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, which every boy in town probably thinks is a complete waste, because 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 time, useful at other times. 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 Brad was up to at the time. I knew him, of course — in a town this small, when someone new arrives it’s 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, so less than a week after Brad moved here, the two were dating.

I was trying to work it out later, and it must have been about 3 weeks through the 6-week program that I flashed my sister. 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, her eyes widened, and she just stared at my member, I wasn’t sure how to take it.

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

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

Other than a passing thought of “wow, how weird” and a brief rumination as to whether this was her way of getting me back, I didn’t really think much of it.

Meanwhile, she was continuing to see Brad every second night. 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, y’know. There are lots of nasty things you can say about my sister, but she’s really serious about this Chastity Club. She really wants- well, wanted- to go to Liberty University a virgin, find her soulmate, and all that.)

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 didn’t believe this at first, I thought it was just so weird — he was caught hypnotising girls.

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

I dunno why they didn’t think he’d try it out here, or maybe they just didn’t care, as long as it was away from his parents. They’re big-shot lawyers out there, or doctors, or something like that.

But every second night, Brad was taking my sister somewhere quiet and dark, and just hypnotising the heck out of her. I still don’t really know much about it, so maybe he only knew the program he was using, 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 she saw, the next penis my sister saw, she would become obsessed with it. She would want to fuck and suck and do everything with. She would masturbate thinking about it, do anything to get to play with it, and 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.

It was probably a pretty safe bet. Before I flashed her, I don’t think my sister had EVER seen a penis, and Brad’s plan was obviously to finish the program, and then get her hooked on his and enjoy the benefits. I can’t blame him — every guy in town probably thought about my sister when they jerked off, and probably some of the girls as well.

3 weeks into his 6-week program, he had no idea that her kid brother would flash her in the hallway, and make her programming take hold early.

She didn’t do anything for the next few days, and 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 one night, and sat on my bed.

“Hey.” I said. Like I mentioned, I didn’t really think anything was up. We weren’t close close but we weren’t at each other’s throats or anything. Coming in for a chat wasn’t anything strange. She closed the door, which wasn’t necessarily normal, but could just have meant that she wanted to talk about our parents.

“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 realised 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. You’ve got to remember that I didn’t know about Brad’s hypnosis. Even though she was only halfway through the program, Anne had already spent two sleepless, confused nights, replaying that moment in the hall again and again.

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

Suddenly it seemed obvious. Anne’s Chastity Club were all about not only stopping people from having sex, but also from masturbating. Lusting after a woman is as bad as having an affair and all that. She’d 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 but 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 focussed again.

“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 one of her friends 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 5 hours sleep in the last 48.

I probably could have talked her into pretty much anything if I’d known, 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 ... 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 say it in case I was wrong.

“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 used such language 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 she wouldn’t try too hard.

Knowing that the person asking you to do something will get it done whether you help or not should make you less interested, but for some reason it doesn’t.

Anyway, it worked on me. It was one of the weirdest moments of my life — my hyper-Christian, sex-before-marriage-is-as-bad-as-murder, so virginial she made Mary look like a slut ... my confident, gorgeous older sister had just asked me to masturbate in front of her, and she even sounded nervous about it.

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 come for the first time, thinking about me. And then six more times since.

Awkwardly, I lowered my pyjama pants. I was considering asking if she was sure, but the raptured look on her face answered that 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 heavily and staring at my member, me not quite sure what to do. I’d jerked off before, of course, 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 realised how lucky her future husband was going to be, getting to have her every night.

It was a pretty sexy situation, so I was hard already, but when my sister’s tongue unconsciously flicked across her lips, I swear I got even harder.

“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.

After five minutes of silence, the only noise being her breathing and me ... well, jerking off, I grunted “Watch out”, and she jumped backwards as I started to come.

She watched, entranced, as I shot over my stomach and chest (I’d had the forethought to unbutton my pyjama top.) Later in the week she’d have some questions, but that first night, she just sat and watched, drinking it all in (but not literally, y’know?)

After I was done, I grabbed some tissues, cleaned it up, 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 shown me.

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 when you have less than fifty people, social groups spring up, and we didn’t really have any need to talk to each other.

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, well after our bedtimes, but 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 curiousity.

“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 tired, it was like she was slipping in and out of drowsiness. 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 — had other things on my mind.

She sat on the end of the bed again. Despite having gone twice that evening already (and once that morning, if we’re being honest) 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. I wasn’t complaining at all, but her behaviour was weirding me out a bit, and I wanted to make sure that what happened was her choice, that I wasn’t forcing her into anything.

After a full minute had passed, she continued.

“I was just wondering if I could, y’know. Watch you again.” In response to my 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 her innocent looks. If my penis was waking up when she entered the room, it was completely alert and ready to go after hearing her swear.

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

“Well, yeah.” She paused and thought. Subconsciously she knew 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. Would you mind?”

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 favour, 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 came in, made 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, 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’m pretty sure that playing with your brother’s cock must cross some kind of line.

“Are you sure?” I asked, and then realised 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 realising. She shushed me, worriedly, and we both broke out in the giggles again.

“How am I doing?” she asked, as our muffled laughter 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 arrogant and stuff. So I decided that I wasn’t going to add to that, and 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 poing, 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. It played in the back of my mind, while the rest of me just relaxed and enjoyed what remains one of the greatest handjobs 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, and she nodded seriously, apologised, and left the room.

This repeated itself for a few days — she’d let herself in, jerk me off, ask for feedback, and go back to her room. I laughed when a few months later she showed me a notebook that she’d kept. Every piece of advice I gave her, she had faithfully written down and memorised.

