Bible Belt Redux
by Pan
Chapter 1:
It all started the day I flashed my sister.
See, we live out in the Bible Belt, a little place called Vernonberg. Everything you’re imagining, that’s it. I live in a town of about 200 people, and all of ’em cram into the same Church every Sunday. My sister is the head of the chastity club. Every boy in town probably thinks it’s a complete waste; she’s easily the hottest girl in the state.
I’d never thought of her in a sexual light before though. She was just my older sister—a bit of a pain at times, useful at others. Sometimes good company, sometimes the last person I wanted to hang around with. Y’know, just an older sister.
But it’s hard to stop thinking about someone in a sexual light when they become completely obsessed with your cock.
I had no idea what her boyfriend Brad was up to at the time. I knew him, of course—in a town this small, a new arrival is often the biggest news of the year. He was from New York, and his parents sent him out here to live with his uncle and aunt, some kind of punishment.
New blood—even from the Godless state of New York—is still attractive, and with her looks, my sister could have her pick of any guy. Less than a week after Brad moved here, they started dating.
I was trying to work it out later, and I must have flashed my sister about three weeks into the program. I didn’t mean anything by it—I just thought it would annoy her, be funny, you know. I thought she’d shriek, maybe tell mom and dad, at worst I’d get a talking-to and at best I’d get a good laugh.
So when she stopped in tracks and widened her big blue eyes, I wasn’t sure how to take it. She didn’t get mad, she didn’t say anything…she just stood there, staring at my dick.
After a few seconds, I asked if she was okay. She nodded and kept on staring.
I covered myself back up with my towel and returned to my room; she went back to hers.
Other than a passing thought of “wow, how weird” and briefly wondering if she was trying to get in my head to sort of prank me back, I didn’t really think much of it.
Meanwhile, she was continuing to see Brad every night or two. Like I said, it wasn’t until later that I found out what they were doing on their dates (except I knew that it wasn’t anything sexual, because…well, y’know. My sister has her flaws, but I knew how serious she was about the Chastity Club. She wanted nothing more than to go to Liberty University a virgin, find her soulmate, all that jazz.)
But I’ll tell you now because otherwise the next bit of the story won’t make sense: Brad got sent from New York because—and I genuinely didn’t believe this at first—he was caught hypnotizing girls.
Yeah, that’s right. Hypnosis, like in those old cartoons.
I dunno why they didn’t think he’d try it out here. Maybe they just didn’t care, as long as it was somewhere he couldn’t cause any bad press. His parents are big-shot lawyers out there, or doctors, or something like that.
But yeah—on each of their dates, Brad was taking my sister somewhere quiet and dark and just hypnotizing the heck out of her. Why he did it in such a risky way, I don’t know—maybe he only knew the one program, or maybe it’s something to do with giving them a fixation, something to obsess over. Maybe he just likes playing weird mind-games, I dunno.
But the program he was using was a simple one—it boiled down to the idea that the next penis my sister saw, she’d become obsessed with. She would want to fuck and suck and do everything with it. She’d masturbate thinking about it, do anything to touch it, play with it every chance she got. She’d think about it before she went to sleep and be hungry for it first thing in the morning.
And in Brad’s defense, it was probably a pretty safe bet. Before I flashed her, I don’t think my sister had EVER seen a penis. Brad’s plan was obviously to finish the program then get her hooked on his dick and enjoy the benefits.
Three weeks into the six-week program, he had no idea that her kid brother would flash her in the hallway and accidentally hijack the whole thing.
She didn’t do anything for the next few days. Like I said, I’d pretty much forgotten about it. But two nights after I flashed her (it must have been a…Thursday?) she came into my room and sat on my bed.
“Hey,” I said. From my point of view, nothing was up. We weren’t close close, but we weren’t at each other’s throats all the time or anything. Coming in for a chat wasn’t anything strange. She closed the door; not necessarily normal, but could just have been to talk about our parents or whatever.
