Blondie Beds Her Needy Brother Pt. 01

Blondie Beds Her Needy Brother Pt.1

Caring Cajun cutie services sibling's special needs

My thirty-something hotwife, Blondie, and I had invited a young man over to our home one Saturday for an afternoon and evening of casual sexual fun that proved to be much more of an erotic adventure than we ever could have anticipated. Not only did Blondie also have sex with that fellow...but she bedded his virginal, eighteen-year-old, high school-senior nephew as well...during an eventful day which triggered subsequent actions that led to my eventual discovery of her extensive incestual escapades beginning at that same age. Those events are recounted in the two-part Blondie Bags a Black Cherry.

Likely the proximate cause of her life-long promiscuity as an adult, those incestual adventures were assuredly a factor in her later, eager acceptance of the hotwife, cuckolding lifestyle when I'd suggested it a few years into our marriage. She had taken to her hotwife role enthusiastically, sexually entertaining dozens upon dozens of men, as well as the two of us, in countless liaisons. I look back now and wonder if we don't owe all that pleasure and excitement to her brother for his role in making her the highly sexual creature she came to be.

What led to my eventual discovery was the fact that Jeff, the young man who'd shown up for the afternoon tryst with Blondie, had a condition called strabismus, commonly referred to as lazy or wandering eye by the general public although that is medically incorrect. I would have thought that his overall physical appearance, which I would characterize as a bit lounge-lizard seedy, was apparently more of a turnoff for my gorgeous blonde wife than his ocular abnormality...except that I knew my naughty bayou babe had a pronounced weakness for bad boys.

Whatever her reasons, she had initially balked at having sex with him until I took her aside and reminded her of another young man...a transient Wyoming cowboy she'd once picked up in a downtown Mobile bar. He had also been a bit honkytonk sleazy and...quite coincidentally...had the same sort of eye condition and she had been extremely responsive to him.

That pointed but accurate reminder had overcome Blondie's objection and she had responded sexually with Jeff just as she'd done with the cowboy...although she'd tried to conceal it from me initially...requesting that I let her fuck him in private their first time. When I'd cracked the bedroom door and looked in on them, her behavior was identical to what I'd witnessed with the cowboy...my little Cajun slut fully consumed with feverish desire and unbridled passion...avidly fucking this fellow. And just as she had with the cowboy, she continued doing so, along with his young nephew, much of the night and again the following morning.

I asked myself, "Is it this, her out-of-control lust, that she doesn't want me to see? And if so, why not? Why would she not want me to see it, knowing that the more passionately she responds to other men the more entertaining it is for me? What the hell was going on?"

Closing the bedroom door, I had returned to my temporary banishment in the living area where I fired up a joint and sat there halfway listening to the music, in deep thought, contemplating what I'd just seen and wondering just what it was about physical impairment that could inspire such a passionate response from my comely Southern belle.

It was then that a suspicion began nagging at me: Blondie had a physically handicapped brother a couple of years older than her whose problems were due to a nearly deadly bout of childhood meningitis, leaving him with some reduced physical movement and some speech impairment... affecting both his mobility and his ability to easily communicate. His family and a few male, school and/or neighborhood friends who'd grown up in routine contact with him had minimal difficulty understanding him, but for most people...unwilling to make the extra effort...it was problematic. As a result, he'd been woefully ineffective in his interactions with girls, as a student and young man, remaining single until finally marrying a similarly disabled woman when almost thirty.

I wondered if there could be some connection there to explain my wife's strangely heightened, erotic attraction to two young men with ocular deformities. Generally there was nothing wrong with her brother's eyes, but it did occur to me that on a few occasions when I had seen him really angry or extremely excited...such as during bitter family arguments or while watching LSU and Saints' football games...that his eyes could, now and then, go out of sync and fail to track in parallel, quite similarly to this guy Jeff and the Wyoming cowboy. Could sexual excitement also incite such optical misalignment? My budding suspicions began to grow.

