﻿Bible Belt Redux

by Pan



Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2024-02-16 22:05:40
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,366
Publisher: mcstories.com
Story URL: https://mcstories.com/BibleBeltRedux/index.html
Author URL: https://mcstories.com/Authors/Pan.html
Summary: When Brodie flashes his ultra-religious sister, she is suddenly obsessed with his cock.
Erotica Tags: in, mc, md, mf





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3



	Chapter 1

It all started the day I flashed my sister.

See, we live out in the Bible Belt, a little place called Vernonberg. Everything you’re imagining, that’s it. I live in a town of about 200 people, and all of ’em cram into the same Church every Sunday. My sister is the head of the chastity club. Every boy in town probably thinks it’s a complete waste; she’s easily the hottest girl in the state.

I’d never thought of her in a sexual light before though. She was just my older sister—a bit of a pain at times, useful at others. Sometimes good company, sometimes the last person I wanted to hang around with. Y’know, just an older sister.

But it’s hard to stop thinking about someone in a sexual light when they become completely obsessed with your cock.

I had no idea what her boyfriend Brad was up to at the time. I knew him, of course—in a town this small, a new arrival is often the biggest news of the year. He was from New York, and his parents sent him out here to live with his uncle and aunt, some kind of punishment.

New blood—even from the Godless state of New York—is still attractive, and with her looks, my sister could have her pick of any guy. Less than a week after Brad moved here, they started dating.

I was trying to work it out later, and I must have flashed my sister about three weeks into the program. I didn’t mean anything by it—I just thought it would annoy her, be funny, you know. I thought she’d shriek, maybe tell mom and dad, at worst I’d get a talking-to and at best I’d get a good laugh.

So when she stopped in tracks and widened her big blue eyes, I wasn’t sure how to take it. She didn’t get mad, she didn’t say anything…she just stood there, staring at my dick.

After a few seconds, I asked if she was okay. She nodded and kept on staring.

I covered myself back up with my towel and returned to my room; she went back to hers.

Other than a passing thought of “wow, how weird” and briefly wondering if she was trying to get in my head to sort of prank me back, I didn’t really think much of it.

Meanwhile, she was continuing to see Brad every night or two. Like I said, it wasn’t until later that I found out what they were doing on their dates (except I knew that it wasn’t anything sexual, because…well, y’know. My sister has her flaws, but I knew how serious she was about the Chastity Club. She wanted nothing more than to go to Liberty University a virgin, find her soulmate, all that jazz.)

But I’ll tell you now because otherwise the next bit of the story won’t make sense: Brad got sent from New York because—and I genuinely didn’t believe this at first—he was caught hypnotizing girls.

Yeah, that’s right. Hypnosis, like in those old cartoons.

I dunno why they didn’t think he’d try it out here. Maybe they just didn’t care, as long as it was somewhere he couldn’t cause any bad press. His parents are big-shot lawyers out there, or doctors, or something like that.

But yeah—on each of their dates, Brad was taking my sister somewhere quiet and dark and just hypnotizing the heck out of her. Why he did it in such a risky way, I don’t know—maybe he only knew the one program, or maybe it’s something to do with giving them a fixation, something to obsess over. Maybe he just likes playing weird mind-games, I dunno.

But the program he was using was a simple one—it boiled down to the idea that the next penis my sister saw, she’d become obsessed with. She would want to fuck and suck and do everything with it. She’d masturbate thinking about it, do _anything_ to touch it, play with it every chance she got. She’d think about it before she went to sleep and be hungry for it first thing in the morning.

And in Brad’s defense, it was probably a pretty safe bet. Before I flashed her, I don’t think my sister had EVER seen a penis. Brad’s plan was obviously to finish the program then get her hooked on his dick and enjoy the benefits.

Three weeks into the six-week program, he had no idea that her kid brother would flash her in the hallway and accidentally hijack the whole thing.

She didn’t do anything for the next few days. Like I said, I’d pretty much forgotten about it. But two nights after I flashed her (it must have been a…Thursday?) she came into my room and sat on my bed.

“Hey,” I said. From my point of view, nothing was up. We weren’t _close_ close, but we weren’t at each other’s throats all the time or anything. Coming in for a chat wasn’t anything strange. She closed the door; not necessarily normal, but could just have been to talk about our parents or whatever.

“Hey...”

There was a weird pause, and I went back to reading my magazine.

“Hey Brodie,” she said...oh, that’s me! My name’s Brodie, and she’s Anne. I just realized I never told you that. “Hey Brodie, have you got a girlfriend?”

“No,” I said, without looking up from my magazine. “Why, are you offering?”

She didn’t laugh, but I didn’t really expect her too. Dad once said Anne got my dose of the serious as well as her own.

“I was just wondering if you...y’know. _Like_ anyone.“

“Not really, sis.” I wondered where this was going. I had no idea about Brad’s hypnosis at the time, I just knew that my sister was acting weird.

Poor girl. Even though she was only halfway through the program, she’d already spent two nights confused, replaying that moment in the hall again and again instead of sleeping.

“So…who do you think about when you, y’know, play with yourself.”

Suddenly her intentions seemed obvious. Anne’s Chastity Club were all about not only stopping people from having sex, but also preventing masturbation. Lusting after a woman is as bad as having an affair, all that. My sister had never tried to guilt me about it before, but I’d seen her go to work on other guys.

“Anne,” I groaned (a week later I’d spend a lot of time groaning my sister’s name, in a completely different way.) “I don’t really want to talk about that with you.”

“No no no,” Anne said, after a few seconds of confusion. “That’s not what I mean. I figure that, y’know, you’re doing it and that’s fine.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I mean, sure, we’re not really meant to lust, but better to have a bit of relief than to, y’know, do it. It.”

She looked a bit distracted for a few seconds, then her eyes regained their focus.

“And when I find,” she continued, “You know, the one, I was thinking about it...”

“Yeah?” I said, completely clueless. This was nothing like Anne. She had a slightly manic look in her eyes—a bit like she did when she was going on about the chastity club, or hearing the Word. It was a weird mix of passionate and exhausted—like I said, I found out later that she’d had less than five hours sleep in the last two days.

I probably could have talked her into pretty much anything if I’d known what was happening, but I wasn’t thinking like that. Yet. At that stage, I was just feeling worried about my older sister.

“So I was thinking that, y’know, if you...well, y’know.”

“Anne, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She shook her head, as if trying to get a cobweb out of her hair, or a voice out of her ear.

“I was wondering if I could watch you.

“What?”

“Y’know. If I could _watch you_.”

“Watch me what?”

She sighed, exasperated. I sort of knew what she was talking about, but didn’t want to be the first one to say it. If I’d misinterpreted what she was talking about, I’d never hear the end of it.

“Watch you...y’know. Masturbate.”

“Anne!” I was genuinely shocked. I’d never heard her use such language. I don’t even know if she’d ever said the word before; it certainly didn’t roll off her tongue.

The manic look was back in her eyes again. One of her hands was fiddling with the cross she wore around her neck, and she swallowed nervously before she replied.

“I just want to watch. Y’know, so I can learn. I want to see what it looks like.”

