Sibling Love: A Misunderstood Sylph

Author's note: This story is entered in the 2021 Nude Day theme contest. Positive comments and votes are certainly appreciated. While it is a longer story, with ample build-up of the characters and situation, there is plenty of taboo erotic content, not all of which is saved for the very end. I hope you enjoy it.

All characters are fictional and over the age of 18 at all times. Copyright by the author 2021.

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Sylph: noun 1: A slender, graceful girl 2: An imaginary spirit or elemental of the air; a sprite, fairy

SILF: acronym. 1. [a] Sister I'd Like to Fuck

PROLOGUE: wherein we meet a sylphlike SILF and her buxom friend

The two girls, best friends, were a study in contrast.

One, short and curvy, vivacious, the other tall, slim and graceful. Arm and arm, tired after a long hot dusty day at the local Renaissance Faire, they weaved a bit as they strolled toward the exit gate. Their gauzy costume dresses flowed in the warm breeze. The taller girl shielded her eyes from the low, setting sun in front of them.

The shorter one was in her element. Each step had a bounce to it, causing a matching bounce to the very prominent cleavage she displayed above a tightly laced bodice. The look had encouraged attention all day, especially from the throngs of costumed men, young and older both, eager for an exchange of bawdy banter, if not more. It had also encouraged more than a couple tankards of ale to be purchased for the girls during the day, which accounted for their current weaving walk.

Three young costumed men followed them now, crawling behind on all fours along the packed dirt trail, laughing. With frequent bows bringing their heads low to the ground, cries of "We're not worthy!" punctuated their odd procession. As opposed to the onlookers, these three seemed focused almost entirely on the taller girl walking directly between themselves and the setting sun.

"Brothers?" One crawling jackanape could hardly speak he was laughing so hard.

"Yes, brother?" He was loudly answered. The three knew they were putting on a show for the remaining crowd as well as enjoying their own antics.

"Remember when I requested that my body be cremated when I reach my corporeal end?"

"Truly?" The one next to him answered. "I do not. But pray continue."

"I have reconsidered. I no longer care what happens to my deceased body, with one exception."

"And what exception might that be, brother?"

"Do whatever you want with the rest of my body, but I want my face buried. Buried right between those cheeks. Right in the gap between those ethereal, heaven-worthy thighs. For eternity."

Coughing out a laugh, the third one managed a clarification. "Where the sun doesn't shine?"

"Nay, halfwit." The jokester answered. "Where the setting sun shines brightest, high between yon glorious legs."

"Bah hah!" His companions burst into their loudest laughter yet, one rolling onto his back in the dirt, hands on his belly, legs kicking in the air.

An older costumed woman, carrying a basket of flower garlands she was offering to the exiting Faire-goers as a final impulse purchase to remember their visit, stepped out behind the three young men. Her jaw dropped theatrically when she took in their view.

"Be gone, louts!" She made a show of kicking one kneeling ruffian in his rear end. "Hie thee hence, callow poltroons!"

Impromptu mini dramas were a popular part of the Faire experience and the young men played along with her, laughing and covering their backsides from her feigned kicks as they scurried away, laughing. The garland-seller shook her fist at them before hastening to catch up to the two weaving girls.

"M'lady." She touched the tall beauty's elbow. "Prithee, a moment."

The two turned, seeing the basket of wares she carried. "Oh. No thank you. We've purchased enough today."

"Nay, good lady. No hawking pitch this." She shook her head, intent on the taller of the two. "Prithee: I merely wanted to make thee awares: yon setting sun before us doth illume both your long and exceedingly comely shanks and the most secret space high betwixt them. Those crude oafs were quite addled by the sight. And adding, they were, quite ribald comments of lusty admiration not fit for wee kinders ears."

The girl gasped, looking down, clutching at her dress's lower half before turning to the side. Her curvy friend, the drunker of the two, didn't catch on so quickly. "The sun's secret what?"

"It's okay, Suz. I think this kind lady was warning me that my skirt's too thin and the sun's been silhouetting my legs and...more." The willowy beauty nodded to her new benefactor. "I owe you my thanks, madam."

"Ye calleth me madam and a lady, m'lady." The garland-monger covered her mouth and a theatrically shy giggle. "No one's called me such for many a year, and only then to curry favor toward a peek, or mayhap a visit, between my own thighs...'and more,' as thou sayeth. It be rare for one such as thee, so lovely of visage and of most obvious noble blood - if not that of the immortal folk themselves - to deign treat with me."