Blondie had finally admitted to me a few months after her weekend tryst with Jeff...on a night when she was stoned and deep into sentimental reminiscences...that her sexually frustrated brother had indeed taken advantage of her during her senior year at Baton Rouge High...but the way she made it sound, she wasn't exactly an innocent. She'd refused to provide many details other than that it had gone well beyond mere voyeurism or copping feels...the more usual sibling sexual transgressions.

She hinted that at some point they'd ultimately engaged in intercourse and that it had been made emotionally complicated for her because of her sympathy for his unfulfilled sexual needs. She initially made it sound like it was recurring...taking place over a lengthy period...but then at another time, flatly denied that, claiming it was just a few infrequent occurrences. No matter what the truth, she was obviously guilt-ridden and conflicted about what they'd done.

However, not long after her partial admission I made a startling discovery while we were at her parents' home in Baton Rouge over Thanksgiving. Her clever but unmotivated brother had recently lost his job and separated from his constantly miserable and complaining wife, then moved back in with his parents. While we were there, he'd asked me to check out his bedroom computer for a recurring problem he had been unable to resolve. I did so while he was napping in front of the TV, watching football, following a huge holiday dinner.

I confess to snooping around in his computer and rather easily finding his porn stash, which included dozens of links to sibling incest videos, with each that I clicked into featuring teenage blonde females; there were also some encrypted Word files. Bert used the same password for everything, so I was swiftly into them, quickly finding a lengthy document chronicling sexual events much differently from my wife's wistful version. What I had before me was Bert's very well-reconstructed account of at least part of their incestual activities, an account employing a sizable amount of recreated dialogue, and unlike Blondie's melancholic version, this was lively stuff, reading more like a porn novel...most assuredly not your usual sibling sex games.

Apparently, Bert, or within the extended family, Bertie...short for Bertrand...had taken some creative writing courses both in high school and during a semester away at a special-needs college in New England. Sometime after dropping out and returning home, he had decided to apply them to writing his version of his incestuous adventures with his sexy sister beginning the summer she turned eighteen, after his nerdy little sibling had begun blossoming into an enticing little sex kitten.

As for those passages where Bert wrote as the omniscient author, seemingly recounting his sister's thoughts, emotions and sexual feelings, he explained in his introduction that after he and his sibling had become somewhat comfortable in their illicit relationship, they'd had numerous frank discussions about it...exploring their motives and attempting to justify to themselves their unquenchable sibling lust. He had recorded many details of those conversations in a makeshift diary that became the basis for his journal, thus he felt qualified to sufficiently relate his sister's words and viewpoint. To enhance the cultural verisimilitude of their dialogue, he also included many of the French terms with which their real-life conversations are peppered.

According to Bert, he had first hit on Blondie the very first weekend after she'd turned eighteen, at the end of her junior year. A few of her friend's had thrown a party for her and after downing a few beers there, she'd gone parking with her new boyfriend, who...plying her with a half pint of cheap whiskey in the course of some heavy necking...had managed to get under her bra before pushing up her skirt and getting a finger in her for the very first time in their nascent romance. She had surprised herself by assisting him...eagerly hiking her own skirt up past her hips...then spreading her legs for his digital explorations the better part of an hour before going home feeling semi-drunk and still far too aroused to even consider sleep.

As I had learned in my subsequent years with Blondie, excess alcohol makes her noticeably more self-confident while simultaneously lowering her sexual inhibitions. Bert was aware that alcohol could alter his sister's behavior and that night used that information in opening his campaign of sibling seduction.

Their pipeline engineer father bought Crown Royal by the case and when his parents hosted parties, Bert always spirited a partial bottle or two from the kitchen to refill a pair of silver flasks he kept hidden on the top shelf of his closet. Blondie had acquired a taste for her parents' expensive whisky by sharing the occasional late-night, post-date nightcap with her still-awake brother, so when she came in from her date that Friday evening, Bert quietly filled a small ice bucket and took it to his room after first checking to ensure maman was asleep—papa was of no concern as he was overseas on a new pipeline project.

Slipping down the dark hallway, Bert pushed the door to their shared bathroom open a crack, peeked in and saw Blondie sitting on the toilet, tight skirt hiked up over her hips and panties around her ankles, attempting to read a teen magazine. Looking up she snarled,

"Bertie, get the hell outta here—you gotta quit bargin' in on me like this—we're not kids anymore, you know?"