“Anne, is this some kind of weird joke? Is this revenge for the other day in the hall?”

She unfocussed for a few seconds, then snapped back.

“No! I...please, Brodie?”

I dunno what I expected. She was never good at arguing, and she’d never really had to do much to convince people to do what she wanted. Even mom was putty in her hands. She had that sort of aura around her—like God had picked her out for something special, like she was somehow better than other people. Maybe that’s what she thought too, and that’s why she never really tried that hard. If something was meant to be, it would happen, and if it wasn’t going to happen, it wasn’t meant to be…so why try too hard?

It worked on me, for whatever reason. Maybe just because it was so _weird_ ; my hyper-Christian, sex-before-marriage-is-as-bad-as-murder, virginal enough to make Mary look like a slut...my confident, gorgeous older sister had just asked me to masturbate in front of her.

But it was too weird for me to even notice how weird it was—I was focussed on what was happening, not the bigger pictures, so I just nodded and Anne breathed a sigh of relief.

This would have been the perfect opening to ask if she, y’know. Played with herself. But honestly, it never occurred to me that it was even a possibility. Girls, as far as I knew, didn’t, and especially not my sister.

I certainly had no idea that two days ago she had cum for the first time, thinking about me.

And then six more times since.

I awkwardly lowered my pajama pants. For a moment, I considered asking if she was sure, but the enraptured look on her face answered the question for me. As I pulled out my rapidly-hardening penis, I could have sworn that a slight moan escaped her lips.

We sat there for a few minutes, her breathing heavy as she stared at my member. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Like, I’d jerked off before, but never for an audience.

Finally, she broke off her gaze, and looked up at me.

Like I said, I’d never thought of my sister in a sexual light before…but something about her big blue eyes looking up at me, her hard breathing making her breasts heave, just from the fact that I was showing her my cock. The way her mouth was twisted in nervous excitement...for the first time, I realized how lucky her future husband was going to be, getting to have her every night.

When my sister’s tongue unconsciously flicked across her lips, I suddenly noticed how hard I was.

“So what now?”

I can’t remember if I asked that or she did, but one of us broke the silence, and we both giggled. I suddenly relaxed—this might be a weird situation, but she was still my sister.

I didn’t say anything, just slowly started stroking my hand up and down. Her eyes widened, and she leaned in closer.

For the next five minutes, the only noise was her breathing and me...well, jerking off.

“Watch out!” I grunted when I felt myself getting there, and she jumped backwards as I started to cum.

She watched, entranced, as I shot over my stomach and chest (I’d had the forethought to unbutton my pajama top.) Later in the week she’d have some questions, but that first night, she just sat and watched, drinking it all in.

With her eyes, that is. Not her mouth.

Not yet.

After I was done shooting off, I grabbed some tissues, cleaned up the mess, and we sat there in another awkward silence. The wild look was gone from her eyes—she suddenly seemed way, way more calm, but still a bit...antsy? You know, like she suddenly needed to be somewhere else, like she had something to do.

“Thanks for that, Brodes.” she said. “That was...really interesting.”

“Uh…no worries.”

Again, it would have been a perfect opportunity to ask her to now show me, but like I said, I had no idea that she DID, let alone that she probably would have obliged.

I wasn’t to know for a while, but after she sneaked out of my room, she had a masturbation herself, and then slipped into what she described as ‘the most restful sleep she’d ever had.’

The next day could have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Probably because of the great rest she’d had, she skipped into breakfast the next morning, stuck her tongue out at me (weirdly playful, even for her) and we didn’t really talk to each other for the rest of the day. We go to the same tiny school, of course, but even in a school of less than fifty people, it’s pretty easy to avoid seeing someone a few years older than you.

It wasn’t until late that night, after she got home from her date with Brad, that we spoke again. She knocked on my door at about half eleven. It was well after curfew, which was probably the safest time to make sure mom and dad wouldn’t catch her.

I had already pleasured myself that evening, just thinking about the previous night—I really wasn’t expecting a repeat experience. I didn’t know anything about the hypnosis or the obsession, I just took her at face value—I figured she’d wanted to learn how a penis worked, and that my demonstration would have satisfied her curiosity.

“Come in,” I said, and she slipped in still wearing her date clothes. Nothing even remotely slutty—wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea!—but with my sister’s body, she could make anything sexy, especially skin-tight jeans and a form-fitting sweater.

The manic look was back. And even though she no longer looked completely fatigued, she still wasn’t all there. Every now and again she’d lose focus in her eyes for a few seconds, and then drift back into alertness. It was weird, but I didn’t really waste any time thinking about it.

I had other things on my mind.

She sat on the end of the bed again. Despite having gone twice that evening already (and, uh, once that morning) just seeing my sister was enough to rouse my penis again.

“I was just wondering...” she started, then paused. I wasn’t giving her anything, and deliberately let the silence stretch on. Her behavior was weirding me out a bit, and I wanted to let her lead the way.

After a full minute had passed, she continued.

“I was just wondering if I could, y’know. Watch you again.” In response to my deliberately blank stare, she rolled her eyes and spelled it out. “I want to watch you masturbate.”

There’s something sexy about watching someone as pure as my sister say ‘masturbate.’ It’s a word that you just don’t expect from someone with a face like hers. If my penis was waking up when she entered the room, it was completely alert and ready to go after hearing her say a dirty word.

“Why? I thought you saw everything you wanted to see last night.”

“Well, yeah.” She paused and thought. Subconsciously, she knew _exactly_ why she wanted to see it again, but her conscious mind had to come up with an excuse, a justification. “But I don’t know if I really saw everything. Is that okay?“

She has a look. Dad calls it the heart-melter; she uses it on him every time that she wants to use the car, and she uses it on boys when she needs a favor, or a date (not that she needs to do much to get a date.)

Anne threw me the heart-melter, which did anything but melt other parts of me. Honestly, I was tempted to see how much she wanted to watch me. But knowing what I did then, I didn’t want to push my luck, just in case she changed her mind.

It was essentially just a repeat of the previous night. I jerked off, she watched—this time she asked a couple of questions, and didn’t jump back when I came—but nothing was majorly different. After I was done, she almost ran out of the room, and I was left puzzled and sticky.

This continued every night for the next 5 or 6 days—every night she would come into my room after curfew, make some weak excuse as to why she had to watch me masturbate, and sat entranced as I did.

It wasn’t until Wednesday, the next week, that she finally summoned up the courage to do more than watch.

It had almost become a routine—I’d wait each night for her knock, and we didn’t even need to discuss it. I’d pull myself out, she’d settle down at the end of my bed...

But this night (I’m pretty sure it was Wednesday, anyway) she touched my arm before I started.

“Could I try it?”

Despite the weirdness of what we were doing, I was still surprised. I mean, watching for educational reasons is one thing, but I was pretty sure that playing with your brother’s cock crossed some kind of line.

“Are you sure?” I asked, and then realized the ridiculousness of what I was asking. Anne didn’t do anything without being sure.

She nodded, and I sat back. I still look back at that as one of the most erotic moments of my life—my sister’s small, cold hand wrapping around my cock, her looking up at me nervously as she stroked it back and forth.

