Curiosity (2)
"It's warm…."
My sister's first impression after touching my cock.
Even with a single layer of fabric between us, the sensation of her slender hand wrapping around it was profoundly strange. Completely different from doing it myself.
"And?"
"I-it's hard."
Making my own sister do something like this—was I even human anymore?
Versus:
No, she wanted this too. Did I really need to feel so guilty about it?
The match of the century was raging inside my skull.
"……."
Without a word, her hand movements grew rougher. I just watched, not even noticing that her breathing had grown heavier.
"…Noona."
"Hm? Yeah…."
Right before I came, my hand rose to her shoulder on pure reflex. She flinched and stopped moving her hand.
"You scared me…."
"You were that out of it?"
"I-it just… kind of happened."
People are intensely curious about things they've never experienced. Like visiting a skyscraper for the first time—the 63 Building, Lotte Tower—or going to the zoo to see some bizarre animal you've only ever seen in photos. Or firing live rounds for the first time in the military.
Once the information that enters through your eyes and ears has satisfied the brain, it keeps sending signals that it wants more—wants to taste it, feel it, experience it directly. That's why kids throw tantrums. Until they get to play with that toy themselves, the brain keeps screaming for ownership.
We were the same.
Our brains kept signaling that they wanted the next step. Her hands were itching—she kept making strange shapes with her fingers. Mine were itching too, so I didn't let go of her shoulder.
"…Noona."
"Yeah?"
We had touched a taboo that siblings should never touch. No one had seen us, yet it felt like we'd already been condemned. In the awkward silence, I found the courage to speak.
"Can I… touch you too?"
"……I don't have one of those."
"…Not that."
There are two places on a woman that invite curiosity. One is the breasts. The other is the female sex—the pussy. The way she answered indirectly told me she wasn't ready for down there yet. Not that I'd been aiming for that either.
"Where…? My chest?"
"……Yeah. How'd you know?"
"You stare at them all the time."
"……."
As if proving that women's intuition really is that sharp, she'd caught exactly where my eyes went whenever I looked at her. Then again—she wore T-shirts that showed everything, no bra, nipples rubbing against the fabric until they stood at attention. How was I supposed to look away? A man only needs a glance for desire to surge.
"So?"
"So what…?"
"Can I touch them or not."
"……."
She'd probably hoped the conversation would drift past this naturally. But we'd come this far—I wasn't backing down. She'd touched my cock. I desperately wanted to touch her breasts.
"Do whatever you want?"
The upward lilt at the end of her sentence gave her away. She wanted me to touch her, but saying it outright would make her look easy—so the shyness leaked into her voice. We'd lived together for years. I knew that much.
"I'm really going to."
"…Just do it already. Stop dragging it out…."
"……."
Completely different from the times I'd only snuck a hand up. Her breasts pushed back against my palm with a soft resistance, spilling between my fingers, wrapping around them gently. I swallowed hard and managed to curl my stiff fingers.
Years ago, when my friends and I had goofed around in a sex shop and felt up a breast toy—this was nothing like that. Softer. Dirtier. I focused on her chest so hard a moan nearly slipped out on its own.
"You like them that much…?"
"……Yeah. How about you?"
"I don't know… it just tickles."
She looked up at me and whispered it in a small voice. Looking at that cute expression, I started touching her every which way—squeezing, pressing, playing with them the way a child plays with a toy.
"Cheol-ah."
"Yeah."
The nickname she used for me. She used to call me that all the time, back then.
"Can I… touch you again?"
"…As much as you want."
She turned her palm upward, cupped my cock from below, and stroked it back and forth. I touched her breasts; she touched my cock. Our hands grew familiar with each other—rougher, filthier. We were so absorbed we didn't even notice our breathing had turned ragged.
It was only touching, and yet it felt like discovering something entirely new. Thinking about how she'd been walking around completely unguarded in front of me while carrying breasts this soft—it almost made me angry. Had I really looked that harmless to her?
"Can I touch them bare?"
"Bare…?"
Over the clothes wasn't enough. I needed to feel them directly or I wouldn't be satisfied. I wanted to knead that soft skin I'd only felt through fabric—wanted it under my bare palm.
"Then can I touch you bare too?"
"Do whatever."
She seemed hesitant about undressing me herself, so I pulled my clothes down another layer. A cool draft brushed past my cock and sent a shiver through me.
"…Here."
