Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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Warnings:
This is a first-time story, and it has an incest overlay, with a group sex component, and some bisexuality. The dominant theme though, perhaps, is someone watching, so I put it in the voyeur rubric. There's no rubric for neurotic sex, or I could have placed it there.
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I'm a normal girl. I did well in high school (except, of course, for AP History, which personally I consider to be a highly effective soporific), and I got into a decent college. At the end of my freshman year I had done well in every subject, except for one: Men.
Here I was, 19 going on 20, and not only was I still a virgin, I had never even been kissed. I wasn't overly worried; all women found some man eventually. That's why there were so many people, and in particular so many babies, in the world. By analogy, I didn't want to be like the friends of my parents who used to brag that their little Gregory was reading at age four.
"So what?" my father used to say. "Let's wait until little Gregory does something everyone doesn't eventually do. Otherwise, all you're talking about is timing. What's the rush?"
I always thought those were wise words, and I still do. Now, however, the subject was sex, and I was bleeping tired of waiting to find out what sex was all about. I had exhausted my patience. Despite my father's wise words, I was in a rush to learn.
I was convinced sex was wonderful, since ALL OF MY FRIENDS talked about sex nonstop. I just listened, never having anything to contribute to the conversation. I was frustrated and - quite frankly - annoyed.
Let me make clear from the outset that there's nothing wrong with me. I'm normal. I'm average weight, maybe a tad on the thin side. I'm average height, maybe a tad short. I have a normal figure for a girl my age, although maybe my boobs are a tad big. I'm just being honest here: All of these 'tads' are really just tads. I have, personally, a good body for some guy to exploit. They just don't.
I do have an hourglass figure, and I often dress to emphasize my tiny waist and generous hips. My usual vehicle is skin tight 'skinny jeans' that fit my curves wonderfully. I often wear push-up bras and blouses that show a little cleavage, too. On rare occasions I wear my special outfit that shows quite a lot of cleavage. For what it's worth, I have blonde hair and blue eyes. I wear colored contacts, so sometimes my eyes are blue, and other times they're a deep, seductive, green. I do try to look attractive.
Oh yes, my face. My face could be a problem, I understand that, but quite honestly, I don't think so. My face resembles the face of Kate Middleton. Everyone says so. Also, my teeth are white and straight. So, what's the problem? I figured I was somehow, without realizing it, giving out the wrong signs, the wrong signals if you will, as if I were a stuck-up bitch, or something.
I was home from college for the summer, and my parents were away for a long weekend, so my older brother and I had the house to ourselves. My brother was in town for a few weeks, and I figured he'd have the male perspective. He was flabbergasted when I told him that not even a single boy had yet tried to kiss me. Ever.
"And if one were to kiss me," I added, "I wouldn't know how to kiss him back. I'd have to fake it, and unless I were lucky, it would be a disaster."
My brother Jeff just shook his head, expressing incredulity. I let the bomb drop.
"Jeff, do you have a friend in town, one who's kind and gentle, who could teach me to kiss?" I asked.
"Just kiss? You don't want more?" Jeff replied.
"I'd love more. A passionate make-out session might be lots of fun, but I wouldn't want to impose," I said. "Maybe he could even teach me to French kiss?"
"Christina, you're gorgeous. Any man in his right mind would love to kiss you. He'd probably also love to do a lot more if you're willing," Jeff said. The way Jeff said 'a lot more,' made me nervous. It doesn't take much, however, to make me nervous. I'm an anxious person by nature.
"I'm sure men are not that superficial. Thanks for calling me gorgeous, but men kiss the woman, not the image of one," I replied.
"I'm sure that's true for some men, maybe even for most men. Think of it this way, though. Men like their egos stroked. If a pretty woman submits to them, it makes them feel macho, like a success," Jeff said. "Why do you think rich men often want pretty, young, bimbos on their arms? It's an image thing."
"Or a midlife crisis kind of thing?" I was troubled by Jeff's use of the word submissive. I wondered what he meant? Jeff just smiled, so I continued. "You know, old men trying to recapture their youth with a pretty young thing on their arm?"
Jeff was a hunk. He was tall and slim, but muscular everywhere. His hair was rich and luscious, and his face was chiseled. He could have been a male model were it not for his mouth. His mouth always had a little twist to it, which seriously detracted from an otherwise gorgeous man.
