Sleeping Beauty's Brother

Kennedy finished editing her advice video. This week's topic had been chivalry. How should a modern, independent woman react when a man opens a door for her? Should he always lead when dancing? Should the man ask for the date and pay for it? It had been a good video. Her followers were going to appreciate it.

One problem. She couldn't upload it. The wi-fi wasn't working. Damn it! Roosevelt must have changed the password. The neighbor had been logging in and her brother had gotten tired of it. Kennedy had known he was going to do it. She just hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Her brother was not very good at procrastination.

Roosevelt would be at work for another six hours. But Kennedy had waited long enough to upload. Unlike her brother, she was an expert at procrastinating. But this video had to be posted today. She'd promised her followers.

There was another option. Roosevelt had his laptop with him. But he had his desktop computer set up in his bedroom. She didn't feel comfortable going in there. The habits of childhood are hard to get past. She and her brother were both adults, both successful in their careers. They'd been roommates for the past year to save a little money. Yet she still felt like Roosevelt's little sister, who was going to get her ass whipped for going in his room. But she had no choice.

She gingerly opened his door and went inside. Her trepidation quickly turned to amusement. Her brother decorated like a teenage boy. Posters of nearly-naked women. A full shelf of pornographic DVDs. A stack of Mad Magazines. And some Dungeons and Dragons figurines on top of the bookcase.

Kennedy sat down at the computer. It was also password-protected, but she knew the solution to that. Her brother was immature, maybe, but he was well-organized and predictable. His passwords were all generated by using D & D dice. But she knew where he kept them. His wi-fi password he kept in his wallet, unfortunately. His e-mail passwords were on a card in the freezer. But the computer password...

"Garfield!" she called. A minute or two later, Roosevelt's cat came in curiously. She was one of the few cats Kennedy had ever known that actually came when called. As a matter of tradition, Roosevelt and Kennedy had carried on their parents' tradition of naming their children after former presidents by doing the same with their pets. And when Roosevelt had found this orange tabby kitten lapping at a puddle of rainwater in the backyard, looking just like the cartoon feline, both he and Kennedy knew that James Garfield was about to get a namesake.

And Roosevelt's computer password was on Garfield's collar.

She logged on, moved her video from her laptop to his desktop, and uploaded it. And then, sighing with relief and satisfaction, she began to snoop.

As expected, there was a lot of porn. Videos, images, stories, and X-rated games. It didn't bother her. Kennedy thought that guys probably benefited from watching porn. It kept their tempers from getting the better of them. But her brother's collection was excessive.

She looked through his files, found a few videos she liked, copied them to her laptop. Kennedy liked porn featuring rough sex, simulated rape, and bondage. Roosevelt's collection was a little light on those subjects, but bulging with creampie porn, where the guy came right inside the girl.

The one area where their interests really seemed to converge was in the unwanted creampies. Roosevelt had a folder full of videos where the girls begged the guy not to come inside them, only to be ignored. Some were clearly fake, just performances by professionals. But a few seemed genuine. Amateurs agreeing to get fucked, but not prepared for the ending.

After copying the ones she liked, Kennedy perused the still images. She scrolled down to the Kink folder, but her eyes were immediately drawn to her own name, alphabetically placed just in front. Why would her brother have a Kennedy folder in his collection of porn? Was there perhaps a porn star named Kennedy?

Whether there was or wasn't, that's not who Roosevelt was ogling. When she opened the folder, she found scores of pictures of herself sleeping. Her brother was obviously in the habit of taking photos of her as she slept. And this wasn't a one-time thing. Different nights, different nightwear. T-shirts, half-shirts, occasionally with no top at all. Her legs were always covered with blankets, so he had been denied any pussy or panty shots, but he'd seen plenty.

Kennedy's thoughts ranged from anger and betrayal to curiosity. Was her brother turned on by his little sister? Did he masturbate to these images of her? And how did he know she wouldn't wake up and catch him.

Actually, the answer to that was fairly obvious. Kennedy liked her brandy. A couple of glasses made her pleasantly buzzed, and then it took a great effort to wake her once she drifted off.

It gave her an idea. There was an experiment she decided to try. It wasn't even an experiment really. There was nothing she expected to learn from this. But calling it an experiment made her feel less creepy and perverted than her brother.

