One Blissful Night

I was frustrated. I had been dating Sandra for three months, and while she gave it up like a hooker at a Shriner's convention, she absolutely refused to fill her mouth with my dick. She had told me how, one time, she had been all but forced by a friend of her brother's to suck him off. He had been crude and rough and had not warned her when he was about to shoot, making her gag on his spurting load. The experience turned her off so completely that she never wanted to suck another cock for the rest of her life.

Maybe it would not have been such a big deal, since Sandra was a luscious brunette beauty with big natural tits and a tight little honey pot, but I had been spoiled by an orally-addicted former girlfriend who preferred my dick in her mouth to in her pussy. Not that I wanted Sandra to follow in that vein; all I was asking for was the occasional blow job. Not a big deal, right?

But to Sandra, it was a big deal. Big enough that she had gotten upset with me for even mentioning it again, and cut our date short. She didn't even give me a kiss before stomping up the walk to her house.

It was eight-thirty when I headed home. No, wait, I should clarify: it was

only

eight-thirty, on a

Friday

night. I was morose, despondent, pissed off, and as I already mentioned, frustrated. Not only was I not getting a blow job, but I wasn't getting any pussy, either. And I knew that my buddies were all with their wives or girlfriends, probably getting their share of poontang pie by now.

I got into one of those melancholy moods as I angled my car along the roads toward home. Twenty-three, still in college and with only seventy-two hours under my belt, living at home, waiting tables. I had friends from high school who were well into their careers by that point. Married friends, with kids on the way, homes of their own. Happy friends. Successful friends.

I parked the Dart along the curb before the house, mumbled to myself as I headed up the walk. I jerked open the door, almost slammed it closed. Mom was out of town, as she was every other weekend. She worked for a medical supply company and spent six days a month looking for other markets. Normally, that would have meant bringing Sandra home and letting her stay the night. But not tonight.

I headed to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from my private stash. My eyes narrowed as I realized one of them was gone. "God damn it, Hannah," I cursed under my breath. My kid sister had snaked one of my beers again.

Probably to loosen up before she gave it up,

I thought sourly.

"Bro?"

I was startled to hear my sister's voice from the living room. It was a Friday night; what the hell was she doing home? Hannah never stayed home on the weekends. Since the liberation of her eighteenth birthday, she had taken advantage of her fully legal status and the svelte, toned body she had been graced with. She had a literal crowd of boy-toys that called her day and night. It seemed she was always on her cell, talking to Ricky, or Joe, or Henry, or Stu, or . . . . I didn't know anyone who got as much action as my own sister.

But, then, I had to admit, she was a hottie. Five-seven, well-tanned, with long, straight, natural blonde hair and a model-gorgeous face, my sister was a stunner. I had seen her in bikinis and had to admit that her tight butt, long, toned legs and perky B-cups were damn near perfect.

I grabbed a brew, frowning. "Hannah?"

I came around from the kitchen, looked into the living room. There she sat, Indian-style on the couch, a bowl of sunflower seeds cradled by her legs. All I could see in the way of clothing was a long white T-shirt. Her hair was dark and damp from a recent shower, and her scrubbed face glowed naturally. Hannah rarely wore makeup beyond some eye shadow and a little mascara, but her total lack of face paint made her look like a sweet little sixteen-year-old.

She gave me a sheepish look, glancing to the open bottle before her on the coffee table. "I took one of your beers, Billy," she said. "Sorry. I was gonna leave a couple'a bucks in the case."

I shrugged. My sister was so sweet, I couldn't be mad at her. "It's no big deal," I said, falling into the big recliner across from the couch. Hannah had one of the cable channels on, showing one of those stupid teen movies. Something about a teen-aged porn star that lives next door to a high school geek.

"You okay, bro?" asked Hannah, cracking sunflower seeds. I could never understand my sister's addiction to the things. They seemed to be too much work for such a little reward. But she devoured them by the pound.

I grunted noncommittally, taking a healthy swig of my beer. I stared at the screen, not really watching the movie.

"I thought you were out with Sandra tonight," she said.

I grumbled, gave her a sidelong look. "What about you? You're never home on a Friday night."

She shrugged casually. "Didn't feel like doing nothing," she said. "I even turned off my phone."

That surprised me. "

You

without a cell-phone?" I chided.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "I'm not that bad," she complained. She sighed, cracked another sunflower seed. "I just wanted to be alone. Partying every weekend gets kind'a old after a while, you know?"

