Shooting in Hannah - Version Bravo
by Lubrican
Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14
Chapter Four
She turned it back on the next morning.
It was Saturday so I slept in. When
I woke up I felt good and when I feel
good I like to work out. I was doing
that in the corner of the garage Dad had let me set up a weight bench
in when
Hannah wandered into the garage.
She was wearing a jean skirt and halter top.
It was well into June and things had warmed
up. She came over and stood, watching me
do sit-ups. I had my feet under some
weight and my butt on the bench so I could go down an extra foot.
My hands were crossed on my chest.
"You make that look so easy," said Hannah.
"The more you do it the easier it gets," I
said, rising and falling at the pace I liked.
She sat on a box and watched me. When
I changed over to doing bench presses
she stayed.
"No plans today?" I asked.
"I feel like we need to talk," she said.
"About last night?"
"Yes."
I put the bar on the rests and sat up. I
picked up a ten pound dumbbell and started
working my right biceps.
"Are you sorry it happened?" I asked.
"That's the problem," she said. "I'm not
sorry."
"Why is that a problem?"
"I thought if I did that to you, I'd know what it
was like and then I could use it to control Steve.
Now I know I can't even control myself."
I put the weight down.
"Look," I said. "It seems to me the answer
to your problems is simple. Just don't
go out on dates and you won't get horny and want to do things with
Steve or any
other guy."
She stared at me.
"For such a genius, you sure are stupid."
"Tanya Clarke does it," I said.
"Tanya Clarke is a lesbian," said my sister.
"And you know this because?"
"She doesn't go out with guys," said Hannah.
"That doesn't make her a lesbian," I said.
"It makes her a girl who doesn't have your kind of problem because
she's
smart enough to recognize that guys can be a pain in the ass."
"You're not a pain in the ass," she
said. "Except that girls like you too much and get scared."
That made me feel pretty good. It
was complicated, though. The guy who all
the girls 'just want to be friends with' is the guy with a constant
case of
blue balls.
"Okay," I said. "Some guys aren't
assholes, but you never know until you're around them for a while.
Tanya doesn't gamble and all I'm saying is
that if you didn't gamble then you wouldn't have a Steve problem right
now."
"I don't have a Steve problem," said Hannah.
"I have a Bobby problem."
"What the heck does that mean?" I asked.
"It means I had a really good time last night and
I'm going to want to do it again."
"I don't see that as a problem either," I said,
as I felt blood start coursing into my cock.
"Let me explain it to you, then," she
said. "When I go out with Steve I
get horny, but I don't want to do anything about it when I'm on the
date. He
doesn't like that and eventually, unless I cave, he's going to dump me.
If he
dumps me then maybe, like you say, I'll start going out with some other
guy,
but it won't make any difference. Any
guy I go out with is going to want what Steve wants. Meanwhile, when I
get home
from a date and I'm horny, you're here.
I do like doing things with you, and each time I do
them I want
to do more. So no matter what I do, I'm
going to have to deal with somebody like Steve, and I'm going to want
to do
things I shouldn't do with you. Now do
you see my problem?"
"Half of your problem is that you think you have to
have a boyfriend so people won't think you're a loser. I bring up Tanya
again.
I'm a guy and I know lots of other guys and not one of them think
Tanya's a
lesbian. In fact, you're the first
person who ever said anything like that to me.
Maybe you should talk to her about how she does that.
The other half of your problem is that you
like fooling around and I'm the only guy right now you feel like you
can fool
around with. You've got the rest of the
summer and one more year of high school to get through and then you'll
go off
to college where you can be on the pill and do whatever you want with
whoever
you want. If you think about it, why
would you care that much what people in this school think about you? They're not
going to college with you. A year from now nobody in this town will
even think
about you. What they think about you in
the next year won't mean squat."
"Okay, I get that," she said. "But what I think about me does mean squat."
"And you think you're a pervert," I said.
