Ibiza

Come bedtime we were all too drunk even to wrestle. I'd got it completely wrong; sis was certainly not going to fuck me.

Sleep, food, sunbathe, booze, repeat was the way that holidays were meant to go. We got used to the bar touts promising everything but delivering nothing. I got used to going to the beach every day between eating and boozing. Food and, in particular, alcohol were dirt cheap. The first few days were a novelty, seeing my sister's suntanned tits was great but there were many more to see on the beach; then on Thursday the clouds formed and gradually darkened and the winds picked up.

Intent on making her most of their holiday, the girls hit the sea front shops while we HAPS (husbands and partners) hit the bars, and quite rightly so. Come evening it was still sticky hot; the rain had started but we just partied on. One of the touts was handing out leaflets - 'ROCKY SHAW, XXX HYPNOTIST. FRIDAY EVENING - CLUB MAXIME SOL - STRICTLY ADULTS ONLY '. It was promising a night to remember and the girls started giggling as a couple of them had seen a similar show before. To be honest I wasn't too interested, but Rosie was.

The weather wasn't improving. The strong wind was causing anything not fastened down to move around. We made our way back to the hotel, still in tee-shirts but battling the wind and rain. Rosie was uneasy about the rain rattling the hotel window. We chatted in bed for a long while before settling down to sleep.

I was awoken just after 3am by Rosie trying ease herself into my bed. The rain was driving hard against the window and the room was lit, through the thin curtains, by a long flash of lightening. A loud clap of thunder followed within a second and I was amazed the storm hadn't already woken me.

"Ben, turn over," said Rosie, shaking me, "Ben, wake up, hold me."

"OK, OK, OK, I'm awake," I said, turning to face her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm scared," she said, squeezing me tight. "You know I don't like thunder and lightning."

As if hearing the cue, the lightening lit the room up again, followed immediately by a massive clap of thunder. Rosie held me tight, as if my body could shield her. She was naked, completely naked, sweating. The room seemed as hot as midday, the cheap hotel having no aircon.

"What if the hotel gets hit? What if we gave to evacuate?" Rosie was now shivering, as if scared witless.

"It's OK. It's just a bad storm. Sometimes it happens here. It will soon pass."

The lightening flashed again, not as brightly. One, two seconds passed before the clap of thunder. "See," I continued, "It's passing."

"Can I stay here until it's gone?" Rosie pleaded. Her breasts felt really hot against me. I had kicked my boxers off earlier, the room was so hot, so humid. We were both naked.

"You can if you wish," I said, "But don't you want to put your nightie back on?"

I turned over to pick up my boxers at the side of the bed. There was only a cotton sheet covering us. The lightning flashed again.

Rosie screamed, "No, no, please Ben, don't let go of me. Hug me, kiss me. I'm scared."

I turned back. She moved her leg over mine as if to cling on - she'd done that many times when we wrestled but then there were always clothes between us. Now I could feel her hairless pussy lips against my leg, obviously shaved because of her minimal bikini. Rosie must have been aware that my cock was solid but she said nothing.

The thunder was much quieter now, the wind having blown the storm clouds over until the next ones came. We hugged, we kissed.

"My," whispered Rosie briefly touching my hardness, "Did I do that?"

"Yes," I answered grumpily. Brother and sister naked just wasn't right, "No-one to blame but yourself."

"Mmmm," Rosie rubbed against me, rested her head against my chest. This was the very first time I'd been naked in bed with any girl, and here I was with my SISTER.

We must have dropped asleep until the next big clap of thunder awoke us again.

"Ben, hold me. I thought the storm was over. I'm scared."

I don't know how it happened, for Rosie was the mistress of making my body be wherever she wanted it so that she could be in full control. Before I knew it Rosie was on top of me. Despite all my attempts during our wrestling I had no thoughts at all of trying to move. Rosie had already read my thoughts.

"Don't move Ben. I'm scared and need something to distract me. I'm really, really sorry if this isn't the right thing to do, but I need it so much and ... " Her voice trailed off as if she just didn't know what to say, then very slowly she moved against me, rubbing herself against my leg.

"Rosie, this just isn't right, I ..."

"Sssh! Don't talk. Yes, it's very right. You're my brother, I know, but I need you more than I ever realised, and just now I'm very scared."

Another flash of lightning but several seconds before the thunder.

