Saturday Morning Experiment free porn video

It Begins Here. . . .

I am about to walk nude down the stairs and into the living room where my sister is sitting in an easy chair.

Everything that operates logically in my brain is blasting alarms throughout my body – I feel nauseous and dizzy and my legs tremble. But I'm convinced that it’s necessary to tough this out, to do something that falls outside of the ‘normal stuff’. With a cold clench gripping my heart, I press my bare foot onto the first stair and begin my descent.

This moment is a jumble of fear and uncertainty and expectation – this is either going to end up very horrible or very wonderful. I see why this emotional conundrum is an exhibitionist’s delight; but the shaking is really hard to control. I have no backup plan. I will be totally naked, with no possibility of covering myself or offering excuses. I cannot carry a bathrobe or a towel with me – the whole exhilarating point is being nude on purpose.

My feet slowly take me down the stairs. I struggle for the control to walk in some sort of normal fashion without calling undue attention as I approach – without a good reason I want the element of surprise in my favor. I arrive at the landing and quietly step onto the living room carpet.

Sandy is sitting in her favorite chair, her back toward me. She holds a large novel in front of herself; the television hums away beyond that. It seems cinematically comical – this nerve-wracking escapade is beginning a few feet away from her and she doesn’t suspect a thing.

“There’s coffee ready,” she says, unnaturally fixated to her book. Her words render my heartbeat a constant rumble and as my lungs freeze. I suddenly want to be inconspicuous – I can quickly turn and race up the steps. Then my sister would catch a glimpse of my retreating flesh and accuse me of behaving like a c***d and. . . . . . .

“Great. Thanks,” I reply as I usually do.

I proceed to the doorway, watching Sandy. She is so engrossed in her story that she hasn’t even turned to look toward me. After all this, should I stand here and demand her attention?Amidst my internal confusion, some sort of warped discretion kicks in – I turn and soundlessly walk into the kitchen to temporary safety.

I am now trapped naked in the kitchen with the backdoor as my only means of escape. While I did experiment late one night with a nude stroll in the backyard, running around nude in the daytime will certainly make matters worse – I have no choice now but to see this situation through.

My muscles still refuse to obey me as they shake my hands and fingers. I am actually cold, my arms and legs are like ice. Coffee is a great idea, if for no other reason than to attempt to warm myself. I shudder to the counter and grab a cup. Pouring coffee is quite a feat, given my tremors. I can only manage a half-cup. As I cautiously replace the pot, the inevitable begins.

“We need to go shopping later,” Sandy says from the living room. I can hear her getting up from the chair, the tone of her voice reflected in her movements. She is on her way into the kitchen where she is going to scream and call our parents and the police and the news vans.

She continues speaking but I am unable to focus on her words – I ready myself for what will happen in mere seconds. My stomach bunches up as the coffee vibrates out of the cup. Whatever asinine noble reasons I imagined for this escapade suddenly vanish as Sandy’s voice grows in intensity. Whether I like it or not, my exhibitionist’s desire is about to be fulfilled. I stand frozen in place, facing the kitchen sink.

My sister, very much into her speech of the moment, enters the kitchen nonchalantly. My chest grows even colder. She is moving something on the breakfast area couch, so she has yet to see me. I grab the sink for support and begin to understand her speech once again.

“. . then we can stop after that to. . . What the hell are you doing?” She has obviously noticed my bare ass.

“Wha. . . . . . this. . . . . I. . . . . What the hell are you supposed to be doing?” she struggles with her words.

I have actually pulled off this absurd stunt and I have yet to see her face. Amazingly, the tremors weaken and reality begins to sharpen. The entry into this surreal zone was rough – now that I’ve crossed the threshold, I feel I can take control. My buttocks are only a warm-up – as the feeling returns to my extremities, I inhale and turn and face Sandy. Her open mouth and eyes are equal in size. She looks me in the face for an instant then, inevitably, looks down at my body. Her expression of disbelief may be permanent and her facial muscles may never relax. Like attempted drama in a porn film, I begin to improvise a matter-of-fact speech concerning the logic of this situation.

