4 Ocak 2021

“My Sister Savior”

Babes

NOTE: This story is fictional, and it was written entirely by me. All of the stories that are submitted by me to Literotica are my original creations. For all new stories that do not involve my own personal experience (such as this one), I prefer to utilize sequences that appear to be e-mail threads or bulletin board postings for logic, readability, and believability. Thank you.

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“My Sister Savior”

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Table of Contents:

Introduction

Chapter 1: The Crowded House

Chapter 2: Late Night Pillow Talk

Chapter 3: The Toxic Relationship

Chapter 4: Divorce

Chapter 5: Quiet Weeping

Chapter 6: Marci’s Lamentations

Chapter 7: Silent Ponderings

Chapter 8: Cuddle Buddies

Chapter 9: Beyond Cuddling

Chapter 10: Taboo Consummation

Chapter 11: Sunrise Delight

Chapter 12: Agnostic… or Not?

Chapter 13: Invitation… and Acceptance

Chapter 14: Role Reversals

Chapter 15: Epilogue

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Introduction

Hi, my name is Steffan Stratos. I enjoy giving advice to consenting adults on internet bulletin board websites regarding romantic sibling incest. Sometimes, readers will contact me, and ask if I want to read their story. I always say yes.

Displayed below is an interesting story entitled “My Sister Savior” which was submitted in April 2017 to me via e-mail from a fellow named Justin. The story details the relationship between Justin and his younger sister Marci. Per the recommended guidelines for publishing on Literotica, I broke up the story into chapters for easy reading.

Finally, many thanks to my Literotica editor: Zoomie69

Chapter 1: The Crowded House

Hello, my name’s Justin. This is the “My Sister Savior” story of how my younger sister Marci and I became a romantic couple. I consider Marci to be my sister savior, because she saved me from a life of loneliness. I’m 25, and Marci is 22.

It all started during the Christmas holidays in December 2015.

I was visiting my parents for a week at their house in Oregon after traveling from my condo in Houston, Texas.

Marci was attending the local college part-time and studying psychology. She was also working part-time as a cashier at Walmart, and was wondering what to do with her life. She was still living with our parents at their house.

Lots of other family members had arrived, and the house was crowded. So Marci volunteered that she and I could sleep together in her bedroom, which had a full size bed. Without hesitation, I agreed. Nobody raised an eyebrow.

The first night in bed together, Marci and I weren’t sleepy… so we began whispering about our lives to each other across our pillows.

I’d been divorced a few months previously after being married for only a year. Marci wanted to know ALL of the details, since I had not told anyone anything… except that my wife and I had “irreconcilable differences”.

Marci said that she’d tell me everything about her life if I would tell her everything about my life… although I told her didn’t really want to be sticking my big nose into her private life. Marci had always seemed to have problems when trying to find a serious BF, and she told me that there didn’t seem to be any good prospects on the horizon. She begged me to tell her everything that went wrong with my marriage, because she thought it would be a bunch of good learning lessons for her.

Initially I resisted Marci’s questioning, but finally relented. I agreed to tell Marci everything as long as she promised to not blab stuff to anyone else, and cautioned her that some of the details might be graphic. Marci said “No problem, Justin. I’m almost 21 years old! You can trust me.”

Chapter 2: Late Night Pillow Talk

So I quietly explained to Marci how my wife Karen and I had gotten along great during the engagement before we were married. Both of us were virgins, and neither of us had ever dated anyone else.

Instead of seeing red flags due to our 100% lack of experience in the realm of intimate relationships, Karen and I both thought that the “pure-as-the driven-snow” aspect of our lives was wonderfully romantic. We did fool around sexually a little bit with each other, and Karen did some wet humping on my erect penis… which I greatly enjoyed.

However, Karen refused to kiss me for any longer than she could hold her breath (which she said was about two seconds)… plus, her kisses were fast and dry.

Other activities forbidden by Karen were fondling. I was not permitted to fondle Karen’s breasts or her pussy, because her private areas were “too sensitive”.

The pussy being forbidden actually didn’t surprise me too much. Karen’s Venus mound wasn’t smooth like the majority of nude ladies that I’d seen on the internet, nor did she have a nice bush of pubic hair (which I visually preferred to the bald pussy anyway).

