You are Alabaster Soliloquy, vexillologist and meringue aficionado.
You wake up just after 10 PM. Bleary-eyed, you leave the dining room and head for your bedroom, where you remember that you've got something vitally important to do.
A Certain Highly-Anticipated H-OVA has just hit the internet. And no matter how much poon you get nowadays -- consensual and non-consensual -- you wouldn't miss j/o-ing to this for anything. Waiting for this OVA to come out has been the highlight of your year so far.
You strip naked and bust out the good lube, excited for some self-loving. But to your dismay, you soon discover there's only 3 seeders and 20,000 leechers for the file.
You can't take being blueballed like this -- and you really don't want to give Whitney a booty call. What's a guy to do?
You sit at your computer desk, swinging your feet and mumbling curses under your breath. Your erection is rapidly flagging.
Seed, goddamn it!
No dice. Not happening.
Out of sheer desperation, you grab your laptop and get dressed again. Perhaps being in the living room or the dining room will strengthen the wifi connection? Then you can get the file from the seeders faster... somehow... right?
Completely absurd, but you have no options remaining. Your dick demands satisfaction.
You sit down at the dining room table again. The lights are on and your father is here now. You figure Mom must have been feeling a little sore over his decision to skip dinner and ousted him from the bedroom in retribution. As always, he reads the newspaper, his face concealed by the broadside.
Your luck down here is no different than your luck upstairs. The fact is, when 20,000 people are trying to download a 1 GB .mkv from only 3 people, it's going to take a while.
You throw your head back and groan. Torture is what this is. Now you know how the prisoners at Guantanamo feel. George Walker Bush is a murderer.
So of course, in your hour of greatest need, it's none other than your older sister Cerise who comes down from her room to menace you further.
"Lookie here," Cerise says sarcastically. "Mr. Magorium finally came out of his Masturbatorium."
"As opposed to your bedroom, which is the very model of nunlike chastity."
Cerise grabs a beer from the fridge and yawns. She scratches her ass. "Forget it. I was just under the impression that you kept to your room when you weren't out getting diddled by lesbians or being stalked by quiz nerds. Guess I was wrong."
"Of course you were. I have friends, unlike you. In fact, I have an immensely rich social life that includes not only-- hey! What the fuck are you doing?" you try to slam the laptop's monitor shut, but too late: Cerise leans over and sees your torrent client.
She smirks. "And this rich social life includes A Certain Highly-Anticipated H-OVA?"
"That's an invasion of privacy, what you just did. I could technically have you arrested by the FBI for hacking."
"That thing came out, what, 12 hours ago? You must be feeling pretty blueballed right now." Cerise snickers.
"And just how would you know the release schedule for A Certain Highly Anticipated H-OVA?" you say accusingly. "Is this karmic retribution, maybe? Maybe you're feeling blueballed, too."
"Who, me?" Cerise says with an exaggerated lilt, pressing her fingertips to her chest. "Not at all. My download finished five minutes ago. I was about to kick back and enjoy some quality me-time."
You gape at her. "You're lying," you say. "No one has it yet. There's only three seeders."
"You're the liar in this family, not me. I'm just the innocent babe."
Your dad turns the page of his paper.
"Like hell," you say. "If you have the download, then put it on a flash drive for me."
Cerise wags a finger. "Distributing pirated materials carries a much heftier penalty than merely downloading them. I don't want to risk it after all your FBI talk. I don't deal with snitches."
"If you're seeding, you're already distributing it. I could call the FBI anyway."
"I never seed. What do I look like, some fucking goody-goody?"
You pound your fist against the table in frustration. Cerise laughs cruelly.
"I'll tell you what, little brother. Just this once, you can come up to my room and watch it with me. I'll be watching it anyway, so what's one more? Call it -- family movie night."
"You can't be serious. Why would I watch hentai with my own sister?"
"Well, suit yourself," Cerise says, shrugging. She turns on her heels and heads in the direction of the stairs. "Just trying to do my good deed for the day. But sit around waiting for the next six hours if you want. Let your balls turn cyan for all I care."
