“I’m going to a Christian camp,” Anne announced at breakfast one day, about two weeks later.
Our nightly visits were still on-going, but the longer we continued, the more resolute I was that it had to stop.
I responded to my sister by almost choking on my Cheerios, but managed to cover it up with a cough. If I was really the good guy I was tying to be, my initial thought would have been worrying how she was going to survive without access to her addiction, but honestly, my first worry was how I was going to survive without sex for a week.
My parents just nodded—this was the sort of announcement that they were used to hearing every month or three—and asked who was hosting it, where it was etc.
“It’s one that Brad told me about,” Anne replied, and my head snapped up to watch her as she continued. Her eyes were unfocussed, and she was swaying slightly.
Thinking about it, I’m not sure how Brad managed to convince my parents he was the perfect little Christian that he clearly wasn’t. Maybe he hypnotised them too? Or maybe Anne’s recommendation was good enough, because she’d never been wrong before. About anything.
But Anne’s declaration that she was going was enough for everyone except me. I did the fastest bit of research I’ve ever done, and proved my suspicions correct—there was no camp. Brad was taking Anne, presumably to finish the program and expose himself to her. Would that cancel out me? Would she now be addicted to two cocks?
I didn’t know what to do. I definitely didn’t want this hypnotising scumbag to take advantage of my sister, so I knew I had to do something fast. I knew I had to tell her what was happening, what Brad was doing.
That night, Anne snuck into my room as normal. Over the past week our relationship hadn’t progressed—it was still just oral and occasional toplessness (though she had started playing with herself while pleasing me, which was new and interesting)—but the dress code had been updated, presumably as a result of Brad’s sessions.
She had started wearing underwear—at first just her boring stodgy bras and panties, but over the course of the week they had gotten sexier and sexier. I dunno if she had bought some herself on trips to the city or if Brad had been supplying her, but whoever was buying—they had good taste.
Tonight’s number was a g-string (it must have been Brad’s influence, because I could have sworn g-strings were on her list of sins) and a half-cup bra, which was something I’d never even heard of before my sister started wearing it for me. I have no idea what her excuse would have been if mom or dad had caught her with that in the hallway. Knowing my sister though, she probably could have explained it away. “No mom, it’s fine. It’s for Halloween.”
She looked at me with a cute puzzled expression when I slapped her hand away. Not like slapped slapped, but stopped her from opening my fly, as had become our routine.
“Anne,” I said, “we have to talk.”
I patted the bed next to me, and she sat down. Her nipples were at attention, but I resisted playing with them. They were perfect little red buds, built to please men. She noticed me staring, and smiled. This time I actually did have to slap her hand away.
“Anne,” I said again. “Have you ever wondered...why we’re doing this?”
She looked thoughtful for a second, then shook her head.
“I mean, you know it’s not normal, right? You’re coming into my room each night, you dress up like you’re my plaything.” (her smile came back at that, eager and proud.)
“I’m your brother. We shouldn’t be doing any of this. Every night, we’re...we’re practically fucking!”
That was a bad choice of words. She bit her lip. her eyes vagued out and rolled back, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
Another thing that had been changing—not only in the last week, though I had definitely noticed it more since witnessing her date—was that Anne was becoming more and more submissive. Most noticeably with me, but she was doing it with everyone, or at least every male. Dad, bringing groceries in, had asked her to give him a hand with the door, and she had almost tripped herself on her rush to open it.
So when I snapped at her to focus, she immediately sat up, started staring me intensely in the eyes, and tried to answer my question.
Well, she didn’t try very hard.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “I thought...I thought you were enjoying this.”
“Yes,” I said, and immediately regretted it when her eyes rolled back again, “but why? Why are we doing this?”
I don’t know if it was a part of Brad’s programming, or my sister’s natural ability to make everything revolve about her, but she looked down at her exposed tits, and frowned.
“I thought...I thought you’d like this. I thought it—”
I cut her off.
“Anne, not the point!”
“It’s okay,” she smiled back at me. “I can take it all off.”
As I sat and watched my sister unhook her bra and slide down her panties, I realised three things. Firstly, my life had changed so much that I was actually struggling to remember what life was like before the day I flashed my sister. Secondly, my sister had changed so much that she was almost unrecognisable—Anne of two months ago would never have shaved her pussy, let alone done it because I’d let slip that I thought it was sexy a few nights earlier.
And thirdly, Brad’s programming must have been nearing an end, because I was pretty sure my sister was about to try to fuck me.
I’d never really thought about sex much before.
Well no, that’s a lie. I’d thought about sex plenty, and in great detail. But I’d never thought about sex as something that could actually happen to me. Whenever I’d played with myself, I’d imagined someone cute and willing. Enthusiasm is sexy, even when it’s just enthusiasm that you’re imagining. No one gets off thinking about having sex with someone who’s not really interested in them.
But even in my wildest fantasies, I’d never thought it would be with someone as cute, willing, and overwhelmingly enthusiastic as my sister.
Before you judge me for what happened next, I want to make it clear that I did try to stop her. I said “no” several times; maybe not as loudly and forcefully as I could have, but the word definitely come out of my mind. I did nothing to encourage her; I tried to push her away, but my hands kept on ending up on her sizeable tits, and once you’ve got your hands on a set of amazing breasts, it’s sort of hard to take them away, y’know?
And when I finally summoned up the will to tell her it wasn’t happening, her mouth sort of landed on mine.
