My Sexy Sister Amanda Ch. 02

Part One: The Famous Couch

I'd had sex before, but I recall that it was unmoving. The girl's name was Sarah, she was pretty although now I can't remember what she looked like. My mind has been diluted by the fantasies it creates, which all involve my sister. I should have always been worried about how much power her form had over me, and how much I let it haunt me, but I had figured that someday I'd get over her. The only downside to the events that had happened the preceding night was that now there was no way I'd ever get over her. She had complete control over me now; she sanctioned each breath that I took. Her attention was exhilarating, and kept me on the edge. I wanted to excite her, so that I wasn't the only one enduring this constant state of electricity. I wanted so very badly to glance over at her, to find her already staring at me, and to blush because she was as nervous about my impressions as I was about hers.

It was the night of the following day, and my father was at the table with Amanda and I for dinner, although he wasn't eating. I felt angry around my dad for some reason. I didn't show it so you never would have been able to tell, but I wanted for him to leave the house so that I could be alone with my loving sister. It made me sad that I felt this way, he did nothing wrong and if anything, I was the one wronging him. I knew this, if I were a father, I'd be furious beyond comprehension to find out that my son and younger daughter had began to fall for one another romantically. Nonetheless, his presence was the barrier between my sister and I being able to be open with each other, and I wanted him to leave us.

Multiple times my father would stand from the dinner table to grab another beer from the fridge, and I was relieved each time to see that he had brought back only one to the table, dooming himself to have to get another one only minutes later. These short periods of time were the greatest parts of my dinner, Amanda would look over to me with her big eyes and default smile, and once or twice she would raise her foot to caress my groin beneath the table. She was barefoot, and I would reach down, guiding her smooth toes along my hard dick beneath my pants. It was as casual a thing as if we had not done it; the two of us were certainly beyond the stage that involved getting to know one-another.

With my dad returned to the table, he again suggested that the reason he wouldn't eat with us was because he was going soon to pick our mother up from the airport. She had warned him that she had good news for him, and his plan was to take her out to dinner straight from the airport to celebrate. Amanda and I both deduced that given the amount of beers he had consumed, he probably thought that this was the first time he was telling us, but we knew better than to be worried. Our father preformed better when intoxicated than when not.

Amanda seemed to be getting antsy, which excited me because our father would be leaving soon, and I hoped that her energy would translate to something nice when that happened. Now when my father would stand to visit the refrigerator, she would slyly press a green bean into her mouth, only to retrieve it and push it into mine. A line from the Dean Martin song, 'Aint That a Kick In The Head, seemed to describe my feelings all too well, "If this is just the beginning, my life is 'gonna be beautiful." At this point in time, all that I could think about was the future, and how wonderful it was going to be if such interactions persisted.

"Dad," Amanda whispered.

"Yes dear?" Something about him calling her 'dear' made me oddly uncomfortable at first, but I eased relatively quickly.

"Yesterday I met this amazing boy," she giggled, not looking over at me.

"Oh really?" My dad asked this question as though he were curious for more details, but I could tell that there were no possible details that Amanda could give that would satisfy his fatherly, suspicious instinct.

"Yeah." She was blushing now. "He's great, a real gentleman. I think you would like him." My father looked angry now if anything.

"What's this gentleman's name?" He asked. Amanda seemed a little caught off guard by his question, like she hadn't planned this far ahead when she started this uncomfortable conversation.

"Uh- Burgess," she looked stone-faced back at him, as he did his best to conceal laughter. My willpower was not quite as strong, and I let loose a slight chuckle.

"Oh shut up. With a name like Nathan, you can only be one of like three people." She laughed a little bit, as did I. I thought to myself, "Burgess is one of the three I guess."

"So, you met a boy named Burgess, and he's a gentleman?" My father inquired.

"Yeah. He makes me feel like a woman, not a girl." The amount of discomfort that I had during this conversation in its entirety was ridiculous. It only escalated when Amanda would rub my dick beneath the table with her sexy feet.

