Foreign Sister American Brother
Brother teaches his new foreign stepsister the American way.
My name’s Katrina. I was born and raised in the poverty of Russia. My mother and I languished our whole lives working as maids for less money than could buy food.
As if our prayers were answered, one day by chance mother met a rich American businessman and in a whirl wind romance we were off to live our lives in America.
Even on the plane ride over when I should have been happy I was still depressed by the simple fact that some things weren’t changing. Mother was always very cold and hateful. She didn’t love this man anymore than he loved her. He was rich and she was young, pretty, and desperate. What would become of their marriage?
Worse yet what would become of me? I’d never been to school and couldn’t read or write Russian, let alone speak English. How would I survive in this strange land? I knew I couldn’t depend on either my mother or new stepfather for anything.
My fears were confirmed when we arrived at my new home. Mother simply abandoned me to take off on her year long honeymoon with only a slight introduction to my new brother Chris, whom was home for summer from college.
“Just do what he tells you to Katrina and don’t get into any trouble. I won’t allow you to blow this for me. Prove yourself useful for once and cook and clean for him. Do you think your tiny brain can manage that?” she said without even turning around to look at me.
“But mother? We don’t even speak the same language. You can’t just abandon me in a strange country for a whole year.” I pleaded.
She slapped me across the face hard. “Don’t you dare presume to tell me what I can and cannot do!”
“Please mother, at least give me your phone number so I can call you.”
“You don’t need my phone number because you won’t need to call me! And I sure as hell won’t be calling you!”
And with that she was gone.
I wanted to run inside flop on my bed and cry myself to sleep but I had no home anymore. I ran into the back gardens and broke down sobbing on the ground. I had no one, nothing. Not even someone to talk to.
As I lay there sobbing I felt a caressing arm around me and a loving hand tenderly wipe my face of its tears. It was my new brother Chris. He looked into my reddened eyes with such care I knew he was a good man. His right hand continued to massage my bruised cheek. Perhaps he’d seen my mother slap me.
“Don’t cry. Don’t cry pretty sister. We’ll have lots of fun together.” And with that he took me by the hand and led me on a tour of my new home.
With my brother leading the way my prison soon became a paradise. They were very rich and their mansion was enormous and lavishly decorated. Although I barley understood a word he said he held my hand very affectionately the whole time and tried his best to make me feel at home.
My brother showed me to a bedroom I presumed was his with a computer and opened up an email with my photo. “My father sent me this picture of you from Russia.” he said, slowly sounding out the words to help me understand. He pointed to himself smiling. “Brother very excited about having pretty sister Katrina. Made many preparations.”
“Where Katrina sheep?” I asked the best I could in English.
My brother patted on the big waterbed with white micro fleece sheets. “Katrina sleep here.” he answered.
I’d presumed this was his room? “Where brother sheep?”
He patted on the bed again. “Here.”
I must not have understood. Which room was mine and which room was his in this gigantic house?
Chris pointed to himself and then me. “This room Chris’s and this room Katrina’s. In America brothers and sister share same room.”
Certainly not in a house this big? Besides there was only one bed.
He could see by the puzzled look on my face I was still confused. “In America brothers and sister always share same room and share same bed. Is OK. Is American way.” he said.
My brother opened two very large closets. The first containing men’s clothes and the second containing girls’ clothes. “See? Brother and sister share same room in America. These Chris’s clothes, and these Katrina’s clothes.”
How was it that this entire walk in closet was filled with clothes just for me? I only owned old stained factory workers’ uniforms. “Zister Katrina’s clothes?” I asked with a puzzled look on my face.
“Pretty sister Katrina’s clothes.” answered my brother smiling boldly. “When brother knew pretty sister was coming, brother bought all these pretty American clothes for pretty sister.”
This was simply beyond the wildest dreams of any teenage girl, especially a poor one! A whole closet of new clothes just for me!
Beaming I hugged him. “Big brother vonderful! Big brother vonderful!”
As I started to pour over my new found fortune I noticed that all of my new clothes consisted of sheer spandex tops, miniskirts, thongs and g strings, cheerleader uniforms, and very open cleavage mini dresses.
I hated to criticize his extreme kindness but I had to ask, “Veeze zister Katrina’s clothes?”
“Yes. These American clothes. In America this is how pretty American girls dress. Pretty Katrina change.” and he left the room for me to change.
