Blondie Beds Her Needy Brother Pt. 01

"On my tummy...come on my tummy, baby, an' my titties...but not on my pussy...not even on the outside, vous m'entendez (you hear me)?"

By Bert's account it took every bit of willpower he possessed to comply with his petite soeur's demand, even with the tempting alternate target she was offering, but he did. And again, after several day's abstinence, he had a lot to deposit there on that soft little belly. It erupted with such force that the first creamy jet hit her in the neck, under her chin, and the subsequent two on her breasts, with only the diminished remaining spurts actually impacting her fecund little belly.

Although little Blondie was driven to the brink of orgasm by her brother's ejaculation, she did not achieve it. But this time she was so close that she let him insert his fingers in her while she applied her own hands to her clitoris until together they brought her to her own huge climactic finish. Also this time, she gave her brother a few minutes respite before sending him back to his room, a brief, breath-gathering interlude during which they agreed that the act they'd just completed was incomparably better without the pleasure-reducing presence of a prophylactic.

Bert noted that night's incestual intercourse established their pattern for the remaining ten-plus weeks or so of that summer with Blondie agreeing to take care of her disabled brother's needs at least once a week. By his account, however, the actual rate of occurrence was actually more frequent, as in twice a week being more common, that frequency apparently driven by the newly deflowered eighteen-year-old's own newfound need for regular sexual gratification that routinely included intercourse as well as masturbation.

The pattern for that intercourse was established as well—no condoms—with him pulling out prior to climax and her usually achieving a post-intercourse orgasm via masturbation. There was no further experimentation after she summarily threatened to cut him off completely after he raised the topic of oral sex, reminding him pointedly that her purpose was to relieve his normal sexual pressures not to provide him with exotic pleasures. Nor was there any kissing for the same reason. It would take several more months for Blondie to discover the additional sexual pleasures of oral sex and then only with a boyfriend whom she finally gave in to once Bert had departed for his expensive special schooling in New England. Sibling kissing was to come a bit sooner.

I now fast-forward to my admittedly limited recounting of Bert's much more extensively chronicled events once he had returned to Baton Rouge from New England many months later. I had burned myself a copy of his journal that fateful Thanksgiving afternoon and subsequently read it several times before printing it out and showing it to Blondie, a very consequential act which led to further, adult, sibling sexual adventures which will be related here in future stories.

I assume the dialogue is reasonably accurately reconstructed in accordance with Bert's uncanny and remarkable ability to recall details of long ago conversations...he could sometimes give you an almost verbatim account of a conversation you had long ago forgotten. his speech is depicted as what he intended to convey in the conversations...not his exact pronunciations...giving the reader the inaccurate impression that his speech is normal and without impediments.

Oddly enough, Bert's impaired speech did not have the pronounced drawl of his little sister nor did he drop his final consonants, as both she and their parents frequently did in casual conversation, something I never fully understood. It may have had something to do with other neurological effects of the childhood meningitis on his speech. Their family language was a unique admixture of drawled Southern English peppered throughout with bayou French delivered in that more abrupt Cajun manner.

Not having been raised in Acadiana, I was certainly no authority on Louisiana linguistics, but I knew that a Cajun accent had at one time been something to rid oneself of among better educated and more affluent, urbanized, Acadian families, and Blondie's was no exception. Her parent's had insisted she and her brother take French courses in school so that both could speak it properly even if doing so incurred the mockery of ordinary Cajuns. They'd even hired a private tutor to accomplish that with Bert when he failed to keep up in class.

According to the journal, after woeful first semester final exams, Bert had come home that winter after dropping out of the private eastern school for students afflicted with mobility and communication problems like his. There being few special educational needs resources locally available in South Louisiana those days, he was going to be home for a while. While smart as a whip and physically capable of earning a degree, even having a career, Bert was lackadaisical and physically lazy, gradually coming to believe himself fully entitled to special treatment as well as his parents' full, lifelong financial support, due to his disease-induced handicaps. His doting parents had guiltily spoiled him rotten and even his little sister, as we now know, was overly protective of him.

