[ENF] Hanging out with the Sister

[viridian]

This isn't so much a story as it is a series of fantasy scenarios based off a real relationship with my girlfriend, "Lisa" and her younger sister "Di". I mentioned it in another topic and thought I'd share some interesting "thoughts" for the community to enjoy


***

Every Friday, I played indoor soccer with the guys from work. I was never an athlete and only did it for my weekly physical activity, and to get some good mate-time with my colleagues. I always looked forward to after the match, since I spent the rest of the evening with Lisa. Mostly, I just hung around at her place, where she lived with her family. Her mum and dad lived with her, along with a baby brother, a teenage brother and her sister, Di, who had recently finished school and started a hospitality course at university. Lisa was a year younger than me - 24 - and Di was just turning 20. They were very similar to each other to the point where most people had trouble telling them apart, though to me they were clearly two different people. The confusion was probably because we were all Vietnamese and everyone else has difficulty telling us apart from each other!

Both Lisa and Di were about the same height and they were close to each other. Both had unusually darker, tanned skin and both were short -- around 155cm in height or less. Lisa was the slimmer of the two, though she had broader shoulders that Mum said looked masculine, but I saw nothing wrong with it. She was comfortable with her body, though she was envious of her sister's boobs: Lisa was bordering on a B-cup while Di was easily a D. Di was stockier, though she had lost a bit of weight from her holiday. She was shy about her body image compared to Lisa, especially when the parents commented on her weight.

Di had been overseas for the past month, so Lisa and I made the most the quiet when we had the chance to see each other. Her parents and siblings never bothered us when we closed her door, and we had plenty of sex -- not easy when you come straight from a soccer match! At times Di, when she was around, would sometimes barge in and we'd hastily rearrange the sheets to look like we weren't doing anything even though it was obvious we were naked under the sheets. I always wondered if she knew and what she thought about it.

Anyway, I arrived at her place slightly early. It was the last day of term and we started and finished our match earlier than usual, so I popped over to Lisa's. The family normally left the front door open to allow their frequent visitors to pop in. Dad always worked in the restaurant until around 9:30pm, her brother normally stayed with his friends until late and Mum's car wasn't in the driveway, so I assumed that Lisa was home. I entered, left my shoes by the door and walked through the kitchen down the hallway towards her room. Lisa's room was located at the very end, but to get there we had to walk through Di's room. Di was overseas, so the room was empty. There was someone in the shower -- and with no one else home, I had to assume it was Lisa. I crept by and got undressed in her bedroom, wanting to surprise her when she got out of the shower.

It turned out that Di had returned from the airport just before I arrived, and my god, we had the shock of our lives when she walked into Lisa's room with a towel around her hair and one around her body. We were just as surprised to see each other right there and then. Lisa had actually gone out with her friends and was coming home late, leaving Di alone in the house. What made it funnier was that Di always got changed in the bathroom. However, she had thrown all her clothes in the wash and, assuming that no one was in the house, and came into Lisa's room to use the heater to warm herself.

After our initial surprise, she went red-faced into her room to get something from her closet. She closed the door behind her while I quickly slipped back into my clothes, hoping that she didn't realise I was naked in wait for her sister. After I got dressed, I hung around for a while, waiting for Di to finish. She popped her head through the door again.

"Um, I've got a problem."

She had removed the towel around her hair, but she was still clutching the towel around her body. I entered her room to find that her closet was empty. I quickly pieced together what had happened. Di never owned a lot of clothing for everyday use. She brought most of her clothing with her when she went overseas, which was now all in the wash. While she was gone, Mum had taken the liberty of cleaning out her room, which involved throwing out all the old items -- including clothes that were too old or wouldn't fit Di, which in Mum's subjective eyes, was practically everything that remained. Not even any underwear remained.

We had a chuckle about it. We sat around laughing out our ill-fortune. Di and I were good friends and got along well. She had never been naked in front of anyone and she was showing signs of discomfort wearing only a towel. We were content just talking when she suddenly remembered that she had to buy groceries for Mum -- and she couldn't do that without her clothes!

I suggested raiding Lisa's closet, which Di eagerly did so. I waited patiently in Di's room. Lisa, however, was a lot smaller and few items would fit Di. She also hated wearing pants or jeans and preferred dresses or skirts. When Di came out, she was wearing a very tight yellow top that hugged her ample figure so tightly that you could make out her nipples; and a black pleated skirt that stopped just above her knees. I nearly choked. She wasn't wearing a bra and, presumably, no panties. She didn't bounce around much and, if she held the hem down, she could get away without exposing herself indecently. We went out together to collect the groceries, with Di hoping that nothing worse would happen.

Except, it was an autumn day. It was cold, and the dark clouds signalled rain.

Luckily we did most of our shopping at the Asian grocery a few minutes down the road. We got most of the supplies without incident. I even picked up the frozen items for her to avoid further embarrassment. In fact, it seemed like she was going to get away with her risque shopping without anyone noticing. After half an hour we had our hands full with bags of groceries for the family. Then Di froze.

