Stacy King and I

Within a few minutes we were seated at a back table surrounded by rustic wood and farm tools at The Crowe's Nest. The floors were old decking from porches and homes around the area and the walls were made of wood from old barns, some with red or white paint peeling and flaking, exposing the grayed wood beneath. There were rusted road signs and old metal advertising signs peppering the walls between rusted out mule-driven plows, hoes and mauls.

"So this place has good wings, huh?" Stacy asked as she eyed the walls and bobbed her head to the barely audible country music soundtrack playing overhead.

"What? You don't believe me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Do you trust me to order you my favorite?"

"I don't know. I thought we were doing buffalo wings."

"I can order you wings if you want, but there's something I like better. Still in the same vein, though. So do you trust me?" I asked.

"Okay. But it better be good," she said with a mock scowl, broken soon enough with a smile.

The waitress approached us in her worn jeans and snug ash gray t-shirt with the restaurant logo on the left chest, which was also in a larger version on the back. "Hey. Thanks for coming to The Crowe's Nest," she said as she dropped two rolled napkins with silverware inside at our places. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Actually we're ready to order. Now I know this isn't on the menu, but it used to be and you guys will still make it on request. We want two buffalo chicken sandwiches with ranch dressing and two sweet teas."

I looked over at Stacy and she gave me an approving nod with eyebrows raised. I smiled back at her and nodded as the waitress wrote it down.

"Sure thing. I'll be right back with your tea and fries." I watched as she walked away, her ass held snug in her jeans and her blonde pony tail swinging back and forth over the eyes of the large smiling crow on the back of her t-shirt.

"So," my goddess interrupted me, "What are we looking at tomorrow?"

"Well, the juniors and seniors registered today, so sophomores register in the morning and the freshmen," I pointed at her teasingly with a smile, "register after lunch."

"Okay. Then do we have plans for the morning?"

"Not really. If you want to unpack you can, or just sit around, or we can go into town and poke around. It's your call."

"All right," she said. "How about we play it by ear so I don't have to commit?"

"Sounds good to me," I replied as the waitress returned with our teas in clear plastic cups and set down a red plastic basket lined with wax paper and overflowing with thick steak-cut fries. "Thanks," I said to her as she smiled and dropped two wrapped straws on the butcher block table before walking away again.

"So," I said as Stacy squirted ketchup all over the fries and grabbed the first one, "England has been very good to you, it seems."

Taking a sip of her tea through her straw, she smiled and said, "Yeah, I guess so. It was a good experience. I enjoyed it, but it's good to be home. I really missed you, T." She frowned a little when she said it.

"I missed you, too. I'm glad you're home. I hate that I missed you...um...growing up the last couple of years."

She looked down and thrust her chest out, "You mean 'growing out', brother?" She looked at me, moved her shoulders back and forth, then burst out laughing, causing her chest to bounce. My face turned red and fortunately I didn't have to respond as I was rescued by the returning waitress with our sandwiches and a pitcher of tea to top off our drinks.

Stacy was just as distracted as I was by the sandwiches. Each sandwich consisted of two fried chicken breast tenders tossed in buffalo sauce with ranch dressing poured over top. The tenders rested side by side on long rye hoagie rolls and had a blanket of lettuce and tomato on top. She took her first bite and breathed out through a mouthful of chicken and bread, "Oh, my God. This is so good. We are definitely coming back here! A lot!"

I began to laugh a little and she smiled while asking, "What?"

I reached for a paper towel off the roll resting on a stand at the edge of the table, and I dabbed the corner of her mouth where a dollop of ranch dressing had made its home. "There," I said, "that's better." She smiled sweetly at me before grabbing a paper towel of her own and dabbing both corners of her mouth just in case.

We spent the rest of our time at The Crowe's Nest laughing, swapping stories and catching up on the last two years. Our waitress was courteous and faithful to continue refilling our drinks and bringing out more fries when we would run low. Next thing we knew we were alone with the staff and I checked my watch. "Oh, shit! It's 8:30! We've been talking for three hours." I waved the waitress over and apologized, leaving a very generous tip, even though the place had been mostly empty the entire evening. Stacy paid the check as promised and we walked back out into the warm humid Georgia summer.

It wasn't long before we were back at the apartment, where I again followed Stacy up the stairs.

