บท 4047: SISTER MINDFUCKER
'll tell you when I first realized I had this power over him.
We were at Splash Gorge, the overpriced water park, for Sandra's birthday.
My brother and I are not in the habit of going to the same birthday parties, but Sandra is my friend and her older brother is friends with Christian, my brother.
So we were at the water park, which I wasn't looking forward to - I don't love water and am terrified of heights. I also hate parks, crowds and people; and don't enjoy spending time with my brother.
But it was Sandra's desire for her birthday, so a bunch of us met there around noon and spent six, sweltering hours going up stairs and down slides, and splashing around in pools.
It ended up being quite fun, like most things in life that you don't look forward to.
But there was this one slide, called The Kraken.
It was a waterslide made to look like a giant squid, with near-vertical drops, and an endless loop of concentric rings.
We had to line up for this mega-slide for, like, an hour.
I was wearing a tiny bikini and already sunburned as a result. And the staircase provided little shade from the sun.
The slide was so popular that people were jumping onto it from the top - either on their own, or in twos - without the slightest thought for their own safety.
I mean, not that it wasn't safe, but people just seemed so gung-ho about it, while I was terrified.
I'd been in turmoil all the way up the steps.
I shouldn't have agreed to go on it at all, but it only became too intense when we were halfway up, and by that point I was too scared to look down, let alone return to earth.
My brother was about eight people behind me in line.
We didn't make eye contact, but he told me later that he could see I was feeling anxiety.
I've had panic attacks in the past - I think my Mom told you?
So we get to the top of the stupidly high slide and I'm practically having a heart attack, because it's my turn to climb on - which the entire crowd is expecting me to do, without a second thought - to keep the line moving.
I'm pretty much peeing myself with fear at this point.
And I'm expected to throw myself down as casually as everyone else.
My brother pushes past the strangers ahead of him in line, and jumps onto the slide behind me at the last minute; clamping me safely between his legs, and holding his arms tightly around me; like a human seatbelt.
I don't think he knew how much I appreciated it.
And I don't appreciate anything.
I didn't say anything at the time because I was too busy screaming for the ride down.
The freak slide seemed to go on forever.
Every time I thought the worst part was over, there would be an even steeper drop, or more accelerating turn.
But my brother held me tightly in his grip the whole way.
As a result I didn't feel like I was going to fly off - which is my big, irrational fear on slides.
The final part of the slide deposits you in a shallow swimming pool.
The last few turns slow you down, but the ramp at the end hurls you face-first into the pool.
I got the worst of it because I was the first to enter the water, and my brother had to push me under so that he didn't arrive on top of me.
I got dunked and resurfaced, and my brother did the same a few seconds later.
But to my surprise, as he stood up - and as his waist emerged from the surface of the water - I saw the clear outline of his penis beneath his speedos, and it was hard.
The way the yellow Lycra emphasized its shape and size was glaringly obvious, and pretty indecent.
I mean, it wasn't a full-on boner, because it was held tightly against his body by the wet fabric. But it was the vivid outline of a lot more than a semi.
It filled his yellow speedos to the brim - like there was an actual banana down there.
He knew it too, because he glanced down and immediately sank back into the water, to linger for a while - despite it being a pool designed for people to land in, not spend any time.
A couple of women actually landed on top of him shortly afterwards.
Sandra wanted us to leave for the wave pool, so I don't know how long it took for him to get out.
But it was weird, and I couldn't stop thinking about it after that.
I wasn't thinking about his dick exactly.
I was thinking about why it would go like that.
Why would holding onto his sister make him hard?
He wasn't hard before we rode the slide, so it could only have been his body pressed against mine that made this happen.
Did I mention I was in a tiny, string-bikini? And that his speedos were super skimpy? There had been a lot of flesh touching flesh.
I realized I must have turned him on.
Would the same thing have happened to any brother, on any water slide, if their sister was wearing a flimsy bikini?
It was difficult to know.
But for me it was a wake-up call.
I realized for the first time that my brother had a weakness.
One that I could exploit to my advantage.
My grown-up body held a power over him - the sort of power I had always longed for, but never found.
If I was clever about it, I could make sure it was his undoing.
I should probably give you some background...
Two
My brother was always the favorite.
He was the scholar. The good looking one. The kind one. The gifted one, The one who got to ride shotgun.
The one who had the bigger room, better toys, better computer, and more expensive clothes.
He received the first serving of ice cream, as well as the last; and most of the ones in between.
He got the best grades, best compliments - and for at least the first 15 years of our shared youth, appeared to have the superior genes.
He was just the better human out of the two of us.
He was considered a "high achiever," which basically meant - although nobody came out and said it - that I was a "low" one.
I was the crazy one. The lazy one. The disruptive and destructive one.
I was told I had reading, then learning, then attention difficulties; and when those would no longer fit, that I had behavioral ones.
Oh and a lack of empathy.
My father once accused me of trying to derail my brother's success.
It was like he had given up on the chance of me achieving anything myself and his remaining guidance was just: don't get in the way of your brother achieving things.
That was my childhood in a nutshell.
My brother was the dominant sibling. In a similar way that you have one dominant eye.
Did you know that? Cause apparently it's a thing.
I do not mean to suggest my brother was dominant, by the way - he's a helpless pussy. Just that he was the apple of everyone else's (dominant) eye for years, while I was forced to play second fiddle.
Everyone worshipped him, but they remained wary of me.
The final straw came when my parents gave him the basement room.
For years I had wanted that room.
It's, like, ten times bigger than mine. It's a basement, not a bedroom.
It was like giving him an apartment.
And he was going to be away studying for most of the year!
I was sick of it.
I needed to regain status in my own family.
I needed some power over him...
But there had never been anything.
Throughout the 18 years of our shared youth, not once had I possessed any kind of advantage over him, let alone a winning hand.
Until...
I grew tits and an ass.
And suddenly there it was.
A new superpower was born.
And the beginning of my brother's downfall.
I'm a bit nuts, by the way...
Three
Another incident occurred about three weeks after the water park.
Mom and Dad had taken us out on the boat for the day.
The weather was amazing and we were allowed to drink cider, which was not something Dad often permitted - although he didn't let me have much, and I'd already had twice more than he knew.
We were in swimwear for most of the afternoon, but by the time we drove home, my brother wore a t-shirt and board shorts; while I was in a beach dress.
We were in the back seat of the car and I guess Christian was exhausted because he fell asleep, curled up like a dog, his head facing away.
While he was sleeping his shorts had slid down at the back - you know how shorts sometimes do, and his ass was showing.
I studied the shape and contour of his glutes and thighs, and I don't know why - when it should have been my brother's usual gross ass - but for some reason there was something... how do I say it without sounding weird... stimulating about it.
It wasn't like I wanted to reach out and grab it, or anything.
He was still my brother, the dork.
But it was as though the dork had become more masculine while I hadn't been paying attention. And it was only now registering at a hormonal level.
Now that I had seen the outline of his ass and cock, I felt a real curiosity about him sexually; as somebody with a body that might do sexual things.
We spent about 25 minutes longer in the car, and I spent 23 of them staring at my brother's body, with something vaguely approaching desire.
This helped me realize the second thing...
Not only was I going to use my newly discovered sexual power to destroy him, I was going to be able to enjoy it at the same time.
Four
Let's talk about Christmas week, when it all went down.
We had an unusually packed house that year.
Grandparents from both sides of the family came to stay - it was usually just one set or the other. But also Mom's nephew and niece, George and Allison, because their Mom (my aunt) was going through some hard times (the hardest one being that she is an insufferable bitch).
I am the youngest - and the one everybody hates, so I was expected to compromise the most.
I lost my bedroom to our cousins, and had to sleep on the floor of my brother's basement room.
He had the most amazing den down there - with a fridge and pool table, and a video console. It was basically a man cave that smelled like used sneakers and dried cum on a towel.
There was no discussion with me about the fact I would have to share a room with my brother for the week.
Because my family is not a democracy, it's a food chain in which I am the minnow
But you know the worst part?
My brother had a king-sized bed to himself, and I was expected to sleep on the floor - on a series of mismatched sofa cushions - because all our portable beds and bedding were in use by other guests.
