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Hey! My name's Anne. My kid brother Brodie asked me to share my half of the story - I kept pretty good records, so I can tell you exactly what happened.

I had no idea what Brad (my boyfriend at the time) was up to. When he moved to Vernonberg, I remember thinking he was cute. I wasn't surprised when he asked me out, but I was surprised by what a great time we had together.

Now that I think about it, he might have just hypnotized me to think that it was a good time. I had no idea he was hypnotizing me at all, let alone that he was programming me so that the first penis I saw would become my obsession.

I wish I had. Everything that followed would have made so much more sense.

When Brodie flashed me, I remember two things running through my head simultaneously. One part of me was like "ew, what is he doing, what a gross little turd."

The rest of me couldn't stop staring at it. Even when he put it away, it was like the image was burned into my brain.

The part that was grossed out got smaller and smaller, and by the time I wandered back into my room, it had disappeared completely.

Laying in my room, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I've never had something take over my brain like this - y'know how sometimes you get obsessed with a fight you're having with your mom, or a boyfriend, or you read a really awesome Bible verse and it gets locked in your head? It was like that, but ten hundred times worse.

I knew I should have been grossed out, I knew I should have been thinking about how sinful it was, or that he was my little brother, or that I was saving myself...but all I could think about was the few seconds that I'd spent looking at his pee-wee. I kept replaying that moment, over and over, like I was memorizing its shape, its color...part of me was even convinced that I could remember the smell.

I pulled out one of my sketch pads, and within a few minutes I had a pretty decent drawing of his thingy down. I wasn't completely happy with it though, and I ripped the page out and drew it again...and again and again and again. I didn't even notice until Mom called me down for dinner, but I was sitting there drawing his penis for close to two hours.

After dinner, I ran back upstairs. Everything we'd eaten had reminded me of his package in some way...sausages for obvious reasons, the baked potatoes reminded me of the wrinkly sack that had been sitting underneath it, even the broccoli seemed like a less delicious version of his pubes. Ew, right? But I wasn't grossed out at all. Thinking about tasting his pubes just felt like the best idea I'd ever had.

If it had ended there, it would have been fine. I could have brushed it off as, like, a reaction to seeing a dinky for the first time, or Satan trying to corrupt me but failing.

But as soon as I lay down on my bed, I realized that without even noticing, I'd been pinning up each picture straight after I'd drawn it. Thank the Lord that Mom or Dad didn't come into my room that night; it would have been pretty hard to explain why there were so many doodles of doodles all around my bed.

Laying there, staring at them, my mind began to go into overdrive. I started to imagine that each of the drawings I'd sketched really was his penis, and each of them was coming towards me...sort of like the brooms in Fantasia. I imagined them with little arms and legs, marching towards me, wanting to get inside my mouth and my butt and my...y'know. Down there.

It sounds like a nightmare, but it was anything but. I'd heard of girls getting wet before, and I think I'd even experienced it once or twice, but I was raised a good Christian girl, so normally I'd just ignore those urges until they went away.

That night, I couldn't ignore them. I just lay back, getting squirmier and squirmier, imagining all those Brodie-winkies marching all over me, rubbing against my skin, entering me any way they could, squirting me full of their holy seed...

I'm glad I closed the door. I'm embarrassed to admit, I wasn't able to stop myself from...touching myself. I'd never done it before, but somehow my hands knew exactly where to go, exactly what to tweak and where to play and where to poke and what to fondle. It wasn't long before I was bucking off my bed, tightening around my own wet fingers, experiencing my first ever orgasm.

I couldn't sleep that night. I tried putting all the pictures into my drawer, but as I lay in my bed, I felt like I could hear them calling me, like I could hear Brodie's dink whispering my name, calling for me.

Eventually I pulled the sketches out and looked at them, trying to convince myself that there was nothing fascinating about my brother's wee-wee, that it was just an ordinary part of life, definitely not one worth obsessing over.

But as I stared at the pictures, I found myself remembering details I hadn't drawn. My hands itched for a pen until it felt like they were burning. Eventually, I stopped fighting them and started correcting, enhancing all the pictures.

