Birthday Present For My Sister Ch. 01

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This story is related to the series about Fire Island and Sandy with the same first person character. There may be some inconsistencies in details, since those stories were written quite some time ago, before I discovered Literotica. “Our” older sister had a minor role in Fire Island. In this story, although “off stage,” her role is more important. This story will related closely to one about Martha, our family’s Norwegian au paar that year, which must have been 1972 or 1973, since the book “Joy of Sex” is mentioned in the Sandy series. The era should be mentioned to explain some naiveté r
elative to what a teenager today can read and see on internet.

In May of my junior year at Columbia, my younger sister had her eighteenth birthday. I expected that our parents would give her something big – jewelry, a fine watch – even though they were also going to let her go on a trip to Europe as a high school graduation present. I had asked her for hints about what I could give her, but she said that only a big-brotherly hug would be nice.

Well, it would be, for me too; she was well-built, not that one should think about one’s sister that way. Our married older sister had almost too much upstairs. But then two days before her birthday, she called me at Columbia and said that she had an idea, that it wouldn’t cost any money, and explained:

“You’re going to have a summer job in the City and said it wouldn’t start as soon as your exams are over. What about spending a week with me on Fire Island? I already asked the parents if my girlfriend and I could, but they wouldn’t have that. Hadn’t expected them to; just suggested it to soften them up for the idea that you – big brother – chaperone me. They agreed, if I could talk you into it. We’d have to open up the place, spring cleaning, you know. You asked what you could give me for my birthday. You can forget the big-brotherly hug. And I will try to cook for us.”

I wanted to give her something, and really didn’t have anything better to do for the few days before my job started, and if the weather was good, it would be nice to get a little tan and not look like a wan bookkeeper. I agreed, and the parents agreed, with instructions about what all we had to do, and admonishes about what we couldn’t do: let her go on the beach alone “with or without her bikini.” Of course, we understood that they meant in either a one-piece suit or a bikini, but we all grinned at Mother’s choice of words. She promised to plan meals for us and get the food.

That was a couple of days after the big birthday party, a dance. Maybe it wasn’t a big-brotherly hug, but dancing with her was about the same thing, when she whispered in my ear thanks for agreeing to her suggestion for a birthday present. That was nice, and she seemed to think so to, continuing the dance with her breasts against my chest.

The Saturday after my exams, everything was ready: food packed and menus, our gear. Father admonished me to drive carefully and repeated their other instructions. When we were out of the city traffic, she thanked me again for agreeing, telling me that it was one of her nicest birthday presents, was going to be. I must have said that I thought it was a nice idea. Then she was silent for a while.

We drove on. I was thinking about the things we had to do to open up the house after the winter, probably also wash salt spray from the windows, thinking about doing those to the east in the morning with the early sun for my tan, and so on around the house. She is being silent, but then says:

“I’m going to go topless.”

“You’re not!”

“Can’t stop me.”

Drive safely! I pulled over and look at her and said:

“You are not going to go topless.”

“Why not?” She isn’t looking at me.

“You know why.”

“We all are going to on the Cote d’Azur; don’t want to look like a prude American. The others are also going to try to.”

“Try to what?”

“Not have white boobs.”

“And your group’s guide – chaperone – is going to let you?”

“Hm-hmm! If we all do, she can’t do anything. You can’t either. Hm-hmm! Try to put a girl’s top back on.”

That was a ridiculous suggestion, and I had to chuckle, recalling that sometimes it could be difficult enough to get a girl’s bra off, even if she wasn’t objecting. She had me there; better not argue. This was going to be more interesting than I had anticipated. I pulled back on the road, and we drove on in silence, while I wondered how it would be: a week with my half nude sister? And Mother had said that she couldn’t go alone on the beach “with or without her bikini.” Nothing about her going on the deck with only half of it. And I was suppose to supervise her? She had already told me that I couldn’t stop her, and was right!

We managed to talk about what we had to do at the house, agreeing that we didn’t have to do immediately more than the necessary: our rooms, kitchen, check the hot water heater. We didn’t say it, but we were both eager to work on our tans, but after what she had said, that was casino şirketleri going to be ticklish. I usually wore speedos – my gymnastics – but was now glad that I had a pair of boxer trunks.

