The Wonderful World of Lindsay

The brief epilogue promised that they would be back for further adventures as her orgasm had rendered her somehow immune to genetic anomalies, and she could now help repopulate the earth with her brother.

As I got to the bottom, there were a few comments. Two of them were pointing out various typos and errors she had made. Both liked the story but only gave it a four because of the errors. Neither of them pointed out the name error. I went back to check it, just to make sure I hadn't hallucinated it. No, I did not. It said "Benji", sure as shit.

The other comments were generally positive, most felt the story was a bit rushed overall. I looked at the date it was first available. Yesterday. Now, in the story list, the rating was 4.65 with a few thousand views and more additional comments. I closed the browser window on my phone, I had seen and cum enough for one day.

This couldn't be Lindsay. There was absolutely no way my straight-arrow sister wrote any of this. This was beyond nasty with a capital N. Incest? I had watched my fair share of "What are you doing, Stepbro?" fake porn clips, just to see what the big deal was. Not a single one of them ever made me that hard for that long, let alone bust even one nut.

Post-nut clarity made me realize that my getting caught with my dick in Miranda's mouth had been a little over two weeks ago. Knowing Lindsay's schedule, she only had a few days to write that along with the Patreon story and the first one I read.

One thing was certain. I knew something so personal about my sister that I couldn't tell anybody. I'm sure the other four stories were pretty tame compared to this one but this one, though, was bad. It would probably make Mom and Dad have her committed to a mental institution.

I also couldn't shake the feeling that I had just royally fucked up. There was no way I could look at her the same now. She would know I had violated her privacy. I told myself it was possible she just typed that name by mistake, it was an innocent oversight and I was making a big deal out of nothing. I was deeply disturbed by the small part of me that hoped it wasn't a mistake.

I cleaned up after myself in the bathroom and took out the trash to get rid of the evidence. I managed to double-check that I had put everything back the way it was before I snooped on her computer. I was taking a nap when they came back. Lindsay went into her room, turned on the lamp, and sat down at the computer. I couldn't see but I could hear her. There were the usual typing noises for entering logins and passwords, and then she started beating the living shit out of the keyboard.

This went on for almost an hour before she slowed down. Then it would occasionally pick up and slow down until it was time for dinner. Shit. I had to face her, I suddenly wasn't hungry but I was going to have to go down there and deal with it.

It was a lot harder than I anticipated. She seemed friendlier, there were no rubber band jokes, and even Mom and Dad were in a good mood. I ate but didn't enjoy it. I finished quickly and excused myself, claiming tiredness.

I laid down on the bed but I wasn't actually tired. I was confused. I had been looking for revenge and I found my evidence but now I didn't want it. Of all the things I had done to Lindsay in our lives, that was absolutely the most fucked up. I violated her privacy. Her computer was no different than my phone. It was supposed to be sacred. I walked in and invaded it for my own benefit. What she had done was wrong, I understood why she thought it was appropriate, but it was still wrong.

What I did was evil.

I knew I would keep reading her erotica stories but I was going to stop reading her stories going on Patreon. The temptation to poke around further would be too great.

That's what I told myself. What I did was the exact opposite.

Oh, I kept following her Literotica account. I just didn't stop reading her other stories. I was hooked.

Then came the day she posted on the forum again. She was working on a story and she wasn't sure what category to put it in so she asked for advice.

It was more or less going to be an open letter that talked about being in love with them but wouldn't actually contain sexual activity. The debate went back and forth between Incest/Taboo and Letters and Transcripts. There seemed to be no clear favorite and she decided to hold off on choosing until she had finished both parts of the story.

I had to know what she had written, if only to stop thinking about it constantly. So I did the unthinkable.

It was a Saturday afternoon. I thought Lindsay had left to go to work and I made my move. I accessed her computer and started my search. It took a while before I found her erotica stories buried a couple of subdirectories deep in her personal folder. I had to do it manually in order to not leave a search history.

It was called "Confessions.draft".

I debated with myself for a few minutes about whether I really wanted to read this or not. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I should shut it down and walk away. But the part of me that needed to know won out.

