How I masturbated my sister Vickie as we played games. I was a naive, quiet 12 year old kid. I was in my room masturbating, and I wondered what it would be like to have real sex. I knew that a girl would probably close her eyes, breath heavily, maybe even gasp, and then arch her back as she came. My Sister Vickie Author: Growing up, I often played games with my sister Vickie. She would balance on my knee as I tried to bounce her off. And sometimes when I had stopped playing, she would continue bouncing on my leg.
She would always end up burying her head into my shoulder as she squeezed me tightly, often gasping as she squeezed me most tightly. I had occasionally noticed a faraway look in her eyes just before she would place her head on my shoulder.
The faraway look in her eyes — her gasps. I never thought that she would orgasm with me, her own brother. So I finally understood why she liked this game, and why she always hid her face and closed her eyes.
She was hiding her face while she orgasmed. But she could show me that she was willing to let me fuck her. My sister had probably orgasmed 20 times with me before I realized this. What a fool I was. So I immediately got dressed and went downstairs to find my sister. I wanted to watch her orgasm. She must have realized how dim-witted I was. Without an instant of hesitation, she agreed. So Vickie, wearing a skirt, got on my leg, and I started trying to buck her off.
She played for a while, but she seemed to grow more and more distracted. Seeing the growing flush on her face, and her more intense effort to angle her body so that the front of her panty-covered crotch was in contact with my leg, I suspected that she was aroused — and trying to hide it.
But I felt her growing wetness on my leg. So to test my theory, to see if my sister was really getting sexually aroused, I stopped bucking my leg. Without losing her rhythm, she continued to move on my leg by herself — forcefully wrapping her legs tightly around my thigh — clearly not planning to stop.
I had discovered just how aroused she was. She was clearly too excited to stop. Too Turned-on To Stop But that was fine with me. I liked knowing that my sister was so aroused that she was about to have an orgasm with me, her own brother. Now that I recognized her lewd desire to be masturbated — I wanted to help.
So with her crotch now pumping my leg in earnest, and me carefully returning each small thrust, her rubbing quickly increased until she was barely able to hold a rhythm, and her riding was soon accompanied by audible breathing. Seeing her loss of control, I put one hand in the small of her back, sliding her small body forward into me with her thrust.
The friction combined with my overt help brought on her orgasm, and as her orgasm arrived she leaned forward to hug me tightly, to bury her head in my shoulder. But I wanted to watch a girl orgasm — so I took hold of her cheek and I turned her head to face me.
I thought my brazen desire to have her face me as she orgasmed might get a negative reaction — but the only reaction I got was my sister eagerly looking into my eyes as she rocked her pelvis into me with even more enthusiasm. If anything, she was more aroused knowing that I wanted to watch her orgasm.
I kept my eyes on hers while her orgasm took hold of her. It had her gasping for air, her mouth partly open — angling her clitoris to keep pressing against me. As she orgasmed she arched her body against mine perhaps three times, pushing her clitoris against me forcefully with each of her thrusts. Her body was so small, and with my hand on her back, she was able to slide herself up against me with her thrusts.
Her eyes stayed locked on mine as her orgasm gradually subsided, and a contented glow slowly took over her very flushed face. She seemed to slowly return from somewhere distant, and seemed reluctant to let me go — her arms staying wrapped tightly around me — resting contentedly in my arms. She had made a big wet spot along my thigh, and the whole room smelled of sex.
I could tell that she loved having me watch her. Perhaps I should have been embarrassed about masturbating my own sister. But, instead of being embarrassed, I liked knowing that my sister was always wet and ready for me to masturbate her, and I liked knowing that she wanted her brother in a way that no sister should want a brother.
We kept Playing This more mature version of our game became a ritual for perhaps a year. We probably played a couple of times a week, or whenever we had the opportunity, never really talking about what we were really doing. Of course, there was the occasional exception when she had multiple orgasms — surprising me by coming two or even three times as she clung tightly to me. I think the last time we played was when I was 16 and Vickie was We were both maturing fast in those years.
