Helpful Hannah
by Pan
Chapter 8
When I awoke the next morning, I had calmed down a lot. I was still revolted by what I’d done, of course—I’d been so horny I’d let my pussy do the thinking for me…so turned on, so eager to help that I’d done the unspeakable:
I’d seduced my brother.
That was the worst part about it—I felt so bad for him. He’d come to me with a problem, not expecting his own little sister to be such a pervert. I was so sick—convincing him to fuck me, that since he was wearing a condom it “didn’t count”.
I’d just been taken over by my own wanton lust—I couldn’t blame him for not expecting his little sister to be such a sex fiend. It had even taken me by surprise.
A part of me was tempted to avoid him, purely to avoid any awkwardness, but I knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. The trick is to encounter these things head-on, otherwise they just build up and build up…
And so I put on some of my sexiest new lingerie, and slipped across the hall into his room.
“Hannah!” he said with surprise, and I went beet-red. God, he probably never wanted to talk to me again, not after what I’d forced him into the previous night.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I said, a secret thrill going up my spine at the way he couldn’t stop staring at my nipples, clearly visible through the peep-hole bra that I’d chosen. “I can assure you, it won’t happen again.”
“Of course,” he said, and I wondered if he was even aware of the way that his right hand had gone straight to his cock and started stroking it. Touching himself must have just been an instinct, when a sexy girl came into his room and posed for him in lingerie. Even if it was his sister.
I had more to say, but the motion of his hand distracted me, and I just stood there silently for the next few seconds, watching it pump up and down and up and down.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke…
I shook my head, and forced myself to look back up at his face. He returned my eye-contact, but in my peripheral vision, I saw that he never stopped stroking his big, beautiful cock.
“I was hoping to catch you asleep…” I said, suddenly shy. “We’re so close to making you cum—I know we are. Let’s do everything we can to make that happen?”
“Everything?” my brother replied, raising one eyebrow.
“Of course,” I muttered, aware that my gaze had dropped back down to his cock, where his hand was moving in a slow, familiar rhythm.
Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.
It’s the last time, I mentally added.
The previous night, I’d sworn that I wasn’t ever going to help my brother again—that it wasn’t good for either of us. When I’d awoken that morning, however, I’d immediately recognized how unfair the idea was. My brother had a problem, a medical condition—and I’d promised to help.
I had to help him. It was what I was there for…it was what little sisters were for. I wanted to be a good little sister, and I certainly didn’t want to project my issues onto him. It certainly wasn’t his fault that we’d had sex last night.
And so I’d decided to give it all I had, for one more day. One more day only. If we couldn’t beat it today, we’d have to call it quits. But for one more day, I’d be his.
It wasn’t his fault it was the best sex of my life…but that was a thought I was trying very hard not to have.
And so I sat at the end of his bed, pinching and tugging on my nipples as I watched him stroke his cock. I’d come into the room that morning with a strict set of rules I was going to follow. I wasn’t going to touch him. This was going to be the last day I helped him.
And I certainly wasn’t going to touch myself…not after where that had led the previous night.
I didn’t trust myself. Not with such a big, magnificent, beautiful cock.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
I’d expected to feel nothing but revulsion as I helped my brother for the last time, but despite the disgusting memories I couldn’t help but associate with my brother’s cock, I couldn’t help but admit how nice it was. Thick, strong, delicious. I loved watching him stroke it—up and down and up and down…
Honestly, watching him run his hand up and down his shaft made me miss it. How it felt in my hand—so soft to the touch, so hard underneath. The way it would throb along with his heartbeat, or pulse if I did something particularly stimulating.