[ ] I have all the time in the world. I don't need your charity.
[X] Wait! I'll watch it with you.
Cerise wasn't lying. She has a full subbed copy of the OVA:
>[LastRail] A_Certain_Highly-Anticipated_H-OVA_-_01 [AC1233CH]
How she got her hands on it is beyond you. Is she involved with the subgroup somehow?
You wheel your chair into Cerise's room and sit down next to her at her desk as she opens the file.
Neither of you speak through the opening credits. In fact, neither of you speak at all -- period. You feel your heart going doki-doki: now you finally understand the onomatopoeia.
Why did you agree to this?
Too late to back out now. The movie starts in earnest: straight to the good bits.
Frankly, this OVA isn't what you had hoped for -- the tank was way better. The animation is horrendous, even by hentai standards, and the action isn't as enthralling as it could have been. Maybe the only redeeming quality is the subject matter: still mind-meltingly erotic after all these years.
Then of course there's the added awkwardness of watching this with Cerise at your side. You try to ignore her completely and focus on the OVA. But you can't stop stealing sideways glances at her, her pale face bathed in blue light from the screen. Her jaw hangs partly slack the entire time she watches, like a little little kid seeing a magician for the first time.
It's terribly fucking weird to watch your sister's delighted face while listening to the wet flapping of hardcore sex.
What's the protocol, exactly, for watching porn with your sister?
And what if less than 24 hours ago, you made out with her in the shower? What's the protocol, then?
These are questions you can't readily answer, but you know they make you feel a strange subdermal warmth all over and a freefall sensation in your gut. It's a raw, on-edge intensity that watching porn alone never incites, no matter how raunchy. Your dick strains painfully against your jeans.
Maybe Cerise is feeling some of these emotions too; or maybe she's just really into the OVA. Either way, her breathing becomes uneven and huffy, her skin flushed. She leans in so close to the monitor that her nose just about touches the screen.
Cerise's slender hands paw at the fabric of the chair in front of her, flexing and unflexing, as if itching to be employed to some other use.
This continues for a few minutes, Cerise's impatience clearly growing all the while. She huffs and claws at her chair like she's going insane. Then finally she can't take any more and her hands start roaming around her body.
She crosses her arms and hugs her shoulders, as if cold. Then tiring of this, she runs her fingertips sensually up and down her sides and belly. She holds a palm to her chin and gnaws her lower lip. Her breathing is almost as loud as the OVA. She never takes her eyes from the screen.
With a moan, she starts massaging her full and fleshy breasts through her tee. It becomes clear to you that she's not wearing a bra -- typical Cerise. She squeezes her thighs together in a long, slow, masturbatory rhythm that you can tell has all her force behind it. Her leg muscles strain and flex.
It's because of these lewd little movements-- definitely more than the movie-- that you're achingly hard and leaking like a broken faucet in your underwear. At some point, you kind of stopped watching the movie entirely.
Without forewarning, Cerise stands and kicks her jeans off. Her skin is the color of milk and as smooth as porcelain in the glow of the monitor. She wiggles out of her panties next, but only pulls them to her ankles before falling back into her seat to glue her eyes on the action again.
You can see her genitals and she makes no attempt to hide them from your leering view. Her pussy is sopping wet and the lips are engorged. You can smell her excitement -- not entirely unlike sweat perhaps, a bit acrid and tangy, but utterly intoxicating. You feel dizzy.
Cerise grabs a vibrator from her desk and clicks it on with zero shame or heistation. The buzz all but drowns out the moaning bitch on-screen. Cerise holds the vibrator to her clit and slinks forward in her seat, bucking her hips lightly against the toy. She writhes and chews her lip so hard you think she'll bleed.
Cerise throws her head wildly from side to side. Finally she lets it slump back completely and wrenches her eyes shut, basking in the feelings coming from her cunt. With a free hand, she pulls up her shirt, baring her tits, and pinches one of her nipples.
