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So you did your research and managed to find an authentic occult bookstore. Curiosity made you summon a Demon Goddess. You were led to the right tome, and took it home, without being asked to pay. When you got there, you began reading through it just for some light research when your entire being was compelled to continue reading. You began casting a summoning spell, in a language you don’t know and, before long, saw me climbing out of the floor.
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I recently learned that in the 1700s, “choking” was used as a medical procedure to cure erectile dysfunction. You idiots will go to all lengths to get that dick hard, won’t you? Who needs oxygen to the brain when you could have a stiffy? Of course, I sort of understand how after you’ve tried it once, it can become addicting.
Those strange tingles it causes, and how everything around you fades into the distance, so all you can focus on is the sensations in your body. Once we start treating your limp noodle with Francie’s tight grip around your throat, you’ll become my little gasper for life.
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I see you, Dirty Daddy. Standing in my bedroom doorway, just watching me. However, I like to pretend I don’t see you there. Sometimes, when I know you are watching me, I’ll take my slinky PJs off and lay on my back. I like to spread my legs open wide and begin to touch myself.
When my back arches and my head is pushing back into my pillows, I can just catch a small glimpse of my Dirty Daddy. His hand is buried in his sweatpants, and I know he’s touching himself too. We get so fucking hot watching each other.
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I’ve never been one to fit into traditional gender roles, so when my newest boyfriend commented that he expected a hot meal to be on the dinner table waiting for him when he got home from work, I simply rolled my eyes. If a man wants a traditional woman, he better be prepared to be a conventional man.
And since I don’t imagine Travis building me a home with a white picketed fence and paying ALL of my bills to support me, the only hot mean he’ll be served is the one between my legs. I didn’t say that, though; I simply kissed him goodbye and wished him a good day at the office.
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My Brother Dough started dating this sexy little candy girl, Cindy. I teased him that his pretty new toy and I looked so much alike that he must be thinking of me when he’s tasting her. Of course, he denied it, but I know he thinks about me in ways he shouldn’t.
Ever since my tits grew in, his girlfriends have been petite blondes with sweet smiles and a seductive gazes. Sound familiar? Yeah, exactly. Doug totally has a forbidden crush on me. I wish he were man enough to just fuck me, but I guess I’ll have to fuck his little candy girl myself and tempt her into a threesome so I can taste my brother’s dick off her pussy.
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A call had come in, asking If I’d be willing to do a tiny bit of modeling for a high price. I love getting paid, and sitting in front of a camera seemed easy enough. So I agreed happily and jotted down the time and place for the shoot. It was just a few days away, and I could hardly contain my excitement. People always think I’m a shy and sweet girl, but I was ready to break out into a star!
My tummy felt odd when I arrived at the hotel where the address had led me. An uncomfortable notion crept through my system, but I shook it off. Just a few pictures and new, crisp hundred-dollar bills in my pocket would make it all worth it.
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You look through the keyhole of my bedroom door as often as you can. I know you do, you fucking perv. Always slinking in the background like a shadow, thinking you won’t be seen, but I fucking see you. Perves like you come with a stench and a skin-crawling sensation girls can’t shake.
Even though you’re handsome and intelligent, all the girls at school won’t give you the time of day. They don’t give you a second glance because they can smell the dried cum in your boxers and because I tell them you’re mine. Not mine like I’m gonna suck your cock or let you stretch my pussy; hell no, you’re my younger brother! That’d be fucking sick.
No, no, no, stupid boy. I tell them you are mine, as in I’m gonna be the one to break your mind teasing and abusing you. I guess “Perv” just runs in the family. Like now, I know you’re staring through that itty bitty keyhole, probably rubbing yourself through your jeans as I pry off my too-tight tank top. I adjust my bra as I move closer to the keyhole, unclipping it so your view of me becomes lost as I get closer and closer. You thought you’d see my tits? Ha, You fucking wish!
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It’s game night, and I can’t help but get excited. I love when we gather around the table for some Table Top Games. You were so thoughtful, bringing snacks for all of us at the table. Everyone looks so cute in their little homemade outfits, dressing up as their characters. My character is very forward, and my outfit stands out quite a bit as the most scantily clad one in the group. I can see everyone’s erections as they approach the table for our Role Playing Game. It’s fun, and I love our time together, but I always have a different kind of role-playing in mind.
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Katie and I park, I shouldn’t have driven, but I knew if I called you for a ride, you’d be mad. So we stumble up the driveway, and Katie giggles that the house is dark and that we got away with it. I shake my head and point, the porch lights on, and I can see your shadow in the rocking chair. Fuck, I grab her arm and tell her we should just go to her house, but she flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder, confident my brother won’t punish me with her there. She’s had a crush on you for a while, and it just makes me sick.
She drags me up the walk, and you stand up with your arms crossed over your chest. “Franny,’ You talk down to me. I hold a hand up to stop you and try to walk past you, but I teeter over into Katie. “Look, look. We’re fine. We’re going to bed. You don’t have to say anything.”
You roll your eyes and tell me how late we are and that you can see I’m wasted, which is inexcusable.
Continue reading “Katie Fingers Me With My Shrunken Brother”
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“W-wait,” My little pet whimpered under me as I lined the thick strap-on under his tail. I wound the leash around my fist and tugged up harder, so his collar pulled against his windpipe. “Hold on a second,” He choked. He tried to push himself up on his hands instead of his elbows to slacken the taunt leash. “Mistress, that one is too big!”
“What was that?” I growled and rammed the strap-on into his tight little pucker. “Pets should only bark.”