The last week had certainly served its educational purpose—Anne had picked a lot up, and as her hands went to work, I let out a moan without even realizing. She shushed me worriedly and we both broke out in the giggles again.

“How am I doing?” she asked softly, once our muffled laughter had subsided.

I don’t know if you’ve figured it out, but my sister has a pretty big head. Not literally; I mean she’s, like, arrogant. I decided that I wasn’t going to add to that, and so instead of gushing about her skill, I gave her some pointers. She listened intently, and once I was done, started again, incorporating my tips.

At this point, I started to figure that something was up. People don’t just start jerking off their brothers for no reason, y’know? But I didn’t connect it with Brad or anything. The question just quietly sat at the back of my mind, while the rest of me relaxed and enjoyed what is still one of the greatest hand-jobs of my life.

After less than two minutes, I was firing my stuff. Anne looked worried.

“It normally takes longer than that! Did I do it wrong?”

Remembering my earlier resolve, I assured her that she’d get better. She nodded seriously, apologized, _thanked me_ , and left the room.

Even if I hadn’t been taught that gambling was a sin…there were _no odds_ good enough that a week ago, I would have bet on my sister thanking me for letting her jerk me off. Before that night, I would have said it was literally impossible.

This repeated for a few days—she’d let herself into my room, jerk me off, ask for feedback, thank me, and return to her room. A few months later, I couldn’t help but laugh when she showed me the notebook she’d been keeping. Every piece of advice I gave her had been faithfully written down and memorized.

Saturday night, she took it another step forward. At the time—and yes, I know how dumb this sounds—I believed her justifications. Like, some part of my mind was aware that _something_ was going on, but I just didn’t think to question it.

“It makes such a mess, doesn’t it?”

This was the first time Anne had ever spoken while jerking me off. Normally she was completely focussed on my cock, treating it like it was the center of her universe. It was pretty amazing.

I wasn’t really listening. I never told her this, but my sister’s hand-jobs were the greatest thing I’d ever experienced. Better than eating my favorite meal while watching my favorite film with my favorite people. It was possible I was going to hell for having my sister jerk me off nightly, but I would happily have sold my soul just for one more incestuous orgasm.

It’s hard to experience that and hold a conversation at the same time.

“Huh?” I said, and she slowed down slightly to get my full attention.

“It makes a mess, doesn’t it? When you...y’know. Mess.”

“When I cum, Anne.” I corrected. Any advice I gave her about sex she lapped up, and I was trying to get her to talk dirty. Just for the fun of it, really.

“Oh yeah. Sorry. When you cum, when you…spill your seed. It makes a bit of a mess, hey?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” I wasn’t really sure where she was going, and didn’t want her to find an excuse to stop. “I can clean it up, no worries.”

“Oh, okay.” She looked disappointed, but renewed the hand-job with vigor. She’d somehow picked up this trick where she’d use both hands at once, or have one playing with my balls while the other stroked me.

“It’s just, I was thinking...”

“Hmm?”

“If it would be cleaner, I could just, y’know. Swallow it.”

I almost came then and there, but managed to control myself.

“Are...what? Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Anne said, thoughtfully. Her eyes seemed to drift away, but her hands didn’t slow down for a second. “I was just thinking, y’know. It would be cleaner.”

I pretended to think it over.

“Look,” I said, “if you want to. But I don’t want you spitting it out—if you take it in your mouth, you have to swallow it. It’s rude, otherwise.”

My sister nodded. I loved this power she gave me, the way she treated everything I said about sex as if it was straight from the Bible or something. Had I thought of it, I could have told her that you could only do a hand-job while naked; she probably would have gone for it. As it was, I had only seen the outline of her nipples against her PJ top (though I spent a lot of our time together imagining the rest of her.)

So I gave her a few seconds warning before I came, and she put her mouth around my head. The head of my penis, not my head head. The end of my penis.

She put her mouth around my head, and an odd, patient look appeared on her face. The feeling of warmth around my dick was a new one—a hand-job is just like a better type of masturbation, but having someone put their mouth on you was a whole different thing.

I accidentally thrusted forward as I came, but she adjusted and took half my cock in her mouth without complaint. Her nose curled in disgust as my seed entered her mouth, but as promised, she swallowed it all down.

“Thanks, Brodie.” I just nodded in response—I always found myself getting super quiet right after I came—and she left the room.

I remember the next night was a date night, so it was getting close to midnight when she snuck into my room. Just as I was so sure that she wouldn’t return on that second night, it was now a guarantee that she would be there, every night, ready to jerk me off.

This time, there were no words. She came in, I took myself out, and she jerked me off until I came. This time, she could tell when I was about to come though, and again that patient look appeared on her face and she put her mouth around me.

Even once I’d learned about the hypnosis, it took me almost six months before I put two and two together. That night must have been about enjoying the taste of cum, craving it, because when I spurted into her mouth, there was no look of disgust.

Instead, there was a look...you know how a cat looks when it’s really proud of itself? Or no, actually, a cat when you give it a bowl of great cat food, or a fish or something. You know how a cat looks both satisfied and proud, like it has somehow earned the fish? That’s the best way I can describe the look on Anne’s face.

I came, and she looked simultaneously happy, satisfied, proud of herself, and...content. Blissful, like all her dreams had come true. Without saying anything, she leaned over and kissed me on the mouth—just a peck—and quietly left the room.

I don’t know if it was the silence, or the look of satisfaction on her face, or even the kiss, but for the first time, Anne left me needing to jerk off straight after one of her visits.


	Chapter 2

Hey! My name’s Anne. My kid brother Brodie asked me to share my half of the story—I kept pretty good records, so I can tell you exactly what happened.

I had no idea what Brad (my boyfriend at the time) was up to. When he moved to Vernonberg, I remember thinking he was cute. I wasn’t surprised when he asked me out, but I was surprised by what a great time we had together.

Now that I think about it, he might have just hypnotized me to think that it was a good time. I had no idea he was hypnotizing me at all, let alone that he was programming me so that the first penis I saw would become my obsession.

I wish I had. Everything that followed would have made so much more sense.

When Brodie flashed me, I remember two things running through my head simultaneously. One part of me was like “ew, what is he doing, what a gross little turd.”

The rest of me couldn’t stop staring at it. Even when he put it away, it was like the image was burned into my brain.

The part that was grossed out got smaller and smaller, and by the time I wandered back into my room, it had disappeared completely.

Laying in my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’ve never had something take over my brain like this—y’know how sometimes you get obsessed with a fight you’re having with your mom, or a boyfriend, or you read a really awesome Bible verse and it gets locked in your head? It was like that, but ten hundred times worse.

I knew I should have been grossed out, I knew I should have been thinking about how sinful it was, or that he was my little brother, or that I was saving myself...but all I could think about was the few seconds that I’d spent looking at his pee-wee. I kept replaying that moment, over and over, like I was memorizing its shape, its color...part of me was even convinced that I could remember the smell.