It was raining.

With no umbrella and our hands occupied, we had to run back to the house. Di ran as fast as she could, but her clothes were soaked all the way through in seconds. Her yellow top darkened rather than turn transparent, but her dark nipples were easily visible. Worse, her chest jiggled as she ran heavy-footed, weighed down by the grocery bags, and her short skirt flapped up. From behind, I could see her bare ass underneath. We dashed across the road without looking. A car honked madly at us and angrily sped by, showering Di as it drove through a large puddle. She was flustered, more so when her skirt got caught on one of the vegetables sticking out of the bag. I briefly sighted her thick dark bush while fixing her up. We decided to take our time to walk back rather than risk further exposure. She reluctantly did so, arms full and her top hiding little. A couple of cars heading in the opposite direction honked at her, but we kept on walking.

When we got home, she ran into her room and cried. I got a towel for her and helped dry her, cuddling her and trying to comfort her. We had a chuckle about it again and I joked that there wasn't much to see anyway. She felt better soon afterwards, especially when I said it was kind of sexy, which she also laughed at. She sat casually with me on her bed, no ashamed or embarrassed in front of me now. I suggested that she take another warm shower before Mum got home and asked what happened.

While she was in the shower, Lisa came home. She was surprised when I threw her onto the bed, stripped off her clothes and started banging her like crazy. She enjoyed every moment of it -- but I never told her what happened!

[viridian]

When Di studied hospitality, she lived on campus at the university, an hour's train ride from the city. She stayed at an old historic mansion owned by the university, which she shared with several roommates. The grounds were gorgeous and they had plenty of privacy. Di liked it there, though a couple of her roommates were quite obnoxious. As the only hospitality student, she often did the cooking, being the only one there who knew how to cook anything other than ramen.

Di would return home by train every weekend to spend time with the family. This time no one was home and Lisa was at her dance lesson, so I offered to meet Di in the city. I met with her at the station. As usual, she left all of her belongings at the university and was empty-handed. She wore a dark grey dress with short sleeves, buttons down the middle and a cloth belt. I offered to buy her a drink and we went to the coffee shop, where we had a chat about how things were going.

"Oh my god," she blurted out during out conversation. "You won't believe what my fucking roommates did."

"Hm?" I replied. She only swore when she was really, really angry. She told me of what happened the previous night, when they were having a movie and games night. Di couldn't drink because of her condition and was content to clean up and get the roommates not to do anything too stupid. While she was helping someone in the bathroom, someone had done a panty raid.

"They took ALL my underwear," she hissed, stressing her words. "I was fucking PISSED."

"Did you get it back?"

"NO." She gritted her teeth. "It was SO embarrassing."

"What was?" I kind of knew what she was getting at, but I wanted to tease it out of her. She looked down and started to blush. She wasn't wearing anything underneath her dress. Though the fabric was thick, her nipples were faintly visible and her breasts could be gleamed through the gap between the buttons. Worse, her skirt was mid-thigh in length and was slit down the front. While I was amused, I noticed that there were other glances from around the coffee shop.

"We should go," I said. I nodded towards her chest. She mouthed "oh shit", realising that her nipples were visible. We made a hasty retreat to the station. I walked in front of her and held her hand to avoid drawing too much attention while she held her skirt down. We had a risque moment when we went up the escalator, but thankfully no one took any notice of Di's embarrassment.

We got on the suburban train as soon as it arrived on the platform. It was peak-hour and we were crammed in like sardines. Di was pushed against the door while I was right behind her, one hand bracing against the door jammed between her body and the glass, while my other hand held us steady on the bar. It was an awkward moment for sure, and Di wanted to get home as soon as she could. She had claustrophobia and the packed train was starting to make her feel anxious. What was meant to be a 20 minute trip went wrong when the train stopped soon after we left the station. There had been an incident down the line and we had to wait until the driver was given the green light.

I noticed Di was breathing heavily. She was on the verge of panic.

"Is there something I can do?" I asked.

"Just take my mind off things," she said. "I need to get out."

I had an idea. It was a little silly, but I knew it would work. "Don't tell Lisa about this."

At first she was confused, but then she felt something move against her torso. My left hand, which had been pinned against the door, pushed against her left breast. My fingers brushed over her nipple. Her body suddenly shook. "Shh," I whispered into her ear. "Just take your mind off where you are."

I squeezed gently, letting her feel my fingers through the fabric of her dress. Her large, D-cup breasts were much softer than Lisa's and felt heavier. I cupped one and pressed on it, closing my fingers over her hardening nipple and rubbing it gently. Di had never been touched there before, and the feelings going through her body now was something she had never experienced before. I took it slow, not wanting to overwhelm her. It was definitely keeping her mind off the situation though, and while I felt a little dirty groping my girlfriend's sister on the train, I felt partly justified in doing so. Her breathing grew heavy as she closed her eyes and leaned into me. She pressed against the bulge in my pants and I gulped. I slipped my fingers between her buttons and felt her flesh. Her skin was rough, but the soft breast was appealing nonetheless. I couldn't fit through and couldn't touch her other nipple, and I went back to massaging her breast from the outside. She said nothing during this. I noticed her own hand slipping down into the slit of her skirt. I knew she was enjoying this.

