Thoughts About Alison

I was sitting in that massive empty room where Emily, Dani and I had a glorious, sweaty, covered-in-each-other’s-bodily-fluids threesome. I have ideas for this room and was sketching some out, but my mind was thinking about Ali, and trying to extrapolate backwards. 

You may remember, our first sexual adventure together was simply us masturbating while watching a sexy scene in a movie during lockdown 1. I got to thinking about her sex life before that event.

For a start, she obviously obviously knew how to masturbate since she was doing so without looking at me for clues. Therefore, it was something she already did. Well, of course it was….it’s something 95% of girls do…and the other 5% lie not doing it. 

During the lockdown, we had sex a lot, in fact if you plotted the number of times we did it against time, the curve would be almost vertical. But Ali has never been one to talk much about her early experiences. Sometimes, she would hint at them, but other there wouldn’t be the kind of salacious detail I enjoy.

Oh, and another thing, whenever she did talk about her pre-me sex life, she always looked and sounded guilty about it. Imagine that…a girl who has no problem in sucking her own sister off feeling guilty about her own masturbation! Complex creatures, huh? 

So, as I sketched, I pulled up a list in my mind of what I did know. 

1) She started masturbating when she was 13.

2) She never used anything inside herself.

3) She would think exclusively about boys…..well….mostly.

4) She was scared of peeing herself when she came so she stopped short of orgasm for almost a year after she started playing with herself. (I think most of us have been there to some extent.) 

5) she (like me) adores the feeling of wet panties when she’s horny. 

And that’s it….no info on how she did it in those early years….or when….or what positions she liked…..there were significant gaps…and Miss Brain loathes gaps! So she started to fill them in for me,  almost like one of those painting by numbers kits. 

First, I got an image of Ali at 13. The convent school uniform was green then, and we were known as ‘Greenies” by the locals. I could see Ali clearly in her green jumper, with her emerging boobs pushing the wool outwards, her flat tummy with just the gentlest of swells and her skirt (before they brought in those fucking hideous kilts) tight over her hips and showing her pubic mound. Black tights…always black tights. Ali hated brown or beige…and the mandatory white knee sox.. 

Ali even went for the specified green panties….the ones that come up to your waist…some people call them ‘Granny panties’…still, they were a dark, bottle green which means they would show a young girl’s vaginal discharges off a treat. No doubt the nuns thought they would put boys off and keep our little cherries safe from harm. If they really thought that, they knew nothing of what it takes to put a teenage boy off….or a teenage girl for that matter. 

Which, underneath all that, left Ali. Ali, feeling horny. Ali going to her room and locking her door. Maybe lying in a post-school bath, relaxing after the day and allowing her hand to gently slip under the water between her legs. I could imagine her getting more and more excited, but then forcing herself to a stop before a climax overwhelmed her…after all, who wants to pee in the bath they’re lying in? 

Maybe later, in bed, that feeling hadn’t gone away? Maybe she slipped her hand into her panties in bed, but this time brought herself to the point of orgasm far quicker. I have a theory that orgasms don’t go away. They prowl around the edges of whatever defences you’ve put up against them, and then they strike if you’re not quick enough to prevent them. 

Maybe Ali had a few of these abortive attempts, each one getting closer and closer before she was one touch too late in taking her hand off her clit and the orgasm sagged her. I think…yes….I think she would have been on her back, legs spread wide, but the nanosecond the orgasm hit, she would have rolled onto her side,, drawn her knees up and clamped her legs together… not realising that any change of position, any change of pressure on her clit would simply have stimulated it more and prolonged the cum. 

How breathless she must have been afterwards….and how scared! She would have felt the abundant wetness between her legs (Ali can squirt but she is more of a ‘flooder’ than a squirter) and felt the material of her panties against her. Had the worst happened? Had she wet the bed? How would she explain that one to mum? Maybe she could manage it herself and no-one need know? 

I could imagine her slowly uncurling from her foetal position and gingerly exploring herself. That first, post orgasmic touch. Then sniffing her fingers, only to find it wasn’t pee. Instead a rich, musky scent. She would have done the ‘bunny hop of shame’, trying to get out of bed using her feet and shoulder blades, trying to keep her bum and wet panties off the sheet. 

