Chapter 10

“I did it,” my brother said softly. “It worked ... last night, I was able to cum.”

My jaw dropped. We’d done it!! I had done it! I’d finally been able to make my brother cum!

Well, sort of.

Eighteen hours earlier, I’d been in a club. The floor was sticky, the music was loud, and everywhere I looked there were scantily-clad women, dressed in outfits that were ... well, not dissimilar to mine.

My six-inch heels drew attention to the black skirt I was wearing, which covered no more than a few inches of flesh - it started just below my navel, and finished an inch or two below my pussy. My boobs were barely contained in a snakeskin top that wrapped around my neck, barely held together by two thin pieces of fabric criss-crossing along my back. The skirt was split up the side, and I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

I was on the prowl.

As I stalked my way across the dance floor, the music made my head throb, and I would sporadically be overwhelmed with doubt. What am I doing here? Why am I dressed like this in public? I’m not even a lesbian. Before the thoughts could get a hold of me, however, all I needed to do was shut my eyes and there it was. My brother’s thick, smooth cock - his hand, stroking it up and down, as his beautiful deep voice gave me calm, firm instructions.

I’m here to pick up, I reminded myself. I’m here to find a sexy girl, take her home, and fuck her until the break of dawn. My purpose reinvigorated, I would open my eyes and continue my search.

I’d never been to a lesbian bar before. “Bar” probably isn’t the right term - alcohol was being served, but the centre of focus was the dance floor. Dozens of women, each sluttier than the last were dancing with each other, rubbing their bodies against each other, reveling in how hot, how sexy they looked.

More than anything, I wanted to be one of those women.

A friend of a friend had told me about this place - on Saturday nights, men were banned from the premises, and as a result the women felt like they could go all-out. Without any fear of the male gaze (“fear” wasn’t a word that made sense to me in that context ... but I suppose that’s why I’m not a lesbian) they would come in as scantily-clad as they liked, knowing that there was no one here to look at them but other lesbians.

Other lesbians ... and me.

It didn’t take me long to attract some attention. I’ve always been proud of my body, but since I devoted myself entirely to serving my brother’s needs, I knew that it had to be in the best possible shape. Every morning, I remove every follicle of hair below the neck, and then spend at least an hour at the gym, hitting the treadmill.

When I first started going, I would wear my standard gym gear - track pants and a sweater - but as soon as my brother learned where I was spending my mornings, he insisted that I wear a bit less. He said that he liked the idea of other men looking at me, lusting after me, wanting me ... and knowing that he was the only one who got to take advantage of my body.

After that, it was nothing but sports bras, yoga pants, and occasionally even gym shorts. I loved it - getting to show off the curves that only my brother gets to touch.

I’ve even had a few people recognize me from my site. If it were up to me, I’d have rewarded them with a quickie ... but I knew my brother wouldn’t like that.

And that was all that mattered.

Every day, as soon as I came home from the gym, my brother would fuck me. He enjoyed taking my sore, sweaty body - my slippery flesh, the raw smell of perspiration. I’d always cum a few times, but even after going through a condom or two, my brother never did.

It was the gym that had put the idea into his head - one day, I’d noticed a girl staring at me. She was tall, slender ... very attractive. After fucking me into a gooey mush, my brother liked me to tell him all the sexual fantasies I’d had while working out. It turned him on, knowing that I wanted to fuck other men, but never would - that my body was his to control.

And so I’d told her about the girl. I hadn’t seriously considered it, but the thought had crossed my mind that she might recognize me from my porn site, and that to thank her for her patronage, I should hook up with her or something.

Like I said, it wasn’t something I’d thought about too much - I really have no attraction to other women. I never have, really. But for some reason, the idea really appealed to my brother - he started jerking off at the idea, and as I tried to turn him on by going into more detail, he flipped me over and slipped his cock deep into my ass.

I was sweaty, but hadn’t lubed up yet, and so there was actually quite a lot of pain as he started to fuck me, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. This idea had really turned him on, and there was a chance that he might even be able to cum - what sort of an ungrateful sister would I be if I ruined that for him?

So instead I just lay there, sharing more and more details of a lesbian fantasy I didn’t even have, as my brother pounded my tight asshole. As he continued fucking me, I started to actually find the pain a bit of a turn-on, and before long I was cumming, my buttocks clenching around his cock as I came.

Without permission, but after a gym session, my brother never said anything. He’d just punish me for it later.

Even as my orgasm overcame me, my story never slowed down. It stuttered slightly as my body began to wrack with pleasure, but I kept on making up details, drawing from the extensive collection of lesbian films I’d found on my brother’s collection. Every minute I wasn’t directly pleasing him, I was researching what turned him on, or taking care of my body, or trying to come up with new ways I could get him powerfully aroused.

Soon he bellowed, and his cock began to soften. He withdrew from between my pert ass-cheeks, and I looked at him hopefully.

He shook his head. Every time he shook his head, it was like someone ripped my heart out - it was just a constant reminder that I wasn’t good enough, that no matter how much I tried, my body wasn’t hot enough to get my brother off.

It reminded me that I was a failure ... and inspired me to try harder.

As I walked to the shower naked, sweat dripping from my anus, my mind was awhir. Sure, my brother didn’t like the idea of me fucking another guy ... but maybe a girl was different? Maybe he wouldn’t have a problem with that - especially if I didn’t get any joy from it, if it was purely for his pleasure?

After I washed myself off, applied deodorant, lube and perfume (I’ve been trying slightly different perfumes for the last few weeks, making notes on exactly which ones turn him on the most) I marched straight to my brother’s room, knelt down in front of him, and proposed the idea.

He loved it - he loved it so much that he started roughly fucking my throat, before turning me over and sneezing loudly. I sneeze when I see a particularly bright light - when my brother’s really turned on, he sometimes sneezes all over me, and I can feel it hitting my skin, in a few short, warm spurts. I find it more than a little weird, but I’d never tell him that - with his condition, he’s already got enough to worry about.

And so the next time I saw the girl at the gym, I’d pulled her aside.

“Hannah,” I’d introduced myself, and when she’d given her name, I’d leaned in for a kiss.

As I thought, she was a lesbian - it turned out later that she didn’t even know about my site, just found me extremely attractive. We made out for a few minutes, and then exchanged numbers. When I got home from the gym that day, my brother fucked me harder than I could ever remember - he insisted on me repeating every detail of it, how her lips had felt against mine, what had been running through my head.

I considered making up stories about how hot I found it, but I knew that I couldn’t lie to my brother ... I can never lie to my brother.

... and so I’d told him the truth, that I’d found the whole thing sort of boring, but that the other girl (whose name I’d already forgotten) had seemed really into it.

When I called the girl, it ended up being a wrong number - maybe fake, or maybe she’d just gotten it wrong - and I never saw her at the gym again. But the seed had been planted, and so just a few days later, there I was in the club, dressed to kill.

One or two girls had looked at me with familiar looks on their faces, which made me blush - I had no idea that lesbians looked at porn, let alone my porn - but I made sure to avoid them. I wanted someone who wanted me for me, not so they could bang someone famous.

On the dance floor, I again lost myself in the music. For a few minutes, I was dancing, and I felt ... normal. Well, not normal. Extremely strange, really. For a few minutes, I forgot that I was my brother’s 24-hour slut, that everything I did and thought was to get him off. For a few minutes, I was just a “normal” girl, enjoying the music, dancing ... It was really weird. Nice, but at the same time ... dangerous. I didn’t have a purpose. I didn’t have a simple, singular purpose.