I couldn’t help but moan slightly as I tugged on my teats, watching my brother jerk off. God I wanted to touch it—I loved the smell, the touch, the taste…I was so tempted to play with myself, but I knew that I couldn’t. I couldn’t…
We sat there for so long, him slowly pumping his cock, me tugging on my tits, obscenely stretching my nipples, hoping he was enjoying the sight of my hot body, the view of my shaved pussy that my crotchless panties gave him…every now and again I found myself muttering “This is the last time,” but my brother would just shush me and tell me not to worry about it, and so I didn’t, just watched as he pumped his thick, gorgeous cock.
I have no idea how long I’d been sitting there when he stopped. My nipples were aching, but I couldn’t tell if that was from need, or from how hard I’d been pulling on them. My brother’s hand halted, and it took me a few seconds to realize what had happened.
“Why?” I said, sounding strangely desperate. We only had one day left…I needed him to cum. I needed it. And it certainly had nothing to do with how much I loved watching him.
That’s what I told myself, at least.
“Hmm?”
“Why did you stop?” I repeated, sounding no less needy.
“It’s no good, Hannah—my hands are just so tired.”
“Oh,” I said, my heart sinking. If I couldn’t help my brother cum, I was worthless.
In that room, I told myself. My purpose in that room at that time was to help my brother cum—if I wasn’t able to do that, I was worthless.
It was a strange thought, but it somehow resonated through my whole body.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“No!” I said, far too loudly. There wasn’t going to be a tomorrow—if I was going to help my brother, it was going to have to be now.
And of course I was going to help my brother. That wasn’t even a question.
“Here,” I said, throwing my first rule out the window and ignoring the part of my brain warning me it was a bad idea. “Let me…”
I crawled toward my brother on the bed, my tits dangling beneath my body, and positioned myself so he could see as much of me as possible. My hand wrapped around my brother’s cock perfectly, like I was born to do it, and I started stroking, trying to hold back a moan as I did.
Everything about that moment—it just felt so right. I loved helping my brother get off. I loved using everything I had—my body, my hand, everything. If it would help him get off, it was his.
Just for one last day, I told myself.
As I jerked him off, he started stroking my hair, and I allowed myself to be lost in the moment.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke. Up and down. Up and down. Everything was so relaxing—so right. I don’t even know when I started stroking my wet, exposed pussy. Everything was in sync—my hands, my pussy, my brother’s cock. Even his hands were stroking my hair to the same rhythm.
Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. I loved helping my brother get off. I loved pleasuring him. I loved being…
Talk, I suddenly told myself. Talk to him—it’ll help him get off.
“I love being your little pleasure slut,” I said, barely even listening to the words sat they tumbled out of my mouth. “God, I fucking love the feeling of your cock in my hands…I wish I could do this all day. I love it, I truly do. It’s so relaxing—it gets me so wet. I’m so turned on—your cock turns your little sister on so much. I love being a slut for my brother. I love being my big brother’s little pleasure slut. I’m your little sister slut—I’ll do anything for you.”
“Sshhh,” he said in response—I’d surprised even myself, calling myself his little sister slut. Obviously it had put him off…but I couldn’t stop. The floodgates had opened, and I couldn’t stop talking dirty.
“I loved fucking you last night. I can’t stop thinking about it—I just want to ride your cock all day every day. I just want to make you cum, cum inside me. I want you to cum for your little sister—will you do it? Will you cum inside your slutty little sister?”
“Hannah!” he said, shocked, but I was so horny that I’d completely lost control of my mouth. and so I did the only thing I could think of to shut myself up…I leaned forward, and took my brother’s cock into my mouth.
Oh god, I thought. It felt so good…it felt so right. It felt like I was born for this, for the explicit purpose of sucking my brother’s cock. Just the idea of how it must look—my lips wrapped around his big, thick phallus…it was almost enough to make me cum on the spot.
But I couldn’t. I was so wet that I was dripping onto the sheets, so horny that my entire hand was now pumping in and out of my sopping cunt, but I couldn’t cum. Something was stopping me, but I was far too distracted to think about what it was.
My head was frantically bobbing up and down on my brother’s cock. I wanted to make him cum more than I’d wanted anything in my life, and looking up at his sweating face, I could see that he was close.
