My Sister’s Secret: Unraveling Truth and Deceit

I spent the next half hour in silence, reheating and eating my plate of food. She was a surprisingly good cook, although I would have preferred a soft yolk. Perhaps it was already that way until I microwaved it.

I was still deciding whether she was conning or blackmailing me. I told her she had time to figure things out, and she could stay at my house for a couple of weeks.

Her emotional reactions and facial expressions were all genuine, I thought. As someone who grew up with a mother who was a criminal pathologist and a father who was a speech analyst, I learned how to spot a liar quickly.

Packing up the liquor bottles, I told her I was having them tested, and she seemed relieved. I grabbed the different-sized shape bags she was tossing down the hall as she filled them, stacking them outside the door.

There were two normal-sized gym duffle bags, a military-style type, three soft-shell type travel bags, and one I knew was used to hold hockey equipment, signed by the entire team from two years ago. She was packing up her computer equipment when Uber informed me they were arriving soon.

“O-Kay Daddy,” she replied, and I told her so.

As I was already on my way to the curb with several of the smaller bags, I let my mind wander. My name is Philip. I’m 30 years old, own my own home, a car, a custom work truck, and various motor toys.

I’m a college-graduated extreme environment welder, meaning I can stick two pieces of metal together under 200 feet of water or 200 feet in the air while dangling upside down. Scorching heat or raging snowstorms, I’m not fazed.

As I turned back to get the two largest bags, she already had them. The hockey bag had a plastic bottom with heavy castors, and the military duffle was on top of it, between her legs, and she was pushing herself to the staircase using a hockey stick like she was rowing a canoe.

This was a sight that got me. The Uber guy and the couple walking their dog laughed as she gleefully cascaded down the stairs almost gracefully and crashed into me with a “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.”

I blushed, and the Uber guy blushed too. The man holding the dog tried not to drool as she climbed off the pile of bags. He failed, and his female companion stormed off in a huff.

Her black skirt was up around her waist, giving us all a good look at her yellow polka-dotted pantie briefs. She had a form-fitting pink Team logo Polo top and pink Converse all-stars on her feet. Her hair was still up in an onion-shaped bun, and she wore big bug-eye Gucci sunglasses that hid 80% of her face.

As we drove away, she cuddled me, her breathing running down my neck in hot whisps, raising goose flesh on my skin. My other head was starting to stir, and I was pretty sure she’d taken notice, as her hip-rolling movements had started to become rhythmic.

Her left breast was rubbing my chest as she rocked gently, and I was caught off guard. “Oh, shit, this girl is dry-fucking me right here in the Uber. What do I do? Do I encourage her? Do I stop her? Do I… Oh God, help?”

“Pull my skirt up,” the words were so quiet I wasn’t even sure she spoke them or if she sent them empathically. She moved forward, and her body was off mine. Robotically, I followed her instruction.

Her hands deftly got my slacks undone, and my now fully erect 8 inches was bobbing in the chill of the air conditioning. She shifted again, and I could feel every millimeter of protruding flesh as she slid onto my crotch. She was impaled herself on my organ, and every molecule of my being was on fire.

“Shhhhhh,” she whispered into my ear. “Just let it happen. I need this. Don’t make me climb off. Please.” She gasped into my ear as she bottoms out, and my cock’s head pressed firmly against her G-spot as she swayed side to side for a moment.

“I’m no virgin,” I said, but she continued. “I’ve let men fuck me. I lost my virginity at 12 to one of my mother’s tricks. He paid the rent for a year. I only had to fuck him three times. But this is a first – I’ve never made love to or had a man make love to me.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek as she started to slowly rise and fall on my shaft. “So tight. So fulfilling,” she whispered, and I was caught in the moment.

“Is this girl even real?” I thought, but she was too lost in the sensation to notice.

Her body stiffened, and she became paralyzed. Her mouth was a silent scream I could see from the side, and the Uber driver could too. He panicked and swerved to pull over.

“Nerrrrr!! I’m fine. It’s a cramp!! Keep going,” she demanded, her voice strained.

Her orgasm had soaked my pants, the seat, and probably the floor carpeting. “That was a big one,” she whispered into my ear, horsely. “I am a wet girl. But I’ve never flooded like that before. I’m sorry.”

We pulled into my driveway as the smell of fresh sex started to fill the passenger cabin. It was difficult for her to pull herself off my lap, and there was a wet, sticky noise and a smaller orgasm from the girl as she climbed out.

“Did you guys just fuck in my car?” the Uber driver asked, and I told him no, she had a cramp and some lady issues to deal with. I ran my spare credit card for a hundred-dollar tip and handed him what cash I had on me. That shut him up with a smile and a hope she’s okay.

We collected her bags in two trips, and my hard-on still raged because while she had two or three climaxes during the short ride, I didn’t get to finish. Hugging me tightly, kissing me all over my face, and thanking me for the most enjoyable sexual thrill she’s ever had, she felt it.

“Oh, you didn’t finish,” she said, and she hurriedly pulled her bags in, slammed the door, and dropped to her knees, pulling my gland out and swallowing it like a skilled sword juggler.