Knee Socks Ch. 02

All characters in the story are at least 18 years old. Information on the protagonists' age can be found in chapter one.

I have received constructive criticism and encouragement from you in chapter one. I appreciate it very much. It definitely gives me motivation to write more and better. More is welcome!

*

Coming against Sarah's warm, soft body in the dark with his hands firmly around her neck and her helpless mewling in his ears has been the most heavenly sensation Andrew has ever experienced in his rather uneventful life. Especially when she is his fucking sister.

Granted, Sarah has always been a self-absorbed, willful child. As one of the smartest and the most accomplished in her cohort since elementary school, she certainly feels justified in being so. Were it not for the effort of Olivia, whose equally strong character makes her the only person in the family with any power over her, Sarah could have literally turned their household upside down.

Perhaps this is exactly why the feeling of having his bratty sister entirely at his mercy made him come within minutes.

Andrew has been masturbating at an alarmingly short interval throughout the next day at school, but at the end of the day, his cock still hardens instantly at the memory of last night's wild adventure. He's just got a taste of it for five minutes and now he's an addict for life. His desire for her is so powerful that he's afraid of what he'd do to Sarah the next time he's got his hands on her. Afraid of how far she'd let him go.

She wasn't disgusted. She didn't despise him. She reciprocated his desire for her, albeit in her own unconventional way. She even apologized to him for her attitude and behavior. Andrew knows his sister isn't a genuinely arrogant or selfish person, but is only so focused on her demanding life that too often she comes off as one unawares. Her apology has proven that. It makes him feel happy, grateful and proud in a way he's never experienced before. He wants to make her happy, too. He wants to make her come.

This game of hers, he shall play. And this time, he's going to turn the tables on her.

It's with this dreamy, arousing feeling that he arrives at the photography club's info session held in the assembly hall after school, his head giddy, his cock still half-hard, the scene of last night repeatedly replaying in his mind. Sarah's right. That people don't do it doesn't make it wrong. He can feel she wants it too, as feverishly as he does. They're not hurting anyone. They don't have to answer to anyone.

"Hello? Can I help you?"

Startled, Andrew raises his head to find a girl smiling at him. It's as if he had just realized where he is. The assembly hall has been redecorated for the occasion, magnified photographs strung across the hall, clusters of students ambling along them engrossed in quiet contemplation or hushed conversations. Standing behind a low table on which colorful brochures and leaflets are displayed, her light brown eyes friendly and welcoming, the girl who has just spoken to him is wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. A name card "Carla" is pinned to her gray cardigan. Apparently, he has been standing there before her stand for too long, spacing out and smiling to himself like an idiot. Too bad that Max told him he wasn't interested, or he could have come with him and made him look less like a joke. Probably Andrew's only friend, Max lost his parents to an accident when he was an infant. Raised by his eccentric grandparents, he is bullied unrelentingly at school for being gay and chubby.

"Hi, Carla," Andrew nods, embarrassed.

"Hi! What's your name?" Her tone is chirpy, but not in an annoying way.

"Andrew. I'm in grade twelve."

"Good! Interested in joining the photography club?"

"Eh...I don't know. I've been taking some photos with my dad's camera, and quite like it. But I'm sure they're pretty bad."

"Oh, don't say that. I'm sure they've got their charm. What're your photos about?"

"Animals. Trees. Just boring stuff really. Sometimes riverbanks, streets, or clouds." Andrew's face is burning again. It feels stupid just to say it.

"I love taking photos of streets too. I once got up at five o'clock in the morning just to take photos of a coffee shop at a street corner near home. People started coming and going, hot coffee in their hands, the vapor rising from the cups and their nose...the neon lights, the tiled sidewalk, the menu blackboard..." Carla says dreamily, smiling. Andrew can't help noticing how pretty her smile is. "I'm sorry, I digress again, haha," Carla shakes her head apologetically, "in hindsight, the photos I took were awful, but I loved what I saw, you know? Just gave you a moment to be there, watching."

"Yeah." Andrew doesn't even realize he's smiling.

"So, what about you? Where do you normally go?"

"Regent park, when there aren't many people around. My dad's family lives in the countryside, so when we go there for summer holidays or Christmas, I'd take photos of farm animals." He peeks at Carla timidly, but is relieved to find her nodding at him encouragingly.

