My Master Down the Hall

In every part of your life—a relationship, a friendship, a job, whatever—there's a single best moment, the climax (stop giggling!) of the whole experience. It's that one point where everything is as good as it's going to get, and nothing is ever quite the same after that. The thing is, you never really know what that moment is until its gone. That's what I'm talking about today.

Sorry, it's me, Rose, again. I guess it's been a while, so I'll try to catch you up in a super-quick way in case you forgot all the scandalous details. Thrilling life experience number one: gave my gorgeous stud of a step-brother head in the cab of his pick-up. Then we became a "couple," by which I mean he let me give him a ton more blowjobs (and more!). Since we're, like, semi-related and all, we tried to throw our parents off the trail by pretend-dating our friends, Andrew and Natalie. When Gabe took my virginity at Christmas, though, Mom found out, though thankfully she didn't freak.

OK—I think you're all caught up now.

I'm not going to start with that perfect, best day I was talking about. Nope, I'm starting with the day before, when I was sitting with my best friend Natalie, trying and probably failing to describe to her what sex was like.

"Does it hurt?"

"Ummm...yeah, but it's a good kind of hurt. And it hurts less and less each time," I assured her.

She seemed to be turning over the idea of "good pain" in her head.

"Is it hard?" she asked. "Like, do you need to be really...bendy?"

I giggled a little.

"It depends. Like, there's lots of ways to do it, you know, positions. The bendier you are, the more you can do."

"Do guys...I mean, I guess, does Gabe want you to do lots of positions?"

"I'm pretty flexible, so, well, yeah. But that's not just for him, either. I like the different feelings."

I could tell Natalie was afraid she'd lack the "skill" to have sex. Maybe my answers weren't helping her.

"Don't worry about that stuff at first, though," I promised her. "A guy will be thrilled to get a chance to de-virginize you. He won't expect you to pull any crazy porn star moves or anything. I mean, he might even like it that you don't totally know what you're doing, so he can show you."

If this would have been some other person, you'd say she was acting really shy, but for Natalie, this was pretty out there, like take charge behavior. It was kind of cool, actually.

"Well, it probably won't happen for a while," she said, sounding a little dejected.

I thought for a second, before realizing what she was saying between the lines.

"You want to do it, don't you?"

She looked panicked.

"I would never—I mean, with Gabe."

"No, of course not. I just meant...you wish you had...ummm...your own Gabe, right?"

She looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. I wanted to help her get out of her shell, but I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah...but what guy in school would do it with me?"

Like, most of them

, I thought.

"Guys will totally fall for you if they think—if they think they have a chance. No offense, but right now, guys probably think you have no interest in sex or even dating, because you're, like, shy. I was too before Gabe," I assured her.

I let her think about that for a while, while we aimlessly flipped through magazines together.

"What do, you know,

thingies

look like?" she asked under her breath.

Keep in mind this is an eighteen-year-old

woman

with an internet connection at home.

"You've really never seen one in porn or anything?"

Natalie always made me feel way more experienced and savvy.

"I'm too nervous to look at that stuff," she said, with a weird kind of giddy nervous energy. "Even though I do, you know, want to see one."

"Anyone in mind?" I said in my most cloying voice.

She turned super red.

"Not Gabe! I promise."

"I know, I get it! We'll just need to find you a thingie to look at. Maybe even more than that," I said, tickling her sides and rolling across the floor with her.

"Natalie?"

"Yeah?"

"Say the word 'cock.'"

She looked puzzled.

"Why?"

"Because you should. It's part of your, like, practice."

Under her breath, like she was reciting some magic word, she spoke: "Cock."

"Good job. Now tell me—no, admit to me—that you would really like to suck a big cock."

I was teasing her a little, but in my own way I was trying to help her. She looked at me pleadingly, hoping I might break out laughing and free from the embarrassment of doing what I told her to do.

"Honey, look at me," I said, slipping into the role of cool, experienced slut that I was finding more and more enjoyable when I was around her. "I know what you want, and you know what you want. It will make things so much easier for you if you can just admit it."

She looked up at me.

"I really do. I want to suck a big...cock. And...I want it—I mean the guy—to, you know...put it in me. I want it a lot."

