It Started with Chelsea Ch. 00

Author's note; All sexual participants are adults aged 18+ living in northern England. Your constructive comments are welcome. This was edited, & test read by the wonderfully psychotic Hypoxia. If you do like this, then please VOTE!

Prologue

A new stepsister blows my... mind

*

THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER. You likely know this common expression. All old truisms are true, right? Do you believe it? How could you not? Well, sometimes it is, and sometimes the world just shits on you. But sometimes, that oyster does surface and presents you its pearl.

I recently had a good day, a fine the-world-isn't-shitting-on-me sort of day. I have had my fair share of bad days, of course, and only recently I was fired. But now, finally, I can honestly say my life has turned around. And about bleeding time, too! I deserve at least one good day. Or even one good night. Doesn't everyone?

Yes, a good day. It started with Chelsea, in York. And I mean in Chelsea.

Before we begin, I feel compelled to state, for the record, that I... I am a virgin. Or at least I was before tonight. Maybe before tonight; I am not really sure. That sounds a bit daft, doesn't it? "I'm not sure I'm a virgin." But I really am not sure, because she started it.

I was asleep, you see. But I'll get to that.

It was a weekend at a B&B (that's 'bed & breakfast'). We were staying over in York getting ready for a wedding. We had travelled from Morley. That's where we're from, I'll admit it's the arse end of Leeds. But it is home.

My Dad was finally remarrying. My Mum had divorced him a few years back. They just grew apart with him working away a lot - always on assignment. I still see Mum every now and then but I was much closer to my Dad. And now he was getting married for the second time. I was happy for him, but...

But. There is always a but. It cannot be helped. Really, it can't.

The woman he's marrying, Natalie, she's nice and all - but it's her daughter. Chelsea. She's almost a couple of years younger than me; I just turned twenty a few weeks back.

As soon as Natalie and my Dad would say their "I DO's" and be properly shackled at the wrists and ankles. Then Chelsea and I would officially become step-brother and step-sister. So it felt pretty weird when we had to share a room and a bed for the weekend wedding. I did, of course, complain. But my dad is cheap like that, always trying to save money here and there. He's a bit of a tight bastard like that.

We had all lived under the same roof in Morley for several months. I had my own room there so I never noticed certain details before. Funny how any home life quickly becomes ordinary, ain't it?

But in good old York, in that tiny hotel room under the same covers as her for a long weekend, for three nights straight. I awoke to... accidents. Drippy accidents of the nightly variety. I remember many more vivid sex dreams. This kind of crept me out, what with being so close to my soon-to-be step-sister. Was she doing something as I slept? Or had I only not taken proper 'care' of myself during the very little private time I had?

The first night I was not aware of anything much - a glance here, a weird look there, things like that. She certainly acted different from usual but I only thought it because we would soon be family. It was not.

The second night I definitely felt... something. I remember a dream about a girl giving me a hand-job, possibly more. I woke up as soon as I came. The room was pitch-black. Chelsea lay next to me, shifting on her side - turning in her sleep, I supposed, not really giving it much thought. All that mattered was that I had just fucking creamed myself while sleeping right next to my impending step-sister. Embarrassment is not the word, I tell you.

The third night - oh my - the night before our parents were due to be married. We had to be up early in the morning to prepare for The Big Day, so I obviously wanted a good night's sleep. She did not.

It was half-twelve at night. There was dry-humping or grinding or whatever you want to call it. And she was less subtle with each passing night. But I was not definite; I could not exactly accuse her of blowing me in my sleep. We were, after all, due to be joined as siblings, so that would be one messy argument. And I would likely never be forgiven, and seen forever from that moment on as a pervert.

Sometimes... it really is hard being a man. A girl smiles at you. You are not sure if she fancies you, or if she's just being nice, or a tease, or whatever. Our brains are just wired that way, I guess. We are idiots, I'll be the first to admit it, but as disgusting as we can be, we can also be very sincere and honest. Meaning, we're suckers.

I lay facing her back, with her snoring and lightly brushing her bum against my crotch. I wondered: Had she done anything like this back home? I could not remember. I did remember her constantly barging into my room. She often caught me off-guard in the middle of The Act. She always laughed it off, calling me a perv, asking if I was watching porn. I was; of course I was. I am a man. I need a release every now and then. I never thought anything of her play, writing it off as only light teasing.

The night wore on with both of us shifting and turning. She managed to find a way to grind, rub, and hold me closer, waiting till I fell asleep. That was when she slyly grabbed my hard-on. I wanted to catch her in the act. And I did.

The time was about quarter to one in the morning. Everyone in the hotel was, probably, asleep except Chelsea and me. At least, she thought I was asleep. Turned out she had been slipping me tablets to knock me out cold. I finally caught on. I sneaked off before bedtime to tip my water down the drain.

I had replaced the glass on my bedside cabinet. To let her carry her little game on and see what she was doing.

Well, she certainly knew what she was doing! I would have thought her braces would affect any kind of blowjob she gave. But no, they were barely noticeable. My eyes flickered open. The room's darkness gave little away, but she was not lying next to me snoring away- she was below the covers. And I could clearly see the quilt we shared gently bopping up and down.

I gasped. She did not hear me. She was far, far away, consuming me in a swirl of her tongue and wet cheeks. Oh god. My toes curled. She moaned, happy with her night-time escapade, but I had to know how far she would go, and how long she had been doing this. Tonight was not the first. Had she done it before, back home?

I wanted to ask her. But I did not want her to stop. I know it's wrong; I just didn't care anymore. This was too incredible to be angry with her.

When she finally stopped I breathed a sigh of relief - but no, I had not come yet. And she was most certainly not done. The cover came rushing up. I panicked. I turned my head to the side shutting my eyes. Blind, in terror and in pleasure, I could only feel her pushing herself upwards, her hands pressed into the mattress inches from my pillow, inches away from my face.

And then I felt it. OH MY GOD. Was she seriously doing this? I felt her wet hole sink gradually into me and her hot breath wash silently over my neck. I was no longer a virgin! But was this the first? Was I already non-virginal? How many times had she done this?

This could be my fifth, sixth, or twentieth time even. Getting fucked, I mean. Realising this, I was angry. I mean, how could I not be? She could at least have asked me, but... truth be told, I probably would have said no. Like I said, men are idiots.

She rocked steadily into me with one hand pressed next to my pillow and the other rubbing her clit ever so slightly in rhythm. (I peeked.) She paid me no attention. Her head rolled back; her eyes were likely lost in ecstasy, her mouth drooling with desire. She moaned softly.

I decided - I would let the bitch know! I was not sure if she had ridden me till I came the last few times. So, this time, I would make sure she did.

I neared my climax; I let her know. An orgasmic jolt shot up my legs. I exhaled a groan and she froze, halting in her lust. She finally realised! There is no way to describe the look of horror on her sudden colourless face. It was a picture, all right!

I grabbed her by the hips and her ass and clenched them tightly. She sat atop me, her petite breasts glistening, her lips quivering in fear as she looked on at me. I held on tight and began thrusting into her, hard & fast, pounding until I came deep inside of her.

Chelsea - a statue caught in eternity mounted on my dick. Even after she recovered from the fright of being discovered, I said nothing, and neither did she. We didn't speak for the rest of the night. But I can tell you the lights were left on after that. And we did not get a single wink of sleep for the rest of the weekend.

Now I look forward to returning home after the wedding. I could not stop wondering; would she visit my bed again? And was the world now my oyster? Only time would tell.