I double-clicked on the file...

##########

My name is [Lindsay]. My last name isn't important. I'm just an average young woman, a college student, and a writer.

I'm also a pervert undeniably in love with her brother.

What would cause somebody like me to do that? I'm not sure I had a choice. I don't think love works that way, actually. It never felt like I really had a choice. It simply happened.

Maybe you're wondering how I knew.

I'm a "good girl". I follow the rules, do what my parents expect, and look out for my little brother, who isn't all that little these days...if you catch my drift. He's not exactly a "bad boy" but more the quiet rebel type. He does what he wants. He will follow the rules that make sense to him. If it doesn't, he does what he wants and deals with the consequences later. He doesn't worry about them.

[Benji], he hates the nickname but it's my name for him that nobody else uses, is one of those people who you can never tell what he's going to do next, it could be jumping off a 150-foot bungee tower or learning to bake a cake. He's done both. On the same day. If he decides he wants to do it, he will. That's a little bit about the "why" I fell in love with him.

The "how"? It started about four years ago, really. On his graduation trip from my parents.

Backstory: For our high school graduations, our parents let us choose where to go for our two-week vacation. I chose Hollywood for mine, I was really into the whole celebrity lifestyle scene back then. [Benji] used to make fun of me, desperate for my daily dose of Hollywood gossip from the internet and TV. I wanted to write fan fiction, crossover stories, and spinoffs. I figured it would be two weeks of nothing but constant teasing. He didn't. The only request any of my family had was my parent's request to visit Disneyland sometime before we came home. It wasn't a big ask so I agreed. He just soaked it all up. Didn't complain once and he said he had a great time.

Fast forward two years to [Benji]'s graduation trip. He wouldn't tell anybody anything about where he wanted to go until after he graduated. On the night of his graduation, before going to bed, he told us he wanted to go to Florida. Specifically, Orlando and Miami. It didn't take much to make the necessary arrangements and we went shortly thereafter.

We cruised Disney World and Universal, hit Miami Beach, South Beach, the Keys, and all the sights and sounds of South Florida. It was a dream come true for both my mother and me.

I can pinpoint the exact time and place I knew I was in love with [Benji]. We were taking the day off between Universal and Disney, Mom and Dad went to do some things and the two of us were hanging out at the hotel. All of a sudden, he tells me "I want to ride the Slingshot" and he shows me the brochure from the hotel lobby. It's basically a bucket suspended between two towers, they pull the bucket back and then fire you into the sky, attached by giant cables and springs. Just like a giant slingshot.

I told him I'd go with him but I wasn't getting on it. He said okay. We got an Uber and went. All the time we were standing in line, I was positive I wasn't getting in that thing to save my life. The screams alone were enough to put me off it. He's just as calm as a man sitting in his backyard with a beer watching the sunset. We get up there and we get to the window to buy a ticket, he pays for the package, The two-rider package. I started to get mad and he told me, "It's okay, you'll have fun. I swear it." Right after that, a couple got off and they both had peed themselves. He looks at me and shrugs. Then he tells me, "I already paid for the package." There are lots of screams as this thing is just flung into the air, they bounce around for a bit, and then it comes back down. It's too crowded to turn around now, there was no way I could get out of it.

Finally, it's our turn. I'm scared shitless as we climbed into this thing and get strapped in. The staff is joking around and [Benji] is just calm as hell. They tilt the bucket back and he takes my hand, looks over, and says "This is going to be a blast." The staff fucks around, makes a joke about finding a loose bolt, and off we go. The second he held my hand, I knew.

He has no fear. Everything is an experience to him, good or bad. Before we got in it, I had mental pictures of being flung into the parking lot as the cables snapped or being whipped around and smacked into the ground like The Hulk abusing Loki because only one of the cables broke. I screamed, sure, but it was from the pure excitement of it. The feeling of flying into space at escape velocity, only to feel the weightlessness and then the return to gravity. As soon as he took my hand, I knew nothing would happen to me. Even if it did, I wasn't alone. That was when I knew without any doubt.

