It didn't take long for nightly handjobs to turn into nightly blowjobs. And it shouldn't have surprised me, but Anne was amazing.
Admittedly I didn't have anything to compare it to, but sheer passion alone must have put her ahead of the field. She didn't just suck a cock, she worshipped it. Every part of her body somehow became involved, and she made you feel like your pleasure was what gave her pleasure. It never got samey, either—each night was a whole different experience.
The fact that she was gorgeous, Christian and my sister probably helped as well, but anyone could have given those blowjobs and I would have been impressed. And all of this without me seeing a single inch of her skin (except what I'd been seeing all my life.) It was starting to drive me wild—I was getting nightly blowjobs from the most sexy, gorgeous girl in the world, and I hadn't seen anything that the average man on the street couldn't see.
That wasn't the only thing that was annoying me, either. Mom and Dad, for obvious reasons, didn't know about what we were doing, and so they were still coming and waking me up at 6, sometimes letting me sleep in until 6:30. As my stamina grew, our nightly sessions were getting longer, and on nights when she was going out with Brad, I wasn't getting to sleep until 1am.
My relationship with my sister had never been one where I could insist on anything. She had the power, she always had, and even though she was on her knees for me every night, it's hard to break familiar patterns. Had I insisted, or threatened to cut her off, she almost certainly would have done what I said. But doing anything to risk the end of the blowjobs would have been ridiculous, so I never got the nerve up to ask her about maybe taking off some clothes.
But I did ask her about Brad. On nights when she didn't see Brad, we went to bed about nine, she'd sneak in around ten, and I could be asleep by ten forty-five, eleven o'clock tops. If all nights were like that, it would be fine. So I asked if she really needed to see Brad.
She insisted she did. She didn't even offer a reason, her eyes just defocussed, and she said that date nights were important. That Brad was important. I sometimes wonder if God gave teenagers stupidity so that we'd continue the species. So many girls from my town graduate highschool pregnant, and I think if teenagers were just a bit smarter, the human race would be at serious risk of dying out. For example, if your older sister is giving you mind-blowing oral sex each and every night of the week, and seeing her boyfriend in a completely non-sexual way, jealousy would be a pretty stupid emotion to feel, right?
And she freely admitted that there was nothing sexual going on between them, and I believed her. But I still felt outrageously, /stupidly/ jealous, and so one night I sneaked into the back of Dad's car, and went along with them during a date.
It's one of those things you never think about, how your sister behaves on a date. When she's around you, they're acting like they do around family. It's like trying to imagine your father getting in trouble at work, or your mother during sex. It's a part of their life that you'd never see, them behaving in a whole different dynamic to the one you see them in.
But had I imagined my sister on a date, it definitely would have been nothing like this.
Like I said, my sister isn't the giggly type, but I'd always gotten the impression she really liked Brad—a bit of nervousness or something would have made sense. Instead, she pulled up outside his house, got out of the car, sat in the passenger seat, and waited patiently for him to come out of the house. No tooting of the horn, no getting out to see him, nothing. I was hidden in the back seat, under some old blankets we kept in there for picnics and stuff.
As long as I didn't sneeze or wriggle around, they wouldn't see me, and I'd piled everything in such a way that I had a small but clear view of the front seats. I was counting on them not getting into the back seat to fool around—I figured my sister wasn't that kind of girl. A bit dumb, in retrospect, considering she had somehow become the kind of girl who gave her brother oral sex each and every night. If I thought my sister's behaviour was weird while waiting for Brad, (which I did) it got even weirder when he got into the car.
Neither of them said anything—no "hi", no "how are you", no "what do you want to do tonight?" Instead, he got into the car, made eye contact with her, and clicked once. Anne didn't say anything or visibly move, but you could sense that her eyes had unfocussed again. Brad snapped his fingers once more, and she slumped back in the car seat like she was asleep. Hidden under an old picnic blanket in the back seat, I was freaking out.
What had Brad done to my sister?? Was she drugged, dead, sick? Should I do something? If he clicked his hands at me, would I collapse as well? My brain was running at a million miles a second, while Brad drove the car at a much more reasonable pace.
I couldn't quite see where we were going, but after about ten minutes I realised we were well out of town. Just as I was about to leap out of the blankets and confront Brad, for (I assumed) drugging my sister and driving her out of town to date-rape her, he stopped the car, and Anne woke up. Well, "woke up" isn't the right term for it. She still had that weird, glassy, unfocussed feel to her, but she definitely sat up, and made eye-contact with Brad again.