"That's lovely! Speaking of animals, look, we're holding a competition open to the whole school called 'galloping'," Carla picks up a leaflet from the table and hands it over to Andrew, "weird name, isn't it!? You'd think we'd only accept photographs of horses, but no. Look at the requirement, it says 'we want to see works that show vitality and vigor'. It doesn't even have to be animals. You can set a countdown to take a selfie of yourself jumping up in the air, I suppose," Carla giggles, "I'm sure we'll receive a lot of submissions like that."

Andrew turns the leaflet around, skimming through the content, smiling. It feels so good to have someone talk to him at length about something he enjoys too, and in such a friendly, kind way. He now regrets not having done something to know more about the photography club until now.

"What's your camera?"

"Well, actually it's a really old model. My dad bought it three years ago..."

On and on they talk, from cameras to photographers to their favorite sites and the photos they're most proud of. Andrew comes to know that Carla is in the same year as he is, wants to study History of Arts next year in university and loves marshmallow dipped in hot chocolate, because they've been talking about photos they've taken of food. This is perhaps the longest conversation he's had with a girl in years. In a good way.

"Andrew!"

A familiar voice calls out to him from across the hall. Startled in mid-sentence, Andrew turns his head around to find Sarah trotting up to him, her frizzy, dense blond hair cascading down her shoulders ruffled, her cheeks flushing, the first buttons of her shirt unbuttoned. The scene of last night flashes up in his mind unbidden, and Andrew is appalled to feel his cock hardening all over again. Turning around in a desperate attempt to hide his boner from his new acquaintance, Andrew stares down at Sarah, who has stopped before him, panting slightly.

"It's a bit early, isn't it?" Andrew says, feeling stupid. He can't say "I loved coming against you" right now, apparently.

"Oh, I got the exercises done early. Mrs. Willington said I could leave."

"As always."

"No, this time they were too easy. I don't think they're up to the competition standard, so I asked her to send me some more difficult ones for tonight. Are you done here?"

Although Andrew is used to his sister's domineering tone, there's something unusual in her voice and her glistening eyes that is making his cock harder. He swallows.

"Yeah, I guess."

Twisting only his upper body around so that Carla won't notice his raging hard-on, Andrew smiles at her self-consciously, raising the leaflet in his hand.

"Um, thank you so much. I'd better go. I'll check the competition out."

"You're welcome!" Carla flashes him a warm smile, "hope to see your submission!"

Andrew's heart hammers in his chest as he follows Sarah and exits the hall, making their way towards the main entrance.

"Who is she?"

"Just a girl from the photography club. Told me about a competition."

Sarah says nothing. As they turn into an empty corridor, she suddenly turns around, grabbing the lapel of his shirt and starting to drag him along.

"Sarah?-"

Unmoved by his confusion, Sarah flings a narrow ventilation door on her left side open and throws themselves into what seems like a closet, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Sarah -- what are you doing!"

"Shh!"

Andrew finds themselves locked in the cramped, dark space of a storage room for cleaning utensils, Sarah's petite frame pressed against him, her familiar sweet scent filling his nostrils. Strands of LED lights from the corridor fall unevenly into the damp little room that smells of ashes and disinfectant.

"You're crazy -- they'll find us! They're doing the cleaning after school! There're security cameras!"

"I'm not wearing panties."

Oh, God.

All rational thoughts vanish in an instant from Andrew's brain. As Sarah wriggles against him, moaning and panting into his neck, it takes him far too long to realize what she is doing. Her right hand is unmistakably drawing little circles around her clit, and her left hand is unbuttoning the remaining buttons of her crinkled shirt, exposing her white lacy bras and naked stomach. Gasping, Andrew throws both hands unconsciously up in the air out of pure shock, his cock painfully hard.

"I've been very bad, Andrew," she purrs, "you have to punish me."

"...What-?"

"I've been touching myself all day thinking of you, of your cock," another soft moan, "I shouldn't do that. I should have begged you first. Asked for your permission."

This is an entirely new dimension. A few more seconds like this, and he's sure he's going to come into his boxers again.

"What...? How...?"

Get a grip, Andrew. You can do this. You have to. Grinding his teeth, he forces himself to calm down. Just calm enough to think for a second. This is their game. He's got this.