"No. What I think is that if I keep doing stuff with
you I'm not going to be a virgin when I get to college!" That
last
part was yelled and I winced because the garage doors weren't
insulated.
I stood up and went over to her as she started to
cry. I put my arms around her and she
kind of melted against me. But only for a second. She pushed back and
said,
"Ewww, you stink. You need a shower."
"Okay, but don't go anywhere. I don't agree with
your premise about your virginity and we need to talk about this some
more."
"Okay, but it won't help," she said, wiping her
cheek with the heel of her hand.
"Yes it will," I insisted. "I
don't think things are as dire as you
do."
"Go take your shower," she said. "I
won't go anywhere."
I went into the house and to my room. I
stripped down and tossed my sweaty clothes
in the hamper. In the past there had
been some discord about sharing a bathroom with my sister.
She spent hours in there and sometimes I had
to use Mom and Dad's, or the one in the hallway just off the living
room. It
was a half bath, with no shower or tub.
In this case, though, I could use our shower so I went in there
and got
the water running. I didn't lock the
door. I never locked the door. That had
been a bone of contention in the past, too.
More than once Hannah walked in on me while I was taking a leak
or
sitting on the toilet and went complaining to Mom about it.
She wouldn't be complaining today, though, which was made
obvious when, right in the middle of my shower, my sister joined me.
It isn't a big enclosure, and there's no way,
if two people are in there, they can avoid touching each other.
Hannah's intent wasn't to avoid touching.
"I thought you didn't want to be tempted," I
said as she slid her arms around me and pressed the front of her body
to the
back of mine.
"That's not what I said at all," she said.
Her hand smoothed over my chest and my
nipples tingled as her hand rubbed over them.
"Don't you think this is dangerous?" I asked.
"Mom and Dad went to look at garage sales," she
said.
"You said you want to do things you shouldn't.
If you think you shouldn't do something, that
means you don't really want to."
"That's not true, either," she said. Her
right hand moved down and my balls
tightened in anticipation. By the time
her hand found my cock it was iron hard. "I know we
shouldn't do this because nobody in the world would say
it's okay. That doesn't mean I don't
still want to do it. I just know we
shouldn't."
"You're making my head hurt," I said. That
wasn't really true. I wasn't even thinking
about my head as her
hand slowly stroked my penis.
She let go of me and turned me around.
"I can't stop doing this, Bobby," she said, as
water streamed down her face. "I can't."
"Then we have to decide how to control it so it
doesn't go too far," I said.
"Which is exactly why I started doing this,"
she said. "So things wouldn't go too far on a date."
"You have your fuck toy," I said.
"Don't call it that," she said as she slid her
hands under my arms and pressed her breasts against my chest.
I could feel my cock touching her, but it was
on her abdomen. "That's gross."
"You have your ... little friend?"
"That's better."
"You have that, and I can learn to get you off other
ways," I said.
"What about you?" she asked.
"Getting me off is easy," I said.
"I'm horny," she said, looking up at me through
squinting eyes.
"I have an idea," I said.
"What?"
"I've never kissed you. Maybe
kissing me will be too weird and it
will calm you down."
She closed her eyes.
"Maybe," she said. "It does
seem a little freaky to think
about doing that."
I didn't point out that we were naked, in the shower,
with my boner pressed against the skin right in front of her womb, only
two or
three inches away from something it should never have anything to do
with. That was a lot freakier than
kissing, at least
in my book.
So I kissed her. I half expected her to pull away and go
"Ewwww" but that's not what happened.
Let's just say it was a good kiss.
And a long one. When she pulled
her lips from mine her eyes were still closed.
"Nope," she said, dreamily. "Not freaky at
all."
Great.
I felt something leak through my cock.
And that's when I realized that we did, in fact, have a
problem.
We got out of the shower and dried off, bumping into each
other as we did so. Hannah's hair is
long and straight and drying it involves a time-consuming process of
her
bending over to let it hang straight, and pressing it between folds in
a
towel. She combs it during this process.