“Come on, Sandy, we’re both adults,” I calmly begin. (Being naked proves the obvious accuracy of my portion of that statement. ) My voice begins to lose its vibrato. She remains wide-eyed and wide-mouthed. “It’s about time we move out of the past.” I have no idea what other idiotic phrases I am about to say next. My sister still stands motionless holding her coffee cup, frozen perfectly still.

“I spend a lot of my time nude,” I begin a dissertation. “This is a very comfortable and very mature state. I happen to be comfortable with my body. I don’t have fears about myself…” (not for almost 30 seconds) “… so I’ve decided that when mom and dad aren’t here, I am no longer going to wear clothes. They aren’t necessary. You really ought to think about taking your clothes off, you know. ”

While Sandy doesn't immediately drop her garb to the floor and dance around the house, she manages to close her mouth, look me over and consider her position. She carefully approaches the sink with her cup, not getting too close to this bare version of her brother.

“Well. . . ” she intones, “just don’t go outside like that. ”Sandy looks me over again, feigning nonchalance. “I’m not going to deal with the police. ”

“Don’t worry,” I assure her, “This is only indoors. ” (Well, for today. )My internal freeze has thawed and my hands and feet are receiving blood again. Without depositing her flowered mug in the sink, Sandy turns and returns to her haven of safety in the living room. This is quite amazing – she hasn’t freaked. I’m now able to pour a steady cup of coffee as I revel in my first naked victory.

A Whole New (Nude) World

I calmly walk to the living room. My sister is back in her comfy chair, cross-legged in front of the television, book to the side now. She appears a bit stunned – I can’t even begin to imagine her thoughts at this moment. I enter the room, feeling uniquely empowered. I pause next to her chair.

“What are you watching?’ I ask. A woman appears to be cooking a pan of dirt on this program.

“I don’t have any idea,” she replies, “I was distracted by this naked guy. ”Well, she isn’t angry or upset, just off-balance.

I sit down matter-of-factly, as if a naked human on the sofa is the norm in our house. Sandy feigns non-concern as she quietly divides her attention with her book, the TV and, surreptitiously, my body. Sandy is looking my way during normal conversation far more than usual. She initiates small talk as an opportunity to nonchalantly peruse her bare brother. Having finished my coffee, I get up and walk toward her with the intention of taking her coffee cup for a refill.

“More coffee?” I ask.

“No thanks,” she replies, looking up at my face. I pick up her empty mug – from the corner of my eye, I observe her looking my body over, her eye-level view lingering at my penis. While it triggers a tingling of satisfaction, it also whispers to actual arousal. As these more familiar sensations begin to take shape, I turn away from her quiet scan and go back to my own safe haven in the kitchen.

Suddenly The Subject Comes Up

I stand motionless at the kitchen sink. My pulse begins to race as chills shiver through my stomach. I realized the unique satisfaction of an exhibitionist when she first saw me naked in the kitchen. But it is very different from the more obviously sexual arousal triggered when she looked directly at my penis. I pour another cup of coffee, taking notice of my bare body in the mirror next to the refrigerator.

Walking around the house naked with my sister here, watching her quietly examine my body with a wry smile on her face brings exhilaration unlike any I’ve ever known. I must take a few minutes to adjust my other responses before calmly returning to naked TV viewing. How do they do it at nudist camps?

Sandy suddenly breaks the silence. “So what’s with you and Lisa?” she asks. Lisa is her highly oversexed friend who has already gone beyond the polite stage with me. In fact, after we had sex two nights ago, she got me wound up about this ‘going-naked-in-front-of-your-sister’ idea, mentioning how if she had a situation like mine they be used to being nude with each other and she could ask him about how guys like sex and how she would ‘make him let me play with his dick’. . . . .

I had modified her advice and stopped after the ‘nude with each other’ part. But these vivid thoughts are not helping the situation – I now have the early stages of an erection…. and I notice my hormones pick up the conversation.

“Well, hasn’t she talked to you?” I ask, overly-aware of my nearly hard-on. So far, a limp dick is alright to show your sister. But a big stiff one. . . . ?

“Oh, she has,” Sandy replies. She pauses, then adds “She told me she fucked you. ”

Somehow, hearing my sister nonchalantly say this to me, after our ‘morning to remember’ and her new-found sexual honesty brings up the final result. I watch an erection grow in front of the guy in the mirror. Once again, I begin shivering.

