Sisterfest Ch. 04: Rejected Sister 01

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Part 2: Naomi.

My name is Nimmie, and I'm 19 years old. I live with my mum and older brother, Rowan, in a place called Caterham, not far from Gatwick Airport, in Surrey, England. I'm just under 5'6", blonde hair like mum's, but more sort of 'washed-out'; mum's hair is a lovely deep, honey- gold; mine, not so much; Rowan says my colour is what they call 'corn-blonde'. I have green eyes, a fair complexion, slim and willowy (according to Rowan) with 32B boobs, which look bigger because I have a small waist, but I still look in-proportion to my height and weight. My friends say I'm shapely, with a nice round bum, which allegedly is what men want in a blonde. Rowan says I'm pretty, but he's my big brother, he's supposed to. I tip the scales at just about 58 kilos, or 127 lbs, so not exactly underweight, either. All things being equal, I think I fit together pretty well.

Rowan is nearly two years older than me, with green-hazel eyes. He looks an awful lot like dad, which means he's a real looker, something my girlfriends at school would never, ever let up about, and I do sometimes see mum looking at him when he's not looking and there's a tear in her eye. Rowan is tall, almost 6'2", well, but not heavily, built, more a sort of triathlete's build, or maybe a championship tennis player; well-muscled but not at all heavy or hulking is the best way I can describe him.

Rowan, on the other hand, claims he's built like a racing turkey...

He has beautiful chestnut hair, shot through with blond highlights, like dad's, but not well groomed and meticulous like dad always was, though; Rowan goes out of his way to look anonymous and nondescript, as little as possible like that bastard father of ours, in fact. It doesn't fool me, though, nor my friends; anything more than a quick glance at him and the man-hottie he tries to hide leaps out at you.

I did have one shameful secret, and it was driving me insane with the effort of not just blurting it out; of all the boys I've met, since I was old enough to date and have 'the talk' with mum and the visit to the gynaecologist, there's only ever been one guy I'd seriously leap on and have my way with, and it's Rowan. Sick, huh? I saw him naked one day, purely by chance, and that was it; that's what did it for me.

It was not long after Easter when it happened; I'd just returned to uni after the Spring Term break, and came home one afternoon to an empty house, or so I thought. Mum's car was gone, I didn't know Rowan was home, and I'm sure he didn't know I'd come in from classes. I was going upstairs to dump my books in my room and change, when the bathroom door opened and out he walked, stark naked, towelling his hair dry.

He was completely unconscious of my presence as I stood in the bend of the stairs, hidden in the shadow there, staring up at him, absolutely enthralled at seeing him so natural and relaxed, with that perfect poise and unawareness of being observed that even the best stage actors can't capture. I marvelled at his toned, lean torso, at the way each muscle flexed and rippled, perfectly outlined by the dark hair beginning to speckle his chest and outline the muscles of his solid abdomen, at how elegant, graceful and fluid his movements were, and just how perfect his profile was. I held my breath, making no sound or movement to tip him off to my presence, just lost in the sheer visual impact of him as he stood there, completely natural and oblivious, breathtaking in his masculine beauty as he scrubbed at his hair with the towel.

Confused emotions whirled through me; I loved Rowan, he loved me, he was my family, my big brother, and suddenly I fancied him! God, what was wrong with me?

From then on, I'd developed a sort of teasing regime, for reasons that still seemed unclear, but felt right. On days when I wasn't in class or being an auxiliary at the hospital, I'd prance around the house in skin-tight boy-shorts and cut-off tank tops, or sunbathe on the patio in a teensy little red bikini and somehow convince him to rub sun-block on me; as I have very fair skin, he'd help me, slapping it on haphazardly then bolting for the house, and later I'd get the lecture about my skin type being susceptible to skin cancer, which was kind of a boner-killer, even lady-boners...

Still, he meant well, and it showed he cared, but there was no evidence that he was interested in me, or ever was going to be, and I began to despair of ever getting him into a compromising position.

After nearly a year of drooling over him, mooning around half-naked and getting nothing except "Cover them up, Nim; if mum sees you looking like that she'll lock you up in a convent!" and generally getting no more comments or compliments about my bum, or any other part of me, either, I was ready to move things up to DEFCON 2. He wanted to play hard to get, I was willing to play hardball, we'd just see who cracked first.