Heaven Escort forgive me, I played with myself again before I eventually drifted off to sleep. All night I dreamed of me and Brodie engaging in intercourse.

It probably didn't help that the little sleep I did get was on top of the sketches I'd spent all night working on. It was as close as I could get to sleeping with his dong inside of me, and I loved it.

The next day was hard, especially at school - it was made easier as I realized a few things. Brodie, like all of us, was made in the image of God, so it wasn't really Brodie's wing-ding that I was obsessing about, it was...God. Sort of.

It didn't make a lot of sense, but the idea helped anyway.

The second thing I realized was that I'd only seen Brodie soft. I've never seen it happen, of course, but I know the basics - when a man gets excited, his penis hardens, and that's the only way he can engage in intercourse. I was thinking about Brodie's soft penis, so it wasn't even sexual!

The trouble was, when I got home, I couldn't stop wondering what it would look like hard. Did it grow, or was it just the same but with a different texture, a different feel? Was it hard like plastic, or like wood? (people call it wood - is that what they mean?) What would it look like, feel like, taste like?

I'm proud to say I didn't find out that night. I used every ounce of self-control that I could to stop myself from doing anything - I even tried to act normal around Brodie! (although I must admit I spent way more time staring at his pants than I normally would.)

That second night, I had just as much trouble sleeping as the first. At first, I got it into my head that if I just made myself orgasm again, I'd drift right off...the first one was easy: I just shut my eyes, shoved my hand down my pants, and completely failed to avoid thinking about Brodie and I 'doing it'. Within a few minutes, I was again bucking against my hand, crying his name and experiencing the strongest sensations I'd ever felt in my life.

Unfortunately, it didn't help. I spent about an hour writing in my diary, but even that did nothing - I was just as wide-awake as ever, aware that the penis that I was so desperately craving was just one room away, knowing that with a few short steps, I'd be in the same room as it, and with one look and a few words, I could probably have it out, have it in my hand, in my mouth...

Reading over my diary, it reads like a pornographic novel (I assume). I started getting wet again from writing it, and figured that bringing myself off again would solve that problem.

I spent the next few hours discovering the delights of orgasm. All I had to do was imagine Brodie, my kid brother Brodie, the boy who I'd helped learn to read and taught to ride a bike, fought with about who was going to get the larger slice of pie...all I had to do was imagine Brodie pinning me down and making love to me, or forcing me to suck on his member, and I was easily able to orgasm around my fingers.

Sleep didn't come quickly, but when it did I was out cold. I was so tired that my alarm didn't even wake me, and I was put in the embarrassing position of having my mom come into my room and shake me. It was a good thing that I'd hidden the pictures and pleasured myself under the blanket, because my fingers were still inside me (imagining that I was being filled up by Brodie helped me sleep).

That would have been difficult to explain.

The next night, I finally caved. I'm not proud of it, and I know it probably makes me a bad person, or a sinner, but I couldn't resist any longer. I sneaked into Brodie's room, and...well, he's already told you that part.

It all continued the way Brodes described for almost two weeks; every night I'd sneak across the hall, jerk him off, swallow his emissions down, then sneak back to my room and make notes of what I'd learned that night, until I couldn't resist any longer and I'd diddle myself to sleep.

Brodie's cock had been fascinating to me when it was soft - when it was erect, it was like all the best books I'd ever read, combined and injected directly into my brain. I couldn't believe how much it entranced me - I'd spend all day thinking about it, replaying key moments of his masturbation in my mind, remembering the taste, the smell, even the look of lust in his eyes as he watched his sister bringing him off...

I felt a bit bad about cheating on Brad, but we weren't anything serious. He was fun, and he was definitely cute, but nothing about him could compare to how I felt when I saw Brodie's thick member, or the sensations that ran through me when I touched it, held it in my mouth, felt it cumming...

One night, immediately after a date with Brad (heaps of my attitude changes happened straight after a date with Brad, something I didn't piece together until Brodie told me what was happening) I was in Brodie's room and as I held him in my hands, I realized that it wasn't enough.

I needed more. I needed Escort Bayan to taste him, and not just when he was cumming. I needed to have his cock in my mouth, I needed to pleasure him with my tongue and my cheeks and do whatever I could to bring him as much pleasure as I could with my sexy mouth.