“Oh really?” I nervously blurt out.

I assess the situation:I cannot remain in here until I relax – that won’t happen anytime soon. I consider masturbating surreptitiously while conversing with my sister – even if I managed that, it may not produce the speedy result I require. I hear the echoes of Lisa’s single-c***d opinion that ‘brothers and sisters should fool around and teach each other’. A scary but intense desire is building inside me. . . . . “She said that?” I pick the conversation up again in tremulant tones.

“She actually said the word fuck and. . . she told me you were good. . .. ”My sister is on a roll, talking dirty talk to someone in her family and getting away with it. “She asked me why I never told her how big your dick was,” she adds. “I asked her ‘How would I know?'” My mind struggles to create some order here. For some unfathomable reason, the nude guy in the mirror has begun to gently stroke himself as if it will improve his concentration. Within the carnival-ride of my inverted perception, the sensations are highly magnified.

“What else did she tell you?” I inquire, working for extra time, as if some hidden path back to my bedroom will show itself.

Sandy laughs then says “She told me she gave you a blow job”. She delivers this with her newly-realized adult tone – I can hear the smile on her face. I begin trembling more uncontrollably. My sister is being cute by using the dirty words and talking about sex; but her brother, who’s been boldly walking around the house nude this morning didn’t expect this. The arousal drives through me with tremendous power, the chills and the surreal perspective firing the erotic urges. This is what Lisa means and it’s now part of the situation.

“Did she tell you all the details?” I ask from the safety of the kitchen, purposely directing the conversation to coincide with my alert organ.

“Well, she figured that since you’re my brother I would know this stuff. I told her that we don’t really talk about sex and that I hadn’t seen you naked in years – well, until today. I guess I’ll have to tell her about you’re being naked this morning since you two have, you know. . . . fucked.” Sandy keeps her book in front of her face with no regard for the television programs that quietly chatter away before her. She is flaunting her sexuality as well, keeping her clothes on but using dirty talk in front of her brother. For her this is as bold a step. A bizarre urge wells up in me as I calmly stroke myself and shudder for an instant. Then I turn away from the mirror for my return to the living room.

Must Follow Erections

I understand the feeling of rough seas as head toward the sound of Sandy's voice, my erection leading the way. This is an other-worldly experiment. This is beyond sexual stimulation – I feel myself touching something deep inside that has never been given freedom. Somewhere in my subconscious out-of-pitch sirens ricochet from the walls sending my senses into a spin.

Sandy’s nose is buried again in her book. I inhale and begin: “Well you know Lisa really turns me on. We always have a great time.” I pause, then blurt out “She can really fuck.” I feel shivers through my entire being as the arousal surges to my hard-on when I intone the word of choice for the morning.

Sandy is facing away from me sitting cross-legged in the overstuffed chair. My temples beat along with my seemingly audible heart. The floor continues to randomly move as I walk. My spontaneous journey seems inspired from somewhere far away yet deep within me. As I arrive in the living room I warble “In fact, we just talked about her for a minute and look what happened.”

Haphazard timing proves perfect – I arrive beside her chair as Sandy turns toward me with a grin. I thrust my erection toward her, a hand’s length from her face and observe the instant of disbelief as she forgets the snappy remark that never happened, upstaged by a turgid penis. I am shaking involuntarily, muscles throughout my entire body barely obeying me. Sandy’s mouth is once again wide open in disbelief. Her reaction surpasses the kitchen scene – seeing my erection pointed in her face I realize this insane moment cannot be erased: every unspoken rule of morality has been broken.

Her mouth moves without words. Her eyes are as wide as her owl-eyed glasses. Sandy is completely astounded, frozen in the chair. My muscles steady somewhat as I become familiar with the sensations. And I begin to regain control over my body. My arousal is monumental – my erection seems to occupy the center of the room, almost visibly emanating energy.

My voice appears again. I matter-of-factly declare “This always happens when I think about Lisa.” The subject of my statement is obvious. Sandy does not move; her expression does not change. I struggle with my next step, my follow-up to the last statement. I suddenly realize that my sister could panic and even go to our parents. She nervously watches my erection, as if it can’t be trusted and I, of course, start talking.