I pulled out one of my sketch pads, and within a few minutes I had a pretty decent drawing of his thingy down. I wasn’t completely happy with it though, and I ripped the page out and drew it again...and again and again and again. I didn’t even notice until Mom called me down for dinner, but I was sitting there drawing his penis for close to two hours.

After dinner, I ran back upstairs. Everything we’d eaten had reminded me of his package in some way...sausages for obvious reasons, the baked potatoes reminded me of the wrinkly sack that had been sitting underneath it, even the broccoli seemed like a less delicious version of his pubes. Ew, right? But I wasn’t grossed out at all. Thinking about tasting his pubes just felt like the best idea I’d ever had.

If it had ended there, it would have been fine. I could have brushed it off as, like, a reaction to seeing a dinky for the first time, or Satan trying to corrupt me but failing.

But as soon as I lay down on my bed, I realized that without even noticing, I’d been pinning up each picture straight after I’d drawn it. Thank the Lord that Mom or Dad didn’t come into my room that night; it would have been pretty hard to explain why there were so many doodles of doodles all around my bed.

Laying there, staring at them, my mind began to go into overdrive. I started to imagine that each of the drawings I’d sketched really _was_ his penis, and each of them was coming towards me...sort of like the brooms in Fantasia. I imagined them with little arms and legs, marching towards me, wanting to get inside my mouth and my butt and my...y’know. Down there.

It sounds like a nightmare, but it was anything but. I’d heard of girls getting wet before, and I think I’d even experienced it once or twice, but I was raised a good Christian girl, so normally I’d just ignore those urges until they went away.

That night, I couldn’t ignore them. I just lay back, getting squirmier and squirmier, imagining all those Brodie-winkies marching all over me, rubbing against my skin, entering me any way they could, squirting me full of their holy seed...

I’m glad I closed the door. I’m embarrassed to admit, I wasn’t able to stop myself from touching...myself. I’d never done it before, but somehow my hands knew exactly where to go, exactly what to tweak and where to play and where to poke and what to fondle. It wasn’t long before I was bucking off my bed, tightening around my own wet fingers, experiencing my first ever orgasm.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I tried putting all the pictures into my drawer, but as I lay in my bed, I felt like I could hear them calling me, like I could hear Brodie’s dink whispering my name, calling for me.

Eventually I pulled the sketches out and looked at them, trying to convince myself that there was nothing fascinating about my brother’s wee-wee, that it was just an ordinary part of life, definitely not one worth obsessing over.

But as I stared at the pictures, I found myself remembering details I hadn’t drawn. My hands itched for a pen until it felt like they were burning. Eventually, I stopped fighting them and started correcting, enhancing all the pictures.

Heaven forgive me, I played with myself again before I eventually drifted off to sleep. All night I dreamed of me and Brodie engaging in intercourse.

It probably didn’t help that the little sleep I did get was on top of the sketches I’d spent all night working on. It was as close as I could get to sleeping with his dong inside of me, and I loved it.

The next day was hard, especially at school—it was made easier as I realized a few things. Brodie, like all of us, was made in the image of God, so it wasn’t really Brodie’s wing-ding that I was obsessing about, it was...God. Sort of.

It didn’t make a lot of sense, but the idea helped anyway.

The second thing I realized was that I’d only seen Brodie soft. I’ve never seen it happen, of course, but I know the basics—when a man gets excited, his penis hardens, and that’s the only way he can engage in intercourse. I was thinking about Brodie’s soft penis, so it wasn’t even sexual!

The trouble was, when I got home, I couldn’t stop wondering what it would look like hard. Did it grow, or was it just the same but with a different texture, a different feel? Was it hard like plastic, or like wood? (people call it wood—is that what they mean?) What would it look like, feel like, taste like?

I’m proud to say I didn’t find out that night. I used every ounce of self-control that I could to stop myself from doing anything—I even tried to act normal around Brodie! (although I must admit I spent way more time staring at his pants than I normally would.)

That second night, I had just as much trouble sleeping as the first. At first, I got it into my head that if I just made myself orgasm again, I’d drift right off...the first one was easy: I just shut my eyes, shoved my hand down my pants, and completely failed to avoid thinking about Brodie and I ‘doing it’. Within a few minutes, I was again bucking against my hand, crying his name and experiencing the strongest sensations I’d ever felt in my life.

Unfortunately, it didn’t help. I spent about an hour writing in my diary, but even that did nothing—I was just as wide-awake as ever, aware that the penis that I was so desperately craving was just one room away, knowing that with a few short steps, I’d be in the same room as it, and with one look and a few words, I could probably have it out, have it in my hand, in my mouth...

Reading over my diary, it reads like a pornographic novel (I assume). I started getting wet again from writing it, and figured that bringing myself off again would solve that problem.

I spent the next few hours discovering the delights of orgasm. All I had to do was imagine Brodie, my kid brother Brodie, the boy who I’d helped learn to read and taught to ride a bike, fought with about who was going to get the larger slice of pie…all I had to do was imagine Brodie pinning me down and making love to me, or forcing me to suck on his member, and I was easily able to orgasm around my fingers.

Sleep didn’t come quickly, but when it did I was out cold. I was so tired that my alarm didn’t even wake me, and I was put in the embarrassing position of having my mom come into my room and shake me. It was a good thing that I’d been pleasuring myself under the blanket, because my fingers were still inside me (imagining that I was being filled up by Brodie helped me sleep).

_That_ would have been difficult to explain.

The next night, I finally caved. I’m not proud of it, and I know it probably makes me a bad person, or a sinner, but I couldn’t resist any longer. I sneaked into Brodie’s room, and...well, he’s already told you that part.

It all continued the way Brodes described for almost two weeks; every night I’d sneak across the hall, jerk him off, swallow his emissions down, then sneak back to my room and make notes of what I’d learned that night, until I couldn’t resist any longer and I’d diddle myself to sleep.

Brodie’s cock had been fascinating to me when it was soft—when it was erect, it was like all the best books I’d ever read, combined and injected directly into my brain. I couldn’t believe how much it entranced me—I’d spend all day thinking about it, replaying key moments of his masturbation in my mind, remembering the taste, the smell, even the look of lust in his eyes as he watched his sister bringing him off...

I felt a bit bad about cheating on Brad, but we weren’t anything serious. He was fun, and he was definitely cute, but nothing about him could compare to how I felt when I saw Brodie’s thick member, or the sensations that ran through me when I touched it, held it in my mouth, felt it cumming...

One night, immediately after a date with Brad (heaps of my attitude changes happened straight after a date with Brad, something I didn’t piece together until Brodie told me what was happening) I was in Brodie’s room and as I held him in my hands, I realized that it wasn’t enough.

I needed more. I needed to taste him, and not just when he was cumming. I needed to have his cock in my mouth, I needed to pleasure him with my tongue and my cheeks and do whatever I could to bring him as much pleasure as I could with my sexy mouth.

My mouth was built to take cock. Brodie’s cock. It was more than just a desire, it was an overwhelming urge. I needed it more than I’d ever needed anything; the choice between cock in my mouth and oxygen would have been an easy one to make.

