Milking My Brother

Not my brother's body, you understand.

But the strapping male body that happened to belong to him.

Sunday

When I awoke the next day, I had calmed down a great deal. There were apparent cum stains in my pajamas. Nothing like a good sleep (wet dream?) to bring a woman back to her senses.

I didn't feel quite so haunted by Jacob's beautiful penis that morning, although I did keep checking on it throughout the day. Sometimes I would outright stare at its fat outline in the tight joggers I'd deliberately dressed him in. I figured it didn't matter because it wasn't as though he could see me gawking.

He was cheerful as usual when I went to get him to escort him downstairs for breakfast.

"Ready to get dressed?" I asked brightly.

"You bet," he said, trying to sound equally as chipper.

Somehow I had forgotten I'd left him in bed without clothes the night before. But he was flaccid this morning, which I noted with some disappointment before reminding myself it was supposed to be a blessing.

And yet still I could not divert my eyes away from his groin. Even limp, his cock was so thick and pendent, hanging like a bell between his sinewy thighs. He may have had the most perfect body I'd ever seen on a human.

I helped him step into his jogging pants and pulled them up. I remained in front of him the whole time, my eyes focused on the prize. I'm not sure I even remembered to tell myself it was weird anymore.

I simply ogled his body like any healthy female of the species would. I decided even Mom would likely have done the same. There was nothing weird about noticing our Jacob was a fine specimen of a young man; it hardly meant we were attracted to him sexually! I mean, for heaven's sake.

That afternoon I had cheerleader practice at Traci's house.

"You sure it's ok for me to leave you?" I asked my brother. "It's gonna be like 90 minutes max."

"It's fine, sis. Go have fun. I'm gonna stay right here in this chair until you get back."

"There's a glass of water by your side, with a straw. And a bag of chips I've opened for you. You could bend down and eat them off the plate if you get hungry."

'I'll be fine. I'm not going to attempt anything crazy, I promise. Go shake your pom-pom's with the girls."

I tried one last time before exiting the house: "I don't have to do this, you know. I can cancel." I wanted him to need me to stay.

"Alice ... Go!" he said.

"Sorry. I'm fussing! If you need anything, get Siri to call me ..."

***

I could barely focus during practice. Traci was being a bossy bitch as usual, which didn't help. But my mind was elsewhere the whole time. I kept thinking about Jacob, and not his well-being during my absence, but his beautiful erect cock and how much I longed to see it again. I found myself wondering what it might be doing at that moment, like it was a puppy I'd left at home. Might it be thinking of me?

When practice was over, one of the girls on the team - my close friend, Katya - asked me if everything was ok:

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "I'm just worried about my brother."

"Oh yeah. How's he doing? He's home now, right?"

"He's home. But he still needs a lot of care."

"Isn't your Mom in Chicago? Who's looking after him?"

"I'm kind of his nurse right now," I said. "Which is why I really need to get back..."

"You sure you're ok?" she asked me again.

"I'm fine, Katya. I just need to get back to him ..."

***

By the time I arrived home, Jacob was still in his chair. He hadn't ventured to the restroom to pee for fear of colliding with the wall or something. He was better at finding his way around upstairs than on the ground floor. So the first thing I did was escort him to the toilet to take a leak.

The heat was oppressive again that afternoon. And around 5 PM I asked him nonchalantly, "Are you sure you don't want to take a shower before dinner tonight? It's so hot!"

"I mean, I can manage," he said humbly.

"But which would you prefer?"

"Put it this way," he said. "If I had arms and eyes, I would totally jump in the shower right now."

"Then let's do it!" I said, clapping my hands. Why did I clap my hands? "Damn mosquitoes!" I added, trying to cover.

"We really don't have to ..."

"No, come along," I insisted. "I don't want you to be hot and sticky because of my laziness."

I hoped the whole thing would sound like a martyrable sacrifice on my part.

By the time I was turning on the jets of the shower, I felt an almost delirious desire to see him naked again. And when it came time to remove his shirt, place him in the gloves, and slip down his pants, my heart skipped several beats as his beautiful biceps and ass appeared.

I was disappointed he was flaccid again, but he was still a sight to behold.