When we finally set foot on solid earth again, I was certain of two things. I was in love and I had never been so horny in my life. He was just as calm getting out of the ride as he had been getting in. All he said was "Damn, that was fun." I didn't want to let go of his hand but I knew I had to. It would have been too creepy otherwise. I think I spent half the night masturbating and all I could think of was him. I can't remember one night on the rest of the trip where I didn't finger myself to sleep.

Toward the end of the trip, we were sitting in his room in Miami while it poured rain, he was doing something on his phone. I managed to get a look over his shoulder and he was editing videos of all the bikini-clad girls he had filmed during the trip, extracting stills and saving them. It had taken most of the trip but I finally figured out that me and Mom had actually set most of the itinerary. We were at the hotel, hanging out in his room, and I just had to ask.

"Why did you want to come to Florida, just to film babes in tiny swimsuits?" I was expecting some weird answer only he would come up with.

"Pretty much. You kept talking about seeing Disney World and Mom loves everything South Florida. Kills three birds with one stone." Never even looked up from his pictures.

After going to Disneyland, I was dying to see Disney World. It made me forget all about Hollywood celebrities and wanting to write fan fiction in favor of exploring my imagination. Mom loved listening to Jimmy Buffet and Kenny Chesney, she watched Miami Vice, Burn Notice, and Silk Stalkings constantly. He just wanted to look at girls in tiny bikinis and film them to jerk off to later, basically. He made no attempt to hook up with any of them. It was all an experience to him. Dad got to be Dad, ogling girls, flirting with Mom when he thought we weren't looking, and just generally being Dad.

Over the next four years, my love only got stronger. No matter what he did, he would come out of it unscathed and wiser for it. I was still afraid to do anything that I thought our parents wouldn't approve of unless [Benji] left me no other option.

Earlier, I said I was a "good girl". That doesn't mean I was a good person, though. Our parents had this weird preoccupation with premarital sex. I was born before they were married so I don't understand their opposition to it. I did what they expected. I barely dated in high school and never after the Florida trip for reasons I shouldn't have to explain at this point. I definitely thought about sex constantly, though, especially after the Florida trip. Using the old "I need a break from school" excuse, I got a full-time job so I could get health insurance. All to get an IUD. I couldn't get birth control pills, they would be discovered eventually. The IUD was the best solution. One day, I would work up the nerve to seduce [Benji]. That was my goal.

The first time he came home with Miranda, I cried. She was just like him. Adventurous, live for the moment, everything was an experience. She was more outgoing than he was and he started going out more on dates. Mom didn't like her, she thought Miranda was a little on the wild side, and [Benji] didn't need to be tied down with a baby at his age.

I didn't like her because, at some point, he would be fucking her and not me. That was the only reason I needed. He needed somebody to keep him in line, keep him grounded. He needed me, not somebody who would eventually get him in trouble.

Back to me not being a good person. They had been dating for a while, to the point where her being at the house wasn't unusual. They were down in the basement, watching TV. That's what my parents thought. They truly believed, even after 22 years of [Benji] being himself, that he seriously would not dare to have any sort of sex in their house, especially with them literally sitting a few feet away. I knew better. He thought the no premarital sex rule was stupid, they did it. If they did it, he could too. So he did, after a fashion.

I was upstairs, sulking. I hated her, she knew it and would do things to rub it in so I avoided them when she was over. The funny thing about our house is the basement TV room is underneath my room, the formal living room is between us but for some reason, I could hear everything that happened in that room. Everything. The upstairs den, where my parents were, had several dividing walls and the floor between them. They really couldn't hear anything unless it was really loud.

Those two were downstairs when the volume on the TV increased. I could hear parts of their conversation until that happened. I was sure I knew what was going on. I went downstairs, first to the kitchen as a ruse, and then snuck back to the basement. I crept down the stairs and saw what was going on. It broke my heart. I watched as he undressed Miranda down to nothing but bra and panties and he was removing her bra. When he started sucking on her nipples, I had to go back upstairs.

