By Jocelyn.

The bedroom window frame rattles in annoyance at a fractious wind. I jump, startled, and instinctively smother my priapismic erection with the bed sheet. My heart beats a tattoo, my stomach tightens and I swirl around, seeking the source of the interruption. The window rattles again, and I breath out in relief, relaxing against the pillow and throwing back the sheet once more to revel in my lewd nakedness.

I stroke myself, conjuring up images of Delilah, lithe yet large breasted and voluptuous. I recall a tantalising glimpse of black regulation knickers at school basketball. Fantastic legs. Wondering what it would be like to touch her, kiss her and then insert my tongue…. My heart beat quickens again and I pant short sharp gasps, changing my gentle stroke to a firm grasp, accelerating with an urgent sense of purpose.

“You dirty little fucker….”

I leap in alarm, twisting around.

Delilah, my step sister and two years older, stands at the doorway. Hands on hips, her glistening dark brown eyes narrowing, mirroring a look of contempt on her face. I move to cover myself with the sheet but she lunges forward and jerks it away, leaving me to lie there exposed. Her raven hair frames her face, turning it into a porcelain oval mask.

“You know what mom says…” She stands above me, her head tilted to one side. I can see just under her short cream tennis skirt and an irrepressible urge makes me lean slightly forward so that her white cotton panties slip into view. She giggles.

“Please Delilah.” I’m conscious of my nakedness and, a rigid organ that refuses to deflate.

“Mom says that men who can’t control themselves should be controlled.” She growls. She folds her arms under her breasts pushing them up, imaging her nipples against her thin white T shirt. I swallow, forcing down the inclination to whimper. “Dirty Dick with his naughty prick.” She giggles again. “Mom says filthy little beasts like you should be castrated.” She leans over me, her breasts swinging, and gently cups my testicles in her palm. “Have these cut off.” She whispers, her face barely inches from mine. “Would you like that Richard? Dirty Dick?”

I smell the soft cologne of La Femme, mixed with a hint of sweat from her recent exertions. My penis twitches in anticipation - not unnoticed. She closes her other hand over my shaft and I suck in a sharp breath. “Twenty bucks for a hand job…” She offers.

“What?”

“You heard. I’ll toss you off for twenty bucks.” She kneads me gently, ceasing suddenly as she feels the first hint of response in my testicles.

“Yes, oh God, yes.” I squeak.

“Please!”

“Yes, please, please Delilah.” I widen my legs, in abject surrender. She caresses me, gently at first, playful. Then, grips me lightly, massaging faster, in rhythm with my quickening breathing. I feel the volcanic surge building from my balls. It consumes my entirety, building, building… “Ahhhg”, I cry out as Etna erupts. My eyes close, and I’m aware of her hand releasing me. I can feel the lava of my ejaculate wet on my leg.

“And a bonus, if I let go of your balls.” She hisses, with a sly leer.

“What?”

She squeezes my balls, and a stab of terrible pain shoots from my groin. I freeze, my mouth wide in an Edvard Munch soundless scream. “A bonus? Another twenty?” She insists. “Or you can kiss goodbye to these.”

I nod, like a demented puppet. Unable to speak, paralysed. Delilah, with her free hand, picks up my wallet on my bedside table and extracts two twenties. It would have been my wages for nearly at week of part time work when I used to work at the grocery store.

“If you mention this, I’ll arrange a very nasty accident.” She glowers down at me, slipping the notes into her panties and I glimpse the dark shadowy mound of her pubis under the sheer material. “I’ve friends who will hold you down, whilst I castrate you.” She threatens, wolfishly grinning. “How would you like that? Feel the tightening rubber band around your scrotum? Feel the cold of my sharp knife against your taut skin?”

“No, not at all Del, I’ll tell no one.” I gabble.

“Good.” She says, releasing her grip.

The relief is infinite. “That was wonderful.” I murmur, as the pain recedes, leaving only a residual tide-line memory of that brief spasm of sheer ecstasy.

She turns, gliding to the doorway, where she stops, looking back over her shoulder. “Mind you, maybe I should tell your wife that you still pay your step sister to wank you off… ever since you were fourteen?” She says lightly, cocking an eyebrow.

“No, please Del.” I plead, my erection deflating rapidly.

“Just think, all that time. I reckon that’s what’s called a nice little earner?” She grins, her teeth actress perfect, her eyes alight with mischief, and we both smile at our mutual conspiracy. Mine nervous, hers a superior pout.

I swallow. Her presence is still pumping desire into me, even now. “Next month, when you come for tennis again?” I beg eagerly. “And, you won’t tell Jane – will you?”

Her brow furrows. My heart stops. “If I did, she’d probably do the job for me. Turn you into her subservient gelding.”

“I, I think she would Del, please you won’t say anything?”

“Maybe I’m servicing your dear little Jane as well?” She winks. And is gone, jauntily stepping out through the bedroom door.

I expel a long expectant sigh of carnal anticipation.

End.