You're not in any frame of mind to hold back and decide that if Cerise can be shameless, you can be, too. Feeling so simultaneously anxious and aroused you could almost faint, you stand on shaky knees just long enough to tug your jeans to the ground. Sitting down, you pull your cock free through the fly in your boxers. There's so much precum that your masturbation makes a wet schlicking noise to match Cerise's. Your strokes even sync up.
"Ahn~" Cerise moans. And that's exactly what it sounds like: a tiny, breathy, involuntary gasp, like the result of an electric jolt passed through her body.
She lifts her ass from the seat. You can see the dark stain of her wetness in the fabric of her chair, and -- with a sick thrill -- you even see a strand of her juices seeping directly from her hole. It glints obscenely in the monitor's light.
You wonder silently what it tastes like, Cerise's excitement. Now you can't stop thinking about diving forward and burying your face in her cunt, and damn all taboos. Your entire body aches to have her on your tongue. It would be searing hot, like the forehead of someone with a fever, and sweeter than sugar -- you could drink it forever and ever, you think.
You masturbate, openly and unreservedly, so fast your hand is a blur. You think about how many times Cerise must have sat in that chair and came, soiling it with her juices just like she is now. The fabric must be soaked through with her filth. In your half-crazed state, you sketch plans to sneak in while she's away and rub your face against the seat, breathing it in: the next best thing to the genuine article.
Cerise's little "ahn~" noises come steadily now, like the clicking of a Geiger counter approaching the detonation site: "ahn~ --- ahn~ -- ahn~, ahn~ ahn~" She twists and pulls at her nipples, alternating between them rapidly. Her meaty inner thighs glisten with her lust.
Then Cerise's mouth gapes in a silent scream. She puts her fingers in her mouth and pulls at her lower jaw as if trying to wrench her mouth open even further. Her spine arches so severely that it goes nearly perpendicular to the chair back. Her clamping pussy is on full display, well-lit by monitor. You can actually see it convulsing-- you can see her entire body convulsing. Her cum runs sloppily down her legs and ass.
Cerise cries out, a high-pitched squeal, yet almost inaudibly low in volume: "Ahhhh--- fuuuuuuuck!!! Fuck!!!"
You gulp and close your eyes, grunting. The sight of your sister cumming herself stupid burns in the back of your eyelids like the after-image of a nuclear bomb. You shudder and feel yourself pass the point of no return. You're about to cum, too.
"Fuck, fuck!" Cerise cries -- not in sexual ecstasy this time, but sudden panic. You open your eyes in time to see her grabbing several wads of tissue from her desktop.
"Stop! Don't cum in my bedroom!" she yells. You shake your head frantically but can't even vocalize any kind of warning -- you're too close to stop. You stare at her with your legs spread wide and jerk your cock as fast as you can.
"Goddamn it!" Cerise says.
She quickly palms the tissue and presses it to the head of your pulsing cock. Feeling her touch you, even through all those layers of paper, is enough. You grip your cock around the base and let yourself blow to your heart's content, rope after rope of semen pouring into Cerise's hand. You push your hips against her, reveling in the pressure of her open palm against your cockhead. You cum so hard you think you might lose your mind forever.
"Cerise!" you moan. "Cerise, Cerise!"
When you're done cumming, you can't do anything at all but slump back in your chair, exhausted.
Cerise tosses the used tissue on the desk with a sneer. "I told you that you could watch it with me," she says. "I didn't give you permission to start squirting cum all over my room like some kind of fucking animal."
You pant and heave. Your mouth is too dry to speak; your mind is too frazzled to formulate a snippy response.
Your cock is still hard.
Cerise stands up and disappears from the room. Vaguely, you're aware of the sound of her rummaging through your bedroom, but the post-orgasm high still hasn't worn off and you don't care to investigate.
She returns a moment later, still naked from the waist down, carrying your favorite onahole and your supply of KY jelly.
"I didn't know you knew about those..." you murmur, delirious. You're too far gone to care about this new invasion of privacy.
