For the next few months I stayed in a state of confusion over my midnight visit to Dionne’s room. On one hand, I had not known it was her I was touching that night so I told myself it was an accident. But on the other hand, I was getting more of a charge out of reliving those memories now that I did know it had been her. I tried not to think about it but it was no use. I just couldn’t get how good she had felt out of my head. It was about this time the third incident started taking place.
I began to have erotic dreams about my sister. Not just once, and not the same dream. It got to where at least once a week I was having these wild, wet dreams where my sister and I were starring in our own little passion play. In my subconscious we performed every sexual act known to man, and it always ended the same way. Me waking up with an enormous erection and frustrated as shit that it had only been a dream. The first few times after these dreams I would masturbate forcing myself to think of some other girl, be it Michelle or someone else. But soon I didn’t even try to pretend anymore. I’d jerk off thinking only of Dionne. It always seemed better this way.
For a long time I felt guilty about my newfound emotions and I told myself it was just the effects of the accidental fondling and the dreams which I could not control. I assured myself that soon I would be back to normal. After all, I hadn’t planned this. She was my sister, for crying out loud, and you weren’t supposed to want to bone your sister. Now my Aunt Cecilia, that was a different matter… But that’s another story.
The trouble is, my feelings did not change and I did not “get back to normal.” As I said, I had an on again off again girlfriend at this time, and sometimes when we were fucking I would find myself fantasizing that she was Dionne. After one of these couplings Sheri told me that had been the best sex we had ever had. She said I had never screwed her that long and that hard before. I just told her that I loved her. How could I have told her that I had been pretending she was my sister the whole time?
Then one day while we were having yet another argument, Sheri said something derogatory about Dionne and I dumped her like a hot rock and we never got back together, although she tried to several times.
I began to think something was wrong with me. That I was some kind of a pervert, a deviant. But then I would see Dionne in a pair of shorts and a halter top, or I would see her first thing in the morning when she had just gotten up and she would only be wearing a T-shirt barely long enough to cover her panties. The large, dark circles of her titties straining against the flimsy material of her shirt. I realized I would be strange if I was not attracted to somebody this hot… Even if she was my sister. I decided to just go with my feelings and see where they led. Even then, though, I never expected them to lead me as far as they did.
Now she was 16 and about to finish her sophomore year of high school. While she was at school and my parents were away at work I began going into her room and going through her things. I have always had a panty fetish so I would rummage through her panty drawer and find her sexiest ones. I would imagine her wearing these and nothing else. I would lay on her bed which was never made from the night before and I would jack off into her panties. The first time I did this my conscience bothered me. I knew my incestuous feelings were wrong but the soft, satiny material of her panties felt so good against my cock that I could not help myself.
I would shoot my load into the crotch panel of her panties then I would rinse them out and put them into the hamper to be washed. Soon, that wasn’t enough. I began creaming into her undies and then I would rub my cum into the material, trying to keep it in the paneled area, so it would not be too obvious. Then I would put them back into her drawer underneath some unsoiled ones. It really turned me on to think about her wearing the panties I had fucked, my now dried spunk pressed tight against her pussy.
One day, after wanking off into my favorite red lace pair of hers again, I was nosing around in other parts of her room. By then I had shot off into all of her panties that I found appealing and the thrill of this was beginning to wear off. I was going through her closet, trying to find something else of hers that I could use in my fantasies when I found a small book on the back of the shelf. I took it down and looked at it. It was her diary. It was a cheap vinyl covered ones with flowers printed on it and her name emblazoned across the front. It had a tiny lock on it that she had secured. Thinking this might prove interesting, I tried to pick the lock. This took all of twenty seconds.
I thumbed through the usual dull schoolgirl shit until I came to the last few entries. What I read there made my heart pound and my limp dick again began to rise to attention. My little sister described in great detail about her first sexual intercourse, which, according to the date on the entry had just happened a few weeks before. She had lost her virginity to the boy she had been dating the last few times my parents let her go out, Donny. I already didn’t like that little motherfucker, I don’t know if it had been jealousy or what, but now I really despised him.