We got to the house before noon and put the food in the refrigerator, turning it on. I turned on the hot water, and we made our beds, helping each other in hers and then my room. When she asked if there was anything else we really had to do, I knew what she was thinking, and anticipating the worst, that she was going to demonstrate her resolve to go topless. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anything else we had to do. Maybe I didn’t want to.

She didn’t take off the top of her bikini until she was out on the deck, lying down on her towel. Was she blushing? Maybe; her nipples were aroused. Nice pink nipples! Shouldn’t appreciate seeing your sister’s nipples! If I wanted to work on my tan, I had to join her. Boxer trunks were only hopefully a protection. When I was putting them on, my cock was already showing what it thought about the situation. I had seen several girls’ breasts, but that didn’t inure me of seeing my sister’s – or probably any other girl’s – and hers were the ones I was seeing, and they were at least as good – whatever that meant – as the others I had seen. Did she have to sit up and rub suntan lotion on them?! Ursula Andress came to mind.

[I’m writing this many years later and have since then seen nude photos of Ursula. She had delightful breasts, but my sister’s were a little larger, and quite firm, from the way she was rubbing lotion on them. Ursula’s probably also were, but I was seeing my sister’s, and she didn’t have the bit of baby fat she had when she first wore a bikini, before our parents thought she should, discovering that she had bought it by herself.]

I adjusted my cock in my trunks. Sooner or later we were going to be on the deck together. She could only wonder why, if I hesitated any longer. What did she know about boys and their cocks?

At least, she had her eyes closed when I went out. At least, I hoped that she really did, as I gave in to the temptation of looking at her. They were firm, hardly sagging to the side, firmer than those of a couple of girls, who had less. Of course, she noticed, as I lay down my towel. Could she think why I chose to lie on my stomach, lying as near to her as we always had – but not with her bare breasts exposed. At least, lying that way, my face turned away from her, I didn’t have to look at them and could hope my cock would relax.

“See, nothing to it. Oh, I blushed when I took it off, and again when I saw you looking at me, but I expected that the first time, why I didn’t want that to happen in France.”

“You’re really going to, there, all of you?”

“I’m more sure now than I was, at least if a few others do. Want me to put lotion on your back?”

I agreed with nod. She must have been looking at me, since she immediately sat up and turned to do so. We had done that before, so it shouldn’t have been unusual, but it was; I was wondering how her breasts moved as she was rubbing the lotion on my back, then also on the back of my legs. When she lay down on her breasts – stomach – she was going to expect me to do the same. If my cock thought that was arousing – I thought it would – she wouldn’t be able to see it, however,

She lay back down, apparently again on her back, since she didn’t ask me to rub it, put lotion on it. A few moments later she said:

Oh, you can look, should, so that I get accustomed to it. I guess you have seen other girls’; shouldn’t be anything new. … You have, haven’t you?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Oh, that’s good, … not just seen them?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Hm-hmm! Even better.”

Thank goodness that she didn’t ask more; I could imagine what a further question could be: how, not just seen them; how many; what else I had done with the girls? Don’t ask, please!

She didn’t, but she had to be wondering, and my thinking about how I could answer such questions, recalling the girls and their breasts and what we had done, wasn’t conducive to letting my cock relax.

Eventually, she turned over and asked me to rub her back, put lotion on it. I did, also on her thighs, just like I always had – I thought – but she remarked that it felt good and rolled them apart, inviting me to spread the lotion further down on the insides of her thighs. She liked that, too, and my cock also did. Was it going to be like that all day?

I spread lotion on my chest and stomach and legs, and risked lying down on my back. Okay, I could hold my hands over it, just wanting to let the sun tan my fingers. It even relaxed a little, until she remarked:

“You used to wear your speedos, like men do in Europe. Hm-hmm! Even briefer than your speedos. Aren’t they going to be – you know – aroused, if all the women go topless?”

I sure would have been, and replied – biting my lip when I heard what I had said:

“Is that what you want to see?”

“No, just asking. Well, that would be interesting too, of casino firmaları course. We should know, before we do it.”

“You can look before you do; you won’t be the first ones on the beach.”

