Knee Socks Ch. 01

All characters in this story are at least 18 years old. Background info on the protagonists' age can be found in the second part of this chapter.

*

Andrew can't believe his luck as he pushes the bathroom door open to find a dark green knee sock lying on the floor. Sarah must have left it there without noticing after a shower.

It's not like he can't snatch one of his twin sister's knee socks from the laundry basket right beside the door of her bedroom, but the consequences of being caught in the act, by none other than Sarah herself, are too unthinkable for him to carry out the plan. Discretion on which he prides himself can indeed be a double-edged sword, Andrew thinks sullenly. Or is he just a coward?

It's not his fault, anyway. It's not his fault that the volcanic temper of his twin sister and his own shyness put much strain on their relationship, making his every fantasy about her remain exactly what it is: a pure fantasy. It's not his fault that his face burns, his pulse quickens and his heart races up every time he catches sight of the smooth, creamy skin on her slender legs between her uniform skirt and those delicious knee socks. He's come so hard and so many times into his hands just by imagining his cum staining her neat school uniform as she twists her legs and moans beneath him, staring up at him with big, glazed blue eyes, her blond hair fuzzy as a bird's nest. As if that's going to happen.

Andrew's brain whirrs frantically in a rush of heat and panic. It takes him a few seconds to break the trance and lurch into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and pressing his back against it, his heart hammering, his eyes fixed upon Sarah's knee sock on the floor, bewitched. His mouth feels very dry. Stepping up and picking up the knee sock, balling and stuffing it into his pocket with trembling hands, he gets done with his peeing business as quickly as his hardened cock allows. Opening the door and dashing out of the bathroom without looking up, he finds himself colliding headlong with Sarah. Petite and slim, she is dressed in pajamas, her frizzy blond hair down, apparently ready for bed.

"What the fuck -- Andrew! Watch where the fuck you're going!"

"Sorry-I'm sorry-"

"For fuck's sake!"

Storming past him, Sarah slams the bathroom door shut behind her, muttering a string of curses. For a straight-A student at school, Sarah has an incredibly filthy mouth with her brother. What filthy words would she be muttering while he fingers her? God, he is hard. He can't wait to go back to his bed and masturbate to the treasure in his pocket. It feels so scalding that it's as if it would burn a hole through his skin.

Flinging his bedroom door shut behind him, Andrew climbs onto his bed, takes out his sister's knee sock from the pocket and undoes his trousers. Wrapping the knee sock around his cock as hard as a rock, he begins to pump it up and down, panting heavily, his eyes rolling back into his skull as electrifying arousal courses through him. It's Sarah again in his mind's eyes, her school uniform disheveled, her white lacy bras visible under her unbuttoned white cotton shirt, and she is touching herself for him, her magnificent legs in knee socks splayed, her fingers moving frantically around her clit, moaning and squirming, calling out his name-

Andrew comes harder than he can remember. His vision blurs as hot spurts of cum shoot out of his cock and splash across the bedsheet, his stomach and Sarah's knee sock, the shockwaves of orgasm sending tingly spasms through his body. After what feels like eternity, he sits up slowly, shivering, staring down blankly at the stained knee sock still wrapped around his cock.

This is, so, fucked up.

*

"Dad, have you seen my knee sock somewhere? I lost a dark green one for school. Can't find it anywhere."

Perched on the kitchen island one morning a few days later, Sarah turns her head around to frown at their father Daniel, who is seated on the sofa in the living room watching the morning news. While waiting for a reply, she picks up a grape casually from the crystal bowl on the island and puts it into her mouth. Seated opposite her, Andrew steals a peek at his sister, his face burning at the sight of Sarah's little tongue flicking at the fruit, pink, soft and swift. He buries his face in the cereal bowl in front of him, pretending he isn't there.

"No sweetheart, haven't seen anything. Have you checked the bathroom?"

Apparently engrossed in a report about a triple highway accident, Daniel answers absently, his eyes fixed on the TV screen.

"Let's face it, you've never learned to be organized," their mother Olivia says flatly, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror beside the main entrance for a last check before work. A successful senior manager at an accounting firm, she is dressed in an imposing navy suit, her wavy long hair tumbling down her shoulders, her leather handbag hanging from one elbow, "being smart doesn't entitle you to being untidy though."

