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Massaging The Truth free porn video
VERSION ONE
Lori lay in bed thinking about her brother. How as teenagers they had been unusually close and had always gotten along, so unlike most siblings. Of course, any thoughts of her brother always led to their sexual relationship, as they did now. Not for the first time, she wondered if incest ran in the family.
Thinking back, she laughed at the absurdity of it all: a back-rub. It had started with a back-rub. She had come home from softball practice that afternoon with a strained back after yanking a line drive out of the air. She'd felt a twinge coming down, and throughout the rest of the game that twinge had continued to grow worse, until finally she'd asked to sit out the final inning. No problem, the coach had said: Easy, when they were ten runs ahead. The strange part was, the catch hadn't been anything spectacular.
Tom had picked her up and they'd made small talk on the way home. Mom was working late that night, which meant she'd be home sometime after 10. Lori brooded over this, as she needed to talk to her mom about what to wear for the Senior Prom. Kenny Moore had asked her, of course, and she'd said yes. Who wouldn't say yes: Kenny Moore was scorching hot. All she needed now was to convince her mom to let her buy the dress she wanted. The problem kept her occupied all the way home.
While Lori headed for the kitchen for a sandwich and a glass of milk, Tom answered the phone, then shot upstairs to his bedroom to talk in private. The good little sister, Lori hung up the downstairs extension without listening in. She wondered if the girl was Laurie Jamieson, or Tyler whatever her name was. She hoped it was Laurie. She liked Laurie and shared both her first and middle names--at least in pronunciation.
Upstairs, she nearly collided with Tommy coming out of the bathroom. He was down to his normal boxer shorts and T-shirt; Lori shook her head in mock disgust.
"You just got home a minute ago!"
"So what," he said, disappearing into his bedroom. A moment later, before Lori could enter her own room, he reopened the door and stuck out his head.
"You were limping. You OK?"
"I wouldn't be limping if I was OK," she muttered. In a few words she explained what had happened.
"Bummer," Tommy said. "Need a massage?"
Blinking, Lori looked at him. "What?"
"A massage. Rub your back. Make it feel all better?" He mimed a savage attack on her muscles.
"I don't know," she said doubtfully. Kind of inappropriate, her brother massaging her back, she thought. On the other hand, his expression looked innocent enough. Probably she was guiltier of ascribing an ulterior motive than he was of having one. "Sure," she said finally. "A back rub would be great."
"Take your bath first," he said. "Loosen up." The telephone rang and he looked back over his shoulder. "Let me know when you're ready." Without awaiting a reply, he closed the door and a moment later the phone died in mid-ring.
Shrugging, Lori opened her bedroom door and dropped her backpack just inside; it puffed up red dust. Kicking the door closed with her right foot, she pried off her cleats and stripped her red and white jersey off over her head. It also landed with a puff of dust. Reaching behind her, she popped the clasp on her bra and let it fall off. With both hands, she scratched all along the reddened indents in her skin, sighing contentedly. Even sexy bras, which this one certainly was not, were a pain.
Looking to make sure the blinds were closed, and discovering they weren't, Lori covered up and walked hunched over to the window and twisted the blinds closed. She had to be more careful, damn it. Only last week she'd realized after five full minutes that she'd been wandering around topless with the blinds open and her lights advertising what she had on, which was nothing. Bad practice, when someone with the hots for you lived just next door. Peeking out the blinds, she looked at his window now, but could see no one lurking there.
Slipping out of her shorts, and then her panties, Lori picked clean underwear from her top drawer and wrapped herself tightly in her terry cloth robe. On her way to the bathroom, she snatched two towels from the linen closet and draped them over her shoulder. Banging on Tommy's door, she shouted: "I'm showering now! Ten minutes, OK?"
"OK!" he shouted back, sounding distracted. Laurie, for sure, she thought, smiling.
After going pee, Lori twisted open the spigot and held her hand under the spray until it was scalding hot. Turning the knob back a millimeter, she unbelted the robe and let it fall off her shoulders. She caught it one-handed and hung it on the back of the door. She was ovulating, and ovulating meant that anything-- even a robe falling off her shoulders--made her horny. Horny enough to shiver thinking about an open window, she realized.
She stood for a long time with her back to the spray, letting it beat down on her. The wrench had been more in the muscles of her right side, so she concentrated the water there, rubbing up and down gently with her palms. How could a simple snatch be that painful, she wondered? She'd snatched a dozen line drives out of the air exactly the same way and had never felt a twinge. It didn't make sense.
No, a voice whispered at her. Saying yes to the Prom doesn't make any sense. Mom isn't gonna let you go. You're grounded, remember?
"She'll let me go," she protested. "I just gotta handle it right."
Right, the voice jibed. And your ass doesn't look like a buffalo's butt in those new jeans.
"Oh, shut up," she said sourly. Her wide ass was a sore subject, even with herself.
Eventually, she shampooed and rinsed her hair, then lathered in conditioner while she soaped herself. Being horny, she lingered on the tips of her breasts and on that special place between her legs which made her sex the quarry of half the human race; or of half the population of her high school, anyway. She wondered if anyone would ever show enough interest in her to slide in a finger ... or more importantly, an erect penis. She wasn't bad looking, even her brother told her so. So what was the problem?