"Well, I guess if he was really special I'd be fine with it," my father grunted as he stood up to prepare to leave. "I should be going now though, your mother's plane lands in less than an hour and I want to be early. Clean up after you guys finish eating, she deserves to come home to a clean house."

"Yes sir," Amanda said, her eyes following him to the trash where he dropped his empty bottle. My dick seemed to grow exponentially with each step my father took in the opposite direction.

"Seeya' dad," I mustered out. Neither Amanda nor I looked at each other until we heard the front door

start, and no words were spoken until the sounds of the car turning on could be heard.

"Well." I looked deeply into her eyes.

"Well," she repeated, with a womanly smile encasing her beautiful face.

"Shall we head to the famous couch?" I asked. She laughed and began to stand. The removal of the pressure her foot had been applying to my cock was depressing, but I knew it would be justified momentarily. We headed to the family room without clearing the table.

With my hand trapped in the warmth of her hand, she led me to the couch were we would hopefully spend as much of the night together as fate would permit. She sat down on the far end of the couch, but as soon as I sat down, she scooted closer to me. Her hip was firmly against mine for only a second, before she shifted and laid down across my lap as she had done the day before. I took note of the jeans she was wearing, and frowned, reaching for the waistband to remove them. She raised herself for a moment to assist me, and with ease they slid off. My pants came off next, before she lowered herself back down onto my lap. Her blue eyes were glowing bright, like they were the light source of the room. My right hand reached down between her thighs, and began to explore, while my left hand reached over to grasp her face. I held her chin up, and stared into her eyes while she began to hump my right hand. A sigh escaped her thick pink lips, and my hand twitched along with her warm and wet pussy. I took note for the first time that her panties were soaked. I almost laughed at how apparent it was, and yet how oblivious I had been to the fact. However, there were emotions inside me at the time that were more powerful than laughter, so I suppressed it. Her hips continued to thrust upwards against my sweaty hand, drenching it. The pace was slow and intimate, as if the two of us could continue and not tire for many hours. For all that I knew, it had been many hours when I finally lowered my left hand from her face, to the bottom of her shirt to remove it. I slowly pushed it upwards over her head, and she sat up to allow us to progress. Not a second passed before she began to imitate me, and remove my shirt. Quite suddenly, the two of us combined were sitting on the couch in a collective three pieces of clothing. 'Three too many,' I thought to myself.

"I've been thinking about you all day, Nathan." Amanda had her eyes closed, but her face pointed at mine as if they were open.

"Yeah? How funny. I was about to say the same," my response invoked a slight grin on her face. My hand continued to gyrate around her wet mound through her panties. I had become slightly more used to the idea of her being aroused by me, but I still wasn't fully sure that it was as honest as it appeared. Her sweet pussy was soaked, and her comment about thinking of me told one story, but the realist in me feared that there was some balancing factor. Whether or not there was, I decided to dismiss the thought from my mind and focus on pleasing the goddess on my lap so that she would hopefully remember this event with happiness.

My hand continued to traverse the warm skin around her pussy, spreading the wetness as it did so. Her panties seemed to begging to come off, and I eventually obliged them. They hung between her knees; heavy from the moisture they held. Even with the panties gone, I pretended they were still there by not plunging my finger into her tight depths quite yet. Instead, I maintained my broad massage, incorporating attention for her thighs and hips. Her eyes were tightly shut, as if she were resisting a scary movie, and the expression on her face showed some degree of frustration. I imagine that she sensed my fear about her expression, because she clarified it soon after I noticed.

"Stop teasing me, you bastard!" I laughed a little bit, relieved that she was only fed up because of my slow pacing.

"Why? Watching you squirm at my touch is just about the most fun I could be having." The flirtatious nature of our talk seemed natural, and relevant. Her eyelids seemed to ease their tension, and her lips turned upwards, to support my theory.

"You don't think that we could be having more fun?" She briefly opened her eyes, and I felt the shock waves from their beauty.

"You must be maturing, I had thought that you would never question an opportunity to prove me wrong about something."

