we'd got to where we were. Inviting my little sister, Joan, to the nude beach all those months ago had set off the chain of events that had led to her stroking my cock on the couch.

She had been intent on taking the blame for the night before, but, in my mind, my ongoing encouragement of her behaviour made me equally culpable.

I came home that evening physically and mentally drained from work. I was having a nightmare week and running on fumes under a tight deadline.

It was hot. Headlines about a heatwave appeared on the front page of most of the national newspapers. No less interesting to me were headlines about the nation's surging interest in naturism. Surveys revealed large swathes of the population were increasingly going naked.

Joan was already on the couch when I got in. She was wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt. I went to change out of my work clothes to join her. Stripping off my work clothes, I considered returning to the lounge room naked, but decided to follow my sister's lead and put on some underpants before joining her on the couch.

"How was your day?" she said quietly.

"Brutal," I said. "Shitkicking work this week. Miles of spreadsheets. Feel like I'm going blind."

"Don't you have minions to do that kind of work?"

I was a finance manager at a consulting firm. Typically it's exciting work, handling strategic risk for big businesses with lots of money to throw around. Sometimes, however, it's just glorified accounting.

"They already did," I replied. "The numbers don't add up. So I've got to do it over. Lots of moving parts."

I was physically aching from the day's work. I'd been using the mouse more than usual, which was creating stiffness in my neck and upper back.

"Sore shoulders?" she asked.

"Desk jockey syndrome," I replied. "Nothing a good massage can't fix."

"I am actually very good at massage," she said.

My eyes went wide. "Really? How's that then?"

"I got really into it during the pandemic, when everyone was stuck at home. I learned about all the muscles in the body. Would you like me to take a look?"

"That would be amazing."

We went to her bedroom, where she bade me lie face-down on the bed. She opened a drawer in her bedside table and pulled out what looked like a bar of soap. "This is a massage bar. It melts on contact with skin. Just relax."

Closing my eyes, I heard the soft squishing sound of the bar melting in her hands, then felt her hands gliding gently along my upper back to my shoulders.

She began to work a point near my shoulder blade with her fingers. "This is a common one. It's usually new parents lifting small children."

She began to work her way along a muscle connecting my shoulder blade to my neck. "The erector spinae. This muscle group actually runs all the way down your back, from the base of the skull to the base of the spine."

She started working her way down my back and toward my buttocks. "Do you mind if I pull these boxers down a bit?"

"Take them off if it's easier," I said.

"I still feel guilty about last night," she said, pulling the waistband down to the bottom of my buttocks. She steadily worked the muscles in my buttocks, pressing hard.

"Don't," I said. "I was the one who imposed my nudity on you in the first place."

"It's not sexual for you, though, is it?" she said.

The official naturist answer to this question is: it is not sexual. The reality is a bit more complicated, however. Humans are sexual creatures.

"When you first saw my penis," I said, "when you first properly looked at it, in the carpark that first time, you remember, you got embarrassed for staring?"

"I remember."

"Were you horny?"

She switched back to my shoulder, this time climbing on top of me. "I hope you don't mind if I straddle you like this. It gives me a better angle."

I could feel her weight on my lower back. She wasn't wearing underpants under that shirt. I imagined those tender pussy lips of hers brushing against my spine.

"I'm not sure what I felt," she replied. "Curious. Not horny."

"I reckon curiosity and horniness are easily confused," I said. "They're both kinds of desire - to see, to touch, to experience - and you can have both at the same time."

She worked her way down to my buttocks again, giving them a bit of a gentler touch this time. She clearly knew what she was doing. My shoulder felt better already.

"Do you trust me?" I asked her.

"Yes."

"Then you should trust yourself."

"All done!" she said, pulling my boxers back up.

"Thank you so much!" I said, rolling over.

I must have had a very noticeable bulge in my boxers. She couldn't help but glance at it. The eyes are naturally drawn.

I said nothing, but lifted my butt off the bed.

She reached into the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down my legs. I lifted my feet off the bed so she could remove them. She flung them onto the floor of her bedroom.

Then, as she gazed at my exposed penis, I saw that smile again, the one she'd had seeing it hard for the first time. The look of curiosity being satisfied.