And then, in her bathroom, standing in the shower, gingerly peeling those panties off and noting the now black material in the crotch. She would have rinsed them out, I’m sure, before tucking them onto the radiator to dry.  Then, the shower. I wonder if the water trickling between her legs prompted ‘seconds’. She would have felt much safer in the shower, although less comfortable. 

Shower done, that would have left only one journey of discovery to make….had she stained the sheets? How carefully she would have approached the bed…..maybe she even did so with her eyes shut! Then……I could imagine the sigh of relief as she found…nothing. You see, when Alison cums, her back arches so much her bum gets lifted up off the bed. (Dangerous, if you happen to be going down on her at the time. Explaining to your dentist that your sister broke your front tooth with her cunt is a conversation I really don’t want to have.)

Back in my cavernous room, I look at my sketch pad, and realise that I’ve drawn a vulva right in the middle of my floor plan. Not only that, but thinking about my sister’s adolescent explorations has made me really horny….a flood of still images of us having sex flits through my internal projection screen. We did some very kinky, very dirty, and one or two very perverted things…as if having sex with your own sister isn’t perverted enough! 

 I will have to do something about it. I get up off my chair, which isn’t the most comfortable chair in the world anyway, and lie on the floor. I close my eyes, and instantly, Miss Brain is all over me. She gives me an almost tangible image of my sister sliding naked into bed with me…actually wait…not quite naked. Her panties are still on. Alison gives me a kiss goodnight, but it’s a kiss that becomes deeper…far less sisterly…..my hand reaches up to her boob. I find we are both trembling with anticipation. Her hand touches my boob and I feel that familiar welt of wetness emerge between my legs…my own mini-flood. My hand travels down her back and I pull her to me so our mounds touch, and she moves up the bed slightly so her clit can be stimulated by my pubic bone…not the most comfortable for me, but I’m being dry humped….by my own sister. 

I’m filled with a desire for her sex. The ‘proper’ part of me (yes, I still have one) tells me “Oh no! You mustn’t! This is your sister! This is incest!” Yes! I know! Wonderful, isn’t it? As my hand tracks around, over her hips and down the front of her panties, I know the feelings of arousal I have are being enhanced because, well, this is  incest! My finger tracks between Alison’s labia don slips effortlessly inside her. I know how to find a g-spot and I find hers, that slightly rougher patch of skin on the front wall of her vagina. I stroke it with a ‘come here’ gesture and she gasps, grinding herself into me more. 

Her hand slips between my legs. I’ve made it easy for her by not wearing panties, and  to say I’m wet is an understatement. 

I’m not sure what happened next, but suddenly we are 69ing. Alison kneels over my face, her face buried between my spread legs. I feel gloriously trapped, imprisoned by her with her cunt as my jailor. As she brings me to climax, I lift my head and bury my tongue inside her triggering her orgasm. I feel her rhythmic contractions on my tongue as I give mine to her. 

As my real orgasm hits me on the floor of that room, the final perversity is added as over to one side, I see our dad watching us, his immense cock in his hand. He stands up, and walks towards us, his intentions clear. My world shatters and for a while, I am utterly insensible. 

When I come round, my hand is still between my legs and in my panties. That was one of the biggest, most awesome orgasms I have had in a long time. I get up (somewhat shakily), pick up my sketch book and have just sat back down when Dani appears with a mug of coffee and some Danish pastries. Just short of me she pauses and inhales deeply. She doesn’t say anything as she sets the tray down besides me, but a smile touches the corners of her mouth as she turns away…..oh dear. 

When I look at my sketches….well….they start off sensible enough. The first is a conversion of the room into a similar indoor/outdoor pool to my parents’. It’s a fabulous design and purely outdoor pools don’t work here…well, not for 7 months of the year anyway. So that’s a thought. 

The second page is an ice rink. Hmmm….nice, but impractical since I’m the only one who skates, and my confidence is not what it was since my accident….scratch that. 

Page three an outline of the room with a detailed, beautifully shaded image of my sister’s vulva slap in the middle. 

Oh…the room? I think, with one  or two changes, the indoor/ outdoor pool idea will win. A sauna would be good, and also a jacuzzi too. We won’t go for the full fitness gym my parents have, but this does mean getting our builders back….which means James, the well muscled son of the builder will be here, stripped to the waist again and causing, well, certainly me and Dani to have some very delicious lustful thoughts!.

Happy days.