Seduced by My Sister’s Best Friend

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INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER – Growing up in Perth, Western Australia Jeff always had a secret crush on his older sister’s best friend, a beautiful and tall blonde named Gabrielle. On a rather dull evening at one of Perth’s nightclubs early in 1986, 18-year-old virgin Jeff has a chance meeting with the older and more experienced Gabrielle, and it turns into the best night of his life.

All characters are aged 18 or older and are fictional, with similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional. Please note for North American readers unfamiliar with Australian sexual slang, the term fanny is used for vagina on several occasions. Please enjoy ‘Seduced By My Sister’s Best Friend’, and rate and comment.


When I turned 18 early in 1986 one of the things I was most excited about was that I could now go out and enjoy Perth’s pubs and clubs and drink legally, but this particular Friday evening I was wondering what the fuss was all about.

I sat at a table in the smoke-filled nightclub sipping at a small glass of beer that was bitter and stale, and was not enjoying the music which seemed to be just that one decibel too loud. Despite it being very early in the night, my friends had met a couple of girls and long since split for a pub up the road, but had I gone with them I would have felt like the spare wheel, so stayed back at this club hoping that something exciting or interesting might happen. This appeared unlikely, until I heard a young female voice behind me, struggling to make herself heard over the music. “Hello Jeff.”

I turned and saw the six feet tall and very pretty blonde aged in her early 20s walking my way. I would have been excited enough had she been a stranger given how attractive she was, but this girl was no stranger. She was my older sister Jenny’s best friend Gabrielle.

My heart pounded in my chest and my adrenaline surged through my body as Gabrielle, dressed in a pink tee-shirt, blue stone-washed denim skirt and matching jacket and white flat heeled shoes, her long blonde and lightly permed hair tied back in a pony-tail with a pink scrunchie approached me, her smile making her even prettier.

“Hi Gabrielle,” I managed to say, hoping I didn’t sound like some star-struck teenager meeting a pretty and famous female celebrity. Obviously Gabrielle wasn’t a celebrity, but there was the chance she might be in the future. Gabrielle had recently finished a journalism degree at university and was working for a Western Australian media outlet as a researcher. However, given Gabrielle’s talent, nice speaking voice and her good looks it was obvious that she would be in front of a camera rather than behind it sooner than later. It all sounded a lot more interesting than my life in which I studied commerce at university and worked at a supermarket part time, where old ladies complained to me about how they disliked the sound of these new machines that scanned their groceries, that it was better before when checkout operators keyed the prices into the tills manually.

“You don’t mind if I join you?” Gabrielle asked.

“No, not at all,” I said, indicating for Gabrielle to take a seat.

My simple statement was possibly the biggest understatement of 1986 to date. I had encountered Gabrielle with her friends, my sister included, at pubs or clubs in Perth or Fremantle on a couple of occasions on Friday or Saturday nights, and whenever Gabrielle appeared to me it was like the best thing that had happened in the history of the world. Not that this was a new thing. For the longest time, I had had a massive crush on my older sister’s best friend.

Gabrielle had been part of my life for as long as I could remember, she would cycle over to our house to spend time with Jenny and their other friends too, and I would always count down the minutes until she arrived and get that warm fuzzy feeling when she finally appeared. Jenny and Gabrielle played netball together and we would go and watch their games, and sometimes our families would go out for the day together, much to my pleasure. Other times we would go to Gabrielle’s parents’ house which I also liked. Gabrielle had a younger brother Richard a year older than me and whom I became friends with, and he was an absolute wizard with computers. He could do the most amazing things with a Commodore 64 computer I had no idea it could do, and was even designing his own Atari video game, the plans for which I found unintelligible but amazing. Of course, my favorite holiday experience as a child was when we all went camping with Gabrielle’s family in Western Australia’s South West when I was 9 and Gabrielle 13. I never wanted that week to end.

Being 4 years younger I had always worried that Gabrielle would think I was just some stupid kid, but she was always nice to me. I always had nightmares about Gabrielle finding out I had a crush on her and being embarrassed, or other people finding out about it and teasing me or her. But if anybody had noticed anything they hadn’t said so, and perhaps casino oyna I was good at hiding my emotions.