"Please Andrew," the way Sarah is making little noises as she touches herself is driving him crazy. Her plump little tits have been pulled free from her bras, and are now pressed tightly against his chest, "touch me."

As his trembling hands grab hold of Sarah's soft tits, she lets out a little moan and starts to rub her clit more violently, her delicious hips grinding against his hard cock, "more," she begs, tightening her fingers on his around her naked tits, "hurt me."

Something inside Andrew snaps. It's only with a little surprised yelp from Sarah that he realizes he has turned her around and bent her over, both of her hands having to hold onto the opposite wall for her to stay on her feet. Flinging her uniform skirt up, he feels as if he had been dealt a heavy blow on the head. She is entirely naked from waist to knees, her pink, puffy wetness glistening in the dim light from the corridor outside, her slender thighs and calves in knee socks twisted together.

"Please," Sarah squeaks, "please-"

"Oh," Andrew pants, "oh, God."

She wails as Andrew thrusts three fingers all at once into her dripping cunt out of pure instinct, bending over across her back and reaching out the other hand to twist and pinch her hardened nipples, his entire body trembling. She is so tight. He starts to pick up a steady rhyme, sliding his fingers in and out of her warm, tight walls, groaning from frustration as his hard cock strains against the crotch of his trousers. Sarah moans and jiggles beneath him, rocking her hips against his fingers for more friction.

"Andrew," she looks over her shoulder back at him as he fingers her, colors high in her cheeks, her eyes pleading, "please, I want to touch myself."

"Touch yourself, Sarah," he can't believe he is sliding into the role so readily and easily. Even his voice sounds alien to himself, "I want you to come."

With a deep sigh, she reaches one hand down and starts to rub her clit again in time to the thrusts of his fingers, her noise growing dangerously louder, her naked hips swinging and twisting before him in the most sensual form he's ever seen. From being a virgin who'd never held a girl's hand to doing what he's doing right now to his own sister in one week, he must have been blessed or cursed by some unfathomable design of fate.

Andrew's mind is a jumbled, sludgy mess. They're hidden in a shabby cleaning closet at school doing unspeakable things forbidden to siblings. They're making a lot of noise. They're going to get caught. And here he is, fingering his half-naked sister and playing with her nipples, bent on getting her off, his cock rock-hard in his trousers.

He feels it as it hits her, the sudden tightening and contracting of her cunt around his fingers and a warm gush of liquid trickling down his wrist. Sarah's entire body stiffens, one hand flying up to cover her own mouth to no avail as he can still hear her broken little whimpers, her legs twitching and wobbling, threatening to give way. It astonishes him that no one seems to have heard them or at least shown signs. Blood roaring in his ears, Andrew straightens up slowly, his mind entirely blank.

What has he just done?

Panting, turning around, Sarah slides down slowly against the wall onto the floor, staring up at him with widened eyes. Taking a trembling step back until his back is pressed against the rickety door, his eyes moving between Sarah and his drenched hand back and forth, Andrew finally lets out a groan, turning around and flinging the door open, fleeing the scene like a hunted fugitive.

*

"Andrew! Andrew!"

A lead ball hangs in the pit of her stomach as Sarah rushes across the school's front yard after Andrew, who is scurrying away towards the school's front gate as if on the run, his head bent down. The day's classes ended, the campus is now dark and quiet, save for a few scattered lights in the main building that indicate some unfinished extracurricular activities.

She can still feel the soaking wetness between her legs and the lingering heat of such a core-shattering orgasm coiling in her lower stomach. Her brother has made her come with his fingers in a way she has never dreamt of before. But she is so scared. Scared that she has somehow hurt him, crossed a line, and that now she's lost him forever. She has reasons to believe so. Swallowing hard, panting heavily from the rushing and anxiety, she finally catches up with Andrew at the bus stop outside the school's front gate where they'll take the bus home. The street is dark and deserted, almost all students and school staff having gone home.

"Andrew!"

He finally turns around to stare down at her as she stops beside him and tugs at his sleeve, his face pale, his hair disheveled. Sarah can't help noticing his boner still hasn't gone away.

