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Archive name: pippa.txt (Fm, inc, mast, ped)
Authors name: Sadie (Address withheld by request)
Story title : Sister Pippa

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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002.  Please
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Sister Pippa (Fm, inc, mast, ped)
by Sadie (Address withheld by request)

***

A teenage boy injures himself and is nursed by his older 
sister.

***

When I was born, my sister Pippa (her real name was 
Philippa) was eight years old. Our mother divorced when 
I was two, and she had to work two jobs to make ends 
meet. Every day Pippa had to come back from school 
directly and "take over" from the baby sitter. She 
virtually became my second mother, when mom was at 
work. Pippa fed and bathed me and changed my diapers.

Years later, as adults, she admitted, that although it 
was a bit of a chore sometimes, she loved having her 
own "baby" to play with, while all her friends had to 
make do with dolls. 

As we grew up, she continued to be a kind of second 
mother, making snacks for me, checking to see that I 
was ready for school, bathing me and putting me to bed 
to help mom out. we were actually a very happy and 
functional family, despite the absence of a father.

Bath times were always fun. Sometimes I'd be given a 
bath, sometimes just a shower, with a hand shower. 
Pippa would take a sponge, soap it up and scrub me all 
over, which usually caused peals of laughter from, 
because it tickled. Then she'd turn into a playful 
"cop".

"OK James," she'd put on her best mock cop voice, 
"spread 'em and assume the position." Normally she 
called me Jamie. We would laugh our heads off. She 
would take the sponge and gently wash my anus and with 
her hands my balls and cock. I of course thought 
nothing of this because she had been doing it since I 
was a baby. At about the age of eight or nine, I began 
getting a little erection during this part of the 
shower ritual, and I think she must have realized that 
perhaps I was getting a bit old to be given a bath or 
shower. In any case, soon after this she stopped and I 
had to shower or bath myself. 

But I never developed a sense of self-consciousness 
around Pippa (or my mom), even when she would need 
something from the bathroom while I was using the 
shower.

Pippa graduated and went to nursing school. She still 
lived at home, because the school was in our city. She 
began dating, and sometimes would bring a young man 
home for dinner. She never got serious with any of her 
men friends though, but in retrospect I am sure she had 
some kind of sex life during those years. 

I was an early bloomer. By thirteen, I was 5'6", the 
biggest kid in my class, and had not yet developed a 
sense of fear. The exact circumstances of my accident 
are now a bit hazy, but the gist of it is: riding my 
bike home from school one day, I decided to show off to 
some of the girls from the neighborhood. 

"Look," I yelled, "No hands!" 

The next moment, my bike hit the curb, and I was thrown 
to the ground. A stabbing pain shot through my left 
arm. 

The pain was intense, and I really couldn't think 
straight. I have recollections of being helped into an 
ambulance, and arriving at the hospital, but my next 
clear memory was mom and Pippa helping me into the 
house, my broken left arm in plaster and a sling.

It turned out that I had also sprained my right pinkie 
in the accident, so with that all bandaged up too, I 
was in a pretty helpless state. I now discovered how 
difficult it was to do anything. At least I could still 
feed myself with my right hand, but going to the 
bathroom became a bit tricky. After some trial and 
error, I worked out how to clean myself. I thought 
"Thank god I don't have to ask mom or Pippa to wipe 
me!" But shower time became a problem.

"Pippa," I yelled from the bathroom. 

"Yes," she replied from downstairs. "What's the matter, 
Jamie?" 

"I need your help. I'm sorry." 

She came into the bathroom, and saw me standing in the 
shower stall, unable to do anything. She burst out 
laughing, but quickly stopped herself. 

"I'm sorry," she giggled, "you look so helpless, all 
bandaged up. Come on, young man," she said in her nurse 
voice. "Let's get you all cleaned up then."

Soaping up the sponge, she began to scrub me down like 
she did when I was younger. The only thing is that at 
13, I wasn't a kid anymore physically. She had seen me 
naked before so she couldn't have been surprised by my 
now very well-developed cock, which despite the 
tickling she was giving me as she washed me, was 
rapidly rising. I felt quite embarrassed and turned 
away from her. 

"0h, I see we're assuming the position." There was a 
chuckle in her voice. "OK buster," Pippa said in her 
best mock cop accent." Spread 'em." 