Up and down and up and down. My brother spoke to me as I desperately blew him, his words washing over me like a shower. All I cared about was the thick piece of meat in my mouth. I was practically fisting myself, but my own pleasure was incidental—my brother’s was key.
I can’t cum until my brother does, I told myself. Yes, that was it. A perfect incentive. More than anything, I wanted to make my brother cum. More than anything, I wanted to use my slutty sister body to get him off. I wanted him to fuck my mouth until he filled it with his thick, salty cum.
And until he did, I wasn’t allowed an orgasm of my own.
My jaw was starting to hurt, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but him, but making him cum. He deserved it so much more than I did—that’s why I was there. In his room. I was there to give him pleasure, and I was going to use whatever tools I had to do it.
And so my dismay was overwhelming when I felt him start to slow down.
“What’s wrong?” I said, when he pulled his rock-hard cock out of his mouth.
“It’s no good,” he said, even as he watched my cum-coated hand sliding in and out of my wet pussy. “Last night…”
My heart sank. Oh, god. Last night had been so disgusting to him that he couldn’t cum—not while the memory was still fresh in his mind. I’d screwed up—I’d ensured that he was never going to cum with me in the room. I was never going to be able to help him cum—the idea of having to stop made just me want to cry.
Of course, I’ll be stopping after today no matter what, I told myself, trying not to dwell on the tragic thought. Helping my brother cum was so relaxing, so hot—it had somehow become the highlight of my day without me even noticing.
No wonder he thinks I’m a pervert.
“Last night…I was so close.”
I looked up in shock. Close?
“I was so close—if you hadn’t run out when you did, I think I might have been able to do it. I think I might have been able to cum.”
I blinked twice, bewildered by what I was hearing. Last night—fucking his own sister—he’d almost been able to cum?
What the hell was wrong with my brother?
As I processed what he was saying, his hand drifted back to his cock, and he started to stroke again. Up and down…up and down. My saliva must have provided him with enough lubricant to overcome his tiredness. Thank god—it was so much easier to think when I watched my brother masturbate, for some reason.
Up and down…up and down…stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.
I shouldn’t be too hasty to judge, I told myself. After all, I managed to cum while being fucked by my own brother. He probably doesn’t even think of it like that—it’s just a wet hole for him to fuck.
I’m just a wet hole for him to fuck.
The thought made me feel much better. I wasn’t fucking him as his sister—I was just providing him a pussy to stick his dick into. Everything else was incidental—it wasn’t an act of incest, it was one of servitude. I was giving him a nice, warm, wet hole to fuck. It was a service—I was like an inflatable sex-doll, just infinitely more responsive.
I’m just a hole for my brother to cum in, I told myself. It didn’t sound so bad when I put it like that. It was a strong thought, one I could grab onto.
And after all, it was the last day I was going to help him.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
“Okay,” I said with a whisper, and my brother sounded surprised.
“Oh god, Hannah, I didn’t mean…”
“No,” I said, with a slight shudder of arousal. “Do it…I want to help you. However I can.”
“Okay…” he said reluctantly, and as his hand left his cock, a twinge of doubt came upon me. Before I could follow the train of thought too hard, however, he’d slipped a condom on his cock, and it was approaching my wet pussy.
That’s all I am, I reminded myself as a surge of pleasure ran through my body. A wet pussy for my brother to fuck.
It was a helpful thought.
For the second time in twenty-four hours, my brother’s condom-clad cock slowly entered my pussy. This time, however, I wasn’t mindlessly turned on (as I had been the previous night) and so I was more able to enjoy the experience for what it was.
Not, I reminded myself, that this is for my pleasure. It’s for his—I’m here to help him cum.
I focussed on the feeling of my cunt adjusting to his width, the slight stretching sensation as his entire length entered me. I concentrated on how being fucked doggy-style helped him hit my G-spot, making me wetter and wetter with each stroke.
