My Asian Sister Ch. 01

I did suggest to mom that I stay with Cindy and her fiancée.

Mom just looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I mean, I'd met Cindy's fiancée. We all had. She'd brought Larry home and I'd been really surprised. Larry Zhao was American-Chinese, and he seemed like a really nice guy. A lot older than Cindy, fifteen years older, and he had his own company or something, listed on the Exchange and at a guess, he was making a few gazillions. He was the sort of wealthy and successful American-Chinese guy our parents wanted for us girls. Definitely not the sort of guy that Cindy had ever dated before, and it was so weird. I did look at him the first time we met, and the first thing I thought was, Cindy must miss those Big White Cocks.

I didn't say that, but I thought it, and Cindy must have read my look, because she grinned. It wasn't a smile, it was a grin, and I knew my jie-jie, my older sister, and I knew that grin. Cindy might have been engaged to Larry Zhao, but somehow I didn't think she was missing her Big White Cocks at all.

"Absolutely not," Mom said, flatly, and when she said it like that, I knew that was that. I was going to be staying with Leo.

I'd just have to make sure my panties were somewhere safe.

That last weekend Leo had come back home, just after my eighteenth birthday, which he'd missed, he'd brought me a birthday present. A box of assorted lingerie. Really nice lingerie, the sort of lingerie I'd wear for dates with a boyfriend whom I wanted to see me inside that lingerie, but...how did he know my bra size? No, I wasn't even going to think about that.

Despite that, on that last weekend Leo had been back home, I'd forgotten to take precautions. He'd been away for a while, and I'd forgotten. That was what I told myself.

Afterwards.

"Hey, answer the door, Leo," I called when I heard the doorbell ring. "It's my date."

"Hope you're dating White guys now, Shan." Leo looked in through the bathroom door, watching me finish up my makeup. "I hope you're wearing my birthday present for him too."

He reached out to flip my skirt up and look.

"Pervert," I said, smacking his hand away. "You'll never know, but he's not a White guy. It's disgusting for Chinese girls to date White guys. They totally objectify us, and it's so demeaning."

"Some asian guy with a little dick tonight?" Leo said.

"Paul's dick is great," I said, smiling, because it was.

So was Herman Wong's dick, and Steve Chang's, and Jason Auyeung's. I'd played with all of them. Tonight I was definitely going to play with Paul's, just to spite Leo. I mean, I would have anyway, but I was going to invite Paul in after we got back from that movie, and I was going to make out in the family room with him, just to show Leo.

"It's not little either," I added, smiling, because it wasn't, and I was looking forward to making out with him after the movie.

"How would you know if you've never dated a White guy,' Leo said, grinning.

"Leo, that's just disgusting! I'd never do anything with a White guy," I said. "Now will you answer the door for me? Please? I only need a minute to finish up here."

"Okay okay okay, I'll go let little dick in," Leo said. "Don't waste my birthday present on him though, okay?"

"Too late," I said, giggling, and I lifted the hem of my skirt, flashing him a glimpse of the black G-string panties he'd bought me for my birthday, along with some other lingerie.

He looked, the pervert.

Well, he'd seen me in my underwear before. He was my big brother, and we shared the same bathroom. He just hadn't seen me in G-string panties before.

"And Leo," I added. "You shouldn't perv over your mei-mei's panties." I smiled. "It's sooooo disgusting."

Sometimes it was fun teasing Leo.

"Hi, you must be Leo. I'm Paul, Shan's boyfriend. You were in the same year as my older sister, Tiffany, at high school." I heard Paul's voice at the front door as I finished touching up my lip gloss.

"Come on in, Paul. I remember you," Leo said as I darted down the stairs. "Shan'll be ready soon."

"Hi Paul," I said happily, flying into his arms and giving him a huge hug and a quick kiss. "Let's go, or we'll be late."

"Where're you going?" Leo asked.

"Movies," I said, tugging at Paul's hand, getting him out the door before Leo could make noises about coming with us. He used to do things like that when I was younger, and I hated it.

"See you in the morning," I called as I almost ran down the driveway, dragging Paul behind me.

"What's the rush?" he asked, opening the car door for me.

"He'd want to come with us," I said. "Hurry, I don't want him asking...shit! He is...hurry up, Paul."

Paul took one look, closed my door, and hurried. Leo was halfway down the driveway as Paul put her into gear and pulled away. I waved, ignoring my mobile when it sang to me.