Once he was positioned in the shower cubicle, I frothed up my hands with soap and placed them on his back. I decided to use a softer, more feminine touch tonight - not for any sensual reason, you understand, but because he deserved better than being washed by an automaton.

He seemed to respond to it too, letting out an involuntary sigh of pleasure that he quickly curtailed. I massaged his broad shoulders and back, letting my soapy fingers reach around his sides and meet across his chest. I couldn't help staring down at the state of his crotch. I felt disappointed he wasn't aroused.

I found myself washing his abdomen with an even gentler touch. I guess you could have called it a caress if you wanted to be super weird about it. But I was still careful not to linger too long on any given region.

When I moved down to his feet, I noticed with a thrill that he was semi-erect. It was as thick as my forearm already, but pointing to the east. It was so long that it almost reached the glass wall of the shower. And although I began to sense his familiar embarrassment from the night before, I felt nothing but excitement that Godzilla was waking up.

Once I was done washing his feet, I put a dollop of shower gel in my palm. And linking my fingers together around his ankles, I soaped my way up each of his legs. This time I did not stop midway up his thighs but kept going all the way to the top. At the summit, I allowed my soapy fingers to dip between the boulders of his ass cheeks and soap his perineum.

"OK, done," I said formally, stepping back to admire my work.

His cock was at full mast again, pointing to the rooftops. It was even bigger and harder than last time. And he was even more embarrassed.

"Thanks," he said in a small voice.

He was too ashamed to turn around and rinse off, and asked me to grab the towel again like the night before.

"You still have soap on the front of your legs," I lied.

"It's just, I..."

"It's OK," I said. "I'm not looking. I've turned my eyes away."

Poor Jacob was shamefaced.

"Listen bro, it's fine. I'm your sister. I've seen it all before!"

"It just appears out of nowhere sometimes," he explained.

"Like a mushroom!" I said, laughing.

He smiled but it was not a joking matter for him.

"Listen buddy," I said firmly, "this is a rotten situation for you and nothing about it is your fault. Your body is healthy and probably just responding to the sensation of being touched. But it's not like you can't trust me. I'm your sister. So turn around and rinse off and then we'll get you dressed."

I couldn't have given a more convincing speech if I'd been defending myself in court.

"OK," he said, "and you are looking away?"

"Yes," I said, not looking away in the slightest.

He turned around to rinse his front side.

For the first time it was facing me, in all it's magnificent glory. Like a stone monument. So thick that I doubted I could get my thumb and fingers to meet around it. So long that I imagined it would bump into my heart if I had it inside me. Jesus Christ, it was a sublime cock.

I thought back to the girlfriends whose hearts he'd broken in the last couple of years. I could understand why they'd taken it so badly. Imagine being gifted something like that between your legs and then having to give it up. I could feel myself getting wet inside my shorts, and not from all the shower spray.

Sadly he broke the spell (that he had no idea he'd created) by turning back to the wall. "I think I got it all," he said. "Can you grab the towel now?"

I wrapped him in the safety of its fabric, and dried his legs and torso with a fresh one. But this time I couldn't resist unhooking the towel from his waist and using it to dry his ass, even giving a good few rubs in the crack. The only things I didn't dry were his enormous cock and balls. I re-hooked the towel around his waist.

"What do you want tonight?" I asked. "Pajamas or straight to bed?"

"Straight to bed," he said.

The shame in his tone made me feel sad, and a little bit guilty.

I led him to the bedroom. He almost couldn't walk properly because of the leviathan between his thighs. He was sort of wading through the air, the bulge in his towel leading the way like a beacon.

I let him swing his legs beneath the bedclothes, and then much like the night before, removed the towel while he wriggled free. His cock created a prominent tent under the sheets and I marveled once again at its resilience.

"Please don't feel bad," I urged him. I had to say something because it was apparent how out of sorts he was.

"Thank you," he said sweetly. "I'll see you in the morning."

"No you won't!" I said, laughing - not being mean, just making a joke he ordinarily would have loved.

He managed a light smile, but didn't laugh.

Poor Jacob, I thought. I couldn't remember feeling so much compassion for him.

Is that what it was? Compassion? It must be, I told myself. What else could it be? He's my flesh and blood. Anything else would be creepy and weird, and we didn't have that sort of relationship.

