The Friend of My Enemy is....Mine!

Another new story from my twisted imagination. I hope you enjoy it, and cast your votes when you're done. Everyone in the story is over eighteen, so no one need worry about that.

And to the readers who are hoping I will continue some of my other stories, rest assured I am working on new chapters for Julie and Red, Hank and Brosie, Vonnie and Danny, Buffy and Paul....

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Do you have a sister? If yes, then you might know what I'm talking about. If not, I would gladly sell you mine. Cheap.

Don't get me wrong. As her brother, I love my sister Hannah. I also hate her, and it would appear she hates me back. I've been told that's normal, but I could do without it.

Hannah is only ten months older than me, so we went through life's changes close enough together that she was the girl I first noticed becoming a woman. I think that's about where our relationship took a turn for the worse, and to be fair, I suppose it's at least partly my fault. I admit to spying on her, but she had it coming.

You see, far from the angelic aire she projects for my parents, my sister had been using her body to torture me for years. Very early, she figured out that I was fascinated with her developing curves, and used that fact to make my life hell.

Most recently, in the last year or so, her teasing had stepped up its intensity. Now that she was, um, shall we say, fully developed, she made no effort to hide the fact. Ever since her eighteenth birthday, when she became an adult in my parents' eyes, she had been brutal.

I suppose she felt safe in the fact that I would never act on the thoughts that were being put into my head by her behaviour. She's probably right, but boy, her safety was hanging by a thread by the time I had my eighteenth as well.

Actually, I didn't tell you much about my sister, other than that we hate each other, did I? My apologies. Okay, how to describe my sister, without the description being coloured by my negative emotions toward her? Let's see....

Well, she's blonde. We all are. Blonde hair and blue eyes are the defining feature of our family. More specifically, she has very long, attractive hair, with a nice wave to it, and her eyes are a sexy, icy blue, when they're not expressing their contempt for me. She has lovely, apparently kissable lips, and a pretty smile but for me, the most memorable part is her little smirk.

I'm not sure if it's natural, or cultivated, but that smirk reminds me very much of Natalie Dormer. Watching Game of Thrones became like watching my sister on TV, except for two things.

Two big things.

Picture Natalie Dormer crossed with a stripper, and you get the idea.

Now do you see why I feel I'm being tortured? Could you be teased with a body like that, and not get ideas a brother is not supposed to get about his sister?

In case you still don't get the picture, I'll be perfectly clear.

My sister is gorgeous. My sister has nice, big tits. My sister loves showing off her gorgeous body and big tits, keeping just out of reach. I can't tell you how many times I had fantasized about her, while dealing with my needs in the bathroom. What's worse, she knew it, and often was waiting for me outside the door, with a look of disgust.

"You're quite the little perv, aren't you?" she commented once, her arms crossed over her spectacular chest. She was wearing a tank top, so her posture only succeeded in forcing her tits to bulge up even more prominently, something my eyes couldn't ignore. Naturally, she caught me ogling her cleavage. "Eww! I hate you!"

I did notice that her face had that little crooked smirk on it as she turned away, and her ass had a little extra sway as she walked to her room. Perhaps her hatred was more than it seemed?

***

Hannah was very popular with anyone else but me, and had several friends, many of which were regulars in our backyard, using our pool. True to the idiom about birds and flocks, most of those friends were quite pretty, as well, and a few were equally built. Among those was Stephanie, Hannah's best friend.

Stephanie was hardly new around our house. She and Hannah had been nearly inseparable for the better part of a decade, ever since her family moved into the area. She had been accepted by my family as a sort of honorary sister, and I had personally heard my parents tell her that she was welcome anytime.

So, whether my sister was home or not, Stephanie would take my parents at their word, coming over several times a week to swim and tan in our yard. Her visits became a great source of entertainment for me.

I'm sure you understand what I mean by 'entertainment'. My bedroom window gave me a wonderful view of our yard, and when Stephanie was there, I was always paying attention to the show.

Stephanie was a cute little pixie, a couple of inches shorter than my sister, and only a couple of inches taller than five feet. Her hair was dark, and very long, hanging nearly to her waist. Her eyes were brown, and large, expressing her emotions quite vividly. Of course, none of that was important when she was using our pool.