Cutie

Cutie

Cutie

Cutie

"I don't really feel like unpacking or making the bed tonight. It's kind of late," she said.

"That's all right. You can stay in my bed and I'll take the couch."

"I couldn't do that, T. I'll take the couch."

"Now, that I won't allow," I argued, ever the gentleman. We bickered back and forth and she finally agreed to let me sleep on the couch and to take my bed. It was only for one night, after all and tomorrow we could get her room set up.

"Well, do you want to watch a movie? I may not feel like unpacking, but we can relax a little," she suggested.

"Sure. Poke around on Netflix and see what strikes your mood. I'm going to go tidy up and change for bed." I walked into my room and grabbed some gym shorts and an old t-shirt. While I typically slept nude, I usually dressed down until I climbed into bed. Tonight, however, I would be wearing something. I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, looking myself in the eye as the thoughts in my head brought unfettered shame.

You'd better get a handle on things, buddy. That's your sister in there. Don't forget that. Pull your head out of your ass and keep your dick in check.

I changed into my t-shirt and pulled off my jeans to wash up after a hot day. I was about to pull on my shorts, when halfway up my legs I stopped to think. I don't usually wear underwear to sleep in. But I don't usually get embarrassed by a boner...Aw, hell. Don't worry about it. You should be fine. Nothing's gonna happen. I finished pulling up my shorts and went into the living room where Stacy had found a movie and the home screen was paused, waiting for me to return.

Stacy abruptly stood up, her breasts jiggling. "I'm going to clean up, too. Go ahead and get your bed ready. I'm a little chilly, so I may want to cover up with the blanket." I gathered a pillow, sheet and blanket from the closet and fixed the couch into a bed. About the time I finished, she was back in the living room with her hair down, dressed in a similar white tank top and plaid men's boxers. She shot me a smile as she plopped down on the couch and pulled the blanket over her legs before swinging them up onto the couch. I just stood there like an idiot for a second until she snapped me out of it.

"Sit down. I'll put my feet on your lap. Feel free to give me a foot rub." She smiled...and I think she winked again. I think. It was quick, but I think I saw one. I relaxed on the end of the couch while she sat propped against the opposite armrest. As soon as I rested on the cushion, her feet and lower calves were resting on my lap. I hoped to avoid an embarrassing erection, but I was making no promises. "Ready?" she asked, waving the remote.

"Yeah, go ahead," I answered, lifting the foot furthest out and beginning by pulling on each individual toe, lightly stretching. Over the next few minutes I would work from the outside of her foot inward: toes, heel, ball, outside edges, finishing with the arch. Every once in a while, she would let out a little giggle ("That tickles," she would say with smile) or a small moan where her head would drop back and her eyes would close. When she would open them she would look at me in a way that I believe was unintentionally sexy, but sexy nonetheless. These responses usually came when I would press my thumbs into her arch. Sometimes her leg would tense and her toes point. I could swear her hips would grind on occasion, but it was hard to tell with the blanket pulled up. I don't know how she did it; I was starting to get warm, but that may not have been the blanket. Between the air conditioning and the ceiling fan I should have been cool, but I found myself getting turned on, and my dick was starting to respond. I was startled by Stacy's voice.

"You know, Thomas," she began, her voice jerking my head away from the movie. She wasn't looking at me, but the television screen. "The feet are erogenous zones for a lot off people."

"Really?" I croaked. "Where did you hear that?"

"While I was in England I took advantage and would spend short trips in Europe. There is more sexual freedom in a lot of places there. They have porn shops, book stores and sex toy businesses everywhere. You don't have to feel the shame you do over here."

"Okaaaay... and you heard about the erogenous zones from visiting a porn shop?" I guessed.

She laughed, throwing her head back. "No, nothing like that," she said. "But I did visit a few book stores and did a little reading. I read the Kama Sutra," she stated in a way that sounded like it was supposed to surprise me, "And some erotic fiction."

Afraid to ask, I did anyway. "Were you looking for some ideas for a boyfriend over there?"

"No. Sometimes I would get asked out or someone would ask if I was in a relationship. I just told them I had someone waiting for me back home." I didn't remember her ever mentioning a boyfriend or crush, but that didn't mean anything. Love can be a sensitive area, especially if the one you have a crush on, doesn't feel the same way.

