Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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My sister was a princess - stuck up, mostly mean to me, yet somehow she always had money.
She said she earned her money from the dog washing service she ran from the basement of our three story Chicago greystone. No one in our family ever went down there, it was just storage, old furniture, a utility sink, and a lone shower head over a drain in the floor. But she had much more money than one would expect from her modest little endeavor.
Still, apparently she took that showerhead, which didn't even have walls, and turned it into a thriving business.
So one day I overheard her on the horn telling her girlfriend that she wanted to go to a big wingding. She'd saved up plenty of money but she was reluctant because she might lose her regular customers.
That night I told her I would take care of her customers for her. Not that I wanted to help my sister, but because I had no money and I was about as doll-dizzy as a beat Joe can get.
How hard could it be? She thought about it all evening, but finally, with an evil grin, she agreed saying, "OK crumb. You can do it."
She explained that I would need to sit out on the front step all Saturday next to her sign and I better not make her clients unhappy - or else!
It was a hot Saturday but I sat in the sun next to her placard which read "D-wash", and had a picture of a happy dog licking a bone. She made it clear I was never to accept less than $2.
Now in those days that was a fortune. I mean, a haircut was twenty-five cents, and a movie was fifteen cents. But it explained how she was always swimming in dough. What I didn't understand was why anyone would pay that much for a dog wash.
The first customer was a huge hulking black man, seven feet tall if he was an inch, with a barrel chest and muscles everywhere.
He was surprised when he first saw me, "Where's Delilah?" He said. (It's not her given name but it's the closest American translation.)
I explained how she took the day off but I would do a good job. Looking me over he drawled, "Wellll, Ah gotta dirty dog. Are you an active duty gent," here he eyed me suspiciously, "or are you hiding a buzzer?"
I answered with my best sales pitch, "We just live here. If your dog needs a wash I'm your man."
He spun on his heels heading around to the back entrance and down our stairs, clearly being familiar with the steps.
I followed, dismayed that he hadn't gone home first since he didn't have his dog with him.
Once in the basement he shocked me by stripping naked and standing under the shower head, "Come here white boy. My D's ready for you." I resented the use of the word 'boy' since I was eighteen and white. But I guess crusting me was the point.
Seeing his nudity, first I was struck by how handsome he was, I bet he was very popular with the dames. Then, I suddenly understood everything - my sister's abundance of wealth and that there was no dog.
Despite his good looks, he looked mean and strong, and his "D" was thick and ugly - I supposed it was dirty too.
There was no way I could refuse to wash his dick as they would both be unhappy with me. I didn't know who I feared more.
I spied a washcloth and a bar of soap in the sink. Steeling myself I worked up a lather in my palms then with shaking hands reached out to hide his nasty member beneath a mass of bubbles.
I was glad not to see the large black log anymore. Only now I actually felt the thickening beast, all slippery and horribly snake-like slithering among my fingers.
His pubic hair was coarse and wiry even when wet. His giblets were like two large orbs which seemed to me to fill both my hands. Only the promise of a whole two dollars made touching it worthwhile.
With a handful of this man's black organs I pictured my sister kneeling there. And just like my shirt was getting wet I imagined her in a wet blouse. She was a prissy bitch but she was also hot and the thought of her doing this gave me an instant throbber.
Really, all I knew was that I wanted to see her knockers. Mary McAvoy had let me touch hers once and I was obsessed with them, all breasts, ever since.
The big black man looked at my embarrassing predicament and chuckled. I think he thought I was hard for him.
Then he added, "You're gonna wanna get under the foreskin. You know, the cheese." I didn't know, but I figured out how to wash in there anyway.
Everything seemed squeaky clean so I guessed it would be time to rinse him off, dry it all, and collect my wages.
After rinsing it I handed him a towel but he kept his hands on his hips making it clear he expected me to do it.
I dried his hard body from head to ankles. I dried it last, swabbing it gently, getting all the moisture from all the nooks and crannies. It poked out much larger and more menacing now. I didn't know pricks got that big - it was only half hard and already the distance from base to tip was the same as from my wrist to my fingertips.
Of course I knew pricks got hard, and I knew they made wives pregnant, and I knew they gave you wet dreams. But that's about all I knew. Blame it on my only being in the country for a couple years now.
Satisfied that it was all dry I started to rise from my kneeling position only to be held there by huge paws on my shoulders, and arms that were as strong as iron bars.
Looking up to see what he was thinking, I was met by cold dark eyes. "You're not going anywhere until the blow job's done."
I had no clue what he meant. Believe it or not, at that time I didn't even know what a blowjob was. Again, probably due to my broken English. It's not like actual blowing is in any way related to felatio.
Staring down at me he commanded, "Open your mouth." Of course, I did. I just didn't know why.
Moving his hands from my shoulders to my head he took hold of it like it was a small basketball in the star players gargantuan grip.
I didn't know to be scared or repulsed or even what he intended. But without warning he drew me in until that half-hard black hose plugged my mouth.
If it looked and felt large in my hands it felt enormous inside me. I held my jaw wide open afraid to close my lips upon his skin. We stayed there for a few moments, with nothing happening until he said, "You gotta suck it." Then added, "And no teeth."
His words barely registered, but I sucked at it inexpertly, like a straw in a malt.
