Sister Mindfucker

I wasn't sure what the heart had to do with why my brother couldn't get laid. But maybe Grandpa meant heart euphemistically.

Why was everyone so enamored with this bullshit?

Was there a vow of chastity taken by legal trainees that I had forgotten about?

I couldn't wait to rip my brother about it later.

Ten

When we were alone in his room that night, I brought it up:

"Sorry if I spoke out of turn when Grammy asked why you don't have a girlfriend."

He pushed the bathroom door open. He was in a pair of shorts and brushing his teeth.

"You didn't have to say anything!" he said angrily, toothpaste frothing at the corners of his lips. "Why can't you keep your mouth shut?"

It came out like he had a speech impediment.

"Wow. I was looking out for you," I said. "No need to thank me!"

"You're so shady," he said, after spitting in the basin. "You gaslight about everything so it seems like everyone else is crazy and you are all innocent, but the reality is..."

"Reality? What the fuck do you know about reality? Seriously bro, why are you still a virgin at 20? And don't give me that, 'I'm saving myself for a law degree,' crap. Remember when you tried to claim you defeated the Level 5 boss in Legend of Zelda? I was the one who knew you didn't have it in you. So tell me. Why can't you get laid?"

"I'm not trying to," he said. "I don't want a relationship!"

"Who's talking about a relationship? I'm asking why you don't get your dick sucked, or eat some pussy?"

He had nothing.

"Let's say Leanna from your law class - the one you claim is just a friend - comes over one day to work on some legal theory crap that you two nerds give a fuck about, and she peels off her legal uniform, removes her panties, spreads her little pink pussy and begs you to stick your cock inside her. What do you do?"

"I'm not playing along with this thought experiment.," he said.

"It's Christmas. Humor me. What would you do if that actually happened? Would you be like, 'oh no Leanna, stop, we need to get back to the legal ramifications of blah blah vs who cares.' Or would you pull your cock out - like you don't seem to be able to stop doing around me - and stick it in her wet little hole?"

My brother's face was pinker than I'd painted Leanna's imaginary pussy.

"I would probably say I don't want to spoil our working relationship," he said.

"Answer me straight. Are you afraid of girls?"

"No!"

"Are you attracted to girls?"

"Yes!"

"Would you let your friend Leanna drop to her knees and suck your cock if she begged to?"

"Probably, yes!"

" Finally! I don't know why you couldn't just admit that 10 minutes ago, like any other man on the planet. So, the reason you are still a virgin is because you've never had an opportunity to not be one. Correct?"

He didn't disagree.

"There's nothing wrong with having no game, or feeling shy," I said. "It's more honest than that crap about waiting until you're the Lincoln Lawyer. I'm just encouraging you to be honest with yourself."

"You have nothing but my best interests in mind," he said, unconvinced.

"Have you ever touched a girl?"

"Of course!"

"I don't mean her arm in a cardigan. Have you ever touched her flesh?"

"Sure."

"When?"

"I can't remember."

"Seems like you'd remember."

"I can't remember a particular example."

"Because there are so many?"

"No."

"Have you touched a girl's tits?"

"Um... "

"Have you fingered a girl?"

"I've made out with three girls."

"I believe you. I'm asking if you've touched their private parts? Yes or no?"

"Perhaps through fabric, one of those times."

"You can't say it, can you? I told you it's better to be honest than make things up."

"OK," he said, "I've never touched a woman's private parts. Are you happy?"

"No. I'm devastated for you. It's like you've only bought candy from the bottom shelf. Sadly I will have to tell everyone that you've never touched a girl."

"You bitch!" he said. "You forced me to admit it! You said you'd respect my honesty. Now you threaten to tell everyone?"

"Everyone already knows. I'm threatening to corroborate."

He made a noise that could only be described as an ejaculation of frustration. It had no words and was directed everywhere.

"How are you so annoying?" he said, when it was done. "It's like you've elevated it to an art form."

"Well, when you get that law degree - the one that's apparently why you're afraid of pussy - you can sue me!

I paused for dramatic effect...

"Or we could just settle this here."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you have a girl in your bed right now. And I don't want to sound too full of myself, but she's not un-hot."

"We're related," he said, pretending to find the notion distasteful.