“Hey...”
There was a weird pause, and I went back to reading my magazine.
“Hey Brodie,” she said...oh, that’s me! My name’s Brodie, and she’s Anne. I just realized I never told you that. “Hey Brodie, have you got a girlfriend?”
“No,” I said, without looking up from my magazine. “Why, are you offering?”
She didn’t laugh, but I didn’t really expect her too. Dad once said Anne got my dose of the serious as well as her own.
“I was just wondering if you...y’know. Like anyone.“
“Not really, sis.” I wondered where this was going. I had no idea about Brad’s hypnosis at the time, I just knew that my sister was acting weird.
Poor girl. Even though she was only halfway through the program, she’d already spent two nights confused, replaying that moment in the hall again and again instead of sleeping.
“So…who do you think about when you, y’know, play with yourself.”
Suddenly her intentions seemed obvious. Anne’s Chastity Club were all about not only stopping people from having sex, but also preventing masturbation. Lusting after a woman is as bad as having an affair, all that. My sister had never tried to guilt me about it before, but I’d seen her go to work on other guys.
“Anne,” I groaned (a week later I’d spend a lot of time groaning my sister’s name, in a completely different way.) “I don’t really want to talk about that with you.”
“No no no,” Anne said, after a few seconds of confusion. “That’s not what I mean. I figure that, y’know, you’re doing it and that’s fine.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. I mean, sure, we’re not really meant to lust, but better to have a bit of relief than to, y’know, do it. It.”
She looked a bit distracted for a few seconds, then her eyes regained their focus.
“And when I find,” she continued, “You know, the one, I was thinking about it...”
“Yeah?” I said, completely clueless. This was nothing like Anne. She had a slightly manic look in her eyes—a bit like she did when she was going on about the chastity club, or hearing the Word. It was a weird mix of passionate and exhausted—like I said, I found out later that she’d had less than five hours sleep in the last two days.
I probably could have talked her into pretty much anything if I’d known what was happening, but I wasn’t thinking like that. Yet. At that stage, I was just feeling worried about my older sister.
“So I was thinking that, y’know, if you...well, y’know.”
“Anne, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She shook her head, as if trying to get a cobweb out of her hair, or a voice out of her ear.
“I was wondering if I could watch you.
“What?”
“Y’know. If I could watch you.”
“Watch me what?”
She sighed, exasperated. I sort of knew what she was talking about, but didn’t want to be the first one to say it. If I’d misinterpreted what she was talking about, I’d never hear the end of it.
“Watch you...y’know. Masturbate.”
“Anne!” I was genuinely shocked. I’d never heard her use such language. I don’t even know if she’d ever said the word before; it certainly didn’t roll off her tongue.
The manic look was back in her eyes again. One of her hands was fiddling with the cross she wore around her neck, and she swallowed nervously before she replied.
“I just want to watch. Y’know, so I can learn. I want to see what it looks like.”
“Anne, is this some kind of weird joke? Is this revenge for the other day in the hall?”
She unfocussed for a few seconds, then snapped back.
“No! I...please, Brodie?”
I dunno what I expected. She was never good at arguing, and she’d never really had to do much to convince people to do what she wanted. Even mom was putty in her hands. She had that sort of aura around her—like God had picked her out for something special, like she was somehow better than other people. Maybe that’s what she thought too, and that’s why she never really tried that hard. If something was meant to be, it would happen, and if it wasn’t going to happen, it wasn’t meant to be…so why try too hard?
It worked on me, for whatever reason. Maybe just because it was so weird; my hyper-Christian, sex-before-marriage-is-as-bad-as-murder, virginal enough to make Mary look like a slut...my confident, gorgeous older sister had just asked me to masturbate in front of her.
But it was too weird for me to even notice how weird it was—I was focussed on what was happening, not the bigger pictures, so I just nodded and Anne breathed a sigh of relief.