I felt the sponge gently washing my anus, and her hand 
slipped between my legs as she soaped my balls and 
cock. I did not know what to do, or say, because it was 
clear that I now had a raging erection, which she was 
stroking as, she washed me. She seemed to be completely 
oblivious to this, and I guess as she had seen it 
before when I was younger, and probably hundreds of 
times as a nurse giving sponge baths to patients. In 
any case, she didn't think that it was particularly out 
of the ordinary. After spraying me down with the hand 
shower, she handed me a towel. 

"Pippa," I said. "How do you expect me to use that?" 

We laughed, and she dried me off, once again apparently 
unconcerned by my wildly tumescent cock, which was at 
the age of 13, almost touching my belly button. Suffice 
it to say, but I went to bed that night, not only with 
the intense pain of my broken arm and little finger, 
but now also with a serious case of blue balls, which I 
had no way of relieving. 

The next few days, I was kept home from school. Pippa, 
who was on vacation from college, conveniently I 
thought, ministered to me, her poor injured brother. 
Shower times became like they had been five years 
before, tickling and laughter. After the first time, I 
lost my embarrassment over the fact that I had a 
constant erection. As usual, Pippa seemed not to 
notice. But I began to get that ache in the balls each 
time, as she was washing me.

On the third day it was really bad.

"Ow," I moaned as her hands soaped my genitals. 

"What is it? Did I hurt you?" she asked. 

"I don't know what it is," I groaned." I have this pain 
down there. I don't know why." 

"How long have you had it?" Pippa asked. 

"It's every time I've had a shower." 

"Turn around. Let me have a look," she said. I turned 
around to face her. 

"Come on. Lets me dry you off and see what the problem 
is." 

She sat on a little bathroom stool , and looked closely 
at my cock and balls. Holding my rigid cock in the one 
hand, she gently cupped my balls in the other.

"Oh, oh, oh," I groaned. It was a mixture of the pain 
and pleasure. 

"Did that hurt?" she asked. 

"Yes, er no, I'm not sure." I was confused. I was in 
pain, but her touching my a cock and balls was 
wonderful. 

She sat back on the stool and smiled the kind of a 
knowing smile. 

"I know what the matter is," she said." Trouble is, you 
have a bad case of..." and she mouthed the words 'blue 
balls'. "My little baby brother is all 'growed up.'" 
She deliberately mispronounced the word. 

"Hang on a second," she added. 

Pippa reached into the to medicine closet, and took out 
a bottle of baby oil. 

"Why is it hurting so bad?" I asked. 

"They're completely engorged, you poor thing."

"Shhh...." she ordered in her clipped mock-nurse's 
manner.

Pouring some baby oil into her hand, she grasped my 
cock and gently began to stroke up and down. 

"Wait," she said. "Come over to the shower stall."

Facing into the shower stall she stroked my cock with a 
slow and light pressure. My legs felt weak. It was only 
a matter of seconds before I lost it. A huge jet of cum 
leapt from my cock, splattering on the shower wall. A 
split-second later another spurt, and then another hit 
the wall. Four, five, six, there seemed to be no end. I 
felt my legs buckling, but of Pippa put her arm around 
me to support me. Finally I stopped ejaculating, even 
though the spasms continued for about half a minute. 

"My gosh," Pippa said. "You really need it that, didn't 
you?"

I slept like a baby that night. The next morning, at 
breakfast, when Mom had gone to work, I got a little 
sex-ed. lecture from my nurse sister, as to why I had 
had pain the previous few days, and how the orgasm and 
ejaculation had relieved the pressure. She used all the 
correct medical expressions such as 'semen'', 'penis' 
etc. What amazes me now, 20 years later, was that for 
her there was apparently nothing sexual about what she 
had done. For her, she was just being a nurse. For me, 
my sister had just given me a shower, like she always 
used to. 

The next day, once again, I stood in the shower stall 
with my raging cock. My embarrassment was completely 
gone by now, and as she soaped my genitals once again, 
she asked, "Are you still having the pain?"

"Not any more," I replied.

Then without the slightest embarrassment she asked, 
"Jamie, do you sometimes masturbate, I mean did you," 
she smiled glancing at my sling, "before your bike 
crash?" 

I could feel myself blushing. But she continued.

"Hey listen. I'm talking about completely normal stuff 
here. Most boys of your age do. And see what happens if 
you don't do it for a few days. It's a pain in the, 
er...." She was going to say "balls", but checked 
herself and said, "testicles." 

I laughed, half out of embarrassment. And she began to 
giggle too.

