Clarissa

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College

“Robbie, what are you doing in there? I have to pee.”

“I’m in the shower.”

“Hurry up. I have to pee badly.”

“I just started.”

That’s how it began. My sister, Clarissa, had to pee and I had the only bathroom unavailable while I showered.

“I just got soaped up and I still have to wash my hair,” I added.

“I don’t know if I can hold it much longer,” cried Clarissa.

“I’ll hurry up but it will be at least two minutes.”

Now, it is well known that the length of a minute depends on which side of the bathroom door you’re on.

“I’m not going to make it.”

“The door’s unlocked. If you’re that desperate, come in and pee for God’s sake!”

“I can’t do that. I can’t pee in front of you.”

“Pee out there or pee in here. Your choice and, besides, I’m in the shower. I can hardly watch you. You can pee behind me.”

“You swear you won’t look,” she demanded.

“I won’t look,” I said but I did listen.

Clarissa rushed into the bathroom, closed the door and, in less than a second, I heard the sound of her pee splashing in the bowl water. She was right. She really did have to pee. I could have finished my shower before she finished peeing if I hadn’t stopped to listen.

Eventually, she did finish. I heard the sound of paper being pulled off the roll. I assumed she wiped and pulled up her shorts before she flushed the toilet. I didn’t look at her, but the light over the shower was on so I stroked my cock several times to enhance its limp shape and stood facing the front of the shower hoping she might see me in silhouette through the fogged glass shower door on the side.

“Thanks Robbie,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded.

Clarissa lingered for just a moment before she left and closed the door behind her.

Clarissa is my sister. She’s just completed her junior year in high school and her eighteenth birthday was a few weeks ago. I’m Robert Allen, Robbie to my friends and family. I’m two years older than Clarissa and just finished my freshman year at the local community college. I’m working afternoons and evenings as a waiter at a local chain restaurant, thus the early afternoon shower before going to work.

Obviously, we’re both living at home with Clarice, our mother. She’s been divorced for almost eight years, something she rarely talks about unless someone mentions the “skinny bitch” my father married seven and a half years ago. About seven years ago, our mother insisted we call her Clarice, not ma, mom or mother. She said it would promote adult relationships between us and her and improve communication.

Our house is small by most of today’s standards. It has three bedrooms but only one bathroom. It hasn’t been a problem until Clarissa had to pee so badly.

So I live with Clarice and Clarissa. They are remarkably similar including their names. The story is that Clarice, our mother, wanted to name her daughter after herself but relented when dad pointed out the confusion that would cause for years. They compromised on Clarissa. It still causes confusion sometimes but that’s the way it is.

Physically, Clarice and Clarissa could be sisters. They’re both, adorable, innocent, gullible and small built, except for the size of their breasts. They both have breasts larger than you’d expect on women only five foot two inches tall. Not humongous, but larger than a handful. Actually, I don’t know that for a fact. I look at my hand and then at either of their breasts, through shirts and bras, and can only estimate. Sometimes the estimate is all I need at night when I’m restless in my room trying to sleep.

Neither of us, Clarissa nor I, said anything about the bathroom incident.

Three days later, I was again taking a shower before going to work when there was a gentle knock on the door. “Robbie, can I come in. I have to pee.”

No desperation this time. Just a calm request. I wondered if my sister wasn’t as innocent as I thought.

“Sure,” I answered.

“No looking.”

“I won’t look.”

She came in and walked slowly to the toilet. I had my back to the room, using soapy hands to encourage my cock to attention. She took her time. By the sound of it, she wasn’t close to an emergency situation. I had the thought she was deliberately trying to prolong the process. She finished, wiped, pulled up her shorts and flushed.

I turned in silhouette again and acted as if she wasn’t in the room. I actually had the nerve to wash my slight erection as she lingered longer than necessary before remembering to leave. “Thanks,” she said.

“Anytime,” I responded.

A week later, she was there again. “Robbie, can I come in and pee?”

“No problem,” I agreed.

She came in, closed the door and walked to the toilet as before. She didn’t ask me not to look. I listened and I looked. I wiped a small circle in the steamed up shower door and watched as she lifted the seat cover, pulled down her shorts and panties together and sat down with her legs slightly spread. I listened as she peed and then reached for the toilet güvenilir bahis paper.