"Anne." Brad's voice was.it wasn't like I'd ever heard him talk before. It was deeper, rich. It was like.you know that black guy who plays Darth Vader? Take his voice, and combine it with the black guy who plays God in that Jim Carrey movie. Brad was white, but his voice sounded like a deep, rich, smooth black guy's voice.
I was confused and furious, but even I would have trusted that voice. "Anne," he said. "Anne, you feel sexy." For the first time on the date, my sister spoke. Well, moaned. "Mmmmmmm." "Anne, you feel sexy. You are a sexy creature. You are a sexual being. You love sex.
You were built for sex. Sex is sexy. Sex, sex, sex." Anne started to squirm around her seat a bit. Her hands started to go up and down her body, like she was carressing herself. When she was coming up the bed to put her mouth on my cock, she.I dunno how else to put it, she slithered up.
It was one smooth, silky motion, and that's sort of what she was doing now. Only her hands were moving, but I could swear she was slithering around the car seat. I don't know if this is too much information or something, but I have to admit—I got hard.
Watching my sister moan and touch herself is pretty sexy in itself, but on top of that, I had to agree with Brad. My sister was built for sex. Fuck she was hot. "Tell me, Anne, tell me how you feel." "Mmmm," she moaned again. Her voice breathy, almost panting, but still strong.
"I feel sexy. I was built for sex. My hands are sexy, my hands were built for sex. My hands know how to make guys happy. My mouth is sexy, my mouth was built for sex. I know how to use my mouth to make guys happy. My hands were built for cock. My mouth was built for cock. My body is for sex, I want to be used for sex." Every time she said sex, her voice got a little bit higher, a little bit less controlled.
"It's right for men to use you for sex." "It's right for men to use me for sex." "When you see a cock, what will you want to do with it?" "I'll want to suck it." "The first cock you see, what will you want to do with it?" "I'll want to worship it with my hands, worship it with my mouth." "The first cock you see, what will you think of it?" My sisters hands stopped carressing her body. One snaked down to between her legs, to where I couldn't see.
The other extended two fingers, and she started sucking on them, she started using her mouth on them in ways that were extremely familiar to me. "I will love it." Masturbation was something that was still a guys-only sort of idea to me, but I could see Anne's arm moving around down there, and I was starting to get the idea. "Stop, Anne." Two words from Brad, and she froze. Literally froze—I couldn't see a single tremour, a single muscle moving on her body. It was amazing. Brad leaned in, and Anne's face turned to face his.
"You can't come until today's lesson is complete. Do you understand?" "Yesssssss", she hissed, like a sexually frustrated kettle. "Your hands are made for cock.
Your mouth is made for cock. But God gave you more gifts than those." For the first time, Brad reached out and touched Anne. He steered her hand to her sweater—it was one of those ones that button down the front.
It was pink, woollen. The little old ladies in church loved it, and she always got a few comments when she wore it on Sundays. He moved her hand to her buttons, and pushed the sides of it, like he was clicking a mouse or something. Almost like it was happening without Anne's control, the hand deftly started unbuttoning, starting from the top.
He led the hand halfway down and let go—the hand froze again, still like he'd never touched it. I couldn't clearly see from that angle, but I worked out later that she wasn't wearing a shirt or a blouse, just that sweater, and a black bra underneath.
I don't know much about bra sizes or cup sizes or anything like that, but Anne was certainly not lacking. She wore clothes that masked it, but more than a few of my mates had asked me if I'd ever seen her tits—they were probably her sexiest feature, behind those huge blue eyes of hers.
Brad leant right in, and spoke directly into Anne's ear—his voice was just a whisper, but it was a small car, and I could still hear what he was saying. "Your tits, Anne." She shuddered.
Maybe she hid her tits because she thought they were disgusting, maybe she was so aroused by what Brad was going to say next, but it was a strong shudder.
A shudder of either pure revulsion or exquisite excitement. "Your boobs. Your jugs. Your cans. Your hooters, your funbags, your norks, your titties." Every time he came out with another slang term, she shuddered again. "Your breasts, Anne. Your breasts were made to please men.
