tagIncest/TabooHumiliated by Vengeful Twin Sister

Humiliated by Vengeful Twin Sister

byted_marx38©

This story doesn't jump right into sexual activity but instead first explores Jane's depths of erotic teasing, fueled by her disturbing vengeance toward her incapacitated brother Bob. No sexual activity occurs between anyone under the age of eighteen. Your feedback is appreciated and please indicate your gender if you are so kind to offer public or email comments. Thanks, Ted.

Introduction


Today I consider myself one of the luckiest men alive in New Jersey, if not the world. You'll have a hard time understanding why as I recount the agony I've endured, but it will all make sense in the end. I love my sister Jane dearly, and she loves me. It just took a long time for our relationship to settle into a state of sustainable mutual satisfaction.

The Accident

By the age of fourteen, I'd adopted a reckless and tough demeanor, and my twin sister Jane was a tomboy, a comrade of mine in our neighborhood click. The accident occurred on our way to a junior high football game, where I played linebacker and Jane was a cheerleader.

The day of our first game that season, we rode to the game in the back of a neighbor's pickup with five other kids from our subdivision. I felt totally wired with anticipation as we made our way toward the practice field. As we cruised along in the crisp early-morning autumn air, I grabbed my helmet and pulled it on, buckled the chin strap, and started standing up while holding the side of the truck for stability.

"Bob!" Jane yelled, "Are you crazy?"

"You bet I am," I replied, "I'm the craziest pickup truck water skier in the land, the Helmeted Warrior, out to slay the lake monster!" I steadied myself, stood up in the wind, released my grip on the side of the truck and crouched down like I was water skiing, balancing myself on the moving truck, arms in out in front of me as if holding the rope, while the other kids laughed hysterically.

That's the last I remember. They tell me the truck swerved to miss a pothole and I was flung onto the pavement in front of oncoming traffic and run over by a car. The helmet saved my life but the damage was devastating. My legs, hips, knees, arms and elbows were fractured as the car toppled me over and over, and I suffered irreversible damage to my limbs and nervous system.

My robust physical prowess immediately regressed to my earning status as yet one more quadriplegic victimized by foolishness. Formerly the helmeted warrior and now sentenced to a lifetime of virtual immobility, I could only move my hands at the wrists and fingers yet had sensation throughout most of my body. This included my pelvic region though at times that served more as a curse than a blessing as you will see.

Caretaking Begins

My parents both worked in the city and for the first two years, nurse Ruthie took care of my every need from morning until they got home around six-thirty at night. A large woman, Ruthie could lift me into my wheelchair, and she'd walk me around the subdivision. She bathed me, fed me and took care of my toilet needs.

Twin sister Jane became my steadfast ally, spending as much time with me as she could, keeping my spirits up. Sporting long, straight blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, she took on a more prominent role in my care after we turned sixteen.

After two years of being with me for 18 hours a day, Ruthie declared that she needed time away from me to take care of her own personal business each afternoon. Already strapped financially by my medical bills and Ruthie's expenses, my parents assigned Jane to watch over me from the end of the school day until they returned from work. This, they said, was the only way they could save enough to send Jane to college, and they planned to eventually declare me a ward of the state and place me in an institution when Jane left for college.

Though assigned to me just three hours per day, it changed Jane's life dramatically. All of her after-school activities ceased; no more cheerleading, no more volleyball, nothing. She'd do everything for me during those hours, feed me dinner, wipe my nose if I sneezed, everything I needed. But not the bathing or the toileting stuff (I'll spare the details on how that aspect was managed!). She was, after all, my sister, so I kept my private parts private from her.

Jane was a trooper for me at first, but her resentment grew as one-by-one, her extracurricular activities suffered because of my plight. She complained at times to me but didn't directly call me a burden. Still, she took out her anger toward me in sly ways.

One evening as she fed me dinner, she held the fork a few inches from my mouth and I couldn't reach it. I smiled at her and said "Jane, you aren't going to make me starve are you?"

"I might," she said still dangling the fork out of my reach and staring at me blankly.

I was stunned and uttered a soft, "Why?"

"Oh I don't know, I guess I could feed you tonight. Or maybe I won't."

