Half-Sister, Full Lover

I lived alone at the time, my wife and I having been separated for nearly a year. You know how those things go...we just had different paths, I guess. I work at a software/gaming company. I test out some of the stuff to help out, but I mostly work with programming code. After my wife and I split, I tried dating, thinking I could get right into it again after three years, but I found out differently. About four bad dates later, I quit trying to date, figuring that if I just chilled out, the opportunity would present itself. I even tried partying with friends from work, but they kept trying to set me up with these barflies and otherwise untrustworthy women. After a few weeks of this I gave up on that, and porn became my best friend. I went out and bought a new computer, the latest model with the best hardware and software, and started downloading porn from various sites, building up quite a collection, something I'd wanted to do as a teenager. Don't get me wrong, porn isn't something I spend all my time with. It's just that I've been something of a horn-dog since I was a kid.

After the split, I moved into a two-bedroom apartment, and I kept the second bedroom open in case one of my friends from work had to sleep off a hangover or something like that. I grew pretty comfortable living on my own, and began to wonder why I'd gotten married in the first place. One day while I was cooking breakfast, my doorbell rang. I answered it and was shocked. My younger sister, Hannah, stood there, all of nineteen with raven black hair and brown eyes. She's more like my half-sister, since my dad remarried, and she's half Japanese, which turned out in her case to be an awesome combination of a willowy body with larger assets. I hadn't seen her since she was in diapers, and I was amazed at how quickly she'd seemed to grow up! From looking at my stepmother, I wouldn't have expected Hannah to have turned out to be so beautiful! It also saddened me to realize that I hadn't been around to really be her big brother. I'd left to live with my mother after my folks split up when I was nine, and only visited my pops a few summers. I couldn't stand being around my stepmother longer than a summer at a time. But here she was, out of the blue, standing on my doorstep.

Hannah smiled uncertainly at me, and I put my arms out. She stepped into my arms, returning a slightly awkward hug.

"I know I should've called first," she shrugged, "but I thought I'd surprise you."

I affirmed that I was indeed surprised, and she continued, "I'm starting college here in a couple weeks, but there's some problem with my dorm room. Dad said you lived in this area, so I was hoping that I could stay here until they fix it."

Now that she mentioned it, I did kind of remember Dad saying that she'd be going to college in the fall, but I had never thought to ask where. Some brother I was!

Feeling like this might be a chance to make up for being such a shitty brother, I laughed, "Sure, what kind of brother would I be to say no?"

She replied, "My only brother..."

I offered to help her bring in her luggage. She sniffed the air, which was redolent of bacon and scrambled eggs, my specialty, and asked, "How about some breakfast first?"

I gave her the bacon and scrambled eggs that I'd made for myself, and started cooking a new batch for myself. She sat at the small table and began eating.

"If all your food is this good," she grinned around a mouthful of eggs, "I'm just gonna have to come by all the time."

I shrugged, "Heck, if you want, just come live here and tell them you don't want the dorm room after all."

"I can't do that. I didn't even tell you I was coming here in the first place. I don't want to cramp your style. Besides, you just got divorced, didn't you? I'd just be in the way."

"Cramp my style?" I laughed, "I cramp my own style so much that I think having you here might even un-cramp it. Think about it, how cute is a guy that lets his little sister stay here while she goes to college? You're a babe-magnet!"

She giggled, "You degenerate! I haven't even been here ten minutes and you're using me to score with chicks!"

I sat down with my food and crunched on a piece of bacon, "Seriously, you can stay here as long as you want. Between my job and your classes, we might not see much of each other, though. But, for as long as you want to stay, make yourself at home."

For the time being, she assured me that she'd just be staying until her dorm room was available. After breakfast, I helped her bring her bags into the apartment, and I set her up in the second bedroom. As she was unpacking some of her things in the room, I glanced around, glad that I'd gotten into the habit of picking up after myself. It was one of those things that I'd picked up on only after I became single. Glancing around, my eyes happened on the computer. I thought about all the porn I'd collected on there. I was serious when I told Hannah she could make herself at home, and that meant my computer, but what would she think if she found all that porn? She'd probably think I was some pathetic, deranged, sex-fiend. I sat down and began gathering all the files into one big folder, and then hid it in a series of subfolders. She'd have to know it was there to be able to find it. After I'd finished hiding my collection on the computer, I went around the apartment, hiding my videos and magazines as well. What can I say, I like porn. Some of it is pretty retarded, and a lot of it is redundant, but it helps to alleviate some of the pressure, you know?

