My Guardian Angel


Author’s Note:

This story contains sexually explicit and incestuous descriptions. If you are not happy or comfortable with this, please, don’t read it.

The story is completely fictional.

All persons mentioned performing sexual acts are 18 years or older.

No keyboard was harmed during the process of writing.



Getting all the stuff in my car wasn’t as easy as I thought. Being too much of a Fast’n’Furious fan had me sell my Pick-Up and buying this little Japanese street racer. In retrospective some major bullshit decision, not only when it comes to space for groceries, but also for girls … if you know what I mean.

My last girlfriend was always complaining about my car, especially when we were driving to the lake in summer.

“This car is something for boys to pose off in front of an ice-cream store, not to drive to the lake up in the mountains.”

Aargh, I still can hear her annoying voice in my head when thinking about it.

“Is anybody here to help?” I screamed through our house while carrying the first bags in the kitchen, but nobody showed up.

“Thanks for helping,” I muttered into the empty kitchen with a mix of anger and frustration when I was done, while grabbing a beer out of the fridge. Not looking back over my shoulder, I couldn’t see who was coming in from the garden, but the footsteps told me somebody was.

“You were asked politely to help, but you just scream through the house and expect somebody to show up,” my dad reprimanded me. „Each and every one has to perform several tasks so we can prepare this event within time. Your first job was getting our order from the store to this very kitchen, and you’re already late. No time for a break and definitely not for a beer.”

He didn’t raise his voice but spoke calm and quiet as always, and as far as I recognized, he added his do-not-push-me-over-the-edge-tone … and boy, do I not wanna do this right now!

Being an ex-army commander, he clearly knows how to give orders or getting back his respect, and what else am I supposed to say except “Yes, sir,” while putting the beer back in the fridge and heading right back to my next task.


“Listen up! You know I am not good at giving a speech, but you all have done a great job today! The garden looks great, the snacks are prepared, the drinks … well … everything is ready for the event and our guests will have a wonderful time tomorrow. Thanks!” our dad raised his glass and went back in the kitchen.

“Did he really just say ‘thanks’?” my sister Sara asked in surprise.

“I heard it, too,” I answered, still looking at the spot where he stood just seconds ago.

“Why is this party so important to him?”

“Event!” I corrected her with a grin on my face and tried to sound posh. “He always speaks of it as an event, my dear sister. And, to answer your question, I’ve no idea.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to slap me on my shoulder like we always do when one was mocking the other, but I was faster and scooted out of her reach.

“I know he calls it that, but … anyway. Do you know what it’s all about?”


“Any idea?”


“You know who’s showing up?”


“Boy, aren’t you the eloquent one!” she said rolling her eyes. Now it was her turn to mock me.


The next day we had several hours before the guests would arrive, so I slept a little longer as usual. My parents left in the morning for ‘getting some fresh air to keep a clear head’ — at least this was written on the post-it which was sticking on the coffee machine.

My sis was already sitting in front of the tv in our living room playing some sort of ego shooter. I always wondered how she maintained her athletic figure while being a couch potato and loving fast food. Not that she didn’t do any sports at all, but I never saw her spending time in the gym or doing some exercises at home like my ex-girlfriend did.

With 5’7” tall, she has a real well shaped figure, slender with slim legs, a nice butt and a flat belly. And she got some firm C-cup boobs, 32C if I’m not mistaken. Her hair reaches down between her shoulder blades and has a side cut on the left. The short hair on the side cut maintained her original light brown color, but she dyed the long hair in a mix of peroxide blonde and grey. Combined with her still brown and full eyebrows it looked really good, not to say awesome.

Back then, when Sara got her hair done like this, she still was a trainee and wasn’t allowed to get a tattoo on the side of her head or a nose piercing like she wanted. So she rebelled a little against our parents and shaved a pattern in her side cut (which she still has, but varies over time) and used a fake nose ring, which she mostly puts on the left ala of the nose.

It was hell of a discussion back then and for my parents, her style and outfit were definitely something they struggled to get used to. But my sister was working in fashion design and photography, bakırköy escort both in the same company, depending on the task she gets assigned to, so her whole appearance is something which goes along with her job.