It's one of the more outrageous things parents do to their children, when you think about it.
They take guests into their homes - sometimes strangers - and move their kids around like furniture, sacrificing their right to comfort or choice - as if kids don't need privacy, or sleep.
Did it upset me? Damn right it upset me!
But that's not the point I'm trying to make.
I'm trying to show you that in a way my parents started all of this, by forcing me into his private space that Christmas.
That's what made it so simple.
You don't put a male and female bunny in the same hutch, unless you're looking for trouble...
So anyway, our relatives arrive and fill up our house - and let's be honest, we only like about two of them, and bitch about the others when they aren't there. (Families spend the holidays together by circumstance, not because they actually enjoy one another's company).
I hated sleeping on the floor before I even lay down, which was why Dad was so unsympathetic. He kept saying "you haven't given it a go."
But should I give a go at being stabbed in the face too, to be sure I don't fancy that for five nights over Christmas?
I was tossing and turning before I fell asleep that first night.
My back hurt and I was cold.
And I'm sorry, but I was 18 years old - which is a grown-up - and I'd had my freedom stripped away, while my brother was just lying there, all comfortable, in his king sized cloud that could have fit fourteen of him.
Plus, I could hear he was already asleep, which made me even more pissed, so I decided to get into his bed with him.
Because why did it matter when we were only going to be sleeping?
And why was my own night's sleep not as important as everyone else's?
And what better place to corrupt the little dork if I could spend five nights sharing his bed.
So I climbed in, which I didn't think was that big a deal.
And he didn't think it was that big a deal either, because he awoke during the night to pee and happily got back into bed with me, without saying a word.
Then I woke up the next morning at 7 AM or something.
We must have had a tug of war with the bedclothes that I had won, because I was cocooned in them like a silkworm, while my brother had no covers on him at all.
He was wearing pale blue boxer shorts and a t-shirt.
I guess the boxers were loose, or he'd been rolling around in his sleep, but his private parts were sticking out the leg.
His dick was hard. And it looked pretty big.
I had to roll over to investigate - I'm a naturally curious person.
I used to read Nancy Drew mysteries when I was younger, although I'm not sure she investigated this one.
I didn't try to touch it. I only wanted to get a better look.
It was a piece of uncommon wildlife to me.
I was 18 years old, and not getting close-up views of cocks all day long, especially while their owners were asleep and I could soak them in.
So I shuffled over and drank in the view.
A lot of thoughts went through my head...
The main one was just, wow, it was much prettier than I'd imagined.
Not that I'd imagined it much, before the water park anyway.
Christian's not scrawny and he's quite tall and everything, but if I was ever in a police line-up, having to look at faceless men's cocks (for some reason), I would never have matched this one to my brother.
It was very smooth.
See that piece of skin on the inside of your arm? It was softer than that.
I thought dicks had these blue veins and a big beet-red face and were sort of, I don't know, gross.
But his was silken and polished; nothing like the horror show I expected.
It was gorgeous.
I don't know how long I studied it for... Maybe 2 minutes. Maybe 16?
Then he woke up.
"What are you doing?," he said in alarm.
"Your cock is sticking out."
He stuffed it back into the leg of his shorts - which was no easy feat, and covered himself up with the bedclothes.
"Mind your own business!" he said. "What are you doing in my bed?"
"Why did you wake up with a boner?"
"Why are you in my bed?"
"Somebody with a boner for his sister should not be asking questions."
"It's got nothing to do with you. It does its own thing when I'm asleep."
He made it sound like a pet, whose behavior could not be accounted for when left on its own.
"You didn't pull it out did you?" he asked.
"As if I'm going to pull your junk out!" I said, appalled.
"What are you doing in my bed?" he asked again.
"I couldn't sleep on the floor. And when I don't get enough sleep, Mom and Dad say I become an even bigger nightmare... Look at all the space you've got. This bed is like a fucking house... I just want a bit of rest at night so Christmas isn't totally ruined. Is that too much to ask?"
"Yes - if it means waking up with no sheets and you staring at my dick!"
"You need to get over yourself," I said, standing up to get dressed.
I peeled off my pajama bottoms.
I wasn't trying to provoke him. I just thought that if he could see me in my little pink panties, he might find it more acceptable that I'd got to study his junk.
But he wouldn't look up.
Not because he didn't want to, I'm sure. He must have been dying to.
He didn't look up because he wanted to retain control.
You see, self-control is my brother's superpower.
It's the foundation of his discipline and integrity, and inspires the respect he enjoys among family and friends.
It was this rigorous self-control I was going to have to break down.
It was was time to up the ante.
Five
We got on fine-ish for the rest of the day.
It was the night before Christmas Eve, so we probably got distracted by yuletide shit, and incessant relatives - there were so many; it was exhausting to have to interact with them all.
By the time we went to bed it had gone midnight.
We'd been playing Super Mario Kart with our dumb cousins, who were really crap at it.
I was watching my brother get undressed and the convoluted spectacle started to piss me off.
He had taken off his shorts and hidden himself in a wrapped towel while he put on a new pair underneath. Like we were on a public beach.
It was a pathetic display of non-display.
To be honest, it was only this feeble attempt at covering up his body that made me interested in seeing it again.
Like when someone is trying to hide a diary from you, and you suddenly want to read it when you didn't care before.
I felt insulted that my brother would become shy in his own bedroom, in front of his own blood-sister.
Get over yourself dude, I thought. You're going to show me a lot more than your ass by the time I'm done with you.
I waited until he'd climbed into bed, hoping that I might command more of his attention, and then I got undressed.
Except I did it in the exact opposite way to him.
Where he'd been anxious to conceal, I made sure to exhibit and flaunt.
I knew my pajama top was on the other side of the room, so I had to parade over to fetch it with my bare tits out.
Christian did his best acting job of not caring.
But I saw him glance at them.
I wasn't trying to titillate. I wanted to mirror back how dumb his behavior was by being less of a nervous Nancy about my own body.
I put on the shirt I was gonna sleep in, and pulled down my jeans to made sure he got another good view of my ass.
He still wasn't looking, but unlike earlier in the day, I could see him trying to resist.
At least he's not a complete embarrassment of a man, I thought.
It reassured me again that with patience, I could break him.
I removed my panties slowly, revealing my tiny, round butt.
I was facing away, and made sure my shirt stopped at the waist, so that he wouldn't miss a thing.
I picked up my pajama bottoms and put them on, 'accidentally' mis-stepping into the leg twice so that it would take even longer to cover up.
I couldn't monitor him while I did all this, but when I turned around, I saw his eyes quickly dart away - all the evidence I needed he'd been ogling me.
However pissed he might have pretended to be that I'd taken a minor interest in his cock that morning, it was clear he had at least as much interest in what was going on in my own pants.
It felt like a victory, because it confirmed what I'd suspected since the water park; that my body held an allure for him.
It was one of the few things that seemed to have the ability to make him lose his otherwise-level head.
For the first time in a sibling battle that had raged for nearly two decades - in which he had been the victor time and again, and I had endlessly lost - I'd finally discovered his Kryptonite.
And it was my own hot little body.
I got down into my shitty, makeshift bed on the floor - the same one I'd rejected the night before.
I don't think I was in it for 20 seconds before Christian invited me back to his own bed.
Because of course he did.
He tried to play the invite down, like he was sacrificing something to do me a favor.
But when a man invites you into bed after he's been rubbernecking your ass, who do you think is doing who the favor?
My brother was hot for me.
Even if he was still in some sort of weird, sanctimonious denial.
Call it foreplay.
The groundwork had been laid.t was time to start testing my superpower.
Six
When we awoke the next morning, it seemed we'd declared an unconscious truce in the war for the bedclothes.
We were both concealed by sheets.
I found myself wondering if he was hard again.
I could have pulled the covers back and got an instant answer.
But I didn't want to be painted as a weirdo again, so I took my iPhone - which was charging beside me - and I called his phone, which was charging on his desk on the other side of the room.
It rang a couple of times, and I wondered if he was going to ignore it, but he eventually went to grab it.
It seemed from the angle he chose to walk that he was trying to conceal his crotch from me.
But he was less successful on the return journey.