She reached into her basket, bringing forth a beautiful garland, not overlarge but finely wrought with a multitude of tiny dried white flowers. "Allow an old and most common woman to offer this token of her thanks. And to help sway thine ladyship away from considering yon scoundrels as bein' thy last memory of our humble shire."

As pretty as she was, the slender girl's smile brought forth a new level of glowing beauty. "Why. It's gorgeous. I can't accept that..."

"Yea. Most certes ye can."

As she spoke the woman deposited her basket on the ground and held the garland up with both hands. The taller girl bent forward as though to be crowned, allowing the woman to position it on her head.

As the two girls weaved on it was the tall garland-wearer who now had the springy, self-satisfied bounce in her step. She fished a cell phone out of the leather pouch hanging from her belt, beginning to tap at its screen.

PART 1: The Non-Nude But Still Sexy Part

TODD

His phone buzzed.

'Can u pick us up at renn fair? Suz drank 2much,' read his sister's text.

Todd put down the book, an reprinted primary source on various types of fairies, nymphs, elementals and quasi-supernatural creatures that he had finally found an affordable copy of.

'Imagine that lol: Sun drinking. Be there in 30,' he texted in return. As usual, the auto-correct feature of his phone changed 'Suz' - short for Susanne - to 'Sun.' His sister, Lizzy, would understand.

The two siblings had always been there for each other, so Todd didn't hesitate to answer his sister's request. Growing up, even as kids, they had been there for each other when their parents had been too selfish, too distracted, too unprepared for the responsibilities of having a family. Now, as young adults, he and Lizzy could and did still count on each other more than anyone else, for matters trivial and critical both.

They had shared intimate secrets, insecurities, joys and heartaches with each other as far back as he could remember. Except for one. Todd could never let his beloved sister know the full depths of his feelings for her, his ever-present lust, his desire to be so much more than a brother and confidant.

She knew he liked tall, slim, small-breasted girls, her physical type. She could never know that what he really liked was features, bodies, anything and everything, that reminded him of his beautiful, sensual, perfect sister.

Grabbing his keys, he headed out, finding his thoughts returning to the phone call he had overheard yesterday, and why the two girls were at the Faire at all today.

———

"What? No!" It wasn't like Liz to yell like that. Todd's ears had perked up at her tone.

She had continued after a brief pause. "It's going to be perfect Sunday - overcast so less chance of sunburn in, you know, delicate spots."

The disappointment was clear in his sister's voice. She had to be on the phone with Suzy, her best friend. "They promised! You said you double checked."

Another pause.

"That's their problem. Let the store stay closed for one goddam day. They promised you could have Sunday off; I bought the tickets. Dammit!"

He had pictured his only sibling's face, flush with emotion. He'd heard a soft impact that he interpreted as her small fist hitting her bed. What was happening Sunday? Something that needed tickets. And she'd mentioned sunburn on - what was it? - 'delicate spots.'

She sighed. "I know, Suz. Renn Faire will be fun tomorrow. But I finally got my nerve up, my body...confidence. The Faire is all about push-up wench bodices showing off maximum cleavage - your department. My little titties don't...cleave."

Todd was relieved to hear her laughing tone now. His dear sister Lizzy could never stay upset for long; she was too bright and cheerful by nature. It was one more reason he often found himself comparing other girls to her, unfavorably. It wasn't fair that his closest confidant, the one person he could always trust to be there for him, was the horrible combination of drop-dead tall and slim gorgeous, with a delightful personality, and who happened to be his one and only sister.

What she'd said was true: Suzy - petite but with an almost over-balanced bust line - had the type of build made for Renaissance festivals and their embrace of tightly laced 'wench' costumes designed to lift and show as much cleavage as possible. He had noticed it and commented last year, when the three of them had gone together to the local Faire, that the fashion seemed to reward quantity over quality.

That memory reminded him of what had happened later, when Suz had snuck into his bed, still a little drunk from the over-priced tankards of ale, whispering that she wanted to prove that sometimes quantity and quality are not mutually exclusive. He had lost his virginity that night to his sister's buxom friend, and definitely enjoyed it, but his deepest secret shame was the knowledge that at the moment of his powerful climax he had closed his eyes, blocking the sight of Suz's bouncing, swaying endowment above him, instead visualizing small, firm, high breasts so much like his sister's.