This would have been the perfect opening to ask if she, y’know. Played with herself. But honestly, it never occurred to me that it was even a possibility. Girls, as far as I knew, didn’t, and especially not my sister.
I certainly had no idea that two days ago she had cum for the first time, thinking about me.
And then six more times since.
I awkwardly lowered my pajama pants. For a moment, I considered asking if she was sure, but the enraptured look on her face answered the question for me. As I pulled out my rapidly-hardening penis, I could have sworn that a slight moan escaped her lips.
We sat there for a few minutes, her breathing heavy as she stared at my member. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Like, I’d jerked off before, but never for an audience.
Finally, she broke off her gaze, and looked up at me.
Like I said, I’d never thought of my sister in a sexual light before…but something about her big blue eyes looking up at me, her hard breathing making her breasts heave, just from the fact that I was showing her my cock. The way her mouth was twisted in nervous excitement...for the first time, I realized how lucky her future husband was going to be, getting to have her every night.
When my sister’s tongue unconsciously flicked across her lips, I suddenly noticed how hard I was.
“So what now?”
I can’t remember if I asked that or she did, but one of us broke the silence, and we both giggled. I suddenly relaxed—this might be a weird situation, but she was still my sister.
I didn’t say anything, just slowly started stroking my hand up and down. Her eyes widened, and she leaned in closer.
For the next five minutes, the only noise was her breathing and me...well, jerking off.
“Watch out!” I grunted when I felt myself getting there, and she jumped backwards as I started to cum.
She watched, entranced, as I shot over my stomach and chest (I’d had the forethought to unbutton my pajama top.) Later in the week she’d have some questions, but that first night, she just sat and watched, drinking it all in.
With her eyes, that is. Not her mouth.
Not yet.
After I was done shooting off, I grabbed some tissues, cleaned up the mess, and we sat there in another awkward silence. The wild look was gone from her eyes—she suddenly seemed way, way more calm, but still a bit...antsy? You know, like she suddenly needed to be somewhere else, like she had something to do.
“Thanks for that, Brodes.” she said. “That was...really interesting.”
“Uh…no worries.”
Again, it would have been a perfect opportunity to ask her to now show me, but like I said, I had no idea that she DID, let alone that she probably would have obliged.
I wasn’t to know for a while, but after she sneaked out of my room, she had a masturbation herself, and then slipped into what she described as ‘the most restful sleep she’d ever had.’
The next day could have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Probably because of the great rest she’d had, she skipped into breakfast the next morning, stuck her tongue out at me (weirdly playful, even for her) and we didn’t really talk to each other for the rest of the day. We go to the same tiny school, of course, but even in a school of less than fifty people, it’s pretty easy to avoid seeing someone a few years older than you.
It wasn’t until late that night, after she got home from her date with Brad, that we spoke again. She knocked on my door at about half eleven. It was well after curfew, which was probably the safest time to make sure mom and dad wouldn’t catch her.
I had already pleasured myself that evening, just thinking about the previous night—I really wasn’t expecting a repeat experience. I didn’t know anything about the hypnosis or the obsession, I just took her at face value—I figured she’d wanted to learn how a penis worked, and that my demonstration would have satisfied her curiosity.
“Come in,” I said, and she slipped in still wearing her date clothes. Nothing even remotely slutty—wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea!—but with my sister’s body, she could make anything sexy, especially skin-tight jeans and a form-fitting sweater.
The manic look was back. And even though she no longer looked completely fatigued, she still wasn’t all there. Every now and again she’d lose focus in her eyes for a few seconds, and then drift back into alertness. It was weird, but I didn’t really waste any time thinking about it.
I had other things on my mind.
She sat on the end of the bed again. Despite having gone twice that evening already (and, uh, once that morning) just seeing my sister was enough to rouse my penis again.
“I was just wondering...” she started, then paused. I wasn’t giving her anything, and deliberately let the silence stretch on. Her behavior was weirding me out a bit, and I wanted to let her lead the way.