I pursed my lips, sipped my beer. "I guess," I said. "You want me to go upstairs?"

Hannah's brow furrowed. She was so blonde that her eyebrows were practically invisible. "Why?"

"Well, you said you wanted to be alone," I said.

Hannah cocked her head. "I meant from everyone else," she said. "You're my bro. I like being around

you

. You don't . . ." she trailed off, scrunching her face as she picked at another seed.

I frowned. Something was bothering my sister. "I don't what?"

She shook her head. "Nothing," she said. She lifted her eyes, sensing that I was looking at her. "Look, I don't wanna talk about it, okay?"

I nodded, feeling a little concern for my kid sister. I respected her as both my sister and a woman, and didn't press the point. "Okay," I said. "Just . . . if you ever wanna talk, I'm here."

Hannah gave me an affectionate smile. "Thanks, Billy. You're so sweet."

I smiled back, and we sat in silence for a while, half-heartedly watching the movie. I was still thinking about Sandra, about how I could have been balls-deep inside her at that very moment, holding her legs wide apart while watching her big tits bounce as I fucked her. But,

noooo

. . . I had to be a jerk and ask for a blow job when I

fucking

knew

she'd rather suck on a broken bottle than my dick.

I was getting hard, thinking about Sandra's luscious, meaty pussy, her little patch of brunette pubes above her clit, her pencil-eraser nipples adorning her firm, globular D-cups.

I should have suggested a tit-fuck

, I thought, berating myself. She let me do that sometimes, and even licked the head of my cock a little if she got turned on enough.

"But you better not blow your wad on my face, Billy,"

she would always warn me.

I was thinking I should head up to my room, pop in one of my porn movies and jack off, just to relieve the pressure. But my sister's voice startled me again.

"You guys have a fight or something?" she asked casually.

I jerked my head toward my sister. Hannah's eyes were on me, flickering back up to my face. I thought for a moment that she had been checking out my crotch. The bulge of my dick was pretty obvious in my well-worn jeans.

"What?" I asked.

Hannah chuckled. "You and Sandra," she said. "Hello? Anybody home? You guys have a fight, or what?"

I sighed. "Yeah, kind'a," I said.

"About what?" she continued.

"Nothing," I said.

Hannah snorted. "It's not 'nothing,' if you're sitting here on a Friday night, watching some lame-ass movie with your sister instead of banging Miss Big Tits," she said with casual bluntness.

I gave her a sour look, chugged the rest of my beer. "I need another drink," I groaned, getting up.

"Oh, so now you're gonna get drunk," lamented Hannah as I headed back to the kitchen.

"I'm not gonna get drunk," I called over my shoulder, popping the top off another beer. I took a big gulp from it.

Okay, maybe I am

, I thought, and grabbed another. "You want another one?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Hannah called back. "Sure, if you're offering," she said, then giggled. "We'll get drunk together."

I went back to the living room with the three beers, plunked one of them down next to my sister's almost-empty bottle. I could not help but glance toward her naked thigh, seeing most of one of her exposed cheeks. I suddenly wondered if my sister was even wearing underwear.

Well, that thought sure as hell didn't help my erection.

I fell back into the recliner, poured beer down my throat. I grimaced at the movie on the TV. "Can we watch something else?"

"Sure," said Hannah, downing the last of her first beer. "

Lifetime

?"

I gave her a sidelong look. "I was thinking

Sci-Fi

," I said.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Please," she groaned, cracking another sunflower seed.

"Well, then what?" I asked, feeling annoyed again. "I'm not watching a chick channel."

My sister huffed, then suddenly smiled mischievously. "Let's order a porno," she suggested, her penny-colored eyes flashing.

I sighed. "I'm not watching a porno with my

sister

," I said. "Especially when I should be getting laid right now."

Hannah gave me a smirking look. "So why aren't you, Billy? How come Sandra's not bouncing her head in your lap right now?" She added a giggle to her question.

I huffed deeply. "Yeah, right, as if she would even do that in the first place," I grumbled dejectedly.

Hannah frowned, a funny smile on her face. "She doesn't blow you?" she asked casually. "Or, she's, like, one of those girls who does it for ten seconds and says that's enough."

I took in, then let out, a deep, heavy breath, staring at the screen. I gulped my beer. The alcohol was beginning to tingle in my limbs and shoulders.

About time

, I thought.

"She . . . she's got this thing about giving head," I finally said. "She had a bad experience with it once, and now she doesn't want to do it."

