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Introduction:

Dianne and Tommy give in to hormones

My brother and I are only 18 months apart. We lived with our dad in a small house in the Midwest. We commuted together to community college after high school. We have always been close siblings, but we got a lot closer during those commutes.

Tommy had a few girlfriends and I had the occasional boyfriend. We shared a lot of details driving back and forth to college. We were amazingly open with each other and frankly I found it titillating to hear about his conquests.

I have never told anyone our true story.

Tommy and I had our own separate bedrooms, but we shared a wall. It was paper thin and we could hear everything unless the music was turned up. Late at night, I could hear Tommy masturbating. Sometimes in the morning as well. On occasion, he would forget what he was doing and his headboard would tap against our shared wall.

One day at breakfast after Dad left for work, I mentioned the bed knocking the wall and maybe he should move it a few inches away. Tommy was clearly embarrassed and truth is I enjoyed his embarrassment, if only a little. His headboard never banged the wall again, but I could still hear him pleasuring himself most nights and now almost every morning.

It’s hard to describe how I felt about Tommy. He was my brother and we grew up together and did all the typical sib stuff. Now I felt sorry for him. His little head was in the driver’s seat. He clearly had raging hormones and truth be told, when I heard him going at it, I listened intently.

I admit it. It was hot. I could hear him and I couldn’t help myself. I slept naked, so I spread my legs, put the soles of my feet together and rubbed circles with my middle finger on my clit. I like direct stimulation and I can quickly orgasm that way. It was hot thinking about the hard dick just on the other side of the wall. Sometimes I would insert my hairbrush handle with my left hand while circling my clit with my right. I would push it in and out, timing it with the sounds just on the other side of the wall. I would imagine it was that rock hard dick that wanted so badly to explode in me. It went in and out of my pussy, or so I imagined.

At first I only masturbated thinking about a generic dick. It wasn’t Tommy’s dick. That would be gross. My own brother? But eventually his image started involuntarily entering into my fantasy sex. It started slowly, but in time he was there every time. It wasn’t a hairbrush and it wasn’t just any dick. It was Tommy’s dick and it was extra exciting.

One evening Dad was out with his motorcycle buddies and Tommy and I were alone.

He sat next to me on the old coach in the basement to watch TV and said, nonchalantly, “You know I can hear you too.”

I was startled and speechless. I looked at him and he was clearly enjoying my embarrassment, just as I had enjoyed his when mentioning the bed tapping noises.

Then he really threw me, “I think about you when I do it. I hope you are not mad at me and I’ll never mention it again if you don’t want me to. I just feel really close to you.”

He was a bit embarrassed, but continued, “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help it. I get hard thinking there is a naked girl just a foot away and have to, you know, or else I can’t get to sleep.”

He went on, “I know you sleep naked. I also know you do it too and I think about you doing it and then I really need to cum. I need to release. I just have to. Otherwise I’ll just lie there thinking about sex and never get to sleep. I can’t control it. It gets hard and I have to.”

I was still stunned, but managed to get over my embarrassment and said, “I didn’t think you could hear me.” I stammered a bit and continued, “I hear you doing it and I get hot too.”
I could see the bulge in his pants when he said, “I can’t help thinking about it.”

“I know, I can see that. I’m not mad. It’s just ... natural.”

He put his hand over his tent and gave it a squeeze and squirmed a bit. He repositioned it pointing up toward his middle. I guess it was uncomfortably constrained pointing down. Not having one I didn’t really know. Then he slowly, gingerly took my hand and guided it down. I let him. Truthfully I wanted to feel it and didn’t need much pushing.

I rubbed him through his jeans and he let out a moan and arched his back. I was getting excited to see him under my control. I wanted to see that throbbing guy stick. I wasn’t thinking any more, I just unzipped his jeans and inserted two fingers. I rocked his cock back and forth over his shorts and it was clearly straining to get out. I could feel its heat. I could feel its need.

He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. He sheepishly pushed his shorts down too, until Mr. Happy popped free. I could see he was neatly groomed and his naked balls hung over the elastic edge of his shorts. He wrapped his hand around the shaft, squeezed, and let out a little noise. I was mesmerized at the sight of it. It had veins and the head was swollen with lust. This was the little guy that drove my brother crazy every night and nearly every morning. This thing had power.

He stared at my chest and glanced down to my crotch and back up to meet my eyes. By this time I held his balls in my hand.

He begged me, “Please help me cum. I really need it.”

He was desperate and I could see it in his eyes. The urge was almost unstoppable, but I had another idea.

I jumped up, stripped off my jeans and panties in one movement, sat on the opposite end of the couch from Tommy and said, “Show me how you do it and I’ll show you how I do it. Then we don’t have to imagine anymore.”

Tommy needed no further encouragement and started vigorously pumping up and down. I put one leg up on the coach back and one on the floor and started equally vigorously circling my clit while staring at his hard dick and watching his balls move up and down with each stroke. I briefly thought about taking off my shirt, but I was feeling too good to do anything except circle my moistened clit with one had and insert a finger from the other. I watched Tommy stroke his rock hard cock.

He was clearly staring into my well groomed pussy, probably imagining his dick in it. I know that’s what I was imagining. I thought about him pumping me hard and just then felt that wave. I shuddered a bit and let out some moans. My vagina involuntarily contracted around my finger as I imagined it was Tommy’s cock.

He closed and scrunched up his eyes and a small white fountain spurted out of his purple head onto his hand and shirt. First one wave, then another, then a third smaller one, and finally a forth one accompanied by a satisfied sigh. We both relaxed, half naked. Suddenly I felt like an accomplished voyeur.

We sat there staring at each other’s bodies. I was all wet. Tommy was wet with his own cum and he still held is shaft in his hand. His penis and hand had cum frosting and the sight of it fascinated me.

The urge came over me and I had to know what it tasted like, so I crawled over to his side of the couch, removed his hand and took his now semi-hard and cum coated head into my mouth. It tasted a bit slimy, salty, but also very, very sexy with a warm musky smell.

I gently kissed him and he said he liked tasting his own cum on me. That made me feel powerful.

I liked smelling his sex when I exhaled through my nose. It was like no other taste or smell I had ever experienced and it sent shivers between my legs. The sweet and salty taste made me regret that I told him to pleasure himself. It would have been better if he had shot his load directly into my mouth. Then I would have earned this wonderful taste.

We needed that release with each other. We had listened to each other masturbate so many times through the thin walls. Now we actually watched each other orgasm. It seemed natural. Although the hormones won, we were happy campers. Surprisingly, there was no embarrassment.

We were both exhausted by this time and sexually spent, so we got dressed, kissed goodnight and went to our separate bedrooms. I should mention the kiss. It wasn’t a brother and sister peck on the cheek like before. It was open mouthed, with future lover’s tongues knowingly dancing, ‘Till next time.’

Later that night, I heard a familiar sound. I wanted to help the poor boy, but helped myself instead.

To be continued ... If I can gather the courage to tell more.

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