sister let me watch (repost)

It wasn’t like I planned it. She was my sister, for fuck’s sake. But when she and her husband came to stay for the weekend, something in me snapped. Their bedroom was right across the hall, and the walls were thin. The first night, I heard the bed creaking, heard her muffled giggles, heard him grunting like some kind of animal. I told myself I’d just peek, just to see what it looked like when two people who actually knew what they were doing fucked. I pressed my ear to the door, then—stupid, so stupid—I eased it open, just a crack.

The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the streetlight outside. Her husband was on top of her, his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress. She was arching into him, her breath hitching in that way I’d heard a hundred times through the wall but never seen. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until my lungs started burning. Then she turned her head—just slightly—and her eyes locked onto mine through the gap in the door.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Her husband was still pounding into her, oblivious, but she held my gaze like she’d been expecting me all along. A slow smile curled at the corner of her mouth—not mocking, not angry, just... knowing. Then she bit her lip and arched her back higher, moaning louder than before, like she was putting on a show just for me. I stumbled back, the door clicking shut behind me, and nearly tripped over my own feet scrambling to my room.

The next morning, I avoided the kitchen until I heard her husband leave for a run. She was leaning against the counter, sipping coffee like nothing had happened. “You’re up early,” she said, and I froze mid-step. Her voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp. “Or did you not sleep much?” My face burned. I opened my mouth, but she cut me off with a laugh. “Relax. I’m not mad.” She set her mug down and stepped closer, close enough that I caught the scent of her shampoo—something clean and light, like citrus. “Actually,” she said, her voice dropping, “he thinks it’s hot.”

I blinked. “What?”

She shrugged, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “We’ve talked about it before. He’s into... sharing.” Her gaze flicked up to mine, and something in it made my stomach twist. “If you want to watch, you can just ask.”

The air between us thickened. I couldn’t tell if she was teasing or serious, but then she reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, her fingers lingering just a second too long. “Tonight,” she said, like it was settled. “Door’s open if you want it.”

That whole day felt like a dream—the kind where you’re moving through molasses, every second stretching impossibly long. I couldn’t focus on anything: not the TV, not the book I’d been reading, not even the sandwich I’d made for lunch and then abandoned after two bites. My sister and her husband went about their day like nothing was different—running errands, laughing over some inside joke I wasn’t part of, teasing each other in that way couples do when they’re comfortable. But every time she caught my eye, her lips would curve into this small, private smile, like we were sharing a secret. And I guess we were.

Nightfall came too fast and not fast enough. I lingered in the shower until the water ran cold, my fingers pruning, trying to steady my breathing. What if I’d misunderstood? What if this was some cruel joke? But then I remembered the way she’d looked at me through the crack in the door—like she’d been waiting for me to see her like that.

Their bedroom door was slightly ajar, just like she’d promised. A sliver of golden light spilled into the hallway, and the sound of low voices—hers teasing, his rumbling in response—sent a jolt through me. I hesitated, my palm sweating against the doorknob, before pushing it open just enough to slip inside.

They were already on the bed, tangled together in a way that made my throat go dry. Her husband was kneeling between her thighs, his hands roaming over her bare skin like he was mapping her out. She was propped up on her elbows, watching him with this lazy, satisfied smirk, but when she noticed me hovering by the door, her expression shifted—something darker, hungrier. “Took you long enough,” she murmured, and her husband glanced over his shoulder, his gaze landing on me without an ounce of surprise.

He didn’t stop touching her, didn’t even pause. Just grinned—a slow, easy thing—and said, “Get comfortable, kid.” Like it was nothing. Like I was just pulling up a chair to watch TV. My sister stretched her arms above her head, the movement making her breasts lift, and I realized she was completely bare. No sheets, no shyness. Just them, and now me.

I didn’t know where to look. At her, at him, at the way his fingers dipped between her thighs like he owned the place. Which, I guess, he did. My feet carried me to the armchair in the corner, my knees buckling as I sat. The air smelled like sex, like sweat and something musky I couldn’t name. Her husband’s hand slid up her stomach, cupped her breast, and she arched into it with a sigh. “You gonna just stare?” she asked, her voice husky. “Or you wanna see more?”