The next week, the two of us settled into an easy routine. Her classes started, some of them in the morning, a few in the afternoon, and my work schedule began at seven and ended at four. I can tell you, I wouldn't put in that many hours unless I enjoyed my job. I'd get home around four-thirty and change, alleviate some pressure (wink, wink), and after a shower, I would start on dinner. Hannah's class ended around five-thirty or thereabouts, and she'd get home about six off the transit bus, we'd eat, and then just chill out and put our feet up, watching movies or whatever. It was a little surprising how easily we got along, even with our distance growing up. I mean, we did have a few small glitches, like when she'd invite her friend over without clearing it with me, but those glitches were minor, and were simple to get around. Besides, her friend was pretty cute. The only real problem...as we hung out in the evenings and over the weekends, I couldn't help but begin to notice...my sister was hot! Don't judge me. I'm willing to bet my savings that any of you guys with a hot sibling have thought that same thing before. Her outfits that she wore to school were pretty hot, knee-length skirts, midriff blouses, low-cut tight jeans, clothes that showed off her best assets, of which she had several (assets and clothes), but it was what she wore at the apartment, pajamas, shorts, tank-tops, just casual things, that had my mind going in directions that would make decent societies cringe.

Once her dorm room was ready, we talked it over, and she decided that she wanted to just stay here in the apartment with me.

"Unless you don't want me to... I mean, I can just go live in the dorm," she was clearly hoping the opposite.

"Don't be silly," I laughed, "I meant what I said. You're quite welcome to stay here as long as you want. To tell you the truth, I kinda like having you around. I feel a little bad that I wasn't much of a big brother, and now I have plenty of opportunity to make up for that."

She cocked her head slightly, "What do you mean? You didn't do that bad of a job as a big brother. You called a lot, and I could always talk to you about things I could never talk about with mom and dad."

It was true. She'd called me several times to talk about things she'd never broach in front of dad, and especially not her mother. One time, she called around one-thirty in the morning to talk to me about one of those forbidden subjects...sex. We'd spent about three hours on that subject.

"Maybe, but that's not the same. I never even got to see you grow up. You do realize that the last time I saw you, I was the one changing your diapers."

She laughed, blushing slightly, "Yeah, but mom made it impossible for you to spend more than a few summers with us. Believe me, I understand. There were plenty of times when I wanted to strangle her. You were better off not having to deal with her."

"Okay, you have a point. Still, though, it's really nice having you around, so you can stay here as long as you want."

She threw her arms around me and planted a big smack on my cheek, surprising me. The only negative thing about it was the effect she was having on me. I had to push her away a little to keep her from noticing the bulge that began making itself known.

So she gave her dorm room up and stayed in my apartment. For five or six weeks our schedule was pretty consistent, until her semester was over, and she decided only to take three classes, the minimum she could take according to her scholarship. She told me that the reason she was taking the minimum was that the classes she was going to take were in the evening, and she wanted that time to hang out with me. I was a little flattered, of course. And I was also having a problem of my own. You see, like many normal guys, I have these fantasies. Usually they revolve around women I've watched on porn, or actresses, things like that, but lately, some of my fantasies have had guest appearances from Hannah. It was disconcerting. I was trying to be a good big brother and made attempts to keep her out of these fantasies, but it did no good. I'd start imagining myself with some hot woman, getting into it, and then I'd look down and the woman was gone, replaced instead by Hannah. To my unpleasant surprise, I also found that her being in my fantasies was more exciting to me than anything. Either she would have to move out, or I'd end up doing something unforgivably stupid and lose my chance to be the big brother she deserved. But I could think of no way to ask her to move out without her thinking she'd done something wrong.