You were made to please men. Use your tits to make men happy. Your tits were made for cock. Do you understand?" She hissed again. It wasn't even a word, this time. I could see little flecks of spittle land on Brad's forehead. He ignored them. "The first cock you see will become your life. You will worship it, you will adore it. You will do anything and everything to keep access to that cock. You will love that cock in every way you know how.
If you're given a choice between God and that cock, between heaven and one more chance to play with it, which will you pick?" For the first time, I saw a bit of struggle in Anne.
Everything else Brad had said, she'd agreed with so quickly it was like it was her idea. But this, this choice between her faith and sex, this seemed to be a battle that Brad might not win. I glanced over at Brad. He sat there calmly and cooly, watching her intently. He didn't seem flapped at all—like if he lost, that was fine, all part of the game.
A full minute passed, maybe longer. It can be hard to tell when you're in the back seat of a car, watching your sister's mind fight itself. Brad and Anne were still making eye contact, and most of the worry had gone out of Anne's eyes. She still hadn't answered Brad's question, but she seemed to have reached a place of calm within her own head.
Brad reached over, and like he had with the buttons earlier, moved her hand to between her legs, and let go. Anne's eyes rolled back slightly, and the look of bliss returned. She whispered so softly I wasn't sure if I'd imagined it. "Louder, Anne. God can't hear you." "Cock! Cock, cock, cock!" Brad laughed, a sharp bark that seemed completely out of place with his calm, soothing voice.
He started the car, but before he started reversing, said two words to my sister. "Lesson complete." Suddenly I understood why he had to drive so far out of town for this, besides the risk of being caught. Anne's orgasm was loud and long, and we were outside Brad's house again before she completely came down from it, before she stopped panting. Brad snapped his fingers twice. The first time focussed Anne—she stared straight into his eyes again. He smiled, clicked for a second time, and (just like when he first got in the car) she slumped back, dead to the world, only awakening at the sound of his door closing.
Anne drove home in silence. I mean, I don't know what else I was expecting—people don't normally talk to themselves while they were driving.
It would have been nice if she had though, I was dying to know what she was thinking. It's another one of those things that you don't really think about much. What does your sister think about? Is she nervous before a date? What does she think of you? Of course, mine was a bit more unique than that—I wanted to know how this was all sinking into her head, how she was reacting to what Brad had said. I was still processing it myself. Most of me didn't believe it.
Or didn't want to belive it, anyway. The alternative didn't really make sense, but my mind was still holding onto that. I preferred the idea that my sister had spontaneously started coming into my room at night, that she had become.I dunno, overcome by lust. Her body /was/ built for sex, I guess I just figured the natural course of events was taking over. Like I said, it didn't really make much sense. Tonight, I figured, would be the test.
I waited in my room, nervously perched on the edge of my bed. If she came in and nothing new happened, maybe it meant that what Brad was doing was unrelated, it was just some weird game they played.
If I finally got to see her tits, it meant that some sicko really had hypnotised my sister. I wasn't sure which one I was hoping for more.
11pm came along. Like clockwork, my sister entered. The second I saw her, my heart sank and my cock rose—I don't know how she did it, but she was wearing her night gown, her staid, plain, virtuous Christian night gown—she was wearing it in such a way that it showed more cleavage than the girls on the red carpet she looked down on. Her eyes darted down to her generous display, and then up to mine. A small, meek, satisfied smile came onto her face as she saw how much I was enjoying the view.
I wish I could say I took the moral high ground, realised that my sister was here against her own will, and stopped everything then and there. But something about it just seemed so natural, so right. I was a man, she was unbelievably sexy.
It was right for me to use her for sex. Her body was built for it.
She didn't stop me as a reached out and pulled down her top. She didn't say anything as I stared at her magnificent rack, just arched her back slightly and bit her lip.
She didn't do anything but moan as I reached out and slowly started to carress her nipples. She did speak when I leant forward and applied my mouth.
"Yes," she hissed. "Lick me. Suck my tits. Do it." I could have done nothing but play with her teats all night, but after a few minutes of suckling my sister's mouth-watering nipples, her mouth inevitably moved down to my cock. We came simultaneously that night, my When Anne left that night, I couldn't sleep. My emotions were flying, and I couldn't work out what to do. I couldn't keep on doing what I was doing with my sister, I just couldn't. But at the same time, I couldn't stop. The next night, she convinced me to fuck her breasts.
It didn't make my decision any easier. --- Support my writing and get more stories at patreon.com/pan