Her husband chuckled, pulling his hand away to grip her hip instead. “Show him,” he said, and it wasn’t a suggestion. She bit her lip, then shifted onto her knees, crawling toward the edge of the bed until she was close enough that I could see the flush on her skin, the way her breath hitched when she touched herself. “Like this,” she murmured, spreading her legs wider. Her fingers were slick, glistening in the low light, and I couldn’t look away.

Her husband moved behind her, his hands sliding up her back, pressing her down until her chest was against the mattress and her ass was in the air. She let out a shaky moan when he spread her open, his thumbs digging into her flesh. “Watch,” he told me, and I didn’t realize I was leaning forward until the chair creaked.

The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, rhythmic and wet, punctuated by her sharp little gasps. Her husband had her bent over the edge of the bed now, one hand fisted in her hair while the other gripped her hip hard enough to leave marks. I could see everything—the way her body rocked forward with each thrust, the way her fingers clawed at the sheets, the way her mouth fell open in a silent cry before she remembered to make noise. My cock ached in my jeans, but I didn’t dare touch myself. Not here, not in front of them.

Then her head turned, her cheek pressed against the mattress, and her eyes locked onto mine. Her lips curled into a smirk, breathless and knowing. “You’re staring,” she panted. Her husband chuckled, never slowing his pace, and gave her ass a sharp slap that made her yelp. “Like what you see?” he asked, and I realized the question was for me. My throat was too dry to answer, but I nodded anyway.

They exchanged a glance—something wordless, intimate—and then she was pushing herself up on her elbows, twisting to look at me properly. “Come here,” she said, jerking her chin toward the bed. I hesitated, but her husband reached back without looking, fingers curling in a come-hither motion. My legs moved before my brain caught up, and before I knew it, I was kneeling on the mattress beside them, close enough to feel the heat radiating off their bodies.

Her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist, and before I could react, she’d pressed my palm against her lower back. The skin was damp with sweat, trembling under my touch. “Feel that?” she murmured, and I could—the way her muscles clenched with every thrust, the way her spine arched when her husband hit deep. My fingers twitched, and she laughed, low and throaty. “God, you’re so fucking tense.” Her husband grunted in agreement, his hips never stuttering. “Kid needs to relax,” he muttered, and she grinned up at me, all teeth.

Then she was pushing my hand lower, guiding it down the curve of her ass until my fingertips brushed where they were joined. I flinched, but she held me there, her grip firm. “Watch,” she ordered, and I did—helpless not to—as her husband pulled out almost all the way, glistening in the dim light, before slamming back in. She gasped, her nails digging into my wrist, and something primal coiled tight in my gut.

But then she was laughing—both of them were—and her husband slowed to a stop, leaning over her shoulder to smirk at me. “Too much?” he asked, and I realized my face was burning, my pulse hammering in my throat. I shook my head, but my hand was already retreating, curling into a fist at my side. She sighed, rolling her eyes, but there was no malice in it. “Fine,” she said, flopping back onto the mattress. “Go to bed if you’re gonna be shy.”

I stumbled off the bed, my knees weak, my head spinning. They didn’t stop me—just watched, amused, as I fumbled for the doorknob. Behind me, the bed creaked as they shifted, and then her voice, teasing: “Door’s still open if you change your mind.” I didn’t look back.

Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. My jeans were tight, straining, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch myself—not when the memory of her skin under my fingertips was still so vivid. The sounds from across the hall started up again, muffled but unmistakable, and I groaned, dragging a pillow over my head.

Morning came too soon. Sunlight slanted through the blinds, painting stripes across my rumpled sheets. I lingered in bed, listening for signs of life—the clatter of dishes, the murmur of voices—but the house was quiet. When I finally dragged myself into the hallway, her suitcase was by the door, packed and ready. She was in the kitchen, sipping coffee like nothing had happened. “Sleep okay?” she asked, and I choked on air.

Her husband appeared behind her, clapping me on the shoulder like we were old buddies. “Take care of yourself, kid,” he said, grinning like he knew exactly how wrecked I was. Then they were gone—just like that—her blowing me a kiss from the passenger seat, him revving the engine like he hadn’t just ruined me for anyone else.

my telegram is the same as my username if anyone is up to chat. did manage to get a photo of her sucking his dick.Love to see and hear others experiences as well.