Nicole's Secret

There was always something about her, those big inquisitive eyes, the wicked laugh, the sway of her hips when she walked tall and confident. To be near her was enchanting, and she knew it. Even when we were kids, she had everything together: good grades, the right friends, exquisite poise, and a body to die for.

I always believed Nicole was the coolest chick I knew. She didn't think much of me, but younger brothers have a way of getting on your nerves. I didn't mind though, I loved to be around her just like everyone else. Even though there was no chance in hell of it ever happening, my days and nights were filled with thoughts of fucking my gorgeous sister. Keeping those desires a secret for so many years isn't easy to do. Despite her prancing around the house in her underwear regularly, my peculiar desire to see her naked was never too obvious.

It must have been that electric blue bikini she wore in the backyard that attracted my undivided attention the first time. It wasn't until then that I noticed what a sexy round little butt she had. That tight rear kept me awake a few nights, but it was her bare belly that gave me fits. I wanted to mash my face into that stomach of hers whenever she stretched out on our back lawn chair. I don't think she noticed me hanging around the backyard more often whenever she smoothed on the coconut oil and silently tanned herself. Invariably, however, I would end up staring out of the upstairs bathroom window that overlooked her beautifully nasty backyard display.

Her looks made her sexy, but what made my sister unbearably beautiful was the fact that she never seemed to know how much attention she attracted. Nicole remained oblivious to the stares she commanded not just from me, but from every man and boy she walked by.

Nor was she deliberate in her irresistible sexiness. Although she spent a lot of time doing herself up every morning, and blew her allowance on chic skimpy outfits. The ability she had to drive men wild isn't available in a lipstick shade or designer knock-off. But, whatever it was, Nicole just had it - whether she wanted it or not.

I always figured she had to have some awareness of it. She had to know she looked good, even if she couldn't fathom just how amazing she was on an everyday basis. Like when she stood, clad only in a fresh bath towel that hung ever so slightly below her butt. Nicole was a vision from across any room, but leaning toward the vanity mirror there in the open bathroom after her shower, drying her hair and doing her face - those morning glimpses of her fueled my teenage mind with enough mental pornography to put Playboy out of business.

A million times a day I wished, prayed, and bargained with God for her towel to suddenly come loose and drop to the floor. When, one morning, that wish was finally granted, I nearly forgot how to breathe. She was concentrating on her lip liner, one hand operating the curling iron and the other outlining that full, pouty mouth, when her towel slipped from beneath her armpit - almost as though I'd willed it to. A thousand sirens went off deep inside me, and a four-alarm fire screamed in my briefs. Nicole covered herself back up quickly enough, but that brief sight of her young naked breasts and soft forbidden pussy remained emblazoned in my memory for the rest of my life.

God, she was beautiful.

And she remained beautiful, only improving with age. In the years that followed, I took ridiculous risks to lay eyes on more of my secret addiction. I'd hatch elaborate plans to spy on her privately dressing, undressing, and bathing. I managed in every way I could to sneak long looks at her nude form. To me she was better than any of the chicks in my dirty magazines. Better still, she was alive and breathing and accessible. Watching her move around her bedroom in the nude drove me out of my mind. I'd crouch under her bed and watch her strut from her dresser to her closet, taking her time to select what she'd wear. Thinking herself alone, she was so unashamed, so confident, and oh-so naked.

Then, as we both got older, she grew almost as curious about her own body as I was. She would stand for half an hour in front of her full-length mirror some nights, brushing her long dark hair, touching her still developing breasts and giving my fertile imagination more than it needed for countless scenarios of masturbatory fantasies. I often imagined her entering my room late at night, in the dark, wanting me, showing me, teaching me, kissing me, fucking me. And was worst agony of all was knowing I could never tell her - never tell anyone of the one thing I wanted more than life. Keeping my lust for her a secret was the only way to assure a quick glimpse here, a detailed study there. If she'd known I was looking, she'd have been disgusted and outraged. And, even if she had merely suspected my curiosity, she'd have been aware and more modest. Still, I couldn't help wishing and fantasizing what it would be like if only she knew.

