Chapter 1

It all happened because my little sister blackmailed me.

Well, I guess it really all happened because our parents demanded that, when she went to college, she room with me in the house I was renting while I attended the same school.

Whatever caused it, I was stuck with her and she wanted to spread her wings, something our parents definitely didn’t approve of.

Part of it was my fault. I was the wild one, the one who got in trouble all the time, the one the cops brought home when I was caught doing a variety of things that would normally have been chargeable offenses, except my dad was a city councilman.

So I got special treatment. I didn’t have to pay for my behavioral misdeeds.

It might have been better if I would have had to pay the price a few times. I might have learned a valuable lesson before things got out of control.

This is not to say I didn’t learn anything in my misspent youth. I did. That’s why, once I left home and was on my own at college, I calmed down a lot. Part of that was the result of the ultimatum my father gave me: “Get in trouble and your college funds are cut off.” And this wasn’t a three strikes kind of ultimatum. If I got in trouble even once, he was done with me.

I might have been wild, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew that, without a degree of some kind, my job options would be severely limited. I’d either end up in manual labor, or asking people if they wanted fries with that. So I behaved myself. I was in my second year of college and these days I got drunk occasionally, but didn’t let it get me in trouble, like it used to.

The problem was that when Ozmerelda, my sister, joined me at Wharburton College, she still acted like she had when I left home, and she viewed me as the same brother from back then. That meant she thought she had the upper hand, because she knew I was on thin ice with Dad.

That’s why she blackmailed me. So she could do what she wanted to, instead of be protected, which is what my father demanded I do.

What did she blackmail me about? Well, I was dating a girl named Shantelle, who was a member of a race my father loathed. He’s a dyed in the wool racist. Shantelle and I happened to be in bed when my sister arrived, unannounced, to move in. She walked into the house like she owned it and when she found me on top of Shantelle, her words were: “Oh, isn’t Daddy going to love this! You, in bed with a nigger!”

Shantelle wasn’t impressed, even when Oz apologized, which is why we’re no longer dating.

And Oz, which is what I call Ozmerelda, immediately started holding what she’d seen over my head.

At first all she did was drink and skip classes. She didn’t like them, she said. They were boring, she said. “You can’t make me go because if you do I’ll tell Daddy you were fucking a black girl,” she said.

Basically she was still spoiled. She’d been spoiled all her life. She was a daddy’s girl and she milked that for everything she could.

What got her (and most likely me) in trouble was that she demanded she get to go to one of my frat parties. I told her it was a bad idea, but she ignored me. I also told her not to drink, which she also ignored. And when I couldn’t see her in the throng, and went looking for her, I opened a door to hear her voice yell, “Get off me! Stop!” I went in and found her naked, struggling and yelling “No!” and “Stop! Let me go!” at the top of her lungs as some asshole tried to push his dick in her.

He’d ripped both her top and her skirt during the “foreplay” portion of the event. He was one of those guys who says things like, “They all say no, but they don’t really mean it. It’s all for show.”

Anyway, there I was with a guy beaten bloody on the floor and my naked, hysterical sister on the bed. Outside the room there were fifty or so people and the last thing I needed was for them to see any of this.

The one break I got was that the room belonged to Travis Hicks, a frat brother, who was back home for a funeral. So I had some time to think of what to do next.

I decided that priority number one was to get her covered up. An examination of her clothes suggested they were now rags, and would no longer work as clothing. Even her panties had been ripped. When I looked at them I suspected she had abrasions on her skin but I didn’t look for them.

Oz is eighteen but looks like a fifteen-year-old who is trying to look twenty-one. If that’s confusing, think of one of the fifteen-year-old contestants in one of the singing competitions on the major networks. They’re girls, but they can sing, and by the time they get to the quarterfinals the makeup people have them looking entirely adult.

Oz looks young, partly because she’s only five-three, but she’s shapely out the ass. She’s had big boobs since she was fourteen, and her hips finally caught up with her top. She’s short but she’s got a big attitude. For a few seconds I admired her body, but then I chastised myself and started rooting through Travis’s wardrobe. I found a stash of panties (interesting!) on the floor of the wardrobe. I suspected they were “used” but I tossed a pair to Oz and told her to put them on. I picked a long-sleeve shirt in a western design. Travis came from a small town in western Kansas, and had done 4-H and rodeos all his life. Everything he had was of western design. The shirt was huge on her, but that was okay because it looked kind of like a dress. I found a belt and tried to cinch it around her waist, but it was a foot and a half too long so I discarded it. Her shoes were salvageable and she put them on.

She was saying, “I’m sorry, Bobby!” for maybe the tenth time and had calmed down a lot.

“You got two choices,” I said. “Either you go out the window or you go out through the crowd. You’re covered up, but it’s obviously just a shirt and all you have on under it are panties.”

She went to the window and looked out. We were on the second story, but there was the roof of a garage below the window, about five feet down. She turned and said, “What about him?” She pointed at mister rapist.

“I don’t give a fuck about him,” I said. “I give a fuck about getting you out of here without it becoming a major incident. If you want me to, though, I’ll call the campus cops to come arrest him. It’s possible they’ll arrest me, too, since I might have broken his jaw. You’ll have to make a statement and maybe go to court.”