The next time I had a late morning, no classes and no ward-duties at the hospital, I sneaked into his room to have a rifle through his laptop. I knew he didn't have a password; he never took his laptop out of the house, and I had my own laptop, so he probably thought I'd never snoop his, as what would I do with a bunch of essays and papers on vulcanism and plate tectonics, coastal erosion, and alluvial whatnots. Never, ever believe your little sister is not nosy enough to snoop your laptop; that way lies ruin. My own laptop was locked-down tighter than the Jewel Room in the Tower of London, but then I'm sneaky, deceitful, devious, and underhanded...

On first powering-up, there was nothing immediately incriminating on his desktop, and searching through the dozens of folders there only turned up more and varied papers and charts, diagrams, and graphs relating to his studies. I was about to give up, when I noticed an icon labelled 'virtual drive', so I clicked on it, and there was a sub-folder, titled simply 'N'.

Intrigued more than ever, I clicked on it, and gasped out loud. The girl in the pictures looked exactly like me, being fucked in every possible position, in every hole! There were pictures ranging from straightforward sex, to having a thick cock shoved into her arse, to sucking one, sometimes two cocks at the same time, and many, many shots of her kneeling with her eyes closed as cocks blew their loads over her face, rivulets of spunk running down her face and dripping from her chin in long ropes.

There were video clips as well, in some foreign language, maybe Russian, and it was more of the same. I could feel my pussy itching and throbbing at the sight of a girl who could be me being used in such a filthy, dirty, depraved, exciting way. I wanted it to be me, I wanted to be her, and I wanted Rowan to be the one doing all that to me! Now my pussy was screaming for attention again, so I staggered back to my room, flopped onto my bed, and jammed my plastic boyfriend into me, in any and every hole, while all the time seeing Rowan above me as I imagined that solid, tireless cock of his pounding into me until I erupted in a sweltering, boiling, explosive orgasm that nearly knocked me out cold.

*

The next day was probably the turning point, the point in my life where teasing and fantasising turned into serious plotting. I was talking to my friend Jane, someone I'd known half my life; I'd had a pre-teen crush on her older brother, Greg, for a while, and she was the person who'd convinced me to study nursing with her.

While we were chatting about general stuff, life, boys, that sort of thing, and sniggering at the junior doctors and medical students trying to appear cool in front of the student nurses, I dropped my guard and, quite without meaning to, blurted out that I thought my big brother was hot, and that I'd do him before I let any of those spotty medical students anywhere near me, and then stopped in horror as I realised what I'd just confessed to.

Jane gave me a really odd look, then took me to one side, where she asked me exactly what I meant. I was cornered, so I told her what I'd been trying to do, what I was feeling for Rowan, the whole nine yards. She gave me a very peculiar look, almost calculating, then told me in no uncertain terms to think carefully about what I was doing. She was going away for Easter, but if I was serious, then perhaps we should have a little chat when classes were back in, because she thought she might be able to help me. That was enough to intrigue me, and so I spent the entire Easter break in a fever of anticipation; for the first time in my life, I actually couldn't wait to get back to class.

A couple of days after classes resumed, I was in the cafeteria when Jane caught my eye. She was sitting alone at a table. She rolled her eyes to indicate the empty chair opposite her, so I casually sauntered over and plonked my tray on the table, dumped my books and sat down. Jane didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"Have you thought about what we discussed before Easter?"

I nodded, and Jane also nodded, watching me carefully in silence for a little longer than I was comfortable with, then seemed to come to a decision.

"Alright, I know some people who may be able to help you. Don't ask me any questions, Nim, because I'll just have to lie to you; just accept I know what I'm doing. I have to make a few calls, and you'll be hearing from someone soon enough, just be patient, got it?"

I nodded again, for the first time wondering just what I was getting myself into.

Jane nodded her head slowly, never once breaking eye contact, then leaned closer, her voice barely audible over the noise and clatter of the cafeteria.

"If you're having second thoughts, Nim, now's the time; I don't feel like wasting my time if you're going to get cold feet. Are you absolutely sure about this? Because this isn't kiss the boys and run away, or spin the bottle; real people are involved, and getting involved means going all the way; are you still sure this is what you want?"

