Humiliated by Vengeful Twin Sisterbyted_marx38©
She got up and walked to the door, and opened it. "Oh, by the way," she said, "you're having hot dogs tonight."
And she left, and I was pissed. I can't quite explain how it feels to simultaneously want to screw the living daylights out of someone while hating her for what she's just done, but it isn't pleasant.
So with that, Jane had set the agenda. I wanted to have sex with her so badly as my dreams no longer fulfilled my desires and they didn't come frequently enough. I hoped that Jane would one day take care of me in this way but from her words my horrid fear seemed clear: she would torture me to no end.
Though I always sprouted an erection when she arrived, some days she'd come in with a very functional attitude, not pull the sheet down, talk to me just a little, feed me and say goodnight. Other days she'd pull the sheet down and stare at me with that teasing look, and sometimes she'd add to this by lying on top of me and doing the ear thing like before.
One afternoon she did all this and then rolled off me and sat up on her knees beside me and as usual, I lay in breathless frustration while she reveled in the state she'd put me in. "Do you want some gum Bob?" she asked, pulling a pack of sugarless cinnamon from her purse. "I need to get the taste of your ear wax out of my mouth."
"Okay," I answered, and she plopped a piece in my mouth, then in hers, and we looked at each other while we chewed. Inexplicably she bent forward, placed her lips on mine, and kissed me on the lips, and then plunged her tongue into my mouth. I returned the favor, exploring the inside of her mouth with my tongue in great detail.
"That's the first time you've ever been kissed, isn't it?" she asked, smiling. "You're pretty good at it given that. Did you like?"
I nodded "Yes." Just as blind people often have excellent hearing, the few parts of my body that moved worked pretty well to compensate for the others, and my mouth and tongue came in quite handy. I'd clean around my mouth with my tongue and used my tongue and teeth to pull the sheet up, or pick up objects.
"I liked it a lot, I must say," she proclaimed. Jane sat there up on her knees for a moment, and then gazed down toward my bulging penis. She placed her hand on my stomach and then glanced up at me and smiled briefly and then focused her attention on my pajama bottoms. Without a word she unsnapped the three buttons, and we both sat still, both of us looking at my swollen member sprouting out of the opening. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it. It made the bed shake.
"Should I button them back up?" she asked.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
"I guess that means 'No'," she said. So she left me exposed like that and then leaned across my chest. "You know I'll stop doing all this if you want, you just have to say so," she said.
Again I was speechless.
"So you can't reach your penis with your hands," she said. "And you might never have a girlfriend, so you've never felt a hand on our penis. Maybe you never will," she said, smiling at me with a devious expression.
"Maybe not" I whispered.
"What was that? No?"
"Maybe not" I repeated.
Jane placed her chest on mine, and turned so that her face was just inches from mine. Her blue eyes cut right into me as we stared at one another. She lifted herself forward and buried her breasts into my face. Another first, and I loved it. I wanted more and though I wasn't sure what she had in mind, her next move offered promise. She sat back from me up on the bed, facing me, and slowly removed her sweater, pausing for a bit as I stared at her sitting there before me in her bra. She placed her hands behind her and undid the snap and removed it, uncovering her breasts, which were beautiful. I didn't speak and for the first time, she seemed perhaps a bit turned on too as she blushed a bit.
"That seems fair, don't you think?" she asked. "Your naked penis, me topless. But I'll dress us back up if you want."
I didn't answer.
"I guess that means 'No'", she said, her poise returning. Now she moved toward me and placed her left nipple in my mouth. "Go ahead, suck on it," she said.
And so I did, noting the slightly salty taste of her skin and the pleasant smell of her body oil as I massaged away with my tongue until her nipple hardened and became engorged. Then she moved her right breast over and I did the same to it. Heavenly, that's the best I can describe it, feeling her other nipple harden in my mouth as her breathing quickened.
"Christ you're good at what you do with your mouth" she said, flustered. She sat down beside the bed again on her knees, her breasts in full view, and turned her attention back to my penis. "So do you want to see what it feels like to have my hand on it?" she asked.
"Yes" I said.
"Good, you answered me that time," she said, doing her best to portray this command and control demeanor of hers. I could sense the excitement in her though my thoughts focused more on what I was about to experience.
