Older Sister

I've always wanted a sister. And under the **** fetish, there it was: Sister. I could pick older or younger and seeing as I was 21 and I didn't really want to risk getting someone too young, I picked older. From there, it took me to a screen full of minor details. Like, I could pick her submission level, which I set to moderate. I kind of wanted some struggle, but I also wasn't going for all out ****. I got to decide what her specie was, her fur color, eye color, which were all based on the models available. I left those up to the escort service. There was breast size, body type...they even had a section for tail size. I had met those people and I always thought they were a bit odd, if I'm honest. When you have a friend who is constantly gushing over the length of your tail 'cause it's "the prefect length and width and fluffy," it's a bit uncomfortable at times.

That entire screen I pretty much left on random. The only thing I stipulated was I wanted her to be wearing some lace, sheer black underwear and that she have b-cup breasts. I always thought that was the perfect size. Just enough for a handful, great for cupping kneading. And, since I didn't want to disturb my roommate, I opted to meet her somewhere.

Within an hour of confirming my selection, I got a a text from my non-existent sister saying "Happy Birthday, little sis. Why don't you come over and hang out for a bit. We'll watch a movie and have a beer." This was followed by an address. So, I took a refreshing shower and headed out the door.

Plugging the address into my phone, I discovered it wasn't super far away. Driving over, there wasn't anything too weird. Wasn't even really paying attention. I was more focused on what I was gonna do. So much so, I almost ran a red light.

It wasn't until I knocked on the door and an oddly familiar voice called out that it was open that any yellow flags went up. Those flags took me aback quite a bit, like nodding off on the highway and someone in the fast lane blared their horn to wake me the fuck up. It made me immediately survey my surroundings and realize that this place looked oddly like Mom's place. "No. It can't be." Curiosity and the power of boners urged me through the door that was situated on the corner of the building.

Stepping through the door and low and behold, there on the other side of the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen was my white-furred pure blooded mother, pouring some cake batter into a cake pan to go into the oven. She was wearing a white button up shirt and some black and gray jeans. A logical person would have left, but I was more intrigued to see how far mom would allow me to take this. And I was a costumer. "Hey, sis, long time no see," I greeted and Mom finally looked up from her baking.