"Talk to me, please," Sarah pleads, feeling a sudden urge to cry. Having probably sensed her distress, Andrew leans down and presses a kiss onto the top of her head, but says nothing. Closing the distance between them, she stretches out her arms and holds him tight, closing her eyes and listening to his powerful, steady heartbeat. He holds her back, pressing another kiss onto her hair.

"Are you mad at me?"

"...No."

"Why did you run away?"

Taking a step back and staring up at him, Sarah is surprised to find his eyebrows knitted in a deep furrow, fear and agitation written across his face.

"This is pure madness. I can't be doing this to you. What if we get caught? What if Mom and Dad find out? I-"

"Is this what you're worried about? Getting caught?"

Andrew stares at her, his mouth agape.

"We won't," Sarah says firmly, her hand tightening on his arm, "we're smarter than that."

"No! I mean, obviously, but are you -- are you really...?"

"Don't assume I'm a fucking victim, Andrew Larrison," anger flares up inside her, "I'm an adult and so are you, and we can make our fucking decisions, however bad they are."

For a moment Andrew says nothing. He slumps down onto the bench of the bus stop, burying his face in his hands. Sarah follows him and sits down beside him, her heart thumping in her chest.

"So, this is what it is -- a bad decision." Andrew murmurs.

"I don't know! I don't care! I just want you, I loved it when you made me come. Is that a crime now?"

"Technically it can be."

"Fuck that shit!" Sarah shouts, enraged like a caged beast.

"I just don't know how to deal with this. I've never been with any girl before, and all of a sudden, I'm fingering my sister. Am I going to have a normal relationship? How am I supposed to tell my future girlfriend about it?" Andrew is raising his voice, which she has almost never seen him do before.

Sarah's heart sinks. She suddenly finds it hard to breathe. Not having heard a reply from her, Andrew glances down at her, and seems surprised to find tears streaking down her cheeks, which she is trying to keep him from seeing by turning her face away.

"Sarah-"

"Don't!"

She pushes him away forcefully, doubling over and burying her face in her hands, sobbing quietly, her shoulder blades trembling. She can't do this. But she doesn't find it in her to push Andrew away again either when his arm, warm and strong, holds her shoulders and pulls her towards him.

"Don't cry, please," he sounds helpless, "please don't cry. I don't like seeing you cry."

Sarah feels like the biggest asshole in the country. The most selfish, depraved, disgusting-

"We can make this work," she hears Andrew murmur, still a bit timorously, "we can make this work. Right now, you don't have a boyfriend and I don't have a girlfriend. We'll talk when things change, right?" he swallows, "and... and I like what we've been doing. I don't want to stop it. I know it sounds selfish but-"

"You'd be the biggest idiot in the world to want to stop it," Sarah raises her head up from her hands, twisting her body around to face him, sniffing, "and I'm not saying this because I'm a narcissist."

Andrew smiles down at her. "You're not. You're...you're just so pretty. I know boys like you, I hear them talk about you. Maybe I'm a jerk, but it makes me feel proud that now you're doing this with me, and I...I'm just..." he is stammering again, looking away, his face flushing pink.

He is beautiful, Sarah realizes. They don't resemble each other very much as siblings, one having chestnut curls, brown eyes and their father's tall stature, the other petite with frizzy blonde hair and their mother's blue eyes. One with their mother's temper and ambition, the other their father's introversion and accommodating nature. She realizes for the first time how perfect they would be for each other, if it weren't for their blood relation and her negligence and pride. If she had just made a bit more effort to be nice to him...

They used to be close, Sarah recalls with a pang in her heart. Hanging out together in the playground every day after school, inventing adventures on Andrew's dog-eared exercise books, sharing comic books, video games and crumbled chocolate biscuits. Staying up late at night watching Indiana Jones with Dad because Mom was too busy at work. Then middle school came, her excellent marks suddenly making the burden on her shoulders grow tenfold. Expectations from teachers, parents, herself. While Andrew was still Andrew, the shy, ordinary, unremarkable kid. They just grew apart. She just pushed him away.

"Do you remember Katherine from middle school you had a crush on but never got to talk to?"

Andrew's cheeks flush deeper. "Yeah, why?"

"I remember I was wondering, what the hell, she looks a lot like me."

Andrew's face is burning now. Such affection for him is swelling up inside her that she is almost tearing up.