Since Sara switched to this kind of style, she didn’t really change any more in my view, but that’s how it is with someone you see every day, isn’t it? The only major change to me were the tattoos on her right arm and left leg. She got them about 2 years ago and took her 4 months to complete, and to our both surprise, our parents didn’t even say a word.

“Aren’t you a little too old for that?” I asked still a little sleepy while pointing to the game on the tv.

Her being now 22 I honestly thought she was. I was thinking about saying something for being that old and still live at home, but this would become a boomerang. I am 16 months older than her and also live at our parents’ house, so I bit my tongue and just wanted to leave as she completed my thoughts without turning around. “Yeah, and I am still living at our parents’ house. But so do you, bookie.”

A comment she seemed to regret the moment she said it.


My sister called me ‘bookie’ since I started studying. To be honest, I have no idea why, because it was not business studies, which would be the obvious. I am studying industrial design. Drawing, designing and being creative in general runs in our blood, I guess. At least in the blood of our generation. And yes, I also still live with our parents — or better, I live with them again.

I once had moved out from home and in together with my best friend Henry, but everybody just called him Harry. Some mums of girls we knew secretly called him ‘the Harry to marry’ because he was such a handsome guy and for them, he portrayed the ideal son-in-law. To me he was more like a brother than just a friend, because we knew each other since kindergarten. Of course, we had our disagreements and even small fights, who doesn’t, but never something we couldn’t sort out. The best part of our friendship was, we could talk about everything without any regrets or prejudice. Something I could not do with any other person, including members of my family.

We were so close that there even was the rumor we are a gay couple, so we took it a step further and shared an apartment. For our amusement (and the embarrassment of our parents) we painted our front door in a light pink with both our names on it surrounded by a heart shaped cloud. We always had to explain the way our front door looked, when there were female visitors, but the story was quite good for breaking the ice and sometimes we happily agreed to proof our sexual orientation to them. Luckily, we had completely different tastes when it came to girls … which was good, because that way there was never any envy or argument about them.

We were on our own and enjoyed life as much as we could. A few month later everything changed. It still feels like some sort of a bad dream when thinking back — which I try to avoid as best as I can.

I was just coming back to our apartment when I saw police knocking at our door.

After asking for my name and ID, the officer, although he saw both our names written on the door he just knocked at, asked me, “Do you know a Henry Alliser?”

We for sure were no bad guys or in any sort of illegal stuff, but to be honest we sometimes tested the legal limits, especially when it came to pranking us or other friends. It wasn’t like the police already knew us by name, but we had enough encounters with people in uniforms and were familiar with being questioned, so I was not really surprised or suspicious seeing them at our door.

“You mean Henry Allister, with a ‘t’.” I tapped on his name on the door while opening it.

The officer just nodded.

“You talkin’ ’bout that crazy guy who lives here? Oh yeah, I do know him!” trying to sound polite but like some sort of tough guy at the same time.

“Well, Mr. Allister was involved in an accident. We are sorry to deliver the bad news, but he succumbed to his severe injuries on the way to the hospital.”

Everything in my head started to spin, my stomach was suddenly turning upside down and I thought I had to throw up. This was no more having a little trouble, playing pranks or whatever.

That was the day, my sister saw me at my worst. I could not stop crying, I just could not stop. She was the one who took me back home to our parents’ house. She even took the next days off from work, so I had somebody to talk to when I needed it most, a shoulder to lean on or just somebody near so I didn’t have to be alone.

After the funeral I could not return to my apartment, where everything reminded me of Harry, so I stayed in my old room.

The following weeks was the time, when my sister and I went from being siblings to being best friends. We talked like Harry and I used to, I could weep on her shoulder when I felt up to it without being ashamed, she even started to share one başakşehir escort or two secrets with me. We didn’t just speak, we really talked with each other. Of course, my parents were there for me, too, but it was my sister who dragged me out of my depression.