My mouth was built to take cock. Brodie's cock. It was more than just a desire, it was an overwhelming urge. I needed it more than I'd ever needed anything; the choice between cock in my mouth and oxygen would have been an easy one to make.

I guess this is why Brad was only going to show me his cock at the end of the program, so that these feelings would have a bit of time to settle. At the time, it was more than a little scary - I was practically crying with need; my mouth felt empty, and I felt like I would die if Brodie didn't let me suck on his gorgeous penis.

Fortunately, Brodie's not that different to most teenaged boys. All I had to do was ask, and he nodded in pleasure and shock. I didn't hesitate, just in case he was going to change his mind - I dove in, and took his glorious member deep inside my throat.

It was amazing. The taste I was already a bit familiar with, but having the whole thing in my mouth was like Heaven on Earth - I could feel every vein, every ridge, every wrinkle with my tongue. I could taste his sweat, a taste only rivaled by his cum. My mouth felt gloriously full as I swallowed him as far as I could.

His pubic hair was on my lips within minutes...I remembered thinking that if I was put on this planet for just one thing, it was for sucking cock. I was able to take the whole thing down my throat almost instantly, and as the base of my little brother's cock stretched my lips out, I shut my eyes and visualized it, imagined what we must look like right now - me, the hottest girl in all of Vernonberg, taking the most beautiful cock in the world so far down my mouth I felt like he was brushing against my tonsils.

After the initial accomplishment of getting the whole thing inside my throat, I set to work, licking and sucking the head, taking mental notes of what Brodie liked and what he didn't. Barely minutes after I started, he was holding my head down as his cock twitched, and ropes of his cum started to arrive inside my my mouth.

I loved every second of it.

That night, I asked Brodie if we could go again...I only just managed to hold back from begging. I wanted him inside my mouth 24/7, I wanted to feel him ejaculating onto my pink tongue again and again, all night long...but he was tired, and needed to sleep.

I nodded in agreement, of course - I would have done anything he'd asked me to - but I don't think I slept at all that night. I just played with myself, over and over again, trying to recreate the sensation by taking anything I could down my throat, anything even close to the same shape was in my mouth that night as I furiously rubbed myself, just wanting to go back and give my little brother head once more.

It was amazing. He's amazing. I don't even care that Brad made me feel this way; I've never been happier.

Here's Brodie.

###

So yeah. It didn't take long for nightly hand-jobs to turn into nightly blow-jobs. And it shouldn't have surprised me, but Anne was amazing. Admittedly I didn't have anything to compare it to, but sheer passion alone must have put her at the top of the field.

My sister didn't just suck a cock, she'd worship it. Every part of her body would somehow become involved; it makes you feel like your pleasure is what gives her life.

It never got samey, either - every night, when she came into my room and went down on me, it was a whole different experience.

The fact that she was gorgeous, Christian, and my sister probably helped as well, but anyone could have delivered that head and I would have been - no pun intended - blown away.

The worst part about all of this (except for maybe the guilt, which disappeared almost immediately when her lips wrapped themselves around my cock) was that it went down without me seeing a single inch of her skin.

Except what I'd been seeing all my life, she wasn't showing anything off at all. It was starting to drive me wild - I was getting nightly blow-jobs from my sister; the most sexy, gorgeous girl in the world - and I hadn't seen anything that the average man on the street couldn't see.

That wasn't the only thing that was annoying me, either. Mom and Dad, for obvious reasons, didn't know about what we were doing, and so they were still coming and waking me up at six, sometimes letting me sleep in until 6:30. As my stamina grew, our nightly sessions were getting longer, and on nights when she was going out with Brad, I wasn't getting to sleep until one in the morning.

My relationship with my sister had never been one where I could insist on anything. She had the power, she always had, and even though she was on her knees for me every night, it's hard to break familiar patterns.

Had Bayan Escort I insisted, or threatened to cut her off, she almost certainly would have done what I said. But doing anything to risk the end of the blow-jobs wasn't even an option, so I never got the nerve up to ask her about maybe taking off some clothes.