One thing I had done as a kid was write these really dumb stories in an exercise book about Gabrielle, often about me saving her from some situation. Some were realistic, such as one I wrote after a day trip to Rottnest Island where we had spent the day riding bicycles and meeting the quokkas. In the story Gabrielle had been caught in a rip and swept out to sea, and I had been the one to swim out and save her. This hadn’t of course happened in real life but could have in theory, unlike another story I wrote where a UFO had attempted to abduct Gabrielle, and it was hero Jeff to the rescue. In another story I wrote about Gabrielle we were grown-ups and we got married. I reminded myself that I should have been writing stories about Star Wars or something similar, but was only really interested in writing about my older sister’s pretty best friend so continued writing these stories and others like them. Of course, I kept the exercise book very well hidden, never to be read by anyone else.

Now the object of my affections sat opposite me, bringing with her a glass of water from which she took a sip. I reprimanded myself for looking at Gabrielle’s chest, where her large breasts filled out the pink fabric of her tee-shirt, and tried to look somewhere else, but not stare at her pretty face. In the end I was able to concentrate on Gabrielle’s earrings, noting that they were the same shade of pink as both her tee-shirt and her hair scrunchie.

“How are things tonight, Jeff? Are you having fun?” Gabrielle asked, again trying to make her voice audible over the music.

“Pretty good I guess.” Like Gabrielle, I had to talk as loudly as possible without actually shouting.

Gabrielle smiled. “You look like you’re having as much fun as if you were in church or in a statistics lecture.”

I laughed. “That obvious?”

“Yeah, I mean you’ve hardly touched your beer.”

“It’s pretty flat, doesn’t taste too good.” I watched Gabrielle take a sip of her drink. “So what are you drinking?”

“A cocktail,” said Gabrielle. “Two parts hydrogen to one part oxygen. That’s one of the reasons I’m finding this evening a bit boring.”

“Would you like something more interesting?” I suggested, looking at the crowded bar.

Gabrielle shook her head. “No thanks. I can’t actually drink at the moment, I had a bit of a chest infection after a cold two weeks ago, and I’m just finishing a course of antibiotics. Mixing booze and antibiotics is never a good idea.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” I said.

“Well, you couldn’t have,” said Gabrielle. She finished her water. “Do you want to get out of here? How about we go for a drive? I brought my car, to stop me being tempted to drink tonight.”

Given the suggestion was made by the young woman I had a massive crush on, Gabrielle’s suggestion was to me like she had suggested that we spend a week at a luxury resort, rather than a simple drive through the Western Australian capital at night. “Really? Are you sure?” As soon as I had said it, I cursed myself for sounding too over-excited, but if Gabrielle picked up on it, she didn’t say anything.

“Of course I’m sure, I think we’ll be getting lung cancer if we stay here any longer, even though we don’t smoke.” Gabrielle waved her hand in front of herself to clear a smoke cloud.

Gabrielle put her bag over her shoulder and got up from her seat, me following her out of the nightclub, where quite a line was forming to gain entrance. “They’re in for a boring night,” said Gabrielle as we walked towards the multi-story car park where she had parked her car.

Perth had enjoyed a fine and sunny autumn morning, but towards lunchtime it had clouded over, and by evening the atmosphere was humid and completely overcast. Now large drops of rain were falling, not enough that we would need an umbrella or raincoats, but they fell fairly consistently. On the way to the car Gabrielle walked slightly ahead of me, and I had to remind myself not to stare at her cute bum accentuated by her short denim skirt, or at her perfect long legs.

Arriving at the car park we climbed into Gabrielle’s car — a small blue hatchback — and she reversed out of her parking spot and drove out into the damp autumn evening. “So would you like to go up to Kings Park?” Gabrielle suggested. “The city and Swan River always look so nice lit up at night.”

“Sure, it sounds great,” I said.

“Kings Park it is then,” said Gabrielle, driving to St. Georges Terrace and then up the hill towards the park. Turning into Kings Park’s main entrance past the tall gum trees that lined the avenue, Gabrielle pulled her car to a halt in a vacant spot and we got out, walking across the lawn near the war memorial, the large drops of rain still falling.

“You can see why John Glenn called Perth the City of Lights when he flew over back in 1962,” observed Gabrielle.

“It is very beautiful,” I agreed, although I canlı casino thought the most beautiful thing was actually the tall and pretty blonde who stood next to me.

