Chapter 17
He said it with this casual vibe that threw me off, like he was just chatting about the weather. But his eyes... they were dark, intense, locked on me without blinking. And I looked. My eyes fixed right there, on his hand wrapped around his cock, hard because of me. Because of what I'd done to him. A heat surged through me, a wave of desire so strong I felt it hit between my legs, my pussy throbbing on its own. My fingers, covered in soap, froze for a second. A nervous laugh slipped out of my throat, rough, almost a choke. I wasn't ready for something this intense right then. My heart was pounding, my whole body felt like it was on fire, but I had to play it off like it was all a joke, couldn't let on how much it turned me on, how bad I wanted to watch him stroke himself while he watched me.
"Show me how you do it."
The water kept pouring down on me, but I'd stopped washing, my coordination just gone. All my focus was on him, sitting on the toilet with his hard dick out. I'd never seen a guy jerk off live, only in porn, and I knew that shit wasn't real, not like how people actually do it. He was gripping just below the head, with short, precise strokes, his eyes glazing over, switching between what he was doing and my body.
I rinsed off the soap quick, grabbed my towel, and stepped closer to him.
"Is it good like that?"
He let out a breathy "yeah..." almost too quiet to hear, his face twisted in pure bliss. And then I got an idea. I wanted to learn how to jerk a guy off, do it right. I'd given head to two dudes before, and they said it was good, but who knows if that was just to boost my ego? My brother sure as hell wouldn't hold back on teaching me, and who better to show me how to give a proper handjob than a teenage pro at it?
"Jonathan, teach me how to do this?" I asked, shocked at my own ballsiness, the words tumbling out in a rush of adrenaline.
He looked at me, I'm not sure if he fully got it, but he nodded.
"Then take off your shorts and shirt. Come on."
I gave the order and stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around me as I dried off fast. The hair I'd planned to wash? Totally forgotten. I did it all while watching my brother strip slowly, clearly nervous and embarrassed.
I crouched between his legs, him still on the toilet seat. He kept stroking, and I watched close, trying to memorize every move, every bit of pressure.
"Can I?"
"Nicole, you're crazy," he blurted out, his voice thick with guilt that almost made me back off.
For a second, the shame hit hard, and I thought about quitting. But then that forbidden thrill kicked in, the electric buzz of crossing the line, and the safety of being with him... it was all so intense, so damn good. Knowing he thought it was wrong gave me this weird confidence, the sure thing that nothing would go wrong unless we got caught. There was love there, a mutual understanding that made it all feel safe.
My hand took over from his, wrapping around his cock right where he'd been holding it. I started mimicking the rhythm, the motion he'd shown me. His head thumped softly against the tile behind him, his arms went limp at his sides, and a deep groan of pure pleasure escaped his lips. He was totally surrendered to me, vulnerable. It was like, by holding his dick, I'd gained the power to do anything to him.
My whole body was tingling. My face felt numb, and this intense heat was burning me up inside. My pussy ached with horniness, this animal urge to shove something inside me, anything, to ease the hunger building there.
"Doesn't it need to be wet?" I asked, curiosity overriding the nerves.
I'd heard every guy loves it wet, slippery, or else it could hurt. I was totally clueless, so the question just came out natural.
"You can... wet it... yeah... it's good..." he answered, his voice dragging, every word a fight against the pleasure my hands were giving him.
He didn't look at me, keeping his head against the cold tile, arms limp at his sides like he'd given up any control.
My focus locked back on my task, on the power I had over him. I looked at the cock in my hand. It wasn't huge, but it was perfect size, proportional, with subtle veins standing out under the smooth skin. The head was pink and swollen, begging for attention. I kept the motion going a bit longer, watching how he reacted to every touch, every change in pressure. The idea of using spit felt too clinical, too detached. What I really wanted was to taste him, feel the texture, the real heat.
Without warning, I leaned in and traced my tongue slow and wet around the tip of his dick, then swallowed the whole head into my mouth. The taste was light, salty, and the warmth surprised me. His reaction was instant and wild. A loud, sharp moan of shock and pleasure echoed in the bathroom. His whole body tensed up. He jerked his head off the wall and his eyes, wide now, met mine. The look was pure shock, disbelief, but behind it, a flame of desire so hot it burned away any doubt left between us.
The shock in his eyes turned to a hunger that matched mine. In that moment, something in me snapped. The last thread of restraint, the last reminder that we were siblings, that this was wrong, just unraveled. I wasn't just curious anymore; I was starving.
My mouth dove down hungrily, taking him as deep as I could, no technique, just raw instinct. The sound from my throat was a growl, something animal I didn't know I could make. My hand, which had been copying his rhythm, now set its own, firm and fast, synced with my head bobs. I was in a trance. Every moan from him fueled me, every buck of his hips invited more.
I switched back and forth with desperate urgency. When my mouth needed air, my hand took over, squeezing, sliding up and down with fresh force. And when I caught my breath, I attacked with my mouth again, sucking, licking, nipping the skin gently, lost in the feel of him against my tongue.
In my head, it was all "Nicole, you cock-sucking slut, you're blowing your own brother, you whore," and the thought turned me on even more. Every forbidden idea just ramped up my desire. I sucked him with fierce intensity, delirious from every moan slipping from his lips and the spasms running through his body. It was like I was in a trance, totally lost in the pleasure I was giving and getting.
At some point, his body went rigid, and he tried to say something, leaning forward and tapping my head. He wanted to warn me he was gonna cum, but the words wouldn't come. His eyes were wide, full of intense, desperate need. I just gripped his dick harder, dead set on not letting him pull away. I sucked wet and deep, letting him hit almost my throat, which Gustavo had bruised earlier. The pain just amped the pleasure, making every move more intense and overwhelming.
Then the jet hit. Straight, strong, and hot, making me gag and pull off to breathe. The salty taste filled my mouth, and for a second, I was breathless, totally overwhelmed by the intensity. I let go with my mouth but not my hands, keeping up the steady handjob, feeling every pulse and spasm as he came.
"Stop, stop, stop..." my brother tried to get me to quit, laughing and shaking from the aftershocks. His voice was a mix of fun and exhaustion, like he couldn't believe what just happened.
"Damn, that was a huge load, do you cum like that by yourself?" I asked, still panting, tasting him lingering in my mouth and the heat of the moment still throbbing between us.
And things didn't stop there...