"Maybe you could coach me first, and be there too, for security?" I asked. I was finding that I was very nervous about this whole idea, even if was my own idea!
"How far would you let him go?" Jeff asked.
"Well it depends, I guess, on whether or not I like the guy. Assuming I do, he could go far, even very far. Wait; what do you mean by 'far'? We're only talking kissing here, right?"
Jeff looked at me. It was a complex look, one that someone like me could read any of several different ways. I decided to go the submissive route, and see how that worked out.
"Very, very, far, as long as you're there, too, okay? I'll feel safer with you there." I knew no man would dare try anything too risqué with my brother right there, and watching! That is, unless the man was as weird as I seemed to be...but my brother would stop it, of course. Or course he would: No self-respecting brother is going to let another guy molest his little sister right in front of him! I would be safe.
"Do you remember my friend George?" Jeff asked.
"He'd be perfect," I replied. I had seen George recently. He had been Jeff's best friend since forever, but now he was a grown man. He had a runner's body, ninety percent lung, without an ounce of fat, and lots of muscle. He seemed to always have a two-day growth of beard. I wondered how he managed that? He seemed respectful of women, and he had always been nice to me, even when I was an annoying tomboy in the days of yesteryear.
Jeff made a call. "George is excited. Is tomorrow okay?" OMG, I got very nervous! I knew George well, since he was one of Jeff's best friends, and he was often around as we grew up. In fact, now that Jeff had a crush on Mandy, I often saw the three of them hanging out together. Three good friends ; that was all that they were, just friends, right?
What's wrong with me? These days my mind really does run in the gutter. I instantly thought of Mandy enjoying herself with the two men. I got a little wet thinking about it. Boy, did I need sex!
"Sure, but can you give me some hints, first?" I asked. "I don't want to look like a dork, or a deer in the headlights."
"Come with me, my little virgin," Jeff said, and I giggled as I followed him. He led me to the living room. My parents' living room was the prettiest room of the house. It had a masonry fireplace and comfortable furniture including a fantastic and super cushy couch. An upright piano stood against the far wall. I had spent many an after-school hour practicing at that very piano.
The room was kept obsessively clean, and it had a big picture window looking over the driveway and at our garden beyond. At the right time of day, the picture window flooded the room with sunlight.
"Let's first discuss what you'll wear," Jeff said.
"Does that matter? I was thinking a light sweater and jeans," I said. "Nothing that covers my mouth, don't worry," and I giggled at my own joke. "Unless of course Jeff is into that? I could borrow a niqab?"
"Are you planning to wear a bra?" Jeff asked, ignoring my offensive remarks, meant in jest.
"Of course!" I said, and I looked at him as if he had just landed from Mars. Jeff returned the look. "I'm not a tramp, Jeff!"
"Tomorrow, you're going to look like one, if you think that's what a tramp looks like. No bra, okay?"
"Uhh...doesn't that send the wrong message? I'm not some kind of slut, you know. I'm your bleeping sister!"
"It will send a message to George that you are putting away childish things," Jeff said.
"Corinthians, right? Is a bra a childish thing? I shouldn't think so!" I said.
"Don't be so literal. It's your
attitude
that you should put away," he replied.
"You and Mom; always wanting me to put away things. What do you want? You want your sister, your very own sister, suddenly to become some kind of sexual submissive for your friend George? Is that what you want?" I said, showing my annoyance in my voice.
I began to wonder if Jess suspected that I had submissive tendencies? Do I? So far, no boy had ever seemed to want to find out. Maybe my submission existed only in my sexual fantasies and in the romance novels I liked to read?
"That would be highly effective with George, no question. Keep your cool, though, Christina," Jeff said, and then as if to underscore the point, he said, in a voice that sounded like my father when he's angry, "Take off your bra. Now."
Something deep inside my brain flipped. Suddenly, I was into this. After all, we were only talking about kissing. What harm could come from my obeying Jeff's orders? Probably only good things would come out of it. George was both smart and experienced; no doubt Jeff knew what he was doing. Also, he loved me, and he wanted only the best for me, I was sure. I acquiesced.
"Okay, turn around Jeff," I said.