As he carried his phone back to bed - flummoxed as to why he'd just missed a call from his sister - I could see a protrusion in his shorts.
"Why do you have another hard-on?" I asked, with faux-alarm.
"Why did you just call me?"
"Don't change the subject!"
"I told you, it's none of your business!"
"You make it my business when it sticks out for the world to see."
"Why did you just call me?"
"Relax! I was messing with you. Anyone would think you are fantasizing about my pussy all the time."
"Jesus!" he said. "Where do you get this stuff from?"
"The internet," I said. "And by the way, I'm not the one in a state of visible arousal around my sister. So I might get off your high horse."
"If you don't stop this sex stuff, I'll have to tell Mom we can't share a room."
"Maybe it would be safer to not have me in the house at all?" I said. "Should we chain me to a fence outside?"
"You make everything so extreme."
"I haven't learned the art of subtlety like you," I said, "walking around with a tent peg jutting out from your waist, and blaming everyone who notices it. How big is it anyway?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Not big, then."
"How does that follow?"
"If it was big, you'd just say yes."
"It's seven inches," he said proudly.
"Seven inches?"
I began laughing hysterically.
"Seven inches!" he said, growing red.
"Don't forget I've seen it!"
"You don't have a tape measure in your eyes!"
"No, but my spatial awareness is excellent. Remember when I told Mom to get the shorter couch for the living room and I was right?"
"Irrelevant," he said.
"There's a tape measure on your desk. Why don't we lay this to rest?"
"We're not measuring my dick."
"Definitely four or less then," I said.
This made him so mad.
"To be honest Chris, on the basis of the little I saw yesterday, I'm not confident it'smore than three."
"Don't be a moron," he said, "three inches is the length of your thumb."
"Sounds about right."
It was working, because he was getting irrationally upset.
"Next time a girl you like asks me, I'll have to tell her it's four inches at best," I said.
"As if anyone would ever ask you."
"Then why don't you prove it? Measure it for me. If it's bigger than four, I won't have to embarrass you the next time people ask."
"Dammit!" he said, and stuck his hand under the sheets to begin fluffing himself.
"What are you doing?" I asked, with pretend shock.
"I need to get hard."
I guess I had killed his previous boner.
His face became one of intense focus while frenetic activity took place beneath the sheets.
I suppose it's tricky for a man to rise to the occasion when he's under pressure, but it was taking forever.
"Come on," I said, "you're not going to grow another inch by tugging at it."
"Don't talk," he said, his face scrunched into a ball.
"Perhaps if I give you some visual stimulus?" I said, and flashed him my boobs.
"Don't show me those!" he said.
Although his eyes feasted.
The tits must've worked, because he was confident enough to pull the sheets away.
He clambered onto his knees on the bed.
And then he was sliding down his shorts, and letting his stiff cock spring free triumphantly, while he beamed at me from ear to ear.
He was so proud of it, bless him.
It was like the time he came second in a violin contest.
His cock was beautiful too, sticking straight up in the air.
"Quick," he said, "grab the tape measure!"
I ambled over to his desk and brought it back as slowly as possible.
My brother was jerking himself to stay hard.
What pathetic creatures men are, I thought. Especially the specimen that was my brother.
I pulled the tape measure out of its snail shell and stretched out some tape.
"No, you've got to start at the base," he complained, before I'd even positioned it.
"You're already trying to cheat?"
"No, you're trying to cheat! You have to measure from the base to the tip."
"OK, I said, "you asked for it. But don't accuse me of getting handsy if you want me to get the tape measure that close."
"Just hurry up," he said, as if the slightest delay would drain vital inches from his stiffy.
It was pretty clear, before I had the measure in place, that he was close to 7 inches. 6.86 to be precise.
But I wasn't about to hand over any compliments.
I suggested it was around the five mark.
"Oh Jesus, don't give me that," he said, furiously, wanking himself and demanding I come in closer with the tape measure.
"Hold it closer," he said. "No, closer than that!"
He wasn't content until my fingers were holding one end of the tape at his balls, while my other hand was pressing it directly against the soft flesh of his boner.
My thumb and forefinger. On his dick.
"There," he said, finally. "What does that say, what does that say? Seven inches!"
"All I know is that you've got me touching your cock," I said. "That's basically grooming."
"Don't twist it," he said, pulling his shorts up. "I was trying to prove you're full of shit. You're such a pain in the ass!"
"Sure the pain is in your ass?" I asked, smiling, like a Bond villain.
He was so irritated, he could barely look at me.
He got out of bed and put on some jeans.
"Maybe that 5 inch boner of yours needs to let off some steam?" I said.
He flipped me the bird and went upstairs.
I lay there for a while, smiling at the progress I'd already made.
And thinking about his beautiful cock.
It was going to be fun to have it inside me.
Seven
Christmas Eve was exhausting.
There was far too much interaction with clueless relatives, far too few chairs for everyone to sit in, and my Mom was stressed to her eyeballs, providing near-endless crudités, like she was working out of a sweatshop.
After lunch our cousins came down to my brother's basement and we played Mortal Kombat 11.
Our cousins, Allison and George, were 18 and 21 respectively. I wish I had something interesting to say about them, other than that they both have red hair.
My brother and I were much better at the game.
To begin with, our cousins watched while we played, but then it was their turn to play and their game was deathly dull.
It was an apt metaphor for the whole Christmas - basically the *real* family having to take a back seat for no sensible reason, while visiting "family" stole away our rights.
At one point I saw my brother adjust the crotch of his pants.
"Something going on down there?" I asked, with a smirk
"Shh," he said. "You're like the narrator of my balls."
"If only there was an interesting story to tell about them."
He glared at me, and then over at our cousins, as if to say are you going to talk like this in front of them?
But they weren't paying attention. They were caught up in the game.
Christian went to the en-suite bathroom, and was gone for longer than it takes to pee.
When he returned, he didn't love my first question:
"Did you bust a nut?"
"What is wrong with you?"
"That wasn't a no."
"No, I did not!"
"It's just that you were so worked up earlier. I'm surprised you didn't fix your blue balls."
"I don't have blue balls," he said, continually trying to set a quieter volume for the exchange.
"I'm just curious, since you jerked off in front of me this morning, when you plan to release the splooge?"
"It's none of your business," he said. "Stop talking about it! You're obsessed!"
"You can't produce any, can you?"
"I wasn't trying to," he said.
"Because you know it would be a shameful trickle?"
"No."
"Well, do you cum a lot? Or not?"
"I don't want to talk about it," he said, in an even more clandestine tone.
"Not much then."
"God, you're annoying, that's not what I said!"
In a sudden bellow to our cousins, he announced: "I am going to play the winner of this game!"
"Doesn't seem right," I replied, equally aloud. "For a loser to play the winner."
"Look," he said, and grabbed my arm for a second.
It was exciting to see him have a bit of spunk for once.
"I've had enough of you today!" His voice went back to a whisper. "You're out of control and you need to reign it in, or I'm going to have to... talk to Mom."
Talk to Mom. He made it sound like call the police.
"We're over 18," I said. "Good luck with that!"
Although I was a bit worried, in truth.
Mom had got the wrong idea about me from stuff that had happened before; at school, at home, at college, and at camp (twice) - and just from life with me generally.
Mom believes that even with my medication, I can be a monster at times.
And she's the one who loves me most!
She's the one who sent me to you.
Is it okay if I take a quick leak, by the way?
I'll be right back.
Eight
Most of us watched a dumb Christmas movie that night.
We drank sherry and did a bunch of generic tedious family Christmas shit, and my brother and I didn't go to bed until gone midnight.
It was a bummer, because then he wanted to go straight to sleep.
I don't believe in going to sleep on an argument, so I tried to make things better with a grown up apology:
"I'm really sorry, Christian," I told him sincerely.
He seemed astonished; as if a Christmas miracle had occurred - which is typical of the expectations my family have of me.
"For what?" he asked.
"I'm sorry I wasn't more sympathetic."
"To what?" he asked, growing suspicious.
"That you can't produce any sperm."
"What's this now?"
"They're little fish produced in your nut sac that swim... "
"I know what they are. And I have plenty."
"They haven't dried up?"
"Nothing has dried up. And once again, it's none of your business!"