I waited a couple of minutes and then texted Mom, complaining that the volume was too loud, and asked her to ask them to turn it down. Mom didn't believe in yelling from room to room, so she went down there.

She caught Miranda sucking [Benji]'s dick, right there in her house. I still cried. I was sad that he was in trouble and I was disgusted at what I did. Miranda was banned from the house and he was told in no uncertain terms that he could not bring any girl here again while he lived here. That was a stupid rule and I knew what that meant.

But wait...that wasn't the worst thing I did. A couple of days later, I went down to the basement to see the scene of the crime. It felt like I could still smell Miranda in the room. So I cleaned it, top to bottom, including the fabric on the couch. In between the cushions, I found his condoms. Three of them, still wrapped. I stuck them in my pocket and vacuumed the couch thoroughly.

About a week later, I was writing when he came home from work. He had a small box in a pharmacy bag. I could hear a dresser drawer slide open, a scuffling noise, and then the drawer slide back again. I just knew he had bought more condoms and hidden them in his dresser. Probably to use on that bitch Miranda. His reaction to stupid rules was so predictable.

Fast forward to yesterday. I was editing the beginning of this little story when he went downstairs. He waited until he was sure I had gotten into what I was doing. I heard the sliding door to the backyard open. Twenty minutes later, I heard them trying to sneak downstairs. At that point, I had the idea for a story, another erotic story. I started working on it, plotting it out, trying to figure out the mechanics of strangling somebody from behind while they were having sex, when I heard him on the stairs.

He had discovered his downstairs stash was missing. As soon as I thought he was near the top step, I got into the whole figuring out things by acting them out in the middle of the room. He looked at me for a second, thought I was too busy to notice him, and went into his room. I heard the drawer slide open. The pause was nerve-wracking. He closed the drawer a little harder than usual.

I had sent my pre-saved message to Miranda as soon as he disappeared into his room. I was back at my desk when he came out, he gave me a look of pure venom, and then headed back downstairs.

I could hear her breakup conversation. I felt bad for him, but only a little. I just wanted her to go away mad. But I'll take her going away for good, too. He was even angrier when he came back upstairs. He threw his phone charger on the desk and accused me of taking his condoms. I denied it, of course. I lied. I took them and he knew it. I waited until he went to class and searched his dresser until I found his hiding spot. I knew he had one, but I hadn't been able to find it until now. He will be teased mercilessly, I know a great rubber band joke to use.

For a while, things had been great between us. I was writing for my Patreon account, saving money for an apartment. I was hoping I could convince [Benji] to come with me, where I could eventually seduce him and we could be together. I had discovered Literotica, where I could write out my fantasies anonymously and get feedback on them and nobody really knew they were about [Benji]. Everything was going the way I had hoped.

The breakup with Miranda has put a damper on that now. He's mad and I suspect he'll try to do something to get even somehow. That's been his way in the past. I'm still saving my money, though. Even when he's mad, I still want him. And he won't stay mad forever.

Note: I need to figure out where to put this when the time comes to publish. I should try asking on the forum. Change the names.

##########

I could only sit there and stare at the screen. I never should have read that. Holy fucking shit.

A shuffling sound from the doorway caught my attention. Lindsay was standing there, hand over her mouth and tears running down her cheeks. Oh, shit. I knew I was so fucked. I didn't know what to do, so I pushed the chair back, stood up, and walked past her. All I could say was "I'm sorry."

I went into my room and closed the door. I heard her door close and I could hear her cry. I kicked myself mentally for not closing down the word processor and file search windows. I hadn't just violated her privacy, I sodomized it and then shit all over it. There would be no room for the excuse of "I was looking for a picture" or whatever. Why did I do that?

I looked around my room. Thinking was hard. There was no doubt Lindsay would say something about this. Not specifically about the story, only that I had broken into her computer. That would be it for me. I had some money saved but not enough to rent an apartment. That required a deposit that I didn't have the money for. I could try rooming with somebody I knew, I could pay a portion of the rent, but I really didn't want to live with anybody. That meant more rules and less privacy. I almost laughed out loud at that. I was concerned about privacy after what I just did.