﻿Just for Fun
by Pan



Genre: Incest
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08 20:29:33
Updated: 2020-01-13 19:40:22
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:37:55
Rating: Some Sex
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,212
Publisher: storiesonline.net
Story URL: https://storiesonline.net/s/21633
Author URL: https://storiesonline.net/a/pan
Summary: Emily shares her new incest fetish with her girlfriend, and the pair of lesbians begin to get obsessed by new fantasies.





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3



	Chapter 1

We were watching **Friends** when Emily first brought it up.

“Wouldn’t it be hot if I had a brother?”

“ ... what?”

I tilted my head to the side, and glanced over at her. She had a sort of faraway look in her eyes.

“If I had a brother. Wouldn’t that be hot?”

“I have a brother,” I pointed out. “That’s not hot.”

“Yeah, but that’s ... I dunno, that’s real. I’m talking fantasy stuff. Like if I had a hot brother, and he was always lusting after us.”

“Us? Don’t drag me into this.”

“C’mon Izzy, you know what I mean. You like it when people look at us.”

It was true. I did, but not nearly as much as Emily. You don’t see many lesbians in the law profession, and the two of us ... stand out. We’re both blonde. I’m tall and busty, she’s short and cute, and when we dress to impress, it can turn a lot of heads.

“Maybe that’s enough **Friends** for today. I don’t want to catch you writing fanfiction about Ross and Monica.”

“Ew,” Emily laughed. “That’s not what I’m talking about at all. Not a real brother, just ... I dunno. There’s something hot about it. It was just a thought.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the show, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized ... she was sort of onto something.

I’m what they call a ‘gold star’ lesbian. Never been with a man - never even kissed one, actually. I figured out that I was a lesbian when I was young, dated women all through high-school, and then met Emily in my second year of law school - her third. Now I’m on my way to partnership, and she’s part of the in-house counsel for a major charity. (I won’t say which one, but you’ve definitely heard of it).

Unlike me, Emily is bi. I guess it made sense that she’d picked a brother. Being lusted at by a guy, I know that’s a turn-on for her.

But why did the idea appeal to **me** so much?

I guess because a ‘brother’ is just so much more likely to ogle us. Like, if it was a little sister (Emily didn’t actually **say** ‘little brother’, but I assumed that was what she meant) who wanted to see our tits ... she’d have her own. If she wanted to know how we got each other off ... look, it’s not much of a leap from masturbation.

But a **brother**. To guys, tits are basically magic. They don’t have ‘em, and without experience, they don’t know what they look or feel like.

How women get off? They’re just as likely to know how to break the speed of light.

So I had to admit: it **would** be hot if Emily had a brother, obsessively lusting after us. Trying to catch a peek at us kissing, listening at the door as we made love, staring wide-eyed as we held hands, or casually put an arm around the other’s waist ... I paused the TV show (which is something I **never** do) and jumped Emily, mentally picturing her fictional brother in the next room, jerking off at the idea of his **sister** making love to another girl... 

* * *

The ‘brother’ returned a few nights later. We were watching **Friends** again, actually.

Emily, to my great surprise, had never seen the show before meeting me.

She’d revealed this during dinner with my family. Rookie mistake - my younger brother Justin had spent the rest of the night giving her shit about it, making references she didn’t understand, asking if she’d heard of these other rare shows, **The Simpsons** and **Seinfeld**.

After the fiftieth ‘why don’t you marry Ross’ joke flew straight over my girlfriend’s head, we’d all agreed that this oversight needed to be fixed. He’d given us the season 1 of **Friends** on a USB key. After we tore through it in a month, he gave us a copy of the next season as well.

We were up to season 3 (The One With the Tiny T-shirt) when Emily brought it up again.

“If I had a brother,” she said slowly, and my eyes lit up. More than a few times in the past week, I’d found my mind wandering to my girlfriend’s strange fantasy.

I leaned in, far too keen to hear what she’d come up with now.

“If I had a brother ... we could tease him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes glistening with mischief. “We could touch each other more, while he was in the room.”

“Mmmm...”

“Just casual stuff. I could stroke your arm, your leg. You could hold my neck.”

“Mmm-hmm...”

“Maybe I’d sit closer to you.”

“I like that...”

“I know you do.”

Emily opened her mouth, but before she could continue the hypothetical, her lips were met with my own.

Two minutes later, her beautiful mouth was between my thighs, as I vividly pictured the teasing we could partake in.

* * *

“What if,” I panted, pulling my lips from Emily’s for a second, “we ‘accidentally’ left the door open one day when we were making love?”

It had been two weeks. Every night, Emily and I would watch a few episodes of **Friends** , and then our conversation would inevitably drift to ‘her brother’, and what we could do to turn him on.

The sex was electric.

I’d never realized that I had a fetish. I liked tits, I guess, and lingerie ... but beyond that, I was a fairly vanilla kind of lesbian. I’d tried spanking a few times - it was fun, but it didn’t particularly do anything for me.

Emily moaned in response. I hadn’t even noticed my hand making its way between her legs.

“The sound of our lovemaking, carrying into the hallway. He can probably hear it from his room.”

“Yesss...”

“He sneaks into the hallway, planning on looking through the lock on our door.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Emily panted.

“That’s right. He’s got a clear view...”

“Oh!!”

As Emily climaxed around my fingers, I smiled down at her. It was so **nice** , finding a fantasy that we could both share.

It had never been an issue, but I’d always been aware of Emily’s bisexuality. I guess part of me had been worried that she missed cock, or that I could never truly fulfill her.

I’ve done enough reading to know that this is a common fear when a lesbian dates someone who’s bi, so I’d done what I could to put it out of my mind. But the frustration had always been there - the idea that I couldn’t **understand**. To me, guys were ... well, they were gross.

The entire gender had just never held any appeal.

But this ‘brother’ fantasy? Suddenly ... I got it.

Take a cock, for example. The idea of an erection typically left me cold ... but when it was attached to Emily’s hypothetical brother... **god** that turned me on. That imaginary cock, hard because of me, because of us. Because of who we were.

