Brother and sister connect after a long night of partying

Please complete the required fields.
Thank you for taking the time to report this Report submission to the webmaster. Please let us know why you are choosing to report this Report submission and then click the submit button at the bottom of the page

My sisters and I were always close growing up. I was the middle child and only boy; my sister Marie was two years older, and my younger sister Annie was born a mere 11 months after me. Despite moving away and going to colleges in separate areas of the country, we became even closer as young adults. The summer between my junior and senior years in college provided the greatest bonding experience for me and my siblings.

Marie had graduated from a university in Virginia and relocated to Boston for her first “real” job. Annie had transferred to Boston University, and I had landed an internship with a firm based in Woburn, just outside of Boston. My sisters found a great apartment in the Back Bay with an extra bedroom that I could occupy for the summer while they searched for a third roommate.

We did everything together — working out, concerts, dinners, nightlife, and plenty of partying. Interestingly, a group of probably 10 or so people we had grown up with had migrated to Boston for school or work, so we always had familiar faces and shared friends in and out of the apartment. My sisters and I were the ringleaders of this fun-loving group, and we happily enjoyed the time and experiences we shared.

One particular night from that summer remains forever etched in my memory — a night that I relive in my mind to this day almost three decades later. The evening started out innocently enough with dinner at the apartment and a bottle of wine shared with my two sisters. We were meeting up with four or five other friends at a bar in Brighton to see some guys we knew that played in an Aerosmith cover band. It was a warm, humid July night, and everyone was dressed more for the beach than a night on the town due to the heat and humidity.

I remember Marie (who typically dressed to the nines) in a tight t-shirt dress that perfectly hugged her petite 5′ 2″ body, nicely accentuating her firm breasts and ass. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she was wearing flat sandals instead of her typical four-inch heels. The absence of a panty line and her protruding nipples had me wondering if anything else was on underneath that dress. Annie was very casual too, in short-shorts and a cut-off polo shirt with just enough of her rock-hard abs and toned waistline exposed to turn that somewhat boyish outfit into something pretty damn sexy.

The night was a blast, filled with drinks, live music, dancing and laughter. At that time, Boston bars closed at midnight, which usually left us searching for late-night eats or another place to keep the party rolling. As was typically the case, the party found its way back to our apartment. Thankfully, we had stocked the fridge with beer before heading out.

Probably a dozen people filled our small living room, and a joint or two circled the space. Marie, who had been dancing most of the night, commandeered the stereo, insisting that the others dance with her. More than once I caught myself watching her athletic little body swaying, still trying to determine if she was wearing anything under that short dress.

Around 1:00 AM, the first few guests moved to the door, and Annie decided to call it a night. She headed to her room with a few girlfriends in tow. Marie was still pulling our remaining guests onto her makeshift dance floor, and I busied myself gathering beer bottles and bidding farewell to the parting friends until it was just Marie and me left in the living room.

“Dance with me, brother!” she demanded, extending her tiny hand in my direction.

I put down the last couple of bottles and moved toward her. Derek and the Dominoes were belting out “Layla”, and I protested lightly that it wasn’t much of a dance tune. Marie would have none of my objections.

“Quiet, you!” she snapped, pulling me against her. “It’s the piano solo — perfect for slow dancing!”

She threw her arms around me, pressed her body against mine, and her head fell on my chest. We probably looked like two eighth graders at a middle school dance. We had both had plenty to drink, and that only added to our slow dance swaying. Her ever-perky nipples pressed into my abdomen, and I had to awkwardly lean my pelvis away from her to conceal the erection I could feel stirring below.

4.8 6 votes
Story Rating
Pages ( 1 of 4 ): 1 234Next »
Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x