I felt the warm smoothness of her hand grasp my scrotum as she stared at me, and I shivered with the sensation. Now, slowly, she moved her hand up my shaft and wrapped her fingers around my swollen head, squeezing it for a moment.
"I can stop if you want."
"No," I said, and now as she sat squeezing me, I threw all pride out and begged, "Please Jane, PLEASE make me come!"
"You want me to?" she asked as she resumed stroking.
"Yes!" I said. "Please."
She stopped. She let go and sat up. "Bob, I'm never going to make you come."
I couldn't believe this. "Why?" I asked. "What would it hurt?"
"It would be wrong," she said. "That would be incest."
"Well what the hell is the rest of this then?" I asked, frustrated anger sweeping throughout me.
"I don't know what it is, but I don't consider it incest if I don't make you come. Plus, don't get so mad at me, I keep telling you to say to stop but you don't. So it's your fault."
She sat away from me and started putting her bra back on, and I strained as hard as I could with my few working muscles to get at her, wanting to hop on her and screw her brains out. But I couldn't. It just wasn't possible.
After putting her bra and sweater back on, she snapped up my pajamas. "You see, you have a noose around me because I'm stuck taking care of you. So it's only fair that I won't make you come, because for one I don't want to, and for two, it's my noose around YOU. But like I said, if you want these little episodes of ours to stop, just say the word and I'll leave you alone from now on."
With that she stood up and walked toward the bedroom door. "Last night, my boyfriend dumped me, Bob," she said. "I wasn't able to spend enough time with him so he left me for someone else." She opened the door and said, "It's a shame isn't it?" as she left the room.
My anger this time toward inward and I felt a sense of hopeless depression, realizing that my own stupidity that day in the pickup truck caused this plight for both of us. Maybe I deserved this cruel deprivation game she played, a just punishment perhaps. I stewed over this most of the night and throughout the next day, and when Jane arrived in the afternoon I said, "Jane, we have to figure this out. I can't go on like this. I'd rather be dead."
"Oh stop it," she said, laughing. "What's the big deal? You enjoy what I do, and I enjoy doing it to you."
"Yeah, but why do you get this twisted kick out of teasing me, torturing me in this way?"
"Oh I don't know", she said with a dismissive attitude. "Maybe it's payback for wasting my high school youth taking care of you like I said last night. And remember, you can always say to stop, it's not like I'm forcing any of this against your will."
I didn't respond. I was tired of the argument, the one we would no doubt never resolve. It was pointless. Again, depression swept over me and I lay in defeated self-pity.
Yet Jane persisted. "Bob, since you'll never have a girlfriend, you'll probably never have a chance to make a girl come, will you?"
"I suppose not," I answered.
"That's too bad."
"Isn't it though. Just a real crying shame."
"Yeah, it is because I'll bet you'd like that, to hear a girl shout with delight at the pleasure you brought her, to hear me scream your name in orgasmic ecstasy."
This perked me up a bit. "You scream my name?" I asked.
I figured she was just toying with me, so, enticing as the concept sounded, I tried to dismiss it by saying "But you said making each other come was incest and you wouldn't have any part of it."
"No I didn't say that."
"Yes you did."
"No I didn't. I said if I made YOU come that was incest. I didn't say anything about you making ME come." She stood up and unbuttoned her jeans, then removed them. Now we were both heaving breathlessly, and her excitement intensified as she removed her cotton panties. She reached for a baby wipe and straddled across me, spreading her legs, her pussy in full view right in front my face. She used the wipe to clean herself as her face flushed, the outer lips, the inner lips, everything.
Watching this display put me in a state of frozen excitement and her composure at this point wasn't much better. "Bob," she muttered as her chest heaved up and down, "do you want me to teach you how to make a girl come?"
"Okay," I said.
"You do understand, though, that I'm not going to make you come in return, right?"
I didn't answer and she glared at me for a second, the fire of anticipation in her eyes. Then she bent toward me and put her pussy right in front of me, placed her hands behind my head, locked her fingers together and said, "Just start licking." And I did exactly that, tonguing around, not knowing what I was doing, but learning by trial and error what seemed to be working best for her.