Then one Saturday, while she was out shopping with her friends, I decided to take a little pressure off. I sat down in front of the computer, opened the hidden file. I pulled up a video of these two women, one of which was Asian, and kept a hand towel on the desk for a quick and easy cleanup. About halfway into it, unknown to me, Hannah walked in. Either I was too wrapped up in the video to notice, or she was unusually quiet, but I had no idea she was there. While the two women in the video were going at it with a double-sided dildo, I was getting near that critical pressure-release point, and I grabbed the hand towel and shot my load into it, making sure to wipe myself up for any excess. Slipping my organ back into my pants, I turned the video off, closed the file, and turned the screen off. Then I froze, seeing her reflection in the monitor.

Oh, shit, I thought to myself, and asked, "How long have you been standing there?"

She jumped, startled when I spoke up, and stammered, "I j-just walked in."

I knew she was lying by how she answered, but I let it go. After all, I was the one that had just been caught. "I was thinking you'd be gone longer."

"I'm sorry. Maybe I should've knocked or something."

"No," I sighed, my face burning, "You live here, you shouldn't have to knock. I was kind of hoping this wouldn't happen. I'm sorry."

That awkward pause that I hated reigned the next few minutes before I could stand the silence no longer, "I thought you went shopping."

Confused, she nodded, "I did."

"Where're your bags? I didn't hear any bags rattling when you came in."

Laughing awkwardly, she nodded over her shoulder, "I left them in my car. I was gonna ask if you'd help me bring them up."

I got up, eager to just not deal with this highly embarrassing situation at the moment, and helped her bring several bags upstairs.

"Holy crap!" I exclaimed, laden with several bags of her purchases, "Was there anything left in the store when you were done?"

She laughed a little self-consciously, "Not really, there was a sale."

I helped her bring the bags inside, but as the awkward silence made an encore appearance, I realized that we would have to talk about this. When I began, "Listen, about earlier..."

She waved her hand nonchalantly, though still blushing, "Oh, don't worry about it. This is your apartment, and you can do what you want. I'll just call before I'm on my way to give you plenty of time to....do whatever."

I protested, "Hey, as long as you're here, this is your apartment, too. I'll just do...that... in my room if I need to."

Clearly embarrassed still, she argued, "I don't want to keep you off your computer. If I didn't need to use it for school, I'd say you could probably set it up in your room. I don't know," she snickered, "Should we work out a schedule?"

Laughing a little, I answered, "No, I don't think that will be necessary. We'll figure it out, okay?"

Although the first few days were still a tad awkward, the issue faded, and the next week became a little easier. She came home crying the next Tuesday, tossing her backpack next to the front door and retreating to her room. I was cooking dinner, and I turned the burners off and went to see what was wrong.

I knocked on the door, "Hannah? Can I come in for a minute?"

I heard her sniffling, a few beats of silence, and then she answered the affirmative. I walked in and found her on her bed, facing away from me with her pillow in her arms. I sat down on the corner and waited for her to decide if she wanted to talk about it. In the few minutes, I had plenty of time to look around her room. She had a few posters on the wall, her scattered knick-knacks on the dresser. Finally, she turned to face me.

"Why are guys such assholes?"

I shrugged, "Because women are complicated to us, and we rarely know how to act, so we usually do or say the wrong thing."

"I met this guy in class, and he seemed nice, so we went out to this little deli on lunch break. Everything was going fine until he suggested that I go with him to his dorm room. Apparently, he had some idea that I would, so when I said no, he got all pissed off and called me a prude bitch! Then he left me sitting there. I was so pissed that I barely made it through afternoon class. I feel so stupid!"

I waited until she was done, and then suggested, "See? It's pretty rare when a guy does or says the right thing. And with the hormones raging? You might as well carry a Taser."

She laughed through her tears, "I'll look into getting one. I just felt so...he acted like I was the college slut or something."

She suddenly scooted into my arms and laid her head on my chest. This was new to me, but I winged it, putting my arms around her. For almost five minutes, neither of us moved, and then she quit crying, wiping her eyes.

"I didn't mean to dump on you," she mumbled against my chest.

