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Mom walked downstairs and into the kitchen just as I was heating up two sets of hot dogs for an easy dinner. Mandy told her that, following our afternoon at the mall, the two of us were going to stay in and watch movies while she and Dad were heading out to his Elk's Club.

"Oh, cute, the two of you spending the evening at home? Oh John! It's just like when you would babysit your little sister!"

I know she misses us being close as a family, so it didn't surprise me that she was glad to see us spending time together. Her enthusiasm did make me self-conscious, though. What would she think of how I had been staring at my little sister at the mall, modeling a slinky adult dress? It struck me that I would forever have to keep secret from Mom the feelings - never mind the lustful images - that I was having for her daughter.

What did surprise me was that she had changed from the flattering new pants that she had worn to work, now back into a rather frumpy and familiar dress. Dad didn't seem to notice, however.

An hour later, popcorn bowl filled and sodas refreshed, I plopped down on the couch just as Mandy walked back down. I was still in jeans and t-shirt, but Mandy had slipped up to her room while I was shaking the noisy pan of popcorn kernels, and now wore a pair of close fitting corduroy pants, a purple color that my mind couldn't help noticing were similar to the edging on the panties I had bought as a gift for her. I was struck by the ironic coincidence between mom and daughter today, both in tight pants. Above them she wore a loose-fitting, cream-colored top, the satiny-finish looking slick in the reflected in the glow from the t.v. screen. I pulled my eyes away before I had worked out whether she was wearing a bra underneath.

"Hey there John, you get hold of Alison?"

"Yeah, I did."

"And?"

"We're meeting Sunday afternoon. Going for a walk over at River Park."

"Good," Mandy responded, and at that moment saw me reaching for the remote. She lunged at the couch, and pretty soon I had lost the tussle over the channel changer, in part because Mandy pulled it against the loose-fitting cloth at her chest. She smirked, taking advantage of my self-prescribed out-of-bounds area. We sat side by side and drifted through a handful of predictable sit-coms, none of which I was able to pay much attention to, distracted by my sister sitting next to me in clothes which I guessed were chosen to get my attention and yet not sure what to do about it. Suddenly she had switched over to cable, which Dad had always defined as 'parents only television', and I realized she had either stumbled on, or navigated to, the erotically charged Spartacus series on Starz. I must have gone a little stiff, my mind swirling with a mix of reactions, because Mandy turned around and peered over at me with a grin.

I reddened a bit. I'd seen three of the episodes before, over at a friend's house in my senior year at high school. He'd invited a bunch of us from the track team over to celebrate the end of Spring Training. His parents had generously gone out and left us alone - pretty different than our Dad would have reacted - and apparently ignored the two six packs in the garage fridge. It had been fun to feel like we were really becoming adults. And the raunchy historical fiction of the Roman Spartacus series - gladiators and slaves and the like - had been pretty eye-catching. I think the other boys were like me, though. Not quite sure what to do with the idea of getting turned on in front of a bunch of other guys. A couple of them tried being crude, but that wasn't really our scene, so we ended pretty much watching through it in silence. I was left with a secret hard on, and an undefined sense that such soft-porn images were designed more for men than women.

"Really, you wanna watch this stuff?" I said now, once again grabbing unsuccessfully for the remote.

My sister eyed me coolly, easily fending me off by burying her hand in the soft folds at her breasts. I tried not to stare.

"What, girls aren't allowed?"

"I didn't say that. Just, you know...aren't you into, like, the romance novel stuff? I thought visuals were more kind of what men went for."

"Wow, bro. You really think that?"

"I dunno. Just haven't heard girls talking about the visuals much I suppose."

Mandy was looking sideways across at me, seeming to be evaluating something. Finally she spoke.

"Would it surprise you to hear that I can get turned on by visuals?"

I didn't answer this in words, but made a noncommittal face. Truth was I hoped she would continue.

"Wanna hear one image that really turned me on?" she finally said softly.

My throat was too clenched to speak, but my expression must have given me away, because she continued even more softly, so I could hardly hear her over the volume of the t.v.

"Last summer when you ran the 5,000 meters. And I sat up in the bleachers. You remember?"