“I don’t want that,” she said. “But I don’t want him to die, either. You beat the shit out of him, Bobby!”

“He was raping my little sister,” I said. “What else should I have done?”

“I’m not mad at you,” she said. “I just don’t want him to die.”

I went to the guy and felt his neck.

“He’s got a strong pulse. I’m sure he won’t die. We need to get out of here before somebody else comes in and finds this.”

“I don’t want people staring at me. I must look a mess.”

She did. Her makeup had run when she was crying and her hair was all mussed. Her eyes were still red and a little swollen. I noticed a bruise on her cheek.

“Did he hit you?” I asked.

“Just once,” she said, looking away.

“It sounds like you’re defending him,” I said.

“I sort of teased him,” she admitted.

“Am I wrong, here?” I asked. “Do you like rough sex or something? Did I interrupt a date?”

“No!” she yipped. “I don’t like any kind of sex! I’m a virgin, Bobby!”

“Okay, so what I learned in school was that No means No. You shouldn’t have teased him if you weren’t going to go further, but I heard you yelling no when I came in.”

“I’m sorry!” she wailed.

I saw tears starting to well up in her eyes again. The last thing I needed was for her to melt down.

“We’ll talk about it later,” I said. “Window!” I decided verbally. “I’ll help you get down off the roof.”

It was cold outside, it being an October night. She said she was cold. I didn’t feel all that sorry for her. I also didn’t want to go find her coat.

To make matters worse, while I was helping her down off the roof of the garage, she sort of fell into my arms. My right hand went up inside Travis’s shirt and I got a handful of soft, warm breast flesh. I felt her nipple and everything by the time I extricated my hand.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

She said nothing.

By the time we got home she was shivering violently. She was still an emotional wreck, or at least very emotional. I didn’t know what to do so I just ran the bathtub full of hot water and put her in it. For reasons I still don’t understand, I took Travis’s shirt off of her rather than leaving her to do that herself. She removed the panties and threw them in the trash can. She got in the tub and leaned back, closing her eyes.

I stared at her tits for maybe eight or nine seconds. I admit it. They’re fine looking tits, after all. Then I left. I thought she’d be okay.

I found out different when, an hour later, while I was reading an online textbook, she came and stood in my doorway.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” she asked, her voice small. “I’m scared.”

“Nobody’s going to hurt you here,” I said.

“I know. Please? Just for tonight?”

“One condition,” I said.

“Anything,” she replied.

“No more of this blackmail bullshit.”

“Okay,” she said immediately.

And that’s why I let my little sister get in bed with me and spend the night.

She started out on her own side of the bed. I could still smell the alcohol on her breath so I knew she had a snoot full. Apparently being raped sobers one up, but once the adrenaline’s gone the alcohol takes over again.

“Thank you,” she said in her Minnie Mouse voice.

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you, Bobby.”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way when you sober up,” I said. “Now, go to sleep.”

We fell asleep on our separate sides of the bed, too. It was a queen bed I’d found on the curb at the end of the previous school year. I rented the house in the off season because I got a better deal. I furnished it with cast off furniture, the bed included. The mattress was a little lumpy and without a sheet on it looked like it had been used to test stains for lab examinations. But it was a bed and it was big enough that we didn’t have to touch.

I woke up some time later with a warm girl plastered to my body. She’d rolled over and put both a leg and an arm over me. I had on my skivvies, which was a nod to her because I usually slept nude. When she came to bed she had on a T shirt and (I presumed) panties. I found out now there were no panties. That’s because her wet pussy was glued to my thigh.

If that wasn’t bad enough, she was humping me in her sleep.

I lay there, trying to imagine the dream she was having after what had just happened to her. Whatever it was, it was causing her to glide her puss along my thigh for about two inches, before relaxing, at which time it slid back the other way. Her upper body was limp. It was her stomach and hips that were moving. Suffice to say it was bizarre.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I got an erection hard enough to write home about.

I lay there, trying to figure out why I got a stiffy for my own sister. It was obviously for her, because I wasn’t thinking about any other girl.

I knew I didn’t want to fuck her. The recent incident might not be preventing her from having juicy dreams, but I was still horrified at how close she’d come to being permanently damaged by that asshole. And yes, I appreciated her attributes while I was being horrified, but that’s just a guy thing. It’s not intentional. It just happens. But I wasn’t in the mood for sex. Not with my sister. Not with anybody at that moment.

So why did I have a boner?

I realized she did feel kind of good, all warm and draped over me like that. Her soft breaths were tickling my neck.

I chalked it up to Mother Nature and tried to go back to sleep.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get to sleep with your sister rubbing her pussy on your leg?

So I tried to ease out of bed, so as not to disturb her and I went to my bathroom, where I gripped my schlong and jerked it like crazy.

I was almost there when the door opened and there was Oz, rubbing her eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Then, “Oh. How can you do that after I almost got raped?!”

“Calm down,” I said. “This isn’t about you.” I stood there gripping my little buddy and felt stupid. “It’s because of you, but not about you,” I tried.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Bobby?”

“You rolled up against me in your sleep, and you were ... um ... rubbing against me. Against my thigh.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she asked again.

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Blackmailed Brother

Lubrican

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