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Impregnating My Younger Nerdy Sister, by Jezebel Rose

His nerdy, recently-married, just barely eighteen year-old sister sat across the table from him. She was on the edge of her seat with her hands placed neatly in her lap, fidgeting with a pen there, a clipboard with all their stats on it propped up against her knees.

They were playing DnD. Dungeons and Dragons. Otherwise known as nerd heaven. He’d chosen to go with a rogue, and his friends were there too: they were all playing miscellaneous characters. His sister was the Dungeon Master, and would be playing as several of the non-player characters they’d prepared earlier, much to everyone’s general delight: especially his.

This was their first night trying out the game, and they’d even brought costumes. Unfortunately, his sister was the only one dressed normally, whereas everyone else had made an effort. That was because her husband was still in the apartment, sitting on his own by the fire, excluded from everyone else: he was a bit of a pretentious bastard, see. 

Luckily, she still looked incredible.

Her name was Kitty. But he never called her that because it made her upset. They’d lost their kitty when they were both ten, and she’d never quite gotten over it. However, the name suited her perfectly: she was little, buoyant, and expressive in her features.

Her hair had been tucked behind her ears, showing her round, youthful face, and as she talked animatedly with his friends, her large eyes beamed with excitement and curiosity as she asked each of them about their characters. She really liked role-playing ever since her father had made her get married to a mostly-deaf, half-blind philanthropist. It was a long story, but the important thing was he didn’t fulfill her as a husband or a lover, but he did have a shit load of money. So, she role-played. It helped take her mind off things, she said. She’d told him all this and more over the phone, sometimes. She tended to call to check in every once in a while. They’d always been close. … Really close.

He watched her busying herself, looked over her white teeth and her big smile, the subtle way she bit her lip whenever she got into what someone was saying, how she tucked her strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear and shuffled her slim, petite body in her seat to get comfortable. That body – ending in a pair of nude, creamy heels, her toes painted yellow, bare ankles leading into the hem of her dress.

She caught him looking at her like this and she peered at him with a big, leftover smile, and then blinked when he had the audacity not to look away. She blushed, and then tried to continue the conversation with the person still talking to her: her mouth open, nodding along, but obviously distracted by him.

She glanced his way again, saw him looking at her still, and fidgeted: a little uncomfortable, a little… excited. Her eyes flicked up from the clipboard and to him discreetly, and then away again – she cleared her throat, straightened out her arms, sat nicely, like a schoolgirl, and then met his eyes entirely. She then said in her most smooth, seductive tone, with a slight note of elation in it to get started, and a husky suggestion at the back of her throat, ‘’So… what do you think? … Should we get going with this?’’

Everyone nodded eagerly and shuffled closer around the dining table. They’d set themselves up in my sister’s, husband’s apartment. It was classy, glossy, and modern. But it did have some rustic aesthetic to it. An oak rocking chair by the fire where her husband often sat; and the fire was casting a warm light across the room, and especially along my sister’s nude, pale arms and her busy hands as she took the D20 and made the first roll.

The game progressed quite slowly as they got used to their characters. There were a few amateurs, he noticed: people who didn’t really know how to get the ball rolling, or give my sister anything interesting to do with her story-telling talents. He knew she was into this; good at it; eager to play, but these people – their mates from the pub – they didn’t know what they were doing at all. He’d been to games where people ended up mind-controlled, kidnapping each other, tying each other up. These guys barely knew how to take movement turns.

It was going to be a long night, he realised. Ah well, at least he had his pretty sister to look at.

Whenever it was his turn, he’d sit there and smile at her; and she’d always look at him with slight anticipation because they both knew he had a tendency to get really wicked with his role-playing. With only a little reserve, she stood up to stretch across the table to hand him the dice. ‘’Your turn, Rob?’’ She’d say, leant over the table, offering him the die in her palm.

When she did this, her plucky cotton dress would tighten-up around her stomach and thighs, revealing the plush of her abdomen, and it’d slide up her legs enough to show her pink, wrinkly knees, and the tops of her arms as the sleeves would ride higher too; and her eyes would look down at him, and he could see the pink of her tongue waiting between her lips. She was as fresh as a daisy, even married for a year, his sister could still pass for fresh out of school.

He felt like she was teasing him whenever she did this, as she could have just passed the dice to someone else, and they would’ve handed it to him instead. But she seemed to enjoy giving him a subtle look at her cleavage. He only wished she would have loosened-up her collar a little more.

‘’Thanks Sis.’’ Rob said. She simply shrugged a little and blinked her eyes coquettishly as she sat back down. 

He started narrating his turn, and everyone stared at him, wide-eyed: because he was good. He was a Dungeon Master himself. They peered at the campaign map with interest as he led them down side-streets and between city corridors and towards an inn, and his sister quickly started and got out her clipboard and flicked through it rapidly to find the NPC who waited on the tavern. Her eyes kept flicking towards him, stunned he had so much individual agency.

‘’The party needs more bag space, right?’’ Rob checked.

She nodded with uncertainty, unsure how he was going to do it, even a little excited to see what he’d brainstormed whilst sitting there, waiting for his turn.

‘’Can I run a speech check?’’ He asked.

‘’Sure.’’ She said and sat up a little to peer at the board as he rolled the dice: a perfect 20.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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