“Well. . . she told you how big my penis is and you can see the difference from before. . . . when I wasn’t turned on.” If I can move this into a sex education session for Sandy things may work out. “All I have to do is think about sex. . . . . or talk about it and my penis gets hard. . . . . like this.” I look down at this off-kilter scene, standing nude in front of my sister, my erection pushed in her face. Cold fear continues mutating into spectacular arousal – my penis is incredibly hard and seems to have gotten bigger. My emotional turmoil contains a bizarre feeling of satisfaction.

Show and Tell Works Well

Sandy shifts herself in the chair. Without taking her eyes from the stiff, veined thing before her she calmly says “It is a lot bigger. ”

“Well. . . . yeah,” I say. “When you’re horny. . . it’s really good. I like having a hard-on. . . . . It’s great.” It seems basic sentences work best today. I shift my stance and my penis bounces. Sandy relaxes a bit and lays her hands atop the now-closed book in her lap. Wordlessly transfixed by my hard-on, we both stare at it for a very long moment. Without thinking, I casually caress my now-tight balls as she watches.

“Have you ever seen a real penis before?” I ask. “Maybe a guy at school?”

Sandy replies immediately, warding off her discomfort. “No… this is the first time.” She pauses. “Well. . . there's those books in your room.” She refers to my porn magazines which I believed to be carefully concealed beneath my bed.

“You’ve seen them?” I ask, stunned that my little sister would know about my special dirty secrets.

“Well. . . you look at them while you jerk off, don’t you?”The phrase carries a certain defensive posture with it. Her words send more electricity through my nerve tissues. Sandy does know more about my sexual function than she has admitted to and this whole experience is drawing out her courage while she struggles with this completely new situation. While my little sister having sexual ideas surprises me at first, I realize what it is we’re doing here.

I’ll pick up on her comment.

“Well. . . I do like to jerk off,” I tell her. The words send chilly spasms up my spine.

“I know… I always hear you when you’re doing it,” she declares. I sense the situation going well beyond any preconceived notion. “Lisa told me you do it when you talk to her on the phone,” she adds boldly as if she knows something else that she shouldn’t. “And I did hear you doing it with her on the phone Thursday night.”

She asked for it. “Well, she did ask me if I jerk off at night”, I explain, “and I told her I usually do. Then she told me it would be more fun if I did it while we talked and she could listen and play with herself.” This is driving me way over the edge. It seems the now-ubiquitous term jerk off causes the pit of my stomach to quiver and affect my scrotum. Sandy has a cautious grin now as she begins to participate in our morning adventure. She shifts her legs to a more relaxed but still crossed position.

To further fuel the fire I add “She told me she never saw a guy jerk off and that she wants me to do it while she watches.”

Sandy calmly replies “Maybe you should call her and tell her to come over right now…. you can jerk off here and let her watch.” I’m not sure if it’s a deliberate move on her part, but my sister has offered what seems to be an opportunity for a demonstration.

“Well,” I begin, “you don’t understand how much fun it is playing with my cock when I’m excited.” I move my cradled fingers from my testicles and take my erection in my hand, as if determining its overall mass. Sandy watches quietly, a transparent grin still on her face. I breathlessly begin my spectacular presentation. “It’s a lot of fun because it feels really good to touch it and play with it. The first thing I like to do is pump it.” I demonstrate by grasping the shaft and moving the skin forward and back gently. Sandy quietly watches. “This feels really great,” I tell her, stating the obvious. In a perhaps warped yet unique fashion, my sister and I are sharing special moments as she watches me solemnly stroke myself.

Amazingly, it doesn’t seem horribly deviant or wrong.

My energized arousal grows further – a single drop of liquid appears at the tip of my glans. “This happens when I’m really turned on,” I explain. With the index finger of my left hand I delicately paint the watery emission over my glans. “That feels really good because the head of my penis is very sensitive. ”Sandy observes me gently rub my now-glistening glans.

“You must like that,” she says calmly.

“Oh yeah, it’s great” I say, shuddering with the sensations that the action brings. My erection tenses. “It does that by itself and feels really fantastic. Around the edge here,” I indicate with my circling index finger, “it’s very sensitive.” I abandon the two handed technique and begin stroking the head along with the shaft in one motion. “I could do this all day,” I explain in a very complacent tone.