"Sssh now, I have to do this, it works for me. Just enjoy me moving against you. I need something to take my mind off the storm." She paused as if trying to decide whether to let me in on a secret. "Ben," she said after a while. "Do you think it's OK for me to masturbate when I feel scared?"

I laughed, "I didn't know girls did such things." Liar.

Rosie laughed too, a full blooded laugh. "Ben, you really are so sweet. I didn't know you were so shy with girls. I really don't want to go back to my bed - the thunder and lighting scares me. Are you OK if I just rub up against you?"

"I don't know. I suppose so. Aren't you embarrassed?"

Rosie laughed again and kissed me. "Ben, I don't think you realise just how grateful I am you took Martin's place. And I don't think you realise just how horny a girl can get when she hasn't got a man."

"OK. You're my sister. I really ought to be looking after you. I hate to see you scared. You can cuddle and do what else you want. Anyway, what you were doing makes me feel good too."

"It does?" she giggled like a naughty schoolgirl, "Hmmm, let's see."

Rosie began the slow, steady movements again. The friction between us had been giving me similar feelings to when I wanked, but the sensation was totally different. Confusing? Yes, I was confused too, but the feeling was good. A few minutes more and the storm outside was moving away while a new storm was building up inside me.

Don't you just love the sound a woman makes when she's building to her peak at her own pace? On that holiday, in that hotel room during the story weather was the first time I'd witnessed it; the purr of pleasure, the indecipherable moans escaping from her mouth intermingled with 'mmmm' and 'yessss'. Rosie was stoking the fire within her while making me sure I was going to fire my cannon. Bit by bit, in no rush whatsoever, Rosie's orgasm was forming within.

"Kiss me, Ben," she said. I dare not refuse her. Her mouth and mine became as one, saliva flowed, teeth clashed together, tongues explored. Letting our lips separate she cried "Mmmm, yessss," again and again. The speed at which her cunt rubbed at my thigh rapidly increased until she let out a long guttural moan, swiftly followed by my own eruption, cum shooting in the space between us, coating both of us with its stickiness.

The following morning, despite some hectic attempt during the night to mop up the stray cum, the evidence was still there, the bed sheet still damp. Sun was streaming through the thin curtain. Outside the sky was wall to wall blue, not even a hint of cloud. The only evidence of the storm could be seen as pool chairs blown over, parasols toppled over and the litter of paper, plastic spa water bottles and other items blown into the pool. One of the staff was busy with a long fishing net, reaching and scooping the debris.

At some point Rosie had deserted me and she was fast asleep in her own bed. Why is it always the man who ends up with the damp patch? Surprisingly she said nothing about the night before, except that she was glad the storm had gone. We read later in the free tourist newspaper of the damage the storm had caused.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," I said as I woke Rosie. I'd already showered and we need to be down for breakfast.

She blinked, rubbed her eyes and sat up, making no attempt to hide her naked breasts. "What time is it?" she asked, immediately looking at the clock and answering her own question, "Oh my god, I'm absolutely starving." Jumping out of bed, naked as the day she was born, Rosie rushed into the bathroom. After pissing noisily and farting like a horse she flushed then started up the shower. Don't women have a piss volume control?

I guess I took my big sister for granted. In the beauty stakes she wouldn't have come away with first prize but most certainly wouldn't have been last. Slim but not looking as though she'd skipped many meals, golden brown short hair, ample but not oversized tits - firm but a little bouncy, hips and butt in the right proportions, long and slender but powerful legs - as I knew from being scissored or pinned down. In 10 minutes flat she was showered, hair dried, dressed and we were on our way to breakfast. The intense rain had penetrated part of the roof and into the restaurant, some tables having been pushed even closer than normal to avoid the sodden ceiling.

The air was already warm, perhaps slightly less so than the previous evening which had been humid and overbearing before the storm. On our short walkabout to clear our heads we noticed that the hypnotist show (the naughtiest in Ibiza, so the poster proclaimed) had been postponed for two nights. 'All tickets will be honoured' the handwritten sign said, 'There are some tickets still left - 10 Euros for the most entertaining evening of your life'.

I didn't want to go as I knew it was all quackery. Everyone knew that people were just acting and the hypnotist was a smart-talking fake. But on the other hand we'd heard that, given an excuse, some alcohol fuelled exhibitionists were more than keen to put on a show. One couple told us the prudes in Ibiza (80+ year old spinsters probably) had tried to shut the bar down, but failed. One of the show's greatest fans was the local mayor - he hardly ever missed a performance.

