Like a Mirage Ch. 01

Like a mirage, the strap appeared and then disappeared. Aqua blue vanishing into black tightness, or the pitch-colored pants covering white tightness. Step, bounce; step, bounce; step, bounce--one hertz of my sister's thong. Involuntarily, I found myself getting the greatest erection of my life.

I ogled my sister's ass meditatively: Surely, she knew the effect those tight pants would have on me, even if she did not know her thong was showing--no it was not really showing--just peeking out now and again. Teasing me! Frustrating me! Blue-balling me!

My sister was a blonde, but she was also a genius. I, on the other hand, was completely filled with testosterone. Just your typical nineteen-year-old male, I suppose. All except for one thing: I was a virgin. In other words, every morning I woke up with a tent-pole; every night I thought my balls would burst with sperm.

My first day on college campus I saw one. My second two. My third three. Three--and those were just the obvious ones, those that peaked out. Counting the lines--I never believed thongs were meant to hide pantylines--there were at least quadruple.

Pretty soon, I was seeing ones just hanging out, fully three or four inches above the top line of the pants, as a girl walked by, or even stood next to me, and if that was not enough to blue-ball an introverted virgin I soon saw the whole length of thongs. Well, I don't want to exaggerate--maybe not the whole length but at least that portion which was not encased in glorious hot-girl buttocks.

Sunny days--I used to hate them because I am red-haired and easily sunburn, but now they were giving me one of Superman's most vaunted powers: X-ray vision. Many girls wore skirts that were white and see-through. Ditto for pants, but there it did not stop with the color white. Some hot girls wore those mesh black pants with holes in them. I wasn't even seeing through material anymore. The clothing was conveniently pre-holed for perverts' boring-eyes.

As much as I like transparent clothing, the real pleasure came from seeing the hidden thongs. I would watch a girl as she sat down or got up; I could not help it. Like a druggie, I needed my fix. My eyes were drawn like magnets. Most times I would not see anything, but many times I would be rewarded. You never could tell who would show. Sometimes it was the whore; other times it was the shy, geeky girl--the one who wore glasses.

It seemed that every hot girl was wearing them. Not only the students but also the TA's. I mean teacher's assistants, of course, but I suppose you could consider it a pun too. I was surprised once when a girl sitting in front of me sneezed and her thong popped out. She was using crutches; I held the door open for her. Isn't funny how hot girls bring out the manners in men?

Another time, I rose just as two girls in front of me were rising and saw that they were both wearing thongs--satiny and black--both of them, and they were friends. I wouldn't be surprised if they had bought them together. Not even if the same inspector had approved them both.

Once I saw two really geeky looking guys and a super-hot chick working the Campus Crusade for Christ table. Of course, the girl bent over to pick something up--in front of the table--while I was walking by--and I saw her Victoria's Secret thong--three inches of vertical strap.

It was not just what the women wore, but also what they did not: bras and some cases, even panties. It was not just the panties, but also what the women said. Women are always talking. Sometimes it's annoying; other times it is titillating. One girl who was sitting next to me told everyone how she slept naked every night, always had.

On the bus back, there were two hot Asian girls sitting in front of me. As if that was not enough for me to develop an Asian-fetish, one of them bent over and showed a white g-string as her phone was ringing Chopsticks.

The build-up to finals had been rather hectic. When I came home for break, I expected a quiet period. Needless to say, I was caught off guard, when I saw my sister wearing a thong, a g-string.

I fought it, but it was like someone had spiked my drink with Viagra, Cialis, and whatever that third drug is. I tried to think of other things, but I could not. All I could think about was--well, being my sister's thong, and that was the most polite of my fantasies.

Of course, we were not the wonder twins, my sister and I. I could not simply turn into a thong, or a pair of tight pants, or a matching bra, or, perhaps, most ingeniously, a dildo or vibrator. I could, however, sneak into her room when she went out for the night, find her disregarded pants, reach into them and sniff her thong and maybe lick it a little.

That was not what I did though, at least not immediately. I had a certain level of pride and control, as well as respect for my sister and her property. Doing what I was thinking of doing would be wrong. Besides there was a moral question at stake: what if she caught me?