As my desire grew to see more of Nicole, her experimenting with boys made me insane with wonder. Whenever she took a boyfriend into her room I couldn't help but imagine what he was getting to see, to touch, to taste. My sister developed a very free-spirited boy-crazy nature, and she snuck more than a few boyfriends into her basement bedroom after mom and dad had gone to bed. The door was always locked, but I'd see them slither through the ground-level windows where it was easy to climb down her bookshelves. How I envied those lucky bastards. And how I craved to watch her with them. To see her fuck instead of just listening at the door.

And, once again, my twisted fantasy wishes were granted.

One afternoon, having decided to skip my last class, I trudged home early and was surprised to hear people in the house when I snuck in the back door. Fearing that my parents were home early, I checked the garage, only to find it empty. In the driveway, however, was the Firebird that belonged to Nicole's latest flavor of the month.

My heart pounding, I quietly investigated the sounds of grunting and moaning. The door to my parent's bedroom was wide open, and right in plain view on our parent's bed, Nicole lay flat on her back wearing nothing but a t-shirt . Her boyfriend, Brad, was on top of her, kissing her neck, and sucking wind into his lungs as he strained to ease himself in and out of Nicole's wet bush. She had a death grip around his shoulders . I quickly ducked down behind a chair, my heart pounding and my body shaking. I had a perfect side view of this private event and I thought I was going to explode as I watched her squeezing him tighter, and frantically digging her heels into Mom's quilted bedspread. At one point they had their foreheads together looking down between their bodies, panting and moaning, watching and listening to his pole slurping in and out of her. Nicole slowly drew her knees up along either side of him and pulled them against her shoulders, inviting him deeper. Brad slid his knees up along either side of her bottom and started to pump her really fast.

Nicole's screams jolted me out of my hypnotic trance, and I knew I had to get the hell out of there, but I couldn't pull myself away just yet. My peering eyes were glued to Nicole and Brad rolling over, and my confident, sweaty, bare-assed sister positioned herself on top of him, placed her hands on his rib-cage, and expertly lowered herself onto him. I managed to reluctantly slip away undetected, and preceded out the door to shoot load after load onto the cold garage floor. This scene would play out in my head constantly for weeks to come, and I can still remember it like it was yesterday.

Nicole eventually graduated from college with honors and got a job as a television producer in Chicago. She married, but divorced the cheating asshole just eighteen months later. I remained single, and liked it that way. My job as a medical equipment salesman required me to work some odd hours. Between that and taking care of Mother's house, I had little time to date, or make the three hour trips to visit Nicole as often as I would have liked. I often joked about how she finally recognized me as a worthwhile human being, and our infrequent visits were always very pleasant and full of wicked humor.

In most things, my sister and I had always been brutally honest with each other, but my infatuation with her remained a dark secret and never really diminished.

"So, have you been seeing anybody?" she asked me on a while we sipped drinks in the lounge of the hotel where my company had put me up for a weekend.

"I was seeing this one girl for a while," I confided quietly, "But whips and chains aren't really my thing, so we decided to break it off."

Nicole howled with laughter, she'd had a couple stiff ones by this time and never really cared about what other people thought. I guess I didn't either.

"What's the matter," she chided me, "Don't want to get tied down?"

I got the joke, smiled and shook my head with disbelief as Nicole laughed aloud again and waved the waiter over to our table. The night was young, and my sister was knocking them back a little heavier than usual.

"Are you going to be okay to drive?" I asked.

"Sure, I'll be fine, Tom," she insisted and ordered another round. "And if I'm not, you can drive me home."

"I'm not driving, I've already gone over my limit and people in this city are fucking nuts," I teased. "Besides, I have an early meeting with a client in the morning, so you're just going to have to get yourself a room."

Nicole agreed, and we decided that getting drunk was a great idea. We hadn't seen each other in so long, and we were really enjoying playing catch up. I hadn't seen her so spirited since her divorce from Stan, four and a half years previously. My sister was once the epitome of confident enthusiasm, but I could sense that she'd become fed up with dating - and men in general. She still dressed like a woman dressed when she wanted to be noticed by men, but she didn't really seem inclined to respond when a man noticed. To me, it was a waste of her charm and spiritedness. At twenty-seven she looked sexier than ever, her skinny teenage body having matured and filled out nicely in all the right places. I couldn't imagine how she could think of herself as less than desirable - or how she'd convinced herself she didn't deserve the world on a plate.

