My stories tend toward the nonconsent/taboo side, but I want to be clear that I’m in no way suggesting that the acts in my stories are okay. Forced sex is a fantasy I enjoy and I write for other similarly minded people. Real rape is ugly and sad, and if it’s something you’re considering acting out you should seek help.
Well, I wasn’t precisely happy with how many errors slipped through in the first version, but I was ready to chalk it up to it being my first story and leave it at that. However, when I asked my syntax-Nazi editor for some general comments on what I could do better with, he went through and reedited the whole thing, assuring me that the original version was offensive to the eyes what with all the technical errors and that I needed to get an edited version up ASAP. So here it is. A big thanks to Ian_Kamp for taking the time to reedit, and for pushing me to be a better writer.
On a related note, anyone who wants to send their stories to him for comments and possible editing should bear in mind that he is not one of those editors who pads every criticism with a compliment to spare your feelings. I’m a glutton for punishment, and it takes a little bit of that in order to not burst out in tears at some of his comments.
Enjoy the story.
Oh yeah, and all characters are still 18+
My brother ground his cotton-covered erection into my mons. He pinned my wrists to the bed with fingers of steel as he undulated against me. Years of anger and sexual frustration had been pent up, and were now on the verge of release all at once.
Allow me to sketch a brief overview: in my final year of high school, I was still a virgin. I had managed a couple of covert finger-fuckings and an almost-fuck, but still hadn’t lost my virginity. Not for lack of trying, let me assure you. Due to a combination of my parents’ dysfunctional marriage, our familial lack of religion, and my unrestricted television viewing from youth, I had no scruples about losing my virginity in a meaningless fling and proceeding on to other meaningless flings. In fact, I had been eager to get on with the meaningless flings from the age of thirteen, when I truly became aware of the opposite sex. Why was I still a virgin then? Because my brothers are completely psychotic.
Whereas my father couldn’t care less if I started dating at thirteen or thirty, my hypocritical brothers seemed to think thirty was the ideal age for me to start dating, if ever. Why do I call them hypocritical? Because I happen to know they lost their respective virginities at the same time by tag-teaming a girl a year older than them during their freshman year. My brothers have always been good-looking and got onto the fast-track of muscular development at an early age; their good looks and gorgeous bodies, combined with the novelty of their being identical twins, guaranteed them both very active sex lives early on.
Unfortunately for me, much as they enjoyed sex, they turned into complete Neanderthals at the thought of their baby sister having sex. More especially unfortunate for me, was the fact that my middle school was conjoined to their high school: the same high school I ended up going to with them later on. Also, the only extracurricular activity I took an interest in was boxing; my parents, breaking away from their usual policy of not giving a shit what their kids did, insisted I go to the same gym as Tyler and Ryan. My brothers’ constant presence afforded them the opportunity to not only stalk me and make sure I wasn’t up to anything, but also to threaten any guy who seemed to show an interest in me.
Despite their being two years older than me, my problems were not lessened upon my junior year as both brothers had dicked around too much in school and had to stay on an extra year to earn credits. Having spent my junior year in anticipation of having the freedom to fuck anyone I wanted at school the next year, one can imagine I was sorely disappointed that summer to learn that Tyler had decided to go into law and needed to go back for yet another term to upgrade.
I had been entertaining fantasies of extravagant ways to lose my virginity (walking in on the football team in the showers after practice, getting myself a detention with my hot English teacher and banging his brains out, etc.) and to have those dreams go up in smoke left me absolutely livid and twice as sexually frustrated as before. I’d tried leaving boxing to make time for a boyfriend on the sly, but Tyler found out through mutual acquaintances at school (backstabbing friends of mine who sold me out for a chance with my brother) and promptly put a stop to that through a combination of buddying up to my potential hymen-breakers and threatening to beat the shit out of them if they touched me. The last couple of months had been excessively frustrating, but even more frustrating was that I had three months more until Tyler left my school for good and I had any chance of having a life.
The past two months had been almost non-stop arguing between Tyler and me, with Ryan occasionally teaming up with his twin against me. Ryan had decided to take a year off and work before going to university, so that he and Tyler could be first year together (some sort of twin thing), so he was still at home to vex me, too.
