Bro's Rainy Day Jacking Display

"Please do!" I pipped the words, my vocal cords betraying the excitement I would soon feel in my cunny, my cumming coming from (almost literally) fucking thin air: As my brother lay naked again on his bed, gazing at Phone Girl and frigging his big penis, my hips moved in unconscious unison with his.

The catch of my swollen clit, as it dragged the fabric of my panties, produced in me an orgasm as magnificent as they make 'em — rouging my cheeks and splotching my Almásy Bosphorus in a way that can linger for seeming-ages afterwards, betraying my self-play.

"Had a nice cum, I see," Mom always says to me whenever she spies the tell-tale purplish mottling at my throat.

"Yeah," I'll admit, grinning sheepishly. "But now I'm hungry."

I was still coming down from my cumming when my brother — with a gasp and a "hurk!" — sent aloft another impressive volley of semen.

The sight of this somehow touched my tingling clit — as if the tip of my brother's penis were actually there. And thusly relayed a message from my pussy to the forefront of my consciousness: "In me. That jizz. It needs to be in me." My heart started thudding all over again...

...

From that day on, Bro was comfortable (more than comfortable!) masturbating in front of me — whenever. Which turned out to be all the time. Teenage boys and their perpetual hard-ons! It's a form of servitude, really.

I mean, I get so excited at times when we're up in the country I feel like humping a tree; and I've had weekends in the city where all I can do is lie nude in my bed all day, reading erotica and masturbating, making myself cum over and over until finally I crash into a Brothers Grimm slumber: the original fairy tale princess all-jilled-out, passed-out and dreaming of a good hard fucking.

I was sprawled naked in my bed on such a Sunday not long ago — panting, perspiring, almost dizzy from just having cum so hard, when my dad knocked on the door, wanting to "check on how my baby is doing." (I've since learned not to announce a jill-a-thon to my family as: "I'm not feeling well. Staying in bed today.")

I flung the sheet over my trembling, sweat-soaked body. Daddy came into my room — saw the trembling, the sweat, felt my piping hot forehead — and dashed right out again. From the corridor outside my room, the following exchange:

MOM, to Daddy: "Where are you off to in such an all-fire hurry?"

DADDY, anxiously: "Katie's spiking a fever! I'm going to make her an ice pack."

MOM: "That's a good idea. I'm sure she could use an ice pack. But not for her head."

DADDY, irritably: "What are you talking about? Our baby is spiking a fever."

MOM, drolly: "'Spiking a fever.' Yeah, right. I suppose you could call it that, what she's been doing in there all morning."

DADDY: "Huh?" (Then, either catching-on or responding to some obscene gesture of mom's): "Ohhhhhh. Got it."

(A rustling sound outside my door, and Mom's voice: "Something else is spiking, I see." Daddy, groaning.)

MOM: "That turns you on, Daddy? Gets your big dick all hard like this? Your little nude daughter playing with her quim, making herself cum?"

And soon — as if inevitably — I could hear, through the wall behind my headboard, the distinctive sound of my parents joyfully fucking. (It's a thick wall, by the way.)

So I have days like that. But I feel like such an amateur, masturbationwise, compared with my brother — and also, oddly, like a bit of a cheat; a fraud, even. True, I jill almost every night at bedtime. But sometimes, while I'm doing it, I just... fall asleep. This didn't even slightly vex me, I gave no thought to it at all — till I witnessed my big brother's masturbatory zealotry, his carnal need to cum. Wow!, I reflected. That's commitment to a cause!

After that first fateful day of rain pounding the roof while Bro's fist pounded his dick, I made no secret of my enthusiasm, watching Benjy masturbate. For one thing, he always took off all his clothes: yum!

I also got turned on by the way he continued to feign ignoring me, like it was no big deal to be nude in front of his little sister, openly stroking his erect penis, working himself to such a level of gasping and thrashing excitement, then jizzing all over his chest and tummy.