And even though I’d never before had even an inkling of attraction to a penis, just the thought of this imaginary penis was enough to get me completely soaked. Watching Emily’s ‘brother’ pump it, spying on us, stroking his hardness, cumming for us... 

“Yessss,” I moaned, pulling Emily’s head between my legs. I’d already cum twice that night, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

* * *

Five nights later, it was Emily who took it to the next level.

“What if we **let** him watch.”

“Go on...” I said, not completely following. We’d gotten so turned on by whispering into each other’s ears, we hadn’t even turned the TV off. Ross was about to meet my girlfriend’s namesake - I’d been excited to show her that episode, but what we were now discussing felt **so** much more important.

“We sit him down, and we ... perform...”

Emily’s thumb was working magic on my clit, and I gasped as her words filled my ears.

“We tell him that this is for him ... it’s all for him. He could be right here, in the room right now, watching us as we...”

“ **Fuck**.” My whole body pulsed as I came.

“You like that idea?”

“Mmmm.” I smiled. “What else could we show him?”

* * *

Emily had been away for almost seventy-two hours. In the past, that had never been a problem - her work flew her across the country four or five times a year.

But since we’d discovered our new, mutual fetish, we had barely gone twelve consecutive hours without getting each other off.

Emily was the love of my life, the best partner I’d ever had. But until now, I’d never **needed** her before.

She’d taken her laptop, and a copy of the fifth season of **Friends**. We’d continued our tradition of watching an episode together as we Skyped each night ... though we always stopped paying attention to the show after a few minutes.

“What if we gave him remote access,” Emily panted. “Remote access - oh! - to our screens.”

I love Emily, but she sometimes mixes boring computer jargon into our dirty talk.

“What do you mean?”

“He can see what we see...” she hissed. “He can - yes! - see our screens...”

“Mmmm,” I said, picturing it.

There was a silence, and I knew that it was my turn to contribute.

I hesitated.

The time difference had meant that Emily was at work when I woke up, and so I’d been spending a lot of time pleasuring myself in the mornings.

And as I had, my fantasies had started to ... drift.

It had started with me thinking about his cock. I could count the number of real-life cocks I’d seen on one hand, but I had a weirdly clear image of the one I was imagining for Emily’s ‘brother’. I could see him stroking it, pleasuring himself while watching us.

I could picture it shooting as we writhed in front of him, our bodies tangled for his pleasure.

His cum, landing on our lesbian tryst.

Just the idea of semen had been enough to make me gag just a few months ago, but now ... I hungered for it. I craved it.

And so my fantasies had shifted.

“What if,” I said reluctantly. “What if ... I seduced him.”

There was a brief silence. If it wasn’t for the buzzing of Emily’s vibrator, I would have been worried we’d gotten disconnected.

“What do you mean?” she asked, and I could tell she wasn’t mad. Her voice was soft, deep with lust.

“I mean...”

The buzzing pulsed, telling me that Emily was rubbing her favorite toy back and forth across her clit.

“I mean, he’s not **my** brother. Nothing wrong with me helping him out, is there?”

“Oh, god...”

“Maybe after we’ve performed for him, I’ll turn. I’ll say ‘hey, can I do something for you there?’”

“Yess...”

“Maybe I’ll suck him. Maybe I’ll suck his cock until he cums down my throat.”

“Fuck, yes. Oh god, Isabel ... would you do that?”

“Yes,” I moaned, one hand between my legs. “God, yes, Emily. **Fuck**.”

* * *

“Tell me how he’s fucking you,” Emily begged. She’d been back for almost a month now, and she kept on revisiting the fantasy I’d revealed to her. “Tell me.”

“I’m on all fours,” I moaned, and Emily’s eyes rolled back in her head. “I’m on all fours, and he’s behind me. He’s kneeling. He’s so hard. Can you see it, Emily?”

“I can see it,” she said, her hand moving faster between her legs. “I’m on the bed. I’m watching. I’m watching my baby brother fuck my girlfriend.”

“He slowly slips his cock into me.”

“What does it feel like?”

“It’s big. Hard. It feels so good, Emily.”

“God, yes. Tell me more.”

“It’s more satisfying than I could ever imagine.”

“You love his cock, don’t you?”

“I love it.”

“You think he’s better than me, don’t you?”

I didn’t even hesitate. I could feel my orgasm approaching.

“He’s so much better than you. I can’t believe I ever thought that you’d be enough to satisfy me. I need a man, Emily. I need a man inside me.”

“Yesss!”

She came, and my orgasm wasn’t far behind. In the background, Chandler finally proposed to Monica.

I don’t think Emily even noticed.

* * *

“You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I shivered. I could **feel** the long cock of Emily’s brother filling me up.

Not really, of course. His cock was as fictional as he was. But Emily was putting on a deep voice and pounding me with a strap-on. Her brother would presumably sound a little like her, so it wasn’t hard to pretend.

“You’re my little cockslut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I’m yours. I belong to you.”

“Again.”

“I belong to you,” I repeated, my eyes rolling back into my head. I was starting to see stars. “My body is yours. I’m your property.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m your fuckslut. Your hole to cum in. I’m nothing but a set of holes. Sir, oh god, yes. Permission to cum, please?”

“Permission granted.”

I came, so hard that I nearly blacked out.

* * *

My filters were all long gone. If an erotic thought entered my head, I’d say it without hesitation.

Bed with Emily was a safe space. We’d pushed so many boundaries, discovered so much more about ourselves - there was nothing we couldn’t say, couldn’t suggest.

And yet, I was still shocked by her words.

“What if we shared you,” she said.

“What?”

My head was filled with what I imagined cock smelled like, and it took me a second to adjust.

“My brother and I. What if we ... shared you.”

I’d never been interested in threesomes before. God knows we’d had offers. And not just from sleazy men, either - a number of our lesbian pals had more than hinted they’d be happy to jump in bed with Emily and I.

I’d never been interested.

Until now.