“Shit,” she said. “We’re out of paper.”

Now that was a first. We’re never out of paper in the bathroom. The unwritten rule is, “if you use the end of the roll, you replace it.” No one has ever broken the rule in my memory. I hadn’t noticed since I just pee in the shower and I don’t need paper afterward. Clarissa had a problem, damp from peeing and out of paper.

She stood up with her pants around her ankles and tried to walk across the room to the cabinet under the sink where we keep the toilet paper. I rubbed a larger circle in the steamed shower glass and focused all my attention on the drama in the room in front of me.

Clarissa couldn’t walk easily. She removed one leg from the bunched up pants and panties and kicked them off with the other foot. She walked easily to the cabinet and retrieved a roll of paper. It looked smaller than usual to me but I’m no expert on the correct size of a roll of toilet paper.

Clarissa walked casually back to the toilet, mounted the partial roll of paper, pulled off a couple of sheets, dried herself, threw the paper in the toilet and flushed everything. She bent over, picked up her knotted pants and panties, stood facing me as she separated them and put them on slowly, one at a time.

“Thanks,” she said as she headed for the door.

“Don’t be so shy next time,” I said as she left.

I stood in the shower, hot water running down my chest as I held my cock in one hand and replayed the last several minutes. I rubbed my cock more firmly as I recalled the perfect triangle of dark curly hair pointing down toward my sister’s pussy. I came forcefully into the air between the shower head and my erection. I noticed a lingering, sweet aroma as I climbed out of the shower. I cleaned up, dried, went to my room with the towel around my waist, dressed and headed to work.

Over the next few weeks, Clarissa’s need to pee coincided with my need to shower more frequently. Each time Clarissa performed innocently and I stroked feverishly.

About four weeks later, I began to hang around the house when I had the evening off. My usual routine was to go to the neighborhood pub and shoot pool or darts with the other patrons. Instead, I stayed home in my room with the door ajar, reading or looking at porn on my computer. It took three days but eventually I was home when Clarissa decided to shower. Clarice was out with her girlfriends at a book club meeting or visiting a strip club. It could have been either since she was unusually open about her activities but I paid little attention.

Clarissa walked past my bedroom to the bathroom with her soap, shampoo and towel. I waited about two minutes and approached the bathroom door. I could hear the shower running so I knocked on the door.

“What do you want?” Clarissa asked.

“I need to pee,” I stated.

“Now?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, now.”

“Can’t you wait?” she asked.

“Have I ever asked you to wait?” I asked in return.

“Well, okay but be quick and don’t look at me.”

I walked into the bathroom, lifted the toilet seat, peed, shook off the last drop and put down both the seat and cover, another unwritten rule. Throughout, Clarissa continued to shower and I could see, in silhouette, as she carefully washed her breasts. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she responded.

I got lucky again a week later. Clarice was out again and Clarissa was in the shower again. I knocked.

“What now?”

“I need to pee.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“It’s okay I guess.”

I came in and peed as before. I lingered after I was finished.

“What are you doing now?” Clarissa asked.

“Just thinking.”

“And watching I bet.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Do you like what you see?”

“I can’t see much, but enough to tickle my imagination.”

“I don’t hear you laughing.”

“But I am smiling.”

“I’m done. Will you hand me my towel before you leave?” she asked.

I took her towel off the hook next to the shower, a hook she could easily reach herself if she opened the shower door just a crack. I assumed she didn’t want to open the door any distance with me in the room.

I lifted the towel, intending to pass it to her over the shower door. I was shocked into immobility as Clarissa opened the shower door and held out her hand. “Well, hand it to me already,” she said.

I handed the towel to my naked sister, standing in the shower in front of me with water dripping off her perfectly formed nipples and streaming through her perfectly shaped triangle of pubic hair. Two things happened simultaneously. She took the towel and began to dry her face and arms and I got an erection. She gave the towel back to me as she stepped out of the shower. “Since you’re here you can be useful,” she said as she turned around. “Dry my back please,” she ordered.

I dried her back carefully and gently. “Thanks,” she said, “I can take it from here.” When I didn’t move quickly enough, she looked türkçe bahis at me scornfully and nodded toward the door. I took the hint and left the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I walked unsteadily to my room and plopped down on my bed.