Of course I remembered. gaziantep sahibe escort bayan Final race meet of the year, and I was favored with a good chance at that distance. Dad told me afterwards that I blew it, coming in second, but I believed that I was just unlucky with the competition. I felt that I had run the fastest race I could on the day. But it was disappointing. For a start, it hadn't helped any on my scholarship application. And also, I knew that Mandy had taken time out from Music to watch me. She had greeted me with a wrap around hug in front of all the teams before the starters gun and had perched herself up in the stand to see the whole of the field. But at the end she had kind of disappeared. Maybe, I had reflected sourly at the time, as disappointed as Dad.

Oh yeah, I remembered. Now I was all ears.

"Do you recall towards the end, when you got stuck behind that pack of runners? I guess they were from Valley, right?"

Wow, she had really paid attention. I nodded, unable to see where this was going.

"And then you pulled ahead? Got past them on the outside? Left just that one guy, the one who ended up going on to State, ahead of you?"

Again, I nodded, remembering viscerally the effort it had taken to make that pull into the open space behind the leader. Dad was wrong. I had truly given it my all.

Mandy tweaked the button on the remote and the sound quieted. She continued almost in a whisper.

"Did you notice that I moved? That I left the middle of the benches?"

For sure I had. First thing I had done when I had pulled across that line and fought for breath was look up to seek her shining smile and been stabbed with disappointment that she was no longer there.

Words came tumbling out of Mandy's mouth. "It was from watching you, John. Watching you take them on. Watching your legs power through and your arms pump past them, chest out front and the wind pulling your hair back. It was too much. I realized I was sitting on the hard bench squeezing my thighs together like I was riding something. I just had to move before someone noticed. I walked to the end of the bench against the side railing, and everyone's eyes were on you making your break, and I just couldn't stop myself. I sat in the shadows and pumped my wrists down between my jeans in the same rhythm as your strides. I couldn't get myself to come, but it felt so good, humping myself while I was watching you."

Mandy finished, the dark pools of her eyes on mine the whole time. I felt...I don't know what I felt actually. Stunned I guess. And then aware of how the wheels in my mind were turning, rewriting history, taking this moment that had been turned into a kind of let down, even though I knew it should have felt like a personal success. Rewriting it to include...wow, my little sister watching me and recognizing that I was trying my hardest. Not just recognizing, getting turned on by it. Really turned on. Suddenly it hit me like a blow. The visceral image of her leaning into the shaded side of the bleachers, pumping her wrists between her thighs with a sexual energy that matched my all out effort. Her arms and my legs literally pistoning in unison. I felt something begin to shift inside with this rewrite of the past.

At that moment, my peripheral vision was caught by the flash of skin. My attention was drawn back to the screen, where one of the slave girls was standing in the center of the shot - and being stripped of her full-length toga. Her long hair cascaded down as the dress was pulled away, her head downturned. I was rivetted. The truth was I had seen some porn, but not that much, and the sight of a naked woman was compelling. I knew that the cable series was a hokey kind of history, mostly an excuse for the erotica, but the high-end production visuals made it look like a public broadcasting history channel, and so this sudden nudity was shockingly impactful. My jaw dropped when, as her dress slipped down to the tiles at the buxom slave-girl's feet, instead of the usual network t.v. pull-away, the camera moved in closer to linger on a full frontal of her heavy breasts and triangle of bush. Despite the awkwardness of my younger sister sitting next to me, I couldn't pull my eyes away.

I heard a giggle beside me, and before I could react, Sis had slipped over my thigh and between my legs, pushing them a little wider so she could land her tight bottom between them and lean back against her older brother's right arm and chest.

"Hey, I thought we were talking?" she teased.

I felt as if she had caught me red-handed. And immediately realized two things. She was definitely not wearing a bra. And, despite the heavy denim of my jeans, there was no way I would be able to hide my growing erection from her.

But rather than continue talking, she turned around and faced the big screen, effectively nestling between my thighs to watch the unrolling of the scene. I was vague şahinbey escort bayan on the plot line, but basically the slave girl, now once again dressed in a loose flowing toga that revealed as much as it covered, was being led down toward the arena, where shirtless gladiators were being lined up in the sun, presumably to fight for her as prize. Raw sexual energy permeated every shot as sweat dripped along the muscled limbs.