Within about two minutes she was rocking her pelvis up and down to accentuate the motion of my tongue on her clitoris, and I took big, long licks, rhythmic, licks that changed her breathing into moaning. Her grasp around my head tightened, and now she squeezed my hair and pressed herself so hard against me that it hurt my nose. Finally, after just a few more seconds of this, I felt her tremble all over as she began to shout "Oh good JESUS, Bob!" and pumped herself against me a few more times, and then squeezed my head between her thighs and pulled herself away a bit so I couldn't lick any longer.
After a few minutes of this she laid on top of me, her soaked pussy right on top of my penis, her breathing still labored. My penis hurt from the bulging erection and I tried desperately as always to thrust and hump up against her but still couldn't. Finally I said, "My turn."
"Just, just, please be quiet for a minute," she said, hugging me tightly.
"Okay, just tell me when you're ready." I lay still, wishing to death I could reach up around her with my arms and force myself inside of her.
"Bob, that was awesome," she said into my ear. "You have a gift for that, a magic mouth and tongue. Thank you."
"Like I said, though, I'm not going to make you come. Just like I promised I wouldn't." Then she got up and quickly gathered up her underwear and jeans and left the room, and didn't return.
If I'd had a gun and was able to pull the trigger, I would have shot myself right then. Now the depression over my horrid plight deepened into an almost panicky anxiety and I lay in frustration most of the night hoping she'd return, praying, but knowing she wouldn't. And she didn't. I didn't even have a wet dream about it.
The next afternoon Jane came in and asked how I was doing, as if nothing had happened. She seemed to be in one of her functional moods again, very business-like, asking me whether I was thirsty and if I wanted broccoli or a salad with my spaghetti. Things like that. I answered her queries for a bit but then said, "Jane, I'm glad you enjoyed last night."
"I did, more than you'll ever know, but I don't want to talk about it right now," she said. And that was that. She fed me and the night was over.
The next day she was in a completely different mood, the mood I liked, but the one that always left me frustrated virtually to the point of suicide in the end. It was a warm afternoon and she was wearing a loose-fitting sleeveless cotton blouse, with matching white cotton shorts. She pulled down the sheet and stared at my bulge and lay on top of me as before. "Bob," she said, whispering into my ear, "I'd really like it if you made me come again."
She lifted her head so I could see her face, and her blue eyes had a look of passion but also a puppy-like begging sort of anticipation. "Well, yeah," I said after a few seconds, not really sure what to say. "But this time it would be for both of us, right?"
She smiled and cocked her head to one side, as if apologizing. "No Bob, I keep telling you that that's not going to happen. It would be just like last time."
"Oh for God's sake," I said, "that's just not fair, it's just not right."
"Well, suit yourself," she said, her face strained, "you obviously don't have to if you don't want." She sat up next to me in the bed and stared directly at me, her face flushed, and reached down and undid the top button on her shorts. Then she sat in silence in anticipation of my reaction.
I said nothing and then she spoke. "But you're so good at it."
I didn't know what to do. Clearly this would be all for her and once again I'd be left with a swollen dick and nothing else. But, I had enjoyed the experience of making her have an orgasm, and I did need some more material to fuel my wet dreams. So, feigning even further reluctance, I eventually agreed.
It was as she promised. I licked her just like two days before and she had a powerful orgasm for which she expressed endless gratitude, but she didn't return the favor in any sense. I had explosive wet dreams that night and the next over this, and it seemed like we'd reached some pathetic state of balance.
Some days she'd be all business, others she'd pull the sheet down, compliment me on the size of my bulge, and ask me rather directly if I would please her. It became a ritual of sorts, and she expressed this air of entitlement over the cunnilingus that I would perform for her when she wanted it. She'd remove her pants and panties and clean herself. I 'd lick her, she'd scream, then she'd plop a piece of gum in my mouth, then in hers, kiss me deeply while still panting, and tell me how I had a magic gift. Then she'd sit talking to me while I twisted in agonizing desire.
But she did nothing to make me squirt, yet I went along with it because in short it was better than nothing. This taking me for granted – that sense of entitled privilege over this that she displayed – did indeed weigh on me, however.
One day when she arrived, she pulled the sheet down and unbuttoned my pants, smiling at me playfully. Then, for the second time ever, she started running her hand along my penis, smiling as I shivered. Thus began the cruelest, most vicious encounter between us ever.
She let go of me and scooted up next to me, stared into my eyes and said, "I have an idea, Bob."