All I could think about was my sister's bouncing ass. I had never seen it, not naked anyway, at least not recently, not since it developed, yet I felt I could easily picture it because of the black pants--so round and so tight, jiggling and bouncing.

Left, right, left--I saw her walking in front of me again, the light blue thong strings popping out like a pedometer. Now my reservations dissolved; I felt morally obligated. It was either that or come in my pants, next time my sister walked by. Not that I was exactly against the idea, but, again, she might notice, and somehow I felt that it would be impolite

I went to my room. I undid my belt. It jingled, and, because I was wary of my sister, I turned on the radio to provide some white noise. As luck would have the first song was I want to make you sweat. I did not need to boot up my computer for porn, or use even any magazines. The image of my sister was still in my mind.

I came quickly. The height of my pleasure, even surprised me. My orgasm was so intense that the Times ended up escaping. (Next time! I thought.)

I came on the wall. Fortunately, the paint was somewhat dark. I would hate to think what would have happened to wallpaper. The whole thing was something of a precedent for me, and, I had masturbated hundreds of times before. Well, at least in that spot.

In a little while, she went out for the night. I had fought with myself a long time. I decided I needed a reward, something suitably perverted. Sweet for the sweet-tooth, you know.

I could barely control myself, but I waited a couple of minutes. It seemed like hours--days--weeks--but I waited. It would have been awkward, if she saw the lights suddenly go on in her room, once she had stepped out the door. Maybe she would not notice or just think she had forgotten to turn them off, but, then again, maybe she would come back and find me rummaging through her panty-draw.

Perhaps, I would be inspired and be able to think of some plausible excuse.

I turned the knob fatefully. When I turned on the lights, I felt I was crossing the Rubicon. The die is cast! I am a perv for my sister!

My heart raced as searched the room. I was looking for something sexual, anything--a thong, a vibrator, a dildo--something that I could put in my mouth. I know it sounds gay, but I thought the dildo would be the easiest to find.

Boy, was I wrong! My sister had many accoutrements! There was shampoo, conditioner, hairspray, deodorant, and many I could not name.

Of course, my sister was very smart. There were also advanced books on biochemistry, physics, and biology; perhaps, I could ask my sister to tutor me--in biology, especially--although I suppose that there would be some biochemistry involved in the wetness of the vagina and the production of sperm, and so on. Though I got an A in all those classes, maybe I could pick one and alter it so that it appeared to be an F.

I had a similar thought when I saw a mat for Pilates; perhaps, she would volunteer to teach me exercising in the nude. And if she did not already use that method, one could always propose it in a totally unassuming and accidental sort of way.

One of my first discoveries was also the most mind blowing: a bottle of hair removal gel. Well, they say dynamite comes in small packages! This was like a bottle of nitroglycerin--so my sister was bald after all! Even with her long hair!

It took me a while to find the right draw and the right items, but, when I did, it was well worth all the efforts.

there were panties of every color. Beautiful, glorious, pleasant-smelling sister panties! Some were even rainbow colored. A couple were stitched with seemingly incongruous cartoon themes. She had a ton of sexy satin and lace bras and thongs and g-strings and bikinis

One pair had tie-sides. I bit them gently, but did not untie them because I was too fearful of leaving a sign of my presence, something that would betray me to my clever sister. Perhaps, this is what started me on the oral fetish.

I could not believe the size of a certain red, micro-thong: it was very easy to stuff the whole thing in my mouth. Yes, I could not transform into a thong, but I still could do the next best thing. I licked the crotches of the others, also where I thought her bush would be, if she had one--theoretically she might have just used the hair removal gel on her legs.

I hoped she would not notice if her panties were a little wet. Hell, she was probably wet there anyway!

The cotton ones, the satin ones, and the silk ones--it was not long before I licked them all, and then I suddenly found myself wishing that my sister wore tights or leotards. Better yet--that it was summer and there was a bikini handy and also that we had a swimming pool were I could watch her wearing it. Not to mention the fact that I could also fraternally get her a Popsicle.

As I looked through more, I found a little diary, I opened it up to yesterday's date:

"Ass string broke in class. Need to find more durable material, perhaps bra straps. Could get some jewls for back part."