I didn't reply but we just stared at each other for a tense moment. "See," she continued, "I could feed you tonight, or, I could just leave you here and go to the cheerleading tryouts. They start in 20 minutes."

I looked away from her and when I looked back, she was wiping a tear with her sleeve. "Eat your chicken," she said as she finally fed me.

I chewed and swallowed and then said "Jane, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she replied.

I wish I could say this tense moment was the end, but it was only the beginning. For the next two years, even during the summers, Jane spent those three hours each day with me and it cost her immeasurably. For instance, a modeling agency spotted her and she went through a series of photographic shoots, and then received an offer to appear with other girls in a teen magazine's story on teens that could be future modeling stars. However, because of me, she couldn't make the time commitment and her modeling career ended before it started.

Her resentment grew and she took it out in ways that frustrated and hurt me to the core, each instance trivial but having a cumulative effect. For example, I'd sneeze and she'd wait for several minutes before wiping my nose, teasing me with statements like "Yeah, I'll wipe your nose with the baby wipe, Mr. Helmeted Warrior, as soon as you explain why you thought you should pretend to water ski on a moving pickup truck."

She reminded me often of the things she wasn't able to do because of me, activities beyond the modeling, and how she wasn't caring for me by her own choice. When she was in a particularly bad mood her words plain hurt. All the same, I could sense that at some core level she loved me. She defended me in front of others on those rare occasions that they visited. If someone said something improper she'd set them straight.

Erotic Beginnings

The injuries slowed my physical development and I didn't have my first nocturnal emission until after Jane and I turned eighteen. I wasn't sure what had happened; I found myself in a strange dream where Jane was about to undo her blouse for me and my pajamas ended up soaked with my semen.

I felt icky and weird, not sure what was going on, and the fact that Jane played the leading role in that dream bothered me. When it came time for my bath the next morning, Ruthie made no mention of the mess and merely wiped it off without comment.

That afternoon when Jane arrived for her time with me, I couldn't look at her, and she picked up on my strain.

"So what's with the silent treatment?" she asked.

"Nothing," I answered, feeling my face blush. This was the first warm day of spring and she was wearing a mini-skirt, looking quite delightful as the breeze through the open window in my room toyed with her hair. But I couldn't return her glance as it seemed like her blue eyes would pierce right through me and read the naughty secret in my mind.

She sat staring at me as I looked past her, and then finally said, "Well screw you then, I don't need this boredom if you won't even talk to me. I'll be in my room so if you need anything, scream."

From then on, I'd have these wet dreams every three days or so, and Ruthie cleaned me up and never made a comment about it, thank heavens. All of these dreams had Jane in the lead role. Though on occasion her girlfriends would visit and I loved spending time with them, I lived in social isolation and essentially I knew no other "live" girl, as I couldn't smell or feel those on television like I could Jane.

Now that I realized what this was all about, I found myself straining at night to reach my hardened penis with my hands but couldn't. I wanted to roll over on my own and pump the bed but my body wouldn't let me do so. My hips didn't work at all so it was impossible. I couldn't even thrust upward against the bed sheets. Thus I became a slave to my own fantasies, falling asleep at night praying that they'd be erotic enough to release the sexual tension building within me through a powerful wet dream, anything to relieve the agony.

I awaited Jane's arrival each afternoon, as just seeing her gratified me. And why not? Blonde hair, blue eyes, flawless body, and certified model material. I'd immediately sprout an erection when she entered my bedroom and she surely saw me taking in every angle of her body as I stared her up and down as we chatted. No doubt she noticed the bulge beneath my bed sheets, but she didn't comment. I detected a gleam in her eyes that told me she knew what was going on with me. .

Nurse Ruthie always dressed me in loose-fitting blue cotton pajamas, very thin, with snap-up pants, no underwear and no top. This was very convenient for her from a caretaking perspective but didn't provide much cover for my erection when Jane would arrive.

One particularly warm afternoon, after entering my bedroom, Jane opened the window and a relatively cool breeze flowed into the room. She next uncovered me by pulling down the sheet passed my knees, and took in the view of the bulge beneath my thin, blue cotton pajama bottoms with wide eyes.

"It's hot in here, don't you think?" she asked, smiling slyly. "That should cool you down a bit."