And it turns out that boys pillow-hump! Or, in my brother's case: mattress-fuck. He would lie face down with one arm tucked under him, his hand clasping his thigh — thrusting. First of all: OMG what a cute butt!! It was mesmerizing, watching my brother's tanlined ass going up and down, up and down, as he slid his engorged penis along the fitted flannel sheet topping his mattress. ("Yeah, we're burning that mattress when your brother gets married," Mom likes to joke.)

Raised up as he was by the position of his arm, my brother's dick was always perfectly in view. That's what he looks like when he fucks a girl, I thought to myself. Not just any girl... — my thoughts wandered incestuously, beyond the bounds of any conscious control, as I gazed upon this astonishingly intimate scene of male beauty in the throes of imminent orgasm.

My brother, my own beautiful brother: His eyes squeezed shut... His exhalations of pleasure and desire as he built and built to his spurt, sliding his penis back and forth along the pad... The way the cum came streaming out even before he "technically" — came. What is that? It's not precum, as I used to think of it. What is it called, that cumming before cumming, that pre-ejaculatory flow, that guys do?

"I do?" said my brother, when I put the question to him. "I had no idea I even did that."

Useless! Typical guy!! But my brother afforded me so many new insights into what gets a guy off. And his mattress-loving also awakened my yearning to observe a beautiful nude male body in the act of sex. I was still several months away from discovering something called "gay porn" (hee hee) — and the fact that straight girls like me like to masturbate to it.

Look: I never said I'm not slow when it comes to figuring out things the whole world seems to already know about sex! Or, at least, things which Canada, Northern Europe, Australia-New Zealand, and certain "urban corridors" in America seem to already know about sex. As my best girlfriend blushingly admitted to me: "Ohmygod, Katie! I've been jilling to gay porn for — for months now! Do you know what a 'twink' is?"

Yeah, I do, Annie: you're describing my brother, basically. A guy who is inherently boyish and cute; lean-muscled, sports-tanned, well-depilated, or, as in my brother's case, peach-fuzzed from the getgo. Constantly horny and just as constantly squirting semen hither and yon.

I thought about my brother's playing with himself — how could I think of anything else? — whenever I petted my kitty now. I was still too shy to jill in front of him, but I was increasingly feeling bolder. I knew it would just be a matter of... the right moment... coming along...

Then, late one night up in the country something woke me, or perhaps I hadn't been quite asleep — a sound, maybe? No, it was the light from Ben's phone. And the absence of sound. My brother was masturbating very quietly. Most unusual. Given the new arrangement in our room since the rainy days of springtime.

I peered into the darkness, forgetting to breathe, out of the curiosity of it all. I could just make out the image bobbing up and down on my brother's phone as he jerked his dick: a nude girl, her white cotton bikini panties held by her long fingers at mid-thigh; her hips swiveled so as to best-display her open all-bare-there cunny; her smile wide and welcoming and saying, "I want your hard penis right here in my pussy!"

You know it.

Me.

I gasped.

My brother's head snapped back. His wide eyes met mine.

***

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This is where, traditionally, one optimistically — and with all the best intentions in the world — types the words: "TO BE CONTINUED."

Not for me, thanks — although I can see the adventures of Katie and Benjy and Mom and Daddy unfurling before me. (Annie and the twin boyfriends, too — Jackson and Pete are, of course, incestuously straight-gay; and I can imagine them introducing Big Bro Ben to the joys of boy-boy butt sex.)

Everything depends on whether this story is actually deserving of continuing. Which is not for me to decide. It's entirely up to you, dear reader. Readers: It's HOT, algorithmically, or it's not.

So sign in, please, and vote. The enjoyment of others is really the only thing that ever motivates me to do anything. (This, and not having my work arbitrarily deleted.)

Your comments are also so tremendously encouraging and helpful. I thank you as always for your kind attention.

xoxo, Zoey Z