Karen had clipped all her pubic hair off down to a rough stubble. güvenilir bahis I knew that her pubic area down there was a rough stubble, because of the one time I had felt it before having my hand slapped away.

Did I ask Karen any questions about her hesitation to passionately kiss me? Or why she wouldn’t breath on me? Why she removed most of her public hair and left that annoying stubble?

No, I didn’t ask… and that silence was a huge mistake on my part.

Foolishly, I had assumed that the reasons for all of the sexual restrictions Karen enforced were due to her Catholic upbringing. I foolishly assumed that once the wedding night had made sexual pleasures “legal in the eyes of God”, then all of our sexual issues (or more accurately… MY sexual concerns) would be magically resolved.

Of course… that’s not what happened.

Predictably, the wedding night and every night thereafter was a complete disaster from my perspective.

If I thought that our sexual activities were restricted prior to the wedding night, was I ever in for a big surprise.

The sexual and romantic activities that Karen permitted after the wedding night were pretty much less than zero except for intercourse.

There was no romance, no foreplay, no more wet humping, and the rare kisses were even faster and drier. My hands were pushed away from all attempts at caressing anywhere on her body… once again, which Karen claimed as being “too sensitive”.

We never French kissed even one time. My requests for Karen to kiss me wetly, to kiss me for longer than two seconds, to suck on my lips, to use tongue, and to breath while kissing were all rebuffed as being “perversions that only people in x-rated movies do to each other”.

I was allowed perhaps maybe a minute to try and masturbate myself inside of Karen’s pussy… which was rarely lubricated sufficiently for my penis to even slide inside.

Most of the time, my erection would deflate because I didn’t feel welcome or wanted… and also due to the fact that Karen would always turn her head away from me. It was as though I was trying to have sex with an unwilling corpse.

Karen would not allow any sort of lubrication on her pussy or on my penis. No product (such as KY jelly), no water, no spit from my mouth or hers, no oral, and no foreplay to try and get her excited.

No genital fondling, either… Karen claimed that she was too ticklish for anything like that. She also refused to fondle my penis without any explanation, despite being asked.

I complained about the lack of romance, which Karen laughed at and informed me that I was insane. She also told me that I didn’t pray enough, that I didn’t read my Bible enough, and that I must not be following God’s will.

Due to my unhappiness in the marriage, we visited 2 Christian counselors from distant churches where nobody knew us (because Karen didn’t want anyone to know there were problems in our marriage). Both counselors were completely worthless, IMHO. For some reason, they flatly refused to discuss my main complaint (which was the total lack romance and zero sexual intimacy), although they did spend a lot of time telling me that I needed to pray more and read the Bible more.

Under my questioning during the sessions, Karen insisted that she had never been molested or abused. She also denied being a lesbian.

Chapter 3: The Toxic Relationship

The first year of our marriage seemed to drag by slowly. The more I evaluated the toxic relationship between Karen and me, the angrier I became.

The fact that Karen would only grudgingly give me a minute of sexual activity pissed me off royally. My anger was made even worse by the fact that Karen spent unlimited time, money, and effort whenever the church needed something… anything. It didn’t matter. If the church needed something or someone, Karen was there to fill the need.

Well, what about my needs? Perhaps one minute was grudgingly allowed by Karen, and then I was asked to get off of her.

My requests for French kissing and cuddling? “Only perverts do that stuff, Justin” was Karen’s response.

My requests that we shower together and wash each other? “Forget it” was the answer Karen gave.

My requests for cuddling, whispering, and caressing each other’s bodies? “No thanks” was Karen’s response.

My requests for ear nibbling and nuzzling noses? “WTF, Justin?!?!? You’re not in high school anymore. Grow up.” That’s how Karen phrased it.

My requests to fondle and lick her breasts? “No, they’re too sensitive for anything like that” were the words that I heard.

My requests that we discuss my requests in detail? “Absolutely not… please just shut up, Justin” was what Karen said.

My suggestions that we find a counselor or clinic who specialized in sexual issues? “There’s nothing wrong with me… go by yourself and talk to someone if you want discuss perversions” are the words that came out of Karen’s mouth.

My bringing flowers, cards, doing chores, going to the mall, and trying to make Karen türkçe bahis happy did nothing to improve anything sexually with her.

