Sarah - My Perverted Sister Ch. 05

This is a story about the demented sex life of my perverted little sister and I. She's 21 years old and I'm only a couple years older, 23. We live together in a flat near the college we both attend. This chapter continues the story from Chapter IV.

Chapter V.

The Magic Oak Tree

Following Sarah's gaze, I let my eyes wander ahead of me and saw the most magnificent tree I'd ever seen. It was a live oak, at least 50 feet in height, perhaps twice that in the spread of its limbs, its massive branches were themselves the size of tree trunks. Rambling wildly, they danced with the ground beneath them, impossibly held aloft despite their massive girth and length. Its limbs were draped in Spanish moss, conjuring up the image of a bearded sage. This was it. The Old Man of the Forest.

I was pulled from my reverie by the departure of Sarah's hand from my own. She started running towards the tree and I followed, suddenly filled with an overwhelming desire to be inside the tree. Effortlessly, the both of us scaled the trunk, which was covered in knobs that made for convenient handholds and footholds. It was as if it was inviting us in. About 8 feet up, the trunk plateaued into a wide, shallow bowl. We could stand comfortably here, and there was more than enough room to sprawl out. I also noticed that, closer to the middle of the trunk, the natural curvature of the plateau came up around us in a sort of half wall, creating a privacy barrier between our vantage and the ground below.

"This is amazing!" I whispered reverently.

"I know, right?" she agreed. "And the best part is, nobody knows about this except you and me. Well, not that I know of at least."

"Let's keep it that way," I asserted, moving my outstretched hand towards Sarah. "Pact of secrecy."

"Agreed. Pact of secrecy," she affirmed, firmly shaking my hand.

After a moment of silence, Sarah leaned forward and began unlacing her boots. "I could honestly use a minute to chill," she confessed.

"Same," I agreed, and found a nice little spot in the tree where I could kick my legs out and rest my back against a large branch growing vertically from the plateau.

"My feet are so sore," Sarah complained. "I've hiked in these boots so many times, you'd think they'd be more comfortable."

"Your feet are probably just out of shape," I hypothesized. "It's been a while since our last hiking trip."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Finished untying her laces, Sarah pulled off her left boot quite forcefully, jerking her arms forward once it finally cleared her foot. Closing her eyes, she wiggled her socked toes and let out a moan of relief before doing the same with the other foot. Even from a few feet away, I could smell her socked feet and boots—her feet always had the strongest odor after a hike, sweating in those leather hiking boots. It was a musty and dirty and pungent smell, less vinegary than her other foot smells, but still with that pheromonal sweetness that was all things Sarah.

"Why don't we eat lunch now?" she suggested. "I'm hungry after all that walking."

"I'm down. I'm starving," I replied, starting to rummage through my backpack for my lunch.

I glanced over again, and now she was wiggling her toes, which I could see the outlines of through the thin fabric of her socks. "I wonder how..." she started saying something and, distracted as I was by the toe-wiggling, it only registered that she was talking, not at all what she was saying.

"You wanna go catch dinosaurs after this?" she asked.

"Uh huh," I muttered, not realizing the absurdity of her question until a few moments later, then I added, "wait, what?"

"Hah!" she laughed triumphantly. "You little pervert. You're so busy staring at my feet you haven't heard a word I'm saying."

"That's not fair! You were totally teasing me on purpose. You know I can't stand it when you wiggle your toes in front of me like that, especially fresh out of hiking boots!"

"Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. That's not important. What's important is how you're gonna make it up to me."

"No way! You totally just admitted you were doing it on purpose. How can you expect me to—"

"How about I use your face as a footrest while I eat my lunch?"

I stared at her, having been cut off mid-sentence, my mouth still open, my brow still furrowed in indignation. It took me a moment to process the flood of emotions I was feeling—embarrassment at having been made a fool of, guilt at having been ignoring my little sister to stare at her feet, and sexual excitement at the prospect of those sweaty, stinky feet covering my face while she ate her lunch. Ultimately, the latter won out. As usual, she could completely humiliate me and get away with it too, subtly exerting her sexual power over me. Some nights, the nights I didn't spend with Sarah, I'd wonder if I was in some kind of fucked up abusive relationship with my sister. To this day, I still haven't really decided.

Not one to wait for an answer, my sister peeled off her socks, balled them up and gave them a big sniff. "Ohhh", she moaned, "this might be too much for you Dustin," scooting forward until she was right in front of me, her knees bent and her feet in my lap. Then, using her backpack as a backrest, she leaned back, extended her legs, and placed her feet squarely on my face. The last thing I saw was a pair of damp, wrinkly soles blacking out the sky, and then everything went dark.

The smell was horrendous. Years of stink laying dormant in my sister's boots—boots that had been worn on countless hiking trips, soaking up Sarah's sweat for hours each day, often with only a single change of socks the whole trip—was brought to life again by the warmth and moisture of today's hike. Not to mention that her socks were already dirty before we even left the house—I watched her put them on from the dirty clothes bin this morning, adding the bacterial cultures from another day and another pair of forlorn shoes. The resulting stench was a powerful combination of dirt, vinegar, mildew, cheese, and leather that was absolutely overpowering, causing me to gag immediately.