Guys, don't let your imaginations run wild here. We are not about to start scissoring here.

I've told you all before that Natalie could have been cute with a little work, only she herself would have had no idea what kind of work she needed. In different circumstances, I'd have really tried to build her confidence up, so she could get busy with her boyfriend. Only, her "boyfriend" was

my

boyfriend, Gabe. I like to think I'm a nice person, but I'm not

that

nice, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let her play around with Gabe's cock.

I started looking her over, though. I'm not going to give you precise measurements or a full-on description of her tits, because, hello, I don't know that stuff. I will say she had...potential: long, thick, curly brown hair that could use some hair treatment stuff to tame it, nice, full lips with a nice natural color, since she didn't wear lipstick ever, a good smile thanks to the orthodontist, though most guys never saw it.

Compared to me, she had a longer face, not cute and heart-shaped but more elegant and graceful. She was also taller than me, and looked older and more mature, if she would get out of the hand-me-down clothes she wore. It wasn't that she couldn't afford better stuff, either, just that she never seemed to try. She didn't want to stand out.

Natalie wasn't super skinny, but not fat either. Her body was more feminine than mine. (I hate hate hate having a body like a little girl.) All in all, with a little work, she could be at least as hot as some of the girls that guys in school tripped over themselves to ask out on dates. Her issues weren't physical; they were emotional.

"Natalie, you're totally hot," I told her.

"You're just saying that. Pretty much nobody else thinks that," she replied.

"No, really," I reassured her. "You just need to show that hair of yours that you're in charge. And maybe a few new outfits from this century"

I realize that "make-over" is a totally cliché way to try to transform the shy girl in glasses and paint-spattered overalls into a total high school hottie. Only, in this case, it was meant to be a lot more than that.

My mom had known about Gabe and me for almost three months by this point. That was three months of holding hands, three months of passionate kisses, three (more) months of swallowing Gabe's cum, three months of secret, mind-blowing sex, and two months of getting tied up and spanked, too. Meanwhile, our dad didn't have a freaking clue.

To me, that meant we could drop the whole charade of pretend boyfriends and girlfriends. Gabe didn't need Natalie, I didn't need Andrew. My hope was that her experience with Gabe would give Natalie more confidence with guys. As for Andrew, I had never really understood why he went out with me, and I wasn't worried about his feelings too much. As it turned out, that was a huge fucking mistake that I can see clearly in hindsight.

At the time, though, break-ups seemed like the best thing for all of us. Natalie would be back on the market, fresh out of a relationship with the hottest guy in school (I'm biased), and ready to go on actual dates with actual romantic prospects.

"I've got a great idea," I told her. "Sleep over tonight. We'll go to school together tomorrow morning, and I'll totally dress you up and stuff. You're going to look so hot, and when guys see you, they'll have to roll up their tongues like in cartoons."

"But I'm with Gabe," she objected. "I mean, that's what they all think."

"Yeah, about that..."

***

"Looks like 'slut' was on sale at Goodwill."

I remember the nasty thing Ashley said to Natalie just as much as all the shit she ever said to me. She'd treated me like human garbage throughout middle school, right when I most needed to build up my confidence. And now, when Natalie was just trying to look pretty and meet guys for the first time, she was there to tear her down, too.

Only, when she said things like that to me, I just...took it. Now, when she said it to someone else, a friend, who had never done anything malicious or selfish towards anyone in her whole life, I was just sick of it. The weird thing is, I was, like, immune. Everybody knew that Ashley totally crushed on Gabe; I guess that's why she was out to get Natalie.

People thought they were dating; now they heard they'd "broken up." I guess in a fucked-up way, dressing Natalie up the day she no longer had a boyfriend (even a fake one) might have sent the wrong message to the slut police who tell girls what they should or shouldn't do. To me, I think you have to be a pretty shitty person to try to tear down a harmless, sweet girl like her.

Natalie surprised me. She didn't cry like I would have. She was tougher than I gave her credit for. Maybe she was just so sick of being ignored that she could take a little hate from a jealous bitch like Ashley Moore because, let's not lie, she did look hot.

