Getting to Know You

It was only the faint melancholy lament that led me to peer into her bedroom, just wishing to reassure myself that everything was alright. Things had taken a rough turn in her life. At first hearing some unaccustomed gruntings and groans coming from behind closed doors, I had the uncomfortable notion that I was hearing the smothered sounds of a woman fingering her own pussy to the brink of ecstasy but trying to muffle the excitement of her climax. I doubted that was what was really happening but my own organ started to expand and I just had to sneak a peek. Then as I slowly, silently edged the door open with my foot, I did a double-take.

The first thing that caught my eye was the bottoms of both her bare feet. The small, rounded heels with the softened flesh lightly tarnished by dust and the brighter pink soles, with the slight wrinkles as they're curled beneath her. Then ten little toes, each one dotted with a grey smudge. She was on her knees facing away from me so that just her small feet and luscious rump were visible- infact her entire upper body was mostly concealed from my vision. I don't have a foot fetish at all but seeing those bare feet from this angle did nothing to soften the effect of my bulging cock.

Just inches above her tiny feet, the hot-pink fabric of her panties was stretched taut across the firm, plump globes of her inviting ass. The filmy material held her so tightly secure that it appeared to be painted on to her undulating hips. She slithered back and forth on the worn oak floor from side to side, pushing with one tightly muscled leg then the other. And she continued to make those straining, groaning sounds that I knew now, were not because of anything sexual.

It looked as though she were swimming on solid wood. Each sideways stride showed tempting glances of her inner thighs and the serpentine movements of her spread legs showed hairless flesh as far as my straining eyes could see. And then I could only imagine the rest. The darker crack of her butt was delicately curved, when flexed, the satiny fabric stiffened and when relaxed, the clingy material climbed into her sweat-dampened ass cheeks, sometimes seeming to be sucked-in to the tight cavern. The top of her butt, forming from a narrow cleft of skin exposed above the elastic waistband of her undies and the bottom disappearing into some enticing shadow between the bountiful folds of her hidden treasure lured me into feverish imaginings. With each generous wiggle of her hips, I watched entranced as the sheer fabric clung to her silken, moistened flesh and yet shifted to reveal more of her delicious lower anatomy. Her long, tanned legs split at the "Y" to show a much paler strip of cleanly-shaved skin.

Her upper body was mostly squeezed under the bed and still I heard the muffled moans or sad cries as she struggled to achieve some strange goal. I remained silent, not wanting to disturb or frighten her but also to admire the view. I was also still wondering what she was looking for under the very bed that she slept in as a girl. Certainly, she didn't choose the dusty floorboards beneath her old queen bed to bawl-out her lonely feelings or, as I first thought, to wail her somber masturbatory song. As her firm ass-cheeks bounced and shimmied, leaving her almost-bare butt about a foot in the air, her upper back was declined in a shapely arch sloping away from my vision and under the frame of the bed. Leaving me with a birds-eye view of her lean back from the soft hollow of skin just above her crack to a slow taper formed by her ribs showing the lovely line of vertebrae and leading to her curvy shoulders.

The reason that I could see the shimmering flesh of her rippling back as she squirmed under the bed, was that her light tee was sliding ever further down her gently arched back and bunching-up around her underarms. Reddened grooves were creased in her supple flesh from the abrasions with the wood side rails. Her upper torso was completely wedged under the low frame of the old four-poster. There was no indication of a bra and I really wanted to see more. With each movement of her arms struggling to find or reach for something, I could see the soft undersides of her tender breasts as they swept the floor and compacted under her body. When she swiveled to either side I would get a profile look at the delicate skin of her wobbly boobs and just a hint of her pinkish nipples, erect from the slight contact of scraping the dusty planks.

But besides this, I still heard the muffled groans and somber sniffles mingled with the occasional profanity as she vainly attempted to catch or retrieve something that she seemingly valued. Her body flattened and extended, a sudden bump from underneath let loose a volley of F-words then an exhausted slumping of her tired anatomy. I heard a final grunt and the extreme exhalation of fatigue, then I witnessed that shapely caboose of hers begin to backpedal on her knees, the dusty toenails painted pink, scrambling for traction in reverse, freeing her from her darkened recovery operation. As she slowly backed-up and out from under the old bedframe, careful not to scrape her exposed back any more against the splintered rails, she finally emerged a bit sweaty and quite sooty, but with her hands gripping the mattress, fully upright.

