Author’s Note: This time, the chapter is written with Elijah as the focal character. The next chapter will probably go back to Essi’s POV. Mixing it up a little. (o˘◡˘o)
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Elijah closed his bedroom door behind himself and leaned against it after he heard the clack of the lock. His cock was still at half-mast, feeling rubbery and raw against the polyester of his boxers. His breathing was quickened. His thoughts were a huge, jumbled mess. All of them revolved around Essi to some capacity: how she’d ground up on him a mere thirty seconds ago, how she’d done so after ridiculing his ruling, how she’d blatantly taken over the arrangement. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one in charge?
He took a deep breath. ‘Calm down,’ he told himself. ‘Gather your thoughts. Gather your thoughts, and come up with a plan on where to go from here.’ But he couldn’t. Because this wasn’t where he was supposed to be; she had put him there. She had steered the situation, and she had achieved what must have been her goal: to confuse him utterly.
First, she had agreed to the arrangement. Reluctantly. Then, she had masturbated for the whole world to hear, drawing his attention and getting him all riled up. Purposely, no doubt. And then, she had changed lanes and swatted his hand away in church, just to nay-say his rule and then grind up on his cock? What kind of game was she playing?
‘That’s it,’ he muttered. ‘Except for back at the Mc’s lot, she’s commandeered everything so far! She broke the arrangement, acted up when I dared to do the same, rallied against the punishment, and then used it to her own advantage.’
He walked toward his mini-bar, hooked to an outlet underneath his desk. It gave off a steady hum. He grabbed a Coke from the bottom row and twisted the cap to a satisfying ziiish.
‘I need to get back on top,’ he said, swallowing a sip. The carbonation tickled the roof of his mouth. ‘I don’t know what her plan might be, so I’ll just have to sabotage it. Whatever she might propose, whatever notion, action, or motion she might try to impose, I’ll have to do the exact opposite. Throw a wrench into the gears.’
He settled down on his desk chair. Swivelling it toward the window, he glanced at the blue sky dotted with white clouds–a perfect afternoon. But not the time to act. Gyrating a finger along the can’s top rim, he knew he’d have to wait. She had to make the first move. And so, the rest of the day went by uneventfully.
On the following Monday, Elijah sat in a lecture hall. Professor Whittaker talked about the causes and consequences of hyperinflation in 20th-century economies. Mind-bogglingly interesting, downright gripping. But Elijah’s mind was preoccupied with, arguably, even more interesting subject matter: The slight dimples above his sister’s ass cheeks, and the subtle V-shape between them, flowing into the small of her back. He’d never known her to be a sports nut, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that she was one of those weirdos doing butt exercises. Fits her industry.
He’d spotted those details after her little stunt the day before. After she had rubbed her dripping pussy against his cock–receiving a generous load for her effort–she had turned around, hands raised to her head, and he’d gotten a good view of her backside. White gobs of cum clung to her buttocks, sticking to her dewy skin. More or less intently, he’d spread a little bit of it when he’d pulled back, slipping out of the warm pocket her clamped legs had created, covering the soft lips of his sister’s pussy with his semen. He would have liked to take it further–to see his cum not just covering her entrance but her insides, dribbling out, running down her thighs. It had taken his all to refrain from thrusting his cock into her. A single twitch, a well-timed jolt would’ve done the job. He could practically hear the way she’d have yipped. The way her eyes would’ve shot open, staring at him, mouth agape, brow creased. The way her ass would’ve perked up after she’d have flexed her thighs in shock and astonishment.
‘Can somebody list the causes of hyperinflation?’ Prof Whittaker asked, running his eyes over the students. ‘Anyone? Can anyone give me a single cause?’ Several hands in the first row jutted into the air.
‘Fuck…’ Elijah murmured under his breath. ‘Fuck it, I’m not in the right state of mind for this.’ He shut his laptop, put it into his messenger bag and got up. He slung the bag across his shoulders and shuffled past three guys sitting to his right. The university’s halls were mostly empty, and the parking lot was deserted. The hood of his red Corolla glittered underneath the midday sun. For a short, distinct moment, his mind replayed the moment he’d pushed that Coke-doused piece of chipped ice against Essi’s soft nipple. It was sort of like a déjà vu. His crotch was tight, and his breathing shallow. He thought he might be going zonguldak escort crazy. She was all he could think of.