No. Not just 'like' his sister's.

He had to be honest, at least with himself: it was his sister herself, in all her slim, gorgeous glory, who he had imagined riding him that night. It had been his sister he'd seen himself pumping his seed into, his eyes tightly closed. The same sister, the image of whose slim, lithe body had been tormenting him that entire day, since he had accidentally spied her that morning, a year ago now, through an ajar bathroom doorway, about to pull on her gauzy flowing dress, totally, gloriously nude. Even now, he felt his groin stirring at the thought of the sight, from her glorious long legs to firm, perfect handfuls capped with small, erect nipples, all defined by distinct, pale, bikini-shaped tan lines.

Wait. Nude? Was that it? His hand tightened on the steering wheel.

This Sunday was the annual Nude Day fest at a locally famous farm only two towns over. 'A Celebration of the Skin You're In' they called it in their ads. Now Liz's comments about sunburn and 'body confidence' made sense. The two girls had been planning on going to Nude Day tomorrow!

His mind raced. The two siblings shared almost all their secrets with each other, good and bad. But Lizzy had seemed evasive lately, offering only a vague excuse as to why she was suddenly going to a tanning salon instead of lying out in their parents' private, sunny backyard. Did that mean his sister's lean, glorious body would be tanned bronze all over now, with no bikini lines?

Even though they both lived on their own, Todd sharing a rental house with three friends and Lizzy in her own small apartment, it was an established habit for both siblings to stay together in their much larger family home whenever their parents took one of their frequent RV camper trips. Mom made sure the fridge and freezer were stocked for them and they both enjoyed hanging out in the familiar environment together. More than once, Suz had teased the two for being 'more like a married couple than brother and sister.'

Todd was ashamed to admit to himself that he looked forward too much to these times together, to the feeling of his sister cuddling with him on the couch when they watched a movie, and how much he missed, recently, the guilty sights of her slender, athletic figure sunbathing in only a skimpy bikini.

LIZZY

"Sweet ride! We need a ride, don't we, Lizzy? Lizzy says I'm too drunk."

Liz couldn't help rolling her eyes at her much shorter, curvier - and flirtier - friend. The car, part of the long line of vehicles inching toward the exit, was full, front and back, with young men in a variety of floppy hats and kerchiefs, oversized leather accessories, and gauzy, loose shirts. The one leaning out the window, staring directly at a certain well-displayed cleavage as he offered his 'carriage's' services, was affecting an accent that ranged from Shakespearean through Piratical and on to a Mel Gibson sort of Scottish medieval, all in one sentence. Suz wasn't the only one sounding a bit drunk.

Lizzie tried to cut off the direction the conversation was headed. "Sorry, dudes, err....good gentles. We do already have a ride coming..."

The young fop grinned, turning back toward his companions. "'Coming?' The statuesque lass sayeth she's 'coming.'"

That brought hoots from inside the car. Fortunately, a series of honks from the truck behind them spurred the carload of testosterone forward, before Suz decided to climb in through a window.

"What?" Suzy shrugged bare shoulders, making her glitter-dusted décolletage shimmer and shimmy. "It's just the glitter. It catches their eyes."

The glitter had been a 'gift' from another flirting fellow, within minutes of their entering at the Faire's ticket gate, and now accented the sizable expanse of soft, bare skin showing above her bodice. He had insisted, of course, of making a prolonged show of scattering the 'fairy dust' carefully over her 'vast tracts of land.'

"No, Suz, it's not the glitter." Liz shook her head. "It's the boobs."

"Ahem." The throat-clearing sound came from behind them.

"Not every head turneth, nor every eye focuseth on the largest stone, when a smaller gem mayeth be the finest emerald while the biggest be but a trinket of glass."

Jesus. Not this clown again. It being the Faire, where the most geeky of men consider themselves both poets and players for the day, Liz had already received more flirting efforts than was typical in a month in the real world, even if they came from a more limited number of supplicants than the many bedazzled man-moths drawn to the gleaming light of Suz's chest. But this particularly smitten one seemed to consider Liz as his special lodestone and could not take a hint. She had ignored his aggressive, obsequious attempts several times already. It didn't help that his costume was of the cheesiest sort, in colors and artificial fabrics that looked glaringly out of place in this mock-historic setting.