Noticing my presence in the room, she quickly wheeled around in a mix of surprise and embarrassment. Standing jittery before me with dust bunnies clinging to her stray, dark mane and wearing just the pink undies and nearly see-through top, her knees and elbows blackened and two dusty-grey ovals that exactly outlined the pointy nipples that protruded from her thin cottony tee-top. There were dark smudges on her round cheeks interrupted by clean valleys where her tears drained down her face. A strange and sad smile rose and disappeared on her lips, quickly replaced by a forced, toothy grin as she realized that I had been watching her endeavors. She resurfaced clutching some object in her grip that apparently started this deep dive under the bed. This sexy woman was more intent on hiding her small prize than covering her near total nudity from my prying eyes.

I have seen her in this state of undress on many occasions- trips to the beach, nighttime television, etc, though that had been many years ago. So it wasn't this that caused so much turmoil on her smeary, tear-streaked cheeks. She blushed slightly and wiped the salty tears from her make-up free complexion with the back of her linty hand, leaving broad swipes of dirt along her lovely, dampened face. It was my catching her with the misty eyes and puffed cheeks that caused her shame. Then I saw the shiny gold band that twisted between her fingers. I felt awful for being there and becoming witness to her grief but instinctively, I opened my arms and she was instantly cuddling against me, warm tears pressing against my chest and we tumbled back onto the rumpled bed.

My name is Tom. I'm twenty-three now and I own the house. The weepy female is my 34-year-old sister Carolyn, she just recently moved back home with her two young daughters after a shattering divorce. And we were still attempting to reconnect after a seeming-lifetime apart. My father suffered a debilitating illness a few months before and we were forced to commit him to a long-term facility, my mom nursed him for aslong as she could until a fatal heart attack took her. While she was still alive, I promised to help her keep our family home. My sister reluctantly moved back only weeks before mom died.

I was only eleven when Carolyn got engaged. I liked him alot, he took me to ballgames and bought me cool gifts on holidays. What does an eleven-year-old know? They moved south and though my parents suspected something was wrong with the marriage, by then they had their own health to worry them. Now, Carolyn was back home but anxious over her life and things had not turned-out the best for me, either.

Holding her shivering body against me, and feeling the trembles convulse her lithe frame, I rubbed her sore back and gently massaged her long arms while stroking that tangled mane of coal-black, silken hair. The cobwebs attached to my fingers and dust motes drifted in the sunlight streaming through the windows and I was ironically reminded of a comforting memory when a young, dirt-covered boy would run and clutch the welcoming body of his older sister, as she hugged him and soothed all of his worries away.

With Carolyn softly sobbing into my chest and wanting to allow her time to compose her reactions and settle whatever thoughts were storming through her brain, my eyes swept the room, vacant for years but still always hers. The porcelain dolls still lined the shelves, an old violin case was propped in the corner and various ribbons adorned the walls for spelling contests and beauty pageants. Those walls were painted a faded pale-rose shade which she always loved as a girl and continued to be her favorite hue in lipstick and nail polish. The newer additions were the computer, big screen TV and an array of stylish but not quite expensive clothes and many framed pictures of her two little girls.

My room down the hall was in about the same time-stop period in a trip down memory lane. Sports trophies, autographed balls and a pile of dirty laundry signaling that nothing much had changed, or should I say progressed, from days gone by. I remembered that framed copy of my first pro contract. It seemed like so much money then, but after the accident and it being the only contract that I would sign, we were reduced to the meager amount that I had left in the bank. And now having to support not just my father, there was also my sister and my two nieces. Nothing is ever how you imagined it would be.