My mom had even pitched in on getting her ready today. We used a straightening iron to flatten out her hair—it wasn't totally straight, but the unruly curls had turned into a really nice soft wave in her hair, which looked awesome. I admit that the outfit of mine she was wearing was a little too small, but she didn't look a hooker or anything. She looked hot, and the maroon cotton dress she was wearing was a little long on me, so it was lower thigh on her, just right I thought. I guess if there was any problem, it was that Natalie had bigger boobs than me (not that surprising, I guess).

I'd love to say that I came up with a brilliant yet simple plan to get revenge at the bitch who was laughing with her stupid friends about how big a whore my virginal best friend was. What I actually did was find Gabe and beg him to do something about it. I mean, he had all the leverage as I saw it. Ashley was in love with him, and that gave him a lot of power over her. He had that power over me too, of course, and I knew that a harsh word to me (and I don't mean things I liked, like calling me his "personal slut") would really wound.

Only he didn't march over to their table and bitch slap Ashley. Instead, he...sauntered. Like, really smooth and sexy. And whispered to her. And she giggled.

Bitch

.

When Gabe caught back up with me, he had the most deliciously evil grin. He gave a little sidelong glance to make sure no one could hear us.

"When I show you what I did tonight, you're gonna beg me to stick my cock in your ass," he whispered in my ear. "I guarantee it."

What's that old saying? He had a spring in his step. I mean, he was just totally floating on air. Meanwhile, I was sitting there thinking, "what the fuck did he do?" I was dying to find out how he had set her up on such short notice. I started to wonder what kind of dark stuff was hidden in my sweet, kind, but totally dominant brother's dirty mind.

Have I mentioned that I was also a total anal virgin, too?

No fingers, tongues, toys—and definitely no cocks. The whole rest of the day in school, I couldn't pay attention to class. That might seem like a pretty normal thing, but I actually

like

classes, at least the ones not taught by coaches. I just kept wondering what Gabe had done.

I daydreamed through the lesson on Dubliners, the one on Reagan's foreign policy, and the one conjugating the subjunctive one and two in my German class. That I even remember what the classes were about just shows what a big geek I was (OK, I won't lie: still am).

It was even worse in the car on the way home. Since Natalie slept over the night before, Gabe offered to take her back to our house to get the rest of her stuff before taking her home. That meant riding all the way to our place, then over to Natalie's, before I could ask him exactly what he had told Ashley. The second we were alone together, I begged him to tell me what was going on.

"Do you remember the day when you told me all the things you would do for me?"

I felt more feelings at that moment than I can even describe. When I told Gabe back in the fall all the things he could do to me—including some pretty heavy stuff, like anal, heavy humiliation, and peeing on me—I was desperate. I didn't think I had a chance to be with him, and I would do anything for him. After being with him for months now, I knew I didn't want it to end, either. Now, though, I was as scared as I was turned on.

"Yeah," I said, almost whispering.

"Well, you know and I know that the only reason we haven't gone that far is because I don't want to hurt you or freak you out. But...you know I love you. And there's stuff I want to try, and I hope you'll like it too."

I wanted to tell Gabe that this wasn't answering my question, but whenever sex came up, we both tended to slide effortlessly into our roles: he talked, and I listened. I probably liked it that way even more than he did.

"Well, I'm about to do something today," he continued, "that's either going to make you die laughing, break into tears, or get totally scared of your sick, twisted brother. Maybe all three. So, anyway, when you see what I get, you're gonna flip."

We were barely in the house when he got a text. He didn't look at his phone immediately—instead, he glanced around furtively, apparently making sure our parents weren't around. Then he pulled out his phone and, without looking at it, handed it to me.

"This is going to seem way less cool if it's, like, Wyatt calling to reschedule practice," he said with a smirk. "Who's it from?"

I looked at the screen: text from "The Bitch." I looked up at him for further guidance.

"Open the message," he ordered nonchalantly.

I did.

Holy shit!

The first thing I noticed wasn't Ashley's tits or even her bare pussy. It was the look on her face. It wasn't nervous or even that fake pouty look that most girls put on for selfies. She looked totally horny. She must have wanted Gabe so bad. I guess I can understand.

"How's she look?" he asked, as if we were talking about the weather.