"I'm not smart, I'm just hard-working," Sarah says haughtily, straightening up, "anyway, only narrow-minded people focus on trivialities like whether the color of their eyeshadows goes with that of their lipstick."

"When you've reached my age, sweetheart," Olivia leans closer to the mirror and dabs carefully at one corner of her eye with the tip of one finger, "you'll stop laughing at appearances."

"Thank you for your support for feminism, you of all people," Sarah snorts.

Satisfied with the final effect, Olivia turns around to face her daughter.

"Well, I'm very glad to tell you that I've spoken with Mrs. Willington, Sarah," Olivia is trying hard to squeeze out a smile in the face of her daughter's belligerence. Mrs. Willington has been Sarah's math competition tutor for two years, "and she really thinks your university application is going to be a huge success."

"My daughter's got perfect marks all right," Daniel interjects, still a bit absently, "all the way straight to the most selective faculty of math in the country-"

"Perfect marks aren't enough, as I've already said a thousand times," Sarah interrupts coldly, "they'll look at your application holistically. Besides, it if weren't for your wandering around doing God knows what, I'd have already been in university now instead of high school at nineteen-" Olivia took two positions abroad a few years back, and the twins went to local public schools whose different curriculum made academic equivalency difficult and themselves older than their cohort after they came back.

"Your dad just wants to give you a compliment. Are you really so bent on making everyone around you miserable?" Olivia's face darkens, her voice rising. Mother and daughter have rarely been on amiable terms.

"Oh really? I'm sure there're other more useful things he can do," Sarah says sharply, clearly referring to Daniel's status as a househusband. Olivia clears her throat, but says nothing. Daniel still fixes his eyes upon the TV, as if unaware of whatever is happening in the kitchen. Without a reply from the parents to continue the fight, Sarah suddenly turns to Andrew.

"Are you finished? We're going to miss the damned bus again if you keep wasting time like this."

"Sarah," Olivia says slowly and sternly, as if giving an ultimatum, "leave your brother alone."

Sarah ignores her, tapping her fingers impatiently on the surface of the kitchen island. Andrew pushes the empty bowl aside, standing up, his head cast down.

"Let's go," he murmurs. So much for being the dumbest in the family, he thinks bitterly. No presentable marks or extracurricular to speak of, not a clue what to do with his life, awkward around guys and girls alike. So dumb that Sarah doesn't even deign to attack him as she does their parents. And here he is, wanking off to his own sister like a pervert in a cheesy porny novella. Well done, Andrew. You've scored a perfect mark in being pathetic.

*

You can be abysmally paranoid about getting caught even in an empty classroom in an empty building after school. Or perhaps this is exactly what makes it so exquisite.

"What did you say?"

Gabriel is walking slowly around the desk to which Sarah's wrists and ankles are tied, a ruler in his hand. He is tall and muscular, his tanned skin and black hair giving him an exotic air. Sarah lays half-naked, her hardened pink nipples poking out from partly undone bras and quivering in the air, her plaid skirt bunched up to her lower stomach, her thighs parted, exposing her pink slit glistening with wetness. She wriggles and squirms, trembling, little begging noises escaping her gagged mouth.

"Nod if you want to speak," Gabriel says calmly, stroking himself as he walks. He is fully dressed except for the unzipped zipper of his trousers, through which his cock, thick, red and hard, stands erect. Sarah nods frantically, feeling drips of her arousal trickling down her thighs. She is so on edge, so much needs to be fucked right now. Gabriel has been playing with her nipples and slit for twenty solid minutes by now, spanking, kneading, twisting, pinching, licking, suckling and squeezing, chuckling at her moans and wails and begging. God. She wants to bite his head off. They're in the same year at school, and have been fucking for the last three months, starting from Gabriel's eighteenth birthday. It's he who has awakened the submissive self in her that she never knew existed before. Rumors have it that he's involved in some pretty hardcore BDSM circles, and Sarah guesses he's just showing her some fringe stuff for her to get a taste of it. She doesn't have much time or energy for it now, anyway. School is getting too stressful.

Taking the gag off her mouth, Gabriel lands another spank with the ruler on her tits, making her shudder. Coughing and panting, Sarah murmurs something indistinct to Gabriel's ears.

"What did you say?"

"I want you to fuck me."

"Ask nicely," another hard spank on her tits. Sarah squeezes her eyes shut.