"Think nothing of it. I came in here, didn't I? Why else would I do that if not for you to dump?"

But still, she made no move to get up off my lap, and I didn't want to push her off me, despite that pesky problem with an annoying bulge. Luckily, she wasn't sitting directly on it, so I could claim it was my wallet if she noticed something. And breathing in the scent of her shampoo, pear and cucumber extract, or something like that, and whatever perfume she wore didn't help me any. It'd been at least a year by then since I'd held any woman in my arms. Not that this was any excuse, but still... About five minutes later, somewhat reluctantly, she got off my lap, and I adjusted myself while she went to the bathroom to blow her nose.

"Thank you for listening," she smiled shyly.

I put my arm around her shoulder, "Come on, let me finish making dinner, and we'll scarf it down until we burst."

The next day, I had to stay late at work due to a future unveiling of a new game that was supposed to be the next greatest game since Halo came out. I was picked, along with sixteen other techies, to test the game before it was unveiled to make sure there were no unexpected glitches. I called Hannah when I thought she'd be done with class to warn her.

On the second ring, she picked up, "Hello?"

"Hey, Hannah, it's just me. I'm gonna be at work late. I'm testing a new game, so it may be a few hours. You can order pizza or whatever, if you'd like. I keep a spare bank card in the top drawer of my desk."

"Sure," she said, and then asked, "Would you like me to get you something, too?"

"No, the guys are already ordering food, so I'm covered on that. I should be home by...seven-thirty, eight, around then."

"It's cool. Have fun!"

It actually took a little longer, of course, but when I'd covered my four levels of the game, I bid the others good luck and left for home. When I got to the apartment, I saw that most of the lights were off, so I figured that maybe she knocked off early and went to bed. I made sure to be quiet as so not to wake her, and as I softly closed the door behind me, I noticed a glimmer out of the corner of my eye. Turning back around, my jaw dropped. Hannah was on my computer, and had clearly found my stash of porn in my hidden file. She was mostly naked, clad in only a white bra and a pair of shorts that had been dropped to her ankles. She was engrossed in the exact same video I had been caught watching, and was busy pleasuring herself. Through the somewhat exaggerated moaning of the two women in the video, I could hear Hannah's sighs as she rubbed herself, her smooth legs dangling over the armrests of the chair, open wide for her complete access.

Unable to look away or otherwise show any decency, I crept a little closer, my eyes moving over her body, from her generous C-cup breasts that were barely contained in her bra, to her taut stomach, her firm, well-toned legs, all the way to her dainty feet. With one hand she cupped one breast, squeezing the nipple through the fabric until it poked out visibly. The fingers of her other hand were massaging her clitoris, teasing the nubbin, tracing circles around it. Her eyes were riveted on the video, keeping herself timed to the pace of the ten-minute clip, and when the two women seemed to be close to their own (faked?) orgasms, Hannah's hand sped up, and the other hand joined in, dipping into those thin inner lips with a finger up to the second knuckle. With the added hand, she began gasping, and her cum started to leak out, coating her finger. Then her gasps became moans, and her hips bucked against her hands as she came.

After her bucking ceased, and her breathing returned to normal, she reached for a hand towel that she had set on the desk and wiped herself and the leather office chair clean. I managed to come to a semblance of sanity, not listening to my pulsing erection's singular urges to go see if she needed some help with that, and began to back up towards the door. Maybe I could sneak back out, make some noise to give her time to get herself in order, and then come in like nothing had happened. But, in my half-trance, I only backed up a few steps before colliding with the table, making plenty of noise, and she yanked her shorts up and whirled around like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide, frightened, "Oh...fuck!" She was trembling, and not just from the shock of finding me there. She suddenly dashed to her room and shut the door. I just stood there for a few minutes, my sanity finally coming back full force...well almost. Like any self-disrespecting pervert, I picked up her hastily dropped hand towel and took a deep whiff of the results of her hard work. Even while my rational mind went insane with outrage, suggesting derisive names for myself, the pervert in me had to admit that the smell was quite intoxicating. I forced myself to place it back on the desk, and then knocked on her door.