Her world was shattered by a failed marriage, busted bank account and having to move back-in with her family. Mine was derailed as a promising athlete with a catastrophic knee injury that wiped-out a rookie bonus and happened before the League's liability insurance would fully take effect. I used the savings I had left to secure the house for mom, leaving her one less worry but forcing me back to the old stomping grounds, too.

After a few more moments of warm, wet tears soaking through my shirt and smudges of dirty fingers and pink lipstick smearing onto me and to the bedsheets, she finally turned her tear-streaked face, half-grinning and biting her lips, to find the compassion in my eyes. She reached up and kissed my forehead as she'd done so often when I was a kid, as if she was solving my problems. I gave her a sturdier, reassuring hug and leaned-in to kiss her back. And finally, I had to ask what caused such a heartbreaking dilemma that started our morning off like this. She took a big breath which I noticed caused the nearly translucent tee shirt to rise and fall on her chest, slightly jiggling the bountiful boobs that were on unintended display. And instantly I felt my own organ begin to enlarge again and form a constricting bulge right beneath where her left hand lay.

She obviously felt the rise in my shorts, as it actually lifted her hand and her hardened blue eyes shifted to catch mine still watching the subtle motion of her tits and then suddenly catching her stern gaze with the arched brows confusedly staring at my wide-eyed expression. She nervously giggled a bit and then softly jabbed at my erection saying, "Don't go getting hard staring at your sister's tits." It was the first time that with our eleven-year age difference, that she had spoken like that with me. And then we laughed with the absurdity of the situation and the tenseness dissolving in the room. "On the other hand," she smiled," it is nice for someone to notice that I'm still a woman, just don't gawk so openly at them. It's borderline disgusting because it's like incest."

Knowing now that the mood had lightened considerably and also that though she was my sister, I barely knew this sexy, grown woman who was practically naked and lying in my arms. It is too long a story but essentially, I had moved to Europe to play ball and with the injury and rehab, I had been out of the country for a couple years. She moved away long before I left and with the divorce and custody arrangements keeping her there, by the time she came back I was gone. We always exchanged notes and pictures of the children, but with the added confusion and panic with our parent's health and the new living conditions, we never really talked like adult siblings. So she tried to explain what took place in the time that she got the girls of to school and while I hobbled around after my morning walk.

She explained that the seven-year-old Madilyn, asked when daddy was coming home and the ten-year-old Olivia hushed her and replied that "we don't talk about him anymore." A stunned and shaken Carolyn was forced to make excuses and promises that indeed, daddy would someday soon make his appearance and that birthdays and holidays would not go forgotten. But something had cut her to the core, maybe a sense of life passing her by or an insecurity based on a failed relation. Mostly a feeling of not being wanted or thinking that she is no longer attractive to men. As soon as the girls were on the school bus, she ran to her room and the sobbing soon became a deluge. She further stated that even as the divorce papers were being argued, she was suddenly alone at their apartment, with two little girls who needed constant attention and finding-out that their savings was mysteriously drained.

She found-out instantly that the world was not teeming with eligible men looking to date a thirty-something woman with two kids and no money. When she was asked out, there was pressure for sex as if that was what it would take for a man to assume this burden.

Her wardrobe, dining habits and exercise routine suffered greatly in efforts to keep the children properly clothed and having all of the school supplies they needed. Feeling the loneliness and loss of self-esteem, seeing herself in bunny-slippers and sweats, and not recognizing the skinny, haggard-looking older woman in the mirror, she fell into a desperate funk. It all came crashing down on her in this very bed, feeling as if she had been thrown for a loop. The tears started flowing and the loneliness showed itself in a frenzy. She stripped-off the grey cotton top, leaving just the thin tee, struggled-out of the leggings down to her panties and kicked the slippers across the room, flinging her deflated body on the bed and beginning to genuinely cry.

When she shakily rubbed the tears from her eyes she focused intently on the gold band around her finger. Knowing that the marriage was irretrievably broken and that the future didn't look particularly bright, she panicked. For the first time in thirteen years, she wrestled the ring from her finger and in a fit of pique, unintentionally flung it across the room. There was one more problem. When it and the diamond that came off with it, rebounded off the wall and flew under the bed, she began her scramble as the sobbing, moaning and swearing hit their peak. I noticed the engagement ring safely on the dresser and she still clutched the wedding band in her palm like a life preserver.