A darkly handsome young man...reflective of his Gallic heritage...with all the customary sexual urges of youth, young Bert somewhat loosely resembled a television character of many years later: the protagonist's charming, developmentally-disabled, teenage son in the television series about the meth-making, high school chemistry teacher, although Bert's irregular movements were somewhat more pronounced and his speech considerably less intelligible to the uninitiated. However, Bert was more mobile and independent than the character depicted in that series, not requiring crutches or a wheelchair and he was fully able to drive the hand-me-down cars his parents provided him.

This naturally horny young man suddenly found himself once again living just down the short hallway...with only a communal bathroom between them...from this casually indifferent but ever more desirable young woman with whom he'd shared an exciting first sexual relationship the previous summer. He had naturally expected to resume their sibling liaisons immediately...but his coolly dispassionate little sister gave him no indication of being so inclined...despite her propensity for parading in and out of that shared bathroom insouciantly and immodestly in panties, bras and short little semi-see-through nighties...seemingly unconcerned about giving her big brother the random eyeful of her developing young body...though it appeared an eyeful was all she was in the mood to give him.

As Bert repeatedly noted, in his absence his little sister had grown into an even hotter little package that now kept his youthful hormones revving even faster...especially with him having gone without sex...except for frequent self-gratification...since going east to school and leaving his sibling source of sex behind. In his absence her curves had continued filling out nicely; her formerly coltish legs were now well-formed, with dimpled knees and tapering calves. She continued to bleach her thick hair, usually worn in a blonde bouffant, a look that had led to her family and schoolmates giving her the pet name of Blondie, which would last for life.

Bert's own youthful libido...kept simmering by his little sister's feminine flowering...really began to bubble one afternoon when one of his neighborhood buddies, Wesley, tipped him off that locker-room talk around school was that Blondie had become sexually active in his several months of absence... perhaps to the point of promiscuity. He wondered what Wes would think if he knew she had been putting out for her own brother the entirety of the previous summer.

Emboldened by Wes's revelation, Bert decided it was time to press the issue of his sexual needs once again with the cute little bite allumeuse (prick-teaser), as he had come to view her with her flaunting semi-nude, bathroom paradings. That night when little Blondie came in from a nominal coke date, Bert waited until he heard her in the bathroom getting ready for bed, then opened his bedroom door and slipped quietly down the hallway carrying a tumbler of Crown and water.

As usual, she hadn't fully closed the bathroom door and when he peeked through the narrow opening, he saw her at the sink beginning to remove her makeup with a cotton ball. She'd already changed into a short, pink, semi-sheer, babydoll nightie and as she leaned over the countertop, the hem rose up exposing the matching panties and his petite little sister's cute, round derrière.

Spotting his ogling image in the mirror, Blondie paused, fixed him with a challenging glare and asked quietly, "What are you doin' in here, Bertie? Can't you see I'm gettin' ready for bed?"

Ignoring her questions, Bert said, "Nice legs, sis...cute little butt, too...your body's filled out very nicely in the few months I've been gone."

Pausing her makeup removal, she threw him a defiant look over her shoulder and replied,

"Yeah, well, you can wipe that foolish grin off your face, right now big brother, 'cause you're not gettin' any more of it, ever again—those days of me takin' care of your sex problems are gone an' we're never goin back there again, comprenez vous (do you understand)?"

She wiped briskly at her face and said, "I've been wonderin' ever since you got back just how long it was gonna take you to get around to puttin' the moves on me. I knew you were gonna like the way my body's been comin' right along while you were gone...an' don't you even think I haven't seen the way you've been lookin' at me, checkin' out my boobs an' my ass."

With a mocking glance over her shoulder, she said saucily, "Just like you're checkin' 'em out right now, vous gros connard (you big jerk)."