The clothes were glamorous and it was SOOOO wonderful to finally be free of my ugly hand me downs I’d worn like a prison uniform my whole young life. The only panties I could find were thongs and all the tops were completely see through leaving none of my very ample breasts to the imagination.
I finally found a white mini dress I liked. It had a completely open cleavage which gave me a lot of self esteem. I looked at myself in the mirror proud that I could finally show off my endowments. The dress was so short though that it didn’t fully cover my hips, meaning my white thong panties could be seen whenever I moved or walked. Oh well. I would simply have to get used to the way American girls dressed.
I searched for shoes and socks but found none. Oh well, I couldn’t expect my brother to know my shoe size.
I walked downstairs to present myself like a girl on prom night smiling ear to ear.
My brother ran up to me very excited kissing me on the cheek and holding both my hands. “Oh my you’re gorgeous! You’re the prettiest sister any American brother could hope to ask for!”
Not fully understanding what he said I asked, “Zister Katrina pretty?”
“Oh yes!” he said kissing me again. “Sister Katrina VERY pretty!”
“Zoos?” I asked, looking down at my bare feet.
“No shoes. No shoes for pretty feet.” he answered and led me to the living room couch.
My brother laid me down and put my legs over his lap and began very affectionately massaging my bare feet. It felt so wonderful. How many days had my feet ached from working? All my life I’d been a laboring slave and now I was being treated like a princess.
After dinner my brother turned off the lights and we watched a scary movie on the couch. I couldn’t understand what they were saying but it was obvious what was happening. Cosmonauts were being killed on a space ship by a monster. In one terrifying scene a monster came out of a man’s chest during dinner. I screamed and cuddled up with my brother whose loving arms were all too comforting. Snuggling up with him on the couch was so much fun that I secretly looked forward to sleeping in the same bed with him.
I wasn’t sure what American girls slept in but my brother eagerly handed me a pink silk robe to change into in the bathroom. Just like all of the dresses it was far too short and revealed my thong. I hope my brother didn’t mind.
When I returned to bed my brother was wearing boxer shorts and a tee shirt. Hopefully he didn’t notice how terrified I was. Not that I didn’t secretly look forward to cuddling up with him again but I was very nervous sleeping in the same bed with a man for the first time. What would it be like?
The bed was sheer heaven. The soft micro fleece massaged my whole body.
After turning off the lights my brother nuzzled up next to me and leaned in to kiss me goodnight on the lips but pulled away.
“Open mouth.” he instructed, sticking his tongue out. “Is American way of kissing.”
I mimicked him and opened my mouth. A wave of heat ran up my body as my brother’s tongue glided with mine. Oblivious to the world I questioned nothing as we held the kiss for several minutes. Our tongues fighting desperately to merge into one.
Afterwards it took time for me to catch my breath and come back to reality. WHAT had just happened? What was this new kind of kiss my brother just tought me?
As if reading my mind, Chris answered, “Is OK. In America this is how brothers and sisters kiss. It’s called ‘American kissing.”‘
“Iz not French?” I asked.
“No. American kissing. Pretty sister like?” he asked stroking my long golden hair.
“Ya! Zister like lot!” I nodded profusely.
My brother looked deep into my eyes very pleased with himself.
We snuggled together and I rested my head on his chest as he stroked my cheek and gentle sleep took us.
I awoke in the morning to discover something very hard pressing against my thigh. Curious I reached under the covers to see what in the world it could be. I blushed with embarrassment when I realized it was coming from my brother’s own boxer shorts.
I giggled as I pulled back the covers and saw the Washington Monument fighting to break free from his shorts while he slept oblivious to the world.
Still giggling I covered him up gain. I’d always thought morning wood to be an urban legend but now I’d experienced it for myself. I knew it wasn’t his fault and I shouldn’t have giggled and made fun of him. “Brothers get boners.” a friend with an older brother had told me once.
When my brother did awake he immediately announced, “I have to use the bathroom.” and scurried away unsuccessfully trying to hide his manhood.
Oddly I didn’t hear the toilet flush but I did hear him wash his hands. But when he emerged his erection was gone and he had a big smile ear to ear and seemed very relaxed. I guess he really had to go.