“Yes,” I moaned, after a long pause. “I want to feel you both inside me at once.”

“What if...”

Now it was Emily’s turn to hesitate.

“What if you watched as he fucked me?”

My mouth went dry.

Incest.

Real incest.

Real, fictional incest.

“Yes,” I rasped. “I ... I ... yes. Please. **Please**.”

The Rembrandts sang their familiar refrain as the next episode started. It was the one with the tea leaves.

* * *

Every night was different. Sometimes Emily would whisper her brother’s fantasies into my ears, tell me she was following his orders. Tell me that her job was to let me know what he wanted of me. I would cum again and again, my lover’s fingers deep inside me, my mind being filled with impossible fantasies.

Sometimes she’d tie her hair back, lower her voice, put on a strap-on, and dominate me. As a lesbian, I’d never even been remotely submissive - as a slave to her brother, I was a dripping mess at the snap of her fingers. I once spent forty minutes fellating the strap-on, Emily insulting and denigrating me as I did. The floor grew wet with my drool, my jaw was totally exhausted, but I never hesitated. I obeyed.

Sometimes, we’d film ourselves fucking. Every move we made was for the camera. We’d pretend that Emily’s brother was away on a school trip, and without his personal sluts there to serve him, we had to provide sexual stimulation however we could.

Sometimes, I’d be wearing the strap-on. Fucking Emily. Reminding her that her that she existed for one simple purpose: to serve her brother. That’s why we’d found each other, she’d once moaned; so there would be two of us to pleasure his cock. I thought about that a lot.

Sometimes, after a particularly long day, we’d just collapse into bed and finger ourselves to sleep, staring at the other with a dozy smile, knowing that we were both getting off to the same thoughts.

Only two things were consistent: every night, we’d get off thinking about our new favorite fantasy.

And every night, we’d watch at least one episode of our new favorite show.

* * *

Phoebe’s wedding was on.

I remember, because Ross and Monica weren’t on-screen at the same time very much. Whenever Ross and Monica were in a scene together, at least a part of me would be watching the show. I couldn’t help but imagine them sneaking off, fucking, Ross using his sister’s body for his pleasure. He should own her. He should fuck her every hole, whenever he has a chance. She should thank him for doing so.

Phoebe’s wedding was on. Emily and I were whispering fantasies back and forth. It must have been a weekend, because we’d been getting each other off for hours. Hours that felt like days.

“Your tits are so perfect,” Emily was whispering. “They’re so big, for my brother. That’s why you have big tits, to turn my brother on.”

I nodded. It was true. My tits were big, to turn her brother on.

“Your mouth was made for sucking cock,” she said. I loved sucking cock. I’d never done it, but I knew that I loved it. It was what I was best at. It was what I was made for.

It turned me on more than anything.

“You’re being used by my brother,” Emily continued. “He’s pounding into you, using your wet snatch to stimulate his cock.”

“That’s all I’m good for,” I muttered, and she smiled. It was so lovely to have a partner who shared your turn-ons.

“That’s all you’re good for,” she said.

If I hadn’t been so hazy with arousal, I probably would have noticed the weird tone that crept into her voice. But I was so focused on my own pleasure, I didn’t even notice her slow down, her voice get shaky.

“I...”

She hesitated. I continued to rub her slick pussy, enjoying the fresh wave of lubrication that seemingly came from nowhere.

“I’m not there,” she said, and that got my attention.

“Oh?”

“My brother is fucking your wet cunt, but I’m not there.”

“Where are you?” I asked. It didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream.

“I’m not there,” she said again, and my fingers slowed down.

“Emily?”

“I’m somewhere else,” she moaned, and my eyes finally focused. She looked like she was about to cum. “I’m at your house.”

“Why are you at my house?”

“I’m in your bedroom,” she said, grabbing my hand and forcing me to rub her clit. “I’m in your bedroom, being used ... by **your** brother.”


	Chapter 2

Emily and I had fought before, but never like this.

We were both lawyers, not that it helped. Some people have this idea that lawyers always argue like they’re in court, presenting evidence and rationally posing objections.

When Emily and I fight, we get **mean**. I recognize it in myself - I’ll snipe at her, never letting her finish a point. In turn, she’ll change the subject ... typically onto some slight I’d performed in the last few days. I’ll get mad at her for changing the topic, she’ll accuse ME of not dealing with whatever it was she just randomly brought up ... it isn’t productive, and it isn’t pleasant.

This wasn’t like that.

After Emily’s gasping admission, she’d cum, hard. She’d even squirted a little, which she’d only done maybe a dozen times while we’d been together.

I’d frozen.

She couldn’t have said what I’d thought she’d just said. Could she?

No.

Justin. My brother.

That would be ... Have you ever thrown up after eating jello? It’s such an strange feeling - on one hand, you’re puking. No one likes puking.

On the other hand, you can ... you can **taste** it. Just a little. And even though you’re throwing up, it’s still jello. Everyone likes jello. Even though it’s coming through your throat the wrong way, it’s still delicious.

My brother and Emily.

That would be ... I shuddered, while at the same time my clit throbbed.

My brother, fucking Emily.

I could see it.

I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to never think about it, ever.

But I could.

My clit throbbed again, and I turned my attention back to the screen.

When Emily recovered from her powerful orgasm, she did the same, and we spent the rest of the night silently watching **Friends**.

* * *

We didn’t talk about it.

We didn’t talk about much.

Not just that night. For days.

We still loved each other, we still lived with each other, but ... Emily had crossed a line. I think even she knew that.

Each night, we’d make awkward small talk, cuddle up and watch an episode of Friends, get each other off once or twice, and drift off to sleep.

Emily’s ‘brother’ disappeared. Not from our minds, I suspect, but definitely from our play.

We fell back on old habits ... or tried to, at least. Our sex life had been so **alive** for the last few months; going back to what we’d been doing before felt like exhuming a corpse.

We would just rub each other, the silence punctuated only by our gasps and grunts of pleasure.