"But if somebody asks if you've touched a girl, it would still be true. You could just omit the part about which girl."

"I shouldn't be touching my sister in private places. And you shouldn't want me to."

"Want you to? Ew! I'm trying to help you... Look, we don't even need to be talking about this, give me your hand..."

He wouldn't hand it to me.

I took it from above the covers and moved the two of our arms underneath.

He didn't resist.

I slid his fingers under the waistband of my pajamas and guided them onto my pussy, which had been drenched for at least the last 10 minutes.

I can't lie; it felt delicious.

"Now you've touched one. Problem solved! Wait, what are you doing?"

He was pulling his fingers away.

"You can't touch it once and be done. Play with it some more!"

"No, this is wrong," he said.

I seized his hand and returned it between my legs.

This time I helped him insert two of his fingers into my crack, until they'd reached the knuckle.

Finally he seemed to get it, and his eyes lit up in a way I'd never seen before.

"Holy shit," he said.

"Right? Imagine what your dick feels like in one of these."

"It's like the inside of a mouth. Only more..."

I taught his hand how to masturbate me, and then I let him do it all by himself.

I felt it appropriate to make encouraging sounds of pleasure here and there, just to assist with his education.

And sooner or later - I know it sounds unlikely, but my brother was making me cum.

It wasn't a half-bad orgasm either.

He had this unexpected ability to get the pressure right, so that his hand wasn't limp as my pussy was convulsing.

I began to see stars, and clamped his fingers between my legs as the waves crashed through me.

When we were done, I almost didn't hate him for a moment.

Eleven

"Well, there you go," I said, removing my his sticky fingers from my pajamas. "Nobody can ever say you haven't touched a girl."

He seemed less interested in that now.

"Did I do it good?" he asked.

He couldn't stop grinning goofily.

"You were alright," I said. "Don't get carried away. You're not getting five stars on Yelp. You're still a useless virgin."

He seemed tipsy from the drug of getting me off.

"Did it make you hard?" I asked, reaching down to touch his shorts.

It did.

"And now you want the favor returned? Is that it? I'm not jerking you off, Christian."

"I didn't ask."

"You don't have to," I said, grabbing the bulge in his shorts again and waggling it. "This here is like Pinocchio's nose. It tells the truth when you are lying."

Right on cue, it started to grow bigger in my palm.

I slid my hand into his shorts and started to tug at the warm flesh.

"This is not a good idea!" he protested, while happily beginning to fuck the O of my fist.

Soon his concerns about how we shouldn't be doing this melted away.

He stopped speaking and made elongated vowel sounds instead.

I used my free hand to play with his balls - not because I cared about his pleasure, of course, but because it was part of the Kool-Aid I needed him to drink.

I was surprised by how much he let himself get into it.

He seemed to forget where he was, or who I was; or what any of his previous complaints had been.

Law degree-abstinence, my ass, I thought.

He started to buck his hips and pump my fist more vigorously.

A pearl of nectar emerged from the mouth of his cock.

Before long it wasn't just one bubble, but a slime-trail of pre-cum, creating a stream down the side of his shaft, and gathering in the nook of my fist.

"You're about to blow," I told him.

He couldn't speak. His face was a mask of stress and bliss.

But he didn't disagree.

His testicles were getting tighter and smaller, until they all but disappeared inside his body.

And his cock - well, it may have broken the seven inch barrier. Although I wasn't about to tell him that.

I wasn't invested in any of this emotionally, I don't do emotions.

But anatomically, it was quite interesting - the way his genitals continued to grow and transform, the closer he got to expunging the contents of his balls.

I could tell his splooge was about to catapult out of him.

His hair was matted in sweat, despite the cool temperature of the room; his cock was almost as purple as his face; and so, at this critical juncture...

I stopped.

He opened his eyes and looked at me.

I rolled over to my side of the bed, nestled my head comfortably into the pillow, and turned out the light.

"Good night," I said. "Merry Christmas!"

I could hear him breathing in the darkness.

It sounded like the aftermath of an asthma attack.

I knew he was dying to say something but it took forever.

"Sara?" he said eventually.

"What is it?" I asked, irritated; as if I'd been drifting off.

"I guess, I wondered why..."

