tagIncest/TabooIn Sara's Pants

In Sara's Pants


David is an 18 year old Senior in High School

And Sara is a 20 year old Freshman in College

It was the geography of the place that led to it all.

That's my excuse anyway.

My parents are divorced, and all of us live at home with my mom. My brother, my sister and me. We can't afford much and so I share a room with my brother, and the room isn't big so we have bunk beds. My sister gets her own room and so does mom.

I work and saved money so I could buy one of those flat screen LED TVs which, because it was mine, I could keep in my room. We don't have central air, what we do have is old non working window air conditioners that can get the temperature in the house down about ten degrees from outside and it is HOT, sweaty and hot.

So my little brother lays on the bottom bunk and I lay on the top bunk, we don't move around much lately, to watch TV and sometimes just to read. My sister likes to come in our room and watch TV too. She either lays on the bottom bunk with my little brother or the top bunk with me, and there is no regular pattern to it. Not like she is on the bottom bunk then the top every other time. It's random, so when she comes in who knows.

I lay so my head is at the top of my bed, and when she gets up on the bunk with me, she lays with her head at the bottom of the bed, usually on the right side and just hangs her chin over the edge to watch.

That is the geography. That is how it all started.


My sister has long straight hair, sort of dishwater blond. She would be what you would call a late bloomer, but now she has a great figure. The change was so gradual that when it hit me it was like whoa. Today she would be described as cute, almost hot. She is a total tom boy, and looks a lot like the Daisy Mae cartoon character from L'il Abner, and she sure dresses that way! She is somewhat popular at school but none of us do much as far as activities. Oh, she is also tall and smart, and this makes her a little fearsome to boys in general, added to the fact she does not put up with much shit.

Like I said, it was hot and the house was hot, so I was wearing shorts and no T shirt. My sister was wearing short shorts and a halter top which, while wearing that, she was definitely hot. She was up on my bed watching TV, a show I was not interested in so I was reading. As I lay there I would glance up, looking over her body and for some reason that is what I kept doing this time. I noticed her breathing. Her halter was up high across her back, and her short shorts where tucked up tight between her legs, so I could see the crack of her ass. The way she was laying was also giving me a perfect side view of the edge of her breasts, their curve, the way they were held in that little halter. I had never ever before just lay and looked at her like that before, other than noticing at some point that she was pretty cute and sometimes hot. She didn't look back at me, she was just watching the TV.

At some point I decided to touch her.

I don't know why, I have no idea where the thought even came from, and my heart started pounding hard in my chest the moment the idea came to me. My arms started to tingle as I lay my hand right on her leg. I just lay it there, almost like it were an accident, right at the thigh. I waited. Until she would shew me away, or I don't know what. Her skin was soft and warm, she did not even register my touch. I thought she would like brush my hand away, or look back at me, give me a frown. Or something. But there was just no reaction. I left my hand there a long time, and she let me.

At some point I moved my hand, just a little, little wiggles of my fingers waiting for a reaction. But got none. It was weird, I was really expecting something, and was expecting to be stopped.

Her long hair was this messy mane falling around her shoulders, her feet were crossed at the ankle and her back was shiny with sweat from the heat below where her halter crossed at the middle of her back down to her shorts. I stroked my hand along the length of her thigh, along the back of her leg, and took in the feel of her skin, the curve of her thighs and got used to the fact that she did not react at all. So I began to rub my hands on the inside of her thighs, short strokes there, but then longer from her knees to just before the fabric of her shorts, feeling myself getting incredibly aroused as I did that. I also rubbed her calves awhile and her feet, but then I would rub her thighs back up higher until without any reaction at all I lay the palm of my hand right over her butt, right over the fabric of her shorts. It was really thin fabric and I could feel her panties under the shorts. They were tight, that cheap kind of fabric, fuzzy and thin, like running pants fabric. They were loose around her thighs, but tight over her butt, and I began to rub her ass over the fabric and then back down onto her thighs. I kept rubbing her all over like that.

Never once did she react, or look at me, or shoo me away.