Gabrielle and I stood looking over at the Perth city skyline, the tall buildings lit up, and a myriad of lights illuminating Perth’s southern suburbs. The recently completed casino complex was visible to the south east, and the red and green marker buoys lit up the dark waters of the Swan River, further illumination provided by the lighting of boats travelling at night and the lights on Perth’s two major bridges, the Causeway and the Narrows. Lines of orange and blue lights made out Perth’s major roads and freeway, and in the hills of the Darling Range the lights of the suburbs shone in the darkness, with the red lights on top of the television transmission towers flashing intermittently. A plane gracefully taking to the skies added to Perth’s beauty.

“It’s much nicer up here than in that smoke-filled club, don’t you think?” Gabrielle asked.

“Much nicer,” I said, admiring the view. “I could stand here all night.”

“So could I, but I think we might end up getting wet if we did,” Gabrielle laughed, indicating the constant large drops of heavy rain. “How about we go back to my place for a while? It’s not too far from here, only in Wembley. We could watch a video or something.”

“Is your flat mate Sharon there?” I asked.

Gabrielle shook her head. “No, Sharon and her boyfriend have gone away for the weekend so I’m all by myself in a great big house. Well, it’s not a great big house, it’s a home unit, but you know what I mean.”

I got into the passenger side of Gabrielle’s car and Gabrielle got into the driver’s seat. Wearing such a short skirt, I was unable to prevent myself catching a look at Gabrielle’s knickers — pure white in color — when she repositioned herself and immediately I felt the response in my groin, my erection rising.

“Don’t be so stupid, Jeff,” I said to myself. “They’re just knickers, just white cotton fabric. Would you be turned on if you saw a photograph of those knickers in a sale catalogue?” I tried to get my erection under control, but still it rose further as I thought that the panties I had seen were not just any pair of knickers — they were Gabrielle’s panties, the woman I had a crush a mile wide upon. And things only got worse when I thought about what Gabrielle’s knickers covered — her pubic hair, her vagina, the tight opening of her anus and her perfectly shaped bum.

I was worried Gabrielle might see my predicament that was very clear in my jeans but fortunately she was concentrating on the road on a damp evening as she drove to her house in Wembley. Gabrielle, however, did not help things when her hand slipped off her gear stick as she changed gears to stop at a red light near Lake Monger and made contact with my knee.

With an erection throbbing in my undies and our destination approaching, I thought about Gabrielle’s ex-boyfriend — a footballer who was somewhat lacking in the brains department — and of whom I was intensely jealous. At times my mind went to thinking about the things Gabrielle and her ex-boyfriend would have done together in the privacy of a bedroom, but I was able to get things under control and by the time Gabrielle pulled into the block of units where she lived and parked her car in the carport, my erection was back under control.

I hadn’t been to Gabrielle’s place since she moved here, and was impressed. “This is a really nice house,” I said.

“Thanks, I love living here, and Sharon’s a great room-mate,” said Gabrielle, opening the front door to which we stepped inside.

I tried telling myself to calm down, it was just an ordinary home unit in suburban Perth, but inside I kept saying to myself, “I’m with Gabrielle in her house, I’m with Gabrielle in her house.”

“I’ll put some music on, and then I’ll give you the grand tour,” said Gabrielle, taking a cassette out of its case and inserting it into the player, the pleasant sounds of pop music filling the living room, and nowhere near as loud as the nightclub music.

“So, this is the kitchen, and this is my bedroom,” said Gabrielle, showing me both rooms. As I looked at Gabrielle’s bed I couldn’t stop myself thinking about Gabrielle in her nightwear sliding her bare feet under the covers for the night. Did Gabrielle ever sleep in her underwear, or completely naked? Did she masturbate under the covers at night? Had she ever had sex in the bed? Again, I told myself not to be dumb, it was just a bed, but my imagination wasn’t about to listen.

For obvious reasons Gabrielle didn’t show me Sharon’s bedroom where the door was closed, but did show me the bathroom, where my over-active mind imagined Gabrielle’s naked and nubile young body either in the bathtub or under the water of the shower.

“And this is the last place, the most interesting part of the house, the laundry and the toilet,” said Gabrielle, indicating both rooms.

I could feel the kaçak casino need to pee, so asked, “Would it be okay if I used your toilet?”

“Of course, I’d hardly say no would I?” Gabrielle laughed.

