From Virgin to Wife: My Experience and Emotional Journey of Spying on My Sister

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I. My
cousin, who is my first cousin, is my older cousin. I've always called her "sister."
She's a little over a year older than me. We've played together since we were little, seeing each other almost every day on weekends and during winter and summer vacations to play house. You could say we're childhood sweethearts. She was quite pretty as a child, taller than me, and had a cheerful personality. At least in my opinion, none of my classmates in kindergarten and elementary school were prettier than her. Given how much time we spent together, we were practically "intimate" to each other. As for what she thought, I don't know.
I was about six or seven years old then. One summer day, I went to her house to play, but the adults weren't home. We played together for a while, and she suggested going downstairs to play, but she wanted to take a bath beforehand, casually inviting me to bathe with her. I couldn't believe my ears; my heart immediately started pounding. We'd bathed together before, but then adults were there to help. Everyone knows that it's common for opposite-sex children of that age to bathe together, and adults don't usually think much of it. But this time was different; it was just the two of us bathing together, which made a huge difference. I bet everyone was curious about the opposite sex's body when they were little. Last time I took a bath, because the adults were there, I only dared to steal a few glances at my sister's body...
My mind went blank; all I wanted to do was take off my clothes and shower with her. We entered the bathroom together, the air thick with silence, perhaps even a hint of unspoken understanding? Had my sister become curious about my body after showering with me a few times? Was her comment just a casual remark or feigned nonchalance? Of course, I didn't dare ask; at my age, I couldn't possibly think that far ahead. We silently undressed completely.
The first thing I noticed was her breasts. They were very flat because they hadn't developed, and the nipples looked like they'd been randomly dotted on a piece of rice paper with a red pen. Just like mine, I thought to myself. I looked down, towards my sister's private parts, where there was only a thin slit, like it'd been cut with a paper cutter. My heart started racing. I glanced at my sister; her gaze was also on my lower body... Had she noticed? How long had I been staring at her private parts? Had my sister been staring at my penis all along? I looked down at my crotch and realized it was already erect, throbbing restlessly…
I didn't dare look up. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the sound of water. My sister turned on the shower, turned her back to me to rinse her head and body, then stepped out of the water's reach and applied shower gel with her back to me. I also looked away and rinsed myself in the water. Coincidentally, the water flow gradually decreased until there was no water coming out of the showerhead at all. "The water's stopped…" my sister said, a little flustered. "What do we do? I'm still covered in bubbles." I glanced again at her crotch; a small piece of foam slid down her skin with the water. She suggested that there was still water in the bucket outside on the balcony and asked me to go with her to fetch some.
She hurriedly ran out of the bathroom, and I followed behind, able to see her bouncing bottom as she ran. She scooped up a ladle of water, turned around, and ran back into the bathroom, glancing at me briefly before quickly passing by. I returned to the bathroom; my sister was rinsing the shower gel foam off with the water she had scooped up. I think she's beautiful, so beautiful…

II.
A few years later, I entered junior high school. Since that incident, I've never had the chance to shower with my sister again.
I often recall that summer afternoon, the way my sister stared at my genitals, and the most private slit on her body… After we both entered puberty, due to the awakening of sexual awareness and our respective studies, we seemed to be deliberately distancing ourselves from each other. Her grades were always excellent.
Besides my sister, I also have two younger cousins in elementary school. They often play together and like to bicker. One day, I went to my sister's house with them. My sister was in her final year of junior high and had to attend tutoring classes during the holidays, so she wasn't home. My two cousins were playing and joking around when they suddenly started talking about their experience of barging into the bathroom while my sister was showering. I immediately pulled them aside for questioning. It turned out that my sister was showering at home that day, and the bathroom door wasn't locked properly. My two cousins were chasing and playing, and the younger one pushed the older one down from behind, causing the older one to fall and knock open the bathroom door…
“My mouth almost touched xx sister’s (sister's name) genitals,” the older cousin said proudly. Seeing his smug look, I wanted nothing more than to grab him and beat him up.