As I read I was realizing that some of these thongs she made herself. Did she do this so mom wouldn't see her wearing thongs? I only saw her wearing that blue thong today. Maybe, I would even see it peeking out of her pants--just a millimeter or two of skin under the horizontal band would do for me. Sure, I would prefer to see her totally naked and masturbating, but the important thing was the clue to unbounded sexuality--the thong.

Sister-voyeurism is a much more difficult art than it is made out to be. I could not simply look in a keyhole or through a crack in a door, and I am sure that my sister would notice if I opened her door, when she was masturbating. Similarly, I could not just pretend to mistakenly walk into the bathroom while she was showering, nor did she undress with the blinds open.

I looked curiously at her mirror. It was wide and tall--perhaps I could smash a hole through the wall and make it a two-way. I scratched my chin meditatively. Of course, there were difficulties: two rows of lathes, all that plaster, and sooner or later one of us would move out. Perhaps, our parents would remodel and discover my secret. No--I would have to continue to get my kicks out of her panty draw!

I was looking for possible places to drill holes when suddenly I heard the door open. It was the big oak door in front, not the door to the room, but still it set my heart racing.

I quickly turned off the lights and carefully shut the door. There was no bathroom in that hallway: just my sister's room and my own room. It would not do to return to my own room. To displace the emphasis of the sound, I set off trotting down the stairs.

My heart nearly skipped a beat--it was my sister coming up. My implacable, super-intelligent sister--the one with a photographic memory.

"Hell-o." I said squeakily.

"Hi." she said, "Have a nice night?"

"Yes." I said truthfully. "You?"

"Not yet."

At the turning, I snuck a glimpse of her ass. The blue thong was there, just tiny millimeters of it, but it stood out as though it were neon. My sister rounded the top, and I wisely looked away. She seemed to slow for a fraction of a second, but that was probably just a figment of my imagination.

I got to the first floor just in time to pick up the phone on the first ring. Naturally, it was for my sister. I got the particulars and then placed the phone gently on the side table. Taking a few steps I thrust my hand into my pants, clutched my cock, and yelled my sister's name--there was an extension in her room.

I walked back to the phone and put it up to my ear, just in time to hear her soft voice over the line. For a moment, I considered listening and masturbating--her friend was also a girl, sounded hot too--but again there was the moral problem--she might catch me.

I forgot if she had a wireless or not. I knew she had a cell-phone but that was a different number. Perhaps, she would not even need to see me. I suppose just the increased masculine breathing would be enough. Perhaps, I would even lose it and say her name. Yes, it was too risky; I hung up.

I sat down and grabbed the remote. Maybe, there was something on Skinemax--ha--maybe--what am I saying?--of course there was. There was that slight delay, the black screen, and then I saw a faux three-way.

When I was 12, I would have stayed up to five in the morning watching seven hours of this crap--burning out my eyes. But now it was sort of laughable: the music; the giant, well-lit space between the crotches of the actors; the wooden expressions.

The funniest thing of all was when the girls gave pretend-head. I am pretty sure not even Ron Jeremy has a twenty inch penis. I mean--ha, ha--I once had a girl sitting in front of me lean back and yawn so that her golden hair fell on my lap. I wasn't even slouching.

Sure, that lecture hall was a hundred years old, had doorways made of American chestnut--now practically extinct--for a hundred years--and probably violated modern fire codes, but still, I bet her mouth was a lot closer to my penis than what was happening in the teleplay I was witnessing.

The worst of all was the plots. Most of the times, it was not even worth waiting for the naked girls. I am sure when the scene was over I would flip the channel. It was just not worth it, especially considering the choppy camera work.

Maybe, if they picked angles better and did not cut so much... still, one of the girls kind of looked like my sister. I decided to risk taking it out.

Suddenly, I heard my sister racing down the stairs. I was just starting to get off but quickly attempted to change channels. It is sort of hard when you are caught off guard. You know, with your dick in your hand.

First, I decided to put my penis away. Once I accomplished that fete, I groped between the cushions and then tried to correctly line the infrared signal up to the box. At first, the remote was facing the wrong way--I hoped she did not hear any of the moans. Then I flipped it around and clicked through a couple of channels just to disable the "last" feature.