Saturday night, she took it another step forward. Again, at the time I believed her justifications, but some part of my mind was aware that /something/ was going on.

“It makes such a mess, doesn’t it?”

This was the first time she’d ever spoken while jerking me off. Normally she was completely focussed on my cock, treating it like it was the center of her universe (which, honestly, was pretty amazing just in itself.)

I wasn’t really listening. I never told her this, but my sister’s handjobs were the greatest thing I’d ever experienced. Better than eating my favourite meal while watching my favourite film with my favourite 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 come, 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 come, 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 handjob with vigour. She’d somehow picked up this trick where she’d use two hands, 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 handjob while naked and 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 handjob 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.” She hadn’t thanked me since that first night. I just nodded, 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 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 catfood, 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. Still without a word, she leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, just a peck, and 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.

2:

It didn’t take long for nightly handjobs to turn into nightly blowjobs. And it shouldn’t have surprised me, but Anne was amazing. Admittedly I didn’t have anything to compare it to, but sheer passion alone must have put her ahead of the field.

She didn’t just suck a cock, she worshipped it. Every part of her body somehow became involved, and she made you feel like your pleasure was what gave her pleasure. It never got samey, either — each night was a whole different experience.

The fact that she was gorgeous, Christian and my sister probably helped as well, but anyone could have given those blowjobs and I would have been impressed.

And all of this without me seeing a single inch of her skin (except what I’d been seeing all my life.) It was starting to drive me wild — I was getting nightly blowjobs from the most sexy, gorgeous girl in the world, and I hadn’t seen anything that the average man on the street couldn’t see.

That wasn’t the only thing that was annoying me, either. Mom and Dad, for obvious reasons, didn’t know about what we were doing, and so they were still coming and waking me up at 6, sometimes letting me sleep in until 6:30. As my stamina grew, our nightly sessions were getting longer, and on nights when she was going out with Brad, I wasn’t getting to sleep until 1am.

My relationship with my sister had never been one where I could insist on anything. She had the power, she always had, and even though she was on her knees for me every night, it’s hard to break familiar patterns.

Had I insisted, or threatened to cut her off, she almost certainly would have done what I said. But doing anything to risk the end of the blowjobs would have been ridiculous, so I never got the nerve up to ask her about maybe taking off some clothes.

But I did ask her about Brad.

On nights when she didn’t see Brad, we went to bed about nine, she’d sneak in around ten, and I could be asleep by ten forty-five, eleven o’clock tops. If all nights were like that, it would be fine.

So I asked if she really needed to see Brad. She insisted she did. She didn’t even offer a reason, her eyes just defocussed, and she said that date nights were important. That Brad was important.

I sometimes wonder if God gave teenagers stupidity so that we’d continue the species. So many girls from my town graduate highschool pregnant, and I think if teenagers were just a bit smarter, the human race would be at serious risk of dying out.

For example, if your older sister is giving you mind-blowing oral sex each and every night of the week, and seeing her boyfriend in a completely non-sexual way, jealousy would be a pretty stupid emotion to feel, right?

And she freely admitted that there was nothing sexual going on between them, and I believed her. But I still felt outrageously, /stupidly/ jealous, and so one night I sneaked into the back of Dad’s car, and went along with them during a date.

It’s one of those things you never think about, how your sister behaves on a date. When she’s around you, they’re acting like they do around family. It’s like trying to imagine your father getting in trouble at work, or your mother during sex. It’s a part of their life that you’d never see, them behaving in a whole different dynamic to the one you see them in.

But had I imagined my sister on a date, it definitely would have been nothing like this. Like I said, my sister isn’t the giggly type, but I’d always gotten the impression she really liked Brad — a bit of nervousness or something would have made sense. Instead, she pulled up outside his house, got out of the car, sat in the passenger seat, and waited patiently for him to come out of the house. No tooting of the horn, no getting out to see him, nothing.

I was hidden in the back seat, under some old blankets we kept in there for picnics and stuff. As long as I didn’t sneeze or wriggle around, they wouldn’t see me, and I’d piled everything in such a way that I had a small but clear view of the front seats. I was counting on them not getting into the back seat to fool around — I figured my sister wasn’t that kind of girl. A bit dumb, in retrospect, considering she had somehow become the kind of girl who gave her brother oral sex each and every night.

If I thought my sister’s behaviour was weird while waiting for Brad, (which I did) it got even weirder when he got into the car. Neither of them said anything — no “hi”, no “how are you”, no “what do you want to do tonight?” Instead, he got into the car, made eye contact with her, and clicked once. Anne didn’t say anything or visibly move, but you could sense that her eyes had unfocussed again. Brad snapped his fingers once more, and she slumped back in the car seat like she was asleep.

Hidden under an old picnic blanket in the back seat, I was freaking out. What had Brad done to my sister?? Was she drugged, dead, sick? Should I do something? If he clicked his hands at me, would I collapse as well? My brain was running at a million miles a second, while Brad drove the car at a much more reasonable pace. I couldn’t quite see where we were going, but after about ten minutes I realised we were well out of town.

Just as I was about to leap out of the blankets and confront Brad, for (I assumed) drugging my sister and driving her out of town to date-rape her, he stopped the car, and Anne woke up.

Well, “woke up” isn’t the right term for it. She still had that weird, glassy, unfocussed feel to her, but she definitely sat up, and made eye-contact with Brad again.

“Anne.”

Brad’s voice was ... it wasn’t like I’d ever heard him talk before. It was deeper, rich. It was like ... you know that black guy who plays Darth Vader? Take his voice, and combine it with the black guy who plays God in that Jim Carrey movie. Brad was white, but his voice sounded like a deep, rich, smooth black guy’s voice.