“Thanks Gabrielle,” I said, going into the lavatory and closing the door behind myself. I put up the lid and the seat and peed, before flushing the toilet and opening the door and turning off the light, walking to the sink to wash my hands.

Gabrielle entered the laundry. “I need to go too now,” she said, switching on the light and looking at the toilet, before laughing and shaking her head. “You’re a typical guy Jeff,” she observed.

“Sorry?” I asked.

Gabrielle again laughed her cute laugh, her smile making her pretty face even more beautiful. “You’ve left the toilet seat up. Why do guys always do that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t think,” I said.

Gabrielle put down the toilet seat. “I can always tell when Sharon’s boyfriend has been here. The toilet seat is always left up, or far worse I go in there and there’s no toilet paper. It was the same with my ex-boyfriend, he seemed to think that toilet seats magically went down on their own and toilet paper just spontaneously appeared.”

I laughed. “Maybe there should be a night school class for guys about these things?”

“Maybe, but I think it would have a 90 percent failing rate,” said Gabrielle. “How about you go and make yourself comfortable on the couch, and I’ll be back soon?”

“Thanks Gabrielle,” I said, leaving the laundry as Gabrielle stepped into the toilet and closed and locked the door behind herself. On the way back to the living room my hyperactive mind kept thinking about how at this moment Gabrielle was pulling her knickers down to sit on the toilet, before my conscious told me not to think like such a pervert.

I sat on the couch, watching the green numbers on the video cassette recorder change, before I heard Gabrielle flush the toilet and wash her hands before returning, adjusting her panties through her short denim skirt as she entered the living room.

“Would you like something to drink?” Gabrielle asked.

“Just some juice if you have some, please Gabrielle,” I said.

“Orange juice coming right up then,” said Gabrielle, stepping into the kitchen and returning with two glasses of juice.

“Thanks,” I said, accepting the glass as Gabrielle kicked off her flat-heeled shoes so she was barefoot and sat down next to me. I tried not to stare at Gabrielle’s perfect and pretty feet with not so much as a blemish on them, her toe nails painted with the same pink nail polish as were her finger nails.

“How’s university going?” Gabrielle asked me.

“Good for three units, bad for one,” I said. I grimaced and laughed. “Statistics, I just can’t get my head around them.”

Gabrielle also laughed, and I saw her bare toes flex and un-flex. “I couldn’t stand statistics either when I went to university.”

“They made you do statistics?” I asked, somewhat surprised. “You did a journalism degree.”

“They find a way to put stats into every course, I think,” said Gabrielle. “Not that we ever use them.”

“True,” I said. “Talking about journalism, how’s your new job going?”

“Really good,” said Gabrielle. “You know, I actually get to step out from behind the camera and be on TV next month.”

“That’s great!” I exclaimed. “I’m so happy for you.”

Gabrielle laughed. “There’s good news and bad news. The good news, obviously I get to appear on camera for the first time. The bad news, it involves climbing Bluff Knoll. You know, the mountain down near Albany?”

“Bluff Knoll — that’s a pretty tough climb isn’t it?”

Gabrielle nodded. “Yes, but I’m looking forward to it even though it will be a big challenge. There’s a group of us doing the climb. I’m just glad the weather isn’t too cold yet, I wouldn’t want to be up there in June, July or August.”

“It sounds great,” I said, turning as a flash of lightning illuminated the windows and the rain, persistent all evening turned into a deluge, heavy rain beating against the patio followed by the roll of thunder, then another lightning strike.

“Wow, that’s a big storm out there now,” said Gabrielle. “I don’t know about you, but I love lying in bed at night when it’s raining hard.”

“Me too,” I said, wondering how I was going to get home now. I didn’t want Gabrielle to have to drive at night in such heavy rain.

“What would you say to a sleepover?” Gabrielle asked.

My heart skipped a beat with the excitement of the prospect at spending the night at my secret crush’s place. “A sleepover?” I stammered. “You mean, here?”

“Well of course here,” laughed Gabrielle. “Where else? As you remember, Jenny and I had sleepovers all the time when we were growing up, so now I get to have a sleepover with her brother.”

“I think this couch will be nice and comfortable for me,” I said, feeling the cushions. I didn’t think for a moment that Gabrielle could be hinting at anything more happening.

“You could sleep out here, I guess,” said Gabrielle. “But I was hoping you would sleep in my bed with me. It would be kind of hard for us to have sex with you on the couch and me in my bed.”

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