"Want to take that top off?" I said.

She removed the t-shirt in one graceful movement and flung it on the floor.

"Can I squeeze you?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "Can I squeeze you?"

"Yes."

She wrapped her warm little hand around my erect penis. I took her breasts in my hands, her hardening nipples pressed into my palms.

These body parts are very sensitive. We were both careful to try not to stimulate each other too much. Nevertheless, after a bit of gentle touching, I think we were both pretty aroused.

"Oh, Will. Feel how wet I am," she said, lifting herself from the bed.

I slid one hand between her legs, feeling the open and engorged slit with my fingers. Sure enough, my fingers came away wet, a thin string of sticky pussy juice connecting me to her.

"Alone time?" she said, hopping off me.

"Agreed," I replied, and got up to make my way to my room. "See you on the couch in thirty seconds."

She laughed.

Sure enough, we were soon both back in the lounge room, both fully naked. Joan was on the couch when I walked in. The TV was off.

"The remote's under the couch," she said. "My arms aren't long enough to reach."

I came over to where she was sitting and looked under the couch. I could see the remote, way back against the wall. Reaching under, I pulled it out, and went to rise to my knees.

When my eyes were level with the couch seat, I paused. Joan had scooched forward on the couch. Her pussy was right in front of my face, those parted lips between her spread legs, still wet from earlier, her scent filling my nose.

If I stuck my tongue out, I realised, I could just about reach her clit.

Over the following weeks, I noticed that, if, for example, I was lying on the couch, Joan would come over and kneel on the edge, right next to my head. If I was lying on my bed, she would kneel on the bed next to me, her pussy right next to my face.

If I turned my head to admire her little pussy, she would, perhaps unconsciously, thrust her hips forward, as though she wanted me to lick it.

I never took the bait, but I would, on occasion, for example, go into her bedroom, where she was sat at her desk, and get close enough to reach for the thing on the desk I wanted to borrow. If she was on the couch, I might hang a painting on the wall behind her, or adjust the painting already there, putting the head of my cock right next to her face, moving my hips to follow her mouth with it.

She only smiled at my cock, or at me. The way she licked her lips suggested she wanted to lick the head of my cock. Of course, that would be against the rules.

This ongoing and unacknowledged game of chicken amounted to all the naughtiness in the household for a couple of weeks, apart from a few small squeezes here and there. Neither of us was brave enough to lick the other.

Soon the September nude swim came around.

"This might be the last one while the weather's warm," I told Joan.

"I'm not sure I can be bothered," she replied.

Nevertheless, when the evening came, we both went down together. We got undressed in the car park, took the backpack down to the beach and set up on the sand.

I noticed Dave nearby and thought it might be good to check in. I hadn't seen him in two months.

"Will!" Dave greeted me as we approached. "How have you been, mate?"

"Never seen you, Dave!"

We caught up briefly, lamenting the inevitable thinning of the crowds on the beach with the shortening days. Dave asked Joan how she'd been enjoying it.

"I've been enjoying it a lot!" she replied. "Thanks for being so welcoming the first time."

"My pleasure," he said. "You still living in the area?"

"Yes. With Will in fact. It was meant to be temporary," she explained, "but I'm just saving so much money."

"You two aren't at each other's throats yet, then?" Dave said.

"I would have thought so too," I said, "but honestly it's been nice to have someone else cook sometimes."

Just then, a young woman approached us from the carpark. At first I didn't recognise her.

"Hi there!" she greeted us.

"You're Dave's friend from out of town," I said.

"Yes!" she replied. "I'm back."

"Janine," Dave said to her, "This is Will and Joan."

"Nice to meet you," she said. "It's nice to see another woman on the beach," she said to Joan.

While they were chatting, I was distracted trying to place her accent. Possibly German? As you might imagine, I was taking a few discreet glances as well.

Janine was very attractive. Her breasts weren't as perky as Joan's, but they were larger. She wasn't shaved like Joan was, but her neatly trimmed blonde pubic hair looked soft and light in the sun.

"Well," she said, turning to me. "Shall we go for a swim?"

As we walked down to the sea, Janine, evidently the extravert of the group, chattered away at Dave.