Mandy pointed the remote at the screen like a power tool, and punched up the volume a couple of notches. Then she leaned back, her supple body curving against my own muscled legs and chest, in a way that somehow implied that my limbs were as equally powerful as the gladiators she was ogling. I had never felt so aware of my physical strength, as if my thighs and arms could crush her light frame between them. And aware that this was the last thing on earth I would let them do.

She craned around to gaze up at me.

"Does it shock you to hear that little sister masturbates?" She had slipped into a small-girl voice, and the contrast with the directness of her words zapped me like an electric charge.

I felt both hot and self-conscious. "Um, no. I mean, of course not."

"Even though it surprises you that visuals can be a turn on for us girls?" Her eyes widened, feigning an innocence betrayed by the flirting lilt of her lips.

"I...I just hadn't really thought about it."

She turned back toward the impending gladiator fight, with the half-naked slave girl as prominent witness. As she snuggled her curved spine against my hard torso, she spoke again, so softly I could barely hear her.

"Would it shock you to know that I'm turned on right now?"

I could smell her hair and feel the softness of her body against me. The conversation was rapidly spinning out of my control. My heart was beating hard but I couldn't think of a way to steer it in another direction. And the truth, I suppose, was that I didn't want to. I was pinned like a deer in the headlights of my little sister's sexual teasing, and I wanted to be.

Mandy shifted her hips and I was acutely aware that she must be able to feel the blood pulsing in my engorged cock. I tried to move but I was already pressed against the cushions at the back of the couch. She had put the remote down between her thighs, almost sitting on it, and the next thing I realized was that she had unzipped the front of her corduroy pants and slid the fingers of her right hand down into the Vee. She let out a soft gasp that went right through me like a knife. And then the only thing I was aware of was cradling my beloved Mandy as she started to stroke herself off. Subtly at first, but then more and more explicitly. She lolled her head back against me, and started lifting and squeezing her hips. Her left hand traced out over mine, slender fingers delicate and tentative, quivering, and before I had quite realized it, she had drawn it back with her own and slipped my broad palm under the soft folds of her top. I couldn't stop my own thighs spasming as I felt the naked skin of her belly, and then her fingers drawing my hand up to cup her breast. On autopilot, my thumb reached for her nipple and felt how much it had already lengthened from her flat chest. Sis gasped and bucked her hips in response, and must have hit the remote on the way back down, because the sound jumped up a couple of notches. Neither of us did anything about it, her cries now half drowned out by the sex and violence of the show.

I wrapped both arms around Mandy, and let myself unreservedly fondle her breasts, thrillingly naked under the satin top. My thumbs circled her still swelling nipples, mind blank except for the electric feel of her, and the screen to which we were both transfixed. My sister was now openly masturbating herself, quivering and moaning. The gladiators had begun to spar, bare limbs glistening in the sun, and the camera switched to the slave girl, head downturned but eyes lifted up on the men fighting for her body, the toga once again pulled down to flaunt the reward of her ample breasts.

"Oh god," I gasped. The night before had, in the secrecy of my room and the darkness, been sensual, intimate. Now, in the lights of the living room, the t.v. blaring out, my sister openly pleasuring herself as she leaned against me - she was raw, erotic, sexual beyond anything I had ever imagined.

There was a clash of metal, and we both watched a violent sword blow land across another weapon's naked edge. I felt that same blow plough through Mandy's frame. I realized that I was viscerally feeling not just her body but her inner response, my little sister's shameless arousal as she masturabated to these porn-laden images.

The figures spun away, and then moments later collided again with the pounding of iron and muscle. I clutched at my sister's young breasts as I felt her slender body tense into me with the impact. Amidst the violence, şahinbey bayan escort her fingers didn't stop moving. I could feel them curling inward as she lifted her hips higher.

The bare-breasted slave girl was shown again, now being forced by one of the guards to kneel, head pulled back by the hair, cleavage and throat exposed. I felt my cock stab upward into my sister's thigh. I pinched the base of her swollen nipples between thumb and forefingers, almost wanting to hurt her, and she cried out, quivering toward her peak.