She let her frustration, fed by disappointment that this weekend had not gone at all the way she'd hoped, to add an edge to her retort. If her brother Todd had been here with her, arm in arm, like last year, this fellow's kind would have kept their distance. More than once he had scared off a too-eager flatterer with not much more than a glare, and he must have put on 20 pounds of muscle since then, mainly in broadened shoulders and a deeper chest.

"Seriously? 'Mayeth? Focuseth?'" She almost sneered, elbows wide as she rested her hands on slim hips.

Her most ardent follower's eyes widened. He had made multiple attempts at charming her with both flattering and flowery speech over the course of the day, but this was the first time she had actually responded.

"The lady doth finally deign to speaketh with me. Huzzah!" His voice was loud, carrying. His chest puffed out, not quite filling the too-pressed pirate shirt he wore below a protruding frilly white ruff that surrounded his rather frail-looking neck. One hand fell to the hilt of the obviously cheap sword at his side as he executed a awkward bow. The main effect was to draw attention downward, where his bony legs were encased in sagging mustard-yellow tights.

The thought of Todd being with her stole her attention. She might slip her arm inside her strong, handsome brother's and stroll through the winding paths and charming shops of the Faire, with no one knowing they were not a couple, deeply in love.

That idea caught at her heart, caused a hitch in her breath. Todd slipping his arm low about her waist, holding her close. Not just seeming to be a couple, but feeling and acting like one. What would it be like to slip her arms behind her sweet, smart, sexy brother's neck, in the shade of one of these ancient oaks, seeing the gleam in his eyes and know he wanted her as totally, as madly as she wanted him? Would he pull her closer, kiss her slowly at first, until their shared passion demanded more?

"Huzzah and hurrah indeed. Uh. Verily." Her attention obviously not on him, her flatterer's enthusiasm had waned. He seemed to deflate. He openly pouted.

She glanced aside, hoping he didn't take her quick smile as laughter at his expense. "Look, dude."

He visibly perked up at her again addressing him. "I appreciate your efforts. The gem bit was your best line yet, just too...stilted. But I am simply not interested at all, okay?"

"Verily. I doth understand. But doth thou understand, that I have pledgethed my troth, my very soul to thee and thine divine pulchritude?"

Liz sighed, shoulders dropping. "Dude! Enough!"

"Fair lady, is this ne'er-do-well bothering you?" The voice was strong, welcome, and immediately recognizable as her brother's.

"Todd!"

Liz ran to him, pressing her slim body to his as she wrapped arms around his neck. God! She wanted to kiss him right then, and not just because of his excellent timing.

TODD

He was directed by parking guards to enter through the eastern side gate, avoiding the traffic jam of exiting cars. His brief stroll toward the main lot, where the girls should be, reminded him of the fun this place could be. He shook his head, smiling, at three young men, obviously performers, who knelt a short distance behind a woman who seemed to be bargaining with a shopkeeper. The three touched foreheads to the ground, crying out 'We're not worthy!' and 'Goddess! We worship only thee!'

Goddess was quite a sight, though she had made no attempt at wearing a historical costume. Instead she sported very short, faded jeans shorts above toned, muscular legs and a neon green bikini top that barely held a pair of breasts that must have been enhanced by an outstanding surgeon.

Todd strode on after a chuckle at the impromptu parade. He used one hand to shield his eyes from the low sun. It wasn't long before he saw the outline of another beauty talking to another young man, both silhouetted by evening glare. He chuckled again at what he saw: the low sun illuminated the girl's long, sexy legs through her thin skirt perfectly. Slender legs, with graceful curves that seemed stretched out forever. The way she stood, hands on hips, feet apart, looked like she was in the process of telling the guy off. Her stance opened a wide gap between slim thighs, obvious with the bright orange light flooding through. If the girl was wearing any underwear, there was no sign of it. It was a confident stance, somewhere between irritated and angry, a stance that his sister used often. Crap. His sister.

He couldn't see her face clearly in the sun's glare, but that was Lizzy. His Lizzy. And the skinny popinjay bothering her, the one in the bad attempt at a 'Romeo' costume, from the yellow hose to his stiff white collar radiating out from his pencil-neck, suddenly became Todd's enemy.