"Yeah, it is rather warm, but you can pull the sheet back up," I said. The breeze created a stark contrast as it wafted through the openings between my pajama snaps and met with my moist pubic hairs and sweaty genitals, emphasizing the feeling of my near nakedness.

"No, I think I should leave it like that, I think you'll feel better that way."

And so it was. She sat there next to me or three hours, occasionally glancing at the bulge as we made idle conversation, my erection not even shrinking when she fed me dinner. That afternoon turned into sexual torture by any definition. Only the thin cotton fabric and three snaps on my pajamas separated my swollen member from Jane, but I could do nothing. I lay helpless as she occasionally stared at length at my rock-hard bulge that sought to pierce through my pajama bottoms toward her.

Still, she made no mention of it as she gazed up at me with that crafty smile of hers. "Bob, you seem distracted tonight, seems like you don't want to eat. What's on your mind?" she asked at one point, gleaming.

"Nothing. Just bored."

"Do I bore you?"

"No," I answered.

"Because if I bore you I can leave. Do you want me to leave or stay here?"

I treasured every moment in her presence even though my internal desires for her fueled a frustrating flame. "No, why don't you just stay here," I finally answered.

And so it went, each day for quite some time. When Jane came home to take care of me, she pulled the sheet down and delighted in seeing the bulge from my surging erection. One afternoon she did the same but for the first time broached the subject of sex with me.

"So Bob," she said, as she eyed the bulge. "Ruthie tells me you make a mess of your pajama bottoms once in a while."

Stunned, I stammered for a bit and then asked, "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." She turned toward my erection and said, "Does it hurt when it gets like that?"

I didn't answer as I felt my face blushing.

"Relax Bob, it's just me, Jane. We don't have to talk about that if you don't want to."

With the lack of stimuli in my life, and with my sexual fantasies centering on Jane in the first place, I didn't want the conversation to end. I didn't know where this was heading but I wanted to find out.

"Yeah," I said, "it hurts."

"You can't reach it, can you?"

"No, I can't."

"So that must suck. You can't take care of yourself. So what happens? What makes the mess? Is it Ruthie?"

"Oh God no," I answered quickly. The thought sickened me.

"Well then, what?"

I lay in tense embarrassment, excited by the topic but uncomfortable having this dialog with my twin sister. "It happens at night" I finally stated.

"So like a wet dream?"

"Yeah," I said, "I guess that's what they call it."

"That's nice, Bob," she said. "It must feel good."

"It does."

"Well," she said as she draped her arms around my head, pressing her chest against mine so that I felt the softness of her breasts against my bare chest. She whispered in my ear, "I'm glad that feels good for you and your helmeted warrior down there when you have those dreams."

My heart started racing as the smell and feel of her overwhelmed me. She'd often hugged me like this but never when talking about sex. I lay speechless.

"It's good that you can have these relieving dreams, because thanks to that stunt you pulled in the truck that day, it might be the best you ever get compared to the rest of us."

I turned my chin abruptly into her cheek, and she pulled back from me. "Don't get upset," she said, "I'm just being realistic with you. Like I said, we can stop talking about this whenever you choose."

"So what do 'the rest of us' get?" I asked.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'd probably have a lot more to share if I hadn't spent so much time over the last two years taking care of you because of your foolishness."

"You're really bitter over this."

"Yeah. You bet I'm bitter. I've sacrificed my high school life because of you and what you did that day. And don't get me started on the modeling stuff."

She'd made these comments before but they'd never stung me quite like this. Maybe the sexual tension, I don't know. I do know the bulge in my pants hurt like hell – in truth it felt delightful yet hurt all the same – and she kept focusing her eyes on it.

"So," she said, "are you sure you want to know what you're missing?"

"Oh, why not?" I answered.

"Let me put it this way. You might get the chance someday, but I doubt it, unfair as that might seem."

"What chance?"

She leaned right into my face and spoke with a serious and deliberate tone. "While you've had your wet dreams, I've made a guy come while inside me and watched his eyes roll back in his head. And he's made me scream in orgasm, using his hands and mouth. He's my boyfriend, and you don't know him, and you never will. I only wish I could spend more time with him but I can't because I'm stuck here each day with YOU."