"Ummm, naked," was all I could reply.

"Tits?" he responded.

"Yep—two of them."

That made him laugh. There was this weird part of me that didn't want Gabe to look at Ashley naked, like maybe he'd see her body and lose interest in me. He didn't motion for me to return his phone or anything, so I just kind of stared at the screen. There was the bitch who'd made my life miserable for years, pressing her big tits together and showing off her totally bald cooch for a guy she wasn't even dating. And she'd called me a "slut."

"There should be—"

As if to complete Gabe's sentence for him, another text came in. It got worse—or better, depending on your perspective. This one was from behind: Ashley's hand spread her ass cheeks apart, and you could see her glistening pussy and even her puckered little asshole.

"—a couple more," he finished.

It took a minute before I got another picture. No way was someone taking these for her. That would be bananas. She must have been setting them up. I realized that somewhere across town, this stupid slut was snapping dirty pictures of herself to try to snag my brother—

my

boyfriend—the same day that she had talked shit about my best friend. The shock of seeing another girl naked on Gabe's phone had kept me from seeing it: Gabe's plan to help me get even with her.

The weird little techno-sound-clip-thingie that was Gabe's ringtone played: next message. She was probably cumming right now. In the picture, she had crammed a big dildo into her pussy, and she looked pretty far gone when the picture had taken. I suddenly understood Gabe's power in a new way. It felt good to know that he had made her this way, but I wondered how far he was going to go using these pictures. I felt a little guilty, but a lot turned on. There was even a weird part of my brain that thought it would be cool to, like, whip her bare ass. Maybe I've got a secret domme inside me, at least for girls I don't like.

"Does this girl not know about Snapchat?" I asked condescendingly.

"Oh, she suggested it, so the pics would go away. I told her 'no way,'" he replied shaking his head. "The deal was that I'd go out with her if I liked the pics she sent."

What?

"You're not serious, are you? Like, you're not going go, right?"

"Rosie," he said, lowering his voice, "do you like the pictures?"

I didn't know what to say. I'd learned a long time ago that when Gabe asked me questions, he didn't want me to try to give him the answer he "wanted." I always tried to be honest with him.

"She's really pretty."

"What's pretty about her?"

He must have known this was torture for me, but exactly the kind of torture that made my pussy wet.

"She has nice tits. They're...they've got a good shape. And her hair is pretty."

Gabe smiled.

"If she was naked in front of you right now, what would you want to do to her?"

This time, I didn't hesitate.

"I'd want to spank her slutty ass until it was red," I said, my eyes at the floor. "And...I'd make her watch you fuck me, but she wouldn't be allowed to touch you."

I could see Gabe's cock growing in his pants. He made this little head-turning motion, and I knew without words that it was time to go up to his room. I started to walk up there, but he held my shoulder back.

"I think you should crawl upstairs," he said.

This wasn't something I'd done before—I mean going all the way upstairs. It was kind of hard, actually, especially considering how Gabe kept stroking my ass and rubbing between my legs as I tried to navigate the stairwell.

Crawling on the floor, with Gabe behind me, was getting me hot, but having to tell him how sexy I thought my worst enemy looked was humiliating. I wonder what it's like for girls who don't get off on this sort of thing. For me, it made me desperate for Gabe's cock. Whenever he wound me up like this, it made it that much better when I could finally get it in my mouth.

"What if I had a different idea?" he asked, as I reached the top of the stairwell and turned down the hall. "What if I brought her over here and told you to lick her pussy?"

I focused on crawling, my eyes locked on the ground in front of me.

"Then I would lick her pussy until you told me to stop."

"And what if I fucked her right in front of you and told you to suck my cum out of her cunt?"

"Then I would try to get every last drop," I said, fighting the urge to tear up.

"And what if I did that every single day?"

We finally reached Gabe's room. I turned to look at him standing over me, my ass still in the air, open to his probing hands. Our eyes met.

"Then I'd die."

Gabe got out his phone and handed it back to me. Once again I was confronted with the naked pictures of the slut who wanted to steal my man.

"Write her back," he said.

I got up onto my knees, just inside the doorway, as he came inside and sat on the bed.

"What am I supposed to say?"