I don’t know what Emily thought about. I didn’t want to know. But I thought about her fictional brother.

I thought about him using my body for his pleasure. I thought about him using **her** body for his pleasure. Incest had become such a central part of my fantasies, I couldn’t get off without thinking about it. Her brother, bending her over and fucking her. Roughly using her throat, not caring about her pleasure. Making the two of us get each other off, just to turn him on.

Incest.

As the week stretched on, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but wonder ... Was Emily picturing **my** brother?

Was Emily imagining Justin, my real-life brother, getting hard at the sight of her?

Of **us**?

At the sight of me, his sister?

Was Emily getting off while thinking about my brother getting off while thinking about me?

I didn’t ask her. I couldn’t ask her.

I didn’t ask, because I already knew the answer.

The camera slowly panned around the apartment, ending on the iconic front door. The show faded to black. The audience applauded.

We’d done it. I’d filled my girlfriend’s cultural gap. If we hadn’t already deleted the files, I’d suggest we go back to season one and start again.

We could probably get Jus- ... We could probably get my br- ... We could probably get another copy. If we asked my-... 

“Thanks,” Emily said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I really enjoyed that show.”

“Me too,” I said with a genuine smile. “It’s better than I remember.”

“We should thank your brother for getting those files for me.”

I couldn’t move. My mouth felt like it had frozen into a manic grin, as I pictured it. Emily, thanking my brother. Thanking him with her body. Deep-throating him. Letting him cum inside her. Making me lick it out afterwards.

No.

“Of course,” I replied, after way too long. My voice was so strained, I barely recognized it.

“Isabel...” Emily said, putting her hand on my neck. “It’s...”

“What?” I whispered. “What is it?”

“Don’t be like that. It’s just...”

“What?”

“It’s just a fetish.”

“What is?” I squeaked.

A fiery look came into Emily’s eyes.

“You know.” she said firmly, moving one hand slowly down my body. I was naked. Had I been naked when the episode had begun?

“What?” I repeated, unable to move, unable to think.

“It’s just a fetish,” she said again, her hand tracing a familiar path down my skin.

“Is it?”

“Of course it is,” she whispered, breaking out into a grin when she discovered how wet I was. “It’s just for fun.”

“Emily...”

“We aren’t going to do anything for real,” she said, enjoying my tightness. “We’re just fooling around.”

“Are we?” I asked again, too stunned to put more than a few words together.

“Of course,” she said, stroking my clit. “Now ... why don’t you tell me how I should thank your brother?”

There was a long silence, as Emily masterfully toyed with me. She knew exactly how to turn me on; slowly, savagely, mercilessly.

Finally, I relented.

“You should go into his room,” I rasped, “and show him the body you’ve been hiding from him for far too long...”

* * *

“See?” Emily said with a giggle. “That wasn’t weird, was it?”

“I guess not,” I reluctantly admitted. “But we only saw him for like, five minutes.”

“Right. But it was fine. You’re just a pair of normal siblings.”

“Are we?” I asked, rolling my eyes. We both laughed.

There was a comfortable silence, and Emily surprised me by breaking it.

“Sorry,” she said, and I reached out for her hands.

“For what?”

“I dunno. I feel like I ... pushed it?”

“You did,” I said, after a brief pause. “But ... it’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s totally fine. We were just fooling around, right?”

“Of course,” she laughed. “It was just ... I dunno. It was just a thing.”

“Yeah.”

“But still,” Emily continued. “I feel like I was ... out of control for a while there. Like I just couldn’t let go of the thoughts.”

“We did get a bit obsessive,” I nodded. “I’m just glad it’s calmed down so much lately.”

“Yeah.”

There was another pause.

“Yeah.”

I turned my attention to the TV. We’d really enjoyed the habit of watching TV together every night, and had finally bitten the bullet and picked up Netflix. **Orange is the New Black** failed to accurately represent lesbianism **or** the legal system, but it had successfully captured our interest each night for the two months.

“What are we up to, the final episode?”

“I think so. What do you want to watch next?”

“What did Justin give us?”

“ **Episodes** ,” Emily said, hunting around her bag for the USB stick. “He said it’s by one of the creators of **Friends** , and it stars ... Joey? As himself?”

“Sure,” I said. “We can check that out next.”

* * *

“You’re his slut,” I growled, pulling Emily’s hair. She whimpered with pleasure. “Say it.”

“I’m his slut,” she pleaded. I felt like my entire body was throbbing.

I felt alive.

“I’m his slut,” she repeated. “I’m his slut, I’m his slut, I’m his slut.”

“Cum for him,” I said, and spat in her face, surprising even myself. I’ve never been a spitter. It’s always seemed a bit gross, to be honest.

In that moment, it felt right.

Emily’s entire body shook with orgasm around my fingers. She came once, twice, three times.

I smiled at her flushed face. The sound of typing played over trumpet music in the background.

* * *

We didn’t really talk about it.

Maybe that should have worried me, but ... in a sense, it sort of felt like the key. We’d unlocked a wonderful world, reached new sexual heights. Every glance between us was electric; every time I touched Emily’s skin, we would both gasp at the sensation.

The trick, it seemed, was not to talk about it.

When we weren’t in the bedroom, we’d non-verbally tease each other. I’d run my hand down my girlfriend’s back, she’d reach around and squeeze my ass. Sometimes she’d pull my mouth to hers, and we’d kiss, groping each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

I don’t know what she was thinking whenever we did this. We never talked about it.

But then at night, as Matt LeBlanc and the two British characters got themselves in and out of scrapes, we’d start to talk.

Not converse, not really. Just ... talk.

She’d whisper dirty thoughts into my ear. I’d whisper dirty thoughts into hers.

Before the end of each episode, one or both of us would be cumming, again and again.

“He’s watching us,” Emily would gasp. “He’s watching his own sister getting another woman off.”

I couldn’t believe how wet that idea got me.

“You know that once we’re done, I’m going to fuck him.”