"I think you have no sperm, and can't get any to come out. But it's OK. It's a condition I read about called Empty Ball Syndrome. Usually happens to virgins with not very big dicks."
"Fuck you!" he said, but added, "what are the symptoms?" out of cautious concern.
"The guy gets hard but no fluid spurts out. Apart from pee, of course. But not the good stuff."
"That's ridiculous," he said, after contemplating for a moment. "It's a made up condition. And you're the only one claiming nothing but pee comes out my..."
I didn't interrupt him, he simply refused to say it aloud.
"Shall I just take your word for it?" I said. "Like the time I took your word you hadn't stolen my GameBoy? Or the time you said you kissed Rebecca Chrysler and she told my friends you were lying?"
"Why do you always bring that up?"
"Because when somebody lies once, they usually lie again."
He looked like he wanted to throttle me - which was a good sign, because it usually preceded him wanting to prove whatever it was he thought I was lying about.
"I have zero problems in that area," he said, "and you don't need to be worrying about it. You're my sister and it's weird."
"If anything, people with Empty Ball syndrome should be respected for their courage," I said.
"I do not have empty balls," he said, and even more aggressively this time, he grabbed my arm and held it tightly. "My balls are stacked-full! I have no problem down there."
"Must be true if you say so. With your history of only ever saying true things, how could I disbelieve you?"
"I swear to God you'll drive me insane," he said, furiously, and began unbuckling the belt of his jeans.
"Keep your voice down," I said. "You're going to wake everyone in the house."
He was pale in the face and clammy around the temples as he yanked his jeans and underwear down, as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do in front of his younger sister.
His dick wasn't hard.
It was smaller and acorn-ier than I'd ever seen it.
But he began rubbing it with his eyes shut, and it started to inflate slowly.
I figured I would sit down, seeing as I knew this could take some time.
"Having trouble getting hard, are we?" I couldn't resist asking, in case it was helpful.
He ignored me and shut his eyes tightly.
"Because if you can't get it up, that might explain why you can't get anything to come out."
"Shh," he said, his face a ball of concentration.
I can't remember how long it took - and it was quite fun to watch, so it didn't matter - but he eventually grew more erect; and soon enough his big cock was bolt upright.
I think his anger had subsided, because he didn't seem as livid anymore; and although there was more sweat on his brow now than before, it seemed to be from pleasure rather than stress.
I sat there patiently, watching him play with himself in earnest.
After he'd stroked his cock for several minutes, he got close to the edge.
In a pitch several octaves higher than his speaking voice, he announced: "Okay! Watch this!"
I had to move out of the way in case it hit me, as his cock unleashed an astonishing projectile of cum in one singular eruption, the way fork-lightning strikes.
It was more than I had ever seen.
But it wasn't the first in a series of emissions, like any normal person; it was more like an ejaculation of the entire contents of his balls in one go.
The cum-eruption rocketed about 4 feet across the room and landed on the wooden floorboards, as a milky squid.
He was gasping from the release, but interrupted it with his own vindication.
"You see?" he said, breathlessly. "Empty balls, my ass!"
His still-stiff cock was dripping semen like a beer tap.
"They might be empty now," I said.
"Well, they weren't empty before," he said, pulling his underwear up, and not bothering with his jeans.
He went to brush his teeth in the bathroom, which he did with the door open.
He was sickeningly triumphant.
"Why did it come out all at once?" I asked.
"That's your problem now?"
"Not a problem. Just saying it's a bit weird."
Secretly I was quite impressed with the volume and force of his ejaculation.
But I wasn't about to massage an already-inflated ego.
"You said my balls were empty and I proved they are not. End of discussion, you were wrong!"
"If you say so, dude. But I want to make clear that since we awoke this morning, you have shown me your cock twice, jerked off in front of me twice, made me touch it with my own innocent hands, and now blown an entire milkshake in one burst. All over the bed I'm supposed to be sleeping in."
This last part was not true, but it sounded dramatic.
"It's not like I wasn't going to let you sleep in my bed again," he said.
"Ah! So you jizzed all over my bed to get me into yours?"
He was too tired to argue.
He got into bed and adopted a position that suggested he was falling asleep, or dying.
I brushed my teeth and came back to lie next to him.
I turned out the bedside light so that we were in the dark.
"Merry Christmas," I said, remembering.
"Merry Christmas," he said, begrudgingly at first; and then, after reflecting: "Yeah. Merry Christmas."
Nine
Whether it was because we'd gone to bed so late the night before, or because we weren't kids anymore, Christmas Day had lost its squeal-inducing excitement.
Mom had to call downstairs to wake us that morning.
"Hurry up," she said. "We want to start opening gifts!"
I leapt up instantly - in the spirit of seeming to respond to her summons - and stripped off my pajamas.
I pretended to busy myself selecting an outfit for the day from two piles of clothes I had brought down.
I don't know when he noticed me, because I was focused on picking out the perfect Christmas day outfit, holding up little tops to my naked body and assessing them in the floor length mirror.
At one point I perched on the arm of the chair, pretending to assess a stack of leggings, while allowing my thighs to casually drift apart.
When I glanced over, I saw he was looking directly at my pussy, which I'm not ashamed to admit, was wet.
"Oh my God!" I said, slamming my thighs shut with a clap. "I can't believe you were staring at your sister's cunt. Is there no end to your creepiness?"
"Then get changed in the bathroom!" he said. "You're the one choosing to sit there with it winking at me."
"You don't even deny it!" I said, astonished at how brazen he'd become, while noting it was good progress.
"Well, hurry up," I said, covering myself up with the outfit I'd known I was going to wear all along. "Everyone's waiting for us upstairs."
Christian seemed reluctant to get out of bed, which made me pressure him further.
"Come on!" I said. "Everyone in the house is going to think you're a loser because you can't get out of bed on Christmas Day."
He acquiesced and stood up.
He had a massive hard-on in his shorts.
"You filthy fucker," I said. "Staring at my pussy and getting all worked up. On Christmas, of all days! The day our Christ was born. You think that's appropriate behavior?"
Unusually, he didn't rise to the bait.
He chose to get dressed in private; grabbing a clean pair of shorts and t-shirt and taking them into the bathroom, where he closed the door.
"Bit late to start hiding now," I said through the wall. "It's like closing the gate after the horse has already jerked off in front of you."
When he took longer than 60 seconds to reappear, I added for good measure: "And don't beat off in there. Your tiny dick and empty balls need some recovery time."
***
Christmas Day was the sort of thing other people describe as fun.
For me, it was tedious and strenuously civil. Everyone on their best behavior, pretending to enjoy themselves and one another's company.
My brother bought me a Swiss Army knife - an incredibly dumb and disappointing gift, although I did imagine the bottle opener would come in handy for drowning my sorrows at some point.
The rest of the day was lame as fuck.
Even the food made everybody bloated and sick. It always does.
My grandparents don't have the constitution to digest a piece of lettuce, let alone all that Christmas bullshit.
There was one fun moment though, during dessert, when one of my grandmas put Christian on the spot by asking if he had a nice young girlfriend.
"He doesn't," I answered for him.
I could see Chris about to start stammering - he'd gone crimson in the face just from hearing the question.
"No young girl you are interested in?" asked Grammy, "a nice attractive young man like you?"
"He's afraid of girls," I explained.
"Sara!" my Mom said sternly.
"What? It's supposed to be a secret?"
"Sara, that's enough!" said Mom.
My brother eventually found a flimsy voice, from his armpit or somewhere:
"I'm focusing on my studies right now," he said. "I want to get a placement at a good law firm after college, so I can't be distracted."
The attendees at the table cooed their sycophantic approval.
"Spoken like a successful attorney," said Dad, beaming with pride.
Spoken like a virgin, I thought.
"You have excellent self-control," said Grandpa. "People get caught up in matters of the heart too early."wasn't sure what the heart had to do with why my brother couldn't get laid. But maybe Grandpa meant heart euphemistically.
Why was everyone so enamored with this bullshit?
Was there a vow of chastity taken by legal trainees that I had forgotten about?
I couldn't wait to rip my brother about it later.