Shaving her underarms first, and then her legs, Lori sat down on the tub-side and carefully maneuvered the razor over the delicate terrain of her labia.
There used to be a time when you did this only during the summer, she thought wryly. Now, showing even a trace of hair got you giggled at in gym or in the girl's bathroom. Her dark color didn't help; even closely shaved, sometimes there was a shadow.
She rinsed herself, stood up and turned off the spigot. She wrung out her hair and ran her hands down her body to expel the excess water. Why she did this was a mystery to her; probably because it had been so beaten into her by her mother. Get the water off you before you get out of the tub, her mother used to say. I hate coming into a flooded bathroom.
OK, Mom, she thought. Sure.
Flipping back the curtain, Lori grabbed the topmost of the two towels and wound it around her head. She dried herself with the other, and then grabbed her robe, sliding her left arm in the sleeve, and then the right, and then applied deodorant to her underarms. It was then she decided it was too much trouble to take the robe back off to put on her brassiere. Instead, she stuffed the bra into her pocket and stepped into her panties, snuggling them into place.
For years afterward, Lori wondered if the simple act of not donning her bra had triggered events. She also wondered if not putting it on had been a conscious decision, made in order to force the play. Probably, she'd never know the answer. Probably, she didn't want to.
What happened next happened without her awareness. Removing the robe from the back of the door, Lori had inadvertently caused it to swing open an inch. Occupied with her thoughts, she hadn't notice. Someone else had noticed, however.
As with any girl her age, Lori was anything but satisfied with her body. Though filling the cups of her size 34B bra quite nicely, Lori thought her breasts pitifully small and weirdly shaped. Her waist was too thick and her hips and thighs absolutely gargantuan. In reality, her waist was a perfect 24" and her hips a slightly wide 37", certainly nothing to be embarrassed over. And the thighs she found so disgusting had, only moments before, enthralled her older brother with their shapeliness.
Turning, Lori examined her derriere closely in the mirror. She estimated it had grown another inch wider just in the past week. It would have shocked her to know how many of her classmates looked at that shapely behind, and had fantasies of fucking it. Only in her own eyes did Lori find herself unattractive.
"OK," she said, wearily. "Let's get this over with."
Ten minutes later, she lay face down on her bed, waiting expectantly. Tommy had finally hung up the phone, only to have it ring again immediately. "Just a second," he'd said, holding up a finger. That second had extended now to ten minutes.
"Tommy!" she hollered, only to be startled when he answered from three feet away. She raised her head and looked back. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," he said, though his tone said otherwise. "You ready for your back-rub?"
"Finally," Lori said, returning her head to her crossed forearms. She had the inescapable feeling that Tommy had been standing behind her quietly, staring at her rump. It creeped her out a little.
"The shower help?" he asked.
"Immensely," she said. "I could have stayed in it an hour."
"Well, the massage will get rid of the rest of your tightness," he said." On her bedside table he sat a bottle of Johnson's Baby Oil.
"What's that for?" she asked.
"In case, you know, you want to rub lotion onto yourself later."
"Johnson's Baby Oil?" she asked skeptically.
"Um," he said slowly. "Too oily?"
"Yes," she said, returning her head to her forearms. "Thanks, though. And I really appreciate this. I really do."
"It's what big brother's are for," he said.
Lori snorted. Seven minutes. Like that meant anything. And yet, he'd irritated her with it her whole life. Or secretly pleased her, depending upon her mood at the time. He'd made an especially big deal of it the day of their eighteenth birthdays, pointing out that he was legal for the next seven minutes, where she was not. She had rolled her eyes dramatically and shook her head disgustedly-and had fooled no one.
Tom leaned over her awkwardly, then got up and knelt down beside her. He put his hands on her shoulders and applied pressure.
"That OK?" he asked.
"So far, so good," she answered.
Relaxing, she let Tom work his wonders all along her shoulders, her neck, and down to her shoulder blades. So far, he'd been nothing but gentlemanly. She wondered how he'd handle her rib cage, though, and the problem of her breasts. Lying on her stomach like this pushed them out to the sides. Massaging her right side, where she hurt the worst, Tommy couldn't possibly miss them. She wondered how much contact she'd allow before elbowing him in the ribs. She fantasized momentarily about asking him to pull her robe down her back, and it made her shiver.
"You OK?" he asked.
"You tickled me," she said to cover up.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to."
"It's OK," she said, fighting to control a smile. Just don't ask me if I want my bare back rubbed, she thought.
"Do you want your bare back rubbed?" he asked.
Her eyes flew open and she jerked, startled. "What did you say?"
"I asked if you wanted your bare back rubbed.". There was no missing the trepidation--and the hopefulness in his voice.
"Uh ... yeah, sure," she mumbled, without thinking.
Uncrossing her arms and moving them down along her sides, she waited in dismay as Tommy took the collar of her robe in both hands and began drawing it down her back. Rocking obediently side to side, she allowed the front of her robe to separate and waited as he bunched the thick material at the small of her back.
What the fuck are you doing, she demanded of herself. What if he wants to take it off entirely?
