Massage to my pregnant sister

My name is Peter, and my sister Stephanie is 27 years old, currently 26 weeks pregnant. She's the kind of beautiful that stops people in their tracks—5'4" tall, about 120 pounds, with long, wavy brown hair that falls down her back like silk, bright green eyes that light up when she smiles, full C-cup breasts that look even more inviting now with the pregnancy glow, and curvy hips that give her that perfect hourglass shape. Her smile is sweet and warm, the type that makes everyone around her feel good, and she's always been the popular one, drawing friends like moths to a flame. Even though she's eight years older than me, we've always been super close. We hang out with the same group of people, share hobbies like watching cheesy horror movies late into the night or going on easy hikes, and talk about everything without holding back.

When her boyfriend ditched her the moment she told him about the baby, it broke my heart for her. But deep down, a selfish part of me was excited—she moved back into our family home with me and our parents. I've always loved her more than a brother should, nursing this quiet crush since I was a teenager. It started innocent, just admiring how pretty she was, but then she announced the pregnancy, and it hit different. I've got this intense pregnancy kink—the way a woman's body changes, the round belly, the extra curves—it drives me wild. Seeing Steph's small frame start to show early on, her belly swelling under her shirts, made that attraction explode. Now at 26 weeks, it's a full, smooth dome pushing out, making her look so fertile and sexy. Having her around the house all the time, in those tight leggings or soft tees that hug her bump, it's been hell trying to act normal. I catch myself staring, my mind wandering to what it would feel like to touch her.

About two weeks ago, during family dinner, she winced and rubbed her lower back. "God, Pete, this little kicker is already wrecking my spine," she groaned, one hand on her belly, the other pressing into the ache. Our parents murmured sympathies, but I saw my chance to help—and maybe get closer. "Hey, I could give you a massage if you want," I said casually. "Remember that time I fixed my pulled muscle from hiking? Worked like a charm."

Her green eyes lit up, that sweet smile breaking through the pain. "You serious? Oh man, that'd be a lifesaver. My back feels like it's been hit by a bus."

The next evening, after Mom and Dad went to bed, she came into the living room wearing a soft light pink T-shirt that stretched a bit over her early bump and black leggings that hugged her legs and ass. We sat on the couch, her cross-legged in front of me while I knelt behind, my hands hovering for a second before touching her. "Just relax, Steph. Let me know if it's too hard or anything," I said, my voice steady even as my pulse raced from being this close.

"Mmm, that's already perfect," she sighed, tilting her head forward, her hair brushing my fingers. I started with her neck, thumbs circling the tight muscles, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin shirt. She let out a soft hum, and I moved to her shoulders, kneading deeper, tracing the straps of her bra. The scent of her vanilla lotion filled the air, mixing with something uniquely her—sweet and a little musky. As I worked down to her lower back, pressing into the knots just above her hips, she arched slightly. "Oh, Pete... right there. You're killing it."

It felt so good, my hands on her body, but I kept it tame—no wandering. We wrapped up after twenty minutes, her rolling her shoulders with a grin. "Thanks, little bro. I feel human again." She gave me a quick hug before heading upstairs, her hips swaying in those leggings. That night, alone in bed, I had a dream that wouldn't quit: me massaging her everywhere, hands slipping under her clothes, her turning to me with those green eyes full of heat, pulling me down for more. I woke up sweating, my dick throbbing hard against the sheets, her name stuck in my throat.

Three nights later, around 10 PM, there was a soft knock on my bedroom door. I was just chilling on my phone, but my heart jumped when she peeked in. "Hey, Pete," she said, her voice soft and tired, dressed in her go-to bedtime outfit—a tight black tank top that showed the curve of her breasts and a sliver of belly skin, paired with tiny gray PJ shorts that rode high on her thighs. "You got time for another massage? My back's acting up bad again, and I was hoping for a real one this time—not just the quick couch rub."

My mouth went dry, but I played it cool. "Yeah, of course. Hop on the bed." She smiled, relieved, and grabbed a couple of my pillows to stack under her chest and belly. "Smart idea with the pillows," I said, watching her settle on her stomach, her ass lifting just a bit as she got comfy, the shorts pulling tight.

"Pillows are genius for the bump. Thanks for doing this—I seriously owe you," she replied, burying her face in the crook of her arm. I straddled her calves lightly, not pressing too hard, and started at her neck—slow, firm circles that made her melt instantly. "Mmm, yes... just like that. Feels so good already."