Ten
When we were alone in his room that night, I brought it up:
"Sorry if I spoke out of turn when Grammy asked why you don't have a girlfriend."
He pushed the bathroom door open. He was in a pair of shorts and brushing his teeth.
"You didn't have to say anything!" he said angrily, toothpaste frothing at the corners of his lips. "Why can't you keep your mouth shut?"
It came out like he had a speech impediment.
"Wow. I was looking out for you," I said. "No need to thank me!"
"You're so shady," he said, after spitting in the basin. "You gaslight about everything so it seems like everyone else is crazy and you are all innocent, but the reality is..."
"Reality? What the fuck do you know about reality? Seriously bro, why are you still a virgin at 20? And don't give me that, 'I'm saving myself for a law degree,' crap. Remember when you tried to claim you defeated the Level 5 boss in Legend of Zelda? I was the one who knew you didn't have it in you. So tell me. Why can't you get laid?"
"I'm not trying to," he said. "I don't want a relationship!"
"Who's talking about a relationship? I'm asking why you don't get your dick sucked, or eat some pussy?"
He had nothing.
"Let's say Leanna from your law class - the one you claim is just a friend - comes over one day to work on some legal theory crap that you two nerds give a fuck about, and she peels off her legal uniform, removes her panties, spreads her little pink pussy and begs you to stick your cock inside her. What do you do?"
"I'm not playing along with this thought experiment.," he said.
"It's Christmas. Humor me. What would you do if that actually happened? Would you be like, 'oh no Leanna, stop, we need to get back to the legal ramifications of blah blah vs who cares.' Or would you pull your cock out - like you don't seem to be able to stop doing around me - and stick it in her wet little hole?"
My brother's face was pinker than I'd painted Leanna's imaginary pussy.
"I would probably say I don't want to spoil our working relationship," he said.
"Answer me straight. Are you afraid of girls?"
"No!"
"Are you attracted to girls?"
"Yes!"
"Would you let your friend Leanna drop to her knees and suck your cock if she begged to?"
"Probably, yes!"
" Finally! I don't know why you couldn't just admit that 10 minutes ago, like any other man on the planet. So, the reason you are still a virgin is because you've never had an opportunity to not be one. Correct?"
He didn't disagree.
"There's nothing wrong with having no game, or feeling shy," I said. "It's more honest than that crap about waiting until you're the Lincoln Lawyer. I'm just encouraging you to be honest with yourself."
"You have nothing but my best interests in mind," he said, unconvinced.
"Have you ever touched a girl?"
"Of course!"
"I don't mean her arm in a cardigan. Have you ever touched her flesh?"
"Sure."
"When?"
"I can't remember."
"Seems like you'd remember."
"I can't remember a particular example."
"Because there are so many?"
"No."
"Have you touched a girl's tits?"
"Um... "
"Have you fingered a girl?"
"I've made out with three girls."
"I believe you. I'm asking if you've touched their private parts? Yes or no?"
"Perhaps through fabric, one of those times."
"You can't say it, can you? I told you it's better to be honest than make things up."
"OK," he said, "I've never touched a woman's private parts. Are you happy?"
"No. I'm devastated for you. It's like you've only bought candy from the bottom shelf. Sadly I will have to tell everyone that you've never touched a girl."
"You bitch!" he said. "You forced me to admit it! You said you'd respect my honesty. Now you threaten to tell everyone?"
"Everyone already knows. I'm threatening to corroborate."
He made a noise that could only be described as an ejaculation of frustration. It had no words and was directed everywhere.
"How are you so annoying?" he said, when it was done. "It's like you've elevated it to an art form."
"Well, when you get that law degree - the one that's apparently why you're afraid of pussy - you can sue me!
I paused for dramatic effect...
"Or we could just settle this here."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you have a girl in your bed right now. And I don't want to sound too full of myself, but she's not un-hot."
"We're related," he said, pretending to find the notion distasteful.
"But if somebody asks if you've touched a girl, it would still be true. You could just omit the part about which girl."
"I shouldn't be touching my sister in private places. And you shouldn't want me to."
"Want you to? Ew! I'm trying to help you... Look, we don't even need to be talking about this, give me your hand..."
He wouldn't hand it to me.
I took it from above the covers and moved the two of our arms underneath.
He didn't resist.
I slid his fingers under the waistband of my pajamas and guided them onto my pussy, which had been drenched for at least the last 10 minutes.
I can't lie; it felt delicious.
"Now you've touched one. Problem solved! Wait, what are you doing?"
He was pulling his fingers away.
"You can't touch it once and be done. Play with it some more!"
"No, this is wrong," he said.
I seized his hand and returned it between my legs.
This time I helped him insert two of his fingers into my crack, until they'd reached the knuckle.
Finally he seemed to get it, and his eyes lit up in a way I'd never seen before.
"Holy shit," he said.
"Right? Imagine what your dick feels like in one of these."
"It's like the inside of a mouth. Only more..."
I taught his hand how to masturbate me, and then I let him do it all by himself.
I felt it appropriate to make encouraging sounds of pleasure here and there, just to assist with his education.
And sooner or later - I know it sounds unlikely, but my brother was making me cum.
It wasn't a half-bad orgasm either.
He had this unexpected ability to get the pressure right, so that his hand wasn't limp as my pussy was convulsing.
I began to see stars, and clamped his fingers between my legs as the waves crashed through me.
When we were done, I almost didn't hate him for a moment.
Eleven
"Well, there you go," I said, removing my his sticky fingers from my pajamas. "Nobody can ever say you haven't touched a girl."
He seemed less interested in that now.
"Did I do it good?" he asked.
He couldn't stop grinning goofily.
"You were alright," I said. "Don't get carried away. You're not getting five stars on Yelp. You're still a useless virgin."
He seemed tipsy from the drug of getting me off.
"Did it make you hard?" I asked, reaching down to touch his shorts.
It did.
"And now you want the favor returned? Is that it? I'm not jerking you off, Christian."
"I didn't ask."
"You don't have to," I said, grabbing the bulge in his shorts again and waggling it. "This here is like Pinocchio's nose. It tells the truth when you are lying."
Right on cue, it started to grow bigger in my palm.
I slid my hand into his shorts and started to tug at the warm flesh.
"This is not a good idea!" he protested, while happily beginning to fuck the O of my fist.
Soon his concerns about how we shouldn't be doing this melted away.
He stopped speaking and made elongated vowel sounds instead.
I used my free hand to play with his balls - not because I cared about his pleasure, of course, but because it was part of the Kool-Aid I needed him to drink.
I was surprised by how much he let himself get into it.
He seemed to forget where he was, or who I was; or what any of his previous complaints had been.
Law degree-abstinence, my ass, I thought.
He started to buck his hips and pump my fist more vigorously.
A pearl of nectar emerged from the mouth of his cock.
Before long it wasn't just one bubble, but a slime-trail of pre-cum, creating a stream down the side of his shaft, and gathering in the nook of my fist.
"You're about to blow," I told him.
He couldn't speak. His face was a mask of stress and bliss.
But he didn't disagree.
His testicles were getting tighter and smaller, until they all but disappeared inside his body.
And his cock - well, it may have broken the seven inch barrier. Although I wasn't about to tell him that.
I wasn't invested in any of this emotionally, I don't do emotions.
But anatomically, it was quite interesting - the way his genitals continued to grow and transform, the closer he got to expunging the contents of his balls.
I could tell his splooge was about to catapult out of him.
His hair was matted in sweat, despite the cool temperature of the room; his cock was almost as purple as his face; and so, at this critical juncture...
I stopped.
He opened his eyes and looked at me.
I rolled over to my side of the bed, nestled my head comfortably into the pillow, and turned out the light.
"Good night," I said. "Merry Christmas!"
I could hear him breathing in the darkness.
It sounded like the aftermath of an asthma attack.
I knew he was dying to say something but it took forever.
"Sara?" he said eventually.
"What is it?" I asked, irritated; as if I'd been drifting off.
"I guess, I wondered why..."
"You're such a big dork?"
"Why you stopped?"
"Was I supposed to keep doing it forever? Shall I not sleep any more and devote myself to the needs of your balls?"
" It's just that it was about to feel really good"
"Oh wow, it didn't feel good yet?"