Fixing him with a glare, she asked, "You already forgotten that I turned eighteen this past week an' I'm not a kid anymore?"

Stepping into the room he closed the door and replied, "Nope, haven't forgotten..." and proffering one of two drinks, said, "Here's a little toast, birthday girl."

Sniffing her glass, her frown softened to a sly smile as she clinked his and took a sip.

"Beats the dickens outta that merde (crap) my boyfriend was feedin' me, so merci beaucoup mon frère (thank you very much my brother) but you still need to get your butt out of here."

Bert took a seat on the side of the tub facing her, noting that she'd neither pulled down her skirt nor pulled up her panties, indicating she might be drunker than he'd anticipated. He grinned,

"You're starting to get a fuzzy little bush down there petite sœur (little sister)."

Making no attempt to cover herself, she glanced down and retorted, "Yeah? Well you're not supposed to be lookin' at your sister's bush, diggie vous (you dig), bubba?"

But she didn't close her legs...in fact he noted, she'd reflexively spread them slightly wider when she'd looked down... then still didn't close them. As she took another pull of the Crown, he wondered just how much she'd had to drink—perhaps he'd picked a very propitious time to make his proposition. She tried to refocus on the magazine then pushed her cat-eye glasses to the top of her head, muttering, "I'm not readin' so well—can't focus."

He said, "Forget the magazine—I want to run something by you—something important."

Saying, "So? Go ahead—I'm listenin," she still made no move to close her legs, and when he looked up she was eyeing him strangely, just the hint of a smile at the corner of her pretty mouth. Was she letting him look? She surely had finished peeing by now...he'd heard no telltale tinkling sounds since coming in...but she made no move to get up. Was she teasing him? God, he hoped so. That tight, cryptic smile seemed even more noticeable now. Bert would later learn that in addition to a very strong sex drive, his little sister was very much a tease and an exhibitionist. In fact, it was my discovery of those traits after we married that first set me to thinking about the possibility of making her into a hotwife, by appealing to her possible willingness to dance and do stripteases for other men. Her brother just learned of them a few years before I did, it seemed.

Deciding to just go for it, Bert began in his slow, measured manner of speaking, "Blondie, I'm twenty years old and I've never been with a woman—and we both know I'm probably not going to unless I find some girl just like me—and that's not going to be easy around here, specially one that's halfway attractive."

Her smile faded—replaced by a look of concern. "Oh, Bertie, I know, sugar, I know...an' if there's somethin' I could maybe do to help..." pausing mid-sentence when she noticed the intense way he was looking into her eyes and nodding his agreement.

"Now you wait just a minute here, Bertrand! I meant like maybe talkin' to one of the girls I know who are already screwin' boys...seein' if maybe they'd be willin' to..." but her voice trailed off and she just sat there looking at him in the charged silence...aware somehow that she had always known this moment would come...that someday her brother would bring his sexual problems to her...her being the most readily available solution. She had long suspected he was highly sexual, aware that he kept girly magazines and such, and was suspicious that he masturbated a lot as well, having heard suspect sounds from his room when she was in the bathroom. Until now, she hadn't been sure of what role she played in her brother's sexual fantasies, but now he needed what all young men need, physically handicapped or not...real sex...with a woman...and the female most accessible to him had just become a legally accessible woman...a woman who also just happened to share the intimacy of a bathroom with him.

Sighing into the silence, Blondie took a long pull from the glass she'd momentarily forgotten she was holding. Noting that she'd already consumed more than half of it, Bert pulled his flask from his robe pocket and held it up inquiringly. When she nodded, again with that crafty smile, he took the glass to the sink and topped it off, a bit stronger mix over the remaining ice this time. Handing it back, he was heartened by her willingness to continue drinking as well as her seeming nonchalance as to her semi-nudity, hoping the latter was something more than mere alcohol inspired inattention.

