Sister Sleeping Stories

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Sister Sleeping Stories


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Experiments I conducted on my little sister: Part I


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I’m the second child in four. The good thing about this fact is that while growing up, siblings #1 and #3 were both suitable playmates for me. If one of them didn’t want to play, I would simply hang out with the other one. Sometimes I had the luxury of choosing between the two of them.
Sometimes, at night, when my little sister and brother were already in bed and my elder sister didn’t want to play with me, I got bored with ways of entertaining myself. So occasionally, I would quietly sneak into their room, while they were still awake. My sister slept in a loft bed. At her feet, there was a big chair. My creative brain had invented the ultimate sport: get to that chair without getting noticed by her. This was a incredibly slow process, because my sister would be able to catch me with every potential noise I would make. If she simply turned her head and glanced over at the floor she would see me. Sometimes I would lie down on the floor for minutes without moving. Sometimes I would only move one limb per minute.
At times my brother, who slept in the same room, would spot me during this process. His bed was at a normal height. I would make him into my accomplice by quietly gesturing him to keep quiet. He always played along.
When I finally reached the big chair after a long and dangerous journey from the door, I would silently climb onto it. Quietly holding my breath, I would slowly change my weight from one foot to the other, until I was standing on the arms of the chair in ducked position.
At this point, my sister would still be completely unsuspecting of what was about to happen. She was usually just staring at the ceiling, minding her own thoughts, probably thinking about rainbows and sheep.
Out of nowhere, I would jump from behind her bed and scream. As you can imagine, this caused quite a reaction. It scared the hell out of her, time and time again.
It ended up with me laughing hysterically, thinking I was the most successful and hilarious super ninja in the world, and her needing to calm down after having a heart attack. In my mind I had the mad skills of a spy, which one day would prove to be useful in my future detective career.
Then I would just hang out for a bit. We would talk about whatever was on our minds until she got tired or I got bored and I would leave again.
You might think she hated this, but in fact, she really loved it.
These dark little visits gave me an idea.
I’ve always had a curious mind. So sometimes, in order to make sense of the world around me and prove certain theories, I would make my little sister into my own personal test subject.
I had heard about a certain theory that had caught my interest. Supposedly, you dream of the things that you hear around you during your sleep. This was a fascinating concept. It would mean, that you could influence what others dream about. That was even more exciting than lucid dreaming. I decided to test if it worked.
So one night, after my younger siblings fell asleep, I sneaked into their room.
I decided that the best way to test my theory, was by whispering one word over and over again in my sister’s ear. The next day, I would ask her what she had dreamt about. It was a fail-safe plan.
Great thought went into what word I would use. I thought about using a boy’s name from her school, but this was too big a risk. She might not want to share that with me the next day. It should be a word that normally wouldn’t necessarily be in her dreams, but would be very recognizable.
I decided to go with ‘washing machine’.
My sister was lying in bed. She was already dozing off, when suddenly she heard someone hissing into her ear. She opened her eyes, bewildered.
At this point she realised that I, for some reason, was 1. awfully close to her and 2. repeatedly whispering ‘washing machine’ (with a hypnotic rhythm and tone for effect) into her ear.
While still in the middle of my experiment, my sister had clearly awakened. This wasn’t really part of the plan, but as she was awake now anyways, I eagerly asked her what she dreamt about, just now. I was desperate to know if my experiment had worked.
Anything in particular, like… perhaps… a washing machine?
I WASN’T SLEEPING. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Disappointed with this new piece of information, I decided to confide in her. I told her of my fantastic experiment. She didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic. Clearly, she just wasn’t the kind of person who would recognise the value and beauty of a good science experiment when it is right in front of her.
Oh well. I figured I just needed to try again another time.
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Haha, I love this post! It’s definitely one of my favourites. Everrr. So much fun to read this from your point of view. I’m so going to save this and treasure it. You can illustrate a book: ‘OHANA adventures, crazy monkeys’. Going to be fun… Can’t wait for the rest of the series. ;)
Haha, I’m definitely considering drawing more ;)
Family stories are the best. This is so sweet and silly!
I loved reading this! You should make a children’s book out of this :D
:D Thanks! I have a lot more stories left, so who knows
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Melinda Matthews
Apr 16, 2018 7:07pm