When suddenly, for no reason at all, she lifted herself up and swung off the bed and left the room. Was it because of me, what I did? Was she mad? Did she like it?

That is how my little indiscretion was left that day.


I have to say honestly that I was wracked with guilt. Touching Sara was something I could not stop thinking about, especially at night. And I had done it three times now! The same thing, the same way. Every time I saw her I could feel myself get warm, feel my ears turn red, but on her part there was absolutely no acknowledgment or indication that it had happened, or that she thought anything of it.

I would lay in my bed at night holding my hand in the air, the one I stroked her body with, stretching my fingers up over my face, imagining how they had caressed her smooth skin, imagining the curves of her soft thighs, the bare skin, how I rubbed her ass beneath that thin fabric, and the exquisite feel of her as my hand dipped down between her thighs. I could just feel her bare skin, its warmth and moist resistance on these hot days.

I lay in bed thinking about how Sara would come into the room, she would look up at me and down at my brother, standing there a moment deciding where to lay down. How my heart raced as she stood there - would she, this time, decide to crawl in with me? I cannot describe the feeling when she jumped up onto my bed and settled in beside me. The look of her legs, her ankles crossed up by my shoulder, and the feel of her thighs when I began rubbing her legs. As I lay there thinking about it all, I would tug my hard cock out and stroke myself as I would go over every detail, until hot spurts of cum would spray out of me and I would turn over and finally fall asleep.

But I felt guilty and tried to stop, vowing to never let it happen again.

I would lay on my bed looking at her body, as she lay watching TV. Sara laying down on her stomach with her chin over the edge of the bed, her bare legs extending up right beside me. I truly tried not to touch her; and once, one time I did not. But it was overwhelming, the urge.

I had become an utter pervert, and I would chastise myself for thinking about my sister, of doing this to my sister. What had it been? Five, six times now. But, she never stopped me. She was complicit. I convinced myself the only reason I was doing this was because she would not stop me. No resistance to my touch at all, had she batted me away once, it would be over. One look. I'd never do it again.

Her gaze on me at the breakfast table displayed not even a hint that I had touched her, run my fingers up her long legs the day before, or stroked her soft ass and squeezed her thighs up high between her legs, or slid my hands over her lower back, slippery with sweat.


I had a hard time talking when she was around now. Not like we sat around having deep conversations, but we did talk about stuff, normal stuff. The simplest utterances were a greater effort for me now. I was always wondering what she was thinking. I had this whole side dialog anytime we talked, anytime she even looked at me, some sign. Our birthdays were coming up, which was something we could talk about. We were one year apart, both Geminis. We celebrated them at the same time with the family, and then would have separate parties with our friends. We usually got something for each other.

One morning she sat next to me on the swing on the front porch, intent on a conversation. Every time she sat beside me now I startled, half expecting her to talk about IT, or give me some sort of look. But she never did.

She just sat down and said, "Hey. I have a question. I haven't decided what I'm going to get you for your birthday yet. You already got everything. Any ideas?"

I shrugged, "No. Don't get me anything. I don't need anything." It was the guilt talking. I could have said, no not after what you are already 'giving' me.

She continued, "Ok. Well, I haven't decided, but I got some ideas, of where I can look anyway. If you think of anything ..."

"Better start looking then."

She went to get up and then paused, "What about me?"

"Huh. Oh. You'll see." She sat staring at me. I had no idea what to get her, this was getting uncomfortable.

"A lot of fun you are. You're supposed to tease me a little, give me hints about it, make me guess, you know."

"Well it's soft." Why did I just say that. My mind was drifting to her legs.


"That's the hint."

She bit, "What color is it then?"

"Red," I said. Great, now I got to find something soft and red.

"It's got to be clothes."

"It could be socks."

"Or Underwear." I went red, at such an intimate detail coming from her mouth.

Sara looked at me again, a coy smile just then.


"Nothing." She got up.

I called after her, "Well it's not underwear."

She looked back. Her eyes on me, made me nervous all over again.


That evening she was still on the present thing. I was getting supper ready while mom had the night shift. Sara padded barefoot in the kitchen, tiny little shorts and a tube top. It was just us kids tonight.