My sister walked into the room quickly, her face enigmatic. When she came near the couch she tripped on the coffee table and fell on top of me. Her hand pressed against my shoulder, her face stopped just two inches away from mine. I still had an erection; It was even harder now. In the confusion, I was not sure if she felt it.

"That was close!" she said bemusedly.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

In answer, she leaned closer and kissed my forehead, then my mouth. I was shocked beyond belief, but when I felt her tongue on my teeth, I opened up. Our tongues danced, and we exchanged saliva for fully two minutes. It was a joke I knew--an elaborate one-- but I didn't care. To heck with decorum! I put my hand on her ass, both my hands. I even snapped her thong.

She pulled her face back a little, smiled and laughed wickedly, before flipping around, grabbing the couch, and rubbing her cheeks against my crotch--three times. I was about to come, but before I could, she slid tight to my side, then put her arm around me and laughed again. Suddenly, she looked into my eyes and pinched my cheek--the one on my face. Afterward, she tousled my hair affectionately and pulled my head against hers.

We sat like that for five minutes, but it seemed like an hour. Yes, she loved me. It was evident even to my reticent, introverted mind. Even if what she did earlier was a joke, I did not have any hard feelings--well--maybe one--between my legs. Then she flicked my earlobe playfully and brought her mouth to my ear. She stuck her tongue in it and then pulled slightly away.

"Did you notice my thong?" she asked

She tugged the side string out of her pants, and suddenly my heart stopped dead. The color was bright red--not light blue. It was the tiny one I had bunched into my mouth! It was the one I had...

I turned red--a shade between my hair and the thong.

"Little Brother!"

She grabbed my head. Then she stuck her tongue back into my ear, licked it thoroughly and even nibbled on my earlobe. She breathed sibilantly, then whispered.

"I noticed the microfiber was torn in spots, and I had never worn it before--never even laundered it. Of course, that was after I noticed my underwear draw was open."

She hissed again and then sat on my lap, this time putting hands on my shoulders. Going up and down--rubbing my cock with her tight black pants. Of course, they were tight because of her ass! She was rubbing her ass against my cock! She was dry humping me, technically!

I wanted to pull her pants down, draw her thong to the side, and fuck her doggy-style!

She moved her hands out to my sides and bent slightly forward, continuing the up and down motion. My cock buried itself into her pants. I gasped. My sister's thong rode up ever so slightly, then disappeared again. I gasped once more.

She turned around and straddled me, put up her arms, and then peeled off her belly shirt. Her skin was milky white--the sort that looked like it could be burnt by a full moon on a New England winter's night--my skin, except she had a few moles and while I had tons of freckles, she had none. There was the subtle curve of her rib-line, the even more gentle lines of her abdominals, her small but amazing breasts--I recognized the bra. It was one of the cartoony ones--one of those I had licked.

I reached for the back snap but was confused. I reached for the front but was thwarted again. Finally, I pulled the shoulder straps to the side and was able to tug the bra far enough down to fully see her pink nipples. I licked them and sucked them, while she breathed into my hair.

Next she pulled off my shirt, and ran her hands on my chest. As exciting as that was, I nearly died when she unbuttoned her pants, and I saw the small bow on the front of her thong.

God, her hands moved fast! Before I knew it, my belt was unbuckled! My own zipper was down! She pulled my pants down too! Her hand reached into the fly of my boxers! She grasped it!

My God! I suddenly remembered she was on the pill! My highest fantasies were going to be realized. She was going to fuck me, or I was going to fuck her. But which?

My brain was in a flutter. Was this a dream? An open draw-- some slightly disarranged panties--a quick look on the stairs? That had given me away--all in ten minutes? My sister was smart. She was the valedictorian in the year above me in high school. She had a 3.9 GPA at a nearby ivy-league, but still... even a genius could not put it together that fast. I had gotten a 1300 on the SAT. Sure, it wasn't my sister's vaunted 1600--she had discovered two mistakes on the test--but I still had a brain that wondered sometimes. I had to know.

"H-h-how?" I shuddered, for she had just put her mouth on my cock, right after my tongue declined the "H."