I worked down her shoulders, feeling the tank top shift under my palms, then along her spine, pressing into every tense spot. Her skin was so soft, warm from the day's heat, and I could hear her breathing deepen. When I reached her lower back, she wiggled a little. "Go lower if you want—it's sore there too." I did, hands flattening over the small of her back, thumbs digging in. Then, heart pounding, I moved to her legs—starting at her thighs, squeezing the firm muscle, down to her calves, and finally her feet. As I rubbed her arches, her shorts hiked up, giving me a clear view up the leg: light blue lace panties, sheer enough to hint at the curve of her pussy. She started moaning low, throaty sounds that shot straight to my groin. "God, your hands are magic, Pete. Don't stop the feet—it's sending tingles everywhere."

Each press drew out another moan, and I felt my dick harden fully, straining against my shorts. Luckily, her head stayed down, eyes closed; if she glanced back, she'd see the obvious bulge. We went about 45 minutes total, her body totally relaxed by the end. She sat up slow, cheeks a little flushed, and leaned in for a kiss on my cheek—her lips soft and warm, lingering just a beat. "You're the best brother in the world. Sweet dreams."

I barely slept, replaying those moans, that panty glimpse. Jerked off twice before dawn.

A few nights after that, we had some friends over for a casual backyard hangout—string lights, a small fire pit, beers for the guys, fizzy water for Steph. Jake, one of our mutual buddies, grinned at her swollen belly. "So, Steph, how's the pregnancy treating you? Any weird cravings yet—like pickles and ice cream?"

She laughed, that bright, easy sound, rubbing her bump affectionately. "Cravings? Food-wise, nah. But... okay, cards on the table, I've been stupid horny lately. Like, non-stop. The hormones are insane. I've been touching myself three, four times a day easy. Dug out every toy I own last week—vibrators, dildos, the works. Nothing's hitting right, though. It's like I need something more."

The group chuckled, ribbing her good-naturedly, but I was glued to my seat, cock rock-hard under the table, throbbing at her words. *Horny.* *Touching myself.* *Toys.* Coming from her lips, so casual in front of everyone—it was torture. She caught my stare across the fire, her green eyes holding mine a second too long, a sly little smirk tugging her mouth like she knew the effect.

Once the crew cleared out, she found me in the kitchen scraping plates into the trash. "Pete? Mind if we do another massage tonight? Pretty please? That 'itch' from earlier is back full force." Her voice was light, but there was a husky edge, her hand brushing my arm.

"Anything for my favorite sis," I said, forcing a grin despite the heat pooling in my gut. Up in my room, door clicked shut, same pillow setup on the bed. She stripped down to tank and shorts, stretching out on her stomach with a content sigh. "Hit me with it—make me forget everything."

I started routine: neck, shoulders, thumbs working the knots until she hummed. Down her back, palms gliding smooth. But when I hit her lower back, I didn't pull away—hands drifted lower, cupping her ass cheeks through the thin shorts. She tensed for a heartbeat, then relaxed with a soft gasp. "Oh... that's new. But... mmm, don't stop. Squeeze harder—it feels amazing."

Fuck, her ass was perfect—soft, round, yielding under my fingers. I kneaded deeper, thumbs pressing into the crease where thigh met cheek, watching the fabric ride up inch by inch. A flash of black thong, thin strap disappearing between her lips. She moaned louder now, hips shifting like she was grinding into the bed. "Pete... yeah, just like that. God, you're good at this." My cock brushed her calf accidentally—once, twice—twitching hard; I swallowed a groan, praying she didn't notice.

I kept going a while, lost in the feel of her, before forcing myself down to her thighs—squeezing the inner muscles, close but not too close—then calves, ending with a long foot rub. "You're so tense all over," I murmured, trying to sound like it was just brotherly concern.

She chuckled, breathy. "Blame the damn hormones. But seriously, this is the best one yet. I feel... loose." She sat up, face pink and glowing, shorts askew. Leaning in, she kissed my cheek—lips grazing the corner of my mouth, warm and teasing. "Thanks, hero. Night."

Door shut, I yanked down my shorts and stroked furiously, her ass in my hands, those moans—cumming hard in under a minute, panting her name.

The very next night, she didn't even knock—just pushed my door open around 9:30, looking flushed and restless. "Pete? Massage round four? I'm straight-up dying over here—the back, the everything." Her tank top was twisted, showing the soft underside of one breast, hair messy like she'd been tossing in bed.

"Get your ass in here," I said, half-laughing to hide the rush. She did, pillows ready, but midway through her shoulders—my hands on bare skin peeking from the strap—she paused. "Hang on, it's too hot in this thing." She sat up, back to me, and tugged the tank top over her head in one smooth pull, tossing it aside. Her bare back was there—smooth, lightly freckled shoulders sloping to the dip of her spine, skin golden in the lamp light. No bra. She lay back down topless, adjusting the pillows under her chest. "Much better. Your turn to work your magic."