Her body was, however, of primary importance. Lean and lithe, as so many nineteen-year old girls are, her shorter stature and large breasts gave her astounding curves. Those curves were usually contained by a small collection of quite revealing bikinis, of various colours. The black one was especially nice, with a thong style bottom, but my favourite was the red one. A bit older, and perhaps a bit too small, that top had a problem keeping her yummy tits in. She didn't wear it that often, but when she did, I was paying close attention.

The strange part of the whole situation was that Stephanie and I had a better relationship than I had with my sister. She knew I had eyes for her body, and had caught me gawking at her several dozen times, but she took it in stride, and was far more civil to me than I can ever remember my sister being. We were as much friends as she was with Hannah, but that friendship took a form that wouldn't offend my sister.

***

I can trace the beginning of the change back to one day, in particular. It's not the day that makes it memorable, as it wasn't the type of weather a person usually wants to remember. No glorious sun, azure skies, or gentle breezes.

Quite the opposite, really. It was grey, and wet, and oppressively still, with a constant rain that seemed like it would never stop. The type of rain that seems to suck up every other sound in the world. At least it was summer, so it wasn't that cold.

Nevertheless, I could hardly believe my eyes when I looked out into the backyard. My parents were out, and Hannah was also away, yet Stephanie was there, in our yard, sitting on the end of the diving board, dangling her feet in the water. Her feet were no more wet than the rest of her, as she was soaked to the bone. Her hair a stringy, bedraggled mess, every bit of clothing she wore was plastered to her body.

Sexy as it was, I was concerned for my friend. She didn't look happy.

Isn't there a song about crying in the rain? How it hides the tears? That it may do, but it doesn't mask the sobs. Stephanie was distraught, and as I approached her from behind, I could see her body being shaken by her emotions.

"Steph?" I asked her, from under the umbrella I had found outside our back door, "Are you okay?"

She didn't look up, or turn around, merely shaking her head.

"No," she sniffed. "I'm not. I might never be okay again."

That sounded ominous, if overly dramatic. If she wasn't sitting out on the tip of the diving board, I would have sat with her, but as it was all I could do is talk to her from a distance.

"What's wrong, Steph?" I asked, hoping she'd at least turn to face me. Her head was hung low, soaked hair forming dark curtains that blocked out the world. "You can tell me. I promise no one else will ever know. It might help to let it out?"

Somehow, my words found the target, and she not only looked at me, she turned her body on the board, giving me a place to sit beside her, albeit a precarious one. She nodded, and I carefully took a spot next to her, sitting in a puddle of rain, hanging over the pool, with my feet in the water. My weight dipped her deeper into the pool, but she didn't seem to care.

At least now, she was under my umbrella. She tucked her soggy hair behind her ear, letting me see her face.

Even in distress, she was still pretty. I'm not sure I'd ever been this close to her before, as we sat, almost touching.

"You talk, I'll listen," I smiled. "No judgements. I promise."

Stephanie smiled weakly, and took a deep breath.

"Okay. Thanks for this," she began. "You're probably going to think it's silly girl stuff, but...."

"No judgements," I repeated, smiling again. Her return smile had a little more conviction behind it, this time.

So, sitting in the rain, under the protection of a small umbrella, Stephanie told me the tale. The early words came out slowly, reluctantly, as if forced out by her will, but as time passed, the flow increased. I sat there, listening and nodding, saying nothing, until everything burst out in an unstoppable tsunami of words and emotions. She was angry. She was frightened. She was embarrassed, sad, lonely, betrayed, confused....

And pregnant?

Okay, that one definitely got my attention, and I looked at her in surprise, but she was blubbering and bawling, no longer in control of what she said, or how it came out. At last, she was empty, and leaned heavily against me. I put my arm around her shoulders, and she put hers around my neck, sobbing into my chest.

What was her problem? Well, I'm paraphrasing a little, but essentially, her boyfriend dumped her, and she really liked him, and now he was with this other girl, who was a real slut, and this was after she had let him finally take her virginity, and now people were talking about how he had fucked her, and she thought she might be pregnant, and she couldn't talk to her parents about this, because they'd hate her for having sex, and now she felt cheap, and ugly, and she didn't know what to do, or how she could go on, and that even Hannah didn't know, and that her life was over.