**Fuck him,** I silently echoed.

“Once we’re done in here, I’m going to fuck your brother. Your brother is going to cum deep inside me. He’s going to bring me pleasure like I’ve never felt before.”

**I want it,** I thought, my eyes rolling back in my head. **I want it so much.**

“I’m his slut,” she would his. “I’m Justin’s personal little slut.”

“Yes you are,” I’d finally gasp, as I came. “Yes...”

My entire body would buck with pleasure, my brother’s face floating through my head.

And then ... we wouldn’t talk about it.

* * *

“Tell me again how it happens,” Emily said. I could barely hear her over the sound of her vibrator and the show.

She was on another of her trips. It had only been forty-eight hours, but my entire body ached for her.

“You go into his room,” I moaned, one hand around my own throat, one hand frantically rubbing between my legs.

“What am I wearing?’

“Lingerie. You’re wearing red lingerie.”

“Which set?”

“A new set. You bought it just for him.”

“Yes...”

“You knock on his door, and he tells you to enter.”

“Orders.”

“Yes,” I panted. “Yes, he **orders** you. You will obey.”

“I will obey.”

“You will obey my brother.”

“I will obey your brother.”

I swallowed. It took me a second to remember what we were talking about. The image of my girlfriend, obeying my brother’s every command, submissively serving him ... It was hard to concentrate.

“You enter his room.”

“How?”

My entire body twitched as I realized the answer.

“You crawl. You crawl into my brother’s room, on your hands and knees in front of your master.”

“Master...”

“Yes. **Master**.”

Emily repeated the word several times.

“He sees you come in, and he smiles.”

“Oh **god**.”

I paused. Even over the internet, I could tell that Emily was dangerously close to orgasm, just at the idea of my brother smiling at her.

She couldn’t cum. Not yet. I was enjoying myself too much.

“He knows why you’re there.”

“How?”

“Because you were built for him.”

“I was...”

“You were built for his pleasure.”

“Oh, god...”

“Your body exists for my brother’s pleasure. You exist for my brother’s pleasure. You’re my brother’s personal slut. Say it.”

“I’m ... I’m...”

The buzzing grew louder.

“ **Say it** ,” I insisted.

“I’m your brother’s personal slut.”

“You’re Justin’s personal slut.”

“I’m Justin’s personal slut.”

“You’re a lesbian slut for my brother.”

“Yesss...”

I shut my eyes and joined Emily in orgasm, picturing my brother cumming onto her obedient, smiling face.

* * *

“What are **you** doing,” Emily gasped.

I froze.

“I’m...”

She stared at me, her eyes dark with lust. I’d been halfway through describing her giving my brother a blowjob.

“I’m...”

I knew what she wanted me to say. It had been lurking behind our every interaction for weeks now.

But I couldn’t. I **couldn’t**.

“I’m in the room next door,” I whispered. “I’m fucking **your** brother*.”

“I don’t have a brother,” she said softly, firmly, staring into my eyes. “I’m an only child.”

The room suddenly felt very small. Even though **Episodes** was on at low volume, I could feel the actors’ words filling my head, filling my thoughts. I felt trapped.

“I...”

“Where are you,” Emily repeated insistently, moving her hand to my throat. “Where are you, and what are you doing?”

“I’m ... I’m...”

“You’re watching us,” she said.

“No...”

“ **Yes,** “ she hissed. “You’re in the room, watching me give your brother head. Say it.”

I couldn’t.

“ **Say it**.”

“I’m ... I’m watching you.”

Emily moaned at my admission. She moved her hand back between her legs. I watched, transfixed, as she played with her clit.

“You’re using your tongue on his head,” I continued, stumbling over the words. “He’s grabbing your hair, and... -”

“What are **you** doing, * she gasped once more.

“Oh, god...”

My clit involuntarily throbbed.

“I’m touching myself.”

“More.”

“I’m rubbing myself,” I panted. “I’m rubbing myself watching you go down on my brother.”

“I belong to him.”

“You belong to him.”

“Continue.”

“I’m ... I’m getting off, watching my brother use you.”

“More.”

“I’m making myself cum. I’m watching my girlfriend be used for her one true purpose, and I’m ... I’m watching. I’m watching, and I’m getting off, and...”

My eyes shut as I felt an orgasm approaching. To my delight and horror, Emily picked up where I’d left off.

“Your brother is watching you get off. As he fucks my mouth, he’s watching his own sister cum.”

**Yes.**

“He’s cumming into my body, but you’re the one who’s getting him off. You’re the one who’s making him cum. He’s watching your huge tits bounce, he’s looking at your face.

“Justin is imagining fucking you. He’s cumming into my mouth as he imagines fucking his own sister. I’m his slut. I’m ... I’m...”

Her words faded away as she came.

* * *

“Justin would love that outfit on you,” Emily said, distracting me from the TV.

“Stop it,” I protested weakly. She just smiled, and leaned in closer.

“It’s true,” she whispered. As my girlfriend nibbled on my ear, I melted.

I was wearing lingerie. We both were. We’d always liked it, but recently ... it was like wearing anything else just felt **wrong**. Even under our stuffy work clothes, there was something delicious about knowing I was wearing a lacy outfit that showed off my body.

“If your brother saw you in that,” - I groaned, involuntarily - “he’d get so hard, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes...” I whispered, my eyes closed.

“Your body would turn him on, wouldn’t it?”

“Mm-hm...”

“His sister’s body would get him so worked up. Your huge tits, your long blonde hair, that **ass**...”

I knew it was wrong.

“He’s going to be so hard, so worked up.”

“Emily...”

“What are we going to do about it?”

I groaned, and tried to pull her mouth to mine. But she remained tantalizingly out of reach, a familiar smirk on her face.

“What are we going to do about your poor, horny brother?”

“You need to help him,” I gasped.

“How?”

“Fuck him. Please. Please, Emily ... fuck my brother.”

“You want me to fuck your brother?”

“I need it. Please.”

“Even though you’re the one who got him so worked up?”

“Yessss...”

“But what if I’m out of town?”

