Curiosity killed the cat

“Hey sis,” He began, interrupting the silence, “whenever you and I are alone, and we don’t expect to get interrupted,” he paused here, trying to pick the right words, “wear only underwear.” He finished, looking up at her, hopeful, yet dreading the consequences if he was wrong. She sighed, before standing up, and placing the yoghurt on the counter, the spoon resting against the wall so as to not pull it over.

“I really should have thought of this when I came down.” She began, even as she striped off her top. Bright pink pyjamas made way for supple flesh, rising up her stomach, toned, from sport, before pausing just beneath her breasts. “I really should have worn a bra.” With a single moment of forewarning, done mentally preparing herself, she raised it up beyond her head, and down, letting it fall to her side, resting it on the counter once she got her arms out. He saw none of it. He saw her body, the skin, the muscles, he felt a momentary jealousy and shame that she was in better physical condition than himself, before once more falling to natural instinct has her chest was barred. The rise and swell, the way they hung, suspended, not large, yet defined enough to not be mistaken as anything other than breasts. Tits. Natural wonders. A B cup, they her torso without looking like an afterthought, something that truly belonged, and with the muscles radiating around it, hidden beneath the skin, he marvelled at the figure she displayed. She slept without a bra, and with the condition being new, had not thought to wear one beneath her pyjamas, the nipples soft, almost flat, even as the cool air caused them to slowly harden and rise, projecting a fraction of an inch from their glorious pedestal. She leaned over to strip herself of her bottoms, thumbs catching within the waistband and drawing it inexorably down. Black peaked from above, seeming to rise into view as the foreground lowered, loose against her hips so as to be comfortable, they were tight enough to hold place, whilst revealing the general shape beneath. The rounded hips, the thick thighs, meeting behind the cover of dark panties. She rose, one foot behind the other, pyjama bottoms in hand as she turned for her yoghurt. She picked up it and her top.

“Sorry bro, didn’t to wear a bra when I came down, so I’m not staying now. Sorry about that. Not right to show you all that. See you later.” Even in hand, she strode out the door, a blush upon her face, rushing down her neck, the tips of her ears, to the swell of her breasts reddening. The hand she held just her bottoms in pinched her leg as she left. By the time David had recovered, she had bolted up the stairs, rushing more with every second, slamming her bedroom door shut behind her.