"Please...please fuck me, Gabriel," Sarah tries to turn her face away out of shame, but Gabriel grabs her chin with one hand and forces her to look up into his eyes.

"Look at me, pet. Good, much better now. Do you want to come?"

"Yes," a quiet sob. She doesn't think she can take it any longer.

"I want you to do one thing for me, Sarah," Gabriel says slowly, as if mulling over his word choice, "think hard. Tell me the one thing you've always wanted most deep down inside. Tell me honestly. I can give it to you, you know I can," he is rubbing the tip of his cock against her sodden slit as he speaks, the heat and the hardness of it infinitely close yet infinitely unreachable, making her whimper and writhe in desperation. She suddenly becomes very aware of the sloppy sound of her wetness clearly audible in the silent air of the empty classroom.

Oh God. She wants to cry out of the maddening need to be fucked. But this is out of the question. Not now, not like this.

"Hey, Sarah," Gabriel coaxes, "you know you can trust me."

Sarah swallows, biting hard down on her bottom lip, trying to concentrate. Gabriel's right. She can trust him. They've only been friends with benefits, it's true, but she likes the way he cares about her as a friend and how she can forget about school for a while with him. And she really needs to get fucked. Hard. Right now.

"I want my brother to fuck me."

She whispers quietly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. But before she can say anything else, Gabriel thrusts his cock forcefully into her cunt, and she hisses and whimpers from the heady fullness of it, her eyes closed shut.

"Does it feel good, pet?"

"Yes, yes," her head thrown back at the sudden pleasure of being filled up to the hilt, her breath much more labored, Sarah rocks her hips instinctively in time to Gabriel's thrusts for more, "oh God, it feels so good-"

"So fucking tight," Gabriel murmurs, stroking her naked thighs, his head lowered to watch her cunt grip his cock as he fucks her, "Sarah, you're so wet. Really want your brother's cock in your cunt, don't you?"

Her wrists and ankles are burning from the friction against the cords tying her to the desk, but she's too far gone for this. Her eyes still closed shut, she starts to replace Gabriel's black hair with Andrew's chestnut curls in her mind, imagining the muscled, stocky build of Gabriel to be the leaner yet solid frame of her brother. The thick cock that is stretching her and filling her, hitting on that sweet spot inside her over and over again, and the fingers that are now massaging and circling her bulging clit in time to the powerful thrusts are no longer those of the boy of her year, but-

"Come for your brother now, Sarah," Gabriel whispers gently, "come for me."

She comes crying out Andrew's name, her muscles jerking and spasming, orgasm blooming like firecrackers inside her as she sobs and wails. It just feels so right to imagine her brother inside her, giving her the pleasure only he can give, releasing the tension that's been building inside her for too long in a way only he is capable of. It feels familiar. It feels safe. It feels like he'd always be there for her no matter what she says or does, however hurtful it is. She suddenly feels very bad, selfish, cruel and stupid. She suddenly wants to cry.

Having sensed the shift in her mood, Gabriel pauses, panting.

"Are you OK, Sarah?"

Opening her eyes, she sees Gabriel's face hovering over her, concerned. A warm wave of gratefulness washes over her.

"Yeah, it's OK. Sorry."

"Do you want to continue?"

"You haven't come, have you?"

"It's alright, I don't need to. Thanks though."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly."

Gabriel pulls out of her, zips up his zippers and starts to untie her. Sarah slides off the desk, shivering, dragging the panties at her ankles back up, straightening her crumpled skirt, pulling her bras back down and buttoning her shirt. Her legs feel weak.

"Gonna tell me what happened? I've something to tell you later, actually. Let's trade."

Sarah picks up her backpack at the feet of the desk. It's already dark outside, little sparkling lights twinkling in the distance.

"Don't you think it's weird?" Sarah asks a bit nervously, embarrassed. Gabriel picks up his backpack, laughing. He stops as soon as he catches Sarah's eyes.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. It's just funny, after all the wild shit you've watched people doing, there's a girl who's afraid you'd think incest kink is weird."

"The rumors are true then."

Gabriel shrugs. "Who cares?"

They leave the empty classroom and are now heading down the dark hallway towards the staircase.

"I just don't think this is what really concerns you," Gabriel says after a short pause.

"What do you mean?"