Anne wasn’t my first kiss. I’d gone on one of Anne’s Christian camps once, and a girl there had thought I was cute. It wasn’t anything serious—I was 11—but I just want to make it clear that I’ve kissed a girl other than my sister, okay?
Having said that, Anne was my first kiss with tongue. If you’ve ever got a hot naked girl writhing on your bed, and forcing her tongue into your mouth, then you can judge me for what happened next.
In short, we fucked.
I had no idea Anne’s feet were as nimble as they were. While she was kissing me and holding my hands onto her tits, one of her feet managed to pull down my pyjamas and underpants. She lowered herself down on me—she was so aroused that my cock had no trouble parting her pussy lips, so wet that the resistance was almost non-existent, so ready that she took my entire shaft in one agonisingly slow move.
Maybe part of her “training” had been researching it online, maybe she was just naturally skilled at it (as she was so many things in life), maybe it was the brother-sister thing, but even though it was her first time, it was absolutely perfect. She knew what muscles to squeeze, her little moans and squeals remain the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, and even though she spent most of it with her eyes rolled back in her head in bliss, she was able to gauge exactly when I was about to come, and focus her energies on cumming at the same time.
During most of Anne’s nightly visits, she’s had her mouth full. I don’t think either of us were prepared for the noise that she made as we simultaneously came, as I spurted inside of her and she rhythmically tightened around me. It was loud and joyful, and though my parents are heavy sleepers, I fully expected them to come bursting through the door and catch us.
Perhaps Brad really had gotten to them, perhaps it was just louder to me because I was inside her at the time, but our post-coital panting was not interrupted by mom and dad bursting through the door. After a few minutes, I sat up and just appreciated the vision in front of me—the hottest girl I’d ever met, my sister, naked, covered in sweat, panting with a giant, satisfied smile on her face, having just been fucked for the first time—by me. I leaned over and slowly licked from her nipple to her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed blissfully.
I’m not going to lie; I could have gone again. And again, and again, until morning. I could have gone until we both collapsed from exhaustion, or until our parents literally had to pull us apart. But it was at this moment that I realised the sudden power in my hands.
My sister not only enjoyed my cock inside of her, she was literally addicted. Now that she’d gone once, the floodgates would be down. I suddenly had no fear—there was nothing I could ask that she wouldn’t do, because in my rapidly re-hardening cock, I had all the power.
I stood up.
“Anne,” I said, my voice suddenly stronger than I remembered it ever being in conversation with my sister. “You’re not going on that camp next week.”
Before her eyes had a chance to glaze over, I continued.
“You won’t be seeing Brad again.”
She sat up and started to object, but I interrupted.
“You’ll ring him tomorrow—no, this morning, and you’ll leave a message. You’ll tell him that you know what he’s been doing and that you don’t ever want to see him again. You’ll tell him that if he comes near you, or your family again, you’ll go to the police. And if he ever approaches you, you’ll run away and call me immediately. Do you understand?”
I’ll never get sick of that sight, my sister with her big, beautiful blue eyes, kneeling topless in front of me, submissively nodding.
“Now come over here and clean me off.”
Her eyes lit up at the very prospect of licking the sweat and juices off of my cock, and my eyes rolled back as she began.
Brad left town without issue. I supervised the phone call the next morning, making sure that Anne got her whole spiel out without letting him get a word in. I closed the phone as soon as he started to reply—Anne’s eyes had already begun to glaze over. He didn’t fight it; the more I think about it, the more I reckon he was meddling with something he didn’t fully understand, and when it backfired he just found a way to get back to the city, or at least to a new town where no one knew what he was up to.
Since that night, Anne and I were inseparable. We fucked at night, we fucked in the morning, and if we shared a free period at school we’d fuck in the bathroom. We got so good at it that all we needed was 10 minutes and a closed-off area. Anne’s enthusiasm never waned, and her technique never stopped improving. One time she followed me into the bathroom at church—no one suspected a thing when we returned with slightly ruffled clothing and hair.
After all, who would suspect the leader of the Chastity Club, the most beloved, most holy, most wholesome girl in town of taking her brother into the bathroom and bouncing up and down on his cock for a quarter of an hour?
You’d think I’d tire of her, but her passion never got old, and her array of underwear and costumes (to this day I can’t work out when she gets the time to make costumes) meant that being with her was always fresh, always as good as that first time.
I struggled with it morally, for a while, but any time I got close to rationalising ending it, Anne would come into my room, and one look into those blue eyes, one look at that body that was so clearly built for sex, and I was back in. It would have been a waste to let a body like that be used for anything else, y’know?
The only trouble we ran into was about two months later, when the inevitable happened. I guess in New York they teach it differently, so Brad thought he’d never have to worry about it, but here in the Bible Belt, we don’t have much in terms of sexual education. I’d noticed that Anne’s breasts were slightly bigger, puffier, but I don’t claim to be an expert on breasts. For all I knew, that was just what happened after a few months of being played with daily.
Mom and Dad were surprisingly calm about it. Like I said, it happened to most of the graduating class each year. No one ever suspected me; it was never openly discussed, but the consensus was that it was Brad’s fault, and probably why he skipped town. Anne had to quit cheerleading (but kept the uniform, to my joy) but, incredibly, kept her position in the Chastity Club.
My parents fuss over her; if she wants a glass of water, it’s in her hand before she’s finished the sentence. If she wants half an hour alone with her brother, they don’t question it. Me, I try to take care of her in my own way; by making sure she’s never deprived of her obsession for too long.
What else can a good brother do?
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