I was completely outvoted by our group. We bought tickets, and were advised to come early if we wanted good seats. The bar, like most in Ibiza summer season, would be open all day, with a happy hour from 6 till 7pm. The show started at 8 and usually finished well after 10pm.

The unpleasant humidity of the day before gave way to a welcome breeze to cool the Ibizan sun. We collected what we needed for the beach and settled down for some serious sunbathing. Coating Rosie's unblemished skin with factor 30 was, for me, a very pleasant task. Of course my body's predictable reaction was still evident, but this time it was much more a semi. Even so, it had not escaped the notice of two of Rosie's girl friends.

"We're just going to stretch our legs," said Adrian to Yvonne. "Shouldn't be long." He and Andy wandered off along the beach.

"They're going to check out the talent. They do that every holiday, " said Yvonne.

"Why don't you go with them," added Rosie, giving me a wink. "It might educate you."

Good old sis, there to help. She wanted to catch up on gossip. I ran to catch them up. Adrian made out to be quite a connoisseur. While many of the ladies retrieved their tops before taking a dip, some did not; this was Ibiza and I soon found out that over 30's are in the minority.

Not only that but 200 yards further along the beach swimwear was in the minority. Adrian didn't admit it but I twigged he'd researched this 'clothes optional' stretch possibly before the holiday was even booked. Purely in respect for the rest of the people there we did remove ours ... and I reckon the following hour was the most educational hour of my life!

"You enjoyed your long walk, then?" asked Rosie as we returned.

"Sure, it was great," I answered. "And we had a good swim."

Rosie glanced down, "Your swim shorts dried quickly." Couldn't get anything past my sis.

"I guess it must be the warm breeze," I answered. I could see she didn't believe me.

I didn't do the walk again, but the other two did ... followed at a distance by Yvonne.

"It's a nuddy beach," she informed the rest.

The following day, after a one-sided discussion, we spent the day there. The girls were suitably impressed. My contribution to the 'talent' was noted, though I'd been reluctant to strip off at first in front of Rosie's friends. It was one of my better decisions. After that day I was firmly within Rosie's circle of friends.

We skipped going there the day of the hypnotist show, instead spending the day round the hotel pool. OK, the drinks were dearer there but still much cheaper than home.

Although we arrived well in good time for the show, there was a queue. Even so we got good seats, but split up as some seemed reluctant to get seats near the stage in case they got volunteered for the act.

"I'm so excited," confessed Rosie. "I've always wanted to be hypnotised but I don't want to go on alone. Will you go with me?"

"No. As I said it's all hocus-pocus. These guys just make it up and give people the chance to act in some dumb way."

"OK, so now's the chance to prove him wrong. And everyone else who volunteers."

"It's a scam to get 10 euros out of everyone," I protested.

"No it's not. I looked it up on the hotel computer."

"That's an even bigger scam. I've seen people feed euros in that like there's no tomorrow."

"Ah chicken! Either you come with me to prove the hypnotist wrong or you never see me naked again. And that includes the nudist beach. No go, no show."

I'd dug my own hole and, as a stage hand invited people to come forward just as the hypnotist appeared, Rosie held my hand in a brief minute of nervousness as we walked on, standing side by side.

All we had to do was clasp our hands together as Rocky talked and asked the guinea pigs to just concentrate and ...

The next I knew was a snap of fingers and my hands tingling.

"Just sit there, please," said the assistant, pointing to the chair next to where Rosie was sat, also shaking her hands to get rid of the tingling. I remembered what she'd threatened and decided I'd take my place. Many of the other volunteers were walking back to their seats.

I remember Rocky talking and asking us to focus on one of the ceiling spot lights and then nothing much until I woke with my head leaning on Rosie's shoulder. Apart from feeling like I'd slept for a couple of hours, I only remembered odd little things. The assistant pointed me back to my seat and thanked me for volunteering.

"You were well away there," said Adrian. Yvonne agreed.

"Too much sun and too much alcohol," I said, still an unbeliever.

"No, you were way gone. Then suddenly you seemed to wake up," Adrian seemed certain but I wasn't so sure until a big yawn escaped me.

"I guess I just nodded off. Just watch, you'll soon see it's a fix. Anyway I need a pint."