The roads were free of cars, and he rode a green wave. He was home in no time. His father’s Honda Accord wasn’t in the driveway, nor was his mother’s Ford Fusion. No big surprise. They were still at work. Essi’s car wasn’t in the driveway either, which was also no big surprise: she’d never learned how to drive.
The second he stepped through the front door–which led directly into the sprawling living room–his sister’s head shot up. She was planted on the couch, wearing a blue pleated skirt and a white tee with a print. Her legs were propped up on the coffee table, and the remote was nestled in her right hand. She exclaimed, ‘Hey, Elli! How was…university? Was it good? I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.’
Her cheerfulness freaked him out. He closed the door and stood at the end of the couch. It was an old piece, clothed and L-shaped. She was sitting on the other side. ‘What’s up with you?’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ she enquired, brow furrowed.
‘You’re so…chirpy.’
‘Does that–Does that bother you? If you want, I can throw a tantrum and fling the remote–‘ she held it up her right hand, miming a chucking motion ‘–against that wall over there.’
His crotch was still tight, but he wasn’t trying to hide it. His blue jeans and the slightly loose sweater covered it up nicely. However, the lingering arousal might have influenced his next decision.
‘Get up,’ he said.
‘Why?’ She took her feet off the coffee table, put the remote on it, and sat with her back straight, looking up at him. ‘What’s up?’
‘Do I have to repeat myself?’
‘Eh…no. Not at all!’ She hopped off the couch and patted down the lap of her skirt. It ended just shy of her knees, and the baggy, crew-necked T-shirt overlapped with its hem. ‘What now?’ she said.
‘Pull it up.’ He indicated her skirt with a nod.
He hadn’t thought it possible, but her reaction freaked him out even more than her demeanour had managed to: after a short, suspenseful pause, a wry smile graced her lips, and her hands slid down her sides, grabbing hold of the garment’s pleated fabric and pulling it up. Far up.
She’d shaved, he thought. It was the first thing that came to mind, followed by a surprise at the prominence of her mound. He felt utterly intoxicated at the mere sight of her. And he felt utterly powerful at the sheer obedience she displayed.
‘W–What do you say?’ she said, smiling contentedly. Her cheeks were flushed, and her voice quivered. ‘I’m following the rule to the dot, aren’t I? I’m wearing a skirt, no underwear… and I even shaved! Nothing’s hidden.’
His erection strained against his pants–but this wasn’t just lust. He couldn’t put it into words (perhaps due to the lack of blood in that vital organ at that particular moment), but he’d never felt this way before, not while ogling the naked bodies of random college chicks he’d hooked up with. Yet, doubt lingered in his mind: was this another part of her plan? What even was her plan? It was as though her behaviour changed on a bi-hourly basis. He couldn’t pin her down for the life of him.
‘Oh!’ Essi suddenly yelped, clasping her hands together. ‘This is perfect!’
‘What is?’ he said half-heartedly, eyes still lingering on his sister’s private parts. She hadn’t let go of the skirt yet, and he was beginning to think she wouldn’t until he told her to–which he didn’t plan on doing anytime soon.
‘You, me, no mum or dad…We could finally get this whole thing going. How about it? The entire purpose of this “agreement” was for you to star in my videos, wasn’t it? So, how about it? Huh? Now’s the time!’
Was she…eager to get fucked on camera? Elijah wondered. But he threw that thought to the wind. He’d basically blackmailed her into agreeing to this entire affair. Of course, there was the masturbating…but that could be written off as, well, masturbation. And yesterday? That must’ve been a slip-up. She’d never seen a real cock, after all. It must’ve gotten the better of her. That thought elicited an inward chuckle and a weird sense of pride.
‘I think–‘
‘That it’s a good idea, right?’ She turned toward the couch, bent down slightly, shot back up, and then glanced over her shoulder. ‘May I drop the skirt, Elli?’
‘You may not.’
She mustn’t have expected that. She kept her gaze locked to his for a second before uttering a resolute ‘Hmm’ and tucking the pleated folds of the skirt into the waistband, creating a sort of bulbous loop around her slim stomach.
‘What I was saying–‘
‘Yeah, yeah,’ she said, waving her hand placatingly through the air and–with another short moment of hesitation–bending down to pick up her phone. Her plump ass was on full display. He noticed a slight sheen between her outer lips (her inner labia were naturally tucked in, giving her pussy an innocent appearance Elijah wasn’t sure istanbul travesti she deserved anymore). ‘Give me a minute. I just have to go up to my room and grab the camera.’