So imagine, if you will, standing behind a good looking
teenage girl, bent over for an extended period, with her pussy peeking
out at
you under a round, firm, bubble butt.
I was masturbating when she turned and saw me.
"Don't do that," she ordered.
"I need to do this," I said.
"I want to do it."
"If we're going to solve this problem of yours, you shouldn't do that."
She stood up and flipped her hair around to her back,
expertly. It made her breasts jiggle a little.
"That wouldn't solve anything because I'd still want
to do it. Then I'd just be
frustrated."
"If I get this thing soft, that will take certain
potential issues off the table," I suggested.
"I agree. I
just want to be the one who makes it soft."
I heard in her voice what I'd heard hundreds of times
before. Hannah had made up her mind and
she would not be swayed.
So I went into her room and lay on her bed and said,
"Okay. It's all yours."
I expected her to jerk me off again, like she'd done
before. And she did do that for a while,
lying beside me like she had before.
"I never wanted to give a guy a blow job
before," she said. "I thought I'd puke if I ever did."
"I can understand that," I said. The
idea of sucking a dick was unpalatable to
me, too.
"But then last night, when you were in my mouth, I
didn't feel like puking at all."
Maybe she didn't expect me to comment. I don't know.
What I do know is that before I could, she
leaned forward and slid her lips over the tip of my penis, at the same
time
pulling the foreskin down with her hand.
I had never had a blow job before. Gentlemen,
let me just say that if you've
never had one either, I recommend it highly.
Her lips slid farther along the shaft of my cock and she
sucked, gently at first and then more strongly.
Her lips traveled back up to the tip and pulled off.
Her lips pursed and she kissed the tip.
Then she looked up at me.
"It's much better when it's hard," she
whispered, jacking my penis several times.
I replied in some alien language that's comprised of
grunts, sighs, whines and guttural sounds.
"You like this," she said, smiling.
"Duh," I huffed.
"I do too," she said, and went back to sucking
my dick.
While women don't automatically know how to jerk a guy off, apparently there's a gene in females that tells them how
to do what she was doing. I was
absolutely positive she'd never done this before, but she had me ready
to pop
within three minutes. I reached for her still-damp hair and gripped it,
pulling. It must have hurt because she
took her mouth off of me and frowned.
"I'm ... about to make ... a mess ... in your
mouth," I gasped.
She licked her lips.
I could see her thinking about this, the gears turning in her
head,
weighing the choices she had. Whether to try something new ... that
might
result in a frenzied rush to the bathroom to hurl ... or which might
not be
that bad. She'd thought just putting her
mouth on me would be horrible, and learned that was far from true.
Maybe the
"mess" I was about to make wouldn't be that bad either.
Of course she could finish me with her hand
and put off the oral decision until later.
This was what I was imagining her thinking about.
Turned out I was wrong.
"I don't want it soft, yet," she said,
abandoning my penis entirely.
She scooted up to mold her body against mine, moving my
arm so she could lie on top of it. Her
breasts pressed hotly against my ribs.
"Kiss me again," she said.
What ensued was the quintessential make-out session that
horrifies most parents when they imagine their child doing it out on a
date. When we started kissing, our lips
seemed to be magnetized to each other, able to move, but not separate.
Not only was kissing her brother not
uncomfortable for Hannah, but Frenching him wasn't either.
Meanwhile my hands were sliding all over the parts of her
body I could get to. One breast, with a
perked-up nipple, got a lot of attention.
She especially liked it when I pinched the nipple and rolled it
between
my thumb and first two fingers.
I also stroked her belly, using the tips of my fingers
like a little plane coming in to settle on that landing strip, jerking
to a
stop just before the 'plane' fell into the valley that was her split.
Her hips lifted several times and she moaned
into my mouth. The third time I did that her hand came to land on top
of mine
with an iron grip and pushed my hand down.