"Really, he'd want to come with us?" Paul asked.

"Well, he's not," I said, reaching over and resting my hand on his leg. "This is a date, not a family outing."

Paul laughed.

The movie was great. I loved chick flicks. I loved it that he'd taken me to one when I knew he hated them and he'd really rather watch an action movie. I wouldn't have minded if we had, I quite liked action movies too, but he'd taken me to a chick flick because he knew I loved them, and I'd cuddled up next to him right away when we were in our seats. Guys deserve their rewards for thoughtfulness, and Paul was going to get his.

Actually, I rather liked Paul, he checked all my boxes. He was American-Chinese, he wasn't bad looking at all, he was in my grade at high school, and we'd been dating for a few weeks now, just him and me. I hadn't dated anyone else for a while now. I'd dated Paul before a few times, off and on, in between the other guys, but he'd got in first and asked me to the prom. He was going to a university on the east coast, and he knew I was going to Berkeley, so I didn't need to worry about him getting too serious either, which was nice.

I liked making out with him but I wasn't serious about him at all. That, and he wasn't all grabby, and he was Chinese, like me.

Yeah, he checked all my boxes.

"Come inside," I'd said, when we were parked outside our house. I'd actually forgotten all about Leo being home, and mom and dad were out. I smiled. "It's a lot more comfortable than your back seat."

Paul had an old Honda Civic, a riceboy one that his older brother had given him. He hated the riceboy mods, but it'd been free. The back seat was way too small though. I mean, in an emergency, with nowhere else to go, it was okay, but inside our house was much more comfortable, and after Cindy moved out, I'd even sterilized the couch. I'd steam-cleaned the carpets and rugs too. And everything else Cindy might've been on. No California potato chips for me, thanks.

Outside our front door, I stopped and melted into Paul's arms, smiling up at him, lips slightly parted, eager, a little breathless, eyes sparkling, the way you do when you want a guy to kiss you. Paul took the hint, he smiled, his lips brushed mine, his arms folded me in against him, and he did. He kissed me, long and very very thoroughly.

"Let's go inside," I'd said, rather more breathlessly than I had in the car, easing myself away, turning and unlocking the front door and leading him inside. Leading him to that couch in the family room, which was where we always made out when my parents weren't around. I never took any of them into my bedroom. I didn't want to give them ideas, and that couch was really comfortable for two.

It was really comfortable that night, too, and I'd dated Paul quite a few times off and on by then. We'd made out together too, more and more, and he knew what I was comfortable with. He'd never tried to go further than that, and I liked that, because it meant I didn't have to think about stopping him if he tried to go too far, because he never did try to go too far. Some of the guys did, and I just didn't date them again, so by then, it was down to Paul, who was my age, you know, eighteen, and at high school with me, and two or three other guys, Chinese-American guys of course, who I knew who were older than me by a year or two.

Five minutes after we were inside, Paul and I were on that couch together, his arms around me, and he was kissing me slowly, and very very gently. One of those long slow kisses that go on and on, his lips sealed to mine, my mouth accepting his tongue sliding and teasing mine, his body pressed hard against mine, that familiar hardness pressed deliciously against me where I was already hot and wet and sensitive, and we had all the time in the world.

My parents were out until late, over at some friends of theirs, and in Paul's arms, my excitement was slowly building as I squirmed a little against him, moving my body against his, my boobs pressing against his chest, one of my legs lifting, curling over his as I half-turned towards him, inviting him to make that next move, under my top, up my back, unhooking my bra.

.

"Mmmmm," I'd hummed encouragingly as his hand slid under my top, warm on my skin, slid up my back, and unhooked my bra. He knew how to do that now, the first time he'd tried he couldn't do it and I'd had to do it for him. That was a while ago now though, I'd shown him how, and he'd had lots of practice. We both enjoyed practice.

Tonight I twisted and eased my bra out from under my top right away, first one arm, and then the other while he watched. He liked watching me, I knew, and I enjoyed him watching me. I enjoyed all my dates watching me, and sometimes I thought it'd be really exciting to make out with one of the guys I dated while another of those guys watched us. I liked to think about that at night, with my eyes closed, in my own bed, teasing myself, even though it wasn't the sort of thing a good Chinese girl should think about.