We were stuck for only ten minutes, but they felt like very long minutes. We stopped as soon as the train moved. I glanced around quickly, relieved that no one had noticed. All faces were stuck in newspapers, eyes closed with iPods in their ears or otherwise glancing aimlessly out the windows impatiently. The rest the journey continued with incident. The train emptied as we got closer to our stop, making it easier to for Di to breathe. We even managed to get a seat by the window before our stop.

"Hey, you alright?" I asked as we walked home.

"Yeah," she replied. After a moment, she added, "Thanks."

As I slept with Lisa that night, I could make out some faint moaning in Di's room next door. I snuggled into Lisa and started feeling her up. "You've been pretty horny recently," she said to me. I said nothing as I kissed her and took off her top.

[viridian]

Things seemed to be heating up with Di. I had a busy month afterwards and couldn't over to see them, which helped cool things down. I was anxious about how Di was feeling after the last encounter. She turned out okay, though we avoided speaking about it, pretending as if it never happened. Lisa was beginning to question why my sex drive was suddenly so high, but that was the most of my concerns. Things between the three of us continued amiably as they do. Sooner or later, I knew, I'd get into another intimate situation with Di.

This next story is more on the incredible side.

Lisa wanted to do a costume photo-shoot and we offered to help scope out some possible locations. Lisa had an appointment, so Di and I went by ourselves. I took a camera with me to snap the places and angles we could use. Di wore a patterned white t-shirt and the same black pleated skirt she wore in our first awkward encounter -- this time there no "irregularities" with her clothing, so I felt comfortable knowing that nothing embarrassing was going to happen.

We caught the train, arriving at an abandoned brickworks on the outskirts of the city. The place was surrounded by industrial buildings and warehouses, though the site itself had been abandoned long ago and was in a derelict state. It was that run-down appearance that made the site appealing when we first heard of it. The walls were caked in bright graffiti; windows were missing and the steel frame of the building was exposed and twisted in some parts. Corrugated iron sheets formed makeshift walls; rusty barrels dotted the yard and the interior consisted of a maze of walkways and stairs. There was no machinery in the brickworks, but the rusty remnants still remained. Chains and hooks still hung from the tall ceiling. The place smelled of metal and had a pretty strong draught blowing through most of the time.

"This is one hell of a building," I said to Di as I took photos. "Would make a great movie scene."

"It feels scary," she said, "like it's haunted or something. It's like there's someone watching me."

It wasn't haunted, but someone definitely was watching us. Unknown to us, the abandoned factory was used by gangs as a meeting place, where they would do their deals, traffic drugs and generally hide away from prying eyes. Our entry to the brickworks had been spotted, and they were curious about the two visitors poking around with a camera. I heard a shout from around the corner. "Hey, what are you chinks doing here?" The voice came from a skinny young man wearing a grey tank top. Beside him were three other guys dressed in ripped denim and wearing muscle shirts, some obviously spending most of their meager earning on gym memberships and protein drinks.

"We're just taking photos," I replied. I knew this wasn't to go too well. This side of town was known for its gang violence. My side of town had that reputation as well, but I stayed clear of those juvenile circles to the point where it seemed like a boogeyman story. We were, however, obviously on their turf. The skinny guy strode right up to me.

"That' a nice camera there," he said. "How much that cost?"

"Not that much."

He sn*tched it out of my hands. "Sony. 1080p high-definition video camcorder. Saw one of these in the shop. Two grand. Nice ****." He pointed the camera at us, shoving the lens close to Di's face before stepping out of reach. "Anti-shake. Very nice. Good taste in cameras."

At this point the other men had surrounded us and they produced knives from their pockets, flicking them nonchalantly and twirling them around their fingers with impressive skill. One stood in front of me and held his blade out cautiously while two moved towards Di. One held his knife close to her throat. She stared at him straight in the eye. Di was not an expert fighter, but she had a reputation in school for her hands dirty when she was rubbed the wrong way. She wouldn't be afraid to break noses. However, I knew she'd get herself hurt and she probably sensed my caution. I wasn't trained in fighting techniques either, and it was too risky with four of them armed with knives. Asian I was; Jackie Chan I was not.

"Let's have a bit of fun with this," the skinny guy said. He started to film Di. Without a word, the guy behind her grabbed her breast. She screamed and struggled, but stopped when she felt the blade press against her throat. The man continued to fondle her. "Nice tits," he hissed, pinching them hard. Di groaned involuntarily. I gulped. Not even I was that rough, and seeing her being molested made me sweat. "Shame we can't see more of those beauties," he continued. "How about we make this top a bit more revealing?" Di stifled a scream the other man slid his knife down her t-shirt and started it tearing it down the middle, exposing her bra. She was wearing a white lace one that barely covered her nipples. The men were drooling, and all this was being caught on camera. The man stopped short of cutting all the way through. Instead, he slid the knife beside her thigh and up her skirt. She shuddered from the cold steel, but dared not move in fear of cutting herself.