However, the worst of the arguments were the one-on-ones between just Tyler and me, which had become increasingly frequent and increasingly physical. One of these arguments was largely why I was being pinned to my bed by my big brother, nightie rucked up around my hips, as he ground his impressive hard-on into my crotch.
All my anger and sexual frustration had culminated into this moment and, suddenly, the hard cock pressing insistently between my legs was all that mattered. My clit throbbed and I obliged it by rubbing it hard against the instrument of its arousal. Not having worn panties to bed since I can remember, my wetness seeped out and quickly began soaking through the front of Ty’s pyjama bottoms.
My lips parted and I felt my cheeks flush. I had watched myself in the mirror many times while I first aroused myself, then brought myself to orgasm, and I could feel my face take on the expression I wear when unbearably aroused. All I could do was move against my brother and look up into his face, into the expression of a man giving in to a pleasure long denied him. That look of sweet breaking only increased as he ground into me harder and harder with each stir of his hips. He released one wrist and cupped my face in his large, callused hand.
“You’ve been making me crazy, you know that?” He leaned down until his lips grazed my ear as he continued in a rigid voice, “You don’t even know how many times I nearly threw you down when you were prancing around in one of your little nightshirts with no panties on. I wanted to slam you on the floor and spread your legs, lick you ’til you came, then fuck you senseless.”
His words had increased the flow of blood to my pussy and I felt almost feverish, but still he continued, torturing me with frustration as I had apparently been torturing him.
“Or when you wear those slutty little skirts that I’m always on your ass about ’cause they’ll make guys think the wrong thing,” he breathed hotly into my ear, “They sure as hell make me think the wrong thing.” He punctuated this with a vicious buck of his hips, contrasted sharply by the soft, almost chaste, kiss he laid upon my lips.
My clit was throbbing so hard it seemed liable to explode and the inner walls of my cunt felt like molten lava was sliding down them. Through the haze of passion, one thing leapt out at me. “Since when?” I asked, though fairly sure I knew the answer.
Tyler lowered his mouth to my ear and nipped all around it, sucking on my earlobe even, before answering me. “Golden Gloves.”
I had started boxing when I was sixteen, but, for a long time, had only had matches at local cards. This was to be my first out-of-town card, and not only was I thrilled, but my brothers were actually delighted to have me along. Although they harassed me to the point of insanity during the six-hour drive to the tournament, they also took turns acting as my pillow when I wanted to nap, cuddling me and generally acting brotherly.
We had been fighting a lot in recent weeks over their high-handed ways when it came to my dating; they had decided to allow me to go on a date, only to show up at the movies and seat themselves three rows behind me. As usual, my parents did nothing to intervene and, unable to overpower my brothers, all I could do was scream at them then stomp to my room, slam the door and wait for the day they wouldn’t be around to plague me.
It was nice for all of us to have this respite from arguing. However, it didn’t last too long once we reached the hotel where the Golden Gloves were being held. The next morning in fact, during weigh-ins, was when things first when awry.
Despite commonly-held stereotypes of females in boxing, there really are a lot of pretty girls in the sport. All modesty aside, Janelle and I were two such girls. Both of us were trim and toned, pretty, and well-dressed. Janelle was a year in between me and my brothers, and if she knew one thing, it was how to flirt. At the first day of weigh-ins, she had struck up with a trio of guys from another gym and somehow I found myself flirting and enjoying the attentions of one particularly hot Latino guy, Jose. Ryan and Tyler were both glaring at me, and by unspoken agreement, Tyler held their place in line to weigh in while Ryan came over to break up our little party, neatly introducing himself and promptly suggesting the guys get in line quickly or they would have to wait hours to get in for their weigh-ins and medicals. To say I was irked would be putting it mildly.