"You go down on her?" asked Hannah, as comfortable with the topic, it seemed, as if we were chatting about music or our classes.

I laughed sharply. "All the time," I said, surprising myself that I was indulging my sister with this topic. I supposed I just needed to get my thoughts off my chest. "It always gets her off, but if I even mention the B-word, she gets all huffy and shit."

Hannah shook her head. "I don't get that," she said. "Like, there's this girl I know, Maria. Won't suck a dick to save her life, but, oh man, you better be ready to lick her cooch. She thinks her mouth's too good to take a wiener in it, but supposedly, her slice is so fine that a guy can't

earn

his chance to stick it unless he licks it." She finished her statement with a rueful shake of her head as she popped another sunflower seed in her mouth. "Selfish bitch."

I suddenly laughed at my sister's words. Hannah looked up at me, eyes wide as she stared. Then, she started laughing as well. "What's so funny?" she asked, eyes shining.

I laughed a moment longer, shaking my head. "You," I said. "You look like little Miss Bubbly Cheerleader, but you talk like a guest on Jerry Springer."

Hannah's slender body shook as she laughed, her round little tits bouncing under her shirt. "I always kind'a figured that was a good thing," she said.

I sighed, took a swig of beer. "I mean, I like her and all, but . . . I just can't get past it. I'm starting to feel like a jerk for even wanting her to do that."

"You're not a jerk," my sister said emphatically. "Hell, I wish the guys I go out with were as sweet as you. I see you with Sandra, how you open doors for her and hold her hand and give her roses and shit. And if you're munching her carpet, she

should

return the favor and give you a hummer."

"I wish she thought like that," I lamented.

Hannah was quiet a long moment. "So she doesn't even do it as foreplay?" she asked at last.

I shook my head, watching the stupid movie. "She'll lick it a little – just a

little

– if I bang her tits, but that's about it. And she only lets me do that once in a blue moon."

"See, that just doesn't make sense," my sister said. "I mean, if I got a guy doing my tits, I'm sure as hell gonna suck it."

I looked to Hannah, imagining her with a guy straddling her chest and squeezing her firm B-cups around his pumping cock, pushing it into her mouth and feeling her full, soft pink lips wrapped around it . . . the image made my own penis twitch.

"I should have her talk to you," I said, trying to fight down my growing arousal.

Hannah responded quickly. "Hey, I'll show her all the tricks," she said readily. She giggled, then fell silent again for a moment as she cracked open sunflower seeds. "So that's it?" she asked. "She won't blow you? Just 'cause she had one bad experience?"

I nodded. "Pretty much."

"Then I

should

talk to her," she said. "I mean, I've had some good times and some bad times doing suck-jobs. It ain't always hot. Hell, this one guy tried to stuff the whole thing down my throat right away—"

I winced, interrupting my sister. I really did not need to hear details about her cocksucking adventures. "Hannah, please."

Hannah stopped, and I sensed she was staring at me. I turned my head, met her gaze. She had that mischievous smile on her face again. She chuckled softly.

"Damn, it's really that bad, isn't it? You were really looking forward to it, huh? 'Course, it's pretty obvious."

I frowned. "Hey, I'm not selfish," I said defensively.

Hannah laughed again, and she gestured casually with her hand, indicating my crotch. "No, I mean,

it's

pretty obvious. You've had some serious wood going ever since you got home."

I blushed deeply, and crossed my legs, hiding my bulge. But no matter what I did, the damn thing just wouldn't go away . . . of course, talking about cocksucking and tit-fucking with my pretty sister was not helping matters any.

"Hey, uh, if you need to relieve the pressure, I won't mind if you went up to your room for a little bit and—"

I grimaced. "Hannah!"

"What?" she said, laughing. "Like you don't freakin' jack off every day! I know you do! Hell, I've seen you do it!"

I stared in shock at my kid sister. "What?"

Her body shuddered as she laughed. "You gotta remember to lock your door, bro," she said. "Hell, one time, I just about walked right in on you, and there you were, big dick and all, just pounding away! You didn't even know I was there! God damn, no matter Sandra don't wanna suck you! You'd choke her on that thing!"

I stared, astounded, dumfounded. My own sister had watched me masturbate? I felt my cheeks redden deeply.

"Hey, it ain't no big thing," my sister said, then giggled. "Well, in your case, it

is

a big thing. Jesus Christ, Billy, how'd you get such a big wiener?"