Sometimes I even thought about White guys doing those things to me, the way they did to Cindy, but those thoughts were for the darkness of the middle of the night, when I was allowed to think forbidden thoughts. Shameful thoughts. Thoughts about things I knew I would never do.

Tonight wasn't for thinking though.

Tonight was for Paul, and Paul was American-Chinese. There was nothing shameful about dating Paul, or making out with him, and I liked his hands on me a lot more than my own, because I never knew exactly what he would do. His hands were rougher, more demanding, they took, they didn't caress gently all the time, and they didn't know my body the way I did, but I liked what they did more, because I never knew exactly what they'd do until they did it, and when they did it, it was always exciting.

That night, I didn't know what I was going to either, but I liked the way he looked at me, and in a few weeks time, I'd be moving down to San Francisco to live in our old house, the one that Leo was living in, and Paul would be heading off to the East Coast university he was going to. I wanted to do something special for Paul tonight, something daring, something that would excite him, and that thought was exhilarating.

His hand slid up under my top to cup one boob, his fingers sliding smoothly across my skin, sending little shivers of excitement through me as he brushed my nipple.

"Paul," I'd murmured. "Have you ever been to a strip club?"

"Uh...no," he'd said, brushing that nipple again. He grinned. "Have you?"

I'd smiled. "No, but would you like your own strip tease tonight?"

He'd seen me in nothing but my panties a dozen times now, maybe a few more. He'd seen me in my bikinis too. I wasn't shy with Paul, not now. I had been that first time. Actually, the first couple of times, but now I liked him looking at me, and I was wearing one of those pairs of panties Leo had bought me for my birthday. I still thought Leo was a pervert, but I was wearing them anyway. The first G-string panties I'd ever owned, and my older brother had bought them for me.

Black. Lacey. Tiny. Sexy.

The sort of panties I wore in those daydreams.

The sort of panties a girl who was a White Cock Slut like my jie-jie wore.

The sort of panties I was wearing for my date.

"Sure," he'd said, smiling.

"Come with me," I'd said, sitting up, sliding off the couch, taking his hands in mine and holding them as he stood.

"Sit here, in the armchair," I'd said, dimming the light even further, angling it to shine on me and on Paul, turning and searching for the right music as he seated himself.

Def Leppard. Pour Some Sugar On Me.

The music started, and so did I. I'd always enjoyed my dance classes, and I'd taken those pole dancing classes without mentioning that to mom and dad. Tonight, now, I was dancing for Paul, dancing to excite him, and to excite myself, and I danced around him, next to that armchair, in front of him, leaning over him, backing away, running my hands over my body, teasing him, enjoying his hands reaching for me, brushing me as I danced close to him.

"You're not allowed to touch strippers," I'd murmured, smiling as one of his hands ran up my thigh all the way to my hips, sliding up under my skirt. I'd worn a loose skirt so his hands could slide up under it easily. His hand rested on me as I danced there.

"But you're my personal stripper, Shan," he'd said, smiling, his hand sliding around to my butt, gently cupping me, sliding across my skin as I twisted away from him.

"Mmmmmm, I am tonight," I murmured. "Maybe you'd like to help me unbutton my top."

I leaned in over him, my hands on the arms of the chair, my boobs in front of his face, unrestrained, my nipples swollen and aching. Aching even more as his hands worked their way down those buttons one by one until my top fell open and his hands cupped both my boobs. I liked it that my boobs were firm. They were big, I knew. Bigger than Cindy's. As big as most of the White girls at high school but not soft and floppy like theirs.

My boobs were firm, and they quivered, they didn't flop and bounce, and they weren't soft. I'd heard a couple of the White girls whisper that I had silicone implants, that my boobs couldn't be natural, but I'd just laughed. They were wrong, they were completely natural, and I liked it that guys loved them. I liked it that they looked. I even liked White guys looking.

Paul was more than looking.

I leaned into him, my weight pushing my boobs into his hands as I shrugged my shirt off completely and dropped it on the floor before I eased myself up, dancing again, looking down at him, smiling as I twisted and turned, my back to him now, enjoying his hands on my hips. Enjoying his eyes on me as his hands slid under my skirt and up to my hips on either side.

Enjoying those other eyes on me...huh? What! I almost screamed! Other eyes?

My heart thumped, jolting me. It was Leo. Leo was watching me from the darkness, watching me through the serving hatch from the kitchen, and I was facing him. I could see him where Paul couldn't, with where he was sitting and the single light, dim as it was, shining onto me and him.

