Chapter 2 I'm Penny.
I want to lose weight. But it's my brother's birthday and we have a weird relationship and it's a party so a slice of cake can't hurt, probably.
How many calories are in cum?
God, I'm such a fucking slut.
Let me start over. I'm Penny. My boyfriend over there is Ben. He's the cute guy in the black shirt. Black hair, blue eyes, totally doesn't not look like he could cosplay a certain fictional wizard. He pretends to have no idea why anyone would think so but I've seen the reference pictures he brings to his barber. Their little secret.
Mine is a bit bigger.
See, my big brother (just imagine me with no tits and more scruff and some wrinkles at the eyes. Oh, and imagine me as a... hot chick. I'm not really, but imagine) and I had a... thing. We had divorced parents and different lives. He grew up with dad, I grew up with mom. Never the two shall meet (they hate each other, but I guess they used to be into each other - at least twice, anyway). He's ten years older than I am. You're grossed out now. I'd love to say "it's not like that" but I know how it sounds - ah fuck it. It's NOT like that, not really. We didn't grow up together. I never like, worshipped him. I just saw him every few years and five years ago, I was nineteen and we had the worst thanksgiving ever (blended families where every other person is a mortal enemy of the next? Thank you, no) our eyes met across the room as Aunt Gina hurled scoops of mashed potatoes at Uncle Ben (no relation) for some ancient drama and like, there was an unmistakable spark. It's not like I meant to be a virgin, either. I was going to lose mine to Timothy Gershwin but he dumped me at the eleventh hour before I got around to asking him. I have an issue - I can't make myself cum. It's madly frustrating. I get horny and I try and try but it's just... nothing doing, usually. Eventually I give up. It's always been like this. Sometimes I can get off by grinding against a pillow or knotted-up blanket and fantasizing like crazy, but it takes ages.
So anyway. I started rubbing his leg under the table while great aunt Muriel made incredibly bitchy comments to second cousin Luisa about Luisa's boyfriend and hair and weight, and worked my way up and eventually, wouldn't you know it, his massive dick was cumming into my palm, a hot gush that happened while his knuckles whitened around his cutlery. I licked my fingers (my mother scolded me about my table manners - if only she knew), and I swear, he almost passed out. I couldn't believe it worked - I'd learned that move from a book.
He said he had an emergency at work that night and couldn't stay the weekend at Gramma's. He texted me the address to a hotel. Of course I went. He was so tortured, poor thing. I wanted to jump him immediately but he kept holding me off - we could only touch each other, he said. So we did, for two confusing, hot, messy nights, I went over and we rubbed one another - rubbed against one another. He made me cum with his hands and I begged for his cock, but he kept saying it was wrong, wrong, wrong. I got no sleep, going back and forth from family to family (my father actually noticed me for once and asked if I was high - if only he knew).
Even after those two days, I couldn't stop thinking about Luke. Particularly his cock. I wanted it inside of me. I wanted it so badly. Look, it's not ladylike, but I was ravenously horny. I'd been repressed my whole life. The next three months I took advantage of my new freedom as a newly minted college student to escape to the city and uh... try to fuck my brother. He had his own apartment and he was unfailingly a gentleman, except when he was bending me over the bed growling at me for being a cockslut, grinding his palm into my pussy. Which was a lot of the time. It got to the point where just the tone of voice could make me wet. I was so frustrated and so satisfied at the same time. It was like a dream or a nightmare. I knew it was wrong to have penetrative sex, but I didn't see how what we were doing was that much better, but I was afraid if I said it he'd want to stop entirely.
Then he introduced me to his friends.
So, he said there was a party.
He wanted me to go. I was nervous. He said it was okay - nobody there knew me, or would know we were related. I was still nervous. Sure, we were hours from my hometown, but it was only hours - plenty of my peers went to college here. He laughed. They were just his college buds, none of them would know. And anyway, didn't I want to be on his arm for a night? I did.
I mean, I wanted way more. But that was a start.
First, he wanted me to try something. It would make me less nervous. More confident. I shrugged and accepted. It worked.
