Frosted Cherry Icee

In the corner of a shadow-soaked bedroom, the pile of blankets stirs. From within, the long breaths of a sleeping 20 year-old can just barely be heard. The air is dead and silent.

Footsteps grow louder outside the door, which then swings open. A woman has already crossed half the span of the clothing-littered floor. Her nose crinkles a bit as she draws in the room's stale scent. She reaches the black-out curtains and tosses them open.

Daylight cuts through the gloom. She casts a long shadow, and places her hands on her hips to appreciate the view. Hazel eyes are caught in the light. The left iris is cut with a jagged green streak. Over this first month of summer, freckles have sprouted across her cheeks and shoulders.

When no groans of objection are heard, she looks down at the living glob of laziness that has taken residence in her apartment. There is a smug apathy in the way she holds herself that suggests she's grown accustomed to this very sight. Accustomed and impatient, too. With a tug, the protective comforter is ripped away. At last her brother is revealed, curled up fetal position. His softly shut eyes instantly clinch tight, and the whine she'd been waiting for finally elicits.

"Mooooommmmmm!" the word dies behind a pillow that he's smashed across his own face.

"I'm not your mother, idiot." Even though you sure are making me act like one, she thinks. "Get dressed, I'm taking you to a matinee."

There is a long silence. The woman has no patience for his weakness. She wraps her cold fingers around her brother's ankle. He instantly recoils.

He yelps out an 'ok!'

She crosses her arms, almost amused. He hasn't moved an inch.

"Now, you little shit."

The most dramatic sigh is followed by an oscar-winning display of exhaustion as her deadbeat brother levers himself up and out of bed.

He squints at her from beneath a flurry of dark brown hair, streaked with expensive bleached highlights. She hates how hot he looks, and how much of her food he eats, and how few hours he works at his shit job.

He has the audacity to gesture for her to 'get the fuck out of my room, please.'

Her head tilts to the side slightly, arms still crossed. She shakes it, predator eyes never leaving his bare chest.

Not on your life.

"Get dressed," she orders.

The young man tosses his head back in exasperation, but is obedient. He removes his sweatpants and boxers, becoming fully naked before his own sister. She drinks in the sight of his back and buttocks as he bends over his dresser, reaching deep to the back of the nearly empty drawer for a fresh pair of boxers and socks. No way in hell has she been doing his laundry.

The woman pulls her eyes away at last, and searches the floor for something to make him wear. Their relationship has not always been thus: He the toy, and her the wanton player. But the seeds of it were planted when they were young, and try as she might to avoid it, her brother is too much of a waste. She has to domineer him to get anything done. Is she such a bad person if she's found her own twisted pleasure in it?

She spots a pair of piled up pajama pants in blue plaid. She checks them over for cum stains, and to make sure they have a button fly.

"No underwear today," she says, holding out the pants. "Put these on. You can pick your shirt."

Her brother has just turned around with a roll of fresh boxers. He drops them back in the drawer.

After he's finished dressing she kisses him on the mouth, long and sensuous. She has to be sure he'll struggle to hide his embarrassment, today. Her fingers, manicured to cream-dipped points, play across his hips and lower back.

When she finally pulls away, she looks down at his crotch. His penis is prominent. Through the thin fabric, the perfect silhouette of it's bell-curved head can be seen. She pulls the fabric to the side less than an inch, and his penis springs out into open air, through the fly. She is delighted by the precariousness of his modesty. His hands have grabbed onto her hips to steady himself. She instinctively rips them away.

"Your breath stinks. Brush your teeth and meet me in the car."

She says this while walking out of his room.

The young man twists his waistband about, and manages to slip his stiffened cock inside them. He stomps over to the bathroom, unable to keep from nursing the erection through his pants.

He feels annoyed at being so rudely awakened. Looking into the bathroom mirror, though, his sour mood is slowly eclipsed by the guilt of whiling his summer away in his room. Well, it wasn't even his room. It was his sister's spare bedroom/study he'd overtaken. He can still remember the night he'd dropped his twin size mattress into the corner. He can see dark circles under his eyes from the long nights in front of a screen. The pale cast of his skin, unlike the freckle-dusted tan of his sister, is a testament to his hermitage.