That’s why I wanted to show her, how much she meant to me. I always loved raven because they are wise, intelligent, mysterious and — at least for me — symbolize some sort of a secret keeper. So I got myself a tattoo on my left chest of a raven sitting on a perch, with the letters ‘y.w.b.i.m.h.f.’ underneath. I got her a necklace with an inch-tall silver heart, having the same letters engraved on its back.

As I entered the house, I saw her sitting on the couch watching tv, just in her sweatpants and a washed out, not to say worn, sleeveless shirt. In that moment I was thinking about giving her the necklace during dinner, when she will wear something a little more suitable with my parents present but decided otherwise. I sat next to her with a big, silly grin on my face and just stared at her, until she turned towards me.

“Hey, Lloyd Christmas! Didn’t expect you to visit me on my couch.”

“Damn! I was thinking about Harry Dunne,” I answered, referring to one of our favourite movies.

“This all” –I started right away while trying to capture the scene with my hands– “is something that I really enjoy. Being able to fool around, but also having profound conversations with someone I trust and care about. I know I’ve said it several times, but it means so much to me. That’s the reason why I have something for you.”

She put on a serious face and turned off the tv while I was reaching in my pocket and retrieved a small velvet bag. Her eyes widened in anticipation and when she opened it, she teared up a little. She almost jumped over and bear hugged me on the couch, which caused us both to be in some strange twisted positions. When I tried to hug her back, my right hand couldn’t reach between her and the backrest up to her back, so I gripped her butt instead. Luckily, she didn’t care about that in this moment.

When she looked more closely to the necklace, she raised an eyebrow.

“What does ‘ywbimhf’ mean?” while trying to pronounce the letters as one word and making a weird face.

“The same as here.” I moved with a finger over the letters on my chest.

For her it still made no sense because I was wearing my t-shirt and all she saw was my finger sliding over some printed lines on the fabric. I could almost see the question mark floating above her head.

“Well, I think I’ll have to show you.”

I lifted my shirt as much as possible and revealed my tattoo.

“Wow, cool!” was her reaction when looking at the raven. “But there are still just the same letters, no explanation.”

“That’s because this is for you and just for you, so I wanted only you to understand it. You were there when I needed one the most, you kept my devil in check. You are one hell of a sister and my best friend. You are the reason” –I had to swallow hard here– “You are the reason I’m still alive,” I admitted, not taking my eyes from hers. “It means ‘you will be in my heart forever’.”

Tears were now running down her cheeks. She planted a soft kiss on my forehead and hugged me again

“I love you,” she mumbled in my neck where she buried her face.

“I love you, too.”

“Sorry, but I need a tissue.”

“I’ll get you one.”

When I returned from the kitchen I watched her planting a soft kiss on the silver heart and then holding it tight to her chest.

“Can you help me putting it on?”

While I walked around the sofa to stand behind her, she leaned back, whirled her hair up and held it on her head with both hands. First, my breath caught ’cause I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. Due to the sleeveless shirt and raised arms I had a good view on some sideboobs, but she didn’t recognize.

Standing behind her I placed the heart directly on her cleavage and, while doing it, enjoyed the view of her tits a little more. The thin shirt and rather plunging neckline left quite little to my imagination. Obviously, I stared a little too long, because when I moved on with closing the necklace, she already looked up to me and grinned.

‘Busted!’ I thought to myself, but she didn’t comment at all, just stood up and looked at the silver heart in the mirror. Then she came back to me, hugged me again and kissed me on the cheek.

“You are in mine since ever,” she whispered in my ear, turned around and went to her room.

This was now 7 month ago.


“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I mean I tried to be funny and–” she quickly turned around and apologized. As soon as she looked at me, she seemed startled by something but wanted to continue as I cut her off.

“I know how you meant it and it’s true, I also live with my parents. And you know I don’t judge if you are the one telling me this. We’ve talked about this a lot and you can say bebek escort everything when making fun.”

Returning to her pokerface, she quickly added, “Well, in this case I say: you better start waking up, go back to your room and put some proper clothes on. Or do you wanna give me a little show like I did some month ago?”