"So...did you see what XX's private parts look like?" I couldn't help but ask. These two brats, I was bathing with my sister when you were still in diapers! I hadn't even seen my teenage sister's private parts, and you'd seen them first! I was seething with rage.
"There's a line," my cousins said in unison.
A line? That slit I'd been dreaming about. I continued, my heart pounding like that bath time:
"Does XX have any pubic hair down there?"
"Yes, it's black."
"A lot?"
"Not much, just a little bit above that line."
I felt the blood rushing to my head. My sixteen-year-old sister, just starting puberty, her pubic hair not even fully grown—was her tightly closed slit still the way I remembered it? My cousins quickly changed the subject, while I was already lost in my immoral fantasies, my crotch throbbing uncomfortably…
I pretended to be calm and continued to ask, “And then?”
“My sister XX cried out, ‘What are you doing?’ and we ran out.”
I imagined her blushing, covering her genitals, turning to scold them.
That night, I masturbated three times, more than I had ever done before. Starting the next day, I decided to spy on my sister myself. However, after she entered high school, she focused on her studies, and I rarely had the opportunity to interact with her. In the blink of an eye, I was in college.
III. Opportunity
When I was preparing to fill out my college application after the college entrance exam, my sister, who was already in college, came to my house to visit me.
This was completely unexpected. In my memory, my sister, like most high-achieving girls in school, deliberately avoided boys, and I felt that she had been deliberately avoiding me for the past few years as well. Before I could ask, she asked me if I had decided where to apply, and then explained which schools and majors were good to me.
I was surprised and touched at the same time. It seems my sister is still the same cheerful and capable person she always was, and she still cares about me and cares about me. Thinking back over the years, although we haven't seen each other often, she frequently asked our parents to bring me snacks. It turns out I've always been surrounded by her gentle love.
My desire to spy on her hasn't diminished at all; in fact, it's become even stronger. I know deep down that I can't repay her love in this way, but that's precisely what makes spying on her so exciting. I can't control myself.
The opportunity came during my freshman year winter break.
After my sister visited my home last time, we started contacting each other more frequently. With winter break approaching, we chatted about buying a new phone, and she also wanted to get a new one and wanted to go with me. We agreed to meet at a specialty store in the shopping mall.
The next day, I arrived at the agreed location early. My sister was ten minutes late. It was the dead of winter, and like every fashionable female college student, she wore a black velvet mini-skirt, her straight legs encased in thick, opaque stockings, and black leather boots covering her ankles. To be honest, this was exactly the kind of female protagonist outfit I liked to see on the forum. I didn't dare look too closely, just glanced at it quickly, chatting with my sister while slowly savoring it in my mind. Perhaps due to a lack of exercise at school, my sister's figure had become a little plump, especially her legs. They weren't the sickly thinness of a young girl; there was just the right amount of fat on her thighs, her calves were equally full, and her hips were round, yet overall she didn't look fat at all. She had passed puberty, fully developed, and become a qualified woman exuding alluring hormones.
We bought drinks and walked into the boutique while sipping them. In the past few years, I had grown a head taller than her, and when we walked together, she no longer had the sharp edge she used to tease me when we were kids; instead, she mostly enveloped me gently with her soft aura. I smelled her fragrance and lost myself in memories and thoughts several times.
We didn't linger long in the mobile phone store; we didn't find a phone we liked and didn't buy one. It was cold, and since it was a weekday, the shopping mall was sparsely populated. I accompanied my sister to several clothing stores; she bought a coat, so she didn't leave empty-handed. After paying, we headed towards the exit. As we passed the restrooms, my sister seemed to remember something and said,
"Wait here for me, I need to use the restroom."
The opportunity had finally arrived.