"An' I'm sure you've been hopin' to take up right where we left off...but the answer is no...little sister's not puttin' out for you anymore. Now get outta here and close that door behind you."

Instead, he slipped into the room, drink in hand, and shut the door quietly, saying, "C'mon now, don't be such a cruelle petite salope (cruel little bitch), sis. I'm hurting—I haven't had anything but my hand since I went back east to school—you know it's virtually impossible for me to even get a date, much less get laid."

Relying on his old tried and true tactic, he set the sweating tumbler of Crown and water on the countertop beside her, saying, "Have a nightcap, sis." She eyed it suspiciously for just an instant before snatching it up and taking a deep swallow, then sighing in conflicted frustration,

"Look, better than anyone else, I'm sure, I am extremely aware of your sexual needs, Bertie. You've got a real strong sex drive an' you can't get laid...so, yeah, you have a real problem..."

"An' while I am sympathetic, I'm also grown up now...an' it's time for you to find someone else to take care of your damned ol' horny-all-the-damn-time problem, besides your little sister."

Bert implored, "C'mon, sis, I promise I won't bother you too often and it's not like I'll be the only one you're taking care of, right?"

Fixing him with a steady gaze, she inquired coolly, "And just what do you mean by that?"

He grinned wolfishly, "Wes told me the word's out that you're a real petite fille amusante (fun little girl)...that you're putting out...said he's heard more than one guy's going around bragging about getting in your pants."

He snickered, "Hey, girl, don't get me wrong...I'm not being critical. After I left, you needed somebody to give you what you'd been getting from me, didn't you?"

He mocked, "Bien sûr (Sure), you always tried to act like you didn't like it...that you were doing it just to help me...but you can cut all that crap with me because we both know you really did take a strong liking to it as soon as you got your first taste of how much fun it is to be a real-deal grownup girl, n'est-ce pas (don't we)?"

"And if you're already getting it on with other guys, what possible difference will screwing me once in a while make? I'll just be one more, so it's no big deal, petite soeur (little sister)."

With some exasperation, Blondie said, "Well for starters, you're not just one more...you're my brother...and next, it's morally wrong and we're both of legal age...so we'd prolly be breakin' the law an' could go to jail for it, you know?"

Turning back to the mirror, she muttered, "So even if I do happen to like screwin' boys—an' yes, I'm not denyin' that doin' it with you is what got me both started an' likin' it—startin' up with you again would be illegal, as well as immoral, tu sais (you know)?"

Locking the door and stepping in behind her, Bert cupped a palm on her soft butt cheek, swiftly sliding it between her legs, asking, "So who are these lucky guys you're screwing now? Any of them guys I know?"

Ignoring his question, she stiffened as his fingers brushed the gusset of her panties, but she neither tried to move away nor attempted to remove his hand. It had been a long while since he'd touched her so intimately, and she was not really surprised by the easy and immediately arousing familiarity of it...or the electric jolt of desire that was coursing through her.

Encouraged by her failure to remove his hand, Bert leered, "Wow, your sweet little pussy's real creamy, baby sister—am I getting you excited or is that a little something left over from your date tonight?"

With that she stepped away...slapping at his hand...hissing, "My sex life is none of your damned business, Bertie...now get the hell out of here and leave me alone, you big prick!"

"Speaking of big pricks," Bert grinned, grabbing the large curving bulge in his cotton pajamas, "You had one this big since I left?"

Little sister turned, her back to the mirror, facing him, and, in spite of her anger, could not prevent her eyes from dropping to her brother's impressive phallic display...unable to look away as he fumbled it out of his pajamas and began a slow, deliberate, stroking motion, a knowing, confident smirk on his dark, sensual face.

He taunted, "You sure you don't want to get reacquainted with this right now, little sister? I sure won't mind getting secondes bâclées (sloppy seconds)—won't bother me at all."

Lifting the invasive hand to his face, he sniffed and leered, "'Cause it sure smells like some lucky fella's been in there already tonight, hmm, baby girl?"