Though her imperiousness is frustrating, part of him thrills in the loss of control. He is addicted to the shameful boners and compromising situations she gets him into for the same reasons that he is currently flunking out of college and failing to cover his half of rent in his sibling's apartment. It feels so much better to not have the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Let someone else drive--even if it's off a cliff. The trade off is worth it. He is his sister's fuck toy. Her pathetic sex slave.

He was one of the lucky ones, all things considered. Thanks to the unfiltered half-bullying that comes out of every middle-school boys mouth, he learned quite early on that his older sister is hot.

Seven years ago, once he'd hit puberty at thirteen, he came to agree with that observation. She is five years older than him, which meant by the time his dick knew up from down, his sister's breasts had established their prominence upon her chest. From that point on, it had waged war against the curving fortitude of her widening ass.

His uncouth attraction to her happened for a few reasons. Though he can see a lot of himself in her appearance, he's gotten more of his looks from his father's Japanese heritage than she. Thus, when he sees her strikingly different lips wrap around any long food, such as a curving banana or melting popcicle, he imagines something different from most brothers.

On top of that, he's just an exceptionally horny little shit.

A car horn blares from the street below. He hears his sister's voice yelling. All the words are lost in the roar of city life, but the message is clear. Hurry up, god damn it. He sighs, and finishes dressing. The clothes barely cover him. He still has a chub when he's locking the door, and praying no one sees him.

On the drive, she only stops ignoring him to belittle him. She drops blatant insults about his inability to do most things--including succeed, or pay his measly bills. At a stop light, she forces him to reveal his dick. At first he resists, and so she grabs and pulls his hair until he complies. Once it's out, flaccid and pathetic upon his lap, she ignores him again. He is too intimidated to try and hide it again. When they arrive at the theater, he manages to slip it back inside his pants while getting out of the car. She does not comment.

The theater is quiet, with only a few folks-- mostly older, the young man notices-- milling around in the lobby. The overpriced buckhunting arcade game in the mostly barren video arcade side is currently being dominated by a portly old man.

His sister buys them tickets for a comedy movie he's been hoping to see called American Pie. Surprised by this unselfish behavior, he thanks her. She answers only with a smile.

He is barely dressed. He has to hover one hand constantly over the flap of his pants, with as much nonchalance as he can muster, to prevent any accidental tip slips. She, on the other hand, is done up like a 'rich bitch'. Perfect makeup with wing-tipped eyeliner, died-red hair tied back in a neat pony, and her 147 pound figure shaped into knockout-curves by a pair of black-camo exercise leggings and a dark green full coverage sports-bra. If anyone were to guess their relationship, they might be mistaken: a try-hard mother taking her unenthused son out on a "Sun-date"; or maybe a rebellious daughter sticking it to her parentals by dating a slob.

She purchases a large cherry icee and hands it to him before they go to auditorium 3. They are both soon sitting in one of the greatest chairs ever invented: a motorized reclining couch with dual cupholders. Melting into the supple seating and taking a sip from the sweet beverage, he becomes suspicious. Too many comfortable, pleasant things are happening. Before he can get his guard up, though, his sister steals the icee from out of his hand, and puts it on her side of the love seat.

The first 30 minutes of the movie goes smoothly. Though the jokes are raunchy, he is not perturbed to be watching this with his sister. Her hand grabs his thigh and shakes it.

He leans over and hisses "What?"

"Look behind you." She whispers back. They catch eyes for a moment. She flicks her chin towards the back of the theater.

He cranes his neck to see. His eyes go wide.

The big-game buck hunter is wrist deep in his wife's pants. Her breasts are naked, and she's got her eyes closed, biting her lip to hold in the moans. There are more rolls of fat and wrinkles than he'd prefer to have known about. Though he thought the hunter elderly, apparently he is lively enough to get randy at the movies. The young man's eyes are silver dollars as he turns back to the silver screen.

His sister is at his ear. His nose brushes hers as he turns. He is a twitch away from her balm-sticky lips. The movie glints in the corner of her eye. 'God,' he thinks, 'she's so beautiful.'

"They've been at it since the lights went out. I saw them kissing at first. Guess who's idea it was to take their clothes off?"

He pointedly ignores the question while settling back into his seat.