According to her diary, the two of them had gone to a party at one of his friend’s house and she had a few drinks, which I knew she wasn’t used to. Afterwards, he took her parking and practically forced himself on her. She wrote that he told her she had been leading him on only to leave him high and dry when he tried to go all the way. Knowing my sister, I knew she was not a prick tease but still I could sense his frustration at not being able to do it with her. As a matter of fact, I knew exactly how he felt.
I was frustrated too, not being able to actually do anything, or even having someone to talk to about the way I was feeling about Dionne. Who do you confide in that you have been wanting to screw your little sister?
But hell, at least he had been able to go out on real honest-to-God dates with her, kissing her, feeling her lips on his, her body pressed against his. So far he had it better than I ever thought I would where she was concerned. As I read the diary it made me mad as hell that he had coerced her into doing something she obviously was not ready to do. But, truth be told, it also made me as horny as a rhino thinking of Dionne in the back of a car, her luscious legs spread and some guy… any guy… ME!… sliding his cock into her cunt. I masturbated again, then and there, and left her room, taking the diary with me. I had an idea!
I picked her up in my car after school that afternoon, and I was intentionally cold toward her. She repeatedly asked me what was wrong, but I wouldn’t say. After much questioning all I would tell her is that I had found something out about her and that it was bothering me. We rode the rest of the way home in silence.
When we got home I went directly into my room and closed the door. After a bit, I heard her go into hers. I eased to her shut door and listened. I could hear her moving around in there. Usually, when she got home, she would turn on her stereo or call one of her girl friends on the phone. Today she didn’t. I could tell that what I had told her had upset her. After a couple of minutes of listening to her pace about in her room I heard her open her closet door and my pulse began to race. I could hear her sliding the clothes in her closet along the rod. I expect she was deciding on what to wear to school the next day. Suddenly, the sound stopped. In my mind’s eye I envisioned her looking up on the shelf and not seeing her diary in it’s accustomed place. My heart leapt into my throat. Hurriedly, I rushed back into my room and closed the door.
What would her reaction be, I wondered? Would she come screaming into my room, demanding the return of her private journal? Would she wait until our parents got home and tell them I had stolen her diary? If she did I could just imagine the shit that was going to hit the wall. I didn’t have to wait long until I got my answer.
A timid knock came at my door and cautiously she opened it. I was sitting on the edge of my bed holding the diary. All the color rushed out of her pretty face as she saw me. I felt my own face become hot and I prepared myself for World War III. But I was completely taken by surprise when she began to cry. She told me that she was ashamed of herself, that she felt like a pig for letting “that guy” use her like that.
I got some satisfaction out of the fact that she wouldn’t even call him by name.
Without me having said a word she dropped onto her knees in front of me and begged me not to tell our parents. At first, I felt like a real shit-heel. It had not even occurred to her to be mad at me for going into her room and stealing her most private possession. I had robbed her of her private thoughts and here she was pleading for my forgiveness and asking me not to get her into trouble. Yet as crappy as I felt about myself for having put her in this situation, I realized I had the upper hand in this ordeal.
I could feel my cock begin to stir in my pants. Here was this beautiful 16-year-old girl kneeling in front of me, her trembling hands on my knees, pleading with me, saying she would do anything if I just would not tell on her. God, I wanted to pick her up, throw her on my bed, and fuck the hell out of her then and there. But I didn’t have the nerve. Instead, I told her that I wouldn’t say anything for the time being and that maybe we could work something out. She took a little convincing, but at last she got up and thanked me. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Her moist, trembling lips felt like heaven on my flushed face. Summoning all the resistance I had I told her to go and we would not say anymore on the subject for now. Sheepishly, she left my room. As she walked out I admired her perfect ass and I knew what my terms for surrender were going to be.