A Christmas Gift

Jennifer woke in a hot sweat, the juicy fire burning between her legs - again. Every night since her brother Kent had made her a woman (see The Love of a Sister) she'd been having these dreams; why should Christmas be an exception? She reached into her bedside table and pulled out the thing she'd bought at that little discreet store on the edge of downtown. It hummed as she gently pushed it into her wet tunnel and massaged herself with it. A sharp intake of breath and a joyful tightness in her lower back told her when it had done its job.

She pulled the pink vibrator out, turned it off and licked up the juices coating it. She rubbed it gently on her tummy as she got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. A few minutes of soap and hot water got it good as new, and she wound it back up to make sure it would be ready for tomorrow. Then she set it aside, wet and soaped another cloth, and started scrubbing her sensitive mound.

Kent rounded the corner and immediately ducked back.

"Geez Jen, I thought I told you to close the door when you did that!"

"Come on, Kent, it's not like you haven't seen it before!"

Kent breathed deeply several times. Ever since he... they... that day, it was like a dam had burst in his little sister. She wasn't wearing her flannel pyjamas to bed any more and she would do her morning ablutions in the altogether, and the less said about that - thing - the better. The worst part was, whenever he saw her his body would react just a little bit and it would take an hour or more for the aching to stop. He was thinking he'd have to hire a chaperone in his own house. He went back to the basin of cold water he'd taken to keeping in his room; as he washed and shaved he tried not to think of Jennifer.

Kent went down to the living room; the Christmas tree stood in the corner like it had when Mom and Dad were still alive. With just the two of them there were only a couple of presents under it, but there was still no shortage of love in the... Kent scrunched his eyes together and tried to banish the rest of the thought. As he lit the small candles on the tree he scolded himself. Was it cheeky to get Jennifer a nightgown and robe? Probably, but maybe she'd take the hint and stop walking around... like that.

Jen bounced into the kitchen, half-expecting to see Mom cooking breakfast. No such luck. It had been eight months and she still missed them. She liked cooking for her and Kent, but their parents' absence still left a hole. She gathered ingredients, mixed up the pancake batter, put the eggs on to boil and the skillet to heat, and then started frying the bacon. Mom had always used fresh bacon fat to grease the pan for the pancakes, and there was no way Jen was going to break that tradition.

After breakfast and the dishes the pair retired to the living room. Each picked up their carefully-wrapped present and handed it to the other. Jen was afraid Kent would skip the quick kiss that usually followed, but he was true to the ritual. She wished she could kiss him harder, or better yet slide that hard fleshy shaft into her opening.

Kent won the coin toss, so he opened his present first. He looked in awe at the leather flyer's jacket and cap, along with the riding trousers and coarse shirt.

"It's beautiful, Sis. What's the occasion?"

"Christmas, you idiot. And I thought you could wear it and fight crime again."

"Look Jen, you know Mister Justice can never show his face again. Not after..."

"Then don't be Mister Justice! That's what this is about; you wore a mask before, and with the cap on and the goggles down you will again. Call yourself the Fightin' Flyer, or something like that."

"But I..."

"And also, the Fightin' Flyer could go on a date now and then. The real crime would be not sharing that national treasure," she pointed between his legs, "with the world."

"Jennifer!"

"I know what I'm talking about, Kent; trust me."

"I don't know, Sis, but I'll consider it. Now you open yours."

Jen tore into the paper with childlike glee. She pulled out the silk robe with the faux-fur trim and held it in front of her.

"It's gorgeous, Kent! I love it! How do I look."

Decent. "It's lovely on you. But look in the box again."

Her eyes widened and her gape turned to a smile and a squeal of delight. She lifted the filmy pink negligee out of the box and held it up.

"Wow, Kent, I didn't think you had it in you to buy this. It's so adorable!"

Kent shook; that wasn't the nightie he'd picked out. "Are you sure you like it Sis? The lady at the store said I could exchange it if..."

"Don't you dare! In fact, I have to try this on."

Rather than run to her room, Kent watched as his sister turned her back and shucked out of her clothes and underwear, then popped on the near-transparent nothing that came about halfway down her all-too visible thighs. As Kent's manhood reacted he thought to himself, please let it not fit, please let it not fit; I can say they didn't have one in her size...

It fit perfectly, from her musical breasts (middle-C) to her gently rounded thighs and the dark dot of pubic hair that made her crotch look like an inverted exclamation point. She spread her arms in a look-at-this gesture. Kent gaped and couldn't stop staring until she pulled the robe on and cinched it. At least that covered her.

Jennifer jumped into Kent's lap. "That's the best gift ever!" She gave him a big wet kiss and held him way too close for comfort. "Now you try yours on."

"Sure thing, Jen." He picked up the box and turned toward the stairs.

"Nuh-uh, Kent. Right here." She grabbed his trousers and pulled them down to his knees.

"Jen, you'll see my..."

"I've seen it before, Kent." I've even played on it. A little part of her started to get warm again.

It took some coaxing to get Kent to strip down to his jock cup, but he eventually did. Jen admired his firm butt cheeks as she handed him his clothes.

"Jen, shouldn't I wear underpants?"

"Fightin' Flyer doesn't need them." Soon he was fully dressed.

"Okay, Jen, how do I look?"

"A bit shorter, Kent, or should I say Fightin' Flyer, but absolutely wonderful!"

"Uh, about the name..."

"Don't you like it, Kent?"

"It's not that; it's just... look down, Jen."

She looked down at her feet. They were bare and perfectly fine. So was the rug, about eight inches below them. As she stared in shock the distance increased and her head lightly bumped the ceiling.