“Hmm? If they all are, already, seeing us wouldn’t change things, and if they aren’t, it wouldn’t matter if we took off our tops.”

I thought that some guys might find the sight of her more arousing than …, well, that their cocks could think she was more interesting, like mine was now. Did she have to ask!

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Lying on her stomach, she couldn’t see how it was. Was she asking about that, whether my cock was aroused? Would she be so direct? Should I tell her that it did bother me, that my cock was aroused? Now more by her talk than the thought of being able to see her nice firm breasts. Oh, they were bothering me too, now that I thought of them with those adjectives! I had hesitated too long; she repeated:

“Does it?”

“That you are wanting to go topless, which you know you shouldn’t be doing – with me or anyone else.”

“We talked about that and why. And you are just my brother, a safe person to experiment with.”

Yeah, I thought, just keep thinking that, and I will try to, too.

We spent the rest of the day like that, not talking about it. My cock got accustomed to my seeing her naked breasts, most of the time. We took showers before she cooked dinner. Watching her in just a t-shirt and panties was an exception, but I escaped to set the table Mother always insisted that we couldn’t eat in just swim suits, and I also had a shirt on. While we were eating, she said:

“I know the parents said “no alcohol,” but we’ll surely drink wine and beer in Europe, and I will at college. Before I get drunk the first time, and with someone who wants to do more than he should, I think it would be better to experiment with you, know what it’s like.”

I agreed with her logic and – also wanting a beer – agreed to get some the next day. She smiled. Only after she had, did it occur to me that her experimenting with drinking and what could happen with “someone” was not such a good idea in connection with her going topless and almost asking what I had done with girls whose breasts I had seen. Did her nipples pop out when I agreed? Hard to tell, since they were always evident through her t-shirt.

I helped wash up after dinner, and we watched TV until we agreed to go to bed. I didn’t immediately go to sleep, of course, not after having spent most of the day with my half-naked sister.

I was the breakfast cook, so up early, showering and shaving and in the kitchen before she then joined me. Damned! Couldn’t she wear something for breakfast at least? Oh, she had on the bottom of her bikini, but rules about meals, she couldn’t sit at the table with me with her bare breasts. She did, just smiling and saying:

“If I’m going to anyway, and want to get accustomed to it. Her nipples weren’t yet that accustomed to it, but that didn’t make it better. Oh, it did, the view of them! While we ate, I guess they did get accustomed to my glances at them – still looked too attractive. Evan my cock seemed more comfortable with the situation, to my relief. Maybe it would all be all right, just her getting experience with going topless in preparation for what she hoped would happen in France – almost a good idea, an excuse.

We cleaned up in the kitchen and did some of the other things we had to do, agreeing that we could do the others mornings, before it was warm enough to work on our tans. I even managed to enjoy watching her breasts move without getting aroused, maybe good experience for me, should I one day be on a beach with topless girls – girls with tops, bare tops.

Out on the deck, we applied lotion to ourselves and each other. Had she planned that she waited till I had done her back, and then said that I could do her front too? I didn’t, but my cock thought it would have been a good idea, and I did too, to be honest. But I didn’t, and we sunned for a while, propped up on our elbows. I got more at ease about glancing over at her breasts, and they didn’t seem to mind. Hey, just a pair of nice naked breasts that happen to be your sister’s, who wants to let you see them. No big deal, nothing wrong with that. Didn’t brothers see their sisters’ on the Cote d’Azur, and what about all the cultures where women never wore anything above their hips?

I was listing the ones I had heard about: Tahiti, Gauguin’s paintings; Hawaii, back in Captain Cook’s day, Samoa (I had read “Mutiny on the Bounty” and “Coming of Age in Samoa”), Bali, and all those remote people in Brazil who didn’t wear anything at all (not in the pictures in National Geographic). What did they think was erotic?

As I was justifying our situation, she ruined it:

“You must have slept with those girls, at least a couple of them.”

It wasn’t a question; I didn’t have to answer, but I felt my cheeks flush. She didn’t look, thank goodness! But then she did ask, still not looking at me, but her güvenilir casino nipples had popped out:

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“More than one?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that’s good. I thought you must have, three years in college, doesn’t everyone then? And all your muscles from your gymnastics. Girls must be impressed, at least when they see them.”