"It was the woman's, of course."

The suggestion comes out as a purr. She places a confident hand on his thigh again, and starts to trace her fingers in long circles. Goosebumps spark in the wake of her touch. Her whispered secret has aroused his senses. The sight of raw lust behind him has gotten his mind onto sex. And now his sister's calculated touch goads a rush of blood to his manhood. It is a velvet agony in it's slow and steady rise.

"Oh my, you finally awake this morning?"

Her eyes flit down to look at his bulge, which casts a long shadow up his stomach from the screen's glow. Her hand is still on his thigh, softly soothing him. Her fingers brush the tented fabric, causing indirect stimulation to shock him with pleasure. The single, flimsy button holding his fly shut is barely hanging on. It leaves two large holes, fastened in the middle of the long flap. One false move, and the head of his dick would slip through into the open air, just like this morning.

"Don't, please, I'm really embarrassed," he whispers back, voice tremoring. "I don't want people to see me like this."

He tries to reposition his pants to keep decent, and his mind goes blank for a moment from the sudden pleasure as his sensitive dick slides across the taut fabric. His hips jerk involuntarily, and a small section of his glans slips out. Now, the hem of the fly was only half-draped over his hard tip, and he saw the right side of his penis illuminated by the action on screen.

His sister's hand freezes. She is looking down at his nakedness. Her lips part slightly, and she catches the tip of her tongue between her teeth. She appears dazed. He is too mortified to move. His mouth is suddenly dry. He swallows, tries to speak.

"I-"

She lifts her hand from his leg, and puts a finger to her lips.

She leans in close to his ear, and her breath, cool from the icee she's been drinking, runs down the side of his neck as her words wash over him. Her hand falls slowly to his leg again and caresses his thigh in a very 'misplaced' attempt to soothe his nerves.

"Everything's alright." He hears the soft click of saliva on his sister's lips when she wets them with her tongue before continuing. The sound sends cold goosebumps down his neck. "That woman behind us is wearing less than you. Besides, erections are so common. I'll bet we passed a dozen of them on our way here from the apartment. Just focus on the movie, OK? It will go away on it's own."

Her suggestion to pretend normalcy wafts to his nose on a cloud of sweet cherry scent. She takes another sip of her drink and resumes watching the film.

A passion fights within him. He wants desperately for her to leap upon him, ride his throbbing cock bareback on these fake leather seats. But more than that, he wants not a single soul to lay eyes upon his nakedness.

With iron jaw, he turns to the movie again. His sister keeps him on desire's tightrope, teetering to one side and then the other for each pull and prod her hand makes on the big-top he's pitching. He sweats when anyone walks down the aisle in front of him, but thankfully no one is inclined to look the opposite direction of the movie.

He manages to ignore the cruel sexual advances for little more than a minute before one of the main characters sticks his dick in an apple pie. The absurdity sends a hearty laugh down his frame. His dick, still stiff with blood, wobbles about in it's precarious tent, and to his confused horror, the thin protection slides off his glans fully, and his penis becomes completely revealed.

He gasps and sits up, catching his sister by surprise. The first thing she looks for is his crotch. Catching sight of his exposed manhood, she pounces. Her engagement ring glints as her hand closes around his shaft. The relief of feeling her soft fingers, all their delicate touches and micro movements, shocks him into stillness. With her other hand, she is rummaging through her purse. Apparently unable to find her goal, she hisses a curse word. She looks about keen to see if anyone is watching them.

Everyone else is still laughing uproariously at the movie. The two sexual deviants behind them have gone unnoticed. She feels fairly confident that they will, too.

Her brother's hand tightens on her wrist. He barely restrains a greedy thought to encourage her hand up and down. At the same time, he can't bring himself to pull her hand away.

"This isn't helping," he manages to say through gritted teeth. His heart is leaping with fear that they'll be caught, and fear that the sensation will stop.

She pushes his dick forward, like taking an airplane into a nosedive. He goes careening into lust with it. She jostles his dick back into his pants. She hesitates to let go, leans quickly towards him.

"You need to get control of yourself, young man." She whispers sternly.

He is taken aback. Is he getting in trouble right now? "I- If I had been allowed to put on some other pants, this wouldn't be happening!" He hisses.