I guess this is why Brad was only going to show me his cock at the end of the program, so that these feelings would have a bit of time to settle. At the time, it was more than a little scary—I was practically crying with need; my mouth felt empty, and I felt like I would die if Brodie didn’t let me suck on his gorgeous penis.

Fortunately, Brodie’s not that different to most teenaged boys. All I had to do was ask, and he nodded in pleasure and shock. I didn’t hesitate, just in case he was going to change his mind—I dove in, and took his glorious member deep inside my throat.

It was amazing. The taste I was already a bit familiar with, but having the whole thing in my mouth was like Heaven on Earth—I could feel every vein, every ridge, every wrinkle with my tongue. I could taste his sweat, a taste only rivaled by his cum. My mouth felt gloriously full as I swallowed him as far as I could.

His pubic hair was on my lips within minutes...I remembered thinking that if I was put on this planet for just one thing, it was for sucking cock. I was able to take the whole thing down my throat almost instantly, and as the base of my little brother’s cock stretched my lips out, I shut my eyes and visualized it, imagined what we must look like right now—me, the hottest girl in all of Vernonberg, taking the most beautiful cock in the world so far down my mouth I felt like he was brushing against my tonsils.

After the initial accomplishment of getting the whole thing inside my throat, I set to work, licking and sucking the head, taking mental notes of what Brodie liked and what he didn’t. Barely minutes after I started, he was holding my head down as his cock twitched, and ropes of his cum started to arrive inside my my mouth.

I loved every second of it.

That night, I asked Brodie if we could go again...I only just managed to hold back from begging. I wanted him inside my mouth 24/7, I wanted to feel him ejaculating onto my pink tongue again and again, all night long...but he was tired, and needed to sleep.

I nodded in agreement, of course—I would have done anything he’d asked me to—but I don’t think I slept at all that night. I just played with myself, over and over again, trying to recreate the sensation by taking anything I could down my throat. Cans, bottles...anything even close to the same shape was in my mouth that night as I furiously rubbed myself, just wanting to go back and give my little brother head once more.

It was amazing. He’s amazing. I don’t even care that Brad made me feel this way; I’ve never been happier.

Here’s Brodie.

* * *

So yeah. It didn’t take long for nightly hand-jobs to turn into nightly blow-jobs. 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 at the top of the field.

My sister didn’t just suck a cock, she’d worship it. Every part of her body would somehow become involved; it makes you feel like your pleasure is what gives her life.

It never got samey, either—every night, when she came into my room and went down on me, it was a whole different experience.

The fact that she was gorgeous, Christian and my sister probably helped as well, but anyone could have delivered that head and I would have been—no pun intended—blown away.

The worst part about all of this (except for maybe the guilt, which disappeared almost immediately when her lips wrapped themselves around my cock) was that it went down without me seeing a single inch of her skin.

Except what I’d been seeing all my life, she wasn’t showing anything off at all. It was starting to drive me wild—I was getting nightly blow-jobs from my sister; 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 six, 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 one in the morning.

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 blow-jobs wasn’t even an option, 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 had been like that, there wouldn’t have been a problem.

So I asked if she really needed to see Brad. She insisted she did. She didn’t even offer a reason, her eyes just unfocussed, 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 high-school 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, but fortunately it all worked out okay.

If I thought my sister’s behavior 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? Sick? Dead?? 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 as 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 realized we were well out of town.

Just as I was building up the courage 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, unfocussed feel to her, but she sat up straight, 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 I couldn’t help but trust that voice.

“Anne,” he said. “Anne, you feel sexy.”

For the first time since I’d gotten in the car, my sister spoke.

Well, she moaned, anyway.

“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 caressing 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 caressing 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, using her mouth 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 tremor, 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, woolen. 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 in the chestal region. 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 leaned 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 pleasure.

“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. 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 coolly, watching her intently. He didn’t seem bothered 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. Her face went red and she started to sweat, all without moving at all.

At the end of the minute, 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 focused 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 car’s 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 believe 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 hypnotized 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 Cosmo cover models that 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, realized 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 caress her nipples.

She did speak when I leaned 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—she was much quieter than she’d been in the car, but I still recognized the signs.

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.

When she came into my room the next night and convinced me to fuck her titties, it didn’t make my decision any easier.


	Chapter 3

“I’m going to a Christian camp,” Anne announced at breakfast one day.

My name is Brodie. My sister is a few years older than me, gorgeous, and spent each night sneaking into my room and getting me off with her hands, mouth, and perfect tits.

I’d recently discovered that my sister was being hypnotized by her boyfriend Brad. In the month or two that they’d been dating, he’d been slowly programming her to become addicted to the first cock she ever saw. He was obviously planning on finishing the program and showing her his own cock, but one day I’d flashed my sister as a joke and become the target of her desires as a result.

Since then, she’d been sneaking into my room each and every night. At first she’d just been watching me masturbate, but that had quickly become hand-jobs, which had in turn evolved into blow-jobs, and eventually tit-jobs.

A few weeks ago, I’d followed her on a date, and found out exactly what Brad was doing. I’d been repulsed, furious, protective...and incredibly turned on.

* * *

I’d hidden in the back seat of the car, heard Brad hypnotize her, heard her cry out her allegiance to cock...and I’d also discovered how Brad was doing what he did. Each date he’d push her boundaries just a little bit further. I hadn’t seen anything more than what her modest (but, given the circumstances, incredibly sexy) night-gown normally showed because he hadn’t programmed exhibitionism into her yet.

The night that I heard him hypnotize my sister, he’d told her that her hands and mouth were built to please cock (which I couldn’t help but agree with; I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone who can pleasure me like my sister) and added something new—her breasts.

Brad had told Anne that her breasts were made to please men as well.

I won’t beat around the bush: my sister is well-endowed. More than that...she’s extremely busty. She’s so top-heavy I’m amazed she doesn’t fall over from the sheer weight of them. Before Brad came along, I was aware of that, but only on a brother-sister level, y’know? I wasn’t hot for her like all my friends were. (and I mean ALL my friends. I don’t think there was a single boy my age who hadn’t brought up my sister’s tits in conversation at least once.)

Since her night-time visits had begun though, I won’t lie...I’d become a tiny bit obsessed with them. I was fascinated with all of her, I guess...when she first started watching me jerk off, I became entranced by her big, beautiful blue eyes...when she started jerking me off herself, I started obsessing about her hands, and when she started sucking me, I couldn’t look at those big ruby-red lips of hers without getting hard.

It made it difficult to sit across the table from her during meals, I’ll tell you that.

And since I’d heard Brad telling her that her breasts were made for men to admire, designed to get men off...well, I hadn’t been able to get them out of my head.

Fortunately, immediately after the date that I eavesdropped on, Anne had come into my room as usual, and I could see how quickly Brad’s commands took effect. She was wearing the same old nightgown, but she’d managed to adjust herself in such a way that she showed more cleavage than ever before.

I came particularly quickly that night, and dropped off to sleep straight after. Anne’s date nights were running later and later—and now I understood why!

The next night, nothing changed. I was starting to work out how Brad did it—instead of dumping a heap of new information at once, he’d slowly change her thoughts, alter her ideals...instead of suddenly making her a tit-fucking nymphomaniac, he’d planted the idea that her breasts were designed to make men happy one night, and then hinted at the idea that they were particularly good at serving cock the next.