She had been right about the last, but they had only gotten to see them when we already pretty naked. Oh, a couple had seen me at competitions, a couple more, but I hadn’t slept with them all. And why was it good that I had slept with more that one?

“I haven’t,” she murmured.

I sure hoped that she hadn’t! She didn’t have to tell me that, but she had. Why! Thinking about what? Her nipples had popped out again, or still were; I hadn’t been looking at them all the time. What was she thinking about to make them pop out again, or stay aroused? Not my glances, since they hadn’t the several times I had glanced at them before. I looked at the horizon, like she had been doing since her first remark.

“You have,” she murmured. Her nipples looked even more aroused, if possible.

“When, the first time?” Before I could think of how to reply, she added:

“Was it good? People say it probably isn’t the first time, especially for girls.”

Who were “people?” Well, I had heard that too, and my first time – like most guys – I had come before she did, before I had any idea how a female orgasm could or should be. But I had been lucky, very lucky. [“Fire Island 1960 something”] Was I supposed to tell her about that, tell that it had then been good?! And what about girls’ first times? While I was still pondering, a much too thoughtful expression in this context, out of the corner of my eye I see her look over at me; she really wants me to tell! I turn my head and see her quizzical expression – and that she is blushing. She should be, asking her brother about his sexual experience!

“Was it?” she repeats.

Damn! I wanted to tell her, but should I? I shouldn’t, but if she had asked twice, she would probably ask again; she could be very persistent, like her getting me to spend the week with her – for this discussion?! Forget about the girls, at least, just agree:

“Yeah, I’ve heard that girls’ first time isn’t usually too good.

“And yours?”

I had been right, persistent. Was I also blushing? I took a deep breath and said:

“Yeah, the first time, not so good. Oh, I came, like in about two seconds, but of course, she didn’t.”

“And then? You did it again, better, and she did? When was that, where did it happen?”

“That week I was here with our sister and new brother-in-law.”

“Hmm? Did they know? Oh, you were also then eighteen. Who was she?”

“I hope they didn’t. Oh, they may have suspected something; he …” Didn’t want to tell her about the rubbers! “He grinned when I said that I was going to a party Friday evening.”

“And you did? Your first time? Boys can come that soon?”

This was getting sticky – too many questions – and she was looking at me with wide eyes, no longer blushing. But her nipples were aroused – still or again. When she saw me look at them, she smiled with soft chuckle. I replied:

“They can; no and no.” At least, I could leave out telling about that evening.

“Not your first time? Before that, that week?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Who was she?”

Was I going to tell her that she was several years older, married, that I spent most of the week with her? Just that it was one day and not that she was married:

“An older woman, well, probably thirty, …”

“Oooh! Really!?”

“She saw me body surfing fairly early one morning. Yeah, my muscles did help; she thought I was older, and suggested that we go to her place, and then wanted to sunbathe nude. Was I embarrassed! But we did. Afterwards, of course, I understood why, that she wanted to, but at first I was just trying not to be shocked, just wondering what would happen.”

“And it did, you did, your first time?”

“Um-hmm.”

“But just two seconds, and she didn’t, but obviously wanted to. Nice, that she had more experience. I hope you did it again, and then better.”

“Yeah, we did, and a lot better, for her too.”

“Oh, that’s good! You were lucky.”

“Very!”

She grinned at me, and I grinned back, liking that I had managed to tell about it in just a few words, hoping I had satisfied her curiosity. I was also pleased that my cock hadn’t moved, even though I glanced at her breasts again. This time I saw that her nipples did pop out, but she just smiled and said:

“Yeah, go ahead and look, feels good – so that maybe they won’t in France.”

“Guys will look, probably more at yours than at other girls’.”

“Hmm! More reason to try to get accustom to letting them.”

We both chuckled, smirking slightly. It was beginning to be fun to able to talk about them, to admit that we could talk a little about sex. She liked it too, smiling and remarking:

“Look again, before I turn over.”

I did, and then we lay on our stomachs, our faces towards each other, not speaking for a couple of minutes, just enjoying the sun. My eyelids were half-closed. Then she murmured:

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