"Oh. Okay." Nothing was said for the next few minutes as I massaged the other foot. I had incorporated lower calf massages into the foot rub, which was mutually enjoyable if her squirming and moaning gave any indication. At one point when I was rubbing her calf, Stacy stretched her leg and her foot pressed against my solid erection. She didn't say anything, but I saw her lips curl in a smirk.

After a few minutes, Stacy broke the silence. "You give great massages, brother. I should get you to treat me more often."

"I can do that," I said nonchalantly, although honestly, the thought of running my hands on my sister's skin on a regular basis only served to fuel my erection. I was starting to leak a little after more than an hour's idle touching, concentrated massaging, and an afternoon of watching her bounce around.

The movie ended just a few minutes later and Stacy flipped back to cable. There was a peal of rolling thunder outside, from a distance, echoing through the foothills where our little town was nestled. I told Stacy "seven" indicating the channel that has the best local weather report. She immediately flipped over to channel seven and we watched a band of red, green and yellow extend over the white circle labeled as our little town. At the bottom of the screen we watched the names of local towns scrolling across the screen followed by tornado watches and warnings, flash flood warnings and storm warnings.

Stacy became visibly nervous, her eyes showing the fear she tried to hide. She had never liked storms. I can't count how many times she would show up in my room at the sound of cracking thunder and crawl in my bed for protection, even though there's no way I could protect her from the storm. She just felt safe, I guess. She looked over at me as if expecting me to reassure her. "It's all right, Stacy. I'll be here." It's apparently all she needed to hear. She smiled a little and looked down.

She stood up and walked to my end of the couch before leaning down and giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, brother for taking care of me," she said, just above a whisper. She had one hand on the back of the couch just behind my head and her other hand rested behind her back. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it. Her breasts hung low in her tank top while she bent over me, her cleavage deep and dark and tantalizing. She had to have known I saw it, but showed no sign. She stayed like that for no reason. I smelled her shampoo and/or body spray as her hair hung by my head, teasing me. My cock twitched, but fortunately it was still covered by the blanket.

"I'm glad to do it. Anything for you," I whispered in return. We just looked into each other's eyes for a moment before she leaned down and kissed me on the cheek again, this time more on the corner of my mouth. She lingered for just a moment, then backed up a little. Before she straightened up she whispered, "Thanks again." When she stood up I noticed that her nipples were poking against her tank top. I can't blame her. I was harder than before, too. I wanted so badly to believe that my sister wasn't making a pass at me, but another part of me wanted to believe I wasn't some sicko perving on my sister.

When she disappeared around the corner, I sat in silence not really watching the news that was on and quickly heard the door to my room close. I dropped my head back on the back of the couch and thought to myself, Dammit, T. Get a hold of yourself. You won't be able to keep this up for the rest of your life, not even the rest of college. I needed relief so I could get some sleep. Confident that Stacy was in for the night, I removed my t-shirt to use as a rag and lifted my butt to pull my shorts down and free my aching hard-on.

Immediately my mind went into fantasy mode. And immediately my mind jumped to Stacy as my fantasy. It was only fantasy, right? Is it still wrong if I just fantasize about my sister? It didn't matter at that point. I replayed the images in my mind of the day's events, recreating a different scenario. I replayed her run toward me on campus, this time in slow motion and quickly her shirt disappeared, allowing her monumental breasts to move freely. No one noticed but me. Immediately my mind jumped to her walk down the stairs on the way to dinner. Only now she was wearing a thong instead of her cheer shorts. "Do you like my ass, brother?" she peaked over her shoulder to ask. "It's yours if you want it." I didn't even have to know what that meant for it to cause an eruption. My thighs and stomach began to burn as my hand tightened around my shaft and increased in speed because I could feel my orgasm rapidly building. My head was laid back, my eyes closed, so I felt the eruption but didn't see it. It felt like a gallon and was probably the biggest orgasm of my life to this point.

"Oh, my God." I heard the whisper from my right and jerked my head around in fright. Sure enough, my sister had come out of my room and caught me jerking off! She looked me right in the eye and withdrew her hand from her boxers. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, this time at being busted, "I'm so sorry! I just, uh... I needed...you know, it's okay for you to...Oh, shit, I'm so sorry!" She practically leapt around the corner. If this had been a cartoon there would have been a Stacy-shaped puff of smoke, she moved so fast.

