His Sister's Slave Ch. 02
He made it back home after an hour drenched in sweat. The humidity had already risen quite significantly in just the hour he was out. He paused at the front door to check the time on his witch and made his way through the kitchen to the attached laundry. He started pulling off his shirt when to his surprise, he noticed his laundry hamper pushed up against the washing machine with a note that read: "Do your own laundry pig, you're stinking up my cottage - S." He felt a rush of irritation dissipate the runner's high he had briefly enjoyed as he finished his run. He stripped right down right there and tossed his running clothes, along with the contents of his laundry hamper into the washing machine. He turned the dial and hurried, naked, two steps at a time, up the staircase and slammed his door.
"Her cottage? Who the hell does she think she is?" He said out loud as he strolled over to the shower. It occurred to him that he didn't check to see if she might have seen him naked while he started the washing and dashed upstairs. 'Oh well,' he said to himself as he shrugged, and then laughed to himself. She doesn't live here anymore, so while mom and dad are out, I'll do whatever the fuck I want. This feeling of de facto authority, mixed with the energy he felt from his run, boosted his audaciousness. It also gave him a bulging erection. He adjusted the water temperature and stepped into its prickly downpour. He ran his fingers through his soaked hair, down his torso and to his groin. He glided his fingertips over his balls, up to the base of his cock and then along its velvety length to its sensitive tip. The delicate sensation from his fingertips made his cock twitch. He cupped the underside of his cock in the palm of his hand. He knew that he wasn't massive but he liked how thick he looked and felt in his fist. He stroked back and forth and felt a rippling sensation of pleasure traverse through his clenched ass and upper thighs. He thrust his hips forward as though he was fucking an imaginary cunt.
He closed his eyes and pictured his latest hentai drawing. He was exploring this mental image when all of a sudden Sadie's dismissive and insolent note appeared in his mind's eye. He continued to stroke himself and tried to dismiss this irrelevant and demeaning image from his imagination. But to no avail. And then he began to realise that something about it excited him, he couldn't quite grasp why. He forced himself to visualise the hentai drawing but Sadie's note, again, surfaced in his mind. He should be pissed off at that note she wrote, but he wasn't, he felt quite the opposite. He concentrated on the words, "Do your own laundry pig, you're stinking up my cottage - S." And felt himself beginning to reach climax. He pumped his cock harder and faster as he pushed himself onto the balls of his feet and moaned out loud. He had to hold on to the upright shower conduit as his orgasm shook him. He squirted thick coils of stringy cum onto the teal mosaic tiles of the shower wall and watched as it slithered down and curled into the drain between his feet.
He was suddenly out of breath from cumming so hard and from the steam that that now filled the shower. He switched off the taps, grabbed his towel and dashed toward the bathroom door. The cooler air in his bedroom was a welcome relief, although he was drenched in a mixture of water and perspiration. He collapsed on his bed, a forearm thrust over his closed eyes and contemplated his bizarre shower masturbation scene. He couldn't remember the last time he had had such a powerful orgasm. 'Fuck me,' he thought. That one hit the ball out the park. He thought back to the note Sadie had written. He thought it strange that it should provoke in him such a peculiar state of eroticism. 'Must be just a once off thing,' he surmised. He looked down at his cock, it lay flaccid and calm, as if nothing had happened. He got dressed and went downstairs to fix a ravenous hunger that had overcome him.
Chris used some of the ingredients from the lunch of the previous day to make a sandwich and poured himself a tall glass of orange juice. He arranged his makeshift breakfast on a long wooden tray, and placed it on the coffee table in the living room while he set up up his PlayStaion. The game he was into at the moment was Call of Duty. He didn't enjoy as much for the action scenes or killing but for the mere escapism of it. By nature he actually detested wars and the absurdity of mass organised violence, but at the same time, he was fascinated by them. It was a kind of internal conflict that bothered him and ironically the escapism of this game was what brought him some relief from this inner turmoil.
He was busy manoeuvring the controls with a level of dexterity when he became aware of a presence beside him. It was Sadie. She had slipped in unnoticed, due to the general sound effects of the game, and stood right next to his chair. He turned and looked up at her. She had tied her hair up in a bun and wore a Pixies T-shirt, grey sweat pants and a fluffy pair of open-toe slippers. Her toenails were painted dark blue. He couldn't help draw his attention to the silver lip ring, that occupied the right corner of her mouth. He wondered briefly about how comfortable it was. All he could think to say was, "Hey."
"Hey, yourself," she responded.
"I put some left overs together to make a sandwich, they're in the fridge if you want." Chris took a bite from his sandwich and went back to his game.
"Hmm, OK," she stood there for a minute longer and disappeared into the kitchen.