Sara watched me for a while, when she said, "Does something special happen between us on our birthday?"

I just about spilled the milk when she said that.

"Uh, Like what?"

"I mean because our birthdays are so close. Some connection. Something personal."


"I mean we almost share the same day, you know. Both Geminis, the sign of the twins. It's a sign like where there are two, there are two sides of us. A visible part, and a hidden part."

"Never thought about it."

"Tell me something."

I looked up.

"Tell me a secret," she smiled.

Nothing, day after day of nothing, and now this. I have to stop doing what I am doing was all I could think of. It can't go on. I was blushing crimson and didn't know where to look. What is she hinting at? She ignored utterly how awkward I was just then. This game. This has to stop, I am going to be in big trouble. I could not stop thinking about it.

"I don't have any secrets," I said it as I stared at the food I was frying.

Sara pointed at herself, "I'm your secret. So, you do have a secret." Sara leaned in close by my ear. I could feel her shoulder brush against my arm, whispering, "How about this. You sometimes sneak out here by my door and peek in when the door is open. Once I saw you up by the staircase, hiding and watching, there, you could see right through my door."

I just about melted, and had nothing to say. Lately, On nights when she did not come into my room, I would go check on what she was doing, stand back so she couldn't see me.

She continued without stopping, "You think you're gonna catch me at something? I know when you do it. I can always tell. You have a certain way of walking down the stairs. You know, extra slow, so the squeaks on the steps are spaced out. I can hear it, I know it is you. Sometimes I even think you're listening to me when I'm talking on the telephone."

It was all whispered and all said really fast, without any rancor or anger. Not accusing.

"What are you talking about?"

Sara shrugged. "I don't know. Just making conversation. Seeing if you had anything to tell me. Want to hear any of MY secrets David?"

"No. Quit being weird."

She smiled at me over her shoulder, "When is dinner ready?"

"In five minutes."



It was a number of days, at least a week, before Sara came to watch television after that evening conversation about secrets.

I stopped peeking in her room. So she would no longer hear the slow squeak of my sneaking up on her. I had also solemnly resolved to stop touching her, no matter what. It was not right, not wrong exactly, but the feelings inside were definitely not normal or right for a brother to have. And that conversation that was burned in my brain, what if she said something to someone. What did she say already about it to her friends? What kind of a joke would I be then? Or pervert.

Then one day, about a week later, Sara came in the room, my heart jumped into my throat. She looked down at my brother, and then up and me, stood there a moment before jumping in next to me on the top bunk and lay down beside me like she always does.

Only this time, instead of shorts, she had on a blue jean skirt, also very short. She was barefoot as usual and was wearing a halter top as usual. No comment, no eye contact, normal like every other time.

No big deal. I was not going to do anything.


I held my book in my hand, held it in front of my face, could see it shaking as I read. My heart was pounding and I could feel myself grow immediately hard. I glanced up her long legs, the space of bare skin at the small of her back, the edge of her breasts, her tangled hair falling down her back, her legs crossed at the ankles.

I felt like I could not breathe.

Fuck she looked good. No.

I started to watch TV, lay my book down. Could not read anyway.

No. I was not going to.

But she would let me.

Wouldn't she?

Her legs looked so white and soft, warm, and her ass in that tight short skirt. She did not move, just laying there watching the TV, chin over the edge of the bed and her one arm extending up over her head.

I lay my hand at her calf.

No reaction.


I took my hand away, took my book up again. Read!! I put it down, not even able to see the letter, and lay my hand on her again. In my mind I was screaming STOP! I began drawing small circles on her, began stroking along her thighs, slipping my fingers down between her legs, her inner thighs, lightly stroking up the inside of her legs. Only this time she wasn't wearing any shorts. I was looking up her legs as I stroked her, the open space between her legs.

God, I had to stop, but with each smooth stroke of her skin, the warmth of her body, so intoxicating. How she let me do this.