As the morning progressed, I started to feel the full indignity of being treated like a little girl who couldn’t be expected to know her own mind whenever there was a penis around. I stewed in my own juices and by lunchtime, my indignation had increased to magnificent proportions; I knew about sex, I knew about protection and birth control, and I sure as hell knew what I was and wasn’t ready for and I bitterly resented the control my brothers were exerting over my life. As I sat down for lunch with the team in the hotel restaurant, I couldn’t quite restrain myself from darting resentful looks at my brothers every couple of minutes. The fact that I was eating soup and salad because I’d barely made weight while my brothers had made their weights with room to spare and were currently eating burgers and fries did nothing to curb my resentment.
All that had transpired made me act somewhat recklessly when the boys from the weigh-ins, including Jose the Hottie, came up to Janelle and me, who were sitting at a table for two, off to the side of the boys from our team.
The wattage of my smile for Jose could blind while I blatantly ignored my brothers, whose glares were the polar opposite of my sunny smile. Janelle and I made small talk with the guys and I was congratulating myself on finally putting my brothers in their place when Jose leaned in close and told me that they were ordering a movie later on in their room, and they’d love it if we’d both stop by. Shivers went up my spine at his sexy accent. Unfortunately, I was apparently not the only one who reacted to Jose’s intimate tone. Ryan and Tyler’s chairs screeched backward as they shot to their feet and got between Jose and me. Tyler grabbed Jose by the collar and hauled him up close to his face.
“My sister isn’t going anywhere near you or your room, dickhead. I better not see you around her any time during the tournament, or there’s going to be ass-whuppings dished out, got it?”
As one can imagine, boxers being the peace-loving bunch that we are, this did not go over well with Jose and his friends. If it weren’t for our coach jumping into the middle of things and sorting everyone out, there most definitely would have been a brawl right in the middle of the restaurant. Luckily, Joey got everyone calmed down and our team sat back down while those not on the team dispersed, everyone seemingly ready to get on with lunch. Except my brothers and me.
Ryan had sat back down, at least confining his anger to a disapproving glare, but Tyler leaned down and got right up in my face, and said, “I better not see you talking to any of those guys again,” before sitting back down and going back to his food.
My rage exploded. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I will do what the fuck I please, and if it pleases me to hang out with those guys then you can be damn sure I will!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, any care for public propriety flung out the window.
“You think that’s what they wanna do? Hang out? They wanna get in your pants, you little retard.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll let them do that, too, if I feel like it.” I delivered this in my snottiest tone of voice.
The entire team went quiet. Everyone knew my brothers’ feelings on my having sex, and nobody knew what was going to happen next. Tyler and Ryan’s expressions turned murderous, but it was Tyler who spoke, his voice low and menacing: “You are lucky as hell I don’t beat your ass for that, but you can be damn sure you’re not boxing anymore.” With all the finality of a parent who has just told off a particularly stupid and bratty child, he once again returned to his food.
That was really it for me. I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad in my life as I was at that moment. My last vestiges of self-restraint snapped, and I stood up, picked up my still-hot soup, and dumped it in Tyler’s lap. I walked away feeling very self-satisfied.
At least, I was feeling self-satisfied until I was yanked backward by my ponytail, spun around and tipped over a hard shoulder. Tyler had simply picked me up and started carrying me out of the restaurant much as one would a naughty child. I screamed obscenities at him and even managed to elbow him in the back of the head once, but he didn’t even slow down.
Into the elevator, up to the fourth floor, into a room not mine, so obviously Ryan and Tyler’s, and then I was dumped unceremoniously onto the bed, face-first. I scrambled to get off the bed as Tyler plopped down, but he just grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and hauled me over his lap. I felt my track pants yanked down as I struggled to no avail. The soup-soaked front of his pants spread its wetness to my T-shirt as I kicked and jerked in his lap.
“What the fuck are you doing, jerk off?” I screamed, just as he simultaneously asked, “What the fuck are you wearing?”
As he clearly expected an answer first, I ventured out with: “It’s called a thong, shithead.”
“What the fuck kind of respectable girl wears thongs?” He brought a hand down hard on my bare ass cheek.
“OW! Jesus, Tyler! What the fuck!”
“See? That’s what this is about!” Smack! “Your fuckin’ mouth lately!” Smack! “Your slutty clothes lately!” Smack! “We try and teach you to respect yourself and all we get is shit from you! Maybe if Dad would have done this when he should have, you wouldn’t be such a little mouthpiece!” SMACK!
