The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When my parents told me about Ellora, I tried to be cool about it.

Apparently it had happened while I was away at college—there’d been some kind of course on alternative lifestyles at school, and my sister had come home and told them that she…

Well, that she was a nudist.

My sister is eighteen, seven years younger than me. We’d been a bit too distant to be close growing up, and I hadn’t seen her in a year. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to react.

How do you react when you learn your sister is a nudist?

So, like I said, I just tried to be cool about it. Cool older brother, that’s the card I was playing.

At least, that’s what I aimed for. When Ell came home, I may not have been as cool as I’d hoped.

Here’s the thing—in the year since I’d last seen my sister, she’d filled out. I don’t know a lot about cup sizes, but as soon as she walked through the door, my eyes were drawn to her cleavage. She had those beautiful round tits, the type that seem to hold themselves up without a bra.

I don’t know if nudists have like a code of manners or anything like that. Maybe what my sister did is totally normal. But I can tell you, as the person on the receiving end of it, it felt fucking weird.

As soon as my sister got home she gave me a long hug (during which I couldn’t help but be aware of those lovely firm tits of hers, pressing against me) and then, like I said, stripped off.

Without ever breaking eye-contact.

It wasn’t like a strip-tease or anything like that…it was all very matter of fact. She removed her shoes and socks, then took off her blouse (carefully folding it in half) and put it on the table next to the door. She slipped out of her skirt, and put it on top of the pile. And then, watching me as I watched her, transfixed, she reached behind herself and undid her bra.

As her tits fell into view, my suspicions were proved correct—they really did hold themselves up without a bra. She dropped the bra on the floor, and wiggled her hips as her panties lowered, revealing her pussy to me, her older brother.

Maybe I was the one who did something wrong. Maybe when your kid sister starts stripping in front of you, the correct thing to do is to look away.

All I know is that what I did was definitely the wrong thing…

I got hard.

I don’t think Ellora noticed, and I certainly didn’t draw any attention to it. As she pulled her panties down, I couldn’t resist a quick peek—my baby sister wasn’t shaved, but she looked like she was pretty neatly trimmed. I guess when you’re a nudist, pubic hair maintenance becomes much more important, whether you’re sexually active or not.

Was my sister sexually active?

No. No, that was something I didn’t want to think about.

I smiled awkwardly, with no idea how to react. Ellora sensed my discomfort, and laughed.

She gestured for me to come closer, and pulled me in for a huge.

A hug. With my naked sister.

I couldn’t imagine anything weirder.

As she pulled away from the hug, she leaned in, and pushed her mouth against mine. Soon, our tongues were playing, entering each other’s mouths, and I began to run my fingers down her bare back…

No.

I blinked twice. My sister was still hugging me, and my lips were dry—we hadn’t kissed. Why would I kiss my sister? Why would I even think that.

“I’ve gotta head out,” I said, and rushed for the door, grabbing my car keys off the way.

“What happened to playing it cool?” I asked myself, as I drove to a friend’s house, eager to drink beer and play video games and think about anything but the sight of my sister, stripping in front of me.

It didn’t take me long to cool off. I didn’t mention anything to Dion about my sister. I know exactly the kind of jokes he’d make, and I just wasn’t in a place to deal with that right now. After a couple of hours of hanging out with him, I’d had enough, and when I arrived home, everyone was at the dinner-table.

Including Ellora.

Still nude.

Like I said, I really had no idea how to deal with my sister’s new lifestyle, and I especially had no idea how to deal with my reaction to it. So I took a cue from my parents, and just sat at the table, chatting and eating, just like I would if my younger sister’s tits weren’t staring me in the face.

After dinner, I headed up to my old room—my parents had kept everything just the way it was when I left, even my old computer, and so I booted it up to see what Facebook was up to.

I’d been social mediaing for about half an hour when my door swung open, and my sister walked in. She didn’t say anything, just stood at the doorway for a second, one arm above her head, a thoughtful look on her face.

She shaves her armpits, I noticed, and after a polite smile, turned back to the computer.

I wanted to treat her like my kid sister, but call me a prude or call me a pervert, I couldn’t. When someone is naked, it’s impossible to interact with them the same way you would if they were clothed, and I just had no idea how to deal with it.

After a few seconds of being ignored, my sister moved. She walked into the room, knelt beside my chair, and just stared at me.

Now I knew I wasn’t the one acting strangely.

“What’s up, chatterbox?” I asked, using a nickname from her childhood.

She didn’t say anything. She just knelt in front of me, and my heart-rate quickened.

“Ell?” I repeated, and she didn’t reply. She just smiled…and the room began to fade away.