As Jim left his bedroom, his thoughts returned to the dream. He recalled the man saying something about furthering his will of desire through tactile contact. He wondered what that could mean, but then again, what difference did it make? It was just a dream.
Lost in his thoughts, Jim headed straight for the bathroom, accidentally bumping into his sister on the way.
"Hey, watch where you're going," Teresa snapped at him. She was only two years older than him (18 years old, to be exact) and was attending the local college. Over the last few years, she began to fill out a bit (in all the right areas), but her breasts were still a little too small for Jim's tastes - only a B-cup.
He caught himself. Why am I thinking about that? She's my sister, he thought, as he looked at her with wide eyes.
She noticed, then slugged him in the arm. At the moment, she was dressed in only a tight T-shirt, a bra, and a pair of panties.
"Ow!" he yelled out.
"Serves you right, you perv. Stop looking at me like that."
Jim grabbed his arm and began to rub it, before continuing his way to the bathroom. Or at least, that's what he intended on doing. Instead, he was shocked to watch as his hand moved towards his sister. Teresa was just standing there, not making a move. He gently slid his hand up her shirt and then began to caress and squeeze her breasts (through her bra). Instead of being totally disgusted and pissed off by Jim's attentions, Teresa seemed to enjoy it. She moaned in pleasure at the touch of her brother. Jim still couldn't quite believe what was happening or that he even had a part in it.
"Keep doing it," Teresa breathed. "Yeah, right there. Yeahhhhhh," she uttered, feeling the pleasure wash over her some more. "Don't stop."
But Jim did stop. What was wrong with him? He never felt like doing this to his sister before. So why now suddenly? And why was she so content with it? After doing something like this, he thought that she'd want to rip his head off.
"Oh," she whined. "Why'd you stop? I was enjoying it."
But Jim didn't give her an answer. Instead, he ran to the bathroom, feeling embarrassed by what he had just done.
Teresa shrugged her shoulders, then walked downstairs. Her mom was making some breakfast.