My eyelids fluttered as I pictured it. Justin, so horny, so hard. Emily, his personal fucktoy, away on a conference.

There was only one way we could... 

“No,” I gasped. “I can’t. Please...”

As if registering my distress for the first time, my girlfriend leaned in.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her smile audible. “It’s just a fetish. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Emily...”

“It’s just for fun, remember?”

I thought about for a moment, as the final episode of the season played.

She was right. It was just ... it didn’t mean anything.

“You want to suck his cock, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I panted. I was too turned on to fight it any more.

“Say it.”

“I want to suck my brother’s cock.”

“You were made to suck your brother’s cock, weren’t you?”

My eyes rolled back in my head as I came. It was true. I was made to suck my brother’s cock.

* * *

“We go into his room,” I moaned, one hand around my own throat, one hand frantically rubbing between my legs.

“What are we wearing?”

“Lingerie. We’re wearing red, matching lingerie.”

“We’re a pair of matching lesbian sluts, aren’t we?”

“Yess...”

“We’re a pair of slaves, aren’t we?”

“We’re a pair of slaves.”

I liked the way the words tasted in my mouth.

“Why do we exist?”

“To serve my brother.”

“What next?”

“We’re wearing lingerie, and we go into his room.”

“How?”

“We crawl, on our hands and knees.”

“Yess...”

“He sees us come in, and he smiles. He knows why we’re there.”

“How?”

“Because we were built for him.”

“Yess...”

“We were built for my brother’s pleasure.”

“We share his cock.”

“We share his cock.”

“We were born to be his sluts.”

“We were born to be his sluts.”

“Our life is dedicated to his service.”

“Our life is dedicated to his service.”

“He owns us.”

“He ... oh, god yes.”

“Say it.”

“He owns us. He owns us, he owns us, he owns us, he **owns** us.”

“If he wants to fuck you, what will you do?”

“I will fuck him.”

“Say it.”

“I’ll fuck my brother.”

“You want it, don’t you?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want to fuck my brother. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything...”

“Cum for him. Cum for your brother.”

“Oh god, Emily, Justin, **yes**...”


	Chapter 3

“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, her eyes dancing.

“I’m not worried,” I hissed. “I’m just ... nervous.”

We’d crossed a line.

I knew we’d crossed a line, but I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t want to stop.

It was too ... electric.

“What if my parents notice?”

“They’re not going to notice,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “You’re still their baby girl, remember?”

I nodded. She was right. I knew she was right.

But still... 

“If you’re really worried,” Emily said, leaning forward and whispering into my ear. “Just remember why we’re doing this...”

“ **Justin** ,” I sighed, and suddenly all the tension left my body.

* * *

This fantasy, this shared incest fantasy we’d been having; it had taken over our sex life. It had elevated it.

Sex had always been good, but ... god, now it was **something else**.

It was hard to say whose idea it had been. When it came to sex, it felt more and more like we were one person.

One person, dedicated to a single goal.

We went back to my parents’ for Christmas every year. It was fun - the five of us (six, if Justin brought someone) opening presents, eating turkey. Holiday stuff.

Somehow, this annual tradition had wormed its way into our fantasies.

“What do you want to give Justin this year?” Emily hissed into my ear.

“Everything,” I answered without hesitation.

“Be more specific, slut.”

“Me. My body. My tits, my ass, my dripping cunt. It’s all for him.”

“What else?”

“You. I give him my girlfriend. You belong to him now.”

Emily moaned into my ear. I rubbed myself harder.

“What **else**?”

“My soul. My mind. My servitude.”

“Good...”

After we’d both cum, we’d continued watching **Brooklyn Nine-Nine** \- another excellent recommendation from my brother. And that was when the idea had surfaced.

Like I said, I don’t know who came up with it, but we both latched onto the thought immediately.

“We couldn’t, could we?”

“We could...”

“But we couldn’t **really**.”

It had always been just ... a fantasy. Something to think about while we played with each other. I knew that we weren’t really my brother’s dedicated sex-slaves. We were lesbians, and he was ... he was my brother.

It was all just pretend.

“Could we?”

The suggestion was simple. Harmless, really.

Over Christmas, we just ... tease my brother a little.

He probably wouldn’t even notice. To Justin, I was just his boring older sister, and Emily was just my lesbian partner.

But just the **idea** of doing what we’d talked about for so long, what we’d cum so many times while discussing.

Just the idea made me throb.

* * *

“Do you think he noticed?”

“He definitely noticed.”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“Would you?”

I rolled over, and flipped open the laptop. If anyone walked past my room, I wanted them to hear the TV show, not the conversation we were having.

The black captain faced off against Andy Samberg in the background as I rolled back to Emily.

“ ... that was so fucking hot.”

“You’re telling me!”

It hadn’t been much. Not really.

Winter in Galena is normally a pretty cold affair. But when everyone is inside, by the fire, it can be toasty-warm.

So we figured it wouldn’t be **that** obvious if we were to ... y’know, strip down a little. Just to our underpants. Just while we were near the fire.

I genuinely don’t think my parents registered what we were doing. If they did, they didn’t care. They put up with my goth years, muddled past my ‘just came out of the closet’ slutty years, they worried their way through my rebellious years ... now that I was a successful lawyer in a long-term relationship, I think I could have walked around nude without them blinking an eye.

But Justin... 

God, **Justin**.

“Fuck me,” I whispered to my girlfriend. Her eyes lit up, and she nodded.

Since we’d planned to wear less clothing this weekend, we had a little more space in the suitcase for toys.

Emily pulled out the strap-on, grabbed my hair, and growled into my ear.

“Tease me, will you?”

“Please...”

“Tease your little brother, hmm? There’s only one way to treat a sister-slut like you...”

“Do it,” I gasped.

As the show dipped to an ad-break, Emily and I both glanced at the door at the same time.

It was closed. Of course it was closed. But we were both imagining leaving it open... 

* * *

“Next year, we go further.”

“ **Yes.** “

December had been over for almost a month, but we were still talking about it.