Taken by surprise at her abruptness and at the raw power of her stench, I tried to wiggle away. This was too much, even for me. Unfortunately, my back was against the wall (the tree, actually), with an 8ft drop to either side. The only way out of my spot on the plateau was blocked by my little sister, who was not about to let me escape her grasp. Unable to leave, I turned my head to the side, gasping for clean air, or more accurately cleaner air, since I could still smell her feet loud and clear from a few inches away.

"Ah ah ah," Sarah chided me, hooking my head with her left foot and rotating it back to center where she thrust her right into my face again, forcefully wrapping her toes around my nose, squishing it against my face while her sole covered my mouth, leaving me only my nostrils to breathe with. I struggled to escape to the other side, made more difficult by the pressure of my head being pressed against the tree behind me and by the fact that I was holding my breath.

After a few seconds of struggle I couldn't hold it any longer and inhaled sharply through my nose. My nostrils burned as her powerful stench entered me, making me retch immediately and start salivating profusely. Drool began to drip down my chin as I finally broke free of her vice grip, turning my head to the right and using my hands to twist my body as far away as I could from her putrid soles, retching again as I turned.

"You can't run from me forever, Dustin. When are you going to accept what I'm giving you?" she chastised me. "Besides, you owe me for being so RUDE and ignoring me earlier to stare at my feet. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"It's too much sis! I almost puked twice already!" I replied, frustration and desperation in my voice. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening earlier, OK! I'll be a better brother from now on. I'm sorry. I really am. Pleeeease let me go, Sarah!"

"Oh sweety, you're the best brother a girl could ask for. You're always enough, just the way you are. I just like torturing you." She laughed a full, throaty laugh, and once again struck like lightning with her feet. This time her right foot hooked around the back of my neck, pulling me forward and turning my head with the top of her foot, while her left foot came down hard on the side of my face, squishing my cheek and covering my left eye. With this method, she had my head in a vice grip, giving me nowhere to turn, and had the leverage to move my head wherever she pleased.

My face locked in place, I reached out with my hands to grab her legs, but before I could connect her hands shot out, pinning my arms to the tree on either side of me. I gasped in frustration, inviting another wave of that monstrous scent into my nostrils. My gorge rose, putting me on the verge of puking. I felt lightheaded. I tried to free my arms—normally I could overpower my sister with ease—but the powerful miasma assaulting my senses had sapped me of energy, and I could barely budge. I was truly at her mercy.

"Can't... move... my arms," I mumbled. She replied with a gentle "shhh, just relax" and slowly rotated her left foot, the one pressing against my face, so that her foot was covering my mouth lengthwise, her sole pressed against my lips and her toes resting on my left cheek. I could no longer speak—my last method of resistance was gone. I felt helpless and was overcome by the fear of what she might do to me. My eyes started filling with tears.

Seeing my tears, Sarah's facial expression changed from deviousness to concern. She let go of my hands, released some of the pressure on my face, and slid her left foot back to the side of my face, freeing my mouth once again. She brought a hand up and wiped away a tear with her thumb. "Shhh," she soothes. "It's ok Dustin. I'm not going to hurt you, ok? You can trust me. I love you, Dustin," she said, and without moving her foot from my left cheek, she leaned in to kiss me on the right, and then on the mouth, pulling me toward her with her right foot which was still hooked against the back of my head. I could taste the salt of my tears on her lips.

She withdrew her lips an inch or two, her face still hovering right in front of mine, and made eye contact. "Watch me," she said, and turned her head toward her left foot, still pressed against my face. I felt just her toes lift off of me, and out of the corner of my eye saw that she had created a little nook between her toes and my face. Her hand was still caressing the other side of my face as she leaned in, sticking her nose into the nook she had created, and took a long, slow, deliberate breath. Pulling away slightly at the end, I could see her eyes roll into the back of her head as she exhaled a sigh of pleasure. Some of the stench wafted out as she pulled away and I stifled a gag

"See? It's good. You just have to trust me. I told you this spot was magical, and all I want to do is help you feel the magic deep inside you. Ok, baby boy?" She continued reassuring me with a nurturing voice, stroking my face with her hand, and slowly I let my guard down. She had broken me, and despite my awareness of this, I no longer had the energy to resist. I fell into subspace, trusting that my sister knows what's best for me. In the meantime, she removed her feet from my face and placed them back into her boots, explaining that she wanted to get them ready for me again, to really experience the magic of the Forest.

As she soothed me, and I relaxed more and more, I realized another thing—I really did want to feel the magic she was talking about. I wanted it enough to do anything she asked of me. Her gentle nurturing washed over me, pushing away my fear and replacing it with total vulnerability. I looked up at my sister's warm smile with total subservience and love.