And two date-nights after that, I’d have to guess he gave up on hinting, because Anne came into my room, slipped her nightie off her shoulders, and nervously exposed her tits.

I must have stared for ten whole minutes before I realized that neither of us had said anything. Anne, for all her looks and confidence, had still never really been with anyone before. (I mean, I knew she hadn’t done anything with Brad, and as coordinator of the chastity club at school, it’d be a bit suss if she’d hooked up with any of the other guys she’d dated.)

So even though she was stunning, sexy, and just downright beautiful, I could still see the look of worry in her eyes as I checked her out. She should have been able to tell from my gaping stare how hot I thought she was, but her lack of experience extended to boy’s reactions as well, I guess.

“Wow,” I eventually said, putting her out of her misery. She visibly relaxed, causing her boobs to bounce a little as she sighed in relief. “Anne, those are...I don’t think I’ve ever seen such beautiful tits.”

“What other tits have you seen?” she asked, confused. Maybe I should have felt guilty—each and every night I was cumming inside my sister’s mouth, and she didn’t even know about the porn that perverts like me could access online.

Maybe I should have stopped things then and there, realized that I was taking advantage of a true innocent...but all I could think about in that moment was how hot she made me, and how much I wanted to touch her breasts.

“None,” I said, not wanting to go into long explanations. “But even if I’d seen every other girl in the world, I know I’d still be able to say that.”

She smiled—that heart-melting smile that always drew my attention to her lips and got me hard.

But I could tell it wasn’t those lips I was going to be fucking tonight.

“Do you wanna...” she gestured. Clearly Brad had put the idea in her head, but she didn’t have the words for it. I was curious to see how she’d express the idea, but again I put her out of her misery.

“You want me to fuck your tits?” I asked. Two months ago, the idea of saying that sentence to my sister would have been impossible...now, it was met with an enthusiastic nod.

“Oh god, yes...” she replied, not even aware that she’d blasphemed. (again, for the old Anne, that would have been unthinkable.) “I’ve been dreaming about this...I don’t even know why, but I just…I just…”

She trailed off once more. Like I said, I think my sister was simply lacking the vocabulary to express her own arousal.

I had some hand-cream in my bedside drawer, even though it’d been unused since Anne’s nightly visits had started. I explained to her that I’d have to be the one to administer it to her tits, and bless her innocence, she didn’t even think of questioning me.

My hands coated in cream, I leaned forward and for the first time got to touch my sister’s glorious orbs.

I could have sat there for hours; my first real life boob-touch was everything I’d hoped it’d be, and more. Her tits were soft, her nipples were instantly hard (and surprisingly rubbery...)—I must have run my hands over every inch of my sister’s tits at least ten times before finally remembering that this was just a warm-up for the main course.

She was moaning and writhing like an animal in heat. Except for the orgasm I’d overheard from the back seat of our family’s car, I’d never seen Anne so openly turned-on. It was as hot as the hell her actions were undoubtedly sending us to.

When I stopped, she leaned forward and tried to follow my hands with her tits, but I was focused on what was about to happen.

I pulled my cock out, and she stared at it adoringly. _I’ll never get sick of that_ , I thought. Even though I knew it was Brad’s doing, there was still something incredibly hot about Anne staring at my cock like that. Her body was, after all, made to please cock, and as the lucky beneficiary of Brad’s mind control, it had been specifically programmed to please mine.

What man wouldn’t enjoy that?

Her tits well-lubricated, I slipped my cock in-between them, and started to slide in and out of her cleavage.

It was heaven.

I guess part of it was in my head; the knowledge that only a few minutes after seeing my sister’s tits for the first time, I got to slide my cock in and out of it...but the physical part felt pretty great as well. Her boobs were so soft—the hand cream that I’d rubbed onto them had turned her cleavage into a soft, wet tunnel, and my cock loved it.

Cumming at least once a day had slowly built up my endurance (I kept expecting Anne to complain that her jaw was getting sore, but I guess her love for my dick outweighed any discomfort she might have felt) but the sheer erotic charge of fucking my sister’s tits combined with the build-up of getting to fondle them and stare at them for the first time, and ensured that it didn’t take more than a few minutes before I was shooting my load all over Anne’s face.

Back then, I didn’t know her orgasm face that well, so I can’t be one hundred percent sure...but I think that just the sight of my cock, inches from her face, blowing a load all over her...I’m pretty sure that was all it took to push her over the edge.

It was an amazing sight. Her moans, a little squeal or two, a flush not only on her face but all over her chest...and then just a few seconds later, she was done and I had my big sister back. Anne smiled at me, her face covered in cum, and laughed.

“It’s messy, isn’t it? But just as much fun.”

After that, tit-fucking became a regular part of our night-time activities. Depending on our moods, Anne would suck my cock, or I’d fuck her titties, or sometimes I’d just play with them while she jerked me off.

Until, of course, her breakfast announcement.

* * *

I responded to my sister’s news by almost choking on my Cheerios, but managed to cover it up with a cough. If I was really the good guy I was tying to be, my initial thought would have been worrying how she was going to survive without access to her addiction, but honestly, my first worry was how _I_ was going to survive without sex for a week.

My parents just nodded—this was the sort of thing that they were used to hearing every month or three—and asked who was hosting it, where it was, all that stuff.

“It’s one that Brad told me about,” Anne replied, and my head snapped up to watch her as she continued. Her eyes were unfocussed, and she was swaying slightly.

Thinking about it, I’m not sure how Brad managed to convince my parents he was the perfect little Christian that he clearly wasn’t. Maybe he hypnotized them too? Or maybe Anne’s recommendation was good enough, because she’d never been wrong before. About anything.

But Anne’s declaration that she was going was enough for everyone except me. I did the fastest research ever, and proved my suspicions correct—there was no camp. Brad was taking Anne, presumably to finish the program and expose himself to her. Would that cancel out me? Would she now be addicted to two cocks?

I didn’t know what to do. I definitely didn’t want this hypnotizing scumbag to take advantage of my sister, so I knew I had to do something fast. I knew I had to tell her what was happening, what Brad was doing.

That night, Anne sneaked into my room as normal. Over the past week she had started playing with herself while pleasing me, which was new and interesting and the dress code had been updated, presumably as a result of Brad’s sessions.

She had started wearing underwear—at first just her boring stodgy bras and panties, but over the course of the week they had gotten sexier and sexier. I dunno if she had bought some herself on trips to the city or if Brad had been supplying her, but whoever was buying—they had good taste.

Tonight’s number was a g-string (it must have been Brad’s influence, because I could have sworn g-strings was near the top of her list of sins) (although I guess incest and masturbation were probably higher) and a half-cup bra, which was something I’d never even known about before my sister started wearing it for me. I have no idea what her excuse would have been if mom or dad had caught her with that in the hallway.

Knowing my sister though, she probably could have explained it away. “No Mom, it’s fine. It’s for Halloween.”