"Shit," I muttered as I sat there covered in my own cum, spattered on my chest and stomach and running down over my fingers. I had to make this right. Had she heard me call out her name? Did I even say her name? Dammit, I couldn't remember! I quickly wiped myself off and pulled my shorts back up. The thunder outside continued to roll, more frequently now and much more closely. The storm was upon us.

I knocked on Stacy's door and she asked me to come in. She seemed timid, maybe embarrassed. I needed to take the blame and clear some things. I could only hope she would forgive me. I opened the door and stood in the opening. "Stacy, I"

"I'm so sorry, Thomas," she cut me off. "I'm so embarrassed I don't know what to say." She sounded like she was beginning to cry. Her voice was tense and cracking.

"You don't have anything to apologize for. I should have known better. I mean, we're sharing this apartment and I need to be more respectful of our shared..."

"But you caught me playing with myself right there in the living room!" she burst out crying and covered her face with a pillow, sobbing into it.

I was confused. I was the one on the couch perving on my sister while I jizzed all over myself. What was she talking...OH! Shit! She had her hand in her shorts when I looked over. That must be what she was talking about, and I embarrassed her.

"Stacy." I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. She had her back to me. I touched her shoulder and she flinched a little. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you. I didn't even know. In fact I didn't know you were there or I wouldn't have been...uh...taking care of things myself." I saw her shake and couldn't tell if she was sobbing or laughing. I heard a sharp intake of breath before she rolled over, removing the pillow from her face. Her red face had a smile on it and she wiped her tears away. "I know. And that's another thing I'm sorry about. I shouldn't have walked back out there unannounced." Her smile faded. "I'm really sorry. Thank you for not being mad at me."

"I couldn't be mad at you! I thought you were mad at me! I thought you came into the living room, saw me, and freaked out."

"Well, I did come into the living room and see you. Actually,...ahem...I, uh...I watched you." She looked down and was idly playing with her heart pendant as she said it.

"I'm sorry? Did you say you watched me?" I asked, incredulous.

"Um, yeah. I couldn't help it," she looked at me, protesting my dismay. "You looked so..."

"Yeah? 'So'...what?"

"Amazing," she muttered.

"Amusing, you say?"

"Amazing!" she repeated more loudly.

"Oh." I was shocked.

She continued to look me in the eye and repeated with a wry smile, "Amazing."

"Uh..."

"You look good, T." She glanced down at my crotch, hopefully failing to be subtle rather than openly expressing admiration. That would have just been weird.

And kind of hot.

What if she did, though? What if she wanted me to catch her? Could she want me, too? No, that's crazy. Not Stacy. She's the hot one, not me. She can have anyone she wants. I'm average looking at best. She's brilliant, beautiful, creative, I could go on. But she just told me I look good. No, wait. "Amazing." That's what she said. She said I look "amazing."

"Well...since we're being honest here, in an awkward sort of way, I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since you got here this afternoon."

"Good," she said with a smile. "That's why I dressed the way I did tonight at dinner. I did it for you. I wanted you to notice me. It's why I wore your boxers and this tank top to watch the movie. And it's why I asked you to rub my feet. I needed you to touch me."

"Wow."

"And I know you enjoyed it, too, brother. I felt it on my foot. I know you were hard touching me."

"I don't..."

"And I liked watching you. I'm glad I came in when I did. I got turned on watching you masturbate, T. You looked so good when you came. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"Stacy, I..." I stammered.

"Yes, brother?" she asked coyly.

"I'm glad you saw." I swallowed hard. "I...I was thinking of you when I did it. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known. You're right that I enjoyed massaging your feet. I just wanted to touch you."

"You know, Thomas," she said, sitting up," I don't really think it's fair that I got to watch you cum and you didn't get to see me. Do you?" Without another word and without waiting for an answer, my sister lay back and lifted her right knee so that her foot was flat on the bed, and looking me in the eye she slid her right hand into the waistband of her shorts. I could tell when her hand reached her pussy because she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. After a moment, she settled down again and looked me in the eye. I looked down to see her arm moving in small smooth motions: circular and then up and down, while her hand gave her secret pleasure inside the green plaid boxers.