Esther and Elijah

Essi strolled back to her bed and settled down on its edge. The wooden frame pushed up the flesh of her thighs, and she adjusted her position, shimmying forward and resting on her buttocks instead.

'I'll give you one thing,' her brother began. 'I may've gotten carried away in church...gotten a bit handsy. Not the best place for that kind of behaviour--though there's something to be said, some parallels to be drawn, between what you did last night and--'

'Bad call. Go on.' She strained to keep her voice level.

'Bad call, yes.' He turned around to face her wardrobe and opened the sliding door. Inside were numerous piles of neatly folded clothes. He swiped his eyes left and right as if searching for something. Then, he picked up a pile of light blue jeans. 'However, we can't have you acting out. Bad behaviour needs punishment. The specific circumstances of your faux pas made it easy for me to come up with the first rule: from here on out, you'll only be allowed to wear skirts. No jeans, pants, trousers, nothing with individual legs.'

Essi needed a moment to process that information. She was distracted. She white-knuckled the bed's frame to keep her hands from her crotch--a soothing gesture she'd picked up as a kid. She'd never had to restrain herself in her own room--it didn't sit well with her. Her brunette hair was slightly matted with sweat, and the room must've had an ambient temperature of 35°C. 'Wait,' she finally muttered, 'you're going to forbid me from wearing jeans--?' Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes slightly narrowed.

'Yeah. I thought it was fitting since you misbehaved while I was fighting with your shorts, trying to fiddle past that stupidly tight leg. Don't you think so?'

'I mean, logic-wise, sure, but--'

He grabbed another pile and dropped it onto the floor. That was followed by another--and another. When he spied a stack of stockings, he paused and said, 'You can keep those for the colder seasons. We don't want you getting sick now, do we?'

His back still turned, and his attention devoted utterly to her wardrobe (with several piles of individual-legged pieces remaining), she decided to indulge the urge, turning her hands back into fists and nestling them between her thighs, squeezing. She only realised the arousal still lingering in her loins might've been the main incentive when an uncertain quiver travelled up her spine. She looked down, seeing a wet spot on the thin linen fabric of her light brown shorts. Her eyes widened, and she removed her hands with a jolt--legs still squeezed shut.

'No complaints?' he said. 'Perfect. You're learning.'

'I am complaining! Where'd you get this from? Some fetish magazine, an online BDSM community, maybe?' Because it's working perfectly, she thought. 'This is ludicrous!'

'If you think this is ludicrous already, I'm afraid you won't like the second part of the rule: no underwear.' He said it casually, looking over his shoulder to see her reaction. He wasn't disappointed, judging by the sly smile which blossomed on his tight lips.

Her face flushed, and she was back to white-knuckling. 'What do you mean "no underwear"!? You do know that skirts are prone to...exposing certain parts of the wearer, right? Rather intimate parts, I might add. I can't go out wearing a skirt with nothing underneath!' The thought--to her dismay--excited her, and she smothered her knees against each other, trying to chase away the sinful thoughts. 'What are you thinking? Wasn't the original arrangement that you'd be starring in my videos, and that's that?'

'I've thought about that as well,' he said, dropping another bunch, 'but I've come to the conclusion that you've taken it into the day-to-day, leaving me to play catch-up. This one's on you, sis.'

'On me?' she yelped. 'You're ridiculous!'

'Language.'

'Sorry...no, wait, I'm not sorry!'

He chuckled. 'You can still back out if that's what you want. I'm not forcing you. That's why it's called an agreement. Get a job and move out, lazybones, if this is too ridiculous for you. Oh, and...' he propped up two fingers and waggled them at her, glancing at her legs '...before we forget.'

She followed his gaze, her mind short-circuiting for the shortest moment before she realised he hadn't been indicating her wet crotch. He meant the shorts themselves. She pursed her lips. 'You--you want me to give you my shorts right now?' she stammered. 'Like, you want me to undress right in front of you?'

'The rule's in place, effective immediately. You're in violation, sis.'

Briefly, she considered the feasibility of actually getting a job. However, she'd have no time to find anything if he told their mother right away, and she'd felt miserable during her last stretch of employment. Worst of all, though, her libido was weighing in heavily, and it wasn't rooting for the escape route.

