Brotherly Love, Chapter 9 (Incest fantasy)

At the same time, I have the feeling he was also sneaking around, trying to catch me, trying to watch me without me knowing.

I would feel eyes on me in the shower. Soon, I found myself opening the shower door while I stood there, naked, closing my eyes on purpose as I ran my hands through my hair, lathering it with shampoo, conditioner. I would turn off the water and put my foot on the edge of the tub, intently staring at myself as I lathered my body, ran the cloth across my breasts, turning as I used the soap on my ass.

9/15/2014 2:18 PM

I would hear my door creak open as I put on my clothes. So, instead of putting them on quickly, I would stand in front of the mirror, examining myself, and trying to catch a glimpse of him to see if I was right. Pressing my breasts up slightly, I imagined myself with a push up bra. Mom would never allow it, but it didn't matter. It was still nice to imagine, to see the cleavage that would be showing. To imagine how the guys at school's eyes would bulge. My body turned profile, so someone at the door could see the swell of my breasts, tipped with slightly hardening nipples, my tight stomach, my slightly rounded ass, while I stared intently at the mirror, ignoring my door. If he was there.

Other times I would be laying on my bed, and catch the door crack slightly. I put down what I was reading and went over to the my bookshelf. Grabbing my M magazine, I went back to my bed and laid down.

9/29/2014 11:54 AM (Still have more to go, and the next part will be more graphic)

I propped the magazine up on my stomach, while leaving me room to glace just to the side of it. Just as I thought, the door was cracked ever so slightly.

The magazine in front of me was ignored, only there for show, nothing else. I thought about the glimpses I had seen of my brother. I thought about how I had spied on him as he masturbated. It sent a thrill to my head thinking taboo thoughts. He was my brother, not some random guy. We weren't supposed to see our brothers like that, with his penis in his hand, eyes glued to a computer screen, rubbing up and down his shaft. A tingle went up my spine at the image.

I lifted the magazine with one hand, and put the other between my legs.

My skirt was lifted, exposing my panties to my brother, peeking through my door.

My fingers worked aside the elastic band, across my thin patch of fur.

Meeting my sex, my fingers explored my labia, running along the edge.

A gentle push, and they penetrated my labia, ever so slightly.

I worked them inside me more, finding wetness, lubricating them, then following my labia higher.

Arriving at my clit, my fingers started working, massaging in slow circles.

I closed my eyes, putting the magazine down. The boys were boys, and I was no longer 14. They didn't thrill me, but my brothers eyes on me did.

Taking my now free left hand, I brought it down, and placed it against my clit, using my right hand to instead penetrate me.

Pushing my fingers in, then pulling them out, imagining them glistening with my dew.

Pinch my clit slightly, giving it a little tug, I moaned, the sound floating on the air.

My hands sped up, thrusting inside me faster, as deep as I could get them. The fabric of my panties strained as they worked my pussy hard. Harder. Harder.

My hands lifted and landed, over and over, grinding my clit, massaging it, playing with it, harder. More.

My fingers pushed my panties down, slightly, straining for room to plunge in, over and over.

I curled my middle finger, aiming it towards the top of the vagina, towards my stomach, rubbing hard. My panties twisted sideways, bits and pieces of my pussy showing here and there. Flashes of my brother, watching me, spiraled through my head.

I lost myself in the image of him, watching me, imagining him in the room with me, drinking in the sight of me, my fingers working my pussy.

Faster.

Push it.

Pull it.

Tease it.

Please it.

A full throated mixture of scream and moan escaped me as I felt myself being pushed over the bring, felt my body shudder as my mind floated on my intoxicating climax.

As my body calmed down, I took another peek at the door. It was now closed.

9/29/2014 12:48 End of the chapter. Please look for Chanter 10 soon.

Brother, oh brother! (Fantasy written to someone)

So, someone wrote a message to me, and seems to like the whole brother/sister thing. To me, it doesn't seem that big of a deal. They are just a person. It is really only taboo and exciting because society says it is bad. When I lost my virginity to my cousin, it wasn't exciting because he was my cousin. And, well, we weren't completely aware of what we were doing, but that is another matter. So, I wrote this to someone who had a brother/sister fantasy going on. Sorry, it is short, and not a complete idea. Maybe I should write more on it sometime.



I watch you, in your room, holding my panties, stroking yourself. Peeking through your door, you naughty boy. What are you doing with my panties?

I watch, fascinated, finding myself getting a little warm. Why do I feel funny between my legs?

You are looking at something. What? Is that a picture of me? Holding my panties, rubbing it against your penis, looking at my picture?

So bad. Why am I so hot? My eyes stay glued to you. I know I shouldn't watch you, but I can't turn away. Fascinated, as you rub faster. I can imagine you, imagining me, while you masturbate. Shouldn't I feel disgusted, my brother thinking of me like that? Then why can't I look away?

So hot. I have the urge to reach down. To touch myself. Watching you, rubbing, eyes open, closed, open again. You do have a nice body. How come I never noticed that?

