Jacking & Jilling - A Sister's Lust
Chapter 2
Sally sees her brother Billy jacking off outside, and watches from her room as she masturbates, too. Later, he unintentionally walks in on her, naked on her bed and getting herself off, leaving both embarrassed and hornier. The next day, she spies on him jacking off in their shared bathroom. Finally, outside in the neighbors' yard, she guiltily confesses to watching him, admitting she found it sexy and it made her want to see him do it again. Surprising them both, she strips, coaxing him to follow suit, he jacks off for her, and she helps him finish. Later, before their mother comes home, she joins Billy in the shower and gives him another handjob.
That weekend and most of the next week were unsettling and weird for Sally, almost certainly for Billy, but they never discussed it. Instead, they traded furtive, not quite longing glances when they were sure Dottie wasn't looking. Their mother was uncomfortable enough with her two offspring being sexually active, and had probably breathed a maternal sigh of relief that neither was dating right now.
Her relief would have been extinguished utterly if she ever learned the two of them were being very discreet and very naughty under her roof with each other, or at all.
Sally's showers were longer than before, and a couple of times she aimed the handheld jet right at her pussy, changed the jet to vibrating needles of hot water. It was always after shampooing her hair when she used conditioner, which had to sit in her hair for at least a couple of minutes, the perfect interval for what she needed.
She lay back in the tub both times, calves on the edge of the tub, knees drawn up to her breasts, spraying the pulsing jets of water all over her twat before focusing on her lonely clit. Once she turned it there, she could reliably experience another climax, and stopped both times at three. She wanted more, but had to at some point go to the diner, earn money so she could come home and shower again...
Standing and rinsing the conditioner from her hair, Sally wished it had to stay in longer, maybe a week that she could spend just cumming and cumming, not a care in the world, lie there satisfied for a long, long time, then starting down the road again.
If Billy noticed her showers lasting longer, or happened to try a clandestine peek at her playing in the tub, she didn't have any clue, but would have welcomed his company, or his fingers, at least.
I'm still so horny,
she complained to herself, not wanting to whine, especially not to Billy after watching him cum in front of and on her.
So they said nothing, did nothing that whole week. Billy's door and the doors to the bathroom were shut firmly when he was in there, and she heard no indication he was getting himself off at night or any other time.
As the week progressed, Sally's arousal rose to ever newer heights, distracting and evilly scraping across her raw nerves. She ached for the gentle touch of fingers or tongue or cock anywhere on her body, but kept her cravings to herself. It wasn't clear whether Billy felt the same thing, or if he was pursuing the same remedy, but it wouldn't have surprised her at all.
Sleeping or waking, Billy's moaning ejaculations were always on her mind.
********
Wednesday night, she realized she had to talk to someone, had to talk to Billy, the only person who could empathize with her particular torment and share that awful secret. It was nearly three a.m., and she'd slept very little, hot and aroused, her shirt conspiring to tickle her nipples every time she moved or shifted in bed, waking her with infuriating regularity. Right now, her nipples were erect, hard, and she palmed her breasts, kneading them for several minutes, but there was no help for it.
Levering herself out of bed, Sally crept through their Jack & Jill bathroom to see what he was thinking about their...activity, if anything. It wasn't clear to her what effect their play was having on him, but she knew men well enough that it wouldn't have surprised her if it was doing the same thing to him.
The door to his room was ajar, and she approached it stealthily, keeping the bathroom light off so he couldn't tell she was there, not waking him if he were sleeping. The wan yellow glow of their nightlight was sufficient for her to make her way to his door and listen. He wasn't asleep.
She heard Billy moving, the soft rhythm of his hand on his cock, rubbing it, obviously in need of more touching and sucking and fucking too. The springs of his bed creaked faintly in time to his strokes, and, heart thundering in her chest, she found herself drawn to listen, almost bold enough to push the door aside and stand there openly watching him again.
Not seeing him was almost as titillating as being able to watch his hand stroking his hard-on, his naked, muscular body on top of the sheets, sweaty and heaving as he worked himself to an orgasm. He sped up, the friction louder now, and Sally squatted in front of the door. Gingerly, she reached a finger between her legs, insinuated it into her shorts, under her panties, and stifled a moan as she discovered she was moist, almost dripping. Without hesitation, she quietly pushed her finger inside, feeling the hot, wet hole that remained unfilled, untouched by another, for so long.
"Oh, fuck..." His voice was clear but quiet, straining against the stillness in the upstairs. The tempo of the springs changed, slightly quicker, more distinct, as if he'd shifted to second gear before stepping on the gas, down to the floorboards, almost covering the ragged gasps announcing his onrushing orgasm.
Her pussy was throbbing, wet, and she pushed her own rising moans down hard, not willing to betray her presence, or the fact she was masturbating just out of his sight, hearing him perform his act of solo pleasuring. She sent a second finger to join the first, rubbing and thrusting inside, her clit quivering restively, wanting more that she couldn't have.
Unless I walk in and throw myself at him, make him
make
me cum.
The thought alone aroused her more than she had been in weeks, even with watching him unload in the backyard, then on her belly and legs.
Billy's springs creaked faster and faster, and she was suddenly afraid her mother would hear and come upstairs, catch him jacking off and scold him for touching himself, then discover her daughter right there listening, two fingers penetrating her crotch, cumming at the same time like they were really fucking and his dick was in her, pounding her pussy, filling her and asking if he was doing it alright for her and she couldn't answer because she was about to cum, they both were...
Sally's mouth opened in a silent scream, her eyes screwed shut. She barely held back the moan she wanted to voice, wanting to let her brother know she had listened, had heard, wanted to join him, let him see
her
getting off, let him see what she felt her every time she'd watched him please his cock without her help. All she managed was a soft exhalation, and she heard the words accompanying his masculine groan and the first spurt between his fingers, hot and sticky.
"Fuck, Sally..."
Her eyes widened and she stood, still awkwardly fingering herself. She was deeply gratified by his whispering her name when he came, and at the same time very nervous about the effect she had on him. Standing and hunched over, she crept quickly back into her room, fingers still inside her pussy. She slid her door closed but didn't latch it, then slipped soundlessly back into bed.
There was a muted
click
, and the sudden illumination of their bathroom light threw a brilliant wedge of light under her door, and a thin sliver from floor to ceiling. She heard him run water over his hands and wash them, cleaning up after his ejaculation.
She almost got out of bed to confront him, but decided it wasn't the time.
Not tonight, or I'm so scared we'll do more, do it all...
She fell asleep within minutes, fingers still nestled at her crotch.
********
Over dinner on Thursday evening, Dottie sat them both down to talk. Sally's tummy was doing flip-flops as her mother regarded them both seriously, even though she knew her mother
couldn't
have known, and would never have spoken to them together about anything she knew or suspected about their indiscretions.