I looked her back in the eye and nodded.

"Yes I am; I think he's worth it; you know him too, almost as well as I do; don't you think he's worth it? I've tried it my way; I couldn't get it to happen. Now I think I have to try it your way."

Jane smiled and reached over to pat me on my wrist.

"Okay, as long as you're sure. I think you'll be alright. The first time I did this with Greg I was scared, but I shouldn't have been; the people we're talking about here need to be careful, but they're good people, and they know what they're doing; they'll look after you and make sure you're safe and it's something you're completely happy doing. Trust me, Nim, I know you'll enjoy it. And, just for the record, Greg and I are still together, in secret, of course, but when I've qualified, we're going away somewhere where we can be together and safe; maybe you need to make plans as well. You know I think Rowan is a hottie, too; much as I love my Greggie, I'm feeling quite jealous of you right now!"

*

And that, pretty much, was that, at least for several weeks; June was part-way through when I finally got a call early one Saturday morning regarding that odd conversation I'd had with Jane way back in April. A woman who introduced herself as 'Sylvie' said that I'd been referred to her by a mutual acquaintance for inclusion in a special weekend gathering of 'like-minded individuals'; I assumed that was code for 'girls who want to fuck their big brothers'. Was I still interested? This was it. Of course I said yes, and that I would very much like to attend. 'Sylvie' told me that an invitation and instructions would be forthcoming, and rang-off. Now it was in motion, game on.

When I broached the subject about the weekend away to mum, she looked doubtful, but when Rowan said he was going along too, with the express intention of seeing I was safe and well-behaved, mum relented. So now we were set. While I waited on the date, I dialled-back a little on the flaunting and revealing clothes; no need to make it too obvious, not now I had him on the hook; all that was left was to reel him in, which our weekend away together should do quite nicely.

The morning finally arrived; I'd just finished re-packing Rowan's clothes and replacing his habitual grunge with some dressy shirts and slacks, a couple of tennis shirts, and some decent shorts I'd bought him without his knowledge, when I heard him calling me from downstairs.

"Nim, Nimmie, could you come down here, please?"

I poked my head over the balustrade to find out what he wanted.

"What's up , Rowan, I'm busy!" I called down to him.

"Nim, there's a bloody great big limousine here for us; did you order a limo? I thought we were driving down!"

I grabbed his weekend case and dragged it downstairs, where he was waiting for me with a quizzical expression on his face.

"Nim, about this limo...?"

I patted his hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Rowan, it's all part of the weekend; the people who are having the weekender have sent it; it's not costing us a penny! Now be a poppet and help me take these cases out!"

He looked at me with that expression he gets when he can't quite believe what I've just said.

"Poppet...?" he murmured, but took hold of both cases and lugged them out to the car, a huge black limousine with very dark privacy glazing. As the driver, a large, square man in a black suit and sunglasses stowed the cases in the boot, Rowan gave me that look again.

"Nim, who are these people, where's their house, and how do you know them?"

Okay, this was it, engage 'lie-mode'...

"The girl whose party it is, Sylvie, is an old friend of Jane's; you know, my oldest friend Jane?" Okay, so that much, at least, is true...

He nodded, grinning, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Yeah, Jane with the big eyes and nice tits; oh yeah, I remember her, alright!"

I punched him lightly on the arm, secretly pleased he was buying this.

"Get your mind out of the gutter and listen! Jane asked me to come along, and as I sort of knew Sylvie anyway, I squared it with her; she was lovely about it, she was actually going to invite me anyway, but felt she didn't know me well enough to ask me outright, so when Jane asked me along, she was fine with it. That's it, Rowan, now you know, the girl's jungle telegraph is still alive and well!"

So not too many outright fat lies, and just enough half-truths to keep him off the scent; besides, I'd talked to Sylvie, so I did 'sort of' know her...