She decided to give him a treat, then monitor what he did with it. Kennedy logged into her cloud storage account, and gave permissions to access Roosevelt's porn collection. And the Kennedy folder, she set to backup automatically. Her brother would never know it, but she could now view his porn from her own devices, and any pictures he took of her would be copied. Then she went to the liquor store.

That night, after she and Roosevelt shared some Chinese food, Kennedy got herself wonderfully tipsy, indulging in three glasses of brandy mixed with peppermint Schnapps. She made certain Roosevelt knew how inebriated she was, then she went to bed.

Even with all the alcohol, it was difficult to get to sleep. She was too excited. Kennedy tried to convince herself it was just the curiosity, but it was more than that. She loved erotic violations. Rape and bondage fantasies were incredibly arousing. To actually set up her own violation was thrilling.

And in a weird way, she and her brother were violating each other. She was secretly inviting him to come spy on her. And he didn't know that she was manipulating him for her own pleasure. It was both fair and perverse. With that thought, she started rubbing her clit until the third orgasm finally knocked her out.

Kennedy seldom dreamt when she'd been drinking. This was no exception. And she woke with a slight hangover, the headache and nausea annoying but manageable. She heard Roosevelt moving around in the kitchen and picked up her phone from the night table to have him bring her some broth.

She lounged in bed, nursing her faint ailments, until Roosevelt left for work. Then she jumped out of bed and went to her laptop. She opened Roosevelt's Kennedy folder, and there she was. Several new photos had been posted in the last ten hours.

Kennedy had deliberately gone to bed naked and had slept on top of the blankets instead of under them. She'd taken some time to groom herself for this photoshoot, shaping her pubic hair into a tiny little thatch just above her clit but leaving the lips of her sex bare.

She assumed Roosevelt had gotten hard looking at her pussy. Men stiffened up at that sight instinctively. He couldn't have helped it if he tried. It was always arousing to Kennedy to know that she caused such reactions.

Until yesterday, she'd never imagined that her own brother was reacting to her. On the one hand, she was furious with him. But mixed with the fury was the erotic sense of helplessness she'd been craving for years. She was not going to confront him over these photos. Not yet. She wanted to get her own pleasures out of this perverse, incestuous voyeurism.

It was both creepy and exciting to imagine any man standing over while she was helpless and exposed. The taboo of it being her own brother added a hell of a lot of spice.

His behavior was absolutely inappropriate. It was sick and disturbing. But worst of all, for a pervert, Roosevelt had been far too respectful. Kennedy decided she needed to do more on her part. She wasn't sure exactly what she wanted her brother to do, but that was part of the point. Not knowing increased the sense of helplessness she found so erotic.

It took her some time. Several days of research and setup. But a week later, she was ready. When Roosevelt returned home from work, she set to work.

"Hey, brother. I made us some lasagna. But then I'm going to bed. I've been having trouble sleeping so I bought these powerful sleeping pills. One knocks you out for ten hours. Five will kill you. I'm taking two. There could be a hurricane, an earthquake, and a war going on and it wouldn't wake me up."

"Wow. Are you sure it's safe?"

"I'm sure. I checked with a doctor. I'll be out maybe twelve--fourteen hours, but it will be a very, very deep sleep. Absolutely nothing's gonna wake me up."

Roosevelt nodded grimly, but Kennedy saw a spark of excitement in his eyes. What would he do? Would he touch her? Would he jerk off on her face, maybe? "All right. If that will help."

"You're not even gonna ask why I've been sleeping badly? What kind of brother are you?"

"I didn't want to pry. But since you brought it up, I am concerned."

"I don't have a boyfriend," Kennedy said, pleased to lay the bait a little thicker. "I haven't been laid in a year. I'm horny enough to fuck the first guy I see. I don't even have to know his name."

"Oh, God. I don't need to know that."

"Well, you did ask," she teased.

Two hours later, Kennedy drank two big glasses of water to stave off dehydration as she slept. And with the last few swallows, she took the sleeping pills. She took off her clothes. She peed. She checked all her equipment. And when the drowsiness started to overwhelm her, she lay down on the bed.