She looked at me with a cute puzzled expression when I slapped her hand away. Not like slapped slapped, but stopped her from undoing the buttons on my pajama pants, as had become our standard opening ceremony.

“Anne,” I said, “we have to talk.”

I patted the bed next to me, and she sat down. Her nipples were at attention, but I barely managed to resist playing with them. They were perfect little red buds, built to please men. She noticed me staring, and smiled. I very nearly had to slap my _own_ hand away.

“Anne,” I said again. “Have you ever wondered why we’re doing this?”

She looked thoughtful for a second, then shook her head.

“I mean, you know it’s not normal, right? You’re coming into my room each night, dressing up like you’re my plaything.” (her smile came back at that, eager and proud).

“I’m your brother. We shouldn’t be doing any of this. Every night, we’re...we’re practically fucking!”

That was a bad choice of words. She bit her lip, her eyes vagued out, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

“Anne, focus!”

Another thing that had been changing—not only in the last few week, though I had definitely noticed it more since witnessing her date—was that Anne was becoming more and more submissive. Most noticeably with me, but she was doing it with everyone, or at least every male. Dad, bringing groceries in, had asked her to give him a hand with the door, and she had almost tripped herself on her rush to open it.

So when I snapped at her to focus, she immediately sat up, started staring me intensely in the eyes, and tried to answer my question.

Well, she didn’t try very hard.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. “I thought...I thought you were enjoying this.”

“Yes,” I said, and immediately regretted it when her eyes rolled back again, “but why? Why are we doing this?”

I don’t know if it was a part of Brad’s programming, or my sister’s natural ability to make everything revolve about her, but she looked down at her exposed tits, and frowned.

“I thought...I thought you’d like this. I thought it—”

I cut her off.

“Anne, not the point!”

“It’s okay,” she smiled back at me. “I can take it all off.”

As I sat and watched my sister unhook her bra and slide down her panties, I realized three things. Firstly, my life had changed so much that I was actually struggling to remember what life was like before the day I flashed my sister. Secondly, my sister had changed so much that she was almost unrecognizable—I was sure that Anne of two months ago would never have shaved her pussy, let alone done it because a few nights earlier, I’d let slip that I thought the idea was sexy.

And thirdly, Brad’s programming must have been nearing an end, because I was pretty sure my sister was about to try to fuck me.

I’d never really thought about sex much before.

Well no, that’s a lie. I’d thought about sex plenty, and in great detail. But I’d never thought about sex as something that could actually happen to me. Whenever I’d played with myself, I’d imagined someone cute and willing. Enthusiasm is sexy, even when it’s just enthusiasm that you’re imagining. No one gets off thinking about having sex with someone who’s not really interested in them.

But even in my wildest fantasies, I’d never thought it would be with someone as cute, willing, and enthusiastic as my sister.

Before you judge me for what happened next, I want to make it clear that I did try to stop her. I said “no” several times; maybe not as loudly and forcefully as I could have, but the word definitely came out of my mouth. I did nothing to encourage her; I tried to push her away, but my hands kept on ending up on her sizeable breasts, and once your hands make contact with tits, they sort of don’t want to stop, y’know?

And when I finally summoned up the will to tell her it wasn’t happening, her mouth sort of landed on mine.

Anne wasn’t my first kiss. I’d gone on one of Anne’s Christian camps once, and a girl there had thought I was cute. It wasn’t anything serious—I was 11—but I just want to make it clear that I’ve kissed a girl other than my sister, okay?

Having said that, Anne was my first _French_ kiss. If you’ve ever had a hot naked girl writhing on your bed, forcing her tongue into your mouth and said no, then you can judge me for what happened next.

In short, we fucked.

I had no idea Anne’s feet were as nimble as they were. While she was kissing me and holding my hands onto her tits, one of her feet managed to pull down my pajamas and underpants. She lowered herself down on me—she was so aroused that my cock had no trouble parting her pussy lips, so wet that the resistance was almost non-existent, so ready that she took my entire shaft in one agonizingly slow move.

She would have been a virgin, I guess—I didn’t think about it at the time. (I wasn’t really thinking about _anything_ at the time). My guess is that she’d been practicing on hairbrushes or something like that, because there was absolutely no evidence that my cock was the first thing to penetrate her pussy.

“Brodie,” she moaned as I thrust into her, and I’ve gotta admit it was pretty hot hearing my name moaned so lustfully by someone I was having sex with. Maybe part of Annne’s “training” had been researching it online, maybe she was just naturally skilled at it (as she was so many things in life), but even though it was her first time, it was absolutely perfect.

Anne knew what muscles to squeeze; the noises she was making remain the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, and even though she spent most of it with her eyes rolled back in her head in bliss, she was able to gauge exactly what I wanted and start doing it before I even realized that I wanted it.

Her mind had been so thoroughly programmed to serve men, most of it was probably subconscious. Without even being aware of it, she was using her mouth, her hands, her breasts, her pussy...everything she had at her disposal, from her voice to her skin, just for me. Just to please me. Her entire body was dedicated to giving me as much pleasure as she possibly could, and…wow. I’m guessing you haven’t been on the receiving end of that, but believe me, it’s pretty amazing.

I feel a bit bad that I haven’t mentioned my sister’s ass before—like the rest of her body, it was absolute perfection. Pert, round, big-but-not-Beyonce-big...and when you’re drilling her, fantastic to grab a hold of.

“Oh feel my ass,” she moaned when I reached around and grasped it, “please Brodie please, touch my ass.”

Like I said, my brain was pretty much turned off at this point—my sister’s body is so perfectly constructed, so ripe for fucking, all I can think about when I see or touch it is how much I want to have sex with her. If I had been thinking, I probably would have second-guessed myself and not been bold enough to do it, but without that filter I just acted, and put a finger inside her rear.

Maybe it was the sheer wrongness, maybe one of Brad’s lesson plans had been about what a glorious ass she had and how it was built for pleasure, but it was that act which set her over the edge. She started screaming in pleasure and I could feel her tighten around me, setting my orgasm off as well.

During most of Anne’s nightly visits, she’s had her mouth full. I don’t think either of us were prepared for the noise that she made as we simultaneously came, as I spurted inside of her and she rhythmically tightened around me. It was loud and joyful, and though my parents are heavy sleepers, I fully expected them to come bursting through the door and catch us.

Perhaps Brad really had gotten to them, perhaps it just felt louder to me because I was inside her at the time, but our post-coital panting was not interrupted by Mom and Dad bursting through the door. After a few minutes, I sat up and just appreciated the vision in front of me—the hottest girl I’d ever met; my sister; naked, covered in sweat, panting, a giant smile on her face, utterly satisfied, recovering from just having been fucked for the first time—by me, her little brother. I leaned over and slowly licked from her nipple to her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed blissfully.

“Again?”

I’m not going to lie; I could have gone again. And again, and again, until morning. I could have gone until we both collapsed from exhaustion, or until our parents literally had to pull us apart. But it was at this moment that I realized the sudden power in my hands.

My sister not only enjoyed my cock inside of her—it was becoming obvious, she was literally addicted. Now that she’d gone once, the floodgates would be open. I suddenly had no fear—there was nothing I could ask that she wouldn’t do. My rapidly re-hardening cock held all the power.