"Please, no..." she begged.

There was a quick snip. Her underwear dropped to the ground - a tiger-print g-string. That drew a few whistles, turning into wild calls as they lifted her skirt to show her thick bush. She squirmed as they continued to play with her breasts, and her crotch began to dampen from the arousal. All of this was captured on tape.

Meanwhile, I hadn't realised that the man guarding me was actually talking to me. All eyes were directed at Di, including mine. "Hey," he called out again. "You speak English? Give me your phone and wallet."

I reached into my pocket for my phone. I stepped forward to pass the phone to him. The others were slowly tearing off Di's shirt. As I handed the phone over, I seized the man's wrist with my other hand, yanked him closer and delivered a stunning elbow to his jaw followed by another elbow to send him to the concrete. In one movement, I reached into my pocket and felt for the loose change I usually carried. Out they flung, several coins, hurling aimlessly towards the others. They all missed and clinked onto the ground, but they had their desired effect. In the split second they took to flinch, I dashed towards the nearest thug, leapt and kneed him the face. Di caught on wrestled her assailant down, smashing his face with her elbow and kicking him in the groin. I helped her up and we both made a run for it, the skinny camera guy in pursuit. We ran up the nearest flight of stairs leading up into the old offices. On the way up, I grabbed one of the hanging hooks and swung it back, clobbering our pursuer. The others were beginning to stand up and chased us upstairs.

Like the outside, the top of the building consisted of twisted metal. A rebar sticking out of the wall nearly took off my arm as I dashed by. The building had been torched by arsonists a few years ago and walls and ceilings showed the charred remains of the blaze. Concrete fragments and glass crunched underneath our feet. Di’s ripped shirt caught onto a metal bar, tearing it off completely.

We reached the end of the hall and turned to run down the stairs. However, two of the men we knocked down earlier were running up the stairs at the same time. Di, who was ahead of me, bumped into them. She struggled as they tried to seize her, shaking one off and turning to run back up. Her shoes got caught in the old metal steps and she fell, twisting her ankle. The men grabbed her legs and pulled her down. I leapt over the top of Di and caught the man around the neck, pulling him to the ground. We rolled down the stairs, collecting the second man with us. He reached to grab for something, his hand clasping the hem of Di’s skirt. She yelped and hung onto the handrail. Her skirt gave way, exposing her entire lower body for all to see.

The men didn’t get to see her most private part. The one I caught slammed his head against the concrete on the way down. I shoved the over one off me. He swung around and kicked at my face, but I blocked it and pulled him off balance. Out flashed his knife. He had a cut over his eye from the fall and his nose was bleeding. He stood off cautiously and lashed conservatively. I kept my stance firm, enticing him to attack me. I feinted forward and he scampered back. Impatient, he lunged again. Predicting this, I leapt out of the way. At the same time, I grabbed my camera bag from around my shoulders and used the strap to catch his hand, wrapping it around his wrist. I rolled under his arm and followed through by shoving my shoulder against his abdomen. His momentum carried him over and his body slammed into the ground. I gave the arm another twist and kicked him in the elbow. There was a distinct crack. He yelled in agony.

Upstairs, Di was grappling with the skinny guy who had been chasing us. During the melee her bra had been ripped off and she was now completely naked. Her adversary was doing everything her could to break free. He managed to distract her by squeezing her breast and reaching for her crotch. Taking advantage, he flipped her around so that she was in a forward prone position with her bare butt in the air. Di was stunned. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him staring right at her moist, exposed vagina. She shuddered as his fingertips rubbed against her clitoris. She tried to kick him away, but pain shot up through her ankle.

He didn’t get the chance to go further. I stormed into the room and kicked him squarely across the head. He was instantly knocked out.

I hauled Di to her feet. Seeing her naked (and in hindsight, it was the first time I had ever seen her naked), I gave her my jacket, which only just covered her body. We limped down the steps, ignoring the thugs who were now groaning on the floor with fractured skulls or broken limbs. We got out of the brickworks and into the street, where we signalled for help. Pedestrians soon flocked around us to help us out. By chance one of them was an off-duty policemen who promptly called for immediate help. It was a relief that we had survived the ordeal. The worst injury was to Di’s modesty – unable to walk, she was left exposed to all who stopped to help until we were able to get a ride home in a police van.

As a bonus prize, however, I had picked up my camera on the way out. I was asked to provide the video recording as evidence by the police. I watched it when I got home. Though it was an honestly scary experience, I now had a high-definition video of my girlfriend’s hot sister being forced to strip. Talk about a reward!

[jamsicator]

Nice stories - keep up the good work!