When she woke, it was late morning or early afternoon. She was still groggy, a little stiff, and there was a terrible taste in her mouth. but excitement and anticipation chased the fog away.

Kennedy got out of bed, drank some water, and went to her laptop. But this time, she didn't check Roosevelt's files.

To prep for last night, Kennedy had set up several cameras of her own to watch the room and the bed. She pulled up all three video feeds, then set them to play in small windows on her screen so she could watch last night's activity from three angles.

Staring intently at the three images, Kennedy watched herself pass out. She looked good, even if she did say so herself. The naked girl sleeping peacefully on her screen looked damn good. And she was posed so invitingly, on her back with her arms spread, as if to say, "Take me." Her knees were slightly bent and slightly apart, and tilted to her side, shyly hiding her sex from view, but teasingly, almost revealing but not quite.

She fast-forwarded through the first couple of hours, in which nothing happened but drug-induced slumber. But just as hour three began, Roosevelt entered the room. He must have been timing it, checking his watch, waiting exactly two hours before giving in to his perversions.

Kennedy watched as her brother took pictures of her sleeping self. He was pretty confident about it. He had a lot of experience at this, and had no reason to expect her to wake up. And Kennedy's own prep work, emphasizing how very knocked out she'd be by the pills, had maybe also had an effect.

Roosevelt touched her knee, waiting to see if she reacted, then opened Kennedy's legs to expose her pussy. She was pretty sure he'd never been quite this bold before. He took several close-up shots of her sex, then he set the camera aside and just stared.

Kennedy gasped as she saw her brother lean in, carefully watching her face to see that she stayed asleep, and gave her pussy a quick kiss. That crossed a line she was sure he'd never even thought about before now.

But once crossed, Roosevelt gave in to some desires. He was soon licking her up and down. It was a shame she hadn't been awake for that. Kennedy loved a tongue on and in her pussy. But there was a major erotic thrill in watching this porn video she'd unknowingly starred in.

Kennedy had been so eager to watch these videos, she hadn't bothered to even dress after getting out of bed. She was still as naked as she'd been for her brother. As she watched his lips and tongue moving between her legs, her hand crept down to her pussy and started retracing Roosevelt's oral journey with her own fingers.

But now Roosevelt was removing his own clothes. Well, not removing, Kennedy saw. Just loosening his belt so he could pull out his dick. It was a sight Kennedy would never have imagined seeing just a week ago. Her own brother's stiffened penis. She was surprisingly aroused by the sight of it. It was somehow exciting to think that she was so enticing that her own brother got hard looking at her.

Roosevelt climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside her head. He tapped her sleeping face with his dick. Lightly at first, but then more aggressively, until he was rubbing his cock and balls all over her cheeks and lips and forehead.

Kennedy rubbed her face and licked her lips, searching for the salty residue of her brother's ball sweat. She thought she could maybe taste something, but it could have been her imagination. She wanted that taste.

One of her cameras was blocked when her brother propped her head up on pillows and straddled her chest. But one of the inevitable results of being a YouTuber was the accumulation of video and audio equipment. Kennedy had three cameras set up around her bed, and while the wide shot from the foot of the bed was now obstructed by her brother's back, she could see a close-up view of the side of her face as her brother pushed his dick between her lips.

Kennedy gasped at the sight of it, feeling betrayed, violated, and extremely aroused. She licked her lips, reveling in the thought of her brother fucking her mouth just hours ago. How far did he take it, she wondered. There was an odd taste in her mouth. Was it just the taste of Roosevelt's penis or was that the flavor of cum? She had never actually tasted the stuff. Perhaps this was the perfect introduction.

He raped her sleeping mouth as she eagerly watched. Her fingers were rubbing her pussy as she witnessed the assault. He pushed himself deep in her mouth, deeper than she would have thought possible. The pills apparently depressed the gag reflex. The head of his cock had to be almost in her throat.

But he didn't stay there. He pulled out and looked at her lips, still wide open in her drug-induced trance. Roosevelt got up on his knees and dragged his balls over her lips, laying his stiff cock on her face, alongside her nose. Maybe it was her brother's ball sweat she was tasting.