She didn’t leave him any time to finish his sentence, rushing out of the living room and heading for the hallway. His eyes stayed glued to her backside, watching her ass cheeks jiggle in rhythm with her hasty gait. She then bent a corner, and he heard her feet shuffle up the stairs.
Half a minute later, she came jogging back, clutching a camera–which Elijah recognised as a Fujifilm–on a tripod clasped under her right arm. Mounted on top of the camera was a microphone with a hairy-looking windscreen. She placed it on the ground, huffed, and said, ‘Where do you want me to set it up?’ Her eyes still gleamed, and her skirt–which must’ve gotten loose during the stair climb–was packed more tightly into itself.
And then, Elijah remembered his plan (which was to thwart her plan). He flicked a thumb over his crotch and gestured toward the end of the living room with his chin. ‘Over there,’ he said. ‘But don’t turn it on. Strip naked first.’ He was still somewhat astonished. He commanded her around as though she were a bought-and-paid-for escort. And she stood at attention as though she were a soldier at the risk of being hanged should she disobey.
Essi set up the camera. The tripod had rubber feet and reached up to her belly button. She then flapped open the Fuji’s screen and twisted it around so that they could see it while filming.
‘Strip,’ Elijah said, interrupting her set-up routine.
‘I’m just gonna turn it on so that–‘
‘No.’ He spoke calmly, not betraying his goal to dismiss everything she might try to do. He was the owner, and she was to act accordingly. ‘Strip, and then I’ll tell you what to do next.’ His arms were crossed in front of his chest. His erection was starting to hurt, straining against the rather hard and tough fabric of his jeans.
‘Don’t you want me to strip on camera? I thought that would–‘
‘No,’ he repeated. ‘Just strip already.’
Essi glanced at him, puckering her lips. She then closed the Fuji’s screen and, for good measure, put the lens cover back on. ‘If you say so, Elli, I’ll do so.’ Her voice was soft and sweet, hinting at no ill will. She simply grabbed the skirt, unwrapped it to find the zipper, unzipped it, and let gravity do the rest. She stepped out of its remains while hauling the white tee over her head. Her hair fell back down as the tee landed on the couch. She finger-combed her bangs and hugged her belly, smiling sheepishly at her brother.
‘What now, Elli?’ she said, standing still. She was seriously following his every word, but he did notice her glance back at the Fuji momentarily. Her breasts swayed gently as her torso twisted.
She really wanted that camera running, he thought. And then, it hit him. What if she were to blackmail him? He hadn’t even considered the possibility as it would end in mutually assured destruction, but that could be her goal. She’d been acting strangely enough. He had no idea what was going on inside his sister’s head.
It had originally been his idea, but he now knew that he couldn’t let himself be caught on tape. And though that didn’t particularly bother him–he’d already gotten more than he could’ve ever imagined–he was getting angry. Somewhat agitated. His pulse increased, and colour came to his cheeks. The sweater suddenly felt too tight and too hot.
‘Elli?’ Essi said, looking at him from beneath her lashes. ‘What do you want me to do now?’
He’d been staring at the floor. At the sound of her voice, he looked up, grabbed his sweater and the undershirt underneath, and pulled them up over his back. ‘I want you to suck me off,’ he blurted out, licking his lips, his dishevelled hair hanging across his eyes. ‘That’s what I want you to do.’
‘S–suck you off?’ A nervous giggle escaped her lips, and her chest heaved up and down with sharp breaths. Her eyes stared at his junk. ‘You mean, after I turn on the camera?
He ditched his belt and dropped trou. He had to stoop to remove his sneakers and the bunched-up jeans from around his ankles. His underwear did a far worse job hiding his cock, and it stood to its full length, slightly angled to the bottom left due to the boxers’ cut. He dropped those, too.
‘Did I tell you to turn it on?’ He thought being buck-naked would undermine his authority, but he felt even more dominant. Must’ve been something primal, he thought. It felt primal, anyway, standing face to face with Essi, both of them hot, bothered, and undressed.
Now it was her turn to look confused. ‘You did not,’ she muttered. ‘But that’s the deal, isn’t–?’
‘The deal’s you do anything I say, and in exchange, I won’t tell on your slutty ass. If I don’t see you on your knees within the next five seconds, I guess I’ll know what the next punishment will be.’