"No, it felt amazing - I mean, it was wrong of us... but I was just about to... "
He was blabbering at this point.
"It's going to be hard to get to sleep... " he said.
"Christian," I said, getting serious for a moment. I may have even sat up in bed. "Can you hear yourself? You're trying to persuade your sister to give you an orgasm, and you can't even say the word. You spent most of the night saying it's weird for us to touch each other, and now you are pressurizing me to get you off. Does that sound healthy?"
"It doesn't," he said, remorsefully. "And everything you say is true. We shouldn't be doing this. I didn't start it, and I didn't want it. But now..."
"You've changed your mind?"
"I don't know," he said, "it's just that we were in the middle of something that seemed to be leading somewhere, and then you stopped."
"Maybe your arguments sank in," I said, "and I saw the light."
"Go to sleep," he said, sadly.
I might have felt bad for him, if I felt anything at all.
But he was rapidly becoming a shadow of his former, buttoned-up self.
So everything was going according to plan.
Twelve
Christian awoke before me the next morning.
I pretended to still be asleep and surveyed him through a crack in my eyelid.
His cock was hard when he stepped out of bed, and although he did first check that I was still asleep - which I wasn't, but pretended to be - he seemed less bothered about hiding his nudity.
In fact, it looked like he was parading in front of me on purpose.
He pulled his t-shirt off, as well as his boxers, and stood there naked - barely three feet from the bed - with his big hard-on sticking up like a periscope.
It seemed to be getting more impressive on a daily basis. Frustration was a good look on him.
I could feel my pussy getting damp at the sight, and I was only half squinting at it from one closed eye.
He was ostensibly selecting underwear and a shirt, but he took a suspiciously long time to choose either garment, and his stiff cock was going nowhere in the meantime.
I know what this is, I thought. I was the one who invented it.
He was pulling a me; hoping that I might wake up to accidentally, witness, and be aroused by, his naked body.
This was starting to get dangerous.
I couldn't have my brother thinking he held any allure for me.
It would counterbalance the power I had over him.
Eventually, I 'woke up' naturally - my eyes flickering open to adjust to daylight, and my arms stretching out in an attempted demonstration of convincing human behavior.
"What are you doing?" I asked, pretending to notice his sad face watching me.
"Nothing," he said. "I didn't sleep very well."
"I slept like a princess," I said, and it was true.
I climbed out of bed and walked over to my stack of clothes.
I removed my pajamas, and walked around naked for a while, just like he had; pretending to select my outfit for the day.
I kept thinking I might want to wear one of the shirts at the bottom of the pile, which meant having to bend over, so that I was virtually folded in two.
I made sure that my bare ass was presented to him each time.
As I leaned down to fetch the last shirt, I could see through the gap in my legs that he was staring at my pussy.
He was getting more brazen.
I covered up my body, seeing as it had delivered the desired effect.
I couldn't help but notice his cock was still hard in his shorts.
I went into the bathroom, but didn't spend too long in there. I didn't want to give him time to take care of his erection.
When I emerged, he was standing at the bathroom door.
I thought he was waiting to go in.
But he was waiting for me.
He pushed me up against the wall; brought his face in close, and looked down at my little body.
I thought he was going to grab my tits or put his hand between my legs... something. But he chickened out at the last minute, and let me go.
"Pathetic," I said.
I put on jeans and a tank top.
He stood there with a great boner, looking at me furiously, but unable to say anything.
I had broken him.
"Are you just going to stand there like a scarecrow with a hard-on?" I asked. "Or are you going to come and have breakfast?"
He didn't move; just looked at me with Basset Hound eyes.
"See you up there," I said.
***
He was in a weird mood for the rest of the day.
He wouldn't stop staring at me.
At one point my nipples got hard because I had to take the trash out, and he couldn't take his eyes off them.
He'd gone from being a hapless virgin to a sister-thirsty zombie in less than 72 hours. It would have been impressive if he'd managed to have any game.
But he was pathetic in both guises - virgin and seducer.
And this new guise - the horny teenager who couldn't stop lusting after his sister's body, was the creepiest yet.
I know it was my desire to bring about such an effect, but I'd spawned Frankenstein's monster.
Thirteen
Lunch was a banquet of leftovers.
The family had been together for so many days that even the conversation felt like something we'd half-eaten several times already.
My brother and I were sat next to each other on two small chairs that didn't belong to the dining table set, so we were forced to be several inches lower than everyone else at the table.
I'm already quite short, so it was pretty much only my head peeking out over a bowl of cold Brussel sprouts.
Christian was quieter than usual, even with our tedious family members asking him questions.
He was oddly monosyllabic and unenthused - perhaps from a lack of sleep; although he seemed acutely aware of my presence, because rather than ignore me as usual, he kept whispering things under his breath.
I can't remember what any of them were.
Just dumb jokes and stuff, but it was as though he felt he and I were in some sort of secret cult.
In truth, of course, I would never join any cult that permitted my brother as a member.
I grew super-bored during dessert, when my relatives began arguing about politics.
Between them, they were either too stupid, too prejudiced - or in the case of my grandparents, too demented - to have anything interesting to say, let alone an original opinion.
I wanted to leave the table, but I knew Dad would not permit it while someone was still eating - even when that someone was Grandma, taking seven hours to finish a sliver of lemon meringue pie.
So I sat there, twiddling my thumbs in boredom, until I noticed the crotch of my brothers cargo pants beneath the tablecloth, and got the naughty idea to twiddle something else.
I reached over and unzipped his fly.
He looked at me, completely astounded.
He zipped himself back up, and said something under his breath that was so dull I can't remember it.
I unzipped his fly again. Less than 30 seconds later.
"Stop it," he said, practically spitting the words at me; still under his breath.
He zipped himself back up.
"Christian, what do you think of the new Attorney General?" one of our Grandmas suddenly asked.
This was perfect, because it stole his attention and made him unable to intervene in what I was doing beneath the table.
So I didn't just unzip his fly this time, I unbuttoned his boxers and slid my hand in the opening.
He became flustered mid sentence to Grandma: "The problem with local GOVernMENTT is that they don't know HOW TOOO..."
He had become a stammering wreck as I began to fluff his squishy little dick.
At one point he lost his train of thought completely, and my relatives might have imagined he was high on something.
But he couldn't stop me without drawing attention to the thing he most wanted to conceal; so he continued trying to make a natural conclusion to his absurd point, while everybody listened attentively.
Grandma, then Gramps, and even Dad, kept challenging his arguments, or asking for clarification, because he was making less sense than usual, which meant the spotlight remained on him for longer.
I wasn't wanking him, by the way. I was just holding his cock and rubbing at the underside of his glans with my thumb.
But he had grown quite hard, despite the palpable anxiety.
I carefully pulled his shaft out the button-hole of his boxers, so that now he was sat at the dining table with his big stiff cock out - unbeknownst to our eight relatives - while his younger sister held it in her hand.
"Tell us more about your thoughts on the Supreme Court decision," I asked - not giving a flying fuck about such a thing, of course, but wanting to prolong his trauma.
"I've spoken enough," he said, bashfully. "I don't know that much."
He was quite red faced.
"Nonsense," said Grandma, pretending to be impressed. "You have sensible views in that head of yours."
She might have meant one sensible view. And she was, of course, mistaken.
"Thank you," said Christian. His voice cracking into a high register.
"Do you need some water?" I asked.
"No!" he said. It came out wobbly.
Finally, Grandma had consumed as much of the pie-slice as her minuscule stomach could accommodate.
Mom got up to remove the dishes from the table.
"Could you help me, Sara?" she asked.
"Of course, Mama," I said, getting up immediately, and releasing my grip on my brother's cock.
"Are you alright?" I asked him with concern. "Seems like you might be having a hot flash."
"I'm fine," he said, fumbling with his pants beneath the table.
"You seem very pink," I said. "Perhaps you should lie down."
It's possible he hated me more in that moment than ever before.
But I knew he'd be desperate for me to play with him again later.
And I had a treat planned.
Fourteen
Later that afternoon we were playing video games with our cousins in the basement.
While Christian and cousin George were playing a tediously long game of Mortal Kombat: Shaolin Monks, and Allison was sitting on the bed next to me, I decided to ask a pertinent question:
"So, are you both virgins or what?"