I stood up.

“Anne,” I said, my voice more powerful than I ever remembered it being. “You’re not going on that camp next week.”

Before her eyes had a chance to glaze over, I continued.

“You won’t be seeing Brad again.”

She sat up and started to object, but I interrupted.

“You’ll ring him tomorrow—no, this morning, and you’ll leave a message. You’ll tell him that you know what he’s been doing and that you don’t ever want to see him again. You’ll tell him that if he comes near you, or your family again, you’ll go to the police. And if he ever approaches you, you’ll run away and call me immediately. Do you understand?”

I’ll never get sick of that sight, my sister with her big, beautiful blue eyes, kneeling topless in front of me, submissively nodding.

“Now come over here and clean me off.”

Her eyes lit up at the very prospect of licking the sweat and juices off of my cock, and my eyes rolled back as she began.

* * *

Brad left town without issue. I supervised the phone call the next morning, making sure that Anne got her whole spiel out without letting him get a word in. I closed the line as soon as he started to reply—Anne’s eyes had already begun to glaze over at the sound of his voice, but as soon as we hung up she was fine.

He didn’t fight it; the more I think about it, the more I reckon he was meddling with something he didn’t fully understand, and when it backfired he just found a way to get back to the city, or at least to a new town where no one knew what he was up to.

Since that night, Anne and I were inseparable. We fucked at night, we fucked in the morning, and if I had a free period at school we’d fuck in the bathroom. We got so good at it that all we needed was ten minutes and a closed-off area. Anne’s enthusiasm never waned, and her technique never stopped improving. One time she followed me into the bathroom at church—no one suspected a thing when we returned with slightly ruffled clothing and hair.

After all, who would suspect the leader of the Chastity Club, the most beloved, most holy, most wholesome girl in town of taking her brother into the bathroom and bouncing up and down on his cock for a quarter of an hour?

You’d think I’d tire of her, but her passion never got old, and her array of underwear and costumes (to this day I can’t work out when she gets the time to make costumes) meant that being with her was always fresh, always as good as that first time.

I struggled with it morally, for a while, but any time I got close to rationalizing ending it, Anne would come into my room, and one look into those blue eyes, one look at that body that was so clearly built for sex, and I was back in. It would have been a waste to let a body like that be used for anything else, y’know?

I remember the first time I took her in her behind—it was only a few weeks after our first time, after Brad left our life forever. Playing with her anus had become a regular part of our sex life (like I said, I don’t know if she was programmed to love it or if she’s just naturally sensitive) and we’d just finished fucking when she said she wanted to go again.

She was naked and on all fours, in an empty classroom (this was during one of my free periods at school). We’d just done it doggy style, and even though she’d cum twice, she was hungry for more.

Insatiable Annie, I sometimes called her.

I was slowly finger-fucking her while I got hard again, and one of my hands had wandered to her butt. I loved watching the little faces she makes when I play with both her holes at once, and I was about ready to go again when she said it.

“Oh, Brodie...I wish that was your cock.”

I stopped in shock. I guess by that stage nothing should have been able to faze me, but my sister, naked in school and asking me to fuck her in the ass...well, yeah, that’ll do it.

“Are...are you serious?”

She turned around and looked at me, those big blue eyes staring at me, and gave me a look like I was an idiot. She may have been a submissive cock-obsessed slut, but yeah, she was still my sister. When was she not serious?

My cock was still wet with a combination of our juices, and so all I needed to do was line it up with her entrance, and slowly slide it in. (and boy, do I mean slowly.)

I’ve got her diary here, I’ll show you what she wrote that day:

* * *

I thought I was going to be burst, or split in two. I know I’m the luckiest girl in the world just to be able to SEE my brother’s cock, let alone pleasure it on a daily basis, and I know that it’s all about his pleasure and not mine, but dear diary, I couldn’t help but moan ‘lower’, over and over again.

Brodie, the perfect man that he is, went as slowly as he could. I know that my body is designed to send guys wild, I know that God made it to drive them to uncontrollable lust, and so I was so _proud_ that he was able to restrain himself from just fucking me hard and focusing on his own pleasure...but wow. Talk about intense.

Two things stopped it from being unbearable: the knowledge that I was finally using every hole that I have, every part of my body to please Brodie...and the pleasure.

I can’t even describe it...it was more than just a knowledge that I was serving my purpose, it was this intense feeling of joy. I don’t know if I have a second clit in my posterior, or if it was just the knowledge that what I was doing was so wrong, so sinful, but I think I may have cum just from the feeling of him entering me, it was that good. A different kind of orgasm than I normally had.

So we’re there in the middle of the classroom, and I can tell that my little bro is close. I’ve gotten good at reading him—I think it’s important for a sex-slave like me to know when their Master is going to cum. It helps us serve them better, and hey—that’s what we’re here for!

Maybe it’s the knowledge that he’s fucking his sister in the ass, maybe it’s the knowledge that he’s fucking his sister in the ass in the middle of a school-day, or maybe it’s the knowledge that he can fuck his sister whenever, however he wants...but he was quicker than normal (not that I’m complaining!) and soon he’s filling my ass up with his glorious, glorious cum.

I love my brother.

* * *

So yeah. I wish that was the end of the story, but...well, about two months later, the inevitable happen. I guess in New York they teach it differently, so Brad thought he’d never have to worry about informing my sister, or maybe he’d just planned to use condoms, but here in the Bible Belt, our sexual education is pretty lacking.

I’d noticed that Anne’s breasts were slightly bigger, puffier, but I never claimed to be an expert on breasts. For all I knew, that was just what happened after a few months of being played with daily.

Mom and Dad were surprisingly calm about it. Like I said, it happened to most of the graduating class each year. No one ever suspected me; it was never openly discussed, but the unspoken consensus was that it was Brad’s fault, and probably why he skipped town.

My parents fuss over her; if she wants a glass of water, it’s in her hand before she’s finished the sentence. If she wants half an hour alone with her brother, they don’t question it. Me, I try to take care of her in my own way; by making sure she’s never deprived of her obsession for too long.

What else can a good brother do?

I’d write more, but Anne’s calling me. She’s about seven months along now—her belly is massive, and she loves it when I rub some ‘freshly-squeezed cum’, as she calls it, onto her. She says it helps with the stretching. Her tits were big already, but now they’re just impossibly huge, and I’m pretty sure that they’re going to start leaking milk soon—like I need another excuse to suck on them!

Anne was horny before, but now…god damn. Insatiable Annie doesn’t even start to cover it. I feel like we’ve broken some kind of record with how often we fuck. She says that it’s good for the baby, the protein and all that, y’know? She made me promise that I wouldn’t let her go to bed without having filled every one of her holes, not a single night the whole time she’s pregnant.

I kind of like my cock-hungry sister being all knocked up with my baby, and Anne doesn’t like contraception for ‘religious reasons’ (someone needs to teach that girl about irony) so after the baby’s born, we’re probably going to get straight to making another one.

It’s gonna be pretty hard to blame Brad for that one.


End file.