Chris led me to an enormous bathroom where the tub was so big it didn’t fill with a faucet but an enormous waterfall. My brother poured me a bubble bath as my eyes grew to hens’ eggs. I couldn’t believe this was my new life.
As soon as my brother left the room I quickly slipped in. It was at least 4 feet deep and big enough for me to swim around in. I dunked my head under the water and played with the bubbles.
All of a sudden a splash of water hit me in the face. I looked over and saw it was Chris trying to play with me!
I quickly covered me breasts with my arms and looked away hoping not to see my brother naked. Fortunately the bubble bath kept us both very concealed.
He swam directly in front of me saying, “Is OK. In America brothers and sister take baths together. What’s wrong?”
I didn’t know what to say, but still shy I covered myself with my arms and looked away.
“What’s wrong? Sister Katrina thinks big brother is ugly? Sister does not like big brother?”
I could tell by his broken voice that he was starting to cry. I worked up the courage to look at his face and saw tears welling in his eyes. Oh no! Without realizing it my shyness had hurt his feelings deeply. And after he’d been so tender to me.
My body relaxed. We were both so covered in bubbles it was really silly for me to try and cover myself. “No! Zister love big brother! Big brother very very handsome! Zister zorry. She just shy.”
My apology seemed to work because he swam behind me and began caressing my long golden hair. “It’s OK. Brother wash sister’s hair.”
I’d never even been to a salon before so having my hair washed by someone else was a new experience. During the entire bath my brother and I never did see each other naked but just knowing I was naked and he was naked under the bubbles was enough to give me a certain wicked thrill.
It was an excitement I didn’t want to end. That day I didn’t feel shy at all about wearing a sheer top, thong, and miniskirt. Of course my brother was all too pleased. Every time he looked at me his eyes went straight for my breasts which were on open display. It made me feel good about my body.
From now on every time we kissed our tongues glided together. We tried to watch another movie but failed. While the movie was playing we tongue wrestled on the couch the entire time.
My brother’s hand slid up my open skirt and stroked my inner thighs. I put up no resistance even when he took my hand and led it to his trousers opening them. My virgin hand explored the hardness of his underwear until finally he opened them as well to free his swelling organ.
I broke away from our kiss only so I could look down and marvel at my brother’s erection. I’d never seen a penis before. As if sensing my curiosity, my brother took my hand and brought it to his organ. Showing me it was alright to caress it. I lovingly explored every hot throbbing vein of my brother’s manhood.
Chris scooped me up in his arms and carried me across the threshold to our bed. He laid me down, reached under my miniskirt and slipped off my thong panties. I helped him by raising my legs eagerly.
As if too overwhelmed by my new found happiness I had to ask, “Big brother? Brothers and zisters in America do this too?”
My brother caressed my cheek and looked at me lovingly in my eyes. “Yes pretty sister. Brothers and sisters in America do this too.”
Of course by now I knew he was making all of this up as he went along. I just didn’t care!
My brother slipped of his clothes and I opened my legs to receive him. His loving trusts made my face flush and my breaths quicken and soon I was moaning and writhing with pleasure. The sheer sinful pleasure of making love with my own brother.
Fearing I would fall into oblivion I clung onto him tightly and wrapped my legs around him. Just as I was about to faint from pleasure my brother pulled away very suddenly and stood over my face plunging his organ into my welcoming virgin mouth. I didn’t understand why until his seed exploded inside of me, quickly filling my mouth too fast for me to swallow and pouring out of my cheeks running down the side of my mouth.
We both cuddled together on top of our covers desperately trying to catch our breaths.
I lay there dumbstruck staring at the ceiling with my brother’s sperm still drying on my lips.
After several minutes my brother and I turned to each other. “I love you so much. You’re the best.”
“Vhy big brother? Brother so handsome, brother can have any pretty girl in America. Vhy brother choose poor little zister?” I asked licking my lips.
“Because I’ve always wanted a beautiful sister like you that I could have all to myself. Girlfriends are just someone else’s leftovers. They could never love me the way you can. And I could never love any of them the way I could love my own sister.
“But I was a lonely only child until I saw your picture and I found out you were coming to live with me. I was so excited. It was my greatest fantasy come true. A beautiful sister all to myself.”
His fantasy may seem crazy but for us it worked. What boyfriend would have treated me as well as my brother had? He could never hurt me. He’d be my prince and I’d always be his sister the princess.