George glanced anxiously back at his sister - I don't know why, but they didn't seem to trust me.
"I'm not a virgin," said George matter-of-factly, if not especially confidently.
"Neither am I," said his sister, a little more embarrassed, but more convincingly.
"So I guess the four of us in this room are not virgins, right?"
There was silence.
"Is that right?" I asked again, and when nobody answered, I said: "There are no virgins in here, are there Chris?"
He was pretending to be ensconced in the game, but his red face said otherwise.
A few moments later, after he had lost his final life, he glared back at me as if I'd been responsible.
"Winner stays on," said George, triumphantly. "You're up, Allie!"
His sister took the console and switched places with my brother, who came to join me on the bed.
Christian looked like he wanted to say something, but he was too angry to get the words out, or perhaps didn't dare within earshot of our cousins.
The best he managed in a clandestine tone was to tell me I'd been pissing him off all day.
"And yet you're dying to fuck me," I whispered.
"Shut up!" he said.
We had to lie there for about 20 minutes, watching our cousins play the game in the most inept way imaginable.
Our grandparents would have exhibited more skill.
At one point my brother seemed to be looking at Allison's body. Her tits were jiggling around as she smashed at the controller.
"Perv," I whispered.
He made out like he didn't know what I was talking about.
"Are there any women in this family you don't want to fuck?" I said.
He glared as if to say shh, our cousins will hear.
"So the answer's no," I said.
George and my brother started reminiscing about an old platform game they had once owned.
"That was such a cool game," said George.
"The best," said Christian. "I might still have it somewhere," and he disappeared into the walk-in closet to try and locate the cartridge.
His closet is the size of a huge, en-suite dressing room, and filled with storage items belonging to the whole family.
He didn't return immediately, so I decided he might need a helping hand.
I entered the closet and found him around the corner, scavenging in a plastic bin of game cartridges and random electronics.
"Can I help?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it," he said dismissively.
It was sad he had such little faith in me.
I figured if he didn't need help finding the game, perhaps I could make myself useful with one of his other concerns.
So I unfastened his pants, and pulled out his soft dick.
"Stop it!" he said aggressively, but under his breath; and tried to zip himself back up.
I tried to prevent this, and a tug-of-war-of-fingers ensued.
I lost interest in the mechanics of his zipper and simply yanked his cargo pants and boxers down so that his little cock sprang free again.
I pushed them right to his ankles.
He was really mad.
It was almost as though he didn't want to me to play with his junk - which he'd been begging me to do for days, as you know.
So I dropped to my knees and popped the flaccid little sausage - all of it - into my mouth.
This shut him up.
It seemed to freeze him into stunned silence, as if he'd been tasered.
He stopped struggling completely.
And didn't move.
He just watched in speechless astonishment as his sister sucked on his limp prick, like a humbug, engulfed entirely in her mouth.
He came to his senses a bit, because he began to protest softly and try to pull away. But it was a half-assed attempt, and he didn't stand a chance.
I had him cornered against the wall, trapped by storage shelves on either side.
However much he wanted to pretend to rebel, it was an empty effort, and his pathetic cock began to stiffen inside my mouth, until it wasn't so pathetic anymore.
It had grown hard and delicious.
It was so big that I was forced to eject a lot of it from my lips.
But I pulled out a bunch of other tricks instead - slurping greedily at the tip, and bouncing his fat head on my extended tongue.
I don't care how anxious or annoyed he might have been prior to that moment. He was a helpless puppy again now.
He watched in wonder as I slobbered over his cock; our cousins just a few feet away through the wall.
He was getting so into it that he started to embrace the assault.
"That feels so good!" he whispered.
He was fucking my mouth more vigorously, with little regard for my own preferred cadence.
I could feel the tidal wave of his impending orgasm - apparently the same orgasm I'd been edging him towards for days.
His knees started to quiver. It might have been endearing in other circumstances.
"Oh fu..!" he began to say, which I took as my cue that the trigger had been cocked.
Pulling him quickly out of my mouth, I called out as loudly as I could:
"Allison! George! Can you come and help us for a sec?"
My brother looked at me in disbelief.
"Sure!" one, or both, of the cousins called back.
Christian frantically pulled up his pants from his ankles, and secured his hard-on back inside.
He was just re-zipping his fly when George and Allison rounded the corner.
"What do you need?" one of them asked. It doesn't matter which one.
"Could you help us get that big box down?" I asked, pointing to a random storage container on a hard-to-reach shelf.
"Sure," they said, and began to navigate the task of retrieving the oversized box.
My brother supervised the meaningless task.
But he found moments to glare back at me.
Lust can drive men to the brink... Even brothers.
Our cousins eventually placed a large, dusty pallet down in front of me; one or other of them coughing wildly.
"Oh god, no," I said, barely glancing into it. "That's old books. Put it back!"
Fifteen
My brother was obsessed for the rest of the day.
Wherever I was in a room, if I thought to glance over, he would be staring back; his expression a cocktail of lust and hatred.
The hatred so real that it seemed to magnify the lust, which only made him angrier and hornier.
It was like I was god and the devil at the same time.
I could tell he wanted to punish and control me; to pin me down and fuck me, or stick his cock down my throat and make me gag.
But in reality he was soft clay in my hands. Or more accurately, wet mush.
Much like my power over his limp dick, I was the only thing that gave him strength anymore.
He was like a cobra in my basket, powerless not to dance.
I'd never seen him so out of sorts during conversations with our relatives that night.
We watched a Star Wars film together as a family - which is, like, his favorite thing on the planet, because he's a nerd - but he was totally distracted and uninterested.
"Are you alright Chris?" I asked at one point, loudly, in front of everyone.
"I'm fine," he said.
"You seem quiet," I said.
I took the temperature of his forehead with the back of my hand.
"Stop commenting on everything," he said, slapping my arm away, "nobody asked you."
"Christian!" said Mom. "Don't treat your sister like that. She's being kind."
If his eyes had been lasers, he might have incinerated me with a glance.
***
By the time it was bedtime, I almost felt apprehensive about being alone with him.
He had become a little feral, and I wasn't sure he could be trusted to share a bed with his cute sister anymore.
How could I be sure I was safe?
I'm not going to lie... I felt a thrill at the idea I might not be.
I'd been making myself horny all night, remembering the sensation of his thick cock pounding my face.
Christian went down and got ready for bed first, as I lingered in the kitchen, picking at the last slab of lemon meringue pie in the fridge.
By the time I arrived, he was sat on his bed in a t-shirt and shorts, apparently waiting for me.
I could tell from the atmosphere that he wanted to hold a conference.
He patted the bed for me to sit down next to him.
"It's getting late," I said, breaking into a fake-yawn. "I'm gonna take a shower."
I had a deliberately long, relaxing shower, and then put on a vest top and tight, tiny pair of hot pants.
They made the outline of my ass almost entirely transparent.
I had an inkling this would finish him off.
I wandered innocently out of the bathroom and lay down on his bed, stretching out on my front, so that my bum would look enticing.
I started flicking through a magazine.
Christian didn't say anything, but I could feel him staring, almost louder than if he'd been speaking.
When I turned back, his face was pale and haunted. But he was transfixed.
I'm not sure he was blinking. There may have been drool.
He seemed to be shedding brain cells by the minute.
In a few short days, I had achieved something I couldn't get within swinging distance of for 18 years.
I had hypnotized him.
It was almost enough to give me an orgasm in itself.
But I fancied a real one too...
"You want to take a picture?" I asked. "It'll last longer."
"You can't wear those and think I won't..."
"Won't what? Turn into a perv?"
"Won't look," he said.
"Just look?" I asked. "Because I feel like you want to touch."
"You wish!" he said, with attempted snark.
The bitch was getting cocky.
"You're too scared to touch," I said.
"I touched you yesterday," he said. "So that's crap."
"*I* touched me yesterday, with your hand. You just let me. There's a difference."
"To start with. Then I did it myself."
"Listen to yourself," I said. "You sound like a dork."
"I'm trying not to cross a line," he said.
I laughed out loud.