I continued to stroke my hands softly over her legs, down her calves and up to the edge of her miniskirt, up to where her shorts would be, nothing there - so much more inviting. I could reach up into her open skirt if I wanted. I slid my hand a little more, further than I ever had. My hear was pounding in my chest. She slid the tiniest bit back, and I yanked my hand away. The skirt slipping higher at the movement so that I could just make out the bulge of her panties between her legs. Red. I could not take my eyes away, her little panty covered puss. They looked pretty much like the shorts she always wore, smaller, more like a bathing suit. But they weren't shorts, they were her panties. Red panties. I lay my hand on her again, and as she lay there I caressed her thighs.

I began to rub higher, as she was watching TV. No one else was home except my brother on the bottom bunk. No one said anything. My hand drawing these long delicious strokes up her legs, letting my fingers caress her up the inside of her thighs with the front of my hand as high as I dared, before drawing my hand back down between her legs rubbing her with the back of my hand along the other leg as I did. Over and over I did this. One leg and then the other. Then, I lay my hand on her ass the way I always had.

The fabric of the blue jean skirt was thicker, rougher, it did not have the same feel as when she wore those thin shorts. I looked up her legs at the open space between her legs. I rubbed my hand for a little while over her ass, over the heavy fabric of her skirt, and dropping back down onto her bare legs, her soft beautiful legs.

I thought about touching her under her skirt. Oh, my god, that thought almost made me cum right there. Out of control. No. I was stroking her legs, reaching higher and higher, right to edge of her skirt, the littlest bit further, and back down again and then higher and on the next stroke up the inside of her thighs passing the edge of her skirt further further. My hand lay now ever so slightly beneath the skirt. I could feel the hem of her skirt on the back of my fingers, feel that her skin was warmer here, and I held my hand right there a very long time. She did not move, did not stop me at all.

I could feel the curve of her bare ass with my fingers, and I rubbed a little higher until my fingers touched the silk red panties covering her ass, just the hem. The edge of her panties, up under her skirt. I lay my hand at the curve of her bare ass with the tips of my fingers touching her silk panties, and once more did not move my hand at all. I was just drinking her in, feeling the curve of her body. Melting. The heat of her was melting me, my hand trembling as I held to her.

But Sara gave no indication that my hand was under her skirt. She dropped her head slightly to the side, that was all. No movement, no waving of her hand, no clamping of her legs. Nothing.

I didn't look at her after that, I didn't want to meet her eyes. I knew I should stop, but I did not want to be stopped by her.


After a long while, I reached further up under her skirt, pressing my hand right over the top of her ass over the panties, could feel the thin soft silk that covered her body. This was much thinner than the shorts she normally wore, and beneath the fabric I could feel her bare skin. The red fabric that covered her felt like it was burning into my hand. I realized the top of her skirt gave easily as I pressed my hand over her ass. The skirt was not tight on her at all.

I closed my eyes as I let my fingers press down along the silk fabric, finding the crack of her ass, I let my fingers slip down over the fabric right between her legs, right over her soft pussy lips.

Oh my god. So soft and hot.

She would stop me now.

I drew my fingers down between her legs this time, pressing the whole length of her pussy mound, that little space between her legs opening right to her vagina, her pussy, her mound, her clit. The fabric was no more than an inch wide. I could literally feel the soft hairs of her pussy peeking out from the edges of the fabric.

She lay there, did not move at all. Letting me, though I detected her breathing a little faster, nothing more.

I tipped my hand my open palm completely covered her puss, my fingers wrapped around the front of her pussy mound, with my palm wrapping up between her legs, cupping her. I began to stroke up between her legs with my thumb before pushing my middle finger against her, making a crease in the panties, pressing right into her pussy lips and letting it open around my finger. I began sliding my middle finger on her until I felt the nob of her clit beneath the silk fabric. The fabric was wet, I was rubbing my thumb right over a wet spot that was growing between her legs.

Her legs had been wide enough that her pussy was open to my touch and her skirt had ridden higher as I rubbed her so that it was now laying right at the top of her ass, and her panties were half exposed to me. She had to feel the cool air on her ass. I could feel her pussy getting hotter and wetter, the bare flesh of her cunny digging into the fabric. I could feel her breathing getting faster, feel her getting aroused.

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