There was a click, followed moments later by another click. My door remained closed. She had gone into her own bedroom. I sighed in relief, vowing to never try and spy on her again. I quickly started typing, trying to get through the rest of the rewrite, hoping I remembered everything Shelly had said.
As I typed away, I began hearing soft moans. I stopped typing, straining to make out the sounds, but they quit as soon as I stopped typing. With a shrug, I began typing again, blaming it on my imagination. Within a minute the moans resumed. This time I kept hitting a key with my finger, as I concentrated on the sounds coming through the wall. I was certain what they were, and as I continued striking the key, leaving a long row of “l’s” tracing across the screen, I closed my eyes, imagining I could see through the wall at what was going on just a few feet away.
Shelly was lying on her back, her legs slightly parted, as her fingers gently explored the fine hair covering her womanhood. Her pussy lips were swollen and glistening with moisture as her fingers continued to raise her excitement. Her breasts, the nipples hard, quivered ever so slightly as she shook in anticipation. Her breathing became forced, each breath a struggle as her fingers inched closer.
My free hand moved down to my shorts, and pulled my cock free. It sprang to attention, eager to be touched as my mind drew even more vivid pictures of my sister.
Her free hand cupped her left breast, lifting it toward her mouth. The nipple almost touching her lips she flicked her tongue out, jumping at the sudden contact. I stood there, beside her bed, watching as her fingers made contact. Her whole body tensed as she brushed across the lips.
“That’s it. Take it slow, David.” she whispered. Actually no sound came out, but I could read the words on her lips.
I just watched, as her fingers slowly entered, parting the glistening lips of her womanhood. It was slow, deliberate, as if she thought about each movement for hours. Again she mouthed my name, telling me to take her. I wanted to do it, more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life. But I stayed motionless. This was her fantasy, her time, and I wasn’t going to spoil it.
She didn’t shove her fingers deep inside like I thought she would. Instead, she continued to gently caress herself; sometimes penetrating a bit, sometimes caressing the outer lips. There was no hesitation, no hint of anything but controlled determination. Again she mouthed my name, as the muscles in her legs and stomach tightened. I struggled with the burning within me, every fiber of my being screaming for me to answer her call, to give her what she so desperately needed, what I so desperately needed.
I felt my own desire rising, threatening to consume me as she slowly worked herself toward a pinnacle of pleasure. Her body arched up of the bed, as she once again called to me. My own body responded, my cock twitching and pulsing with need. Still I stood motionless, out of respect or out of fear, I’m not sure which.