IV. Peeping
This was an indoor shopping mall, built by a conglomerate, luxuriously decorated. The restrooms were cubicles with squat toilets, spacious, brightly lit, and the fresh air system was constantly running; you could smell air freshener as soon as you entered.
I watched my sister go into the restroom; the four red characters "Women's Restroom" on the door frame stung my eyes. I hesitated for only two seconds before making up my mind. I couldn't care less; perhaps this was my only chance. The image of that private slit, like it had been cut with a box cutter, flashed through my mind again. This was my first time personally spying on a woman urinating, and I was about to give my first time to my loving older sister...
I glanced around; no one was around, and there were usually few people on a weekday morning. I listened to my sister's footsteps outside the door. She stepped onto the stall's steps, locked the door, and turned to undress. I quickly and quietly went inside, took out my phone, opened the camera, and leaned down, staring intently at the gap at the bottom of the door. My sister's boots were pointing directly at me. My blood seemed to rush to my head. She pulled her pantyhose and underwear down to her knees, slightly adjusted the distance between her legs, and then squatted down...
The first thing I saw was her full labia majora, swollen like plump, juicy fruit, adorned with short, dark hairs. Looking further in, I saw her labia minora and the clitoris hidden beneath the pubic hair. The labia minora were obediently tucked behind the labia majora, shyly closed. The dark hairs on the mons pubis were clearly visible. The lighting was excellent, and I secretly cheered. A moment later, a long "sizzle" was heard, and a thin, clear jet of water shot out powerfully, tracing an arc as it landed in the toilet bowl. Her previously tightly closed labia minora slowly opened. Small wisps of steam began to rise from the toilet bowl. I raised my phone and, with trembling fingers, pressed the red button to start recording. The sound of water hitting the toilet bowl filled the air. Her bare thighs appeared especially white against the backdrop of her calves encased in black pantyhose. Her underwear was a simple, pure white. The skin on her rounded buttocks was smooth, as if stretched taut. The water flow began to weaken, and a tuft of pubic hair became stained with urine, which began to trickle down the tuft until it stopped.
My sister was still a virgin.
I swallowed hard. My sister contracted her anus and vaginal opening, trying to squeeze out the last bit of urine from her bladder. These were the longest fifteen seconds I had ever experienced. If I could, I would have stretched those fifteen seconds indefinitely. However, a commotion nearby pulled me back to reality.
My focus on my sister's stall made me oblivious to my surroundings. I didn't even notice that someone else was in the other stall, already getting up and putting on their pants. I jumped up like a rabbit, stuffed my phone into my pocket, and rushed out of the bathroom without looking back. Looking back now, the other person hadn't flushed yet; I had plenty of time, no need to rush, and I might even have had a chance to watch my sister wipe her genitals. But there are no "what ifs."
I tried to act nonchalant as I waited for my sister to come out. She walked towards me, shaking her freshly washed hands.
"Why is your face so red?" she asked.
I said it was probably because the heating was too strong.
"Let's go," she said softly.
I have no idea how I got home. Only when I got home did I realize my penis was still erect. Had it been like this ever since I spied on her? Had my sister not noticed?
I copied the video to my computer, hid it deep in the hard drive, watched it once, and then closed it. I opened another folder of videos and, as usual, masturbated to other videos I'd collected.
That day, I ejaculated three more times. But the material wasn't the video of my sister that I filmed. Not even once. Perhaps this was my way of expressing guilt? I don't know.
Later, my sister graduated from university. Three years later, I learned that she was getting married.