[viridian]

A week later, Di turned up at my house. I was surprised by this. While I frequently visited their place, Di had only come over to my house once to pick something up. I could guess why she wanted to come and talk after everything that happened at the brickworks. She was fine and seemed cheerful, but had a look in her eye that signalled to me that there was something that was still tormenting her mind. We sat down on the couch in my living room – my bedroom was normally out of bounds except for her sister – and started to chat about how things were going. She was still a little shaken up from the ordeal. She was wearing a plain long-sleeve top and jeans, which provided no eye candy, so I focused on the conversation.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked, sensing that she was taking the long way to get to her point.

“I want to know how to defend myself,” she said.

“You did a pretty good job,” I replied. Di had a lot of physical strength and hit very hard, as I had heard from many schoolyard stories from Lisa. She was able to wrestle with one of the guys that were attacking us and as far as I was concerned did the right thing by not resorting to violence as a first option. Di persisted. “I don’t want to be in that situation again. I want to know what to do if someone tried to do that to me.”

“Fair enough,” I replied. “Self-defence classes?”

She shook her head. “I can’t afford them, and I don’t have the patience. I want to learn something useful and quickly, not wait for coloured belts and breaking boards.” I made a point that not all martial arts were for show, but she continued. “Look, I want you to help me.”

I was taken aback by this request. “Me? I don’t know any martial arts.” That was kind of true – I was trained in several self-defence courses many years ago and knew the basics of grappling and blocking, but never had a more disciplined form of training. Di explained. “You know what you were doing back there, and you saved me. And, you knew what happened to me and I don’t want anyone else to know. You’re the only person who can help me.”

“Even if I was,” I said, “how can I help you?”

I was used to Lisa’s suggestions, which were good in principle but rarely well thought out. Di, on the other hand, usually had rational ideas that needed refining. She had come prepared. “I want you to put me through the same scenario as we went through. Even if you can’t teach me anything, I want to get used to what to do. I was really scared then and panicked. I want to practice.”

This is a crazy idea, I thought. You couldn’t learn how to defend yourself just by thinking about. But then again, I could show her a few basic techniques, and it felt like she needed a confidence boost more than anything. Fortunately, I had a padded practice mat in the back room. My father used it when he trained in martial arts before he moved out, and I had the mat (and the room) left unused. It was sufficient for Di and me to practice in without being interrupted. Di’s ankle was still recovering, so I decided not to do anything hands-on for our first session. Instead, I explained to her the basics of self-defence, hopefully shedding light on the mentality behind defending one’s self and avoiding conflict instead of provoking it and channelling calm instead of anger. She listened intently, though I knew she would need hands-on experience to know what I meant. I then showed her a few choke and strangle holds and let her apply them on me.

“The big difference,” I said, “is that a strangle cuts off blood to the brain while a choke cuts off air. Someone can hold their breath for over a minute, but it takes less than 8 seconds for the brain to feel light. Remember though, you’re not trying to kill anyone. You’re only defending yourself, and you probably won’t use strangle or choke anyway. Someone might try it on you though, so it’s worth knowing.”

Di came over once a week and I taught her more basic techniques – stances, blocking and some holds. She was a keen learner and started to feel comfortable with her own abilities. Though she never worked out, her naturally heavier weight meant she could apply herself in a stronger way. I was still concerned about her mentality. She was still young and hadn’t developed the patience to see the practicality in knowing the principles instead of coming to blows. I soon had an idea.

The next time she came over, she was wearing an old purple t-shirt and old track pants. Perfect. We warmed up and got ourselves ready for another practice session. This time, I told her I was going to be as aggressive as a real assailant to see what she would do. She was confident and stood ready. I immediately lunged towards her, stopping just short. Predictably, she moved forward to grab me. “You should never need to make the first move,” I said to her, “you open yourself up.” She didn’t listen. She continued to try to grapple with me, reaching for my shirt for leverage. The fundamental principle with dealing with this sort of approach was to treat it as if the attacker is aiming at a particular point in space, give them that space and use making use of everything else. I offered her that space, sidestepping as she was fixated on the grab and easily bypassing her. As she stumbled past, I took a firm hold of the elastic band around her pants and pulled. She immediately fell with her pants around her knees. She was wearing skimpy black panties and I looked down on her exposed buttocks. She tried to get up, but I stepped on her pants. She wriggled her feet free and got back on her feet. Realising she was standing in front of me in her panties, she cried out and covered up. She tentatively reached for her pants but I kicked them away.

“What are you doing?” she yelled.

“Do you think someone’s going to let you put your pants back on?” I scolded. “I said I was treating this as if this was a real assailant.”

“But you can see my panties!” she yelped. She was turning redder. Her panties weren’t revealing, but it was a delicious view. I was getting quite aroused by seeing my girlfriend’s sister trying to be modest. “I want to see more than that,” I said. She couldn’t tell if I was acting – and neither could I. When I grabbed her shirt, the old threads gave way from my sudden pull, ripping the shirt right off her, exposing her jiggling D-cup breasts in a sexy black lace bra. She cried out and begged me to stop; her eyes gazing at me in honest terror. She knew I meant business. “Please, stop,” she continued to plead.