"You're such a big dork?"

"Why you stopped?"

"Was I supposed to keep doing it forever? Shall I not sleep any more and devote myself to the needs of your balls?"

" It's just that it was about to feel really good"

"Oh wow, it didn't feel good yet?"

"No, it felt amazing - I mean, it was wrong of us... but I was just about to... "

He was blabbering at this point.

"It's going to be hard to get to sleep... " he said.

"Christian," I said, getting serious for a moment. I may have even sat up in bed. "Can you hear yourself? You're trying to persuade your sister to give you an orgasm, and you can't even say the word. You spent most of the night saying it's weird for us to touch each other, and now you are pressurizing me to get you off. Does that sound healthy?"

"It doesn't," he said, remorsefully. "And everything you say is true. We shouldn't be doing this. I didn't start it, and I didn't want it. But now..."

"You've changed your mind?"

"I don't know," he said, "it's just that we were in the middle of something that seemed to be leading somewhere, and then you stopped."

"Maybe your arguments sank in," I said, "and I saw the light."

"Go to sleep," he said, sadly.

I might have felt bad for him, if I felt anything at all.

But he was rapidly becoming a shadow of his former, buttoned-up self.

So everything was going according to plan.

Twelve

Christian awoke before me the next morning.

I pretended to still be asleep and surveyed him through a crack in my eyelid.

His cock was hard when he stepped out of bed, and although he did first check that I was still asleep - which I wasn't, but pretended to be - he seemed less bothered about hiding his nudity.

In fact, it looked like he was parading in front of me on purpose.

He pulled his t-shirt off, as well as his boxers, and stood there naked - barely three feet from the bed - with his big hard-on sticking up like a periscope.

It seemed to be getting more impressive on a daily basis. Frustration was a good look on him.

I could feel my pussy getting damp at the sight, and I was only half squinting at it from one closed eye.

He was ostensibly selecting underwear and a shirt, but he took a suspiciously long time to choose either garment, and his stiff cock was going nowhere in the meantime.

I know what this is, I thought. I was the one who invented it.

He was pulling a me; hoping that I might wake up to accidentally, witness, and be aroused by, his naked body.

This was starting to get dangerous.

I couldn't have my brother thinking he held any allure for me.

It would counterbalance the power I had over him.

Eventually, I 'woke up' naturally - my eyes flickering open to adjust to daylight, and my arms stretching out in an attempted demonstration of convincing human behavior.

"What are you doing?" I asked, pretending to notice his sad face watching me.

"Nothing," he said. "I didn't sleep very well."

"I slept like a princess," I said, and it was true.

I climbed out of bed and walked over to my stack of clothes.

I removed my pajamas, and walked around naked for a while, just like he had; pretending to select my outfit for the day.

I kept thinking I might want to wear one of the shirts at the bottom of the pile, which meant having to bend over, so that I was virtually folded in two.

I made sure that my bare ass was presented to him each time.

As I leaned down to fetch the last shirt, I could see through the gap in my legs that he was staring at my pussy.

He was getting more brazen.

I covered up my body, seeing as it had delivered the desired effect.

I couldn't help but notice his cock was still hard in his shorts.

I went into the bathroom, but didn't spend too long in there. I didn't want to give him time to take care of his erection.

When I emerged, he was standing at the bathroom door.

I thought he was waiting to go in.

But he was waiting for me.

He pushed me up against the wall; brought his face in close, and looked down at my little body.

I thought he was going to grab my tits or put his hand between my legs... something. But he chickened out at the last minute, and let me go.

"Pathetic," I said.

I put on jeans and a tank top.

He stood there with a great boner, looking at me furiously, but unable to say anything.

I had broken him.

"Are you just going to stand there like a scarecrow with a hard-on?" I asked. "Or are you going to come and have breakfast?"

He didn't move; just looked at me with Basset Hound eyes.

"See you up there," I said.

***

He was in a weird mood for the rest of the day.

He wouldn't stop staring at me.

At one point my nipples got hard because I had to take the trash out, and he couldn't take his eyes off them.

He'd gone from being a hapless virgin to a sister-thirsty zombie in less than 72 hours. It would have been impressive if he'd managed to have any game.

But he was pathetic in both guises - virgin and seducer.