Leo? Leo could see everything, and he could see me dancing, topless, for Paul. He could see me naked, from the waist up. He could see my boobs as I ran my hands over them for Paul.

Behind me, Paul's hands unfastened my skirt and brushed it down over my hips to fall loosely to my feet. Behind me, Paul saw me, naked but for the strings of that G-string. Looking at me from the kitchen, I knew Leo could see me, all of me, naked but for that little black triangle covering my sex.

Naked but for the little black G-string panties that he'd bought me for my birthday.

My heart thumped hard as I watched him, watching me. His eyes met mine, and he knew I'd seen him. He knew, and I didn't stop dancing, but my mind was whirling. Leo, my brother. Pervert. But it was exciting. Someone else was watching me, and I knew Leo wouldn't do anything except watch. One of the other guys I dated would want to join in, but Leo wouldn't do a thing. He was my brother, but he was watching me. Watching me the way he used to watch Cindy, and yeah, I knew he'd watched Cindy.

Now he was watching me as I danced for Paul.

It was disgusting that he was watching.

It was so exciting that he looked.

I didn't want Paul to see him.

I knew Leo was a perv.

But it was exciting.

The beanbags. My dad had some old bean bags piled in the corner.

"Stay here," I said to Paul, rushing to the corner, pulling the biggest bean bag across the room, positioning it, positioning the light to shine down on it, taking Paul's hands.

"Come and lie down," I said, guiding him, so that the back of his head was towards the kitchen as he half lay, half sat there, looking up at me, smiling as I stood almost over him. Almost naked, and my heart skipped a beat as I thought about...I'd never, for anyone, but my pervert brother was watching. I'd show him! I'd teach him not to watch his mei-mei. I smiled, and this time my smile was for Leo, even though Paul thought it was for him.

"You're so hot, Shan," Paul said, watching me, smiling.

Leo wasn't smiling. He was watching too though. He'd moved, he was looking through the partly open doorway now, and I knew he could see me. He could see all of me in nothing but those tiny black G-string panties as I knelt over Paul and slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"Don't move," I said, but he did, helping me work it up and off him, lying back, smiling.

I leaned forward, over him, offering Paul's mouth my boobs, shivering as he sucked on one of my nipples, his hands on me, sliding over my skin, caressing me, feeding those flames of excitement inside me that were burning higher. I offered Paul my other boob, enjoying his mouth and his hands on me, and now, finally, I looked directly at Leo, my eyes meeting his as he watched me while Paul suckled on one nipple.

My brother was watching me.

That was so disgusting. So perverted. Why? Why was he watching me? I knew he used to watch Cindy, and they'd been sharing that old house in San Francisco before she moved in with Larry. I knew Cindy knew Leo watched her, she'd laughed about it and called him a disgusting brother, but she never stopped him watching her either.

Now my brother was watching me.

It was so disgusting and shameful, but somehow, with his eyes on me, I wasn't embarrassed at all. I was angry with him. Angry, but also...excited?

In the back of my mind, there were those midnight fantasies about being watched. I was with Paul, and Leo was watching. My eyes held Leo's as Paul suckled on my other nipple, drawing it into his mouth, his tongue circling, drawing up my excitement from inside me and spreading it through my body until my skin tingled and flushed with heat, until my lips parted, my mouth opened, and I moaned softly.

Moaned with excitement as one of Leo's hands moved to the front of his pajamas and rubbed what I knew was his erection.

That was so disgusting and perverted.

"I'd like to see your cock," I gasped, loudly enough for Leo to hear.

I eased my boob away from Paul's mouth and smiled down at him, easing myself down until I could unbuckle his belt, unfasten his jeans, and tug them down. I'd removed his jeans before, and now he lay there, watching me, helping me a little, smiling as he lifted himself. Smiling as I freed his feet and pushed his jeans aside.

Opposite me, in the darkness, Leo freed his erection and held it in his hand for me to see.

Paul's smile grew as my hands found his boxers and worked them down, exposing his cock, erect and hard. His boxers removed, he lay there before me, naked. I held it in one hand and my mouth flooded with saliva as I finally did what I'd thought about doing with a guy in the darkness of those midnight dreams and fantasies. I leaned forward a little and, very delicately, I kissed the tip of his cock.