"Don't blame others for your own actions." She counters, easily. "I can only think of one way to solve this problem. Your older sister is going to have to take care of everything for you, isn't she?"

That last question is followed by another quick dive into her bag. This time, she lets go of him to use both hands for digging. If he was uncertain before, he finally realizes his true desires. The loss of his sister's touch wrenches through him.

He is still pining for her, working up the courage to ask for more, when she pulls a small towel emblazoned with the words "Globo Gym" and a purple viper from out of her purse. The towel drapes over his lap, and he clutches the edge of the seat as she once again maneuvers his cock out of his pants.

"Do not cum on my towel, I need it for spin class this afternoon." There is clear threat in her voice, while at the same time her fingers tense and pull slowly up from the base of his penis. As if by magic, the feeling of cool, glorious lotion smears along his shaft. She had squirted some into her palm while digging through her purse. The woman is a natural.

He is filled with delight. His thighs tense as he stretches out in the seat. Stimulation rocks down his body. The movie fades away to alien noises and lights as her handjob overtakes his mind. She jerks him slowly, making the towel rise and fall almost imperceptibly. The undeniable chirping and clicking of lotion-caked flesh rubbing together resounds in the split-second silences between lines from the movie.

The sex act is at once limitless and extremely short. He gets lost in the unrelenting touch of his older sister. Her hand subtley twists as it pulls up, then releases tension. On the way down, her skin slides against his, tracing the vein-bumped profile with delicacy. He has no idea that her touch is experienced and capable. He has no other experience to compare it to besides his own hand.

He feels the taut edge of his climax appear. It starts pressing against his restraint. He wants to obey his sister. To not cum on the towel. But removing the thin covering will send his semen flying across the movie theater. He is so pent up, it might even splatter the seats one row down. He cant bring himself to commit to such a lurid display. Paralyzed with indecision, he only taps his sister's shoulder rapidly.

She flicks off the towel. His dick is so rigid that the skin across the head is pulled tight. It glistens even in the low light. He watches in helpless fascination as she takes the domed plastic lid from her icee cup and holds it like a bowl before his imminent climax. Her palm covers the strawhole from the back.

She pulls his penis downward, pointing into the make-shift cup. She picks up the pace, pulling steadily and quickly along his shaft. Her arm is working vigorously. When a whispered, lust-filled "oooo yeahhhh baby" escapes her lips, he can barely hang on. Yes, sometimes real life is just like a porno.

During this handful of most scandalous and vulnerable moments, they are seen by at least three people. Only one gets up to leave the theater in disgust. The other two are just glad this show has better actors than Mr. Arcade and his wily woman in the nosebleeds. The younger brother doesn't notice his worst fear coming to life. He is pulled across the precipice of release.

Hips thrust involuntarily. His mind lights off fireworks. The broad cup lid catches all five wild spurts of semen, one by one. His eyes lock onto her every minor movement. Her breasts tremble softly with each cum-soaked jerk. Her fingers form a precious shape, wrapped around him like that. Her nails are movie-star perfect, glinting in the dark.

He is stunned. His sister's hand continues to milk the last dregs of cum from him. It drips out into the already sizable pool of the lid's wall. When she is satisfied he is empty, she delicately maneuvers his seed across their laps, and then smoothly dribbles it into her icee cup. He hears the soft plats of his essence as it falls into the melting treat.

He notices how ambidextrous she is while she cleans up. She easily hides his softening cock back in his pajamas with her right hand and clicks the lid into place with her left. She smears the excess lotion from her hand across the front of his pants.

He lets his head fall back into the seat and breathes a huge sigh of relief. The air tastes delicious, and not because it smells of butter and popcorn. He takes one last look around, but sees no quickly averted gazes, nor disgusted stares. His heart calms down as he incorrectly assumes no one caught them. Instead, they had just inspired a couple to fuck in their car after the show.

Throughout the rest of the movie, he can't help but notice each time his sister takes a long swallow of her now cum-frosted icee. He feels a certain comradery with the character in the movie who manages to seduce his friend's mother. And even though he is fully satisfied, his penis stiffens once he hears the tell-tale rasping of a straw sucking at the bottom of an empty cup. But by that time, the movie is almost over.