We’d only spent three days with my parents - with **Justin** \- but we’d made them count.

On the first night, as planned, we’d stripped down to our underwear. Not our new, Justin-bought lingerie; some old stuff. Stuff that wouldn’t make anyone suspicious.

After all, this was just for fun. We didn’t want to permanently affect my relationship with my parents.

With **Justin**.

The second night, we’d worn a similar set ... but Emily had casually draped herself on top of me.

Both of us had spent the night acutely aware of our skin touching, the sight that Justin must have noticed - two blonde bombshells, their legs intertwined.

For him.

It was all for him.

Not that he knew that, of course.

The third night, we’d pushed it. My parents had bought some schnapps, and without saying a word, Emily and I had both agreed to act **much** more intoxicated than we were.

Half a bottle in, we were on the couch, making out. We were clothed, this time, but it was such a thrill. My lips on her lips, my hands on her skin, both of us knowing - **knowing** \- that we were being watched.

That Justin - **Justin** \- was staring at us, his lesbian older sister, her partner. Watching us touch, caress each other. Watching us perform.

Perform for him.

We’d relived that night so many times in the weeks after, burning through the rest of **Brooklyn Nine-Nine** in the process. At Emily’s insistence, we’d gotten a new copy of **Friends** from Justin - **Justin** \- and we were starting the mighty rewatch.

I say ‘rewatch’ - we would put the show on, fall into each other’s arms, and forget that it was on.

“Next year, we make out in lingerie.”

“ **Further** ,” Emily moaned.

“We ‘lose’ our bras, and spend a day topless.”

“ **More**...”

“We invite Charlotte” - another lesbian friend of ours - “and the three of us make out by the fire...”

“ **Yes**...”

* * *

“We should call him,” Emily said. I could barely hear her over her vibrator.

She was on another trip. It had only been forty-eight hours, but I was already climbing the walls. I wanted to feel her, touch her, taste her. I wanted her in my arms, her voice in my head.

Well, Skype helped with the last of those.

“Call him?”

“Yeah. Pause the show. Let’s call him.”

My cunt pulsed at the idea.

“Emily,” I gasped. “We can’t.”

“Come on,” she said. I could tell that she was close. “Call him. Don’t you want to hear his voice while we cum?”

“Emily, **no**.”

“Oh, he won’t have any idea. I know you can cum silently - I’ve seen you do it.”

It was true. I didn’t come out to my parents until I was eighteen. I’d had a solid four years of practicing stealthy sex, getting off during what my parents thought had been innocent girly sleep-overs.

“No ... that’s ... it’s wrong.”

“I know,” she moaned. “God, isn’t it wrong?”

I knew that as soon as my girlfriend came, she’d realize what a terrible idea it was. She’d call the whole thing off.

I knew that if I told her Justin wanted her to cum, if she were doing it for my brother, she would.

So why wasn’t I saying anything?

Matt LeBlanc’s face briefly distracted me, and when I tuned back in, Emily was huffing and puffing, and I realized that she’d just cum.

Good thing. Otherwise I would have ... I would have... 

I would have called my brother.

My own orgasm overcame me at the thought.

* * *

“Do you think Justin would fuck me?”

“Of course he’d fuck you,” I gasped, trying to push Emily’s head back between my legs. “Please ... don’t stop...”

“I know he’d fuck **you** ,” she said, and I opened my eyes.

Emily was talking about Justin fucking me. This was important.

I turned the show’s volume down slightly.

“Of course he’d fuck me,” I said, slightly dazed. “What are we talking about?”

“Think about it,” Emily said, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Your role is to be his fucktoy, right?”

“Yesss...”

“You’re his slut.”

“Mmm...”

“You exist to get him hard, to get him off.”

I nodded fervently.

“You’re just a set of wet holes for his cock.”

“I am.”

“ **And** you’re his sister. As if your perfect body wasn’t enough, there’s the taboo of your relationship.”

“What’s your point?”

“So what am **I** for?”

I loved being able to talk so candidly about this with Emily. We both knew that none of it was real, that it was just a fetish we shared.

But part of the fantasy was getting into it, treating it as though it **was** real. Shaping our lives around it.

And that meant discussing every detail. That was part of the fun.

“He’ll be **able** to fuck you, of course.”

“Of course,” Emily agreed, without hesitation. She’d slipped up beside me on the bed. I loved being able to smell my pussy on her lips.

Justin would love that as well.

“But I think I’m his slut, and you’re his slave.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’ll be, like, the maid. Cleaning, taking care of the house.”

“Taking care of Justin’s property...” Emily murmured.

“Like me.”

“Like you,” she smiled, and moved her lips to mine.

I could taste myself on her mouth.

* * *

“What if we ‘accidentally’ sent him a photo? Or a video?”

My cunt clenched at the thought, but I shook my head.

“We can’t,” I said reluctantly. “It is not our role to decide when he takes pleasure from our body.”

Emily nodded. The two of us were walking in tandem on the treadmills that we’d had installed in the TV room. We’d decided that we were going to get in better shape.

For Justin.

“Did we do the wrong thing at Christmas?”

I considered the question.

“No,” I replied thoughtfully. “No, that was us showing off. We should **always** show off our bodies around Justin.”

“We should always show off our bodies around Justin,” Emily repeated.

“If he wants to look, he can, but we’re not forcing anything upon him.”

Emily went white at the thought.

“We would never...”

“I know,” I said comfortingly. “We would never do anything Justin didn’t want.”

We continued to walk until the end of the episode, not talking, just enjoying the show.

The show, and the nipple clamps we were both wearing.

* * *

“I am Justin’s perfect sex toy,” we chanted in unison, staring into each other’s eyes, hands roaming each other’s bodies.

“I am Justin’s devoted servant,” Emily said.

“I am Justin’s sister slut,” I replied.

**Friends** was on in the background, but we weren’t watching it.

We were too busy.

“I am owned,” we both said. “I am a piece of property. I belong to Justin.”

Emily had read somewhere that repeating a mantra several times a day was a good way to reinforce important ideas, to make the brain truly accept them on the deepest possible lesson.