She spun her short body back to the mirror, resuming her makeup removal, and mocked,

"The only sex you're gettin' tonight, Bertie, is that branlette (handjob) you're givin' yourself, so if that will make you stop pesterin' me, go right ahead...look at my ass an' beat your meat, grand frère...might as well finish what you've already started."

He did, and for the next minute or so they were silent as she carefully examined individual facial blemishes, so carefully that Bert suspected she was delaying her departure, giving him time to get off. That thought made him groan and he saw Blondie's quick smirk. The little exhibitionist liked it...she liked showing off her maturing body...and as if to confirm that suspicion, she seemed to relent just a bit, saying in a more conciliatory tone,

"Okay, okay, tell you what, Bertie, I'll go this far—if I'm gonna let you stay in here an' finish whackin' off while I keep gettin' ready for bed..." She paused, her voice and attitude softening as she conceded in a suddenly more gentle voice,

"Then I suppose I could at least give you a little somethin' more to look at—maybe take this nightie off and let you check out how much my titties have grown, while you go ahead an' play with your pecker, okay?" Then, as if in planned justification, she almost smiled, sighing,

"I mean it's not like I'm showin' you anything you haven't seen a whole buncha times before, right, cher?"

Bert grunted, "Hell yeah! And get those panties off, too, petite pute (you little slut)—I want to see that fuzzy little muff again."

Twisting around once again, and actually smiling tightly at him for the first time since he'd come in, little Blondie shook her head ruefully and said, "Here I am tryin' to be nice an' help you with your problem, an' you're orderin' me around like some mean ol' jerk an' callin' me names."

Sighing, she said, "I'm prolly gonna regret this but oh what the hell," she gripped the hem of the nightie with both hands and pulled it off over her mussed blonde mane. Hooking her thumbs into the elastic waistband, she shrugged the pink panties down her legs and stepped out of them. In a flash this diminutive little eighteen-year-old sex kitten was standing there in all her adorable glory. Bert was beaming triumphantly and his erection was sticking out proudly, the object of his sister's increasingly interested appraisal.

She said in a low voice, "Make sure that door's locked, okay?" The three bedrooms on this end of their long, ranch style home were separated from their parents' master bedroom suite on the opposite end of the house by a large kitchen, dining, and den/living area. Their parents weren't particularly strict, permitting their children to stay up late and read, even allowing them to play music if they kept the volume low. In addition, they were sound sleepers who kept their own bedroom door closed and both had minor hearing problems, so there was little chance of Bert and Blondie being discovered as long as they kept things quiet.

Glancing down at her crotch, little Blondie smirked, "You oughtta like this. Ma petite chatte poilue (my hairy little pussy) isn't just fuzzy anymore, it's actually hairy...gotten a lot hairier since the last time I let you get this close to it."

Bert's hand shot out to her groin and a finger slid between her slickened labia, attempting to penetrate. Blondie slapped it away and hissed, "No touchin', Bertie, dammit! None, diggie vous (you dig)?"

She cocked her head, fixing him with a look of vexation, "Look, brother, I'm givin' you a huge break here just lettin' you look while you jackoff, like I used to, so don't push your luck, okay?"

Bert gazed at her a moment then nodded contritely, properly chastised. She eyed him skeptically for several seconds before continuing, "Okay then, I'll let you look all you want...well, until you get off at least...but no touchin' my body, comprenez vous (you understand)?"

Cupping her hands under her small conical breasts and thumbing the pert, pink nipples, she asked coyly, "How 'bout these? How do you like ma petit nichons (my little titties) now that they're fillin' out some more, Bertie?"

Bert choked out his grateful admiration "They're beautiful—you're beautiful when you take those dorky glasses off, sis—Jeezus, you really are a little hottie just like Wes says, a gorgeous little sex kitten."

With a gloating smile, Blondie tittered, "Little Wesley said that? That I'm a sex kitten? Well, bless his little ol' heart."