“Take your bra off and I’ll stop,” I said. She glared at me. I discarded the shredded shirt and repeated my instruction. “If you don’t, I’ll take it off myself.” Shaking, she complied, unhooking her bra and letting it drop. Before she could cover herself, I thrust my hands over her tits and rubbed over her hand nipples. She tried to pull back but found herself pinned against the wall at my mercy. Her soft flesh felt warm in my hands as I kneaded them, occasionally pinching her nipples. She closed her eyes and moaned. She placed her arms around my neck – but not in any strangle or choke. “What’s the matter?” I asked as I taunted her. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

“I…” she gasped suddenly as another spasm of arousal hit her. “Please…stop…”

“You’d better enjoy it then,” I snarled. I dropped one hand and pulled down her panties. My fingers touched her moist vagina. She thrust her hands into my face and chest. She braced herself for my invasive fingers. Moments later, she opened her eyes, surprised that there was no sensation. My hands were off her body and I was standing a few paces back. “If I was a real thug, worse would have happened by now,” I said, staring at her naked body. “There’s little that separates man from animal when instinct takes over. To be honest, I was more feral than I thought I would be. That’s the effect women have on men – and when men want it, they turn into predators.”

Di bowed her head down, contemplating her failure. Her body was slumped in defeat and her hands loosely covering her exposed parts. “What could I have done?” she said in a low voice. She was close to tears, but I kept my stern disposition. “Don’t give in to what the man wants. He will hurt you if you let him. But if you resist, you may be hurt more. You have to know when the opportunity to strike presents itself – and it always will.”

She looked doubtful. “But…I’ve got nothing. I’ve got weapons and no clothes. How can I fight?”

“The way you always have,” I replied. “You know how to defend yourself. You don’t need a weapon. Even if they have a weapon you can neutralise it and disarm him. Your own body is weapon in more ways than one. You are naked. Let me ask you: does that bother you? Does the idea that a man is looking at you right now, seeing things that you’ve never shown to anyone else, affect how you think? Would this stop you from taking necessary action to protect yourself? What if someone threatened you while you were in the shower? Would you cower in the corner and beg him not to hurt you? You might not be the only one in danger. No matter what situation you find yourself in, you must overcome your personal feelings and take necessary action. Understand this, and nothing can threaten you.”

It was a hard lesson to learn, I knew. Perhaps I had gone too far. She was, after all, only my girlfriend’s sister, and I had no right to touch her in any way, nor did I derive any pleasure from doing so. However, I had seen first-hand what could’ve happened if we had taken a softer approach. We were lucky the first time. Lisa might have her own opinion on self-defence and be reliant on a spray can that she couldn’t find in her maze of a handbag. Reality has a way of testing those methods.

Di didn’t come back the next week. I thought I might have scared her off and in the back of my mind I began to worry if she had told Lisa about what had happened. Di did return the week after, however. The look in her eyes told me that she had considered my advice very carefully and had taken it on. “Let’s continue,” she said, slightly shaky but with an underlying determination.

We returned to the back room. This time, however, I took a different tact. Instead of putting her through more combat training, I wanted to build up her discipline. “Become used to dealing with uncomfortable situations,” I told her. “Many things can surprise you, but surprise can bring you immediate defeat. Be aware of your surroundings and your situation before taking any action. The hasty move is often the one that goes amiss. Punching someone the moment they touch you is not always the wisest action.” Of course, she didn’t know what I meant. To demonstrate, I lifted her skirt. She yelped and pulled it back down. The innocent white cotton look, I thought. I circled in front of her and brushed my hand against her thigh. Her body shivered involuntarily. “What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing me cautiously. I smiled. “Actually, I’m not doing much. Just grazing past you.” My shoulder brushed against her breast. The softness indicated she wasn’t wearing a bra. As soon as I got behind her, I turned and grabbed her chest, giving her large boobs a mighty squeeze. She reacted by slamming her elbow into my chin.

“Oh shit!” she gasped, seeing the damage done. “I didn’t mean to!” I staggered around a bit before regaining my composure. “That’s kind of what I meant by acting appropriately,” I muttered, rubbing my bruising chin. “If you did that while you were surrounded by others, you would not get out in one piece. Patience, and the opportunities will come.” She was starting to understand. “So if I can train myself to not be embarrassed by someone grabbing me, I can better protect myself?” It was paradoxical, but she was making sense of it. We continued the exercise by touching her exposed skin, accustoming her to the unfamiliar sensation of someone touching her, something she normally despised. I started with her arms and legs, gradually moving over her buttocks. Here she showed some discomfort, but gradually got used to my touch. By the time I moved to her stomach and chest, she was confident. I noticed her nipples hardening, though it had nothing to do with the cold. I gently massaged her breasts. She didn’t react, at least not right away.

Wanting to push the boundaries further, I reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down. She stepped out of them, not showing any concern that I was looking at and touching her exposed ass. I ran my hands up her hips and undid her skirt, letting it fall to the mat. Then, slowly, I took off her top. Naked, she stood with her arms by her sides, not hiding anything. “Very good,” I whispered. “Can you feel how different it is?”