I can’t deny the tanning my ass was receiving hurt like hell, but a familiar stirring was occurring between my legs. I had never consciously harboured any love for pain, but suddenly the stinging of my ass translated directly into the throbbing of my pussy. I instinctively spread my legs, perhaps hoping for a blow gone awry to land on my pulsing mound. I could feel my lips plumping up and my clit rubbing against my thong as it distended from its hood. Tyler was still yammering on, but all I could focus on were the blows to my ass and the heat at the juncture of my thighs.
Suddenly, Tyler froze. I felt him shift underneath me. Still holding me down by the neck, it felt almost as if he were… leaning over to examine me from behind. Reality came crashing in, and I clamped my thighs together, but I was apparently too late.
“Why are your panties wet, Alyssa?”
I squeezed my eyes shut in mortification. This didn’t last long, however, as embarrassment quickly turned to anger in a defensive reflex. This wasn’t my fault! I wasn’t sick; I was just sexually deprived. And I knew just who to blame for that!
“Because I’m fucking horny! Because unlike most horny people my age who can go out and fool around and take care of their needs, I have two psycho brothers who stalk me, threaten all the guys around me, and now fucking spank me!”
My thighs had parted somewhat during this tirade and Tyler’s response was not the angry return I’d expected, but rather the feeling of his hand placed on the back of the thigh closest his body, his fingers trailing down between my legs.
There was a pregnant pause.
“And how would you take care of those needs?” he asked softly, fingers now stroking back and forth along the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to my puffy lips that didn’t seem to care who the fingers belonged to, brother or otherwise.
Did Tyler know what he was doing to me? The feelings he was arousing? The flow of wetness he was doing nothing to ebb? I couldn’t think to answer his question. I hadn’t an intelligent thought in my head, only a hazy picture in my mind’s eye of those fingers closing the distance to my core, pulling aside my thong and plunging inside of me.
Apparently, my pussy was not as disconnected from my mouth as my brain was, because I heard myself saying, “I would find a hot guy, and I would start by letting him finger me. I want to feel what it’s like when it’s when it’s someone else’s fingers.” All this I delivered in a breathless voice, losing my mind from wanting my brother’s fingers inside me, not stopping to feel shy that I had basically just admitted to putting my own fingers up my cunt, or that I had just hinted fairly strongly that that was where I wanted his. All I could think about was getting those callused fingers to stop teasing me and go where I needed them.
The soaked front of my T-shirt caused me to squirm uncomfortably and I felt something hard underneath my tummy. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he must be hard. The thought that I had excited him as much as he had me caused a gush of wetness to seep out and I moaned for want of his fingers.
It seemed I was about to get my wish as I felt Ty’s fingertips brushing up and down over my slit, over each of my swollen lips. Then there was only one finger there, travelling up my soaked thong to where it was pulled taut between pussy and ass, then hooking underneath it, sloooowly drawing it outward…
The moment was shattered when we heard a key card being slid into the door. Ryan! I jerked my head up just as Tyler shoved me off his lap and onto the floor with a thud. I yanked up my pants and jumped up to see Ryan regarding us very strangely.
After much fidgeting and bullshitting, Tyler allayed some of the suspicion in Ryan’s eyes, but Ryan, being genetically the same person as Tyler, definitely knew something was up.
I was confused. I didn’t know what to think about what I’d done with my brother, what I’d wanted to do with my brother. My confusion was made worse still by Tyler’s avoidance of me over the next few days of the tournament and then compounded when, on the last day of the trip, I came into my room only to find the TV blaring and Janelle on all fours, mewling like a cat in heat while Tyler pounded into her from behind.
Tyler and I didn’t talk for nearly two weeks after that, and I could barely contain my hostility toward Janelle. Tyler was sullen and withdrawn around me, going so far as to stay mute when I went back to boxing, against his dictate. Don’t get me wrong; I sure didn’t want my brother telling me what to do and running my life, but I also didn’t want him not to be part of it at all.