Cerise clacks the lid of the KY open and spurts some of it into the onahole. She rubs it around the inside rim with two of her fingers. She drops the onahole in your lap.
"That thing has a closed end," Cerise says. "So I won't have to worry about you making such a fucking mess. Cum inside that thing all you want."
"It's a little late for this, don't you think?"
"Don't be stupid," Cerise says, sitting down. "This is family movie night. Aren't you up for a marathon?"
You glance dazedly down at the onahole, taking it in one hand and considering it. Cerise grabs her still-buzzing vibrator from the desk.
"Sure," you say. "Marathon it is."
Cerise opens another video file. You seat yourself balls-deep in the onahole with a satisfied, sensual groan. Cerise rubs the vibrator against her clit.
The evening is still very young.
MEANWHILE...
Walking home, disheveled and cum-splattered, all Rose can think about is how her loved ones would react if anyone saw her like this and word got out.
She would become a laughingstock. All her prestige and power at North High... gone, just like that.
So she walks home only after night descends, traveling nearly five miles, keeping to back alleys and side streets.
Arriving at her gated suburban community, she sneaks into her house through the maid's entrance a bit after 11 PM.
Thankfully, her parents -- attorneys by trade -- are morning people. They believed her text message that she was staying late to work on a project, and they're already asleep by the time she comes in.
Rose hurries up the marble staircase to her ivory-carpeted bedroom. She tears her soiled clothes from her body and sets her bathroom's shower to scalding.
She sits down at the back of the tub, legs splayed apart, as the shower runs at full blast. Her entire body aches and throbs from the violence earlier today. She has a migraine; her wrists are bruised; her back is sore.
On the verge of vomiting, she sets to the revolting work of scooping Alabaster's cum from her still-reddened pussy.
Under the bathroom's warm amber light, Rose holds her palm in front of her face. She spreads her fingers and watches intently as Alabaster's jizz spidewebs between her knuckles.
These are the viscous, odorous strands of filth that just sullied her. She gawks at them -- examines them -- entranced and horrified.
I'm ruined, Rose thinks to herself. She closes her eyes. I let a man dominate me. I let him use my body. I let him squirt his filthy seed inside me...
And even still, she can't help but feel something strange, something other than disgust, as she breathes in the stench of Alabaster's seed -- this stench that's been cloying at her brain all night, ever since Alabaster and his crazed rapist girlfriend left her sobbing on the floor of the band room.
What's happening to me?
She opens her eyes and stares again at the ropes of cum hanging between her fingers.
I wonder...
She draws her hand slowly closer.
I... I wonder what it...
She sticks out her tongue -- daintily, just the tip -- and then, leaning toward her waiting palm--!!
She stops short. With a grimace, she holds her hand underneath the shower stream to wash the cum away for good.
Get ahold of yourself.
She waits for her breathing to return to normal. Only now does she realize she's been panting.
This isn't over.
Rose scoots forward and lets the shower's scalding water wash over her body. She draws her knees up to her chest, hugging them.
I'm going to get him back for this.
I won't submit to some fucking man. I don't care who he is.
Rose rests a cheek on her kneecaps and looks at the pile of ruined clothes on the bathroom floor beside the tub. Hundreds of dollars down the drain. That outfit was brand new. She can never wear it again.
Sitting on top of the pile is the vibrating egg they instructed her to wear to school tomorrow. It's metallic pink and shines in the light. It looks so innocuous, so cute -- in another context it would have titillated her. Now it taunts her.
I won't, she decides. I won't do it. I'm not going to be their toy.
But then she imagines the expressions of her fellow council members, the faculty, the student body -- mom and dad -- when they see the photos Alabaster took of her.
Just once, she appends to her vow. Just this once.
She holds her face between her knees and stares down at her abused pussy.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs aloud. To whom, for what, she has no idea.
Then, to herself, a thought that makes her want to vomit yet refuses to be repressed:
I wonder what it would have tasted like.
END OF INTERLEWD 1