[This story contains incestuous themes. There also episodes involving voyeurism and group sex. If this type of material offends you...or just doesn't float your erotic boat, you'd be better served by finding another tale. All characters are over the age of eighteen and all sexual encounters are consensual.]
ONCE UPON A GREAT NOTION
"What does that mean?" I blurted angrily.
I had jacked to a halt amid my furious pacing and gave my brother what I knew was a withering glare.
"Nothing," he answered with a shrug, shaking his head just a bit.
"No, you meant something. You wouldn't have said it if you didn't...what?"
Bobby was sitting cross-legged on his bed, a hand of solitaire laid out before him. He eyed me over his glasses...the calm disinterested air of a frickin' swami.
"I didn't mean nothin'," he muttered.
I'd been in a rant for the past fifteen minutes about my boyfriend...my ex-boyfriend to be precise...who'd just unceremoniously dumped me for a...
"You said she has
something.
What a frickin' disease?"
Bobby tried not to grin. Amidst my ravings, most of which centered on the fact that the little bitch he'd cast me off for had nothing on me in looks or brains...or anything...
anything
...he'd mused, in what I'd term his donnish tone, that he'd heard she did have one fine selling point.
"Come on," I demanded furiously.
"She..."
"She what?"
"...She performs what the Italian's call fellatio."
"Blow jobs?"
"You're so coarse," he chuckled. "But yes, I've heard more than one guy brag about...let's call it her expertise in that particular art. "
"Frickin' whore."
"Fuck him and fuck her," he went on, flipping an ace up top and capping it with a deuce. "You're worth a thousand of her on her best day."
I went to say something but felt my eyes well up at the casual compliment. "...Thanks."
"Well you are," he said and flipped another card up.
"Maybe I should start sucking cock."
"Jesus, the mouth on you. Mom hears you talk like that, she'll kill you."
"Six of hearts."
"Six of hearts on the seven," I repeated, gesturing at his game.
He nodded and made the move.
"Maybe I should."
"Huh?"
"You know."
"Jesus, I shouldn't be talking about this shit with my kid sister."
"He asked me to do it."
"And if you did he'd be out telling everybody that you... you know."
"I'd get more dates."
"Probably, yeah," he chortled.
"You're such a jerk." I smiled, and resumed my pacing. "Guys are so stupid for that."
"Dumb as rocks."
"...Have you had a lot."
"I am not talking about this with you."
"Come on," I prodded, amused to see my brother actually blush.
"No."
"You haven't had a lot?"
"No, as in I am not having this discussion. Not with you."
"You don't have to tell me who," I said, in that instant running the faces of his various girlfriends like a police six-pack. "I just wanna know if they did it good?"
He looked at me again over the edge of his glasses.
"Red four up on the Ace stack," I blurted, gesturing impatiently for the move. He obligingly slid the card up very slowly.
"Not particularly, no," he said softly.
"They weren't good."
"I don't think they were that into it."
"So if I decide to do it, I should be good at it."
"Please..."
"You know how I am. If I do something I'm gonna be good at it."
He blushed to a deeper shade of crimson...I was enjoying Bobby's discomfiture, even as my anger ebbed.
"You know if I get something in my head..."
"You'll be a savant, I have no doubt."
"I'll need to practice..."
He waved me towards the door...I was becoming aware that my brother was contorting just a bit to obscure his crotch.
"But if I practice then everyone will know I suck dick..."
"Jesus, please stop."
"But they will."
He waved me off towards the door again. "Yes, like when you started playing the violin. Everybody on the street knew you were learning. Then one day you stopped sounding crappy."
"But then I'll have a reputation as a..."
He abruptly pulled his cards into a rough pile and started tapping them back into deck.
"Lose?"
"No, I gave up."
"Too distracted?"
"No...I just gave up."
"Sorry."
"No you're not."
"...Lets go for a walk."
"No."
"Come on."
"...No."
I leaned against the door...my grin at its most mischievous...my louse of a boyfriend mere dust in my path.
"...Don't wanna stand up." I teased.
"Out," he pointed towards the door.
"I'll wait downstairs." I said, sauntering backwards.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Practice...practice..."
I was muttering the words to myself as I sat watching television. Have you ever had a mental itch...just an idea that weirdly takes hold in your skull and proceeds to spread through your brain like a rooting dandelion. That's exactly how it was with this...four days since I'd had my little conversation with Bobby...four days of that perverse tingle arcing though every synapse in my mind.
I'm not gonna play it up like I was some kind of virgin, I wasn't...but I was only a few fumbling fucks away to be honest. I'd only had two real boyfriends through my three and a half years of high school...and I'd let them both fuck me...hesitantly. I think, looking back on it, that I just wanted it over. They both wore rubbers...I was scared stiffer than their dicks...they came, I didn't.
And no, I had not taken either of their penises into my mouth. My last boyfriend...the nemesis who'd cast me to the curb a mere week after the prom...had what I frankly thought an ugly one. It was...it was ugly. Ugly and not very big either, not that I had a lot to gauge it against. My first boyfriend had a cute looking one, at least I liked it. In the year and a half since we'd broken up, I'd often reflected on that shlong of his...often picturing myself sucking on it...oddly I was always out in the woods doing it for him, kneeling on dead leaves, stripped bare to the waist...the cold wind blowing through the trees...
"Jesus..." I muttered, trying to shake the image from my mind. "...You are so frickin' weird."
"Hey, nerd," Bobby called out as he crossed up to the stairs. My brother was working a landscaping job my Dad had lined up for him for the summer. I watched him taking the steps two at a time...he was just turned twenty, tall and lanky, his hair back then almost down to his shoulders. I shook my head as he disappeared from sight. I closed my eyes and for the thousandth time ran the new fantasy I'd been playing through my mind. I'd touched myself every night of the past four...I liked it, though I still remained devoid of that orgasm I'd longed for. Maybe you're frigid...a frigid old maid. I heard Bobby go into the bathroom and slam the door.
"This is so frickin' weird," I muttered to myself. I clicked the television off and checked the time...two hours before our parents got home.
I stood and slowly eased up the stairs, aware of the shower running now. I stopped and started to turn back three different times. My breathing was rapid. I actually felt a bit lightheaded as I turned the knob and stepped into his room. I sat on the edge of his bed and listened for the shower to stop.
"Hey, a little privacy," Bobby smiled as he came into his room, a bath towel tucked about his waist.
"Sorry," I answered.
"Out, let me get dressed."
"Remember when we were talking the other night."
"When..."
"When I was talking about sucking di..."
"You talked about it...I told you to stop....Repeatedly, as I recall."
"I said I should probably practice."
"I can actually feel my brain knotting in my skull, Sis," he said jabbing a finger at his temple. "Please let's not have this conversation again. You're my little sister, remember?"
"I need to practice, but I don't want everybody gossiping that I suck dick."
"Just let me get dressed... then we can talk, okay?"
"You won't crawl out the window and run away?"
"Of course I'm gonna crawl out the window and run away. Yes! My kid sister doesn't have boundaries, so yes!"
That gave us each a chuckle.
"I've been thinking I should maybe practice on you."
Bobby moved his mouth, but literally no sound came out. He tossed his head, blinked his eyes.
"...Huh?"
"I think I should practice on you. You won't tell anybody at least."
"You...you're..."
My voice was quavering...I could see my brother with the most incredulous expression I'd ever witnessed...as if waiting for the punchline...
"I want to try it on you. You'll tell me if I'm doing it good..."
"Let's...let's pretend we didn't...you didn't..."
"I want to try it. You'll be like my coach."