Chapter 4: Divorce

Marci listened as I explained that after a year of matrimony, I filed for divorce because of my loneliness caused by being married to:

1). An asexual cold tomato;

2). A molestation victim, or;

3). A lesbian in denial.

I never was able to figure out the problem with Karen, and she consistently denied having any sexual problem whatsoever.

Karen didn’t contest anything during the divorce, although she was humiliated. She cried and tried to talk me out of divorcing her, but it was too late… I had grown to literally hate Karen and I hated everything about her.

Even though I had somehow managed to ejaculate inside Karen’s pussy a few times, it felt to me as though our marriage had never been consummated. Whenever we had sex, in order to keep my erection it was necessary for me to pretend that I was with a partner who enjoyed being intimate with me. My fantasy partners were never Karen or any variation of her.

After sex or attempted sex, Karen would always immediately jump up and race into the shower… as though she needed to wash away whatever residue I might have deposited on her or inside her.

My requests that she remain in bed and cuddle with me after sex were unilaterally rebuffed without discussion.

There was never a sense that Karen and I were anything more than complete strangers, IMHO. Masturbation by myself was the only genuine sexual relief that I had ever enjoyed, because my fantasy partners didn’t ignore me and they didn’t lay there like a corpse with their faces turned away from mine.

Before the wedding night, at least I felt a nice connection and a special closeness with Karen because she wet humped on me. But from the wedding night forward, she flatly refused to wet hump on me ever again. There was no explanation. Karen’s method of “addressing” my concerns were with zero discussion, waving me away, reading me Bible verses, or telling me to pray. Begging on my part did no good whatsoever. The answer was always a concrete “No!”.

Being married to a self-proclaimed “strong Christian lady filled with the Holy Spirit” caused me to lose all faith in God, and I become an agnostic.

To be honest, I also felt as though I was still a virgin.

Luckily, Karen never got impregnated during our brief marriage.

My closing statements to Marci were that I hadn’t dated anyone since the divorce was finalized, that I had no desire to date, and that celibate loneliness was preferable to the constant rejection I had been forced to endure. Then I reminded Marci that all of my comments about Karen were to remain confidential between us.

Chapter 5: Quiet Weeping

Towards the end of my monologue, Marci had begun to weep quietly while listening to the facts of my life being whispered to her in the darkness.

After I’d finished lamenting about my problems, Marci sniffled for a minute before whispering a few sentences.

“Justin, that’s so sad. You deserve to have been loved… and to be loved now… or at least be loved in the future. Why aren’t you crying, too?”

My response was simply “I never cried because I hated being married to Karen. Hatred and tears don’t just seem to be compatible, in my humble opinion. When we divorced, I felt a sense of happiness and relief… not sadness. The prison that I’d been trapped in for a year was gone. I was free.”

Another minute passed silently as Marci gathered her thoughts. Then she whispered “Wow, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, Justin. I don’t blame you for not wanting to stay with Karen, although the rest of us all liked her and we were surprised by the sudden divorce. But nobody ever knows what goes on behind closed doors, right?”

“You’re right, Marci. But you don’t need to bare your soul to me. I don’t need to know stuff about your private business.”

“Aw, Justin… you’ve always been such a sweetheart. Thank you for being so noble and thoughtful. You’re my favorite brother, and you always have been. I don’t mind baring my soul to you. Just give me a moment to catch my breath, OK?”

“No problem, Marci.”

Chapter 6: Marci’s Lamentations

I waited patiently until Marci began to whisper about her trials and tribulations that she had experienced within the realm of trying to find romance.

What did I learn? That Marci had never had a serious BF, that she’d never had a French kiss, and that she was still a virgin. Those facts were all her choice, because Marci explained she’d been on numerous dates and several guys had confessed to crushing on her.

But Marci flatly refused to become seriously involved with any of the guys she dated.

I whispered a few questions… “Why didn’t you ever want to get involved with any of those guys, Marci? Were the guys jerks? Demanding sexual favors without any commitment? Unattractive? Losers? Lazy? Too fat? No ambition? Drug addicts? Alcoholics? Rude? Arrogant? Selfish penny-pinchers? güvenilir bahis siteleri Psychopaths? Liars? Players? Cheaters? Or… are you a lesbian?”

Marci’s response was not one that I had expected… nor had I ever heard of the specific issue as being a blockage to romance.