"Me- maturing? What do you think this is?" With that being said, she proceeded to prove me wrong. She clutched my hand with her perfect legs, and sat up to lock my lips with hers. She then directed my free hand using one of hers to the center of her chest; equidistant from either of her perfectly shaped tits. For no particular reason, I picked one of the two and began to knead it as though it were a baseball that I was moments from pitching. My fingers throbbed on it, pressing down on her erect nipple. I then employed the same tactic that I had been using on her vagina only seconds before. I circled it, taunting it, making it shiver from the withdrawal of intensity. The combination of this, and my other hand still being trapped against her pussy lips, forced an audible moan from her lips. She withdrew her face from mine, to look deeply into my eyes. Her scent overpowered all else, and I did my best to savor the aroma. My head was swimming with an overload of passion, and desire. Each of her proceeding moans brought me to a new level of my feeling of ecstasy.

In a smooth transition, Amanda parted her thighs to free my hand, remove her panties the rest of the way and straddle my waist. My free hand wasted no time rising to the corresponding boob. It mirrored the behavior of its fellow hand, with equal pressure and equal caresses. Amanda then put her lips to mine once more. We sat like this for a long time. Her hips were battering away at mine in a fairly paced humping motion. My hands would switch off from playing with her perky breasts, and exploring the rest of her form. They would sometimes rest on her smooth ass for as long as thirty seconds straight. My dick was raging solid, unlike it had ever been. It pressed up against her bare ass, held back by only my boxers. Once in a while we would break the kiss in order to catch our breath, and in this time I would avert my sight to her lower body, thinking constantly, "this is on me right now." Each time I said it to myself, I was in just as much disbelief as I had been in the time before. She was perfect, the finest human body ever pieced together, and she was sitting on my lap dry humping me. "This is on me right now," I thought once more. Her golden skin was my warmth, pressed against me firmly and creating sweat. Our bodies glistened together, our heartbeats raced together, and our smiles seemed to be relative to one another's.

"Nathan," she panted for another moment before continuing. "I'm not sure that we should go any further right now." My mind was still overloaded, and it was seconds before I registered what she had just said.

"What? Why not?" Our intimate motions had not ceased yet. Part of me thought that she was kidding, she had been just as into this interaction as I had. She had met me on all fronts, and it seemed cruel that she would even joke about such a thing as halting.

"I'm serious," she said, trying to slow down our pace.

"Is something wrong?" I was still considering the possibilities: she was worried that we would get caught, something had hurt her, she wanted me to beg?

"I'm sorry. We can talk about it later." And just like that she stood from my lap, turning away from me and not giving me the courtesy of a pitiful glance as she gathered her clothes and went upstairs. My dick hadn't even began to go soft. What sort of demon had possessed the beautiful, provocative teenager who had moments ago been willing and able? I sat alone on the famous couch for another moment, my heartbeat slowing, and then commenced to go upstairs and angrily masturbate.

Part 2: The Rustlin' and Bustlin'

My good friend Harry was on my right, and Brian on my left. We patrolled the streets for a long while, joking and laughing as boys my age will. It seemed as though we had covered every topic there was to cover within the broad range of sexual discussion.

"I'm tellin' you, it's not weird to use lube when going solo," Harry laughed as he spoke. His head was turned in my direction, but he was not looking at either Brian, or me. "What do you think the entire point is of jerking off?"

"To jizz," Brian shook his head. "Your point is?"

"My point is that to get there, you have to imagine real sex. You're not supposed to think about the process of masturbating when you're masturbating, you're supposed to be trying to do anything you can to convince yourself that you're not masturbating."

"So where does the lube come in, smartass?" Brian shook his head with a large grin still inhabiting his expression.

"Pussy doesn't feel like your dry palm does it?" Brian laughed, but didn't seem to be getting the inference. "Lube is used to help bridge the gap between hand and pussy," Harry seemed content with his answer, and sighed, realizing that he had gotten slightly worked up about the whole discussion.

"Nate, where do you put yourself on all of this?" Brian looked at me hopefully, thinking that it was likely that I would back him up and confirm Harry's habit being odd.