She didn't strip completely. She just rolled her T-shirt up until her breasts were fully exposed. She did it in one motion, no hesitation, and they bounced free into view.
The nipples I'd only ever seen as silhouettes under fabric. Looking at them directly—stiff, raised little peaks that seemed to beg to be tormented by a tongue—my mouth flooded with saliva.
"Hoo…."
"What, are you that nervous?"
"Of course I am. You're not?"
"…I am."
Without the underwear holding it in place, my cock stood straight out. She wrapped her hand around it, angled it upward, and started moving up and down like she was giving me a handjob.
More dangerous than I'd expected. Before I came too fast, I forced my attention elsewhere.
They're really big….
The first thing that grabbed me was the overall visual.
So the thing about nipples getting hard is actually real.
Not flat like a man's—genuinely full, pretty little peaks. If I licked one, it would spring right back up like a roly-poly toy.
"Are yours on the bigger side?"
"What is…?"
"Your chest."
"……I've heard it a lot when I go on trips with my friends."
"Then I guess it's true…."
I gathered both breasts into my hands and pressed them together. Just looking at them was enough to feel the pressure. What would it feel like to put my cock between them? People said it was actually uncomfortable for both parties—was that true?
My cock was raising a thousand questions when—
"Cheol-ah, are you—?!"
"Huh…?"
Apparently precum had started flowing while she stroked me. It worked its way between her hand and my cock, and the friction produced a sticky, wet sound.
Squish. Squish.
With her unskilled hand movements, the urge to come started climbing. Now I understood why men get handjobs even though their own hands feel better, technically. It's not about how. It's about who.
"Noona… I can't hold it."
"Hm…? Hold what?"
"I think I'm gonna come."
"……Come."
"…!"
The moment she understood and said that word, her hand sped up as if she meant it literally—come. Matching her, my hands on her breasts grew rougher, faster.
"Nnh!"
"…!"
My fingers brushed and pressed a nipple by accident. She made a strange sound and covered her mouth. At the same time, the strength left her hand—and the cum that had been trapped inside me shot toward her.
Luckily her shirt was still rolled up, so none of it got on her clothes. It soaked her stomach and ran down.
"U-up. Lie back. Up."
"Okay…."
Before the cum could drip onto the bed, we both lay down facing the ceiling. I casually held out my hand, and she took it. Hard to believe this was the same hand that had just been on my cock.
"Did you feel something?"
"It wasn't that… I just got startled."
"Ah."
I wondered if Mom might have woken up. We'd closed the door, but I still worried it might suddenly swing open. We both held our breath for what felt like thirty seconds—not even a sound of breathing. Fortunately, nothing came from beyond the door.
"Should I get up first?"
"Yeah. You go."
She left for the living room first, still holding her rolled-up shirt. Fine about the stomach—but walking out with her chest completely bare? Was she not even thinking about getting caught by Mom…?
"Hoo…."
Left alone in the room, the post-nut clarity hit hard. What the hell had I just done to my sister? And why had she let me do it?
"Where's Mom?"
"Still asleep, I think."
"Okay."
The bathroom was full of the scent of her shower. My limp cock, and the cum still pooled at the tip, proved that none of tonight had been a dream.
Ah… I'm exhausted.
Coming once in the dead of night, then standing under warm water—the fatigue stacked three layers deep. But I still had to wash. Through half-closed eyes, I rinsed the filth from my body.
I went back to my room feeling clean and soft. …The room reeked of that particular sticky male smell.
"You're still up?"
"If I fall asleep now, you won't be able to get in."
"Since when do you care about that…."
I grumbled for no reason and climbed over her to lie down on the far side. Still—she smelled good.
"……You're not going to tell anyone about today, right?"
"I should be the one asking that. Of course I'm not."
"Good night."
"Yeah."
I closed my eyes with my heart still pounding. But her scent kept drifting over, and I kept waking up in the middle of it.
"Noona."
I casually wrapped my arms around her from behind, and the scent grew thicker. I'd thought she was asleep, but she answered right away.
"Yeah."
"You're not sleeping…?"
"I just can't fall asleep tonight."
"……."
Of course not. We'd done that—as siblings. But she didn't push me away. Instead, she took hold of my forearm.
"This is warm. Makes me sleepy."
"Yeah? That's good."
I felt her small breaths against my arm.
"Really, good night."
"Yeah."
Thankfully, thanks to some sleep-talking, by the time we woke the next morning we were both apart.