V. Disappointment
. There are only two kinds of voyeurism: zero times or countless times. Once you've voyeurized, you become addicted, like being possessed. After this experience, I started testing the waters in university teaching buildings and libraries. During this time, I realized my sexual fetish: stockings or pantyhose paired with short skirts, plus leather boots, canvas shoes, or white casual shoes—this was my sister's common attire. I wasn't interested in high heels, but fortunately, few students on campus wore them. I first filmed a few classmates, and gradually became bolder, targeting unfamiliar girls in the library, innocent girls I met in the cafeteria, and upperclassmen and underclassmen I met in clubs. Some people appeared innocent, but their genitals had been used in various ways. Some people often wore skirts and stockings, but their private parts were quite clean. I couldn't collect the private parts of all the girls in my class, but the limited collection I did have gave me a thorough understanding of the menstrual cycles and sexual development of many of them. In my spare time, I'd calculate which classmate was ovulating that day, then watch her videos, look at her selfies on social media, and start masturbating, fantasizing about impregnating her. Some girls had boyfriends, and I spied on them three times; each time, their vulvas were larger than the last…
My sister's videos are still quietly lying deep in my hard drive.
In my junior year, with a mix of nervousness and excitement, I casually asked her if she had a boyfriend. A year after graduation, she gave a negative answer. But only two years later, she brought her boyfriend home. He was older than her, about my height, decent-looking, and had a sweet tongue—the kind of guy parents would easily like.
They got their marriage certificate and held their wedding a few months later. On the wedding day, I also went with my sister to his house for the night; it was a small villa. My sister smiled sweetly during the ceremony.
That evening, the guests left, and the mansion returned to its quiet state. My sister and I stayed on the same floor; I slept in the small room at the far end of the corridor, and they slept in the first room. That night, I couldn't help but imagine what they would be doing in that room. Had my sister kept her virginity until tonight? Had they done it before? What positions would they use? Would the man hurt my sister? I pictured my sister's tightly closed labia and a small tuft of cute pubic hair wet with urine, and my hands clenched into fists. My sister was probably being pressed down by someone right now, her snow-white, plump thighs raised high, being vigorously penetrated. Or perhaps my sister was riding on top of someone, gently guiding a penis into her honeyed hole with her slender hands, letting the glans rub against her deepest point until it reached its peak…
I got up to urinate and stopped in front of my sister's room. There was no sound from inside, but I felt no relief. I thought about pressing my ear to the door to eavesdrop, but in the end, I didn't. I quietly went downstairs, entered the bathroom, and closed the door. Bitter tears streamed into my mouth…
Two months later, I received the news that my sister was pregnant.
VI.
That night in the small villa, my attitude towards my sister changed. It seemed as if a beast within me had awakened. I wanted to watch that fifteen-second video, desperately. I wanted to watch it while masturbating, ejaculating hot white semen with that crisp "sizzle" sound from the video, and then continue masturbating until I couldn't ejaculate anymore…
That night, I went straight to the entrance after leaving the bathroom and picked up a pair of new leather boots. My sister had bought them specially for this day, and today was the first time I wore them; I had walked a long way. I covered one of them with my mouth and nose and took a deep breath. At first, there was only the smell of leather, but then a faint smell of foot sweat soaking through socks began to appear, somewhat like the salty sea breeze. I greedily inhaled the air from inside my sister's boots, my hand trembling wildly in my crotch, and soon I ejaculated… I picked up the other boot and smeared the semen from my hand onto the insole and the toe area. A gust of wind blew, and the cold, semen-soaked trousers clung to my limp penis…
This was defilement; I had defiled my sister's possessions. Thinking of this, I no longer felt the guilt I used to feel; instead, I felt a strong sense of pleasure.
Two months later, I received news that my sister was pregnant. I closed the bedroom door, double-clicked the fifteen-second video that was no longer "inviolable," started looping it, stared at my sister's tender vulva from her virginity, and gripped my penis tightly, stroking it. That man successfully implanted his seed inside my sister so quickly; how many times a day did they do it? Was the man's sex drive too strong, or was my sister's need too intense? Sister, I want to drink your urine, I want to lick your anus. Don't wipe after you pee; let your little brother lick your vulva clean. Sister, was that man's penis big? When you first saw a fully erect penis of an adult male, were you surprised? Did you always think that a man's penis was like the little penis you saw when you were a child, just a thin, short dot? Sister, my penis is now just as big as that man's, look at it...