She sat back and crossed her arms across her chest, awaiting my reaction.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice quivering.

"I asked you whether you wanted to hear it and you said 'yes' so you're getting what you asked for. And plus, I'd have a hell of a lot more to tell you if I hadn't been held back by you so much. You'll never know how much I've sacrificed for you, my dear twin brother."

I looked away from her and my erection subsided quickly, like a pierced hose, for one of the few times while in her presence. I felt a wave of possessive jealousy over knowing some guy was having my sister in this way, but that feeling paled compared to the physical jealousy. She'd experienced my dream of having a real live orgasm, triggered by another person instead of just dreams. That seemed so unattainable for me, and now was slapping me in the face with it. I had few means to display my once reckless and tough demeanor of a few years ago, but that spirit hadn't totally vanished.

"Jane," I said after a few moments.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you don't need to feed me dinner tonight," I said, my voice steady.

"Oh really?" she asked, looking at me seductively. "What might you want me to do instead?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"Well, I'm thinking maybe instead of feeding me two hot dogs tonight, you should leave me alone and go downstairs, and grab one frozen hot dog out of the freezer and shove it up your ass, and grab another frozen hot dog out of the freezer and stick it in your cunt. Then I can go to sleep and have my wet dream and we'll both be satisfied. How's that sound?"

She stared at me in defiance, stunned, unsure what to do. My stare didn't waver. Finally she looked away, stood up, and left the bedroom. That was the last I saw of her that evening.

Happenings

The next day Jane didn't pull the sheet down. She came in and out of my room to check on me, and this pattern of mutual standoffishness continued for about a week. I didn't dwell on the visual of her with another guy, but did still fantasize about her with me, even more than before. On the eighth day after our little quarrel, I wanted to be with her more, so I asked her to stay in my room with me the entire three hours.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm lonely, Jane. I need your company. I need you to stay with me and talk to me because I'm miserable when I'm alone so much."

She looked at me and compassion eased across her expression. "Okay then," she said, and she leaned forward and hugged me, holding her nose and mouth right by my ear for several seconds so I could hear her breathing, and feel her breasts heave up and down on my chest. I was in ecstasy and I hated it when she let go, but I knew she had to, that we had to have a normal conversation and soothe the wounds. So, we spent an enjoyable few hours chatting that day, with no teasing and no bitter words. But I still had an enormous erection the whole time.

Alas, that display of compassion wasn't the end of Jane using sexual teasing to unload her anger over our predicament. In fact, the next day when she arrived, she pulled the sheet down saying she didn't want me to be too warm and her eyes once again settled on my erection. She leaned forward and hugged me as before, but this time while practically lying on top of me. She placed her pelvis right over mine and I tried in vain despair to hump up at her, but it just wasn't possible because of my partial paralysis.

"Do you like me lying on you like this?" she whispered into my ear.

My heart was racing and I could hardly speak, but muttered, "Yeah, like I said, I get lonely."

She slipped her tongue into my ear and I jerked with a startle. "Oh," she exclaimed, "you don't like that?"

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing, just showing you how much I love you. I can do it again if you want," she said, her face still buried in my shoulder. Her long blonde hair felt and smelled wonderful as it draped across my face.

I didn't answer.

She lifted up her head and looked at me with that sly grin. "Well, I guess you don't want?" she asked.

"I didn't say that," I answered quickly, my penis feeling like it would explode, desperately wishing she'd hump me and release my load.

She smiled and tucked her head back toward my shoulder, and now she placed her tongue on the outside of my ear and started licking round and round the outside, plunging it inside, her breathing invading me with its warmth and lovely sounds, her tongue sucking and massaging my ear in a most erotic fashion. "I think you like that," she whispered.

"I do," I said.

"I thought so. I can feel your erection under me getting bigger, so maybe I'd better stop now." With that she stood up and after staring at my bulge for a few seconds, she pulled the sheet back up. While I lay tense with anticipation of what might come next, she had other intentions. "I'm going to leave now," she said. I'll be back in a bit to feed you dinner. Maybe that little tongue action will be enough to make you have a wet dream while I'm gone. That's as good as it will ever get, my reckless little twin."

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