Her right leg lifted, like she was doing some kind of
exercise and her knee bent so her heel could land on the bed and
support the
leg. It left her wide open for my
finger, the middle one this time, which had magically become a spelunker instead of an airplane.
The spelunker explored her wet cavern,
seeking here and there for stalactites and stalagmites, but finding
only smooth,
slick surfaces to slide around on.
Her hand found my prick again and gripped it, rather than
stroking it.
I had pulled my finger out of her to use one finger to
circle and play with her clit when she broke the kiss, panting.
"I need my toy," she whined.
"Let me do something else," I said.
I had always wondered what it would be like to eat a
girl's pussy. It's something there's
nothing else to compare with, so you can't know whether you'll like it
or, like
a girl might, puke when you get your first taste. But
she'd done it for me, and I wanted to do
it for her.
I pushed her off of me and crawled between her legs.
She stared at me as I got into position.
She was panting hard and her breasts rose and
fell rapidly. We maintained eye contact
as I slowly pushed my face forward. I
wanted to look at what I was about to touch, but I couldn't break our
gaze. So I stuck my tongue out and used
it like a blind man might use his hands.
As it happened, the tip of my tongue hit her split
precisely, finding first the wrinkled skin protruding from her quim and
then
sinking beyond them into the opening of her vagina.
I had worried about not liking it for nothing.
If anything, my first taste of Hannah's pussy
was instantly addictive. She was
delicious in a way I can't describe. I
took her bulging inner lips between my own and sucked.
The sound she made caused another soothing drip to flow
through my penis.
Basically, I went at her pussy like a hog goes into a
feeding trough. It was messy, but I
didn't care. I found her clit and sucked
that. I practically chewed on her pussy
lips. I stuck my tongue as far into her
as I could get it and rubbed her clit with my nose.
And the whole time she sounded like I was
killing her.
Unfortunately, while we both had a great time, performing
cunnilingus on Hannah was, at that point, only foreplay, and not
something that
would produce an orgasm. Men don't have the gene. Getting her off that way has to be learned, too.
Which is why she rolled over and got her toy out again.
"I have to have something in me," she panted.
I backed off a little and watched as she slid that long,
stiff thing into her pussy, rotating it so the balls crushed her clit.
She groaned and I wanted to jack off, but I
was lying on my stomach and didn't want to move.
"Are you still hard?" she panted.
I nodded.
"Show me."
I got up on my knees and displayed my boner as I watched
her fuck herself with that dildo.
"You wish this was you!" she panted.
I didn't say anything, but now I could grip my cock and I
did that.
"Admit it!" she panted.
"Fuck, Hannah," he groaned.
"That's what you want to do, isn't it? Admit it. You
want to fuck your sister ... like Todd fucks Janet."
"He fucks her?" I gasped. "You
didn't say he fucks her."
"He does," she whined. "And she loves
it."
"We can't do that," I groaned.
"But you want to.
Like me. You want to."
"Okay, maybe, but you know we can't."
She nodded.
"I know, but it's so hot to think about
it." She pulled the latex cock out
of her and held it up. "This could be you." Then,
expertly, she impaled herself with it
again.
I started jacking on my cock. I'd only stroked it five or
ten times before the urge was on me.
I kneed closer to her moving hand. I
don't know why but I wanted to cum on her.
When I spurted I aimed it right at her hand.
It never stopped moving, pulling the rubber
cock out of her and then slamming it back in. I saw one of my spurts
land right
on the shaft and then, a split second later she pushed it back in her.
I stared, dumbstruck as my penis finished dripping.
I'd gotten my sperm on her dildo.
Her dildo had gotten my sperm inside her.
It was devastating in a way I can't describe.
It was the zombie apocalypse and I was
toast. My life was over.
Why, you might ask, did I react that way?
Was I worried that sperm might get her
pregnant?
That wasn't the problem. Not at all.
The problem was that I wanted to get more sperm in
her.
I wanted to do it the old fashioned way.
I wanted to shoot in Hannah.
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