Rowan accepted my explanation, and bowed me into the car, a smirk on his face, and instinctively put his arm around my shoulder as I slid into the deeply-upholstered bench seat next to him. The driver slammed the door, and it was then I realised the privacy glass was opaque in both directions; all we could see outside were vague, blurry shapes. As the limo pulled away, the driver activated the privacy screen, another opaque piece of glass, and we were completely isolated in a blacked-out car going God knows where. I had a few qualms, but I trusted Jane, and Sylvie had seemed genuine, and Jane obviously trusted her, so I tried to relax.

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Part 3: Rowan

And now I was walking arm-in-arm with Nim thorough this place we'd arrived at, after endless hours of travel in a blacked-out limousine, and it was an almost surreal experience. Everywhere I looked there was rich, tasteful décor: wide, elegant, richly carpeted corridors with high, intricately coved ceilings, and Regency striped walls with niches containing ornate antique clocks or statues, hung with huge paintings of hunting scenes or fanciful shepherdesses, and long and dizzying flights of stairs that led to more corridors, and yet more staircases, until Nim was completely disorientated.

I wasn't, but I was staggered at the size of this place; just where the hell were we? Gigantic, empty stately homes, route marches through what felt like miles of corridors, large, anonymous men in black wearing radio earwigs, and all done in complete silence; the gorilla leading us refused to answer any questions, and the sound of our voices disappeared into the echoing silence as we trudged along. Now I was spooked, and one question kept squirreling around in my head: just what the hell had we gotten ourselves into, and how the hell were we going to get out of it?

Nim was starting to look apprehensive, and I wasn't far behind her, when we stopped in front of a pair of large double-doors. At some unseen signal the doors swung open silently, and there, at last, were other people, young people, couples, eyeing us curiously as the men in black ushered us into the room, then stepped back as the doors swung closed just as silently. The slight lull in the buzz of conversation dissipated as a myriad of conversations started up again, and Nim and I looked around the room, wondering what happened next; at least, I was.

I noticed she was looking a lot more chipper now that we'd arrived; her smile was back, and she was relaxing. I wasn't so ready to back-down just yet; for all that Nim had been invited here for the weekend, there had been no greeting, no introduction from the hosts, whoever he, she, or they were, just this collection of young couples, none of whom seemed to know each other, from what I could gather from the snatches of conversation I overheard. What exactly was going on here?

I scanned the room, looking for Jane; Nim had said she was also invited, but I couldn't see her anywhere, and I was just about to ask Nim about her friend when the doors opened again, and another couple came in, but what a couple! He was tall, about my age, very good-looking, and obviously well built, with piercing blue eyes and a mop of black hair; the girl with him was something else, though; tall, slender and graceful, with a mass of long, jet-black hair, stunning, deep blue eyes, and pale, clear skin.

Nimmie aside, she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, and she was obviously having the same effect on every other male in the room, judging by the soft ripple of indrawn breath from every male present. I was in love with Nimmie, of that I had no doubts at all, but if I couldn't have her, I'd have settled for the new girl without a moment's hesitation. She and the guy with her were obviously brother and sister, and with that realisation came another; every couple here resembled each other; they were all brothers and sisters, just like Nim and me. Once again that thread of disquiet fluttered in me; just what the hell was going on here?

The set of double doors at the other end of the room opened, and three people came in, two girls and a man a few years older than me. They were also obviously family, and the room silenced as everyone took them in, two beautiful girls with long, gold-threaded red hair, dressed in the most revealing cat-suits I'd ever seen, slit from ankle to hip on the legs and with wide, plunging necklines that continued almost to their crotches, and a guy I assumed to be their older brother. The older of the girls smiled at everyone, and began speaking.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending our little gathering. It's good to see so many of you here; we shall strive to make your weekend a memorable one!"

The way she emphasised the word 'memorable', with a small, knowing smile, made me wonder what she meant, but I said nothing as she continued speaking.

"You may be wondering why you are here, but by the end of the weekend, all your questions will have been more than satisfactorily answered, of that you can be certain! My name is Sylvie, and this is my younger sister, Robyn, and my older brother Evan; we are your hosts for the weekend, welcome to our home!"

While she'd been talking, the other girl had been circulating through the crowd, saying something to each girl, who'd smiled, nodded, and left her brother to go stand by the closed double doors. When she came up to us and whispered something to Nim, she did the same, flashing me a smile and patting my arm before joining the other girls before I could object. What the hell?