Reluctantly, she got up--inevitably exposing the wet spot. She didn't want to show any interest in her brother's reaction and stared at the ground. Her supple fingers unbuckled her belt, pulled it from the loops, and dropped it unceremoniously. It clacked against the hardwood floor. Then, she unbuttoned and unzipped, grabbed the hem, and pulled the shorts down in one fell swoop. The wet spot was noticeably bigger and darker against the white fabric of her underpants. The shorts pooled around her ankles, and she stepped out of them, tossing them onto the messy mountain her brother had erected with a kick of her right foot.

Elijah picked up one of the skirts in her wardrobe and handed it to his sister, another smirk on his lips. She glanced up when she took it. Her brother was sporting a sizeable bulge--too sizeable to hide it, which he was trying vainly by tenting his left pocket.

When she pulled down the skirt's zipper and stooped to step in, he said, 'Aren't you forgetting something?' His voice was brimming with innuendo, and he enjoyed the show with every fibre. His eyes were fixed on his sister's panties.

For some reason, the thought of stripping down naked in front of her brother took the air out of Essi's lungs. Her knees grew weak, and she felt a tingle in the tips of her fingers. She knew he'd already seen everything that was to see--her videos didn't leave much room for imagination. He'd seen her breasts, her thighs, her buttocks. He'd seen her pussy. And yet she hesitated, eyes fixed on her brother's groin.

'Are you sure you want this?' she asked, straightening up. She held the skirt by her side--she wasn't trying to cover up. She had a plan. 'There's no going back if you make me do this. Why, what am I asking? By the looks of it,' she continued, pointing at his bulge, 'you're downright eager. You know, if you want me to do this, you should do it first.'

'Why's that?' he said, still fiddling with his pocket.

'Well, you're the master, aren't you? You should take the initiative; show your pet how it's done. And anyway, haven't you asked me if I'd ever seen the real thing? I haven't. Time to show me...non-silicone and all.' Now, it was her time to smirk.

She wasn't sure what she was trying to achieve. Either he backs off, she thought, or he'll pull through, and then I'll have to follow--but then, it won't be too bad anymore, right? Too embarrassing. It'll be...doable. I hope.

'Come on,' she said, stepping closer toward him. 'You can't ask it of me if you won't do it yourself!' She pressed her index finger against his chest, accusingly.

He waited momentarily. Then, he unbuttoned his trousers and said, 'All right, if you insist.' He shook his legs. The trousers fell to his knees. The boxers followed with manual help. His half-erect cock bounced up after the waistband passed over it. The boxers sat above his knees, just below his scrotum--everything was out to see.

The first thing Essi noticed was his pubic hair--entirely overgrown but not shaved, either. The next thought centred around the fact that her brother's cock was out, pointing slightly downward, pointing at her belly. She knew her panties wouldn't dry anytime soon, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him.

He snapped her out of her reverie. 'Your turn.'

She swallowed hard. Her chest heaved up and down, and the room must've finally reached a scorching 40°C--at the very least. The redness in her brother's cheeks hadn't escaped her attention.

With slow, imprecise movements, she grasped the hem of her panties and pulled them down. She wasn't in any hurry. She didn't care about Elijah's stupid grin; she didn't care about her shameless staring. Her hands stretched the panties' tight waistband, clambering down and down. She felt his eyes, watching every inch of progress with bated breath. He watched as her own trimmed pubic hair peeked out, followed by her slit and her slightly swollen clitoris. After it had passed by her hips, gravity took over, and the slip travelled down to her knees.

She knew what the next step was--but waned. She knew she shouldn't listen to her brain right now, bathed in hormones and whatnot, practically swimming in arousal, lust, and excitement--libido turned up to eleven. But waned. She ignored the panties; she ignored her brother's expectant gaze at them, waiting for her to strip them off entirely. She stepped forward, walking on her tiptoes, and grabbed his cock. Except for a sharp breath, Elijah didn't interfere.

She held it down--now pointing straight at her at her pussy--and took another step, wedging it between her thighs. It was hot. Hard and blazingly hot. Those two words mingled in her mind, and she looked up at her brother, meeting his gaze. His mouth was slightly agape.

Then, she started moving her hips. There was no friction--she was dripping with juices--and her pussy rubbed against his cock uninhibitedly, grinding, feeling his hot, hard rod working her clit, sliding while thumping again and again. Was he flexing his cock? she thought. Tingles of pleasure spread throughout her body. Goose pimples spread along her lower arms. But she tried not to spread her lips--incest was still written in her mind, somewhere, lowercase and hidden away. She kept him from diving in, from accidentally sliding into her, holding her legs clamped. One of her hands was snug between their stomachs, pushing his cock down between thrusts--adjusting course. Every time they met--Elijah had started to adopt her slow, sensual rhythm--her breasts, hidden behind a white tee, pressed against his chest, and he felt her hard nipples through the thin bra.

