This is the story of my sister Ellie and me, Alan.

Since our childhood, we were really close to each other and spent most of the time in foster homes, until we were free to live on our own. 

Ellie used to live in a different city with her boyfriend. 

This was the time when the Pandemic started, and we all were stuck in our homes. 

One day, I heard a knock on my door. It was Ellie, drenched to the bone with her backpack slung over one shoulder, her face a picture of distress. I quickly ushered her inside and asked, “What on earth happened, sis?”

“I’m safe, but I left my home,” she replied, wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace. I urged her to clean up and take a warm shower while I prepared a fresh pot of coffee and reheated our dinner.

She had nothing dry to wear, so she borrowed some of my clothes and joined me at the dining table. Despite being wrapped in my oversized sweater, she still seemed lost in her sadness, tears glistening in her eyes as she remained silent. I chose not to press her, allowing her the space to find comfort with my presence. 

My night was restless, spent on the too-small couch, my legs dangling awkwardly over the edge. Sleep eluded me, but my mind was restless with thoughts of her in the adjacent room.

As the morning light crept in through the sheer curtains on big windows, the aroma of breakfast roused me from my sleep. There she was, Ellie, a vision of domestic bliss, glowing like an angel through her pale white skin, bustling in the kitchen, with her hairs tied in a bun. Her past as a waitress had been abruptly ended by the pandemic's cruel grasp.

After a quick morning routine, I joined her, my heart fluttering with anticipation. Over a warm meal, I gently probed, seeking to understand the mystery of the previous night. Her story unraveled like a tragic tapestry; a tale of betrayal and exploitation.

“My ex," she began, her voice laced with pain, "he took advantage. He bartered my body, allowing other men to use me for his professional gain."

My heart raced with fury. "Was it... prostitution?" I whispered, my voice laced with anger, struggling to comprehend the depth of her sacrifice. 

“He betrayed my trust by making me believe we were in an open relationship. The truth is, he hasn’t even touched me in six months—just pushed me to sleep with other guys,” she sobbed.

“How many?” I asked, and she warned me I would be shocked and judge her. I reassured her I wouldn’t.

“More than a hundred guys in the past year,” she confessed, her gaze lowered in shame.

I wrapped her in a tight embrace and gently asked why she hadn’t left when it all began. “I was a fool to believe him. I went along with it willingly. Since last year, I’ve slept with two guys or more, literally every weekend—never less than that,” she admitted, clinging to me.

“You’re home now. Don’t worry about any of that,” I said softly. Relief washed over her in my words. We spent the day lost in each other’s company, reminiscing about old times.

Later that night, as we prepared for bed, she asked how I felt about sleeping on the couch. “I’ll manage, you go to bed,” I replied.

“I saw how uncomfortable it is for you. Just go to bed—I’ll stay here,” she insisted, trying to pull me up. 

“That’s not going to happen, and you have back problems, too. We can’t do that,” I said.

“Alright, we could fight over it the whole night, or let’s just share the bed,” she suggested. I hesitated, knowing there wasn’t enough space for both of us to sleep comfortably, but finally, I agreed.

We went to bed facing away from each other, but the discomfort was too much for her. She turned and asked me to spoon her. I obliged, and suddenly, everything felt just right. 

A tingling sensation danced through me, leaving me awkward yet exhilarated. Somehow, I managed to drift off to sleep. 

In the middle of the night, I awoke to something stirring within me. Her face was so close, I could feel her breath caressing my lips. Her legs wrapped around me, and she nestled into me, lost in a deep slumber. 

I lost my resolve and leaned in slightly, our lips brushing together for a fleeting moment. My heart raced violently, as if it might burst from my chest. But she remained blissfully unaware and in deep sleep. I lost my half-asleep mind and let it go.

I slowly tucked my lips into hers, making sure there was no sudden movement. I could taste the flavour of her lipstick, as she did mine. I tried to relax and fall back asleep like that. 

The next morning, I woke up alone. I ventured out to find her in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, completely oblivious to the night’s events. We slipped back into our usual rhythm—me working from home while she busied herself with chores. 

Weeks passed, and life settled into a comfortable routine until her anniversary arrived. 

That night, she was weighed down by memories of her ex, and I could see the sadness etched across her face. After a few drinks, we went to bed, wasted drunk, once more her face closer to mine. 

In a moment of vulnerability, she leaned in and began to kiss me, and I didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. I was completely lost at the moment. We kissed for a while, and then she succumbed to the alcohol and passed out. We fell asleep, entwined, together.

The sun's warm embrace greeted me as I entered the dining area, and there she was, her eyes downcast, a blush adorning her cheeks. I chose to embrace the moment with a lightness of spirit, letting the weight of the night before dissipate like morning mist. We shared a silent understanding, a mutual decision to let the day unfold without the burden of words.

