When the Need Strikes – Chapter 2

Petra:

I couldn’t believe it. Four days later he was back again.

I let him in, of course—with four million dollars on the line, how could I not? And besides, he was only human…I knew how hard it was for guys to go without getting off. I mean…well, I’d been struggling a little myself.

Not that I’d ever admit it, of course. No, as far as my brother was concerned, I was flying through this without effort. But with every day it was getting more and more difficult, and the temptation to just rub my legs together in just the right way, to slip a finger or two under the waistline of panties…

But I had to stay strong. The amount of money on the line was truly ridiculous, and all I had to do was withhold from pleasuring myself. For two million dollars, I’d be willing to do anything.

Including, it seemed, jerking off my brother.

Like I said, I understood his urges. I’d managed to hold back so far, but realistically…I didn’t know how much longer I could continue to ignore my needs.

I let him in, sat him on my bed, and pulled out another pair of gloves. After Mason DeGraves had made us the offer, I’d tried to cover every possibility—I hadn’t told Craig, but I was prepared for him to urgently need my attention in my room, or at school…I’d even carefully hidden a kit in the family car, in case we went away somewhere and hormones struck.

I figured if I told him, he’d take it as an invitation, and I really didn’t want this to be anything more than a last resort. And after last time, I’d added something else to the kit as well.

“A condom?” Craig asked, a sad look upon his face.

“Seriously?” I replied, one eyebrow raised, and he saw what I was getting at and shut up immediately. He pulled his pants down, his cock came into view, and I rolled the condom on, lubed it up, and began pumping.

His instructions had been pretty basic, but I remembered exactly what he liked. I knew the condom would reduce sensitivity, but compared to…well, it was worth a bit of extra effort.

As I stroked him, I tried to think of something else. I really didn’t want to focus on the cock in my hand, or the fact that it was the first member I’d touched since my ex and I broke up…

Here’s the thing. I don’t masturbate an excessive amount—maybe once or twice a week? I don’t really keep count. I don’t get particularly horny when I’m single…but when I’m with a guy, it’s a whole other story.

Again, I’d never tell Craig this, but I find cocks to be super hot. It’s something about the look of them, the touch of them, the taste of them…I just like cock. I’m straight as they come—normally, my proclivities wouldn’t be a bad thing, but the longer my hand was wrapped around Craig’s, the harder it was to ignore that what I was doing was pretty much one of my favorite things.

And the more I thought about the cock in my hand, the more turned on I got. God damn it, I never thought that “liking cock” would be something that could come back to bite me in the ass…but of course, I never expected to be forced into touching my brother’s.

I’d been shocked, last time, when he’d…y’know…but again, the act is sort of a turn-on for me. I love cock-worship videos, and my favorites are always the ones where the girl got a load blown all over her face. My last boyfriend had enjoyed it just as much as I had, and in the last few months, I’d even considered paying him a visit, just for old time’s sake.

If I was able to masturbate, I’m sure I’d have easily been able to get the whole thing out of my system. But 14 days had really started to take their hold on me—I’d hoped it would just go away after a while, but it had kept building and building and building, and now just the simple fact that there was a cock in my hand was starting to turn me on in itself.

I felt like a pervert, some kind of sick fuck who was actually enjoying getting her brother off. At the same time, a small part of me couldn’t help but reason “Hey, if you have to do it anyway, you might as well get some pleasure out of it…”

The thoughts wouldn’t stop racing through my mind—I was conflicted and aroused and angry at myself, and it wasn’t until I realized that Craig had been talking to me for a while that I snapped out of it.

“Petra?” he was saying, and I looked at him in a weird, guilty shock. He’d been so much more assertive lately…just to add to the humiliation I was feeling, I even managed to find that to be a turn-on.

“Yeah?” I said, acting as aloof and annoyed as possible.

“I said slow down. Pay attention, would you?”

Two weeks ago, I would have snapped at him, told him I didn’t have to keep going at all. But something indefinable had changed in our dynamic, and all I did was nod, apologize, and turn my efforts back into getting him off.

“The sooner I get him off, the sooner I can get him out of here” I told myself, but a part of me didn’t want him gone.