"Have you had a good look at her bits yet?" Joan asked me.

"Of course," I replied.

"I like the way she keeps her pubic hair," she confided. "How would you feel going down on that?"

"Joan!" I chided playfully.

"What?" She grinned.

"To be serious, I actually quite like a little pubic hair. It's sexy, as long as it's not going up my nose." Then, after a pause, "Of course, I like it clean-shaven too, if that's what you're asking."

She shot a significant look at me, but said nothing.

Dave and Janine were already in the water. Joan and I had lagged behind a little, so we ran to catch up.

The four of us enjoyed the water for a while, before Janine suggested we have a "chicken fight". Getting blank looks from the rest of us, she explained, "The girls get on the guys' shoulders. You have to push the other one off into the water."

"Oh, like shoulder wars," Joan said. "Yeah, let's do it!"

Dave and I weren't going to chicken out. We were soon crouched in the water to let the girls on. Once I felt my sister's taut thighs either side of my face, I rose to my feet.

The chicken fight was on! I kept my eyes alternately on Dave, to outmanoeuvre him where I could, and on Janine, to anticipate her attacks, and maybe to watch her boobs bounce a little, I'm only human.

Joan and I operated like a well-oiled machine, moving as one in the face of Dave and Janine's attempts to separate us.

The whole time I imagined I could feel my sister's pussy pressed against the base of my neck. How I longed to touch it with my fingers again, as I had after the massage.

Ultimately, we prevailed! Janine was soon in the water, Dave turning to help her up. I crouched in the water. Once my head was under, I turned and pressed my nose and mouth into my sister's pussy.

Then I stood up, quickly, and tipped her backward. She went into the water with a shriek, her legs following, her body folding at her cute little butt. She re-emerged and splashed me.

"Sneaky!" she said.

On the drive home, she mused to me, "You know, I might have a bath tonight. It might be good for your muscles, too, by the way. Would you like to join me?"

"Will we both fit, do you think?"

"I'm sure it will be cosy," she said, slowly, "but I think that's OK."

We got home and stripped off our clothes. Joan went to run the bath, sighing loudly as steam filled the room. When the bath was full, we submersed ourselves in the piping hot water, facing each other.

"Do you have any soap?" Joan asked me.

"On the edge of the bath, behind you."

She turned, looking behind her on both sides. "Oh," she said, "I think it might have fallen in." Then, she turned her whole body, getting on her hands and knees.

Her asshole and pussy were right in front of my face. They looked sparkling clean, dripping bathwater. On impulse, I gave her perfect pink pussy one big long lick from clit to taint.

She moaned, then "found" the soap, and returned to her seated position, and said... nothing. As she scrubbed herself with the soap, sighing contentedly, I finally understood the game we were playing.

Testing my hypothesis, I got up on my knees to reach the shelf behind her, above the bath, where I kept a bottle of bath soak.

Sure enough, I felt a warm, tiny little tongue tip, right in the slit on the head of my cock, then a little flutter back and forth, around the rim, along the frenulum, the sensitive spot right at the front of the head of the penis.

Grabbing the bottle, I sat back down in the bath and poured the soak into the water. All in all, it was a very pleasant bath indeed. We didn't talk much. We didn't need to.

Later, after we got out, we went to the couch, as we normally did, and watched TV. She lay with her head in my lap. I gave her a squeeze between the legs. She squeezed me back.

"I was thinking," she said. "When we go for 'alone time', presumably we're just thinking about each other's naked bodies. Is that a fair assumption?"

"It is," I replied.

"So I have a question."

"Shoot."

"If I masturbated in front of you, would that be intentionally sexual?"

"Breaking the ground rules? Not as long as you had my consent. That's just being comfortable with each other's bodies."

"If I wanted to watch you masturbate, would that be intentionally sexual?"

"With my consent? That's just being curious about each other's bodies."

"What about both at the same time? We masturbate in view of each other."

I imagined the scenario, played it out in my head. "Yes," I said, "I think that would basically be the same thing. Nothing inherently sexual in any of this."

"In that case," she said, "next 'alone time', do you maybe just want to stay in my room?"

"That sounds delightful," I agreed.

Throughout this conversation, we had been squeezing each other's genitals. Maybe more than squeezing. It's the most natural thing in the world.