Moments later she was bucking against my chest, hips spasming, whimpering with climax. As the gladiators fought on, she came again, harder. Eventually she slumped into my arms, leaving me painfully hard with arousal and at the same time flooded with protective love for her.

Suddenly she seemed so vulnerable, lying motionless in my arms. I reached past her thighs, which slackened further in response, inviting the probing of my hand. But eventually my trembling fingers found the remote and reluctantly I pulled it out and clipped down the sound. I held her tight, trying to calm my heartbeats. Or at least my voice.

"We need to be careful, Sis. We mustn't get too carried away."

I could feel the slackness in her limbs turn to a kind of deflation. Slowly she turned her head and I was pinned by her soft gaze. Eventually she spoke.

"What are you saying, John?"

It burned me to think of rejecting her in any way, and maybe hurting her again, so open and vulnerable and desirable. But, even though I hated the tone my dad used when he trotted out this, his favorite saying, I had to agree that sometimes someone had to be the adult in the room. Unfortunately for me, in this case it looked like that was going to have to be my job. In my own, slow way, I had been thinking during the last day. A magical and yet disorienting day with Mandy and my own feelings for her. I knew that what we were sharing was wrong. But wrong can vary all the way from naughty to...to just plain wrong. Maybe some of this was bringing us closer, and in that at least Mom would be happy. And god, I wanted her so much it blurred my eyesight, never mind my judgement. In the end, though, I knew I couldn't allow anything to happen that my virginal sister might regret the rest of her life.

I finally spoke.

"Just, you know, that we shouldn't...cross...the ultimate line."

Mandy's eyes perked up. She shifted around to look at me more directly, so that my palms slid across her breasts and cradled her narrow back. Her lips pursed. I could tell she in turn was thinking.

"And...what is that ultimate line John?"

Yup, that's my sis. Never underestimate her capacity for being direct.

"Just, you know..." Her eyes were on me relentlessly. I knew she was going to make me say it out loud. "You know, intercourse. Actual sexual intercourse."

There was a long pause.

"Is that it John? Is that the line? Is that what you would call, you know...incest."

I knew that she was toying with me, imitating my words, throwing them back at me. And I could see the triumph in her eyes. I knew from past tussles with my little sister that just drawing me into the open was all it took for her to count victory.

But it felt like there was something more at stake. I was so physically turned on. And she was so soft in my arms. I could smell the sex in the room from her orgasm, her whole body pulsing and available. I suddenly wondered who was the vulnerable one. Meanwhile, she was still thinking, her lips hovering between a hurt pout and a sly grin.

"Why Johnny? Why that line, exactly?" She bit her bottom lip as she gazed up at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

I wasn't sure she really expected an answer, but I felt I needed to speak or I would be undone.

"Uh, you know, it's...it's the real...I mean the ultimate..."

She was suddenly all mock seriousness. "But I don't understand? You've already told me you enjoy licking my panties - that is my wet-girl panties - right?" She made me nod in agreement. "Well, isn't that almost the same as licking my pussy, John? Or at least wanting to?"

It felt like I was being spun into some kind of web I couldn't yet see, a web of my own desires and of my earlier confessions.

"I...I suppose so..."

"Well, isn't that a kind of sex already?" my little sister asked with her best sweetly-innocent expression. "Isn't it oral sex?"

"Look, Sis, it's just..."

My words trailed off, but just then her expression relaxed, like she was giving me a break on teasing. Or perhaps she was masking her own subtle disappointment? That she had been hoping against hope for some other response from me? She drew closer. "Don't worry, John. I promise. I promise I'll never be the one to ask you to actually cross that line, to go all the way with me."

I knew she was ahead of me in some way, but I couldn't see how. Not that I could think with her nipples poking through the soft cloth of her top into my chest, and her mouth inches from mine. I don't know who moved first, but suddenly we were kissing each other like our lives depended on it. Her hot tongue was between my lips and my hands were all over her small breasts again. I wanted her like I've never wanted anything. She squirmed in my arms as she climbed deeper into my lap.