"Oh God, it's him," she groaned, her eyes peering beyond my shoulder. "Why does he show up at every place I go?"

"Who?" I asked.

"I don't even know his name," she sighed. "But he keeps popping up at all the singles places and whenever he sees me, he has to sit down and tell me his dreadfully tedious life story. I so cannot deal with him tonight."

Nicole always had a tough time being rude to anybody.

"Let's dance," she suggested, "maybe he'll think you're my boyfriend and keep his distance."

The house DJ had some pretty good rock going on, and once Nicole and I started dancing we found ourselves unable to leave the floor. There three songs later, we were still going strong, all thoughts of the bozo she was avoiding gone.

My sister looked especially hot under the dim dance lights, both her tight jeans and the thin maroon tank she wore hugged her form deliciously. Her seductive movements had only begun with the intention to dissuade that guy from hitting on her, but I was getting a little heated up from her performance anyway. The DJ made a suggestive comment about the hottest couple on the dance floor between songs, and it jolted us both to realize he meant us. When he cued up a slow number and Nicole reached around to pulled herself against me, however, I saw the DJ had planted mischief into my sister's eyes. A slow dance would be the best way to convince everyone that we were, indeed, lovers. I nervously wrapped my arms around my sister, rested my chin in her thick soft hair, and wondered if she could feel my growing hardness pressing into her belly.

This seemed a little awkward at first, but I soon realized that I was in a strange city and nobody in this bar knew me, or knew Nicole was my older sister. In fact, I don't think anybody really cared, except the guy she was avoiding, and we were putting on quite the show for him, pouring it on thicker and thicker as the song wore on.

Nicole started rubbing her hands gently up and down my back whenever my back was to him, and it was getting hard to resist my strong temptation to strip her naked and fuck her right there on the dance floor. Yes, that's exactly what I wanted to do, and I was secretly wishing Nicole felt the same way. God, she smelled delicious. We danced the whole dance not saying a word to each other.

When the song finished, Nicole kissed me, not like a brother and sister kiss, but a longer, passionate kiss on the mouth. Imagine my shock as I wondered if she was still putting on a show when she put her hand behind my head and pulled me in for an even longer smooch, our tongues dancing together in our open mouths. Our hands were all over each other, and as the next song started we just stood there on the dance floor making out like a couple of teenagers.

"Do you think we've convinced him?" I managed to ask, breathless.

"Well, whether he is or not, the show's over, Tom," she whispered in my ear. "Let's get back to our drinks."

We walked hand in hand, back to our table and sat quietly, not really looking at each other but watching the bar crowd. It just wasn't possible to make eye-contact with her and have the thoughts in my head that she had most certainly put there. Was I really drunk enough to have French kissed my sister on the dance floor of a hotel lounge? Had we really just been putting on an act, or had that spark been mutual? Did she not have any idea how much she turned me on, or was she struggling with the same thoughts as I was?

"So you're going to get a room tonight?" I asked casually. "I hope you aren't going to try to drive."

"I was thinking we should get a six-pack and go up to your room. I've got a big fat doobie we can puff on," she wiggled her eyebrows and shot me an evil grin. "I can always get myself a room later on."

Nicole waited in the lobby while I paid the bartender for a cold six of Bud. "Have a good one." he smiled. I intended to do just that.

We silently and nervously rode the elevator up to room 432, and not ten minutes later finally found ourselves sitting face-to-face and cross-legged on the hotel bed. I cracked two beers and she lit the joint.

Other than the small lamp in the corner, the room was dark, and eerily silent. My sister and I had committed an almost incestuous act in front God and everybody. And yet, instead of stammering with shame, we were coasting from the buzz. Still, I was feeling a little unnerved by the whole ordeal but intensely hoping for more of the same. We traded a few lame jokes, bitched about the quality of the beer, and raved about the pot we were passing back and forth; Nicole always knew where the good stuff was.