In my wildest dreams I would have never imagined the events of the last few minutes. My heart was racing and my erection hard until it was painful. I watched through the open bedroom door as my sister walked past with a towel just around her waist on the way to her bedroom. I needed to process what had just happened. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t try to get myself off before going to sleep.

The next morning was no different from any other. Clarice was a little more upbeat than usual. I attributed it to her visit to a strip club the previous evening. Clarissa was her normal, quiet self. I, on the other hand, was nervous as a cat watching a mouse. I was on edge that someone, probably Clarissa, would say something that would lead to in depth, revealing conversation. Nothing like that occurred.

Today was a workday for me. I lazed around all morning and headed for the shower in the afternoon to prepare for work. I was barely in the shower when someone knocked on the door.

“Yes,” I said.

“Robbie, it’s me,” said Clarissa.

“What do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

“Do you have to pee?”

“No. I just want to come in.”

Given the events of yesterday, I could hardly refuse but I wondered what she was up to.

“Okay. Whatever you want,” I said.

The door opened and Clarissa came into the bathroom and closed the door again. I watched as she leaned against the cabinets. I realized that if I could see her she could probably see me. I was disturbed at the thought and excited as well. Less than twenty-four hours ago I watched my naked sister in the shower and now she was watching me, naked in the shower.

I finished my shower and opened the shower door. “Can you hand me the towel, please?” I asked.

Clarissa took my towel off the hook and stood, holding it, in front of me. I reached for it but she made no move to hand it to me. She just stared and smiled. She broke the silence, “Can I dry you off?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Why not?” I asked myself.

She came toward me. She started with my face, neck and shoulders. She followed up with my arms, chest and back. She rubbed the towel down my back and slowly over my cheeks. She repeated the motion several times until I was sure they were beyond dry. My legs and feet followed quickly. What remained caused her to pause in her efforts.

“May I?” she asked.

“May I what?” I asked.

“May I touch it?” she said softly.

“It does need to be dried,” I stated.

She reached out, slowly lifted my penis and touched it with the towel. She followed up with my testicles. “All done,” she said.

“No,” I thought. “Just starting.” “Thank you,” I said.

“You’re more than welcome,” she said as she left the bathroom.

I went to work. I have no idea where Clarissa went. My shift seemed endless. I got home a little after ten. No one was awake. I heard Clarice snoring quietly in her bedroom. Clarissa’s room was eerily quiet. I went by the bathroom and then to my room to get ready for bed. I stripped down to my boxers and was just about to climb into bed when someone knocked on my door. I went to the door and whispered, “Clarissa, is that you?”

“Yes. Can I come in please? We have to talk.”

“Why do I think she wants to do more than talk?” I asked myself as I opened the door and let Clarissa in.

“Let me put on a robe,” I said.

“No. You’re fine. I’m okay with it,” she replied.

I sat in the only chair while Clarissa sat on the edge of the bed. She was wearing a lightweight, sleeveless T-shirt, no bra and a short skirt that rode up when she slid forward on the bed. I wasn’t sure but I didn’t think she was wearing panties. We had three items of clothing between us and hundreds of ideas.

I waited. This was Clarissa’s meeting. After a short period of obvious discomfort, she said, “Robbie, I need to tell you something. After this afternoon, I’ve been unable to think about anything else. I touched you and I felt something I’ve never felt before. I can’t explain it and I’m having trouble dealing with it.”

I didn’t respond verbally. I thought the best course was to let Clarissa talk. I did lean forward in my seat to encourage her.

“I touched you,” she continued, “and I want to do it again. Is that so wrong? I’ve never felt compelled like this before. I had a feeling spread throughout my body when I held you and I want to know if it was real or imagined.”

I sat still and listened.

“You could say something,” she complained.

“Is that the first time you’ve touched a man in that manner?” I asked.

If she was stunned by the question, she covered it well. Maybe she expected the question. “No,” she answered. “Once, last summer, I was in the backseat of a car with a guy from school. Things got pretty heavy and I let him touch my breasts güvenilir bahis siteleri and he took out his penis and put my hand on it. I didn’t react well and he drove me home.”

“So you’re a virgin?” I asked.