I’m just my brother’s fuck-hole. I’m just a wet pussy for him to fuck.
He pounded me, over and over, and I thought about how sexy it must look—my tits bouncing in my black, lacy peep-hole bra, the noises of pleasure I made from being filled up repeatedly.
It’s all for him, I reminded myself. Every sexy squeal and squelch—it’s all for him. I’m here to be used by him, to get him off, to do whatever he desires.
My brother stroked my hair as he thrust into me, again and again. Unlike last night, I knew I wouldn’t cum before him.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke. In and out and in and out.
My body exists to serve my brother. It’s his for the taking—anytime, anywhere. If it’ll help him get off, I’ll do it—no matter what.
After I came last time, I’d freaked out and run out of the room. Tonight, I didn’t want to do anything that risked him not being able to get off—I didn’t want to stop, I didn’t want to question what we were doing, I didn’t want to think.
I’m here to make my brother cum. My purpose is to make my brother cum.
I didn’t want to think about what we were doing. I just wanted to be there, on my hands and knees, moving my body for my brother’s pleasure.
Everything I do is for my brother’s pleasure.
With that thought, I turned my mind off, and concentrated entirely on my brother’s pleasure.
Some time later—it could have been a few seconds, it could have been a year—I could feel my brother’s hips starting to twitch, the way my boyfriend’s do when he’s about to get off. Delighted, I started rhythmically squeezing my vaginal muscles, doing everything I could to coax his cum out.
I thought he’d been fucking me as hard as he could, but a surge of energy seemed to come across him, and he started really pounding into me. I knew that my pussy would be sore later, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing matters but helping my brother cum.
He rammed his hardness into my wet pussy, over and over, until a deep guttural sound left his mouth and he pushed as far inside me as he could, moaning loudly, his cock sporadically spasming.
Was this it? I thought, barely able to breathe. It really felt like we’d done it—it really felt like I’d finally, after all these weeks, managed to do the unthinkable and help my brother cum inside me.
I stayed perfectly still, on my brother’s bed on my hands and knees, as he slumped onto my body, clearly spent. Finally, after a few minutes had passed and I felt his cock start to soften, I couldn’t hold back any longer, and spoke up.
“Did…did you cum?”
Holding my breath as he pulled his softening cock out of my pussy, I heard the sound of the condom being thrown into the bin. Only when it was gone did my brother replied.
“Sorry,” he said, and I collapsed on the bed with sadness. “Maybe next time.”
“Of course,” I responded, and when I turned around to see that he was looking at me, gave my ass a little wiggle. “Maybe next time can be soon…”
With a smile, my brother nodded, and with a delighted squeal, I crawled over to him and took his flaccid dick into my mouth, using every trick I knew to get it hard again.
I was going to make my brother cum today, even if it meant we did nothing until midnight but fuck.
He didn’t cum the next time we fucked. Or the next time, or the time after that. The fourth time, he fucked me for almost an hour straight before throwing out the condom and giving up—and as per my self-imposed rule, I didn’t cum either.
I’ll tell you, I thought I’d been horny in the past. Letting someone use you for sex for close to 6 hours straight? Even if it is your brother, even if you’re sore by the end of it: there’s nothing hotter, and by the time we were at risk of our parents coming home, I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life. I was sweaty, I was dripping, and I would have done anything in the world to help my brother get off—even if just so that I could find relief myself.
My brother was keen to try again, but I knew I’d go mad with frustration if I let him fuck me for another few hours, and so I insisted that we stop. (also, although we knew we were doing the right thing, our parents had no way of knowing our good intentions and think we were up to something sick.)
“Try again tomorrow?” he asked, and I agreed immediately. My promise to myself seemed a bit selfish now—after all, I was the one calling it quits, and my brother hadn’t done anything wrong.
Why punish both of us for something that was nobody’s fault?