The days passed, and we kept up with our usual routine and idle banter. Except now, we never bothered askin eachother out of the rooms when we changed. One of us just turned around as the need arose. I remember I once spent an entire hour massaging her foot in my lap while she lied down on her tummy on the bed, wearing nothing more than her knickers. She managed to kick me in the nuts that time. Looking back, I think she was tryin to feel my crotch. It was one insanely sensual experience for both of us.
And even then, I still hadn't seen her naked. I never pressed her, and it seemed to suit her just fine to be comfortable around me.
About a month after our little discussion about her bras, our parents decided to go for a little holiday for a few days, mostly to get away from the drab routine of house chores and other tiresome adult things. Me and my sister stayed back to give them some private time together. They needed it as much as we wanted ours.
Soon after the car left, the first thing we did was cheer and hi five eachtoher and ended up rolling on the sofa in a huge hug. With huge grins, we looked at eachother and knew exactly what we wanted to do. We both raced to the living room upstairs, crashed on the bed, and turned on the TV.
The better part of the next 4 hours was spent watching mindless comedies and standup acts that were on air.
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Without realising it, we'd slowly settled against eachother, my hand around her shoulder, fingers fiddling with the strap of her slip, and her head on my chest, an idle hand tracing lines on my tummy. After our 4 hour marathon, she got up and said she wanted to have lunch. I was dissapointed when I realised how long I'd been so close to her without even realising it. We ordered mexican for lunch and while waiting for it to arrive, wrapped up our morning toilette that should have been done as soon as we woke up.
I didnt see her until the food arrived. When the door bell rung, I heard her come down the stairs, but didnt see her until after I'd paid the delivery guy and set the boxes down on the table.
She was wearing a black bra, a regular one with an under-wire, and ultra low denims. I could see the sides of her bikini panties peep out above the denim pants, resting ever-so-seductively on her hips. In her right hand were a pair of scissors.
"I need some help. " She whined.
"When did you start wearing those?", I asked, indicating her black bra.
"Since today. I conviced mom to buy them. "
"Very nice.
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Congratulations. "
"Yeah thanks. Now listen. "
"I'm all ears. " Actually, I was all eyes, staring back and forth between her face, her cleavage, and the straps of her panties.
She rolled her eyes and ignored it.
"I need you to cut my pants into shorts. "
"Oh? Why do you need me?"
"I need someone to cut them while I'm wearing them. It's the only way to make them look good. Any other way, and they come out uneven. "
"Oh okay, show me were to cut. "
She smiled sheepishly. “I want to turn these into hotpants. ”
I nearly gagged. "And where are you going to wear them? You know dad’s gonna flip when you show them to him.
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"
"What he doesn't know, won't hurt him. . . " She said, with a mischievious sparkle in her eyes.
"Heh. True, that,” I grinned. “Hand me those shears. I'll cut them so tiny you'd be embarassed to wear them in front of me!"
She laughed. That infectious laugh again. "Fat chance of that happening. " She stuck her tounge out, and extended the scirrors towards me, sharp side inwards, like a smart lady.
I accepted the tool and ushered her to her bedroom, in front of her mirror. I was sweating a bit, trying not to let my imagination run wild.
"Okay, snip away. Try not to cut anything important.
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"
"I'll try, Milady," I said with my most unconvincing British accent. We both burst out laughing.
"Enough jokes. I'm hungry. Get to work already!"
"Yeah yeah! Don't get your panties in a bunch!"
I kneeled down, between her and the mirror, and made an incision in the right leg of the denimds, at her thighs, and then cut up until the pockets. Then, a turn to cut all the way around, going high at the sides, and low at her back. I repeated the process for the other leg, trimmed a few uneven edges, and then leaned back for her to examine the results. She turned this way, then that, then stuck her cute butt out. First checking her right side out, then her left, then her back. My gaze was firmly fixed on her ass.