But I did ask her about Brad.

On nights when she didn't see Brad, we went to bed about nine, she'd sneak in around ten, and I could be asleep by ten forty-five, eleven o'clock tops. If all nights had been like that, there wouldn't have been a problem.

So I asked if she really needed to see Brad. She insisted she did. She didn't even offer a reason, her eyes just unfocussed, and she said that date nights were important. That Brad was important.

I sometimes wonder if God gave teenagers stupidity so that we'd continue the species. So many girls from my town graduate high-school pregnant, and I think if teenagers were just a bit smarter, the human race would be at serious risk of dying out.

For example, if your older sister is giving you mind-blowing oral sex each and every night of the week, and seeing her boyfriend in a completely non-sexual way, jealousy would be a pretty stupid emotion to feel, right?

She freely admitted that there was nothing sexual going on between them, and I believed her. But I still felt outrageously, stupidly jealous, and so one night I sneaked into the back of Dad's car, and went along with them during a date.

###

It's one of those things you never think about, how your sister behaves on a date. When she's around you, they're acting like they do around family. It's like trying to imagine your father getting in trouble at work, or your mother during sex. It's a part of their life that you'd never see, them behaving in a whole different dynamic to the one you see them in.

But had I imagined my sister on a date, it definitely would have been nothing like this. Like I said, my sister isn't the giggly type, but I'd always gotten the impression she really liked Brad - a bit of nervousness or something would have made sense. Instead, she pulled up outside his house, got out of the car, sat in the passenger seat, and waited patiently for him to come out of the house. No tooting of the horn, no getting out to see him, nothing.

I was hidden in the back seat, under some old blankets we kept in there for picnics and stuff. As long as I didn't sneeze or wriggle around, they wouldn't see me, and I'd piled everything in such a way that I had a small but clear view of the front seats. I was counting on them not getting into the back seat to fool around - I figured my sister wasn't that kind of girl. A bit dumb, in retrospect, considering she had somehow become the kind of girl who gave her brother oral sex each and every night, but fortunately it all worked out okay.

If I thought my sister's behavior was weird while waiting for Brad, (which I did) it got even weirder when he got into the car. Neither of them said anything - no "hi", no "how are you", no "what do you want to do tonight?" Instead, he got into the car, made eye contact with her, and clicked once. Anne didn't say anything or visibly move, but you could sense that her eyes had unfocussed again. Brad snapped his fingers once more, and she slumped back in the car seat like she was asleep.

Hidden under an old picnic blanket in the back seat, I was freaking out. What had Brad done to my sister?? Was she drugged? Sick? Dead?? Should I do something? If he clicked his hands at me, would I collapse as well? My brain was running at a million miles a second as Brad drove the car at a much more reasonable pace. I couldn't quite see where we were going, but after about ten minutes I realized we were well out of town.

Just as I was building up the courage to leap out of the blankets and confront Brad, for (I assumed) drugging my sister and driving her out of town to date-rape her, he stopped the car, and Anne woke up.

Well, "woke up" isn't the right term for it. She still had that weird, unfocussed feel to her, but she sat up straight, and made eye-contact with Brad again.

"Anne."

Brad's voice was...it wasn't like I'd ever heard him talk before. It was deeper, rich. It was like...you know that black guy who plays Darth Vader? Take his voice, and combine it with the black guy who plays God in that Jim Carrey movie. Brad was white, but his voice sounded like a deep, rich, smooth black guy's voice.

I was confused and furious, but I couldn't help but trust that voice.

"Anne," he said. "Anne, you feel sexy."

For the first time since I'd gotten in the car, my sister spoke.

Well, she moaned, anyway.

"Mmmmmmm."

"Anne, you feel sexy. You are a sexy creature. You are a sexual being. You love sex. You were built for sex. Sex is sexy. Sex, sex, sex."

Anne started to squirm around her seat a bit. Her hands started to go up and down her body, like she was caressing herself. When she was coming up the bed to put her mouth on my cock, she...I dunno how else to put it, she slithered up. It was one smooth, silky motion, and that's sort of what she was doing now. Only her hands were moving, but I could swear she was slithering around the car seat.