As he later related—it was more—quite a bit more. Holding the glass to her mouth, she watched him over the rim, not swallowing, just measuring his reaction as she angled her pale, milky thighs almost imperceptibly. Almost...but not so subtly that her brother failed to notice. When they later were discussing how their relationship had begun, Blondie had admitted to him that while she'd been shocked by what he wanted her to do, she'd also found herself getting aroused...her lust fueled in part by the evening's accumulation of alcohol in her small system... but even more so by her randy recollection of how powerfully pleasurable her date's digital endeavors had felt for the hour or so she had willingly let him fingerfuck her while they necked.

She'd almost come on those magical fingers—and had returned home with her libido still dancing on the tantalizing edge of that temptation. Now here she was, exposing herself to her brother instead of pleasing herself in her bed as she'd been planning...having her first pensées coquines (naughty thoughts) of how deliciously exciting it might be to let Bertie watch her do that...let her big brother watch her make herself come. He would love it...she was sure...but even more importantly, she was sure that so would she.

Bert thought his heart would explode when Blondie began slowly and seductively wagging her knees in a sort of sexual semaphoring...continuing to fix him with an appraising gaze...her lovely hazel eyes crinkling at the corners...and he realized she was grinning behind the glass. Her gaze never wavered but the grin morphed into a taunting smile as she lowered the drink and continued the inviting motions of her shapely young legs.

Saying, "Here...hold this..." she handed him her drink. With her eyes still locked on his face, she reeled off several squares of toilet paper and carefully folded them, watching her big brother's reaction when she slipped one foot from the panties at her ankles and spread her legs even wider to wipe herself. Seeing that his eyes were now fully focused on her girl parts, she smirked to herself as she held the tissue to her vulva, pressing upward to absorb any excess moisture, intentionally turning an ordinary act of ablution into one of sexual intimacy...confirming her own willing complicity in at least letting him have a good long look between her legs.

When she dropped the tissue into the toilet, a swift downward glance confirmed that her vaginal lips and the pink pearl of her clitoris were protruding from her pubic hairs, providing her brother an unhindered view of her sex. Looking directly into his eyes, she let her hand remain between her legs, the first three fingers beginning a slow rotation on the pink folds of skin covering her clitoris. She sighed as if in surrender,

"Okay, Bertie, here's the deal: I'm not gonna screw you, but I am willin' to help you get your nuts off 'cause I know all you boys need to do that or you get all messed up."

"So, I'll let you look..." She paused, thinking about the magical fingers of her new boyfriend, "An' maybe even touch a little...but that's as far as it goes. I'm still a virgin 'cause I don't wanna risk gettin' pregnant an' mama's not about to let me go on the pill 'til I graduate...so I sure as hell don't wanna get knocked up, specially by my brother, tu sais (you know), cher?"

"I totally understand you've got a problem an' I promise I'm gonna try to help—I'll see if I can't find one of the girls who're already puttin' out to give you a break—an' I'll help you get off, but I am not goin' to screw you, comprenez vous (do you understand)?"

Then with a mischievous grin she teased in an innocent voice, "Okay, frère cher (brother dear) I'm already showin' you mine—you gonna show me yours?"

Without a word, Bert unbelted his robe, revealing his underlying nakedness and a large erection which his sister had been silently noting as it pushed against the concealing corduroy material...a telltale bulge that had factored into her decision...if she were to be honest about it...a truth she had later revealed to Bert in their subsequent conversations...she had most definitely wanted to see it...perhaps even touch it.

Blondie's eyes widened a bit and she murmured with obvious interest and approval, "Well, my oh my oh my...will you just look at that," as her hand began a more rapid and intense stimulation of her vulva.

Without even being asked, she sat up from her slumped-back position and quickly removed her blouse. Reaching back to unclasp her bra, she revealed her small breasts before reclining against the upright lid and resuming her self-pleasuring. There was, understandably, no mention of it in Bert's writings, but when I questioned my wife about that first time, many years later, she in fact confirmed that as he began stroking his cock harder his left eye had begun to track slightly outward...a variance that had become more pronounced as he became more excited. It was a phenomenon she would later come to closely associate with their sibling sexplay as a sign of how heatedly she had him aroused, and particularly as an indicator that he was nearing climax.