She asks “But. . . then you. . . . . ” she trails off – deliberately leading me to the next segment of my lecture?

“Oh. . . . I'll cum and shoot sperm out of my penis.” I explain things so nicely as I stand here fondling myself. “I can control it for a while if I take my time…. but if I stroke myself a little bit harder. . . I could cum right now.” That thought is overwhelming. It almost obliterates all reasoning – I actually have to fight the impulse to follow through at that very moment. “But the more I play with myself the better my orgasm feels. . . . ”

“And that’s when you cum?” she asks in a business-like manner.

I reply “Yeah. . . . ”

Sandy smiles broadly and interjects “Like that one guy in the magazine with the two girls.” I notice her relaxed demeanor and decide to continue the showcase.

Class Participation

“Did you notice how tight my balls are?” I ask. Sandy actually tilts her head to get a better look. I lift my hard-on out of the way and cup my left hand around them. She tilts her head the other way.

“That doesn’t hurt to move it like that?” she asks.

“No, not at all,” I tell her. The room begins swimming again as the next forbidden step comes to mind. Cradling my scrotum in my hand, I ignore the distant subconscious symphony of alarms and I carefully inhale and ask “Do you want to feel them?” Sandy squirms slightly. Neither of us can believe what’s happening this morning. And now I am offering my sister the opportunity to touch my testicles. She inhales, looking very unsettled, then stammers “Well. . . . uh, okay,” as if placating me.

The symphony warbles away beneath the layers of my mind setting off the cold twinges again as my sister reaches for my balls. She carefully cradles them in her hand and shudders ever so slightly. She has stepped beyond whatever expectations she had in the kitchen episode this morning. I finally exhale, then tell her “It’s okay. You don’t have to be so careful.” Sandy’s fingers delicately explore the hairy sack under my cock as she watches in fascination. I hold my hard-on up and out the way, my arousal and heart rate escalating beyond anything known to humans.

“Wow,” she says thoughtfully, “They’re not actually… balls. ” She gently probes their structure and observes her investigative actions. “They're. . . . more oval,” she says as if this is a class on testicles. Reality swims far away as I happily let my sister explore my scrotum.

We have stepped into that rarified zone of i****t where brothers and sisters give birth to babies with three heads and no brain. Yet, this is so non-threatening – my sister and I have always had a certain sibling intimacy and this seems to be another aspect of that. I watch her as she gently works her fingers around each of my testes.

To keep my fragile concentration I finally place my hand on hers as she stops fondling me. She releases my testicles as I release my erection. Turgid muscles force it back to its mandatory horizontal position. Sandy watches it bounce and stiffen in place. Out of tortured necessity, I stroke it and it tenses once again.

“It did that again – you must be really turned-on!” Sandy exclaims. Amazingly, my erection seems to have gotten even harder. I can barely remember having a flaccid penis compared to this highly charged version that I’m sporting now.

Well, playing with my balls worked very well. Before I change my mind, I decide to break all the rules. My heart quickens as that symphony of bells and buzzers chastises my sub-brain – my hormones are making it much easier to ignore them.

I don’t even hesitate before I blurt out “Do you want to touch my penis?”

Another moment is frozen in time. Did I finally pass the ultimate restriction between brothers and sisters?My life may be over as I gradually shudder into nothingness by way of this unthinkable request.

Sandy stops breathing and replies nervously “Well… ah… I’ll be Lisa. . . and you can. . . practice what you're going to do for her.” We may have arrived at the limit, the boundary that may not be crossed; but it seems she is giving me permission to do more.

“Okay, Sandy. . . . I am really turned on. . . and I'm going to jerk off. . . . . and you can watch, okay?” I begin to pump myself deliberately, pursuing an immediate conclusion to dissuade my cavalcade of emotions – the ongoing escalation of my arousal is beyond my tolerance. Sandy shifts quietly in her chair and watches as I stroke myself. After a moment, whether out of guilt or curiosity, Sandy gingerly reaches up and pets my glans. I slow my stroking and respond with a sigh.

“That feels good?” she asks.

“Oh. . . . yeah,” I breathe.