Whew. Yes, that was the short version. But, I promised her no judgements, so I just held her, and let her cry, feeling her wet body against mine. She was wracked by emotions, but also shivering. Warm rain or not, she was freezing.

"Steph, we need to get you in, out of the rain," I told her, my first words since she started talking. "You'll catch pneumonia or something."

"Okay," she shuddered, nodding her head.

I was able to shift sideways enough to reach the deck with my feet, and was standing when she tried to get to her feet on the wet, slippery board. In retrospect, it was a doomed attempt. Wet board, shoes filled with water, narrow room to stand. I had her hand in mine, trying to help, when she slipped, and pulled both of us into the pool, umbrella and all.

Most days she was in our pool, she was wearing practically nothing, so swimming was pretty easy. Today, she was fully clothed, wearing shoes, jeans, a fleece pullover.... all of which was soaked with rain and heavy, before she fell in. When she surfaced a few feet away from me, I knew she was in trouble, and grabbed her flailing hand. Being taller than her, I was only a few steps away from being able to stand, and once I had a stable base, we were both safe.

"Thanks, Andrew," she sputtered, clinging to me, and peeking out through her hair like Cousin Itt, from the Addams family. I walked us into the shallow end, while the umbrella sunk slowly to the bottom of the pool.

"Now we both need to get out of these wet clothes," I observed, starting to shiver myself.

Stephanie obviously agreed, because she was already struggling out of her sodden fleece pullover. When she finally succeeded in dragging it off over her head, the elephant in the room spoke up.

There she stood, waist deep in the pool, wearing her bra and t-shirt, which were the next best thing to transparent. The cotton was plastered to her curvaceous chest, and the lacey bra hid nothing either. Add to that nipples that were like diamonds, standing up in the cold, and I couldn't help my body from reacting. My dick grew harder by the second, as she climbed out of the water, and kicked off her shoes. Her jeans were no easier to remove than the pullover, but she did it, finally getting down to the essentials when she peeled off the t-shirt. She stood, shivering, under cover by the back door, while I gathered her clothes into a pile.

I had to strip, too, but I was reluctant to do so sporting a woodie over her nearly naked body. After looking at her, shivering uncontrollably, I decided my embarrassment was of secondary importance. I dropped my jeans and shirt on the pile, and let my underwear speak for itself, tented and transparent as her bra and panties were.

"Well, now we both know my opinion of your body," I laughed, as her eyes flitted over the bulging fabric. She smiled, still shivering, and taking a second peek at my dick.

I opened the door, and we both stood on the mat, holding each other, and feeling the warmth surround us. My shivers abated quickly, but Stephanie was an ice cube.

"You stay here," I told her. "I'll be right back!"

Racing up the stairs, I grabbed a towel and hurriedly dried myself, then slipped into a dry pair of shorts. From the linen closet, I grabbed another huge bath towel, and darted back downstairs. Wrapped her in it, and pulled her tight to my chest, rubbing her back and shoulders.

"We'll get you warm," I said softly.

"Thank you, Andrew," she sighed.

"Come on. I know how to warm you up," I smiled, pulling her by the hand. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, her reluctance surfaced.

"Andrew, I don't think we should, um...." she frowned.

"Huh?" I wondered. "Oh! No, Steph, not that! The shower! I meant for you to take a nice, hot shower!"

"Oh! Okay! That's a good idea," she smiled, following me up.

"You really thought I was talking about sex?" I asked her. "After that story you told me?"

"Well, most guys would try to take advantage," she smiled. "I guess you're not most guys. Thanks for that."

I pointed her into the bathroom, then turned her away from me.

"Lose the undies," I told her. "I'll throw everything in the dryer while you are in the shower. Then I'll find you something dry to wear while we wait, and I'll make us something warm to drink. How's that sound?"

"Wonderful," she smiled, still shivering. The glass doors of the shower gave me a ghostly reflection of her naked body as she dropped her panties and bra on the floor. I only felt a little bit guilty about taking a peek. She kicked the pile of undergarments behind her, and I picked them up as she closed the door.

The faint image of her nude form was burned into my mind. The bra and panties I held in my hand hadn't covered much anyway, but that glimpse of her in the buff had done the trick. I was hard again. I was almost ready to jerk off in the downstairs bathroom, but decided against it. Still, my mind was full of Stephanie.