‘Wha–um…Okay, okay-okay,’ she stammered, stepping ankara travesti closer and dropping to her knees. She put her palms against his legs, and her uncertain eyes glanced up at him. Another moment where he was flashed by the inherent innocence her looks commanded–somewhat ruined by his cock being a finger’s width from her nose.
Her breathing ramped up, and he could’ve sworn he saw her nostrils flaring up, taking a whiff, when she put her lips on his tip, kissing it. She then moved down his shaft, kissing and pecking and kissing, ultimately caressing his balls with her left hand as she dabbed her lips against them, doling out a few more gentle smacks, which quickly escalated into sucking and licking. His cock lay across her face, covering one of her eyes. The other looked up at him.
‘Tell me when you’re about to come, all right?’ She stuck out her tongue and slid it over his cock, from his balls back toward the tip. ‘Just so I can prepare myself a little.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper. She licked his frenulum, then engulfed the entire head with her mouth. Her tongue swirled around it.
‘I will,’ he said, struggling to hold onto his newly developed grudge. ‘I’ll make sure to give you ample warning.’ He placed his right hand on the back of her head. He didn’t apply any pressure, enjoying his sister’s slow and sensual approach.
Having built up some saliva, she removed her mouth and grabbed the strands of spit spanning between her and him, gathering them up with her left palm. She then grabbed him, jerked him with subtle movements, and spread it across his shaft. He gave a soft moan, and she cocked her head at him. A shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
For some reason, Elijah couldn’t hold back. He reciprocated.
It perked her up even more. She directed her attention back to his cock, plunging it into her mouth and swallowing as much as she could–starting to gag at three-fourths. She pulled back, and he moved his hips a little in the opposite direction to help out. Spit clung to her chin, giving it a glimmering sheen. She collected the freely hanging strands again, slathering him up.
‘Don’t puke on me,’ he said. She giggled, covering her mouth with a palm. The giggle was interspersed with soft coughing.
She went back to blowing without delay, moving her lips up and down his hot rod, going a fraction of an inch further with each thrust. The gags didn’t go away, but she kept at it, gasping for air between bursts of sliding him further and further down her throat. Soon, she managed to bury her nose in his pubic hair. She gave it another sniff–he felt it that time.
He couldn’t contain himself. He flexed his arm, holding her there and listening to the soft, squelching sounds, the slight grunts coming from her throat. Her palms slowly curled up. She then clapped a hand against his thigh. He released her head instantly. Her neck snapped back, her fingers coiled around his base. She sucked in a deep breath, coughing and drooling to no end. Some of it hit the floor, but most landed right in her palm. She lapped it up.
When she looked up at him. Her eyes were watery, but the smile was still there. She then stretched, arching her back, unwittingly allowing him a glimpse of her body. Her nipples were hard, pointing slightly upward, moving with her chest. She noticed and put her wet hand on her left breast. She teased him by teasing herself, pinching and pulling at her nips, squeezing and rubbing them with her spit. The smile turned sly. And then she put her mouth right back where it belonged.
Her movements became smoother, regulated, and more in tune with her breathing, constantly poking at the limits of her gag reflex. Elijah was watching his sister as she learned how to properly please a man–the only man he wanted her to pleasure, he quickly realised.
He locked his hand again, her nose breathing in his odour as her tongue gyrated around his shaft. It sent tingles up his spine. The saliva bubbled at the corners of her mouth, and her grunting intensified the longer he held her there. Her hands coiled up again–but no clapping yet.
When he suddenly felt himself close to a climax, he released her–but her head didn’t lull back. Her lips remained at the base of his cock, nose tickling his pubic hair, drool dripping into her lap. He hadn’t planned to come already–hadn’t planned for this blowjob to be more than a lubing–but didn’t even think about pulling her off his cock. She bobbed slightly back and forth.
With a strained voice, he said, ‘I’m coming!’ A split second later, his body convulsed, tingles rocking through his lower body. His cock throbbed inside his sister’s throat. He felt her jaw tremble, felt her tongue pressing up against his shaft. He was looking into her teary eyes when his orgasm exploded, unloading several strings of hot cum straight into her mouth and down her throat. With every twitch of his cock, more shot out, filling her up, and halfway through his orgasm, she pulled back. She swallowed, coughed, sucked in a breath, and held his cock toward her face. The last few bursts of semen–pouring rather than shooting at that point–landed on her wet, smiling grimace, covering her right eye, left nostril, mouth, and chin. He hadn’t ever come that much before. Not yesterday, not ever.