They started moaning, breathing into each other. Elijah's arms wrapped around his sister, holding her tight. Whenever the rhythm allowed, he hugged her tightly, pressing her delicate body against his, feeling the tip of his cock peeking out between her buttocks, the shaft cradled by his sister's most intimate area.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and Essi couldn't contain herself any longer. She knew she'd wind up regretting it afterwards, but that didn't matter right now. It didn't matter at all. She buried her face in his shoulder, moaning, breathing, panting, smelling and feeling and experiencing him fully. She pulled her hand away, no longer adjusting his cock's trajectory, wanting as much contact as she could get, wanting their hips, stomachs, and chests to touch, to grind against each other.

His cock started thumping up harder, twitching and trembling between her legs. She feared he might slip in, accidentally burrow his way into her. He didn't. Instead, Elijah let out a pleased grunt. His cock tensed several times, each time releasing a string of hot semen--most of it, as Essi later noted, landing on her bed, but some of it sticking to her buttocks, taken along by his tip when he withdrew after the final thrust, rubbing it in, mixing it with her juices.

At the sensation--and the thought of his seed spread all over her aching pussy--Essi orgasmed. A tremor rocked through her entire body, and she pinched her legs to the point she might've snapped off Elijah's cock had it still been lodged between her thighs. Her arms burrowed rivets into his back, and she gave a satisfied squeal muffled by her brother's shoulder.

When she looked down--following Elijah's lead--she saw that his member had already shrunken somewhat, drooping, pointing at her belly again. It glistened, and a thick, wet string connected his tip to her pussy. Some of it was clear; some of it was white.

'You...' her brother muttered '...you're taking the pill, right?'

'Yep,' she answered in a breathy voice, still staring at his dwindling erection. 'And you don't have any STDs from college sluts--?'

He dabbed a hand against her face and pushed her away, groaning, searching for a tissue box.

Afterwards, Elijah helped her clean up. She pointed him toward the tissue box and watched as he plucked a handful. She felt sort of disappointed when he simply handed them to her. No initiative, she thought. She dabbed them against her intimate area--the entire area; everything was wet, slippery, and slimy.

Elijah also fetched a couple of tissues for himself, the mattress and the bed's frame. Before leaving--his trousers and boxes pulled back up as though nothing inappropriate had ever happened--he gestured to Essi, palm flat and fingers waggling. She took a second.

She finally stripped off the panties, handing them to him. He promptly stuffed them into his back pocket. Then he collected all the other individual-legged pieces of clothing--which took several walks to his room and back--and left. He said he'd stow them in a bin liner or a burlap sack and return them as soon as she'd made up for the rude behaviour. Left alone, Essi had some time to think, and the first thought came with a side order of denial.

'It wasn't incest,' she murmured. 'It wasn't sex, after all, it was...rubbing, intimate rubbing...but not sex! So, not incest.'

Then followed a flood of embarrassment, anger, and disappointment--directed at herself, this time. She fell down on her bed, face down, breathing in the sweaty odour of her sheets and keeping her hands removed from her crotch. She considered her libido might've developed a mind of its own. She didn't want to test it.

The worst of it?

'Ugh...why did it feel so good?' The entire thing played in her head, forward and backwards, up and down, again and again. She couldn't shut it off. 'I should've just stripped like a...a...good pet...and surrendered. I shouldn't have dared him like that.'

His words returned to her: 'This one's on you, sis.' She supposed he was right this time. She'd brought this on herself.

'This can't happen again,' she said with conviction. 'From here on out, I'll behave. I'll...I'll play the textbook little sister, listening to every word Elijah says. If I don't misbehave, he won't throw any further punishments my way, and that's how this whole situation came to be.'

The turmoil in her mind was starting to ease up. She was developing a plan, and that was good. A plan's the first step to betterment, or something like that. It was good, good.

'He said I'd brought it into the day-to-day, probably with that little nighttime disturbance, so if I make sure not to repeat that mistake from here on out, he might be willing to return to the original arrangement--video sessions only. Then, I'll be able to...live with myself, and he'll get his vids. I'll get to keep living here, and I'll get to--uh, do...do me...on camera...'

Her heart was thumping.