“It’s embarrassing,” she admitted. “But yes, you’re right. I could’ve stopped you at any point. I just needed to calm down and assess the situation.” I nodded and gave her clothes back to her. “That’s all I can teach you.”

[viridian]

Months later, Lisa and I broke up for reasons that I’d rather not talk about, but had nothing to do with what Di and I were doing together. It wasn’t the most pleasant of breakups, and consequently I didn’t visit Lisa or her family for several months. Once the relationship drama had generally subsided, Lisa and I were back on talking terms, and she wanted to see me again for some long-needed catch-up time. I came over after work to find her sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop. She was wearing an old plain grey dress. I sat beside her, not wanting to touch her out of awkwardness. We started chatting about what we had been up to since our breakup. The conversation went amicably, though far from the intimacy we had shown. She had gained some weight during our time apart, I noticed. My peripheral vision also noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Although it was the end of winter, it was still cold, and Lisa kept her hands cross over her chest to prevent nipple pokies, though at times I could still see a glimpse of her dark nipple through her neckline.

Not long after I arrived, Di came home from school. She was wearing a white top and jeans. Surprised to see me, she joined us at the table where we talked, gazing at random video clips on the laptop. She looked more cheerful these days because of her recent acceptance into a new course, compared to the general glumness around Lisa. After getting herself a drink of water, Di went into her room. Moments later, she returned wearing the same t-shirt and a pleated skirt.

And no bra.

Her loose top didn’t make it as obvious, but the jiggle did. She sat down, leaned her heavy chest (remember she’s a D-cup vs. Lisa’s 12B) over the dining table and watched video clips with us. Lisa didn’t pay any attention, but I can tell you that a certain part of me under the table was. Di said nothing about it, but it was an incidental moment that would pale in comparison to what we’d experience much later.

Around mid-Spring, the family had to make an emergency trip to Vietnam to visit an ill family member. Apart from costing a lot of money to take the whole family, Di had to remain at home because of her course – the other option being to drop out of it. Di steadfastly refused to throw away her career hopes and Lisa talked their parents into letting her stay. Although Di was 19, she hadn’t earned the trust of her parents (although frankly she was much more capable of looking after herself than Lisa). As a compromise, her parents asked me to stay at home with her while they were away for two weeks. Even though I had the breakup with Lisa, I was still the most responsible person they knew and they trusted me with their house, which in one sense was an honour, though it was kind of intimidating as well. We made the arrangements and moved in the day after the left.

There was a slight problem though: Di didn’t know about it.

As a teenager who was kept under wraps for most her life, sheltered by her parents and kept from doing things most people her age wanted to do, Di was excited at the unexpected freedom she gained from her entire family flying overseas and having the house to herself. She had plans to do things she was never allowed to do before – going out at night, cooking whatever she wanted, invite friends over for parties; the typical stuff.

I arrived just after noon and let myself in using the key the parents had given me. I brought my stuff in and intended to use Lisa’s room as mine. I walked through Di’s room, seeing her still asleep. She stirred and groggily woke up, having been disturbed by my movement and the creaky floorboards. Once she realised I was actually there, she became startled. “What are you doing here?” she asked. I explained to her what her parents had arranged. She was relieved, mostly because she was glad that they hadn’t asked one of her obnoxious aunts or family friends to babysit her. Her phone rang at the moment. She reached over to grab it, letting her blanket slide off her upper body as she leaned over, revealing her impressive rack that, now that I was in her room and up close, looked deliciously soft and inviting.

I didn’t feel bad about getting a hard-on over my ex’s younger sister. It turned out that one of the things she always wanted to do was to sleep naked. With no one in the house, that felt like a good idea. Now that I was there, it made things slightly awkward for her, but over the next couple of days we had settled into a manageable living pattern with my work and her study. There was also a noticeable amount of tension in the house – she was beginning to get adventurous, and since my breakup I hadn’t gotten any action. She had seen me naked before (accidentally, when I was with Lisa) and I’d seen her bits a couple of times. It didn’t take long before something sparked off.

I was doing my work on the dining table while Di was playing on the Wii. She was in her pyjamas, which consisted of a loose silk cotton top and pants, and usual she wore a bra underneath. I was mildly amused at her futile attempts at getting past a certain section in Zelda: Twilight Princess. After a while she got bored and asked if I wanted to play, but I declined, saying that I wasn’t into Zelda and I had a lot of work to do. “How about this then?” she offered, showing me WarioWare. I didn’t know what it was, so she popped it in and showed me. I was hooked on within minutes.

For those who don’t know, WarioWare isn’t so much a game as it is a collection of “microgames” that take several seconds to complete with simple actions, such as launching a rocket by shaking the controller, knocking little characters off platforms or doing cheesy poses. Each section had a particular theme, my favourite being the retro-game section, which had microgames featuring Mario and Starfox, my childhood classics. The controls were so intuitive that anyone could break high scores on their second go. Some required precision and patience, others needed fast reflexes. All-in-all, it was a package of fast-paced party games, and it was fun. Even so, I was more of a PC gamer, so waving a Wii controller around for more than 15 minutes wasn’t as exhilarating as the target audience would find, and unfortunately I didn’t have my PC over there.