And yet as I got into bed that night I realized my pussy was dripping wet again. It felt so good beneath my fingertips that I had to grab my dildo and slip it inside. The pleasure of filling up my tight hole was exquisite and almost immediately I began having delicious orgasmic contractions.

I imagined it was his thick cock filling me up. Not my brother's cock exactly, but an appendage that looked just like his. Hell, this was a fantasy. It didn't say anywhere you can't get off on the idea of a disembodied dick.

As I fucked myself with the dildo, my mind fell to wondering how often Jacob played with that oversized fuck toy of his. Surely he did it all the time. He clearly had more testosterone than a men's football team.

For all I knew, he was doing it right now. Might he even be thinking of me?

If I were him, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off it.

And then it hit me.

I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it sooner.

He couldn't touch himself! His hands were out of action.

I felt like an idiot. The simple, inexpensive pleasure of playing with himself was as impossible for Jacob as all the other things that required his hands.

My poor brother, I thought again. It suddenly seemed like the worst agony of all.

No wonder he was getting great boners in the shower. He was probably about ready to burst.

Had Mom taken care of that too? Ew, I thought, that's gross ... But then if it was gross, why was the idea so appealing to me?

I wondered if perhaps, as the days marched on and my brother had no outlet to relieve himself, he might just spunk everywhere one night in the shower; or all over me, while I was dressing him ... Why did I love this idea too?

At that moment my own body erupted in another glorious orgasm, my sodden pussy spasming at the thought of him blowing a pent-up load all over me.

Never mind washing his junk, I thought. I have a far more important duty:

I need to make my brother cum.

Monday

As it approached shower time the next night, I started looking at the clock, willing the moment to arrive. It was becoming increasingly difficult to sound casual and uninterested in the event of his bathing. I had to give Dame Judi Dench-worthy performances just to seem neutral about it:

"Oh no ... Well, I guess it's that time again ..." I said, yawning weirdly.

I could barely contain my wild grin when it came time to take off his joggers. And I figured it didn't matter anyway because he couldn't see me.

This time I pulled them down from the front. He was already half-erect and his cock sprang out like a Jack in the Box. It had the girth of a can of hairspray. Every new angle at which I had seen it seemed to provide a more beautiful vista than the last; it was like the Taj Mahal.

While I was soaping his back and torso, I kept a quiet eye on it at all times. I felt disappointed it wasn't rising to its full glory tonight. I let my fingertip flutter in his ass crack, but even this did not add any further stories to the tower.

So I decided to try and resurrect it myself:

"Jacob," I said. "It's awkward to say this. But I'm your sister, so we don't have to worry that it's weird. But I'm aware of the fact we have never washed your ... you-know-what."

"Oh," he said, quite horrified.

To my delight his you-know-what was already beginning to stiffen.

"Well... er, it's getting rinsed with water," he said.

"Yes, but is that really enough?" I asked. "I mean, be honest. I need to wash myself down there with soap, not just rinse off, in this sticky weather."

"I ... think it will be okay," he said through clenched teeth. "Thank you though."

I felt annoyed. I was holding a door open for him and he simply would not walk through.

"Look," I said, "this is all purely clinical. I could wash it now real quick with a bit of soap. Tell me honestly, wouldn't you rather it was clean?"

By now he had a full blown, mouthwatering hard on with an angry purple head. I could feel my cunt dampen at the delectable vision.

"It's not really the best moment," he said, utterly mortified.

"Nonsense," I said.

I was not taking no for an answer. I wanted an excuse to touch it more than I had once wanted a pony for Christmas.

I tried to put him at ease again: "Don't let the fact it is in that state make you say no. I can wash it in a few seconds. Come on. Let's not be weird about it. Think of me as a nurse. It's for your comfort. It will all be forgotten about straight after."

This lie was even bigger than his gigantic cock. I was pretty sure I would never forget anything about it for as long as I lived.

Very quickly, before he could object or raise any more tedious reservations, I squirted a glob of shower gel into my palm, worked it into a lather and simply grabbed his cock and soaped its length a few times.

He let out a gasp that could have been mistaken for surprise, but sounded suspiciously like pleasure. And quickly - if not as quickly as I'd promised, or as slowly as I'd liked - it was over.