So hot. I feel wet. Why do I feel wet? Why does watching my brother, doing this, make me feel so hot, so wet?

(For those of you who feel this is just a little teasing, but not enough pleasing, I am trying to make it up to you by writing an entire story around brother/sister love)

The NSA is watching you, and all your dirty little activities (Spying Fantasy)

So, many of you have probably heard about the NSA spying revelations.

One particular story caught my attention: http://blogs.wsj.com/washwire/2013/08/23/nsa-officers-sometimes-spy-on-love-interests/
Of course, this also mingles with a couple other stories:
https://www.aclu.org/technology-and-liberty/whats-wrong-public-video-surveillance (Check out the part titled Voyeurism )
http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/story?id=5987804&page=1#.UbYGdfZAREw

So, all together, not only is the NSA spying on us all, they are also listening in on our naughty activities for their own personal pleasure.

Now, everyone should be outraged by our invasion of privacy, but me, well, you know where my mind goes. I can just picture the following (No, I have no idea if they can do all of this, I am just reconstructing how I imagine it, and yes, thinking of this happening does turn me on, the thought that they might be doing this to me, but at the same time disgusts me. We are suppose to be secure in our person and home, yet the very government who is suppose to be made for the people, by the people, and of the people, lie to us, spy on us worse than even the Nazi's were capable of, all in the name of "a little security". It is a disgusting violation of our constitutional rights, that creates a human rights violation that the US likes use to claim why they are better than China, North Korea, yet they engage in it themselves, and flat out lie to the American people, the people they are suppose to represent. Anyways, enough ranting, on with my dirty little story):

"...and now I am licking your pussy."

click

"What was that noise?"

"I don't know, but I am almost there. Moan for me sweety."

"Ooooohhhhh, yes, lick it! Lick my clit! Put your fingers in my pussy you dirty boy!"

"Mmmmm."

click

Somewhere at a data center, two men grin ear to ear, listening in on the conversation. Punching in a phone search, they discover my name. Searching again they find my drivers license, then do a name search to find my Facebook.

"Nice!"

"Yeah, we need pass this to the next shift. They should be in soon, wonder if their call will last long enough."

"We always have the recording, if they finish too early."

They look up my IP provider, then track down my IP address.

"Hey, she has a webcam!"

"Turn it on, turn it on!"

Using one of the exploits in my computer, they gain access to my webcam.

"OMG, look at her! She is gorgeous, and naked! Look at what she is doing with that vibrator!"

The guy working the terminal hits the record button, recording me masturbating to my lovers voice, as he whispers naughty, dirty things in my ear.

Their replacements come in, and they quickly flag them over.

"Look at what she is doing! O god, I would love to be that vibrator."

They discuss me, references made of my actions, my breasts, all while, unknown to me, they silently record.

Back at home,

"I'm cumming!"

"Yes baby, cum for me, cum on me, in me, fill me up!"

I climax, listening to his moans and pants as he cums, working my vibrator, mashing it against my clit, then into my pussy, back and forth until I too climax, toes curling, as I lay there, shaking and helpless. All the while, my actions are being passed around in a data center in the opposite side of the country.

One agent is instantly enamored. My voice files, my webcam feed, are all offloaded onto a USB stick, then he leaves his terminal and goes home, logging into the system remotely.

He fires up my webcam, watching me undress for my shower, then coming back out, drying off my wet body.

After a restful night, I wake up, and the webcam fires up again as I wake my sleeping laptop.

Putting a tap on my phone, he listens in on my conversations, mundane, routine, my mom, my boss, my clients. He watches me, tracks me, hopping from CCTV to CCTV, on the subway, in my apartment lobby, watching me, admiring my dress, my legs, the cleavage exposed by my low cut shirt.

He watches me at work, as I make my way to the bathroom, and activates my cell phone camera, watching me watch my phone, reading about the latest bullshit lies from the NSA, as I relieve myself, splashing and plopping, with unlady like noises coming from me. He watches me as I set my phone to the side, and catches glimpses of my bare ass, or bare thigh, as I pull up my panties, every color being stored and recorded in his dirty little hard drive.

He watches my face contort at my desk, as I start masturbating at my seat, safely alone in the office.

My work laptop camera comes on, and he watches me as my boss bends me over, my dress shoved up, my panties pulled down, my boss thrusting into my pussy until he cums, pulling himself out.

He watches as I bring home my other lover, another woman, and as we use toys on each other, dildos and vibrators, tongues and hands, caressing flesh, pinching nipples, tasting each others pussies. He watches as I watch naughty little videos, rubbing and playing with myself until I climax.

He watches as I bump into people in the subway, as men feel my soft ass, as I almost fall over, grabbing onto the nearest guy while I fondle his package, just a little bit.

He stores and files and replays the videos and pictures and audio files and masturbates to me, cumming day after day.

He passes me around to his friends, letting his friends watch me too, to imagine in their dirty little minds that they are doing to me what they have only watched and heard and recorded.

Too bad they didn't invite me to the party, I would have shown them what they can only watch.