Melinda Matthews
Apr 16, 2018 7:09pm


Melinda Matthews
Apr 16, 2018 7:05pm

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The room is dim and grainy, littered with pill bottles, cluttered with magazines and reams of hospital paperwork. One bare-bulbed lamp provides our only source of light. I feel trapped inside a fetid, stagnant cave where stacks of books rise up and cobwebby filaments filter down as substitute stalagmites and stalactites.
My sister lies in her king-sized bed, as close to the edge as possible so the ordeal of swinging her legs around to sit upright is minimized. Her shrunken frame is practically swallowed up under the comforter and the five pillows propped around her.
She squirms, unable to find a comfortable position despite my multiple attempts to rearrange the pillows. She finally sighs exhaustedly, “I can’t stand the way my t-shirt keeps bunching up behind my back.”
“So take it off,” I reply, somewhat cheekily. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
She ignores my attempt at light-heartedness, but allows me to help her remove her shirt. I stifle a shocked gasp when I see her body.
She’s skeletal, her hard-edged bones a sharp and startling counterpoint to the soft, loose folds of skin hanging like curtains from her arms and legs. Her thighs are the size of my calves.
I’m grateful for the semi-darkness that conceals my reaction, for her fogged illness that blurs her awareness.
“Wow,” I say, forcing myself to keep my tone light. “You need to start eating more, girl.”
She’s finally found an acceptable position on her back with three pillows behind her head, one tucked into her left side, and one propped under her knees.
I flip off the light and join her in the bed. The clammy stillness in the room presses down on my chest oppressively. I’m hot, sweaty, and tightly coiled. I want to run, flee, claw at my mental and physical constraints.
“A show of solidarity,” I joke to my sister, but I feel lighter and freer having shed at least one small constricting layer.
We lay side-by-side on our backs. I watch the rise and fall of her belly, thick and swollen with disease. It’s the only part of her body that’s remotely similar to mine these days. But while her bloat is the result of the war raging in her body, mine is due to menopause, a slowing metabolism, a thyroid gone haywire, and (I confess) a few too many cookies.
Even at this stage in our lives, we’re as alike yet as different as can be, my sister and me.
For our entire lives, we’ve traveled similar but disparate paths, beginning with shared childhood experiences that skewed our outlooks and distorted our perspectives.
While I can’t speak for my sister, judging from her lifelong actions, she, like me, has diverted way too much energy into seeking deliverance from the past. Our coping mechanisms, like everything else about us, have been twisted reflections of each other: our darkness and light, defiance and submission, courage and fear intertwined.
Tonight, as we lie together naked in her bed, I feel closer than ever to understanding my sister’s choices, her multi-faceted complexities. My newfound awareness is wordless, wrapped up in bare skin and stripped emotions.
I spend the night sleeping fitfully, constantly listening for the stop-start pattern of my sister’s ragged, irregular breathing, a mirror to the sputtering of my own worried heart.
And occasionally I reach out to touch my sister’s hand. I feel for her warmth, her essence—and reassurance that she hasn’t left me.
My sister succumbed to her illness on February 20, 2017, three months after I wrote this. Today marks a year since she died.
Author: Melinda Matthews
Image: Author’s Own
Editor: Catherine Monkman
Oh my….what a special piece. Thank you for sharing with us. My heart is full…and heavy…and grateful.
Thank you. I originally wrote this piece on my phone during the flight home from this visit. When the moments are that indelible, the words come pouring out.
Karen Shanley said it best, “my heart is full and heavy, and grateful.” Your voice is very good. I had a young mother, and watched her die. It’s been 31 years. You’re an inspiration. Thank you.
I’m sorry you lost your mother so young and that you had to witness it. It had to have shaped your life in countless ways. Thank you for reading and sharing.
I know what it’s like to lose a sister to a disease(hers was Cancer)..left a large hole in my heart..I was close to her and loved her more than words can say…still do…she left us in ’04….still get emotional on her birthday and on Christmas eve(when she passed)…..stay strong!! your love for your sister will carry you through as it has for me
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Love Story Love Stories from real people! Care to share your Love Story?

My sweet little step-sister Josie

Posted on : 22-05-2013 | By : Love Story Writer ... | In : Romance Love Story


Tags: Erotic , love , Romance Love Story , sexy , sweet , virgin , Young


Welcome to the Love Story Blog of Love-Sessions.
Do you have a special love story? Actually every love story is great. How does it begin, what did it take, who was involved and how did it end if it ended.
Hollywood's best movies are love stories! We are eager to read yours or maybe you are just eager to read others. Maybe one of the producers of Hollywood is reading your story and what a story that would be!
Enjoy our site and we look forward to receive your story!
Chapter one: (Life on the Ranch)
My name is Tim; I am twenty five years old, six feet tall, weigh two hundred pounds and am in good physical shape and I exercise every day. My face is a light tan color with blue eyes and dark brown hair. Girls often tell me that my most attractive features are my eyes and my firm cowboy butt. This is a story about my life growing up with Josie. We were raised on a ranch in the beautiful rolling foothills of the Rocky Mountains near Calgary Alberta Canada.
My biological parents died when I was too young to remember them and I was adopted and raised by a loving couple that owned the ranch I am writing about where this story all takes place.
They are really great and loving parents and treat me like their own child. Dad is white Caucasian and has lived her since he was little, mom is Latina but she was born in Canada and has been in this area her whole life
I lived on the ranch alone with my parents until just after my seventh birthday, when my step sister Josie was born. She just turned eighteen this spring, and has grown into the most beautiful and sexy girl that I have ever seen, she looks very much like she is full Latina, but she is half white because of her dad.
I started riding horses when I was two years old and learned all about ranch work and riding horses on that ranch. I learned how to rope steers and chase cows by the time I was five. I really loved life on the ranch, there was always something fun and exciting to do.
When I turned sixteen I found myself starting to think more and more about girls. One day I s
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