"Good one! You spend the week exposing yourself to me, then trying to get me to make you jizz... But because you protest for, like, one second, about finger fucking me before finger fucking me, suddenly you're Mother Theresa? You've crossed pretty much every line there is. And there are more you're dying to try..."
As if to underline the point, I made my ass shimmy.
"Don't fuck with me," he said.
"Try me," I said, licking my lips.
Suddenly his hands were on me.
He was removing my hot pants.
It was exciting, if unsophisticated.
I wondered for a moment if he was going to fuck me, but then I remembered he was still a colossal dork.
He proved this by sitting back down.
Apparently any further act would require going back to the drawing board.
The foreplay was going to last several years if I didn't do something.
I stole the opportunity to entice him again, shimmying my now-naked ass.
"I know you want to taste my pussy," I said. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."
I think he suspected a trap.
There was one, of course - a huge, bear trap in which he'd been ensnared for several days, and would not ultimately escape.
But in that moment, I genuinely did just want my brother to eat my pussy.
So I asked him: "Taste it..."
Eventually his tongue took an exploratory lick of my labia. It was brief, but it sent me into a dizzy spin.
I decided he needed some encouragement if the delicious assault was to continue:
"I didn't feel anything," I said. "You can't have done it right."
"It tastes sweet," he said, surprised, ignoring me to consider his own foodie angle.
"Taste some more," I said, pushing my ass towards him. "What are you waiting for?"
This time he went to town.
He had no idea what he was doing, but he used enough variety in his jazz that every now and then he did the right thing by mistake, and it felt electrifying.
Although I did feel obliged to reach back and guide his tongue to find the hood of my clit; I gave a moan of appreciation to make it clear X marked the spot.
Now he became an expert.
I don't know if they would have been transferable skills to his career as a legal attorney, but he was exploring every inch of my snatch with his tongue, as if he was Christopher Columbus discovering the free world.
And because he'd learned to return intermittently to my clit, he was able to sustain the momentum so well that I began to worry I wasn't going to be able to hold back from having an earth-shattering orgasm - which I wanted, of course, but would have preferred he didn't know had anything to do with him.
I couldn't resist lifting up my shirt, to reveal my hanging tits.
He began to maul them, in between handfuls he took of the rest of me.
"You don't have to ignore my ass," I said, figuring he needed this spelled out too.
Then his tongue was slurping at my asshole, while his fingers rubbed my clit.
It was the best head I'd received from anyone, let alone a relative.
But he didn't need to know that.
He was enjoying himself enough, and didn't need further reason to inflate his ego.
It was the first time I had let myself slip.
I had lost some of the detachment I'd been holding in reserve.
But in that moment I was hurtling towards a visionary orgasm, and couldn't care less about much else.
My legs began to tremble, then quake...
I stuck out my ass to meet his face.
I started to cum in seismic shudders...
It was one of those rare moments when life is about as good as it can be, for around twenty three seconds.
But as the waves of bliss began to subside, I grew worried I had given too much away.
I looked back at my brother, who was grinning like a loon; his nose, lips and chin dripping with syrup from my snatch.
"That was amazing," he said, as if he'd been the one to have the transcendent climax.
"It was?"
"It wasn't?" he asked, disappointed.
"It was OK," I said. "For a first try."
I noticed his stiff cock sticking out the buttonhole of his pajamas.
All I wanted was to have it inside me.
But I needed to get a grip.
If I wasn't careful, I would sabotage my own master plan, for the sake of a master-bate.
"What do you think you're gonna do with that?" I asked with more traditional, sisterly disgust.
He looked despondent, but didn't put the thing away.
"Don't get weird now," he said sadly.
"Don't get weird?" I said. "You just licked my ass, and by the looks of things would like to stick your cock in it. But *I* am the one getting weird? Oh-Kay!"
"You asked me to," he said in a small voice, and tried to reach for my hand. "Come on Sara..."
"Woah! Back off!" I leapt up. "I know you're a horny virgin, but you're not gonna fuck me in the ass! I'm your little sister."
I rolled over angrily and turned out the bedside light, grinning from ear to ear as soon as it was dark.
I got beneath the sheets and pretended to fall asleep.
"I'm so confused," he said, after a while.
His voice was lonely and small.
I almost felt bad.
Was I losing my touch?
Did I like him? The dork?
What would it even mean, if I did?
That he was worth something? That I wasn't a total psycho?
To be honest, I still felt amazing from the orgasm, and didn't care much about anything else.
So I closed my eyes and drifted into the most replenishing sleep.
Sixteen
The next morning Christian was already awake and watching me.
He looked gray and tired, as if he hadn't slept a wink; or had been troubled by disturbing dreams.
His face was fixed in a frown.
"Hi!" I said, sweetly.
"Hi," he tried to say not-desperately, but failed.
I stood up to get dressed, but he grabbed my wrist and would not let me go.
"Christian!" I said. "You're hurting me!"
"I'm sick of this!" he said.
"Of what?"
"You fucking with my head!"
"I haven't touched your head," I said.
"I don't know what to do! I could hardly sleep... You're driving me nuts."
Oh God, I thought. Has he snapped?
Surely he'd made himself cum by now.
He loosened his grip on my wrist and I sat down on the bed.
"What's this really about?" I tried to ask tenderly - the way I'd heard other people say tender things.
"I told you what it's about. You've made me have all these feelings I can't control."
"I heard you say a lot of words," I said. "But I still have no idea what you want."
He moved in close, so that his face was in my face.
I thought he might try and kiss me. But he wasn't that interesting.
"You know what I want," he said intensely. "I want this," and with his hands he indicated my innocent little body.
"But that would be crossing a line," I said.
"I know!" he said. "I'm the one that's been telling you that! But you pushed and pushed. And then you got me all..."
"All what?"
"All horny!" he said.
"Finally, you admit it!" I said. "I was starting to wonder if you ever would. You've had a massive crush on me all Christmas, and you are dying to fuck me."
"Not true," he said quietly. "I mean look, I do want to do all sorts of wrong things in my head, and I definitely need to fix that. But most of all I want you to stop tormenting me. Like, please. If you have ever loved me. Please just stop tormenting me."
His eyes went watery and I thought he was going to blub like a baby.
He was at his wits end - or at the end of something, I'm not sure how many wits he had to begin with.
So I reached down for his cock.
Because I don't know about you, but when I'm feeling down, sometimes having a bit of a fiddle makes me feel a lot better about the world.
You want to know the biggest piece of f-u-c-k-i-n-g hypocrisy?
He didn't stop me.
He repositioned his legs to give me greater access, and went to pull his shorts down!
"Wait a minute!" I said. "You give this big Braveheart speech telling me to stop tormenting you, and now you're trying to get to me to play with your dick again?"
"I'm not thinking straight," he said. "I do want you to stop. It's just that my body is aching for relief."
His cock was hard beneath his underpants, as if proving the point perfectly.
"I don't think you should be asking your sister for relief."
"I know," he said sadly, and lay back on the bed, looking ashamed and tearful again.
I might have felt sorry for him, if I felt things.
But I quite liked it, to be honest.
The only times I didn't mind my brother were when he was sad, or had his face buried in my ass.
These two things seemed to humble him.
"You do know you brought this all on yourself, don't you?" I said.
"I do," he said, nodding sadly.
"If you'd been honest from the start, we could have worked something out."
"Honest about what?"
"What you really want."
"Which is?"
"You hate being a virgin and you want to put your 5 inch cock inside me so that you won't be one anymore."
"7 inches," he said.
"We're beyond that now," I said.
"I'll tell you the truth," he said, with a sigh. "I do wish I wasn't a virgin. It's not the most humiliating thing in the world, and I feel like it will happen soon enough, but I don't love the fact that I haven't experienced that with someone yet. But it's also super personal, and not something I should have to talk about with my sister if I don't want to."
"The Google Translate version of that is: you're a sad virgin who's desperate to get laid." I said. "It's nice to hear you admit it. But it's still only half the truth, isn't it?"
"What's the other half?"
"You want me to take your virginity."
He winced.
"Even if I did want that," he said, "I'd never actually..."
"You'd never actually what?" I asked. "Never actually stick it in my tight, wet hole? The same hole you ate out last night?"
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