I gathered the pile of wet clothes, and stuffed them into the dryer. Running back upstairs, I found a t-shirt that would cover her like a dress, and tossed it into the bathroom quickly. Then I went back down, and started making hot chocolate for us.

While the water was boiling, I went back to the dryer. I knew it was way too early, but I wasn't there to check for dryness. I rummaged through the clothes, finding her bra. Curiosity had the better of me. My sister was a 34DD, as I had found out in a similar fashion.

"32F," I read, smiling as I did. She was shorter than my sister, with a slighter build, but had bigger tits. My dick saluted once more, and I tossed the lacey thing back into the dryer.

A few minutes later, Stephanie joined me in the kitchen, looking much warmer now. She had on my shirt, and nothing else, I well knew. It reached almost to her knees, and the black hid everything except those pesky, erect nipples, which were still poking through.

"Thanks again, Andrew. I really needed someone's support today, and you gave it to me. I won't forget that," she smiled, sitting carefully on the kitchen chair. She crossed her legs in a lady-like fashion, so as not to flash her pussy at me. I know, because I was looking.

I gave her a big mug of hot chocolate, and sat across from her.

"He's an idiot," I laughed, making a judgement.

"Yes," she giggled. "On that, we agree."

"And you're not cheap, or ugly," I continued. "In fact, I think you're just about the prettiest girl I've ever seen. My sister thinks she is, of course, but I think you have her beat."

I wasn't just saying that because I now knew her bra size. It was true.

"Thank you," she whispered, blushing pink. "I think I needed to hear that, even if I question your taste. I don't feel very pretty, right now. He hurt me. And what if I'm pregnant? What do I do then?"

"I know you can't help worrying," I replied, "but how do you know you might be, um, you know?"

"Because the bastard didn't use a rubber, and I'm late," she spat. Her face softened as she looked at me, knowing her anger was misdirected. "I'm late."

"How late?" I asked.

"A couple of days, but I'm pretty regular. I've been worried ever since we had sex, and now I might be right," she gestured.

"Well, I hope you're wrong," I nodded.

"Me too," she nodded back. "Me too."

It took an hour for the clothes to dry, and Stephanie was fully dressed as we stood by the back door, watching the last of the rain drip off the roof.

"Perfect timing," she smiled, but I knew there was plenty going on in her head. "Thanks again for listening, and warming me up, and drying my clothes."

She turned, opened the door, and started to step out, before pausing. She stood there for a few seconds, then turned to face me, and stepped back in. She leaned up, brushing her ample chest against mine, and kissed me softly on the cheek. It wasn't a peck, as she held it for a count of three.

"Thank you, Andrew," she whispered, and was gone.

***

Two days later, the sun was shining. It was an appropriate day for good news.

Sure enough, Stephanie came to visit, wearing a smile a yard wide. There could only be one reason for such an abrupt change in emotions. As soon as my sister was out of hearing range, she gestured to me, and I moved closer.

"It's official, I'm not pregnant. I was worrying for nothing," she smiled, sliding in beside me. "I feel like an idiot, for dumping on you like that."

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "What about the jerk? Is he still gone?"

"Oh, yeah, he's history," she nodded, "but that's nothing I can't handle. It was just everything else that had me freaked out. Now that I know the truth, I'm fine. I still owe you one, though. Without your help, I would have been all alone. I needed a shoulder, and you were there. Thanks."

"Anytime," I replied, as she hugged me tight. I felt those big tits of hers squashed against me. Such a lovely feeling.

Hug of thanks delivered, she left me, and went back to her lounge by the pool. As I turned away, I found my sister watching us, a puzzled look on her face. I simply walked away before she had a chance to ask any questions.

Let her figure it out, I thought.

***

After that point, Stephanie's visits changed, just a little. It was subtle, really more of a feeling than an act, but it was there. Let me explain.

As you know, my sister had a habit of using her body as a weapon in her war against me. She would dress in a mildly provocative way.... or in a blatantly provocative way, such as one of her tiny bikinis.... then berate me for getting excited around her. She had the power, and she knew it. In the absence of any luck in the girlfriend department, I had only my sister and my right hand.