"Alone time?" she said.

We went to her bedroom. She threw herself on the bed and gestured to me to join her. I got on the bed on my knees between her legs.

She was already playing with her nipples. "You look good, big brother," she said to me as I got closer. "Let me touch you."

I positioned myself close enough to her for her to wrap one hand around my cock. As she did so, I ran my fingertips along her slit. She was deliciously wet.

She took my balls in her other hand, and teased the head of my cock with her thumb.

I squeezed with her breasts with my hands, then ran one finger down her abdomen to her pussy, where I started drawing circles around her clit.

"Mm-hmm," she replied, her eyes closing.

Before very long, I warned her that I was close.

"Yes," she moaned. "Jack yourself for me, Will. I want to watch."

We took over from each other and watched each other closely. For my part, at least, I was curious to see how she got herself off.

Then, she moaned.

It was enough to send me over the edge. I shot ropes of cum across her body, covering her with semen.

She started spasming underneath me, moaning more and more loudly.

"Sorry!" I said, redirecting the flow of cum from my cock back onto my own belly.

She let out a long sigh. Then, opening her eyes, she fingered the long strings of her older brother's semen traced in lines across her abdomen. "Fuck," she said, "that is so hot."

"I can't believe I just came all over your body."

"You didn't mean to," she reassured me. "You can let yourself off the hook."

After I towelled us both down, my sweet baby sister nodded off. Leaving her snoring in her bed, I went to my own bed, and soon fell asleep.

The next morning, meeting in the kitchen, she gave me a big hug. "Oh, Will," she said, "I haven't slept that well in a long time."

The next few weeks saw the days drawing in and the evenings getting darker. The way I write these stories, you might think of Joan and me as degenerate weirdos fingering and licking each other all the time.

In the real world, much of our lives were very ordinary. I had mates I played poker with, Joan did parkruns. I write about the things Joan and I were getting up to in the downtime, because that's where the pertinent action was taking place.

You'll never hear about them, but the very ordinary people you know all have their secrets, things you would judge them for.

Maybe you have your own.

Since I'm in the middle of a digression anyway, here's a question for the reader: how many naturists (or nudists) do you know? If you said, "None," I'm delighted to inform you that you are wrong. Have fun figuring out who it is!

One night, Joan came home with a large flat-pack cardboard box. "I've got my hands on a proper desk chair like yours," she greeted me coming down the hallway, "with wheels and an adjustable back."

"Good plan," I said, taking the box from her hands and putting it in her room for her. "How was your day?"

"Fine, no stress," she said, taking a bag of groceries into the kitchen. "Not more than usual anyway."

Joan was a customer service department head at an office furniture retailer. My understanding is that she handled the business clients, very high value and, therefore, able to put a lot of pressure on the business when they weren't happy.

Evidently, she was good at her job. I was always surprised she rarely came home as stressed as I might expect.

The first thing she did, coming back to her room, was strip off her clothes with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"Right," she said. "I'm going to jump in the shower. Can you open that box for me? I might need your help setting it up."

While my sister was showering, I took the chair parts out of the box and started piecing them together, pausing only to get a screwdriver from the kitchen.

Joan walked in just as I was starting to screw the screws into the base of the chair.

"Would you like to put the seat together for me?" I said.

She grabbed the remaining pieces and slotted them together according to the instructions.

"This bit," she said, indicating the metal tab on the bottom of the seat, "fits into there," pointing at the slot in the top of the base, "I presume."

"I should imagine so," I replied, screwing the last screw in. "Give it a go," I said, stepping back.

The seat fell into place with a clunk. She sat on the chair, and tried the levers underneath. They didn't work.

"Let me take a look," I said, getting on my knees between her legs. I could see the problem straight away - the panel with the levers was sticking out of the pole.

"Jump up a sec," I said.

She did so.

I gave her pussy a lick from bottom to top.

"Yes," she said, almost inaudibly.

I smacked the panel in. "Now, get back on."

She returned to her seat and immediately dropped a full four inches with a bit of a squeal.

I laughed.

"Sneaky!" she said. She turned the seat back and forth, adjusting the various levers until she was comfortable.