“All of the guys were addicts, Justin. All of them. But it wasn’t drugs or booze. Nor was it porn. Nope. They were all addicted to their CELL PHONES. I’d ask them to PLEASE turn off their phones… or ask them to PLEASE stop checking their text messages constantly. None of them were willing to honor my request. NONE! Not even one guy. I didn’t enjoy being a distant second to a stupid little crap box of technology, so that became my main focus when looking for a guy. I evaluated their addictions to technology… and all of the guys failed miserably. The impression I got was that every single guy thought that my time with them was basically worthless compared to their stupid phones. So I never even let any of them kiss me deeply, fondle me, or fool around with me. Never. Several of the guys wanted to fool around with me, but I always refused.”

“Is that it, Marci? Seriously? Cell phones? Nothing more?”

“Yup. Seriously. Nothing more, Justin. Maybe cell phone addiction is a stupid yardstick to use, but that’s where I’ve drawn the line. Cell phone addiction is my pet peeve. As of today, I pretty much hate all cell phones.”

Now it was my turn to be silent for a minute and ponder what I’d been told, and then I began to whisper my thoughts.

“Actually, Marci… I think that you’re doing everything right. Falling in love with a guy addicted to his cell phone would be definitely be annoying… “

Marci interrupted and whispered “I’ve always liked the simple fact that you’re not tethered to your phone, Justin. If you weren’t my brother, I’d DEFINITELY be asking you out on a date and be trying to seduce you… does that sound weird? I don’t think so… ehhh. Maybe I’m saying too much here… although I do enjoy watching Game of Thrones where the brother and sister are a couple… and I think that you and I would make a great pair of taboo lovers… like maybe tonight… ”

Her words trickled down to nothing, and there was silence between us except for the sound of our breathing.

Marci’s words caught me off-guard. I’d never thought of Marci sexually before this moment. Why should I ever have thought about her like that? A brother isn’t supposed to think of his sister sexually.

Chapter 7: Silent Ponderings

In the darkness, I pondered romantic and sexual attractiveness for a few moments.

To the casual observer, Karen would probably be considered to be a vastly more attractive female when compared to Marci. Karen was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes, perfect porcelain skin, and an amazing body.

On the other hand, Marci was average looking… she had an okay body, a normal face, green eyes, and a head full of bushy dishwater blonde hair that had always seemed to look as though it needed to be combed or brushed. Ever since I was little, Marci’s bushy hair had reminded me of the dried hay that gets fed to farm animals. Plus, her thighs had always seemed just a little bit too thick to me.

But after a disastrous marriage and the subsequent divorce, I’d learned that beauty is only skin deep… while ugly goes clear to the bone.

For the first time, I had to admit to myself that my own sister Marci was a far more attractive female to me than Karen was or ever would be… romantically and sexually. The only problem was the brother-sister taboo.

Chapter 8: Cuddle Buddies

A few moments later, Marci’s whispered voice brought me back to reality… which was the fact that I was lying in bed under the covers next to my younger sister in the quiet darkness. Suddenly, I realized that Marci had just given me an inadvertent erection by making a few whispered statements.

“Justin, I’m lonely and I wanna cuddle with you. I’ve never cuddled with a guy before, and tonight I choose you to be my first cuddle-buddy. Here and now. I love you; I trust you; please don’t push me away or tell me no. You deserve to be cuddled by a girl who will appreciate you and react positively to your touch… “

My whispered reply was blunt: “Yeah OK, Marci… but I’ve got an erection because of what you just said about wanting to date me and seduce me. Sorry!! No one has ever said that to me before. That’s why I’m gonna keep my hips away from you, so please don’t feel hurt or insulted if it doesn’t seem to be a full-on cuddle session, and…”

Marci’s reply was entirely non-verbal, but nothing more needed to be said. We were initially lying side-by-side facing each other, not touching yet, and then she quickly maneuvered her body up close right against mine.

Everything happened so fast, but at the same time it seemed to unfold in slow-motion.

Chapter 9: Beyond Cuddling

Marci seemed to take great delight in the fact that she had given me an erection, and she made a special effort to maneuver herself so she could feel it pushing against her Venus mound. We held each other close, caressed each other’s backs and shoulders. Marci’s hand slowly moved lower, and began rubbing my butt. I decided to do the same to her.

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