My s****r's Favorite Dress - Sex Stories

My s****r's Favorite Dress

It was late on Friday. I had agreed to help my Mom and step-dad out with some simple landscaping, and wanted to get going early, so opted to stay the night. There wasn’t much to do, and my parents were away for the weekend, off to Montreal, for whatever reason, staying a night or two to experience the night-life. I was all alone watching TV in the living room, very much bored, flipping through an endless stream of mindless entertainment. Frankly, I was starting to lose my head, and definitely in the process of losing my mind. There was a sudden crash at the back door. I turned my head, not very interested. My s****r Stassi lived with my parents, and had just returned from a night on the town. I heard her stumble into the hallway. She was d***k. I heard Stassi loose her footing, bracing herself against the wall, laughing her charming laugh. The confusion was intriguing, I wondered what had happened. Stassi stepped into the living room and stood before me. She was wearing a sweater; her curls fell in chaos around her aquiline face. Stassi was flushed from drinking, and wore underneath her sweater a black satin dress. A black satin dress with floral patterns I had ejaculated in countless times, a dress that had caused a rift between us. It had obviously been cleaned, as it caught the light and glistened in silken beauty, and rippled as Stassi sat down on a chair and crossed her legs. Stassi looked at me. “I’m d***k, Jim,” said Stassi as she raised her left hand to her face and ...

... gave a nauseous expression. I nodded and laughed, then said, “I know, Stassi. It’s pretty obvious. Where did you go tonight?” Stassi laughed and gently stoked her leg through her dress, “I went to Rachel’s party. It was fun,” she was sullen for a moment, paused and reflected, “You remember this dress right, Jim?” My heart sunk, and I averted my eyes in shame. All I could muster was a, “yes, I do, Stassi.” Stassi was triumphant and began unzipping her sweater. The act was unsettling, I felt manipulated but undeniably aroused. She finished taking her sweater off, tossing it on the ground. Underneath the sweater, the dress top was a bustier, with thin spaghetti straps leading up Stassi’s smooth, pale skin. The strands were tied in a flimsy bow around her neck. Stassi tossed her curls and smiled, admiring her chest. My arousal grew in bounds when I noticed Stassi’s nipples were firm. “I love this dress, Jim. I can’t believe you masturbated into it, you jerk!” She laughed and stared at me. Her hands traced around her breasts, my penis stiffened. “I love you too, Jim.” Stassi got up from the chair and sat next to me on the couch. She wrapped her arms around me and hummed softly, laughing on occasion in a d***ken stupor. I froze in a panic, the satin of her dress gently rubbing against the exposed skin of my arms, her breasts pressed firm against my chest. “You must think I’ve gone crazy!” said Stassi laughing into my neck, the smell of her body and hair mingled with the sound of her ...