To her bedroom

You climb the stair with every intention of enjoying your **** sister in the comfort of your own bed, but when you get to the top you see the door of her room hanging half open. Dana doesn't allow you in her bedroom since that one time she caught you with her favorite pair of panties, so it seemed the perfect place to commemorate this new stage in your relationship. You jokingly ask your **** sister's permission, taking her silence as a yes.

It always surprises you how pink Dana's bedroom is. She isn't a tomboy by any means, but the dark pink carpet, hot pink bedspread, and pastel pink curtains are almost girly enough to give you an instant headache. The decor is probably just a holdover from her childhood; she'd had this bedroom her whole life, so some things just aren't worth changing.

You lay your light-enough load on the comforter, admiring the way she sprawls limply across it. You take the time now to really look at her clothes, her figure. She's still in her pajamas; no bra under her flimsy little tank top, and tiny athletic shorts.

Her nipples are surprisingly hard -- you play with them for a while, flicking, pulling, and twisting them through her cotton shirt. Dana is out too cold to move or make any noise, but her body reacts automatically. Her skin flushes, the hair on her arms stand up, and her nipples grow even harder than before.

When you finally pull yourself away from her chest, you notice that the crotch of her shorts are soaked through. Is your baby sister really the specific kind of freaky that would get off that much from literally gagging on her brother's dick? It's only when you bend over to feel the damp patch that you notice the smell -- every muscle in her body had relaxed when she passed out, including the ones in her bladder.

"Aww..." you coo, "Did wittle Dana have an accident? John better change you!"