"You scared me a bit back there. Looked like you were going to cry."

Sarah says nothing. Her face is burning.

"I've never met your brother, by the way. Andrew, right? Nice name."

"Yeah. He's in the same year as us."

This conversation is so weird on all levels imaginable, Sarah thinks. In a different context though, everything would have sounded normal.

"Ah, the little chap with chestnut hair, a bit shy? I saw you one day at the bus stop with him."

"Yeah, that's right."

Another silence ensues. They've exited the building and are now heading for the bus stop, from where they'll take different buses home.

"What's about him? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I was..." Sarah tries to muster up her courage. Gabriel has been nice to her, and she needs someone to talk to, "I was just-just being stupid. I've been kinda mean to him."

"All siblings are mean to each other. Sometimes I just want to throw my brother out of the window. Or strangle him. Whichever is faster."

"It's different. He's just this really shy kid, alright? People have been calling him names. My parents expect a lot from me but not from him. You know what I mean?"

"Hum. But you like him?"

Sarah feels her heart skip a beat.

"I don't know what you mean. I love him as my family. I don't know, it's weird."

"I guess you'll figure it out. Why not talk to him?" Gabriel looks like he really means it. They've reached the bus stop and sit down on the bench, shivering a little in the cold wind. Sarah rolls her eyes.

"Hello? Andrew, I fantasize about you fucking me?"

"Well, that's the message all right, but with different wording," Gabriel laughs again. Sarah finds herself liking him more and more. Neither of them wants to be in a relationship with each other though. Perhaps it's a good thing, after all.

"Do you think he likes you? Sorry, I mean, do you think he wants to fuck you?"

Sarah laughs first this time, albeit a bit tensely.

"One of my knee socks went missing," she admits after some thought.

Gabriel blows a whistle, "kinky."

"I don't know -- I don't know if it's just fallen into some gap in the bathroom or something. It's not like I can confront him about it, right?"

"Why not? Here's my tip. Just search the house as thoroughly as you can. If you can't find it anywhere, confront him about it. Tell him you know it's him who's stolen it. I guarantee you, if it's him, you can be one hundred percent sure of it."

"How do you know?" Sarah asks, genuinely curious and excited.

"Kids like him can't lie," Gabriel says briefly. Sarah wonders whether he often lies.

For a moment neither of them speaks.

"Well, here's what I've got to tell you," Gabriel breaks the silence, "I've probably got a girlfriend. Sort of. It's not official yet, cause we're still undecided about it."

"Oh...congrats!" Sarah knows he's got other friends of benefits, but not that he's particularly close to any one of them.

"Thanks. Not that we can't fuck anymore, we both like sex too much to be fucking one person only. It's just I'm not gonna be as available as before. She's got friends, I've got friends, we both go to the same meetings, stuff like that. But just text me whenever you feel like it and we'll see."

"Sure. Thanks for letting me know."

"No problem. Here's my bus," Gabriel stands up as the bus approaches, its glaring headlight dazzling in the dense night. He hops onto the bus and turns around, beaming at her before the door closes. "Talk to Andrew! See ya!"

Sarah watches the bus draw away, her heart beating fast in her chest.

"Talk to Andrew." She murmurs to herself.

*

It's raining.

The History teacher doesn't seem to grasp the notion that people have busy lives, and by the time the class is dismissed belatedly again, it's already dark and raining heavily outside. Unprepared for such a vicious turn of weather, Andrew reaches home sodden and shivering. Their mother is most likely going to arrive home late again, caught up in either her interminable work or traffic jam, and their father is presently doing something noisy that involves drilling in the basement.

Flinging the door of his bedroom open, still thinking about getting rid of his wet clothes as soon as possible, Andrew is entirely caught off guard by the figure sitting on his bed.

"Andrew, we need to talk."

"What are you doing here, Sarah?"

His face is heating up, fast. The association between Sarah and his bed is too dangerous, and the beginning of this conversation too ominous. The light of his room is not turned on, and he can barely make out the expression on her face. Sarah is dressed in her immaculate white cotton shirt and plaid skirt, her pretty legs dangling from the edge of his bed. Only one of her calves has a knee sock on.

"Andrew, you've been very bad."

"What-what are you talking about? What are you doing in my room?"

He is stammering. Oh no, Andrew. You're fighting a battle you're bound to lose.