The next day I sat down at the breakfast table with Chloe and our parents. My mind had cleared after cumming the night before, and I finally realized what it was that I really did.
It was one thing, I told myself, for me to rub my sister's feet, to get a hard on from it, even to enjoy it. But it was another to be actively jerking off while looking at her. I decided I'd push the memory out of my head. I'd pretend it never happened. If I acted like it never happened, Chloe would too, and we could just forget about it.
But Chloe, apparently, didn't want to act like it never happened. She didn't want to forget about it. Instead, apparently, she was going on an all out attack to humiliate me.
I reached for the cereal and poured myself a small bowl, still tired from staying up late the night before, thinking about and reliving what had happened. I set the box down, and went to take a bite—
"I'll have some too," Chloe said. She was sitting next to me at the small round breakfast table, still in her pj's, which consisted of the red cotton shorts she used to wear in high school gym class, and a white tank top.
"It's right there," I said, pointing to the cereal box with my spoon.
Chloe laced her fingers together and rested her cheek in the hammock that her hands made. It was an innocent gesture that, in the morning, before her makeup or hairstyling, made her look even younger.
"You do it," she said, bluntly.
I looked up at Chloe from my bowl. She was staring at me, but not innocently. A vague, barely noticeable, arrogant smile was haunting her lips.
"What?" I asked.
"You do it," she again demanded. "Pour my cereal for me. Now."
I looked over at our parents who, fortunately, had not yet picked up on this slightly odd conversation. Our father was mostly hidden behind a newspaper—he alone perhaps the only father left who still kept this morning stereotype alive—and our mother was gazing sleepily at the early sun coming in from the kitchen window.
"What?" I asked again.
Not hesitating now, Chloe leaned back in her chair and hoisted her legs up, resting her feet on my lap.
" . . . What are you doing?" I muttered.
"Those are thin pajama pants you have on," she said. "You better control yourself, or everyone will see you getting hard from my feet." She didn't even try to keep her voice down. I shot another quick glance at our parents, both of whom hadn't bothered to listen and didn't react to what Chloe just said. She then started to rock her ankles, never breaking her stare as the motion of her heals cause them to repeatedly brushed up against my balls.
"Stop it," I muttered.
"Then do what I say," Chloe answered. "You're always going to do what I say from now on."
Out of principal, I didn't want to obey her, to make her think or let her know she had some kind of power over me. But she was right. My cock was already stiffening in my flannel pajama pants, and before I could stop it, I had a fully engorged and throbbing hard on.
"Fine!" I hissed, and dumped some cereal into her bowl. The forcefulness of my action caused some sugary, colorful grains of cereal to spill over the brim of Chloe's bowl, and for our mother to take notice from her sleepy gaze to snap at me: "Careful!"
"Milk," Chloe then said.
I picked up the carton. Of course it was empty.
"Milk," Chloe said again, with a little less patience this time.
"I can't get it now," I leaned in and answered under my breath. I gestured with my head down to my cock, which was still standing on end next to Chloe's naked feet.