My sister carefully preserved her virginity for over twenty years, only to have it taken away. Her womb, never violated, is now finally harboring an embryo. I knew this day would come sooner or later, but when it actually happened, I still couldn't accept it. I vented my frustration and disappointment, losing count of how many times I ejaculated. Finally, exhausted, I collapsed in front of the computer and fell asleep... The sound of my sister's urine hitting the toilet bowl, and that long "sizzle—," was still playing on repeat in my headphones.
A few months later, my sister gave birth to a baby boy naturally. I calculated the time; my sister was already pregnant before the wedding at the villa. Conservatively speaking, she started having unprotected sex after registering their marriage.
However, at this moment, I felt nothing, only thinking about spying on my sister using the toilet again, as if taking revenge in this way. As for whether the target of my revenge was that man, my sister, or both of them, I couldn't answer that question no matter what.
VII.
One Friday in late autumn, I went to my sister's company. The night before, I made up an excuse to tell my sister I'd have lunch at her company cafeteria today, and then we'd go home for dinner together after she finished work.
Today, my sister was wearing a white dress, and like the other day, she was wearing opaque black pantyhose. At work, my sister is just as capable and has high emotional intelligence; she was promoted to deputy department head after only two years. However, with a high position comes a lot of work, and I saw her busy at the company, seemingly with endless phone calls. She's changed over the years. Perhaps the busy work and raising children have exhausted her, and the daily grind has worn away her vitality. She's changed; she's no longer the same person she was when we went shopping together that winter, no longer the person who suddenly came to my house to ask if I'd decided on my college application. Her skin has become dull, and her natural fragrance has gradually disappeared. After having children, do women all stop caring about their appearance? How is my sister's sex life? How often does it happen? Can that man always satisfy her? Thinking about these things, my mood plummeted again.
My sister's footsteps interrupted my thoughts. I looked up and saw her brow furrow slightly as she quickly walked towards the restroom…
Nothing else mattered anymore. I composed myself and followed.
I'd scouted this company restroom countless times. It wasn't large, with two rows of stalls facing each other, two stalls per row. There was a window on the south side, providing good lighting. The stall furthest from the window had a long-standing drainage problem and was unused. The gaps between the stall partitions were huge; you could easily catch a glimpse of her private parts if you just bent down. However, the safest place was to hide in the opposite stall and spy on her peacefully—it was practically a treasure trove. Just like last time, I heard her lock the door and undress outside. Seeing that no one was around, I silently counted to three, entered the women's restroom to confirm her location, went into the stall opposite her, locked the door, and knelt down to peer over. She was already squatting.
Compared to last time, she wasn't squatting as deeply, perhaps because the extra fat accumulated in her lower abdomen during pregnancy was hindering her. Even so, her genitals were still completely exposed to my greedy gaze. I gasped in shock, almost making a sound: my sister's once long, dark pubic hair had been completely shaved off, leaving only stubble just sprouting from her skin, scattered across her perineum and labia majora, making her look like a scruffy old man's chin. Her labia majora were still thick and full, but her labia minora had changed drastically: the previously tightly closed labia minora, as if forcibly pulled outwards, no longer retracted within the labia majora, but drooping listlessly to one side, like withered vegetables, dry and wrinkled. What surprised me most was my sister's clitoris. The last time I spied on her, it was covered by dark hair, but now it stood proudly erect, as if defying me…
Undoubtedly, the clitoris must have undergone years of pressure and rubbing, a long-term habit of arousal, and the corpora cavernosa within it must have received intense training to remain so erect even without stimulation. That man must have been very skilled in sex, using a variety of techniques. He actually managed to convince my sister to shave... I imagined my sister in bed, letting that man do as he pleased, imagining her uneasy, clueless eyes about sex, imagining her moaning as he rubbed her clitoris, imagining her shouting out the lewd words that man had taught her—words she had never even considered before...