Another tough question. She answered without hesitation. “I think so.”

“You think so. How can that be? You’ve either had sex with a guy or you haven’t. I don’t think there’s anyway you wouldn’t remember a life changing event like that?”

“Are you a virgin and, if not, do you remember your first time?” she interjected.

“I’m not and I do but you’re changing the subject. We’re talking about you.”

“Okay. Last term, after the prom, I was at a party. My date led me to a bedroom in the back of the house where the party was. I knew what he wanted. Everybody knows what’s expected at after prom parties and I went willingly. We got pretty intense, awkwardly helping each other out of our clothes. I was on my back on the bed and he was over me. He rubbed his erection back and forth between my pussy lips and I was more than ready to let him push inside me when, for reasons I still can’t understand, he stopped. He told me he couldn’t do it. Something inside him told him to stop and he did. We got dressed in silence and we left the party. That’s it.”

“I’m no expert but I’d say you’re still a virgin.”

“But I haven’t had a hymen for years and he did have his cock against my vagina.”

“There’s a big difference. Someday, after your first time, know exactly what I mean.” “Maybe tonight,” I thought.

“Thanks for that,” she said. “I’ve told my story, you should tell me yours.”

I didn’t expect that but, what the hell, it couldn’t hurt to share with her. “After high school, I met this girl at MCCC. I drove us up into the reservation between classes and parked off the road behind some large bushes. We got physical and personal quickly. She had my penis out and was stroking it until I was erect. I had her blouse open, her bra unhooked and was fondling her bare tits and teasing her nipples with my fingers. She suggested we get into the back seat. I got in with my erection still exposed. She paused and removed her panties from under her skirt before she got in. I less than a second she was straddling me and I was buried deeply inside her. It didn’t last long. I came inside her but I think she got more from it than I did. It was my first time and I’ll never forget it although I wish it had been more romantic.”

“Shit,” said Clarissa. “Is that how most first times are?”

“I think so. Hormones are pretty powerful and overwhelm conscious thought. I know one guy who says he paid for it the first time and another who claims he was number four when the local slut entertained everyone one afternoon after school but I think most first times are emotional and quick and usually in a car, behind the garage or during a party.”

Clarissa seemed relaxed at this point and wanted to talk more.

“Robbie, I’ve been looking at things on the internet after this afternoon.”

“You mean porn?” I asked.

“I guess you’d call it that. I’ve watched lots of short videos of men and women engaged in lots of things with each other.”

“Sounds like porn to me. Most of it is staged but it does reflect what real people do when they have sex.”

“Is it all sex? Most of it wasn’t just fucking. They did things with their hands and mouths.”

“Yeah, its all sex but I guess you’d still be a virgin if you didn’t actually fuck.” I hoped she’d walk through the opening I left.

“Robbie,” she asked softly. “Can I touch you again?”

“You’re my sister but if you really want to, sure.”

“Is it bad being your sister? I know about incest and stuff but if we’re not going to have a baby how can it be wrong?”

“I don’t think it is. It’s probably more common than most people admit since no one talks about it. Yes, you’re my sister but I love you and I trust you. That’s more than exists with most people having sex.”

I stood up and moved in front of her. She separated her legs so I could stand between them. I stood there while she made her decision. I confirmed she wasn’t wearing panties. She looked into my eyes as she placed her hands on my hips. I smiled and threw her a kiss. She looked straight ahead, directly at my crotch as she pulled my boxers down my legs and released my very erect cock. She was close enough that it almost hit her in the nose. She gasped and giggled quietly as she reached up and took my erection in her right hand. She looked up again as she stroked my erection. I threw her another kiss. She looked down, leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the head of my cock.

I almost lost it right there. I had never been kissed like that before. Only enormous self-control kept me from erupting over her face. My body must have reacted because she looked up at me again, threw me a kiss and leaned in until she slipped my glans over her lips had my cock in her mouth. She used her tongue around the glans each time she bobbed up and sucked when she bobbed down.

She took a pause. “Am I doing it right?” she asked.

“Sis,” I said. “There is no right way or wrong way but that’s the best I’ve ever felt.” Actually, it was only the second time a woman had sucked my cock and the last time she was only trying to speed up my erection.

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