While I was standing for a minute or two at the bar waiting my turn, a lady who seemed slightly younger than me spoke.

"Hi there," she said, "Well done for going forward. It's a pity the hypno didn't quite work with you. I was waiting to see what Rocky had in store for you."

I turned my head to face her, "My sister volunteered me."

"Wow, you came on holiday with your sister? She emphasised the word.

"It's a long story," I explained.

"You were on the beach yesterday, weren't you? On the nudist part."

I felt my face flush. "Er, er, yes. It's the first time ..."

"I never forget a face," she added, looking down at my zipper then laughed. "Hey, you don't have to defend yourself." she looked down again, "You're quite fit."

The old me came through. I was nervous and shy again. She squeezed my butt.

"I'll be there tomorrow with some of my friends. If you can get away from your sister, why don't you join us." She took a final glance at a part of me that obviously interested her, "I'm sure they'd like to see you as well."

Having been served a pint of the cheap local brew I went back to my seat. Two of the willing volunteers were talking to each other, supposedly in some mock Martian conversation. I'd seen that on the telly; all faked. Then Rocky blew up one of those narrow modeling balloons and gave it to one of the ladies.

"When I say the word balloon," Rocky began, his hand on the lady's shoulder, "You'll start to stroke it gently and lovingly."

"And when you, sir," Rocky went on, "See the lady stroking the balloon, you'll immediately feel," he paused, grinning at the audience, "A very pleasant sensation in your," he paused again, "In your, let's say, in your wedding tackle. The more she strokes, the more aroused you feel. The better you feel, the more she will stroke."

Rocky moved over to the lady, reinforced the suggestion, then the man, who unfortunately was wearing quite lightweight shorts.

"Balloon," said Rocky, "Balloon."

Moment by moment, the pleasure on the man's face was becoming more than evident. So was the bulge in his shorts.

"Better and better," said Rocky, his hand on the man's shoulder. "Such a lovely feeling, such an irresistible feeling, it makes you want to ..." Now the lady, coaxing her to stroke the balloon faster and faster, till 'POP', Rocky burst the balloon. I wasn't sure whether the trick worked, but if it didn't then the man was a very good actor.

The show moved on, XXX indeed, gentle touches of his hand on her shoulder or his shoulder, whoever. Let's just say the lasting feeling with one lady was orgasmic.

One by one the volunteers returned to their seats, each one well happy with the experience. There was just one lady left, Rosie.

"You've won tonight's first prize," Rocky told her, Rosie (so she thought) wide awake and waiting for Rocky to begin hypnotising her. She wasn't aware of what had gone on, simply because Rocky had commanded her to forget. "Do you mind if I ask your name?"

"Rosie," she answered, not realising that several of her fellow volunteers had recently forgotten their names. Not Rosie though, Rocky had taken a shine to her. In his correct estimation, Rosie was very susceptible to being hypnotised very deeply.

"And the young man who came on stage with you, what's his name?"

"He's Ben, he's on holiday with me."

"And," Rocky looked around with a broad smile on his face, "I expect he's sharing a hotel room with you?"

"Yes," answered Rosie, not even hinting that I was her brother.

"Good. Well, Rosie, you've been such a sport this evening, I'm going to give you a present and an extra gift that you'll both enjoy. *Click* "Sleep."

Yvonne nudged me. "He thinks you're her boyfriend," she whispered, "You might be in for a real treat."

"Like what?"

"Like you'll find out later. I've seen this guy before."

I made to stand, to get Rosie out of this black magic. Yvonne pulled me back, "Wait Ben, you might just enjoy this. Don't make a fool of yourself. Rosie won't thank you for it. Rocky is an entertainer, that's all. He can't make Rosie do anything she doesn't want to."

I sat down.

"Deeper, deeper down, Rosie. It feels so good to let yourself relax and totally obey me."

The commands continued until Rocky was way deep inside Rosie's subconscious. I wasn't aware until later just how much Rosie was going to be so responsive to Rocky's spell.

Every time Rocky touched Rosie's shoulder, or arm, or leg, she would, he told her, feel very pleasant tickles.

"Where would you like your tickles to be, Rosie?" she hesitated. "You can whisper, you can trust me Rosie."

"Rosie! Really?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, Rosie has been such a great sport that I think I should let her, er, I should let her have her wish. What do you say?"