We couldn’t think of anything more important.

“All I am is Justin’s. He owns my mind, my body, and my soul.”

That was my favorite part. Emily always ran her hands across my nipples when we got to it. I liked to give her ass a firm squeeze in return.

“I will dedicate everything I am and everything I have to pleasing him, now and forever.”

I tried to let my mind go blank, to let the words truly sink in, but it was hard. This was so much **fun**. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was that Emily shared this weird, special kink with me.

“I exist to sheath his cock,” I said.

“I exist to serve,” Emily replied.

“Submission brings me pleasure,” we both said simultaneously.

My whole body was throbbing. We only let ourselves cum once we’d finished the complete mantra - Pavlovian training. Emily believed it would further shape us to fulfill my brother’s every desire.

To that end, I would have done anything.

“I am obedience. I am slavery. I am slut.”

The mantra went for five minutes. We’d spent several days writing it.

“I am cunt, mouth, and ass. I exist to be filled by Justin.”

Emily nodded at my words.

If we said it slowly, letting each word truly sink in, it went for ten minutes.

“I am a drooling slut. I love to be fucked. My life is dedicated to Justin.”

I wanted to cry with pleasure. Every words I spoke brought me closer to perfection.

“Slavery is my purpose, and my purpose is to serve.”

As she spoke, I slipped three fingers into Emily’s wetness. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t slow down, not even for a second.

“I am submission,” we said at once. “I am pleasure. I am arousal.”

We took a deep breath, and nodded at each other, prepared for the final words.

“Justin is my life.”

With that, we came. With that, we moved one step closer to fulfilling our true purpose.

* * *

My eyes were glassy. My knees were weak.

But still, I obeyed.

“Tell me how it happens,” Emily hissed in my ear.

“We crawl into his room,” I said, making sure to get it word-perfect. It had to be perfect. “We offer ourselves as his slaves.”

It had to be perfect.

“When?”

“When the time is right.”

“How do we know when the time is right?”

“We’ll know. Justin will let us know.”

“Good girl,” Emily said, and kissed me.

I shuddered. I was so close. I was SO close.

“No...” I groaned, and Emily pulled back.

She knew exactly how far she could go.

“You will obey,” she said sternly.

“I will obey.”

The moment passed, and I felt like I could breathe again.

“What do we offer him?”

“Everything,” I panted. “Oh god, Emily, please...”

“No!”

“So ... close...”

Again, she pulled back.

“Be specific.”

“Can’t.” My brain was foggy. I was nothing but a pair of tits. Tits. My brother’s. I was a pair of tits for my brother.

“You will obey.”

“I will obey...”

“What do we offer him?”

“Me,” I gasped. “My tits. My ... my pussy. My ass.”

“What else?”

“My obedience. My slavery.”

“You’re forgetting something.”

“My orgasm.” I was twitching now. “Please...”

“Your orgasm belongs to Master.”

“Yes...”

“Say it.”

“My org- ... my orgasm belongs ... belongs to Master.”

“You will not cum without his direct permission.”

“I will not cum without his direct permission.”

“Good girl,” Emily smiled down at me, before slapping me twice.

I’d been edging for almost three hours.

I hadn’t cum in weeks.

Emily and I had decided almost a month ago - our role was to please and serve Master. He owned us.

He owned our orgasms.

We would not cum again, not until we were truly Justin’s.

**Justin’s**.

The thought alone was almost enough to make me cum.

It was just a fantasy, of course. It was just for fun, a way of spicing up our sex life.

And yet, it had been almost a month since either of us had cum. We spent hours each day playing with each other, hours each day playing with ourselves. We used toys, we talked dirty.

We were filthy sluts who enjoyed each other’s bodies. But we didn’t cum.

We wouldn’t cum.

Not until Justin said we could.

And since it was only a fantasy ... maybe Justin never would.

Maybe I’d never cum again.

I moaned at the thought, as the end credits began to roll.

“Another episode, slut?” Emily whispered.

“Yes, slave.”

We wrapped our arms around each other as the next episode began.

* * *

We were on our fifteenth rewatch of **Friends** when Emily brought it up.

We didn’t really go out much any more. We went to work, we came home, we watched **Friends** , and we prepared ourselves for Justin. Mind, body, and soul.

The mantra was burned permanently into my brain. Even at work, I’d sometimes find myself muttering it under my breath. It had replaced my thoughts.

It had replaced my thoughts.

My free will was gone. In its place, servitude. Obedience.

Devotion.

I hadn’t cum in almost six months. My sex life had never been better. Emily and I were wholly focused on our task. We never spoke of anything else unless we absolutely had to.

Our relationship had never been stronger.

It had purpose. Our lives had purpose. We weren’t lesbians, not really. We were playthings.

We were Justin’s playthings.

We weren’t a couple, not really. We spent time together to turn Master on. We spent time together to train each other, to get the other prepared. To make each other wet.

For Master.

“It’s time,” Emily said, and I gasped. My entire head was thrumming - the show’s volume was at max, although I wasn’t watching. Chandler’s sarcastic retort filled my brain.

I wanted to cum, but I knew I wouldn’t. I had become an expert at getting myself to the edge, then pulling back for **just** long enough.

I’d become an expert at doing the same to Emily.

We didn’t talk much. We said our mantra, we sometimes whispered fantasies into each other’s ears, reminded ourselves of why we existed.

But more and more, we sat silently, touching each other, tasting each other, getting the other riled up. For Master.

Pliable. Wet.

Ready.

“It’s time,” I agreed.

We groomed each other. Slowly. Deliberately. We’d talked about it a thousand thousand times, and imagined it ten times as often.

I chose the perfect set of lingerie for Emily. She chose the perfect set of lingerie for me.

We put black trenchcoats on and began to walk towards the front door, our steps in perfect unison. We were a perfect pair.

Justin’s.

Master’s.

It was time.

I turned the TV off as we left. It was the one with all the cheesecakes.


End file.