And this new guise - the horny teenager who couldn't stop lusting after his sister's body, was the creepiest yet.

I know it was my desire to bring about such an effect, but I'd spawned Frankenstein's monster.

Thirteen

Lunch was a banquet of leftovers.

The family had been together for so many days that even the conversation felt like something we'd half-eaten several times already.

My brother and I were sat next to each other on two small chairs that didn't belong to the dining table set, so we were forced to be several inches lower than everyone else at the table.

I'm already quite short, so it was pretty much only my head peeking out over a bowl of cold Brussel sprouts.

Christian was quieter than usual, even with our tedious family members asking him questions.

He was oddly monosyllabic and unenthused - perhaps from a lack of sleep; although he seemed acutely aware of my presence, because rather than ignore me as usual, he kept whispering things under his breath.

I can't remember what any of them were.

Just dumb jokes and stuff, but it was as though he felt he and I were in some sort of secret cult.

In truth, of course, I would never join any cult that permitted my brother as a member.

I grew super-bored during dessert, when my relatives began arguing about politics.

Between them, they were either too stupid, too prejudiced - or in the case of my grandparents, too demented - to have anything interesting to say, let alone an original opinion.

I wanted to leave the table, but I knew Dad would not permit it while someone was still eating - even when that someone was Grandma, taking seven hours to finish a sliver of lemon meringue pie.

So I sat there, twiddling my thumbs in boredom, until I noticed the crotch of my brothers cargo pants beneath the tablecloth, and got the naughty idea to twiddle something else.

I reached over and unzipped his fly.

He looked at me, completely astounded.

He zipped himself back up, and said something under his breath that was so dull I can't remember it.

I unzipped his fly again. Less than 30 seconds later.

"Stop it," he said, practically spitting the words at me; still under his breath.

He zipped himself back up.

"Christian, what do you think of the new Attorney General?" one of our Grandmas suddenly asked.

This was perfect, because it stole his attention and made him unable to intervene in what I was doing beneath the table.

So I didn't just unzip his fly this time, I unbuttoned his boxers and slid my hand in the opening.

He became flustered mid sentence to Grandma: "The problem with local GOVernMENTT is that they don't know HOW TOOO..."

He had become a stammering wreck as I began to fluff his squishy little dick.

At one point he lost his train of thought completely, and my relatives might have imagined he was high on something.

But he couldn't stop me without drawing attention to the thing he most wanted to conceal; so he continued trying to make a natural conclusion to his absurd point, while everybody listened attentively.

Grandma, then Gramps, and even Dad, kept challenging his arguments, or asking for clarification, because he was making less sense than usual, which meant the spotlight remained on him for longer.

I wasn't wanking him, by the way. I was just holding his cock and rubbing at the underside of his glans with my thumb.

But he had grown quite hard, despite the palpable anxiety.

I carefully pulled his shaft out the button-hole of his boxers, so that now he was sat at the dining table with his big stiff cock out - unbeknownst to our eight relatives - while his younger sister held it in her hand.

"Tell us more about your thoughts on the Supreme Court decision," I asked - not giving a flying fuck about such a thing, of course, but wanting to prolong his trauma.

"I've spoken enough," he said, bashfully. "I don't know that much."

He was quite red faced.

"Nonsense," said Grandma, pretending to be impressed. "You have sensible views in that head of yours."

She might have meant one sensible view. And she was, of course, mistaken.

"Thank you," said Christian. His voice cracking into a high register.

"Do you need some water?" I asked.

"No!" he said. It came out wobbly.

Finally, Grandma had consumed as much of the pie-slice as her minuscule stomach could accommodate.

Mom got up to remove the dishes from the table.

"Could you help me, Sara?" she asked.

"Of course, Mama," I said, getting up immediately, and releasing my grip on my brother's cock.

"Are you alright?" I asked him with concern. "Seems like you might be having a hot flash."

"I'm fine," he said, fumbling with his pants beneath the table.

"You seem very pink," I said. "Perhaps you should lie down."

It's possible he hated me more in that moment than ever before.

But I knew he'd be desperate for me to play with him again later.

And I had a treat planned.

Fourteen

Later that afternoon we were playing video games with our cousins in the basement.