His Nasty Little Pussy

The next day, Chris asked me if I wanted to go shopping. He said he was heading into town, and he thought I might like a fun day out. Truthfully, I just wanted to spend time with him. If he’d asked me to tour the sewage treatment with him, I would have gratefully accepted. The first thing he suggested doing was having my hair done.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” I asked.

“Nothing, it’s beautiful,” he said, stroking my waist-length blonde hair. “But I thought you might like something a little wilder. You know, just for fun.”

“Like what?” I asked him.

“I don’t know, I was thinking dreads,” he said.

I burst into laughter. “Dreadlocks? Me?” I cackled.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

“Why not?” he asked with a shrug.

“How about braids? Seems a little less permanent,” I told him.

“Alright, we’ll give it a try,” he said.

“Can we take your bike?” I asked.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea with your hand and all,” he said. “But I promise I’ll take you for a ride as soon as your hand is better.” I sighed. “Fine,” I relented.

First, we stopped for lunch. We had burgers and fries at my favorite diner, and then we headed to the hair salon. The stylist tried to talk me into getting my hair colored, but I loved my blonde hair. I just had it braided into dozens of tiny braids.

“Wow, you look a little less dainty,” Chris said when he saw the final result.

“Dainty?” I chuckled. “Where’d you learn that word?” He laughed.

“Now we should get you some proper clothes,” he told me.

“What’s wrong with these?” I asked, looking down at my t-shirt and jeans.

“Nothing,” he countered. “You just look a little… innocent.” “I am innocent,” I told him.

“Maybe so, but you don’t have to look it,” he told me, pinching my cheek.

He took me to a store in town that sold all kinds of slutty clothes. Nothing really seemed my style, and I was just about to suggest we leave when Chris held up a sheer shirt.

“This,” he said, smiling wickedly. “With a sexy black bra underneath.”

“This looks positively scandalous,” I told him, leaning over and speaking near him in hushed tones. Then I turned to the sales girl and said, “I’ll take it!”

I bought a black bra and matching black panties. That, along with a wicked pair of black suede boots went just fine with the jeans I was already wearing. I changed into my new outfit at a gas station.

“Holy crap,” Chris said as soon as I walked out.

“Tell me about it, stud,” I said in my best impression of Sandy from Grease.

Chris laughed.

“Sandy you are not,” he chuckled. “But I’ll take you over Olivia Newton-John any day!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I joked. “Although the look isn’t quite so sexy with this huge cast in the way.” “I think you look hot,” he said with a shrug.

I felt my face flush hot.

The rest of the day, we spent wandering around town. We played games at the arcade, watched a movie, and stopped for pizza on the way home. He did a good job keeping my mind off how much my hand was hurting.

When we got home, our parents had gone out again. He told me to meet him in the living room if I wanted to watch a DVD, and I went to take a shower. When I got out, I put on my new black panties and I started to put on my bra, but I thought better of it. Instead, I put on the sheer black shirt without it, and headed into the living room.

Chris had already put a DVD into the player, and he was sitting shirtless in a pair of sweatpants. His eyes glanced up at me, and his mouth fell open.

“What?” I teased.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You don’t like it?” I asked him, pouting playfully.

“I…” he started to say something, but his eyes were transfixed on my breasts.

I sat down beside him and leaned on his shoulder. I looked up at him, getting lost in his beautiful gray-blue eyes.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “I can’t, Mika. You’re my sister.”

“We only met a few months ago, and your mom and my dad haven’t even been married for six months,” I said. “We’re not even remotely related.”

“Yeah, but… it just seems…”

I suddenly straddled him and planted a kiss on his lips, resting my good hand on his cheek. His arms went around my waist, drawing me closer to him. He sucked air in sharply, and I felt his tongue slip between my lips. I could feel the warmth of his bare chest through the sheer fabric of my shirt.

I could feel him grasping desperately at my shirt, eager to tear it away from my body. I lifted my arms, allowing him to pull it off and discard it. I leaned forward, pressing my breasts against his chest. Once again, I felt his strong arms wrap around me, holding my body captive against his.

His kiss became more passionate. I felt his long hair brush against my face and down my shoulder as his soft tongue swirled inside my mouth. His hands clasped over my ass, squeezing it. I could feel his hardness swelling inside his sweatpants, pushing between my legs. My wetness was already soaking through my panties and moistening the front of his pants.

A car door slammed, and then another.

“Oh no,” I gasped, grabbing my shirt and rushing to my room.

I flung myself onto my bed and growled in exasperation, and I managed to land partially on my injured hand. I yowled in pain and frustration. I’d finally managed to make him notice me, and our parents came home! What a wretched end to a perfectly wonderful day.

I rummaged around in a drawer and threw on a comfortable old tshirt, then climbed into bed and fell asleep.