If you’ve read my other stories you know that my sister (25) and I (26) have an unusual relationship, to put it mildly. Lots of history, pretty much everything you could imagine, and for a long time, too. We are not shy around one another, and from time to time this has led to situations in which we are both (a-hem) engaged with someone else in the same room with each other. Most usually it’s two separate couples getting busy on opposite couches during a movie or whatever – something we’ve all probably done before – but sometimes we don’t stop where “normal” people would. It never gets old the first time one of us does this with a new guy; the look on his face when he realizes that my sister is gonna suck his dick while I can see it is… well, it’s fucking hot. We both have come to love blowing a guy’s mind in this way.
All this is to say that we both know the effect that this kind of behavior has on men.
We have a neighbor down the hall, a man in his mid thirties. Let’s call him… Frank. Frank is about 6’2”, dark hair, green eyes, well kept beard, dreamy physique. He’s like Justin Theroux, only tall, and if you can believe this, even hotter. Frank is the kind of hot that takes your breath away. All subtlety goes out the window when you see him for the first time, and I’ve personally watched several different friends do a double take when they do. He is laughably hot. He’s a fucking monument, waiting for you to climb him and plant your flag (vagina) on his peak (face). And he’s married.
We knew OF him for a few months before we KNEW him. We’d see him in the hall with his wife, we’d smile and say hello. We got to know their patterns a little bit – not in a creepy way, just as neighbors do. I noticed that I would see her pulling a suitcase every month or so as they left the house, and that he would return alone.
Fast forward a few months more, and now we’re on chatting terms. In the hall, in the elevator, we know each other’s names, and a little bit more about. He’s a musician (SWOON), so he’s often home all day and out until late. His wife is an exec, out on business every few weeks for a week or a weekend (hence the suitcase).
It becomes apparent to us that their disparate lifestyles have left a space between them. You can see it in their interactions and you can see it his eyes when he talks about her. Maybe they want to make it work, but the spark is gone. He’s a little hungry for conversation. He lights up when we talk to him. Sometimes he reveals a little more than he should in the way that would be kinda weird if he wasn’t so god damned attractive.
One Sunday around 1 PM, we were coming back from brunch after a few too many mimosas and as we stumbled kinda loudly through the lobby toward the elevator, I see a hand reaching out to hold the door for us to get on. As it opened back up, I swear it was like the clouds parting and an angel emerging – a hot, hot angel – Frank. We got on.
In chatting he revealed that he was returning from the airport from dropping his wife, and my sister (who is less than subtle when she HASN’T been day drinking) announced that we were maybe a little tipsy. He laughed.
Frank: “That sounds fun.”
Me: “We are fun!” (Nervous laughs too much at her own joke)
(Elevator door opens, two drunk girls and a statue exit.)
His door is first off the elevator, to the right. We continue down the hall toward our place. As he’s pulling out his keys…
Frank: “Nice to see you two, hope your Sunday funday is, uh…fun.”
Sister, blurting: “You should join us!”
Now, mind you, she just kind of said this as a toss off, and I don’t think either of us expected that he would respond this way, but…
Frank: “You know, my brunch gig was cancelled. I make a mean Negroni. You should stop by if you don’t have other pl -“
Sister: “OKAY!!!”
And she turns around and walks straight for his apartment door. This obviously isn’t what he meant – not RIGHT NOW – but he smirked and said “Oh, umm, okay, sure! Come on in!”
So here we are now in the entry way to their apartment and already it’s apparent how much more adult they are than us. The decor is coordinated, it’s tidy and clean, they have nice things. There’s no dirty dishes or laundry strewn about in the shared spaces. It’s so much more grown up than our bachelorette pad. It’s like everything I aspire to be all laid out in front of me. Maybe it was the mimosas talking but I remember being surprised at how turned on it made me to catch this glimpse of this hidden world, this bastion of domesticity across the hall from the dump we maintained.
Frank: “Oh, umm. Sorry if this is weird but can do you mind taking your shoes off? Just kind of a rule around here.”
“Sure, is there anything else you want me to take off while I’m here? Maybe my underwear?” said the voice in my head as we complied.
“Make yourselves at home, I’m gonna make the drinks. Maybe pick out a record to put on!”
As he went for the bar cart in the kitchen, sister and I headed into the living room. “OH MY GOD,” she mouthed to me silently, as we took in more of the apartment. Leather sofas. A baby grand Steinway. A massive vinyl collection, filling nearly an entire wall. In an effort to appear cool, I picked out a Jimmy Smith record and put it on the record player. He walked in holding three drinks.
Frank: “Oooh good choice. This is a great record for a Sunday.”
Nailed it. It was right around this time that I became aware of the dampness developing under my skirt.
He handed us our drinks and asked if we wanted to see the rest of the apartment. He talked about his piano, his records. He showed us the kitchen and the spare bedroom, the third bedroom he’d converted into a small recording studio. He talked about his days recording at home alone while his wife was at work or out of town. My sister, who is way into that kind of stuff, was clearly blown away. We continue the tour, but she’s fixated on the guitars and microphones and whatnots in that room and so for the first time that day, I find myself alone with Frank.