“Wanna make it more interesting?” Di said, with a devilish grin. “We’ll play head-to-head. The loser has to take off a piece of clothing.”

Strip games on the Wii? I don’t know what she was thinking, but the game was on. I figured I had a huge advantage. I had been a competitive gamer for most of my life, and although I hadn’t played much of the Wii, it was so easy to learn that I set a bunch of high scores already. I wouldn’t lose to someone five years younger than me whose gaming experience was limited to waving a Wiimote and poking a DS.

I got fucking destroyed.

Innate gaming talent was no match to a girl who played these games religiously. She ripped through my scores as badly as she thrashed her kid brother. I only managed to beat her (and thus remove her jacket) in the retro games level, while she had me down to my underwear. With my dignity at stake, I picked the most difficult level. We were pretty close until we got to the final game, and I groaned. It was that fucking dance game. The one where you have to imitate the actions on the screen in sync, including slapping your arse with the Wii remote (in my underwear) and dancing like a disco nerd. Which, mind you, I could do as well as the game wanted me to. But I always miss the end where you have to turn and point to the crowd. And I missed it this time. She had the biggest grin on her face as she watched me take off my last piece of clothing. I was glad that I didn’t have a hard-on, though having my ex’s sister giggle at my limp penis wasn’t gratifying either. She then scooped up my clothes and locked them away in her room, with the deal being that I lost them fairly and had to win them back or stay naked for the rest of the day. Though it wasn’t part of the deal, I shrugged and amused her. It was late anyway and were about to sleep. I already had my revenge plan in mind.

The next day, Di came home after doing some grocery shopping to find me sitting on the couch mucking about with the Wii, playing Twilight Princess. She looked at me curiously, but I told her that I was simply taking a break. I immediately challenged her to a rematch. “Same game?” she asked. “No,” I answered. “Wii Sports”. She raised her eyebrow at me, then put away the groceries, took off her shoes and shades while I set the game up and synchronised her controller, expecting another easy win. She offered to let me put on more clothing (I was only wearing a t-shirt, track pants and underwear, while she had a jacket), but I scoffed and played the underdog card. She didn’t know I had been practising all day.

Five games, five items of clothing on her. It went according to plan. I picked the easiest sport first – Golf. She was terrible at the game and didn’t have the patience to putt accurately, so I won the first round without breaking a sweat, earning her jacket. Next, she picked Baseball – my worst, but I had been training using the minigames and had the timings down for good swings. Di lacked the finesse needed to hit consistently and while the game was close, it was another victory for me. Realising she had to show some skin, she took off her jeans. She was wearing a pair of frilly purple knickers, complementing her curvy hips and rump. I picked Bowling as our next challenge. She managed to accumulate a high score with blind luck, as with real-life bowling, but I had worked out the fine wrist movement and positioning to get the right spin on the ball, scoring 290. She doffed her top, revealing a matching purple bra.

Things got heated up with Boxing. We plugged in our nunchuk controllers and did a few stretches. Now in her underwear, she was getting agitated at her losing streak and was determined to punch me (well, my avatar) out. As predicted, she hammered away, knocking my cartoonish face back and forth. She got angry very easily, and this was the result. I defended as well as I could, withstanding the torrent of blows coming at me. Di was working up a sweat while I bided my time. Muhammad Ali would’ve approved of my strategy. Di was busy swinging ferociously, whereas I knew the game didn’t require you to actually replicate each movement precisely in person – the controls weren’t that sensitive. Once she wore herself out, I retaliated with a series of quick jabs and crosses. She couldn’t keep up with the rapid barrage, ending up in an easy knockout. Growing red with frustration, she took off her bra, releasing her D-cup boobs. I felt my crotch stir, but we weren’t done yet. She was serious.

The last game was Tennis, and while I normally sucked at it, I had calculated the events perfectly. I made my choices with this last game in mind. Di, as with boxing, made exaggerated motions, steadying herself and shifting to either side to return each shot while I stood still, letting my avatar do all the running. Apart from being more tired, Di soon found that being well-endowed and braless does not go well with playing tennis and, with her boobs to blame, she lost the matches – and her knickers. She took them off with a huff while I scooped up her clothing and hid them away. Minutes later, after she had cooled down from her one-sided loss, she then realised what I had actually got her into. Embarrassment then overwhelmed her: she was beet red, her hands desperately covering her huge boobs and her crotch but not succeeding in either. Even though she lost fair and square, she was not going to reward me with a full view of her naked body…until she realised that the rider clause in our gaming agreement backfired on her. The previous night, all I had to do was go to sleep naked. Today, it was only 5pm. She had to spend the rest of the evening as she was: cooking, cleaning, doing homework, all completely naked. Even after she showered and dried herself, she wasn’t allowed to put any clothes on. We had an unspoken hands-off agreement, but I sweetly enjoyed my comeback and had a very, very pleasant sleep that night.