Without another word I release my erection – Sandy reaches out and carefully caresses the head once again, as she tests the reality of this whole scene. I watch her draw her fingertips around the head and feel the spectacular delight. She slides her fingers down the shaft slowly, finding its shape and feel. With bizarre brotherly delight, I am sharing in my sister’s first contact with a penis. Sandy imitates my motions now, grasping the shaft and carefully moving the skin forward and back. Her once-forbidden touch is immediately magnificent – my breathing stops for an instant and I feel my organ tense in her grasp.

“Oh,” she remarks as she continues working. I imagine a forbidden photograph of this scene: I stand nude, my erection pressed forward into my clothed teenaged sister’s face while she strokes it and observes my responses. For my own satisfaction, I decide she should work with her technique. “Stroke just the head,” I direct. Sandy slides her grasp up and works gently from tip to rim. She carefully rubs along the rim as I demonstrated earlier.

I gasp. The impending, and necessary, conclusion is beginning deep within me, yet I want to enjoy every possible moment of this. Sandy continues stroking and producing unbelievable results inside me. She methodically pumps me, gently pulling the skin along the shaft as a watery drop runs down the head. My insides are quaking and no longer in my control.

“You’re dripping some more,” she tells me. I lift the drop off with my index finger and put it in my mouth. Sandy observes through her owl-eyed glasses as she continues pumping. “Delicious” I say, grinning between my gasps. Another drop appears. Sandy stops stroking and, much to my surprise, copies my auto-erotic action, licking her finger cautiously. She pauses, then says “It doesn’t really taste like anything”. With that, I realize I am not going to be able to hold back any longer.

The Moment Arrives

I have barely been in control – now I can no longer contain myself. I announce with a gasp “Uh… Sandy… I'm going to cum!” and immediately cup my hand in front of my penis. She stops pumping, still grasping my penis, and watches as bursts of sperm fill my palm just inches away from her face. I gently take matters into my own hand and pump several more delightful spurts into the creamy puddle in my hand. My orgasm was unnerving – I have to consciously resume my breathing. Amidst my overwhelming arousal and the obvious destruction of social decency, I actually felt a sense of satisfaction that Sandy jerked me off. It still didn’t seem horrible or wrong.

As I regain my breath and my senses, a smile works across Sandy's face and she says “I. . . . actually jerked you off. . . . didn’t I? I mean. . . . I. . . jerked you off!” She looks at the quietly relaxing penis in my right hand and the puddle of sperm in my left. “Wow!”

“Yes. . . you did,” I reply almost breathing again. Along with Sandy I look at the milky puddle cupped in my hand. “I really didn’t know. . . what we would do. . . . I mean. . . . I was incredibly turned-on... and when you said 'I'll be Lisa' I figured I should jerk off and let you watch me do it. . . especially after all the explanations. . . and stuff. I didn't think you'd. . . . want to do it. . . . but you did. . . . . and it was really great!” My breathing is approaching normal.

Sandy is grinning, equal parts little sister and world-wise woman, and looking into my cupped hand and at my now calm penis. Considering we just squeezed a year’s worth of sex education into the morning, she’s pretty comfortable with the situation. “I’ll bet Lisa will be surprised – you know, she's been telling me to get you to do this. . . . she told me that brothers and sisters do mess around with each other and she couldn't believe we never did. She's been on my case about it.” She looks up to me and asks “Can I tell her about this. . . . . that we did all this. . . . and I got to jerk you off?” (I will certainly thank Lisa for her encouraging both of us in this escapade.)

“Yeah. . . . . she'll be happy – I'll have to keep my promise and jerk off for her after you tell her,” I respond, then add, “but don’t tell anyone else. ”

“No… of course not,” Sandy assures me, then she asks “Eh... are you going to put your clothes on now?”

Wow, this is a should I or shouldn't I situation. “I don't have to,” I tell her, taking a chance.

Sandy manages to stun me by with her follow-up: “Alright – just stay nude. In fact, from now on when Mom and Dad aren’t home, you can be nude.” Her little sister grin turns womanly as she adds “Maybe you can jerk off later. . . . . and I can watch.... and tell Lisa I saw you do it before she did.” She reaches out and playfully rubs her index finger over my glans then gets up with her coffee mug and heads into the kitchen.