I was confused at first, but when I looked down I knew, what she was talking about. I sleep only in my sweatpants, which I can tell you is one hell of a feeling. But if you have an early-morning hard-on, even if only semi erect, just some sweatpants are not exactly a good way to hide it. I turned beet red, tried to cover it with my hand and was on my way back up to my room, when I heard her laughing, “Hey, nothing to be embarassed of!”

“Yeah, but nothing to be proud of either.”

I heard her mumble something more to herself than to me.

“You were saying?”

“Nothing important,” she replied in an instant and turned her head away rather quickly.


When I came back down in some jeans and a t-shirt, my sister had made me some coffee and was waiting in the kitchen. She handed me the mug when I entered.

“Everything cool?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t quite get your last comment when I went back up. What was that again?”

“Nothing important,” Sara repeated while turning away again and fiddling nervously with her mug in the coffee machine.

“Ok, but I have another question and this time I wanna get an answer … the truth, to be specific.”

Now my sis faced me wide-eyed like she was being caught red-handed, “Ooookey, what do you wanna know?” The reservation was clearly audible in her voice.

“A few minutes ago you said, and I quote ‘Or do you wanna give me a little show like I did some month ago?’ What did you mean by that? Did you refer to the time when I gave you the necklace? And did you really do that on purpose, letting me grab your butt and take a look at your … bust size?”

I had loved to call them tits, but didn’t dare to say it.

First she just seemed taken by surprise, because of my questions. Then I could see the nerviness kicking in as she started to shift in her seat and avoided to look at me while blushing a little. But in a matter of seconds the nervous behaviour stopped and a smirk appeared on her face, “You only asked for one other question, so I take your first. My answer to that is: ‘nothing important’.”

With that, my sister stood up and turned back to the coffee machine.

“Yeah, I heard that before.” I sounded defeated … and maybe a little disappointed.

Altough it didn’t take long I needed a break from this somehow weird conversation and sipped silently on my coffee. The only sound was the coffee running in her mug, and in the moment it was finished, she turned around, “Regarding the other two questions: yes, and yes. And nobody calls it ‘bust size’. These are my twins. Even when they are not that big they are still my tits. And by the way, you don’t have to be embarassed, obviously you can be proud of what you have. At least one of us has something to show.”

Still my mug of coffee in one hand I was baffled and speechless as she left the kitchen and went back up to her room.

My brain had to process these words before I could do or say something, so I stayed and finished my coffe. ‘Yes, and yes’ I was thinking.

“So she did that on purpose. She let me see her tits!” I said outloud to myself in a surprised way.

“Hmm, how nice of her, whoever ‘she’ is.” Out of nowhere my dad was suddelny right behind me.

“Jesus Christ!” I jumped and spilled the rest of my coffee over the table and on my shirt. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Boo!” he added with a laughter. “Who you talkin’ ’bout anyway?”

“Uhm, just some girl I share a class with,” I lied.

“So ‘just some girl’, huh? You wanna have her over this afternoon? There’s plenty of food and drinks, so if you want you can invite her,” my dad offered. “Let’s take a look what she has to show!” he added with a wink and earned a shocked look and a love tab from my mum. Luckily, she was one of those women who understood this sort of jokes and laughed with us.

“Maybe, I’ll think about it. But thanks to you I have to change my shirt first,” I scolded him joky and headed upstairs.

“And don’t forget your underpants!” dad shouted after me followed by a loud laughter.


After changing I knocked softly at my sister’s door.

“Come in.” Even through the door I could hear she sounded somewhat sad.

“Everything cool?” I copied her question from before.

“I guess.” Sara was lying on her bed, facing away from me. Well that didn’t sound convincing.

“Look, you don’t have to be sorry, embarassed or whatever when it comes to me. We promised we can talk about everything. ‘you will be in my heart forever'” –I told her while touching the letters on my chest– “no matter what, remember?”

There was a brief pause.

“I do remember very well,” she finally answered while putting a hand on the silver heart around her neck. The tremble in her voice revealed the tears in her eyes.


My sister stood up and nodded, “Yeah, a tight one.”

While we were hugging, she felt real tense and cautious, as if she was frightened to hurt me.

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