Then Roosevelt solved the mystery. He got up off her face and off her bed and went to her dresser. He'd obviously done some previous snooping. He knew exactly which drawer to go to and where to look. Kennedy kept a vibrating, penis-shaped dildo in a box at the back of the bottom left drawer. And her brother went right to it.

Roosevelt pulled out the toy and sniffed at it. She always cleaned it. There shouldn't be anything there to smell. But she liked seeing him sniffing at her sex toy. He got back on the bed, between her legs, and started pushing the dildo into her pussy. He went slow, easing the toy gently inside her.

That explained part of why Kennedy was so horny this morning. Part of it was just watching her brother molest her. She was definitely turned on by that. But there was also an empty feeling in her pussy. Most of the time, she wasn't aware of any particular feelings from her sex. But after a guy had been inside her, she did acutely feel his absence once it was over. Post-orgasm, that emptiness simply felt like she'd been well-used. But without that orgasm, the emptiness begged to be filled.

Kennedy stuck her fingers inside her pussy as she watched her brother pushing the dildo in and out of her. But when he removed the dildo and reached up to slide it into her mouth, she suddenly understood what she'd been tasting. It had been the flavor of her own pussy, another delicacy she'd never sampled.

Watching her brother dildo her mouth, Kennedy slipped her fingers deep into the fresh wet of her cunt, soaking them in her feminine fluids, then brought them to her lips for an active taste rather than the residue of a past activity she hadn't even been awake for.

The taste was exciting and musky, something she'd never realized she wanted. While her brother forced her to taste her own pussy on screen, Kennedy willing sucked that flavor from her fingers and felt her pussy flowing with fresh arousal.

But her brother's courage failed after that. He wouldn't go any further, despite Kennedy's wanting him to. He pulled the dildo from her mouth, wiped it on her blankets, and put it away. Then he took some more pictures and finally left the room.

Kennedy went into Roosevelt's files and looked at the pictures he'd taken. Lots and lots of pics of her pussy. It was amazing to see herself so close-up in an area she couldn't easily see herself. She copied every pussy pic to her own computer and then rubbed her clit until she came.

For the next few days, she could barely look her brother in the eye. On the one hand, he had legally raped her, taking terrible sexual advantage of her as she slept. On the other, she had known he would do that and had deliberately made it much easier for him, which meant that he had consent even if he didn't know it. And on a third hand, she had been secretly recording his sexual activities and hacking his computer to steal his personal sexual photographs. The anger and the guilt were both overbalanced by the weight of her powerful arousal over the whole situation.

And she needed him to do it again. She craved his secret attention. She wanted to watch him as he molested her in every way possible. If she confronted him and asked for his cock, he would not respond well. He would feel accused and defensive and that would end the fun for both of them. She needed to catch him in the act, when his blood was up and his cock was stiff. A guy's judgment is not the best when his cock was hard. He'll make stupid decisions. And that's what she wanted. She needed him to make the stupid choice.

A week later, she was ready for another round. And this time, she decided to get sneaky. She told her brother that she'd gotten such a good sleep from the pills, she was going to do it again. But when it was time for bed, she only took a glass of vodka. It would make her sleepy, but not knock her out so completely as the pills. Instead of being dragged down into a dark abyss, she sank gently into erotic dreams.

She woke up very slowly, in the middle of the night. Roosevelt already had his cock between her lips. She pretended to keep sleeping as he fucked her mouth. The vodka helped her to stay passive and docile, almost dozing, yet fully aware of his thick, hard presence on her tongue. She lay there unmoving as he slowly fucked her mouth.

She felt like such a pervert! Roosevelt's actions were taboo to point of being felonies, but Kennedy was so aroused by them, she had to be almost as sick as he was. It turned her on that he thought she was sleeping. It turned her on that he was legally raping her. It turned her on big time that this was her own brother molesting her.

And he seemed to be getting bolder. Roosevelt took maybe a hundred pictures of his cock in her mouth before pulling out. Then he positioned her on the bed with her legs wide open. Was he going to do it, she wondered. Was he going to fuck her? She hoped so. She had made some purchases and now had six cameras watching the bed. Kennedy would be masturbating all day tomorrow to the video of this if he actually put it in.