I fell silent, trying to will the blush of my embarrassment away. It wasn't working.

Hannah giggled again, evidently enjoying the torture she was putting me through. "Hey, Billy, look away a sec," she said abruptly.

"Why?" I asked.

My sister gave me a look. "'Cause . . . I gotta use the bathroom, and . . . ." she trailed off. Now she was blushing.

"And what?"

Hannah huffed. "And I'm not wearing anything, okay? Undies, I mean," she said. "So, just . . . look away."

I breathed in, unable to quell the sense of arousal I felt as I realized that Hannah was, indeed, naked under her shirt. I acquiesced to her request, tilting my head to the wall. I heard Hannah move on the couch, the sound of her bowl of sunflower seeds being placed on the glass-topped coffee table. Then her feet as she padded to the downstairs bathroom.

I turned my head back, looking over my shoulder as Hannah disappeared around the corner of the hall. Her long shirt barely graced the bottoms of her firm cheeks. My cock throbbed at the idea of Hannah's modesty being so flimsily protected.

I eased back in the recliner, and glanced to the bowl of sunflower seeds. I thought about how she had been cradling it in her lap . . . her naked lap.

On impulse, I rolled from the chair and leaned over the coffee table. On one side of the bowl of sunflower seeds, there was a slight, glistening smear. I lowered my face, sniffed. Oh, yeah, I could smell it. My sister's sweet, spicy pussy. Not thinking about what I was doing, I wiped my fingers up the side of the bowl, feeling some slickness. I quickly tucked my fingers in my mouth. I could taste my sister's pussy. It was sharp and sweet and damn good.

I felt a sudden moment's revulsion.

That's your sister your tasting! Your fucking sister! Doesn't matter how good she tastes . . . even if she tastes so fucking good . . . .

I settled back in the chair, the flavor of Hannah's sweet cunt lingering on my tongue. I drank some more beer, but I could still taste her. I wanted to jack off more than ever, but something kept me where I was.

I faintly heard the toilet flush, and Hannah returned, her naked feet slapping on the tile in the kitchen. Unexpectedly, she bent over beside me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Look the other way, Billy," she whispered.

I sighed, turning my head. I heard her flop back on the couch, waited a moment, then looked back. She had resumed the same position, bowl of sunflower seeds in her lap, her legs wrapped around it. She gave me a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," she said simply.

I found myself laughing softly. "Why aren't you wearing underwear?" I asked.

Hannah shrugged as she dug in her bowl. "I don't like panties," she said. "Most of the time, I don't wear any. I don't know. Guess I'm weird that way."

I gave her a curious look. Again, my erection wasn't abating. It pulsed against the denim that encased it. Like my sister, I rarely wore underwear. "A lot of guys would think that's hot," I said.

My sister chuckled, gave me a knowing look. "You're right," she said meaningfully, with a wicked arch of her pencil-line brow. Her brown eyes glowed. I suddenly thought about a time, a few months before, when I had taken Hannah shopping. She had worn a tight little skirt that day, and on the way out to the car, me with my arms full of bags and Hannah carrying just her purse, I spied a dollar bill on the ground. Now I understood why she had refused to bend over and pick it up.

I shook my head in wonder, finished my second beer.

My sister, the kinkster

, I thought. I twisted off the cap of my third beer.

My sister suddenly laughed. "You know, I really think you should go take care of that," she said. I glanced to her, saw her eyes lingering on my crotch. She sipped her own beer.

"Yeah, right," I said. "I'm gonna go upstairs and jack off, with you knowing what I'm doing.

And

, knowing you've watched me do it! I couldn't get off if I fucking tried."

Hannah giggled. "Oh, really? Looks to me like that thing's about ready to explode."

I groaned. "Can we change the subject?"

"Why?" asked Hannah with an impish laugh. "You embarrassed about sportin' wood around your sister?"

I glared at her. "Cut it out," I said.

Hannah giggled to herself, picking at her sunflower seeds. "Talk about 'big brother,'" she muttered, and giggled again. Her eyes flashed to mine, impish, mischievous. I suddenly realized how sexy her mouth was, curled devilishly at the corners, her lips so full and pink.

Bet those lips know how to make a dick feel good

, I suddenly thought, then berated myself instantly.

"So let me ask you something," said my sister.

"No," I said. "Don't ask—"

She chuckled. "You ever get a real nice, long blow job? You know, the kind that gets you almost all the way off, then stops, then starts again? Ever have a girl do that—"