After drying me off, she reached for the baby oil 
again, and reverted to her no nonsense nurse voice. 
"Sit on the commode," she said.

I closed the lid of the toilet, and sat. My cock was 
sticking up rigid, the tip reaching my navel. As she 
covered it with oil Pippa said "Actually Jamie you have 
a very large penis for a 13 year old." Her tone was 
completely matter-of-fact.

"Really." I didn't know if this was a good or a bad 
thing, and I was too embarrassed to ask.

She knelt in front of me and slightly spread my legs. 
Her right hand started rhythmically pumping my cock, 
while her left hand slid under my balls, and with one 
finger started massaging my anus.

"Now don't be scared," she said. "This is just going to 
make you have a bigger orgasm. I want you to try and 
hold back as long as possible, so that when you do 
ejaculate, you get as much semen out as possible." 

Her finger on my anus made me feel very open and 
vulnerable. The previous day, things had been over in 
about ten seconds. This time I probably held out for 
closer to thirty. The first rope of cum shot about 
three feet straight up into the air, splattering down 
onto my legs and the commode seat. The second and third 
were almost as high. She kept gently pumping till I was 
dry. 

"Oh my god!" I groaned.

"Are you alright, Jamie," she asked looking up at me.

I could only nod between gasps, as the spasms subsided.

"Hey, that was pretty good, Jamie. We got a lot out of 
you that time," she said. "But what a mess!". She took 
a wet washcloth, and cleaned the cum off my legs, her 
arms and hand, and the commode seat. "We're going to 
have to find a better way to do this."

I went back to school the following morning, and of 
course had a lot of work to catch up on. My left arm 
was still in a cast, which I had to keep dry, so sister 
Philippa had to be the shower helper every day. 

I was leaning forward against the shower stall wall, 
while she washed my back. As she was soaping my butt 
and legs she said "Today I want to clean you inside 
too."

"What do you mean," I asked.

"You'll see. I won't hurt you."

She sponged my anus and then I felt her finger 
massaging slowly around the rim, like she had done the 
past few days when she was masturbating me.

"What are you doing?" I asked a bit nervously.

"I'm going to clean the lower part of your rectum."

"Will it hurt?"

"No," Pippa answered. "I'll be very careful and gentle, 
and I'll use plenty of soap. But you must try and 
relax."

It was the strangest feeling, as her soap-covered 
finger slowly pushed past my sphincter. I felt 
helpless, but the sensation of her finger sliding in 
and out was incredibly exciting. I looked down to see 
my cock, which had been hard as a rock all this time, 
becoming a darker shade of crimson.

"Pippa...." I began.

"What? Am I hurting you? Try to relax,:" she said.

"No, no, you're not hurting me," I said, "but look at 
the color of my.... my.... (I didn't want to use the 
word 'cock' in front of her) er.... thingy."

She looked around me, and saw my now raging erection, 
with the engorged head quite purple. 

"Don't worry, that's normal. It'll get back its normal 
color."

With that she took the now huge cock in her other soapy 
hand. As the finger gently slipped in and out of my 
anus, brushing the prostate with each pass, she slowly 
massaged my cock up and down. This time she did 
everything very slowly.

"I'm going to try to make you have a very big 
ejaculation this time," she said.

I had to steady myself against the wall, as she slid 
her soapy hand up and down the hot, throbbing shaft. 
The finger in my rectum seemed to be on fire. She 
continued to talk me through the process.

"That's good. Let it build up slowly Jamie. See if you 
can give me a really big amount of semen this time. 
Feels good, huh? Tell me when you're getting close, 
Jamie."

About a minute later the floodgates broke. 

"Now, now," I gasped. It was nothing like I had ever 
experienced. I watched as my cock erupted with shot 
after shot of hot ropey cum. And the spurts kept 
coming. I had no idea that I had all that stuff in me. 
Her soap-covered hand continued jerking me, as she 
withdrew her finger from my anus, and cupped my balls. 

How I managed not to collapse, I don't know.

Pippa smiled up at me. "How do you feel," she asked.

"F...fine." I whispered. 

Next day, I had the bandages removed from my right 
hand, and although my left arm was still in a sling, I 
could now do just about everything without help. Seeing 
as I could now shower myself, I didn't call for Pippa 
to help me.

It never dawned on me that she might have been quite 
willing to keep functioning as my permanent massage 
girl and shower assistant, had I just asked her. But at 
thirteen, it just never occurred to me.

Dumb kid!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. 

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