After a full minute had passed, she continued.
“I was just wondering if I could, y’know. Watch you again.” In response to my deliberately blank stare, she rolled her eyes and spelled it out. “I want to watch you masturbate.”
There’s something sexy about watching someone as pure as my sister say ‘masturbate.’ It’s a word that you just don’t expect from someone with a face like hers. If my penis was waking up when she entered the room, it was completely alert and ready to go after hearing her say a dirty word.
“Why? I thought you saw everything you wanted to see last night.”
“Well, yeah.” She paused and thought. Subconsciously, she knew exactly why she wanted to see it again, but her conscious mind had to come up with an excuse, a justification. “But I don’t know if I really saw everything. Is that okay?“
She has a look. Dad calls it the heart-melter; she uses it on him every time that she wants to use the car, and she uses it on boys when she needs a favor, or a date (not that she needs to do much to get a date.)
Anne threw me the heart-melter, which did anything but melt other parts of me. Honestly, I was tempted to see how much she wanted to watch me. But knowing what I did then, I didn’t want to push my luck, just in case she changed her mind.
It was essentially just a repeat of the previous night. I jerked off, she watched—this time she asked a couple of questions, and didn’t jump back when I came—but nothing was majorly different. After I was done, she almost ran out of the room, and I was left puzzled and sticky.
This continued every night for the next 5 or 6 days—every night she would come into my room after curfew, make some weak excuse as to why she had to watch me masturbate, and sat entranced as I did.
It wasn’t until Wednesday, the next week, that she finally summoned up the courage to do more than watch.
It had almost become a routine—I’d wait each night for her knock, and we didn’t even need to discuss it. I’d pull myself out, she’d settle down at the end of my bed...
But this night (I’m pretty sure it was Wednesday, anyway) she touched my arm before I started.
“Could I try it?”
Despite the weirdness of what we were doing, I was still surprised. I mean, watching for educational reasons is one thing, but I was pretty sure that playing with your brother’s cock crossed some kind of line.
“Are you sure?” I asked, and then realized the ridiculousness of what I was asking. Anne didn’t do anything without being sure.
She nodded, and I sat back. I still look back at that as one of the most erotic moments of my life—my sister’s small, cold hand wrapping around my cock, her looking up at me nervously as she stroked it back and forth.
The last week had certainly served its educational purpose—Anne had picked a lot up, and as her hands went to work, I let out a moan without even realizing. She shushed me worriedly and we both broke out in the giggles again.
“How am I doing?” she asked softly, once our muffled laughter had subsided.
I don’t know if you’ve figured it out, but my sister has a pretty big head. Not literally; I mean she’s, like, arrogant. I decided that I wasn’t going to add to that, and so instead of gushing about her skill, I gave her some pointers. She listened intently, and once I was done, started again, incorporating my tips.
At this point, I started to figure that something was up. People don’t just start jerking off their brothers for no reason, y’know? But I didn’t connect it with Brad or anything. The question just quietly sat at the back of my mind, while the rest of me relaxed and enjoyed what is still one of the greatest hand-jobs of my life.
After less than two minutes, I was firing my stuff. Anne looked worried.
“It normally takes longer than that! Did I do it wrong?”
Remembering my earlier resolve, I assured her that she’d get better. She nodded seriously, apologized, thanked me, and left the room.
Even if I hadn’t been taught that gambling was a sin…there were no odds good enough that a week ago, I would have bet on my sister thanking me for letting her jerk me off. Before that night, I would have said it was literally impossible.
This repeated for a few days—she’d let herself into my room, jerk me off, ask for feedback, thank me, and return to her room. A few months later, I couldn’t help but laugh when she showed me the notebook she’d been keeping. Every piece of advice I gave her had been faithfully written down and memorized.
Saturday night, she took it another step forward. At the time—and yes, I know how dumb this sounds—I believed her justifications. Like, some part of my mind was aware that something was going on, but I just didn’t think to question it.