"That was quite a show we put on for that guy," I dared, trying to break the ice. "You deserve an Oscar for that performance."

"It must've been good," she said matter-of-factly. "Your hard-on was poking me in the stomach."

I choked so hard I was afraid I'd shoot beer out my nose, but my sister's cocky smike never faltered. "I'm glad old Nicki still turns you on, Tommy. Not that it takes a lot. You always were quite the horndog weren't you?"

"Whattya talkin' about?" I chuckled nervously, "You don't think I'd be turned on by my own sister?"

"Oh come off it," she giggled, stretching out her legs and taking a swig. "Or maybe it wasn't you under my bed while I preened after showers. Or maybe it was my other brother who used to press his nose against the bathroom window to watch the little stripteases I performed just for prying eyes." She paused to let me digest a moment and then shot me a wink, "Even after all these years - do you think I dance out of my clothes every time I take a shower, Tommy?"

I didn't know what to say, I just sat there stoned and red-faced while Nicole stood up and walked over to the dresser to light a regular cigarette. She looked nervous, but somehow free at the same time. She looked like the old Nicole, bold and sassy and free - not at all cynical or conquered.

"You know I didn't like it very much at first, but after a while it kind of turned me on to strip for you. Although I used to worry you'd get up the nerve to take pictures. You didn't ever do that, did you, Tommy?"

I couldn't move my head to shake it "no." Finding out she had been stripping for me all those years shocked me and made my cock instantly hard in my pants.

"How about that time I put suntan lotion on you at Uncle Phil's house, tell me that didn't turn your crank a little. Do you have any appreciation for how much of an art it is to accidentally brush a guy's cock that many times without being obvious?"

"You knew all along," I finally found my voice. "Why did you torture me like that?"

"It was fun watching you squirm little brother, kinda like you are now," she giggled. "I think it's cute. And I guess it was kind of a rush. No one ever looked at me the way you look at me, Tommy."

"You don't think I'm a pervert, do you?" I asked.

"No, of course not. You're a guy, it's not like you can help yourself. It's not like you ever wanted to really fuck me. Did you?" She crossed her ankles comfortably and leaned against the dresser.

She awaited an answer while I stalled and took another big hit.

"I fantasized about it a lot," I finally confessed. "But it was just a fantasy, you know? I knew it couldn't ever actually happen."

Her eyes snapped open a little. "Couldn't, or wouldn't?" she teased, giving a nervous twitter.

I didn't answer, but the look on my face must have given me away. As I looked right at her eyes, I could tell she knew exactly what I was thinking. I hadn't ever thought about fucking my sister - I mean actually fucking her - before that moment. The possibility of it all hit both of us like a ton of bricks as we locked gazes. The uncrossable, forbidden line was thinning between us, the impenetrable wall of social right and wrong, crumbling.

"Does that mean you would?" She sounded so serious. Her head was tilted to one side, as though examining me, and I didn't know what to answer. If I gave her the truth, she might never speak to me again. I took a breath and gathered my courage. Pot and beer always helps with courage.

"You bet I would," I confessed in one short breath. My heart was pounding; my dark, nasty secret was out. I couldn't believe I'd said it. I wanted to take it back, and yet I wanted to say it again. Nicole only raised her eyebrows in brief surprise, and I couldn't shake the feeling that her surprise was more over my being able to admit my sin than it was my desire to commit it. She continued to examine me, her mouth occasionally opening to make some joke or comment that she never voiced.

Then, it was as though the tiny jury of her mind, body, and soul decided on a course of action. With a shrug, Nicole calmly placed her beer on the dresser, snuffed out her cigarette and casually sashayed over to the bed and straddled my lap. Without hesitation, she placed both hands behind my ears and devoured my mouth.

We necked for a long time before she broke our kiss and asked, "Promise me this'll be our little secret Tommy," she breathed in my ear, "I want to do this with you, but no one can ever know," and kissed me again.

I promised eagerly. I would have promised the moon at that moment had she asked for it.

"You like this?" she whispered, teasing my mouth with her wagging tongue. "You like this little brother?" My only response was to hug her body hard while she ran her fingers in my hair and sucked on my tongue.