By the evening, The silence between us was a timid creature, eager to speak yet hesitant to break free. But the wine loosened her tongue, and as the movie's flickering light danced upon her face, she finally spoke.

Her words, a gentle inquiry into how I felt, revealed a heart burdened by uncertainty. I assured her that the night prior had been a respite, a joyous escape from the ordinary. Her smile, a delicate bloom, told me she understood.

In our intoxicated state, inhibitions melted away like snowflakes on warm breath. Our lips met once more, a playful jest turned into a passionate embrace. The taste of wine and desire lingered as I whispered for us to get back into our bedroom.

There, in the intimate darkness on the couch, I felt her presence above me, a tantalizing weight. She got over my lap. Our lips touched, and her hands, like butterflies, fluttered across my body, igniting a fire that burned within. 

A gentle touch, a momentary caress, and her fingers found their way to my pants. I tried to shake it off as we continued. Then I felt her hand moving closer. I casually shifted my pants a bit. To my surprise, her hand slipped through and found its way to me. 

She gasped softly, and I gently held her hand, guiding her while my other hand cradled her head. The contrast of her cool touch sent shivers through me as we shared a kiss. 

We paused, but she kept her hand right where it was. Then, we stopped and she lay on my lap. She gasped again and closed her eyes, and the moment felt electric.

As her warm breath caressed my skin, she leaned in, her lips brushing against my hard dick. With a delicate touch, she kissed the tip and then enveloped me in her soft, wet mouth. 

I was in a state of pure bliss as she took her time, teasing me with her skilled tongue. The pleasure was overwhelming, and I couldn't hold back any longer. 

I released myself, my essence filling her mouth, and she savored every drop, her eyes closed in contentment. In that moment, she seemed to drift off, completely satisfied.

We both were drunk and exhausted. We slept on the couch, with her face still on my dick, while my hands were inside her pants, and between her thighs. 

Startled by her own actions, Ellie rushed to the bathroom, leaving me with a mix of emotions. I pulled my pants up, my heart racing. As she emerged, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she apologized profusely.

"Ellie, my cute sister," I whispered, "There's no need for apologies. What happened between us was beautiful, a shared moment of passion." My words seemed to calm her, and a shy smile graced her lips.

Over breakfast, the silence was comforting, but I knew we had to address the elephant in the room. 

“Ellie, we must discuss this further," I said, my voice gentle.

Our conversation that followed was tense. Ellie's eyes filled with worry as she confessed, "Kissing was innocent, but my actions... they might have crossed a line."

"Why ever would you think that?" I asked, concerned.

"I fear I've jeopardized our relationship. I got carried away," she said, her voice trembling.

Taking her hand in mine, I reassured her, "Our bond is stronger than a fleeting moment. Tell me, how does your heart feel?"

Ellie's grip tightened, and her tears spoke volumes. "I... I don't regret it. I enjoyed it, and that's what scares me. I should feel ashamed, but I don't."

"My darling, your talent brings joy, not guilt. You were incredible," I praised, my words sincere. "You made me feel desired in ways I've never known before."

Her tears turned to relief, and she embraced me, her voice cracking. "I've been used, manipulated... I thought I'd lost myself."

"Never doubt your desires. If it pleases you, it pleases me. I am yours to take whenever you wish," I promised, my heart overflowing with affection. In that embrace, we found solace and a new understanding of our desires.

It had been almost a week since our passionate encounter, and as we went to our bedroom after dinner, a playful energy filled the air. 

I found her perched on the bed, a mischievous smile gracing her lips. I stood before her, anticipation building as we shared a silent moment.

With a gentle motion, she reached for my pants, her touch sending shivers down my spine. Her lips enveloped my dick, and as she took her time, exploring and teasing, I let my hands wander, slipping into her shorts. A soft gasp escaped her, but she didn't falter.

My fingers, eager and curious, found their way to her pussy, a sacred territory I had yet to explore. I caressed her gently, feeling her pleasure as she continued to pleasure me. The sensation of her mouth, warm and inviting, sent waves of delight through my body.

As I savored the climax, she withdrew, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I wanted to return the favor and eagerly pulled her towards the edge of the bed. Her expression, a mix of surprise and excitement, only fueled my desire.

I knelt before her, my tongue tracing a path from her pussy to the delicate crack of her ass. Her breath quickened, and I reveled in the power I held in that moment.

My fingers, skilled and attentive, teased her clit, while my tongue delved into her depths. I dared to venture further, my thumb finding its way to her most intimate spot, her asshole. She gasped, a silent plea for more.

With gentle pressure, I inserted my finger, exploring her as my tongue danced in unison. It was a new sensation for her, and her reactions were a symphony of pleasure. I savored her responses, knowing I was the first to unlock this hidden treasure and taste her ass.

As her pleasure built, I covered her with my mouth, ready to capture her essence. But in a surprising twist, she offered me a gift, a release of her passion that I gladly accepted. I cleaned her tenderly, my tongue soothing her sensitive skin.

