Author's note: This story contains BDSM within the family and outside the house. A warning is given here, but won't be in any possible subsequent chapters.
*
I started writing only two years ago. The so-called erotic stories available in the 'over the counter' publications bored me. I decided to write and submit my example of the way porn was meant to be--raunchy and filled with degradation--something you can take to the john and get off, before your legs fall asleep. The story was hot, all right; they published it. My first cheating-wife tale was drastically edited; but hey, I'm thinking--yes, a writer I am. Ha, ha, I'm going to make some money.
"Hello internet!" My self-confidence is soaring. Here's one I'll give a try; "Literotica" is the place for me. There are many different themes and thousands of stories. Wait a minute--my first story was rejected. "Try the 'Writers Resources' and 'Volunteer Editors' sections," was suggested. Oh my goodness, there is a method to the madness of writing. Punctuation rules, grammar clarification, even preferred erotic language are on hand there for me to follow. I could hear angels singing, as I read the essays by helpful writers with all of the answers. "Literotica" is not only entertaining; it's an institution of higher learning fine-tuned for writing pornography.
Another feature included at the site is the "Erotica Chat." I would study, then have recess on the playground of sex. Through anonymous chatting on my computer, I could actually talk to girls; and, they seemed to like me. That's where I met Cindy. It was in an erotic chat room, and we fell in cyber love. I should say lust, at first, but our clandestine connection developed into true friendship. Cindy and I confide in each other genuine feelings, hopes, and secret desires.
We have a lot in common--both being introverts, with strict upbringings that wouldn't tolerate self expression. Cindy told me she was afraid of her father. He was demeaning toward her, and his verbal chastising intimidated her. She feared trying anything new. He made her feel like she wasn't good enough; telling her she would only end up being disappointed. She mostly stayed in her room and away from him. Despite her father's discouragement, Cindy is an artist creating abstract drawings in a scheme of vivid colors with tedious, intricate detail. Some of her work has been displayed at art exhibitions.
We exchanged photos (fully clothed) via e-mail, and we appeared to be the same type: pale skin, brown hair, average height, and we both wear glasses. She is sort of pear shaped, being slightly big in the hips, small in the shoulders, but having fair-size breasts. Cindy's figure is not exactly pageantry status, nor fold-out material, but I happen to like a voluptuous, soft tush. (I am far from 'Hunksville' with my body.) She's my kind of girl. We were both comfortable with the photos of each other, and our internet relationship blossomed. Trusting in the confidentiality established between us, Cindy revealed her true, past sexual experiences to me. She told me tales of incest, blackmail, dominance, and of her own submission to the devious whims of others. For anonymity's sake, her name really isn't Cindy, but this is her story, and in her own words...
I grew up in a home where women weren't respected. My father and older brother abused my mother and me, treating us like servants to cater their needs. We tried to ignore them, but usually gave in, for sake of argument. I feared my dad. He was beating my mom, that was, until their divorce a few months after I turned nineteen. I knew why he hit her; she was my brother's sex slave.
My brother, Tom, is two years older than me. His body is small in frame, but unbelievably out of proportion is his large penis. I was stunned at first sight of it, as a chance glance was taken, when his towel-wrap had fallen. I was eye-popping impressed at the thickness and overall size of his cock. That was when it was soft; and, he had been swimming. I knew he masturbated often. I could hear the smacking sounds coming from his bedroom every day and night. It was on my nineteenth birthday, I caught him stroking a full erection in the shower. Sneaking in the bathroom to get my hair brush, I saw him using both hands to pump on his thick shaft. He caught me looking.
"Well, look who's here--if it isn't the birthday girl. Are you here for your present?" he asked holding his giant, stiff dick and waving it in front of me.
"No way! That thing is scary looking. How big is it anyway?" I asked in fascination, and I wondered--with so much blood surging thru his cock--why he wouldn't be light-headed from lack of it to his brain.
"It's nine and a half inches long, and at the base, eight inches around. 'Want to feel it? You can jerk it for me," he said with a smirk.
"I'm not touching that big, ugly log. You have to beat it yourself. I know you love doing that," I told him, and should have walked out, but I stood next to the tub watching him stroking his incredibly hard, soapy cock. His jerking was exciting my pussy and making it wet, as his tempo increased with two hands working on that mammoth prick.
"Get down closer, Cindy; I have something special to show you." My brother was panting and pumping fast on his throbbing hard-on. "Hurry, we haven't much time. Ooh, watch this!" He prompted my attention to the swollen knob, which at that moment spurted a streamer of warm cum hitting my cheek. Before I could back away, three more quick shots covered my face and lips. I defensively put my hand over the discharging head, as his cock continued pulsating and spurting white cream between my fingers. My heart was pounding, and I held onto his humongous cock, until it trickled out its last drop.
"You can let go, now, Sis. Come back later, and I'll let you suck it for me. Oh, Happy Birthday, Cindy," Tom said with sarcasm.
"You're an asshole, Tommy! I hate you," I yelled and ran out. Wouldn't you know--my mother passed me on the way to my room. She saw my brother's cum on my face and knew right-away what it was. Her face turned fire red, but she didn't say anything to me. My mom, instead, went storming into the bathroom, bringing Tom out by the ear, and dragging him into his bedroom. He wasn't quite thru the door; when, in her rage, she slammed it hard smashing his ankle.
"Ow! My ankle! I think you broke it," Tom shrieked.
"I'll break your neck. What the hell is wrong with you? Damn you--Cindy's your sister. How could you do such...a...thing?" my mom scolded him, with slaps on each of her last three words.
"What? We didn't do anything. She's the one, who came in the bathroom, while I was jerking-off. You know, mother, I wouldn't have to masturbate, if you'd do what you're supposed to. Where were you this morning? Why weren't you here in my bedroom taking care of me? This is your fault, mom," my brother blamed her.
"I was on the phone all morning with the insurance company. That irresponsible drinking and driving, you were caught doing, will make our rates go up. Your father is pissed-off, mister. He said it's time for you to get on with your life. You better find a job, Tommy, or he will make you leave," my mother advised him.