My best recourse was to just hold her as she trembled with the aftereffects of a crying jag. Her body shook with the sobbing and she had trouble catching her breath as her torso rocked and languished on the bed. She mumbled that no one will ever find her attractive again, the girls won't have a "father," and that she'll never be able to afford a decent place for them. I just rubbed her back and brushed my fingers through her dark hair, she didn't need to hear any of my life story at the moment so I just held her to keep her safe. As she eventually settled down and appeared to rest, she made soft trilling noises as my back massage and tight grip reduced her tension.

Rubbing my hands along her supple back settled her and I heard her breathing relax while a gentle cooing sound escaped her lips. The tensed muscles fell limp and a pleasing, soft humming sound emerged from her pink lips signaling that she felt more secure and cared for, than at any time in the recent past. One shapely leg was casually thrown over mine as she snuggled closer to me and the thin cotton panties were again stretched across her velvety flesh. I struggled to remain in a non-sexual attitude but I could not have disagreed more with her self-assessment of her figure and her sexuality. She seemed to feel that at 34, and having delivered two children that her body had lost some of it's delightful bounce or that some new bounces were not quite as welcome.

I saw it entirely differently but there are only certain words that apply as a younger brother appraises his sister's curvaceous torso. Her curvy body was still firm and soft in all the right places. And in this condition, with her thin, dusty tee riding up and her skimpy cotton undies straining to contain her rounded hips, every thought in my head turned to a lascivious form of a very taboo fantasy. And there would be nothing I could do to stop the physical reaction from showing on my own body.

My continual massage had caused the thin tee to rise-up along her delicate body, allowing me the pleasure of admiring a side-view of her jiggly breast as it pressed against my side and ground it's warm, firm flesh into my embarrassed body. The globes of her lusty ass were just below my hand and as she squirmed next to me, I could practically see and touch every luscious inch of her sexy rearend. Lewd and crude emotions were battling inside of my perverted brain, contending with the Good Samaritan idea of selflessly supporting a fellow human in need. And I hate to admit this but, the proverbial little devil on my right shoulder was sticking a pitchfork into the ass of the golden angel on the other side.

I know that I should have smoothed-down her shirt and placed her body in a less dubious position to save face for both of us or simply raised the sheet to cover her sensuous anatomy. But I also reasoned that my dirty, incestuous thoughts aside- what could really happen, and that I would certainly awaken from my veritable wet-dream and assume the role of supporting, younger brother that I was supposed to be here for her. Carolyn seemed to fall still and maybe even drift-off to sleep. My anxious body settled more deeply into the mattress and I held her in a cozy, peaceful embrace.

For a brief moment, the temperature in the room lessened and my nervous heart and sweaty hands seemed to return to normal but the storm was just approaching. My hand carelessly lingered over her sultry form, occasionally the fingertips raised goosebumps on her spine. She had been still but now her body started writhing as she clung to me. I felt the moistness from her warming body as she slid her leg along mine and her warm bare calf dangerously approached my upper thigh. Her long, delicate fingers slowly inched towards the muscles of my once-hard abdomen and near the bullet-shaped head of my suddenly hardening erection.

The deep, calm breathing became a bit quicker and the subtle noises were much more pronounced and sensual in their throaty purring. She awakened out of her brief stupor and through heavy lids and muffled lips, I heard a raspy moan. "Oh Gawd, Tommy, that feels so nice. Hold me closer. Keep rubbing me like that. It's been so long since anyone touched me in that way." I wasn't sure what exactly she was saying, my mind was whirling out of control. We were laying in bed, she was barely dressed and my hands were roaming freely and with her blessing, along her writhing anatomy. That's when her hand let the ring drop to the floor again and her palm settled deliberately on my aching crotch. Her head was still nestled on my ribcage haloed by a thick curtain of her raven locks and she shifted slightly to catch my eyes. There was a mischievous smile adorning her pretty face and a sparkling twinkle to her hungry brown eyes.