“It makes such a mess, doesn’t it?”
This was the first time Anne had ever spoken while jerking me off. Normally she was completely focussed on my cock, treating it like it was the center of her universe. It was pretty amazing.
I wasn’t really listening. I never told her this, but my sister’s hand-jobs were the greatest thing I’d ever experienced. Better than eating my favorite meal while watching my favorite film with my favorite people. It was possible I was going to hell for having my sister jerk me off nightly, but I would happily have sold my soul just for one more incestuous orgasm.
It’s hard to experience that and hold a conversation at the same time.
“Huh?” I said, and she slowed down slightly to get my full attention.
“It makes a mess, doesn’t it? When you...y’know. Mess.”
“When I cum, Anne.” I corrected. Any advice I gave her about sex she lapped up, and I was trying to get her to talk dirty. Just for the fun of it, really.
“Oh yeah. Sorry. When you cum, when you…spill your seed. It makes a bit of a mess, hey?”
“No, no, it’s fine.” I wasn’t really sure where she was going, and didn’t want her to find an excuse to stop. “I can clean it up, no worries.”
“Oh, okay.” She looked disappointed, but renewed the hand-job with vigor. She’d somehow picked up this trick where she’d use both hands at once, or have one playing with my balls while the other stroked me.
“It’s just, I was thinking...”
“Hmm?”
“If it would be cleaner, I could just, y’know. Swallow it.”
I almost came then and there, but managed to control myself.
“Are...what? Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Anne said, thoughtfully. Her eyes seemed to drift away, but her hands didn’t slow down for a second. “I was just thinking, y’know. It would be cleaner.”
I pretended to think it over.
“Look,” I said, “if you want to. But I don’t want you spitting it out—if you take it in your mouth, you have to swallow it. It’s rude, otherwise.”
My sister nodded. I loved this power she gave me, the way she treated everything I said about sex as if it was straight from the Bible or something. Had I thought of it, I could have told her that you could only do a hand-job while naked; she probably would have gone for it. As it was, I had only seen the outline of her nipples against her PJ top (though I spent a lot of our time together imagining the rest of her.)
So I gave her a few seconds warning before I came, and she put her mouth around my head. The head of my penis, not my head head. The end of my penis.
She put her mouth around my head, and an odd, patient look appeared on her face. The feeling of warmth around my dick was a new one—a hand-job is just like a better type of masturbation, but having someone put their mouth on you was a whole different thing.
I accidentally thrusted forward as I came, but she adjusted and took half my cock in her mouth without complaint. Her nose curled in disgust as my seed entered her mouth, but as promised, she swallowed it all down.
“Thanks, Brodie.” I just nodded in response—I always found myself getting super quiet right after I came—and she left the room.
I remember the next night was a date night, so it was getting close to midnight when she snuck into my room. Just as I was so sure that she wouldn’t return on that second night, it was now a guarantee that she would be there, every night, ready to jerk me off.
This time, there were no words. She came in, I took myself out, and she jerked me off until I came. This time, she could tell when I was about to come though, and again that patient look appeared on her face and she put her mouth around me.
Even once I’d learned about the hypnosis, it took me almost six months before I put two and two together. That night must have been about enjoying the taste of cum, craving it, because when I spurted into her mouth, there was no look of disgust.
Instead, there was a look...you know how a cat looks when it’s really proud of itself? Or no, actually, a cat when you give it a bowl of great cat food, or a fish or something. You know how a cat looks both satisfied and proud, like it has somehow earned the fish? That’s the best way I can describe the look on Anne’s face.
I came, and she looked simultaneously happy, satisfied, proud of herself, and...content. Blissful, like all her dreams had come true. Without saying anything, she leaned over and kissed me on the mouth—just a peck—and quietly left the room.
I don’t know if it was the silence, or the look of satisfaction on her face, or even the kiss, but for the first time, Anne left me needing to jerk off straight after one of her visits.