"Make them shorter. "
"Aren't they short enough? Any higher would mean showin your ass. "
"Isn't that what hot pants are about?" She winked at me and looked away, back into her reflection in the mirror, with hands on her hips.
I went to work again. This time, I took a clear inch off the bottom of what remained off the legs.
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The bottom of the pockets were stickin out, without enough material to cover them. I could make out the curves on her derreire where her bum started takin shape. They looked like very enticing, cute, "Push me" buttons. I leaned back again, setting the scissors down, happy with my handiwork.
After another few turns and self-contemplative pouts, my sister said, "Make them more scandalous, will ya? And leave those pockets on the front. Their presence seems to highlight the riddiculous shortness of these shorts. . . " She faded into another thoughtful pose, half biting her lower lip.
I began wondering what to do. There certainly wasn't enough of the legs to cut off now. I cut off another half inch off the back, makin the back seem like a semi-wedgie, but paused for a while considering what I was thinking of doing.
I nudged her hands off her hips and took my scirrors to her waist band.
"Hey wha-" She began.
"Shhh.
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. . Hold still. I think I know what I'm doing. "
She remained silent, holding her hands to her sides, watching what I was doing in the mirror.
I cut off her waist band completely, leaving the front with the button sticking up, above the level of her new waist band.
without the waist band, the hem of the shorts went down a cool inch, and showed off the top of her panties. They were cotton, styled like a bikini, black with a white border. and a very thin waistband at the side that could be worn high on the hips, for a little peep show n tease, or worn low, for ultra low waist stuff.
My sister was standing frozen, with her mouth slghtly agape. I stood up, and stepped back to asses my creation.
More open mouth silence from my sister.
"Well, what do you think? This scandalous enough for you?" I grinned, enjoying the fact that I actually managed to shock her for once.
She regained her composure, and managed to mumble, "How do you expect me to wear these without any panties now?"
She closed her eyes, as if trying to think hard, reformulating strategies. .
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. .
It was my turn to stand agape. My baby sister was actually planning to wear that tiny piece of clothing without any panties on.
"Erm. . . what??" I clearly didn’t have enough blood left in my head to let me think.
"Yeah. . . now they're too low, don't you think?"
I pushed the images of my sister wearing near nothings out of my head, and decided to take charge of the situation for once.
"Noo. . .
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I've seen it done. Loads of celebs are photographed wearing pants this low all the time. " I smiled, trying to make it better for her any way I could.
"Yeah well, they're. . . erm. . . I mean I'm not. . . I. . .
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Well. . . "
"You're not what?" It wasn't too often I found my sister at a loss for words. I had to know what was bothering her.
She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. She tried again, and then stopped again. After looking like a goldfish a couple of more times, she finally took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said, "They're shaved, or have brazillian wax jobs done. I don't. " She opened her eyes and looked at me. It must have been the first time I've seen my sister that vulnerable.
"Oh," I said.
"Yeah, oh," she repeated. "Anyway, don't worry about it, I appreciate your help, and these shorts are killers, even with these panties on. More so, infact.
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Lets go have dinner. I'm starving. " She trotted off out of the room, shaking her cute butt along the way.
I followed her after a couple of seconds, wondering what to do. I certianly wasn't bold enough to offer to shave her. And I didn't think her dad would have sanctioned a brazillian wax job for her. I pushed those thoughts aside and went to have lunch.
Lunch was fun, and we talked about the music we'd been listening to. I was hooked onto Asterix that week, and she'd rediscovered the Beatles. Despite the difference of our tastes that week, we loved all kinds of music all the time and never found it too dificult to appreciate eachother's playlists most of the time. What I DID find difficult was not staring at her jiggling breasts, as she ate her tacos. It seemed that with the parents out of the house, and not comin back for the next three days, she seemed in no hurry to put on anything more than her bra. I did't complain.
After lunch, we got back to the TV, but that turned out to be too boring. She flipped the remote and turned off the TV and faced me.
"Lets play twister. "
.