My hands shook as I touched her—pure skin now, so warm and silky. Down her back, over the curve of her sides, then to her ass again; she arched right into it. "Yes, Pete... God, that pressure. Keep going." The moans were deeper, her body responding like it craved more. At her feet, she twisted suddenly. "Wait—can you do my front too? The bump makes flipping a pain, but I trust you completely."

Brain blank. She rolled over slow, kicking pillows aside, laying back with arms loose at her sides. Holy shit—full view. Her breasts, fuller from the pregnancy, round and perky with small pink nipples already tightening in the air. Her belly rose proud, skin stretched smooth and tight, navel popped out like an invitation. She didn't cover a thing, just smiled up at me soft and open. "Shoulders first? Or wherever feels right."

"Yeah... top down," I managed, voice rough. Hands on her shoulders, sliding across her collarbone, down her sides—brushing the outer curves of her tits, feeling them give soft under my pinkies. Up her sternum, close enough to feel the heat. She sighed, eyes drifting shut. "You can... touch them, you know. If it helps loosen things up. They're sore too."

"You sure about that?" I whispered, blood roaring in my ears.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. "Please. It's fine—we're family. Feels good already." Heart slamming, I adjusted—sweeping lower, then higher, palms fully cupping her breasts now. Heavy, warm, nipples hard against my thumbs as I circled light. She gasped sharp, a quiet "Oh..." slipping out, back arching just a fraction. "Mmm, Pete... that's... so perfect. A little harder on the nipples—yeah."

One hand stayed there, pinching and rolling gently—drawing deeper moans—while the other traced her belly, palm flat over the firm swell, feeling a tiny kick flutter under my fingers. "Baby's active tonight," I said, voice thick.

"Feel that? He's feisty," she murmured, but her hand guided mine lower, over the curve. "Keep going down... please." Fingertips dipped under her shorts' waistband, grazing the rough patch of pubic bone, then the soft mound. She thrust her hips up subtle, chasing the touch. "Yes... right there. More."

I did it again, bolder—sliding the tips of my fingers along the edge, feeling the heat. Her thong was soaked, the fabric clinging. On the next pass, she grabbed my wrist—eyes opening to lock on mine, dark and needy. "Pete... touch me for real. I need it so bad. Don't make me beg."

With that push, my hand cupped her pussy fully through the lace—hot, slick, pulsing. I shoved the thong aside, middle and ring fingers parting her folds, then sliding in deep. "Fuck, Steph—you're so wet," I breathed, the tight heat clenching around me like a vice.

She yanked a pillow over her face quick, but the moan was muffled thunder. "Oh God, yes... finger me, little bro. Just like that—slow at first." I pumped steady, thumb finding her clit—swollen and slick—rubbing circles. Her hips bucked, belly jiggling soft, breasts heaving with each breath. "Faster now... harder... fuck, don't stop." I curled my fingers inside, hitting that spongy spot, while my other hand tweaked her nipples in rhythm. The room smelled like sex—her arousal thick in the air.

"Pete! I'm—oh fuck, I'm gonna cum so hard!" she gasped from under the pillow.

"Cum for me, sis—let go," I urged, thrusting deep and fast. She arched off the bed, whole body shaking, pillow clamped tight over her mouth—a long, muffled "Fuuuuck!" vibrating through as her walls spasmed, juices gushing over my palm, down my wrist.

I eased the pace, milking every aftershock, then slid out slow—fingers dripping. She panted heavy, tossing the pillow aside after a minute, eyes glassy and satisfied. "Holy shit, Pete... that was intense. Exactly what I needed—thank you." No weirdness, just a lazy, happy smile as she sat up, grabbing her tank and slipping it back on. She leaned in, kissing my cheek soft, lips brushing my jaw. "You're amazing. Night, hero."

Door closed, I freed my aching cock—still slick with her—and stroked once, twice. Came buckets in seconds, collapsing back with her taste on my tongue from where I'd licked my fingers clean.

Next morning in the kitchen, I braced for awkward, but she breezed in normal as ever—bumping my hip with hers, pouring coffee. "Morning, my massage wizard. Want some?" She hugged me from behind, belly pressing warm against my back, lingering a second. If anything, she's been more touchy since—extra hugs that squeeze tight, kisses on the cheek that land closer to my lips, little inside jokes whispered when parents aren't looking.

Two nights later, she slipped into my room post-dinner, eyes sparkling. "Massage time? But let's really make it count tonight—I've been wet thinking about it all day." Same buildup: pillows, tank off quick for skin-on-skin, ass rub that had her grinding back with "Harder, Pete—fuck, yes." Flipped to front, tits in my hands, belly under my palm. Fingers inside her sooner, longer—edging her slow, pulling back when she got close. "Please... don't tease. Make me cum, little bro—need it bad." I did, twice, her begging between moans, body slick with sweat. When she finally crashed down, she sat up glowing, pulled me in for our first real kiss—lips parting soft, tongues brushing tentative, tasting sweet like her mint gum. "Mmm... we should do more of that," she whispered, then slipped out with a wink.