“And this is where the magic happens. Or doesn’t, haha.” These were the words out of his mouth as we entered his bedroom, their bedroom. Ever so subtly hinting at something. Or was he?
I felt emboldened to find out. Some combination of the booze, the flirting, the casualness of it all. The way he’d been looking at me. I turned around and purposely put myself further inside his personal space than I had been before. When he stepped into me instead of away, I got my answer.
Now I could feel him. I pressed myself forward and I bit my lip with a wry grin as I raised my gaze to meet his. I didn’t break eye contact as I set my drink down on an end table. And I kissed him.
In the first moment of a first kiss a thousand unspoken things are suddenly known. He didn’t pull away, which told me I didn’t misread him. He closed his eyes and made a soft sound. He wanted this. I wanted this. We’d reached the tipping point and we forgot everything else.
In the flash of a moment, I shoved him backward onto the bed. I climbed on top and straddled him. My skirt was riding up, but modesty was no longer a factor. Maybe he would catch a glimpse of the wet spot on my underwear that I could clearly feel had developed by now. I ripped open the snaps on his button down to reveal his neatly trimmed, perfectly masculine chest. I was ravenous. I took off my shirt and bra and I leaned over him to drag my tits on his chest as I went in for another deep kiss. I felt his cock hardening beneath me as I undulated against it.
I bit his lip aggressively before moving on to his neck, his collarbone, his beautiful, broad, chiseled chest. His eyes were closed. There was one end to this trajectory and he had resigned himself to knowing he couldn’t stop it now. Except… he did.
He sat up suddenly. I looked up and saw the horrified look on his face as he stared at the doorway. I froze. Didn’t he just take her to the airport?? Surely she’s not…
I swallowed, turned to look, and saw my sister standing there.
She looked at us and bit her lip. She and I had been down this road enough times that I knew what that meant. We both laughed a little as he looked back at me, clearly wondering why I wasn’t as mortified as he was.
Sister: “It’s okay. I like to watch.”
She came into the room and sat in the chair adjacent to the bed. I pushed him back down and continued. Here we were in that moment with him that I mentioned at the beginning of the story. Our desire to give this ungodly hot man the experience of his fucking life overtook everything else. He did not close his eyes again.
I unbuckled his belt and pants. I pulled them down to his thighs. His cock flopped out onto his stomach, reaching nearly up to his navel and it was, unsurprisingly, as beautiful as the rest of him. I grabbed it with my right hand and squeezed it as I ran my tongue from his balls, all the way up the back of it, and flicked my tongue on the top. A string of precum suspended between my mouth and his cock as he let out an audible moan and his leg started to shake a little bit beneath me.
Sister: “Oh. FUCK.”
This is when she decided to turn things up. She scooted the chair closer to us, maybe 3 feet away, and took off her shorts. She sat back down, draping her left leg over the arm of the chair. She stared intently at his rock hard cock as she dropped a hand inside her boyshorts to start rubbing herself.
I took him into my mouth as deeply as I could, moaning along with her now. I was hypnotized by the taste of his precum. I wanted to make him feel so fucking good that he would give me a load like he’d never given his wife, like I’d never had before in my whole life. I wanted him to cum so fucking hard that his balls retreated into his stomach. So he felt it in his feet. It was my life’s mission in that moment to make his toes curl.
But he lasted and lasted. It seemed like forever. I was pulled out all my tricks – soaking him with my saliva, licking his balls while I jerked him off, deep throating his perfect cock, telling him I’d wanted his cum for a long time. And my sister, who by now was wet enough that you could hear her middle finger slurping into her little pussy over and over again, whispering “Fuck. Oh, fuck.” I couldn’t believe that none of this made him blow. And then it happened.
Sister: “Ooohhh fuck. Do you wanna see me cum? I’m gonna fucking cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna HRRRNNNN”
Her hips bucked up in the air and back down again as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. I moaned loudly with her, bobbing up and down on his dick while I jerked him off and finally. FINALLY. He exploded. It was everything I wanted and more. He moaned out in a moment of utter fucking ecstasy. His cum hit the back of my throat so hard that I almost gagged on it, but I managed to suppress it and swallow. All the pent up volume of a man in a frustrated, sexless marriage, all the powerlessness he felt in his day to day life, all the pleasure he’d been denied, I swear that he let it all out in that load that he gifted to me and I swallowed every drop like a good fucking girl. His cock never left my mouth as he collapsed backward onto the bed, absolutely spent and completely drained.
I’ll spare you the details of the cleanup, save for one. As we all caught our breath, my sister pulled her hand out of her underwear and it was drenched. She hopped on the bed next to him and gave him that same look, biting her lip. And she wiped her hand right on his lips, parting them to let him clean her off.
This was our first encounter of what turned out to be a somewhat regular thing with Frank, both individually and together. But I don’t think any of them were as hot as this one.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/c3u65d/how_my_sister_25f_and_i_26f_drained_the_hot_guy
It’s all good!!!!!!!
Jesus!
I need more of this.