Sister behind the wall

Lena was only three years older than her brother, but the gap between them felt much wider. She was twenty-one—an age when a girl already knows what she wants and can notice in others things they don't know about themselves. Outwardly, she looked simple, but there was something in her gaze that made men turn their heads. She moved calmly, confidently, with a grace that didn't draw attention but stayed in memory.

At home, Lena behaved casually—she could walk around in a tank top without a bra, barefoot, with disheveled hair. She was relaxed but observant. And more and more often, her attention lingered on her brother.

Max was a bit clumsy,

with a perpetual expression of slight pensiveness. Eighteen years old—an age when the body is almost adult, but behavior is often still childish. He was slender, tall, but didn't seem grown-up—more like a youth with everything still ahead. And most importantly—he was naive.

Lena noticed how he absentmindedly would step out of the shower, forgetting a towel, or leave the bathroom door open. He didn't do it on purpose—he just didn't think about such things. But she did. She watched. Smiled to herself, feeling a quiet, warm desire sprouting in her mind to tease him, to lead him along.

One evening, lying on her bed, Lena recalled one of those moments again: how Max, all wet from the shower, stood in the hallway drying his hair, completely forgetting he had nothing on. He caught her gaze, got embarrassed, covered himself with his hand, and left. And she had smiled then and thought: What if he hadn't left?

Working slowly, she made a hole in it too. When everything was ready, Lena leaned back, examining her creation. A small, round opening, like a hidden door. From her side or his—nothing caught the eye.

In the evening, she waited until Max settled in his room. Then she quietly entered. He was lying on the bed, scrolling through his feed.

"Hey," she said calmly, "can I come in for a minute?"

He nodded. Lena walked over to his closet, crouched down by the floor, and tapped on the lower part.

"There's a weird thing here," she said. "Have you seen it before?"

Max slid off the bed, came over, and looked. She moved some things aside, and he noticed the hole.

"What is it?"

Lena looked at him with a half-smile.

"Listen, Max, I was reading that these partitions sometimes have issues. I want to check what's behind the closet. Will you help? We need to slide something long in to understand the depth and if there's anything there. Look, there's a hole here... Maybe you could try? Carefully, so you don't break it. I doubt your hand would even fit through there, though."

Max looked away, thoughtful. Lena saw: he didn't fully understand, but curiosity was already stirring. That was all she needed.

She gently touched his shoulder.

"Want to try checking? I'm sure it won't hurt, probably even feels nice."

He nodded. Hesitantly, but he nodded.

"Okay," he said quietly.

Lena stood up, headed for the door, but turned back on the threshold.

"I'll give you a little time to check, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

She left, leaving him alone in the room. In her own room, she also knelt by the hole. On her side, everything was ready: soft fabric, a slightly warm surface. All arranged so as not to hurt.

Lena didn't rush. She leaned closer. Her hot breath touched his skin, and he trembled slightly. She smiled. First—just the touch of her lips to his tip, gently, thoroughly, not missing a single millimeter. He was tense but didn't pull away. That was a sign. She continued.

Lena pulled back for a second, giving him time. Looked at the hole, at his cock, and felt a strange, quiet excitement.

She leaned in again, slower, deeper. Now she was truly working with her mouth, lips, and tongue. With each second, he surrendered more. From the other side—barely audible breathing, ragged, uneven. She heard him mumbling something under his breath. Or to her? Who knew.

She didn't know how long it lasted. A few minutes? Longer? She lost track of time. And at some point, she felt him tense. His body shuddered, and cum spurted from his cock, and then everything went quiet. She slowly pulled back.

Silence. His breathing was still heavy, muffled. But not frightened. Peaceful.

Lena sat back on her heels, ran her hand over her lips, wiping away the remnants and holding her breath. Not because she was tired. But because she felt she had done something important. Not just satisfaction.