My sister had become that man's sex toy.
Her once virgin vagina had been fucked day and night by that man, turning into a rotten cunt.
"Pfft..." A fart sounded, followed by several more. My sister was farting. She seemed to have held back many farts, not daring to let them out in the office. A stream of water split into two, slowly flowing down from below her erect clitoris. The urine was yellowish, and the flow was weak, flowing down her drooping labia minora onto her round buttocks, finally dripping into the toilet. Her vaginal opening opened naturally, the pink flesh clearly visible. Before the yellowish urine had even finished flowing, my sister's anus began to dilate, and a pool of pasty, watery stool mixed with gas poured out...
The stench of her loose stool filled the bathroom. Compared to a few years ago, there was a dark red swelling outside her anus, probably hemorrhoids from her pregnancy. My sister kept contracting her anus, squeezing out another piece of brown stool the size of a broad bean, which stuck around her anus. Urine was still flowing intermittently from below her erect clitoris.
Needless to say, I had recorded my sister's ravaged cunt after losing her virginity and childbirth, her ugly state of excrement and urine, all on my phone. I calmly recorded it; to be honest, I've seen cunts even worse than my sister's now. If the woman in the video were someone else, I would just treat this video as an ordinary piece of work.
My sister took out a pack of tissues, pulled one out, wiped her anus, folded the tissue in half, and wiped again. Then I pulled out another tissue, used my pinky to wipe my ravaged vulva, threw the tissue into the trash can, stood up, pulled up my pantyhose and underwear, rinsed myself off, tidied myself up a bit, and opened the door to leave the stall. I stopped recording, opened the video I had just recorded, glanced at the video length, and then closed it. 4 minutes and 23 seconds.
I crawled into the stall my sister had just used; the smell of feces hadn't dissipated. I picked up my sister's wiping tissue from the trash can, unfolded it to examine the wrinkles and urine stains, and sniffed it. A very strong stench. I stuffed the tissue into my pocket and left the bathroom.
That evening, I ate dinner at my sister's house. I sat opposite her, secretly checking my phone under the table to see what I had learned that day. "Hey, xx," I called my sister's name, "drink more water in the office, okay?"
My sister hummed in agreement.
"Also, eat less takeout; it's not clean, and eating too much will give you diarrhea."
My sister glanced at me, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes, but only for a moment.
"Oh, okay," she replied. We continued eating, without exchanging another word.
Back home, I forced back my throbbing erection, imported the video to my computer, and opened it. Then I played the fifteen-second video of my sister urinating during her virginity, a video I'd masturbated to countless times. I played both videos simultaneously, while also opening a selfie of my sister saved on my phone. I stripped naked and began masturbating frantically. Each time I ejaculated, a low, angry growl escaped my throat—a growl of rage, yet also of utter helplessness. My penis was already limp, the numb glans unable to respond to my hand's movements. But my hand didn't stop. In my eyes were my sister's sweet smile in the photo, her snow-white thighs and long, glossy black pubic hair, her dry labia minora and protruding hemorrhoids. In my ears were the powerful "sizzle" of my sister urinating, the sounds of her several farts, and the sound of her footsteps as she walked towards me in her black leather boots. That breathtakingly beautiful virgin vagina, and that ravaged, heartbreakingly deformed cunt. The urine on the toilet paper my sister used to wipe her vagina had long since dried. I stuffed the paper into my mouth and chewed it, squeezing out the remaining nectar like eating sugarcane. My room reeked of semen, and the tissue box was empty. I felt dizzy and finally collapsed to the floor…

Since that day, I haven't taken a picture of my sister again. That summer in elementary school, that winter break in my freshman year of college—they've all been turned over in my sister's and my lives. My sister is now a wife, a young woman, a mother, and perhaps soon she'll have another child. The only thing I want to do is protect her. Although, occasionally I still dream of my sister, now in college, shopping with me, and I wake up with a wistful sigh…

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