We were both older, but I wondered how she would react now if I made the outlandish suggestion that we play our old, childish, masturbation game — did she still remember what we did?
Had I embellished her erotic enthusiasm in my mind? But I figured that this would be my last chance to find out her reaction. So I found Vickie and asked her if she wanted to play — thinking she would say no, and thinking that we might both be embarrassed by my suggestion. She had never had to stop and think about it before, so she obviously understood the significance of my suggestion — and she was weighing the idea of her brother masturbating her to an incestuous orgasm.
We had reached an age where we knew what we were agreeing to — we were agreeing to have an intimate sexual experience with each other — exposing our lusts and desires. But she knew exactly what we were doing. I was about to find out. Vickie had gotten much too big to sit on my leg and be bounced off — at thirteen she was becoming a young woman. Almost as tall as me, I had no ability to bounce her on my leg. Instead, feigning indifference about being too big to bounce, she immodestly lifted her skirt high, exposing her white panties to me as she sat on my thigh.
She then made a long show of daintily tucking down her skirt around my leg where her moist, warm crotch now rested. Then she gamely put her hands on top of my shoulders. Being so big, her body was unstable on my leg. But now she had real, feminine, hips — so I placed my hands on her hips to help her stay balanced as she bounced.
I wanted to feel this young girl orgasm. We started, but before long, her bouncing slowed to a regular pace. When my leg moved, she would try to hold it with her legs — trying to control the pace and pressure. Can you tell what you can make happen? Her eyes were still fixed on mine. But as my thirteen-year-old sister bounced on my leg what I especially liked was that she was letting me watch her as I masturbated her.
She gradually became more and more flushed and aroused with her rhythmic, well-timed bounces — each bounce now ending in a distinct rub against my thigh. As she continued to ride on my thigh she grew more and more distracted and distant — I could see the lust consuming her. And I liked that I had my hands on her real, feminine hips — I could inhale her scent and watch her breasts bouncing just inches from me. And she was old enough to understand the concept of incestuous sex her brother — and she was choosing to masturbate with me.
I think the family resemblance made me especially attractive to her. Her pace increased — and I noticed her spreading her legs much wider. I used my hands on her hips to keep her balanced as her legs opened wide in the air while she rode me. No pretense of self-control, her cheeks flushed, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, and breathed through her open mouth as the flush in her face became a bright red — sensually contrasting with her light freckles.
Her pace quickened more — going too fast to keep a rhythm. Openly desperate to orgasm — it was an almost shocking lewdness in my thirteen-year-old sister. Her widely spread legs revealed her wanton desire to be fucked — and not just fucked by anyone — but fucked by me.
But now in a another change of our old ritual she put her feet on the floor, being tall enough to use her own legs to move her body back and forth on my thigh. She rode me while her fingers squeezed my shoulders in time with her ride to her approaching orgasm. The wet spot was huge under her — dripping down the sides of my thigh as her body instinctively lubricated for sexual intercourse.
That was another difference from earlier times. Both of us older, it was different but still familiar. I could tell when the first wave of her orgasm was about to arrive when she leaned her lower body forward, getting friction to her clitoris so that it could thrust against me as she orgasmed.
Familiar too was her involuntary gasping, as she opened her eyes to look into mine as her orgasm arrived. She leaned forward to hug me tightly with the first wave, throwing her head on my shoulder and looking into my eyes. I think I enjoyed this experience with her more than any other. It was wonderful to have Vickie — still a little girl — so willing to orgasm again in my arms.
Then, taken completely by her orgasm, she was gasping, squeezing me tightly with all her strength, and making small sounds of pleasure as it arrived.
I held my hands lightly on her thrusting hips, and with each wave of her orgasm Vickie arched her body against mine. I could see the familiar euphoria in her eyes — holding my gaze through her entire orgasm. It was just as I remembered, and, as always, I enjoyed watching Vickie orgasm.