Breakfast with a twist

Not knowing what else to do, but anticipating that today might be different from your life to now, you re-emerge from your bedroom to grab some breakfast. You've just sat down with a bowl of cereal when Julie re-emerges.

You take in what she's wearing, and you can see how her dress sense informed what your mom was wearing earlier. Julie's outfit is essentially a standard school-girl outfit as if she were half-hearted about wearing anything at all: a purple plaited skirt that didn't quite make it to the bottom of the curve of her ass, and long lavender and white striped stockings which ended just above the knee. Her white blouse has a generously deep v-neck that raised doubts as to whether she's wearing a bra, and she has a blue necklace with a large hanging cord running straight down her chest, ending in a marble-like bauble.

She sees you looking to her, and smiles. "Sorry about earlier," she said. "I can never get those towels to stay on properly."

"Uh, no problem. When do you have to get to school by?" you ask, remembering your mother's request.

"It's no rush," she says, "I have a spare period this morning anyway."

She goes to the kitchen to get herself some cereal. You can't help but watch, observing the change in behaviour of your sister.

Julie opens a cupboard and hums for a moment, and decides to reach for something from the top shelf. Her skirt rides up slowly as she reaches up, apparently oblivious to the effect it is having on her clothing. The skirt creeps up, revealing the generous curve of her butt and her leg. If she were facing you, you are fairly certain that you'd be able to see her shaven pussy, though at the moment it's obscured by the angle that she's standing at.

She lands back on her stockinged feet with a slightly annoyed huff. "Hey bro," she says, turning to you a fraction of a second before smoothing down her skirt, so that you don't quite catch another glimpse of her sex. "Could you reach down the Wheatybox for me? Mom always puts it too high." She sways her hips with gentle restlessness, causing her skirt to flare up ever so slightly.

"Okay," you tell her. She smiles impishly as you rise to come to the kitchen: did she notice your slight discomfort standing up?

Julie opens the cupboard with the dishes. She grunts. "Typical, all the bowls are in the dishwasher." You slow as you approach the cereal cupboard, when Julie opens the dishwasher and then myseriously steps to the side of it. She leans over to pull out one of the drawers, letting her blouse fall forward. It was surprisingly loose, and hung open to show her uncovered breasts dangling from her chest. She rummaged around to prise loose a bowl from the over-filled rows of dishes.

Julie looks up at you. "Are you going to get out the Wheatybox or what?" she tells you.

Slightly flustered, unsure if she could tell that you were staring at her chest, you turn to get the cereal. It's easy enough for you to get, and shortly afterward Julie has extracted a bowl. She sets it on the counter.

"Is the milk still out?" she asks. You notice that a couple of buttons on her blouse are undone, which accounts for how widely it was hanging open.

"Nope, I put it away."

She turns to the fridge and opens the door, bending over at a gentle but entirely unneccessary angle, her skirt rising slightly above her butt cheeks once more. You're pretty sure by this point that she's doing this deliberately.

Julie finds the milk and brings it out, and takes it with her bowl and a spoon to the table. You wander after her with her cereal, and put it by her place at the table. You return to your chair to sit down.

You're not sure, but as you sit down you suspect that Julie has undone more buttons on her blouse. The two sides of her blouse hang open, showing a bit of cleavage and the valley between her breasts. There are two points on the front where her nipples are poking into it.

Julie looks up at you with a questioning and very slightly annoyed glance, and you turn back to your own breakfast. Unable to help yourself, you catch a glimpse of her open blouse, and the bit of smooth tit-flesh that it is doing little to conceal.