"Okay, done!" I said. "See? That wasn't weird. Like ripping a Band-Aid off. Sometimes you just gotta act and not get too in your head about shit."

But I was the one full of shit. I was babbling incoherently. It was like I'd lost my senses from the thrill of touching it. My pulse was racing; my little cunt saturated.

And Jacob himself was completely out of sorts; his cock bigger and stiffer than ever. I could see it throbbing, like it was breathing.

My annihilation was complete. I had become my brother's cock-worshipper, and I was making fewer and fewer excuses to myself about it.

I noticed that he had no qualms about turning to face me to rinse off, with the giant thing on full display. I figured this was progress. But I longed for him to ask me to finish him off. Surely he wanted it as much as I did? It was a miracle he didn't erupt on the spot.

When it came time to dry his lower body, and his cock was more engorged than ever, I wondered if I could get away with rubbing it through the towel - seeing as I'd just washed it, wouldn't it be as natural to dry it for him too? On balance, I decided to err on the side of restraint.

I led him back to his bedroom and released the towel from beneath the sheets as usual. It felt a little silly we were bothering with such vanity measures anymore, but I went along.

After we'd said goodnight, I retired to my room and began playing with my wet pussy. The whole time I was unable to forget he was lying there in bed with that monstrously large cock begging for attention, while paralyzed to attend to it. My heart broke for him.

I longed to race to his room and provide him with the relief that I now decided was the most important care he wasn't receiving. Why hadn't Mom included this task in the dossier? I felt irrationally angry with her too. I was quite losing my mind.

But now that I had experienced holding it in my hand, there could be no turning back. I simply had to get him off.

There is nothing weird about any of this, I told myself, as I enjoyed a shattering full-body orgasm.

It's regular family stuff.

Tuesday

The next night he was fully hard before I even took his pants down. He was reluctant to let me undress him, but I assured him once again it was normal and okay, and that we were family blah blah ... The speech was honestly getting boring by now.

I crouched down to remove his pants so that I could get closer to it than ever. I had to lift the waistband up over his engorged shaft, and the magnificent thing sprang out. It could have slapped me in the face. I wanted it to.

"Alice, I'm so sorry ..." Jacob began.

"Dude, we've talked about this," I said. "I don't want you to feel weird or sorry."

"I know," he said, dejected. "But it's humiliating, you know. That it keeps happening."

"It's human biology," I said, "I ignore it and so should you." The lies kept coming tonight. "Mom had to clean up after Grandma's incontinence. Imagine how much worse that must be. This is innocent, family stuff and we can handle it, okay?"

"I appreciate you being so grown-up," Jacob said. "It would be so much worse if you weren't so cool."

"I got you," I said sweetly, my eyes feasting so greedily on his cock that I almost let him walk into the wall.

"This way," I said, steering him to the true entrance to the cubicle.

I waited until he had his elbows up on the rack before my next question:

"Why does it keep going like that?" I asked.

"It's not about you, I promise," he said, "that would be weird ..."

Why did I feel so stung with disappointment at this? It was precisely what I should have wanted him to say.

"Are you frustrated?" I asked.

"I think it's being touched that does it," he said. "With my hands out of action I haven't been able to, you know ... keep things in check myself."

"That must really suck," I said, and I tried to emphasize the word 'suck', but not too obviously.

"It is pretty weird," he said. "But hardly the most important thing I've had to get used to."

His large, purple-faced cock at that moment begged to differ.

I washed his body parts in the usual rotation, and mulled over whether I was going to suggest washing his cock again. I was tingling with desire to do so, but in the light of the conversation we'd just had, it might have seemed a bit keen on my part.

Dammit, I thought, why does this have to be such a minefield? If we weren't related, I would have dropped to my knees by now and be sucking the cum out of his balls.

I resigned myself just to staring at it. But when he turned around to face me - to rinse off the imaginary soap I'd convinced him he needed to reach - I sneaked my hand into my shorts and rubbed my pussy.

It felt electrifying to be able to touch myself while witnessing his beautiful cock.

I sensed I was about to have an orgasm, and not a minor one; so I stopped. I knew he couldn't see me, but I wasn't convinced I could keep it silent.