We lay together, our hearts still racing, and drifted into a satisfied sleep.

The following morning, a hint of awkwardness crept in, but we navigated it with a newfound understanding. We had learned to embrace our desires, to play with the tension between us.

My birthday arrived, and though the world was locked down, her presence was my greatest gift. We baked a cake, and as the evening unfolded, we let loose. Drinks flowed freely, and inhibitions melted away. I tasted her sweetness, and she surrendered to her pleasure.

On the couch, our passion ignited once more. We made out. Her mischievous smile returned, and she straddled me, her breasts brushing against my face. I suckled, my hands exploring her curves.

Guiding me with her body, she took me into her ass, a gasp and a sigh escaping her lips. Her kisses rained down on me, a shower of affection. Before we realise, I was inside her warm pussy. She was slowly riding me. 

Half an hour of bliss passed, and I released myself within her, a testament to our love. She rushed to my side, a mix of pleasure and regret on her face. Her kiss was tender, and she ran to the bathroom, leaving me in a daze.

I finished my drink, my mind reeling, and made my way back to the bedroom. She lay on the bed, her back to me. I joined her, mirroring her position. But soon, we turned towards each other, our eyes locking in a silent conversation.

I leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. Her leg entwined with mine, and her hand, gentle yet firm, held my head, deepening our kiss.

Passion ignited, and I swiftly shed my pants, her dress soon following, discarded beyond the room. We laughed, our laughter turning into kisses. I entered her pussy again, our rhythm slow and deliberate.

With a swift motion, I turned her, and she gasped as I claimed her in a new way. Her body was a canvas, and I explored every inch, holding her hair, then her neck, lifting her up as I took her ass.

As her pleasure built, I supported her, my hand caressing her pussy as I moved within her. Her release was powerful, a moan and a gentle spray of her essence. She pulled me close, her eyes locking with mine, and we kissed, our hearts intertwined.

We slept on the bed, and I entered her pussy once more, the wall offering support as we made love. Her leg wrapped around me, holding me close, as our kisses became more fervent.

In the quiet of the morning, I awoke to find her still asleep, her body nestled against mine. Her breath caressed my skin, her breasts soft against my chest, her limbs entwined with mine. I felt her drool, warm and wet, on my lips, and I smiled, my body responding to her closeness.

Gently, I touched her, my fingers sliding effortlessly into her pussy, our connection undeniable. I feigned sleep, my lips on hers, and felt her tense, her heart racing. She was aware, her senses alive, feeling every sensation.

Our story, a dance of desire and discovery, continued, each touch, each kiss, a verse in our intimate poem.

The night before, intoxicated by passion and substances, we surrendered to our desires. But as the haze of pleasure lifted, the full intensity of our actions became clear. I felt her gentle touch on my dick, a silent invitation that I pretended to sleep through, only to tease her with a subtle push back. Her gasp betrayed her surprise, and I knew she was eager for more.

The tension between us was palpable as we lay there, words unnecessary. As I tried to withdraw, my body betrayed me, and I spilled my desire, filling her pussy once more. 

Embarrassment flooded us, and we scrambled to separate, seeking solace in the shower's embrace.

My heart ached as I watched her delicate stride, stumbling while walking, knowing the reason for her discomfort.

The memory of our passionate encounter lingered as we silently ate breakfast. I had to buy few things from outside. 

So I ventured out, a mission to secure a plan B pill, my mind racing with thoughts of our future. Upon my return, I found her absence, a silent echo of my earlier departure.

The day unfolded, and she returned, bearing lunch. As I stepped away, I caught a glimpse of her in the bedroom, a vision in her lingerie, her curves captivating. The sight of her in my shirt, oversized and seductive, left me breathless as we prepared our meal.

I offered her the pills, a silent pact to forget the night's passion. Her relief was evident, and I sensed her unease. As we shared a moment, I noticed her forgotten belongings, a treasure trove of secrets. Birth control, condoms, and the tools of pleasure—a lube and a spray—spilled forth, revealing her hidden desires.

Her nervous laughter filled the air as I held her gaze, the lube and spray in my hand. "What's all this for?" I inquired, my voice laced with playful curiosity. Her response was a shy admission, a confession of her desire for more intimate moments.

I took her hand, my heart overflowing with understanding. We shared a tender lunch, where she confessed the intensity of our lovemaking. Her words, "I don't remember much," mirrored my own feelings.

As the day mellowed, I found myself drawn to her, standing by the couch. She nestled her head on my thighs, a silent invitation. Her breath caressed my dick, a kiss through the fabric, sending shivers down my spine. With a playful smile, she revealed my dick, her eyes reflecting awe. 

"You're enormous," she whispered, her touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. Her lips and tongue danced, a symphony of sensation, as she took me into her mouth, her skill surpassing any I'd known.

She held it in her lips and gasped....