Chris heard the kettle start to boil and crockery being moved about. He took another bite of his sandwich and washed it down with the last of his orange juice. His mind turned to the note that Sadie had left him and the unusual affect it had had on him in the shower. A shameful shiver tickled his spine and he shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. A little while later, Sadie returned to the living room, with a mug of coffee and a variety of cold meats that she placed on the table beside the sofa upon which she stretched out.
She took a mouthful of her sandwich and cleared her throat, and then in between chews said in the most matter of fact tone of voice, "Your washing is finished. I need you to take it out so I can do my laundry, please."
"Will do in, just a moment," he said.
"Hmm mm," she responded. As if giving him a worded response was too much effort.
He took a last bite and carried his tray back into the kitchen. On his way out he turned to look at Sadie, she was smiling at something on her phone. A strand of blonde hair had fallen past her cheek and she swished it delicately away with her little finger. 'It's as if I don't exist to her, or I exist only enough to get in her way.' He contemplated spending the rest of the day in his bedroom drawing or watching porn, anything to be far away from Sadie.
Chris opened the the lid of the white steel washing machine, leaned into it and brought out items of damp clothing which he then tossed into the dryer. He was just leaning in to fetch the next few items, when he noticed an unfamiliar, blue canvas laundry bag, dotted with white embroidered daisies and propped up against the side of the washing machine. He pushed the damp washing into the dryer and continued emptying the remnants of clothes into the dryer, all the while peering at what was obviously Sadie's bag of dirty laundry. A sudden urge of curiosity took hold of him. He wondered what sort of underwear his sister wore.
He took a few steps to peer through the arch that separated the kitchen from the laundry. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he edged back to Sadie's laundry bag and lifted the opening. The top of the bag cast a shadow onto the contents, so he curled back the edge of the bag to allow for some light. He gulped as he did, because exposed at the top of her laundry lay two pairs of lacy panties, one was white and the other was a pale apricot colour. He plucked up the white one, all the while his heart pounding with excitement. It was a pair of boy-shorts. He could feel the heat from his reddening face as he held Sadie's panties in front of him. He held them to his nose. The soft fabric felt delicate against his skin. He sniffed at it curiously and caught a mixed scent of body odour, fabric softener and a hint of musk. He felt his cock stiffen and press against his pants He touched the outline of his cock and felt a rush of arousal spread through his groin. He took another deep sniff that made him heady with lust. He had an idea. Without thinking it through, he bunched the panties up and pushed them into his pants pocket, closed the canvas bag, switched on the dryer, and casually walked up the stairs to his room.
When he entered his room he shut the door and stood by his bed. He couldn't believe what he had just done and was about to do, but by this time he was so sold to the idea and so turned on. Was he actually perving over his sister's worn panties? He felt repulsed by the idea, but that same repulsive idea, as wrong as it was, excited him even more. He pulled down his shorts and his erect cock sprang forwards. He was so hard his cock was palpitating and had left behind, a small pool of precum that glistened in his boxers. He fell onto his bed, rummaged in his pocket for Sadie undies and opened them up so that the crotch was revealed. He drew it up to his nose, and inhaled slowly and deeply, relishing her tangy aroma. He thought again about the note she had left 'Do your own laundry, pig, you're stinking up my cottage." He felt another surge of ecstasy course through his veins. He couldn't believe he was thinking of his sister in this way.
But the thought of her and that it was so taboo is what drove him on. He imagined her watching him now, on his back, on the bed, pants pulled down to his knees, rigid cock in his hand and smothering his face with her delicate lace undies. He withdrew the panties from his face so that he wasn't inhaling the exhaled carbon-dioxide, placed them back to his nose and again, devoured her juicy fragrant scent. He imagined his face between her soft pale thighs, his nose parting her soft sticky lips and his tongue dipping into the wet, zesty depth of her pussy as she moans and rocks her hips forwards and back. He can feel her hands on the back of his head, guiding him at first and then pushing his face into her hot dripping cunt. "Hmm, lick it up little pig," he hears her saying.
He thrust his pelvis upwards and pushed his head back into the pillow. He was aware of himself moaning. Usually he was quiet masturbator, but the carnal charge that pulsated through his body and radiated out the pores of his skin, overwhelmed him to the point where all he could do was groan, helplessly into the filigree of Sadie's boy-shorts. He savoured one last aromatic inhalation before ejecting a long strand of thick cum that turned and twisted above his cock before descending on to his upper thigh, followed by a sequence of explosive eruptions that covered the back of his hand. He let out a loud low growl as he tilted his hips and pushed his head back into his pillow. He was still relishing the decadent and taboo delight when he jolted at the loud knock on his door followed by his sister's yelling.
"Chris you fucking pervert, I know you stole my panties," she pushed the door open and Chris tried and failed to cover himself by turning over so that Sadie wouldn't see his dripping erection. As he did her panties fell to the floor. He turned his head to look at her. Her mouth had dropped open and her face had crimsoned in outrage.