"What's your idea?" I asked nervously.
"Well, I first want to make something very clear to you: I'm not going to make you come."
"Why am I not surprised?" I answered. I looked deep into her blue eyes but she didn't blink. "I'm not sure I like this idea then," I answered.
"Well, okay then, it's your choice."
I didn't answer.
"It's too bad though, because I thought it was a pretty good idea. I thought it up late last night. But whatever."
I waited a few seconds and then said, "Okay Jane, why don't you tell me your idea."
"You sure you want to hear it?"
"Okay, but like I said, I'm not going to make you come. Anyway, I'm thinking you'll probably never get to see what it feels like to have your penis in a girl's vagina." She held that steady gaze into my eyes as she said this, and I didn't answer, so she continued. "So, if you want, I can take my pants off and slip you inside of me so you can see what it feels like, but only for a few seconds."
I swallowed, a dry gulping swallow, but said nothing.
"You wouldn't be able to come, but at least you'd know the feeling of being inside me. But like I said, it's up to you. We don't have to do this."
I returned her stare, and then looked past her. I figured that maybe, just maybe, this time she wouldn't be so cruel and might finally relieve my burning desire. I had, after all, made her orgasm perhaps two dozen times by now.
"Okay" I agreed nervously.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure."
She plopped a piece of gum in my mouth, then in hers, and gave me a quick but thorough kiss. I started shaking all over as she stood up, undid the snap on her shorts, and removed them, all the while staring into my eyes. She then removed her panties, that sly grin once again spreading across her face. Next she put her fingers around the waist band of my pajamas and removed them entirely.
Then she sprawled on top of me and sat looking into my eyes with a smirk. I could feel her soft blond pubic hair against my erection, and the smell of her and the feel of her skin against mine filled me with delightful full-body sensations and anticipatory chills.
We lay like that for a few seconds, me wanting once again to reach around her with my arms and pull myself into her but unable to do so. "Are you ready?" she asked, now with a quiver in her voice and her face a bit flushed.
I couldn't speak but nodded "Yes".
"You want me to fuck you Bob?"
"Yes," I answered, gritting my teeth.
"Say it," she commanded, the quiver gone, her bravado taking over.
"I want it."
"You want what?"
"I want you to fuck me."
She smiled. "Okay, Bob, this will be as if I'm fucking you. But, I'm not really fucking you because like I said, you won't come. Okay?"
She leaned to one side and spread her legs across me, reaching down with one hand and grabbing my penis. She guided it toward her crotch and rubbed the head along her damp slit, and then inserted it. I shook all over at the first sensations of her warm moistness enveloping me and slowly, very slowly, she rocked her hips until I was all the way inside. It was paradise, much better than I'd ever imagined, and I urged my hips to surge upward into her but they didn't respond, and my breathing turned to moaning.
Had Jane pumped even once I would have blown an enormous wad right through her but she didn't move. I grunted as I tried to squirm to create any sort of friction but it didn't work and she didn't budge, just lay there on top of me like a statue for about 30 seconds, gleaming. Finally she pulled off of me and crouched down beside me.
"Did you like it?" she asked.
I didn't speak, because I couldn't. I was almost in tears, straining to get back inside her but unable to move. I stared at my bulging head and it was the deepest shade of purple ever, almost black, gleaming with her juices. She stared down at it too and we both sat in silence looking at it, me shivering, still unable to talk.
"I've never seen your helmeted warrior look quite like that," she said.
"Jane," I whispered, tears streaming down my face, "Please do it, do it again, PLEASE. FINISH IT!" I shouted and begged.
She looked away and quickly grabbed her clothes into a bunch and stuck them under her arm, pulled my pajama bottoms back up, snapped them and pulled the sheet back up over me, and paused at the bedroom door.
"I got a rejection letter from Princeton today," she said, looking at me with a ferocious glare. "Not enough extracurricular involvement in high school I suppose. Let's hope I get into Rutgers." She walked out and slammed the door behind her.
From there I settled into an almost catatonic depression. She returned later to feed me that night but I wouldn't eat. I stared off to the side and didn't talk to her, so she said goodnight, kissed me on the cheek and looked at me with a bit of a concerned expression. I had an explosive orgasm that night over the events of the day but at this point, my brain and body were fried and nothing meant anything to me any longer.