And tonight—September 29, 2025—parents are out for a date night, house quiet and ours. It's barely dark when she knocks, but doesn't wait—pushes in wearing just a loose white T-shirt that hits mid-thigh, no bra, no shorts, nipples poking through the fabric, her bare legs endless. Locks the door behind her, turns to me with those green eyes burning. "Pete... I can't stop thinking about you. Your hands, your fingers inside me, that kiss. Fuck the massages—I need more. I need *you*."

My cock jumps instant, tenting my sweats. "Steph... you mean—"

She steps close, hand on my chest, feeling my heart hammer. "I mean everything. Fuck pretending it's just relief. I've wanted to feel your mouth, your cock—been fantasizing about it since that first ass squeeze." She grabs the hem of her shirt, lifts it slow—naked underneath, belly full and round, pussy lips puffy and already glistening with want, a thin trail of wetness on her inner thigh.

I pull her to the bed gentle, crashing our mouths together—fierce, hungry, tongues tangling wet and desperate. "God, I've dreamed of this every night," I groan against her lips, tasting her, hands roaming her sides.

She tugs my shirt off rough, nails scraping my chest light. "Me too. Your hands on my ass, playing with my tits, fingering me deep—it's all I can think about. Touch me everywhere." She falls back on the pillows, pulling me over her careful—straddling her thighs, mindful of the bump. I kiss down her neck, sucking the pulse point, then latch onto one nipple—hard and pebbled, sucking deep, tongue flicking. A faint milky sweetness hits my tongue; she arches hard. "Yes... suck them like that. The pregnancy makes them ache so good—harder, Pete!"

I switch breasts, lavishing the other while pinching the wet one, hand stroking her belly in circles—feeling the skin taut, warm, a kick fluttering under my palm. "So fucking sexy like this," I murmur, kissing lower—over the swell, tongue dipping into her popped-out navel, making her squirm and giggle-moan.

"Lower... please, eat my pussy," she begs, thighs spreading wide, knees falling open. The scent hits me—musky, sweet arousal, her lips parted and shiny. "Spread for me, sis—wanna taste you proper."

"Fuck yes—make me scream your name." I dive in, tongue flat and broad over her clit, lapping slow from hole to nub. She's drenched, flavor tangy on my tongue; I suck her clit gentle, then harder, two fingers sliding back in easy—curling right to that spot. "Oh fuck... right there! Your tongue's better than any toy—deeper, lick me clean!" Her hands fist my hair, hips grinding up, belly brushing my forehead with each thrust. I add a third finger, stretching her, pumping fast while sucking—her thighs quake, moans turning wild and loud.

"Pete—don't stop, gonna cum... oh God!" She floods my mouth, back bowing off the bed, a sharp cry ripping out—"Fuck, yes! Pete!"—walls clamping my fingers, juices dripping down my chin.

I crawl up, shedding sweats—cock springing free, thick and veined, pre-cum beading at the tip. Her eyes go wide, hand wrapping around it firm, stroking slow. "So big... look at you. I need this inside me—now, little bro. Fill your pregnant sister up."

"You sure? With the baby—I don't wanna hurt—"

She shakes her head frantic, pulling me closer. "Doctor said it's safe—feels even better now. Side-lying, like spooning? Come on, fuck me." We shift quick—her on her side, facing away, one leg hooked back over mine. I nestle behind, cock nudging her entrance, rubbing the slick folds. "Ready? Tell me if—"

"Yes—slide in slow. Want to feel every inch." I thrust gentle, tip breaching, then deeper—inch by inch into tight, velvety heat that grips like nothing else. "Oh God, Pete... you're so full—stretching me perfect. Move now... fuck me deep."

I do—pulling back, slamming home, hand cupping her belly from behind, the other sliding up to pinch her nipple. Skin slaps wet, her ass pressing back to meet me, moans syncing with my grunts. "Harder... yes! Hit that spot—your cock's hitting everything!" Sweat slicks us, the bed creaking; I angle deeper, thumb finding her clit from the front, rubbing fast.

"Fuck, Steph—gonna cum soon. You're too tight," I gasp, pace brutal now.

"Cum inside—fill my pussy! Breed me, little bro!" Her words snap it—she clenches hard, shattering again with a wail—"Pete! Yes—fuck, cumming!"—milking me as I bury deep, roaring low, hot spurts jetting into her, painting her walls white.

We collapse tangled, my cock softening slow inside, her hand over mine on her belly. She twists her head, kissing me sloppy and deep. "That was... holy shit. Everything I needed."