"Some dudes like some things, others like other things..." I continued to glare straight ahead, not giving off any signs of interest in the conversation. I could sense the two of them exchanging glances, and nothing else was said for a moment.

"Seeing that you have no opinion on the matter, what's up with you buddy?" Harry asked. I took a few more steps before responding, aggravated by the loud noises made by the passing cars.

"There's a girl." Once again I could sense the two exchanging glances, but with a more excited tone this time. "Last night, in the middle of a session, she walked out on me," I knew that they would figure out what I meant by "session." Brian took a few quickened steps to get ahead of us, and turned to face us stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Harry and I stopped just before reaching him.

"Some bitch?" Brian asked. Even though I was very disappointed and even angry about the lack of an explanation for Amanda's sudden change of heart, hearing my friend call her a "bitch" frustrated me.

"No, I really like this girl. She's perfect, but it just seems like she's withholding herself," I sighed.

"You think that's abnormal? Hell, you haven't been with enough of them if you think that's cruel." I didn't even notice which of my friends had said that, I was so perplexed with my thoughts that they both suddenly seemed like little children that I had to entertain until their parents would return to retrieve them. I think that I just nodded and kept walking. I'm not even sure if I said anything else up until lunch, but between the two of them, enough was said to cover for my silence. I spent the time within my own worries, fearing that Amanda might be simply playing some sort of game with me. Not until a few days ago, had she even given off a hint that her feelings for me were anything more than uniform. It occurred to me that I may have just been paranoid, but it seemed possible that she would have been working on some sort of elaborate trick, to spite me. What is the loving potential of a person like that? Surely Amanda wasn't the right girl for me. I did my best to convince myself of this, but it was to no avail. Even if she was playing me for a fool, I wanted to do everything that I could to play along so long as she would reward me with her attention. My thoughts at this time were irrational, and quite stupid. There was no way that I could be sure what Amanda was thinking unless I confronted her. Rather than talk to myself in circles, achieving no further understanding about my feelings, I would have to face her.

A few days passed, during which I jerked off a lot more than usual. I tried using lube for one of the instances, but it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. It was harder to get a firm grip, and it stayed oiled up for a long while after the fact, so I determined that I'd withhold from it then on. Aside from the frequent attention that I gave myself, I was relatively isolated for the following days. Amanda seemed to be ignoring me, I saw her only once in passing but I assumed that this was deliberate. The tension in the air was always intense. I felt like at any moment, Amanda would say or do something, anything, but it didn't happen. I feared that if I waited for her to make a move, I would have to go back to school again not having gone to bed with her. That was the endgame after all, and I was committed, so that night I approached my sexy sister's room, careful not to press too roughly on the floorboards. It occurred to me that I could be as loud as I wanted, seeing as my parents were out of town for the weekend and Amanda would be seeing me when I got to her room anyway. I couldn't bring myself to walk loudly though; the unnecessary silence was comforting to me as I was very nervous.

After what felt like a journey of a thousand steps, I reached the entrance, and waited to face the one remaining foe in between myself and my prize: the doorknob. I twisted it ever so slowly, applying pressure to the shape of the door simultaneously. My senses were heightened, causing the squeaks from the hinges to be escalated to thunderous roars. Surely she would have waken up from them. I approached her bed, seeing a mold of the familiar shape of her body in the covers. At her side, I placed my hand down onto her smooth cheek, caressing it as if it were a silk cloth. A heavy inhale transpired, and two reflective eyes eased open to greet me. They glowed, and stared into mine.

"Hello," I said. I wasn't able to think of anything sly in time, so I settled for the classic, formal greeting.

"Hi," Amanda whispered. She seemed to have woken up fairly quickly.

"I wanted to talk to you. I suppose I could have waited until the morning, but it's just been so long," I looked to the floor, somewhat pitifully.

"True," she spoke as though she had no interest in picking the torch back up. I was a bit discouraged by this at first, but I knew I had to keep pressing on because if I ended the conversation here, it would show doubt, and weakness.