The soft inner voice from earlier answered: You have your panties on. What's the big deal?
The big deal, she thought savagely, is that he's my brother!
Tom's hands lay flat on the bare flesh of her shoulder blades. Lori stared at the wall, wondering how she'd come to be rendered topless. She tried to swallow, and found her throat too dry to cooperate.
He's gonna want to take it off, she thought. I just know he is. This was his plan all along, to get me naked.
Well, isn't that what you want, the voice said.
For the first time, Lori faced the question head on. Did she want her brother? Obviously, some part of her did; enough at least to surrender the top of her robe without a fight. The question was, did that part of her want Tommy badly enough to have sex with him? To her dismay, the answer offered up by her subconscious--if the shiver down her spine was any indication--was yes.
"This thing's a pain in the ass," Tommy said, slapping the hump of material at her waist. "Why don't you take it off?"
There it is, she thought. Now what?
"Why? You haven't even touched my lower back," she said, effectively saying maybe.
"Because I need to straddle you to do this right, and the robe'll be in my way."
Straddle me? Mount me, don't you mean?
The answer was either Yes or No, and Lori had to decide. Throwing caution to the wind, she went with her instincts and decided Yes, hoping the wind wouldn't turn into a full-fledged hurricane.
"OK," she said, "but I'll take it off."
Pushing onto her knees, she unbelted the robe and let it fall away. Her heartbeat quickened and there was no mistaking the rush of blood to her face. Also to that place between her legs, which began to tingle maddeningly. Her nipples hardened into flinty points, which she prayed her brother couldn't see. Hurriedly, tossing the robe to the floor, she lay back down and put her arms protectively at her sides. She'd await what happened next.
Will you stop him, if he goes too far, the voice asked? Will you want to?
Leave me alone, she thought back. I have enough trouble without you making more.
In her mind she could see Tommy looking down at her. She observed the long clean lines of her back as it tapered from shoulders to waist, the sharp defining of her rib cage, the sudden out-flaring of the waist into her shapely rear end. The triangle of air clearly visible at the apex of her thighs left no doubt of their slimness. Of course, she saw herself otherwise.
Lori was glad she hadn't chosen a pair of thong panties to wear. The red and gray striped bikinis were skimpy enough. But her embarrassment was tempered by the fact that, for the first time since becoming a teenager, she felt good about herself. Warmth, emanating from the fire burning between her legs, spread throughout her entire body, making her relax.
He has a hard-on, the voice said. You know that, don't you?
Shut up, bitch, Lori thought back. I don't want to hear it.
The voice was not to be shut up, however.
Right now he's adjusting himself inside his pants. He's so big he can't keep it contained anymore. He's looking at your bottom and wondering how to get your panties off. He might even be rubbing himself as he thinks about it.
Will you please shut up, she thought savagely. There was some truth to this, she knew: she could feel it in the way Tommy rearranged himself on the bed. Her sixth sense also tracked the movement of his eyes up and down her back, knew when they settled on her panty-clad bottom, when they strayed up to the visible bulge of her breasts. Tommy didn't just have a hard-on: he had a hard-on for her.
Lori turned her head in the opposite direction and stared at the wall.
Chicken.
Shut up!
Returning to his massage, Tommy worked the muscles in her neck and shoulders. Much as she disliked admitting it, his hands on her back worked a lot better than through a terrycloth robe. In fact, his hands felt really, really good, like a professional masseuse. Why was she just finding out about this?
"That feels good," she muttered, directing him to a particularly defiant muscle in the right side of her neck.
"Better?" he asked.
"Tremendously," she sighed happily. "Over to the left. More left. More. Right there. Oh, yeahhhhhh."
Squirming beneath his hands, she felt almost like giggling. She didn't dare, knowing it would make her sound like a 10-year-old. She was embarrassed enough as it was.
The relaxation spreading though her, along with that delicious warmth, made her want to go to sleep. Wouldn't that be something, she thought, falling asleep on him?
"You want some oil?" Tommy asked.
"What?" she replied sleepily.
"The Johnson's Baby Oil," he said.
I knew it, she thought, secretly grinning. Rub it on myself afterward, bullshit. You're trying to turn me on, plain and simple.
And it's working too, her secret voice said.
Turning her head to look, she watched Tommy grab the oil, pop back the lid with his thumb and move the bottle over her back. Peripherally, and by feel, she tracked the figure-eight pattern the stream of oil made on her skin. Even untouched, it felt oily. Warm also, as though it had been heated. She remembered that Johnson's Baby Oil always felt this way going on: it was like a commandment or something
"I need to ask you something," he said.
Okay, here it comes, she thought.
"What?"
"This would work a lot better if I sat on your butt."
"Why?" she asked, though of course she knew why.
"Because it's really killing my shoulders to do it from this angle." He rotated his arms, which admittedly he'd done a few times in the past several minutes. One of his shoulder joints popped alarmingly, making her feel the question wasn't entirely a ploy.
"OK. But be careful. It's my back that hurts, remember?"
"I'll be careful," he promised hurriedly. Moving before she could change her mind, Tommy swung a leg over her hips and sat down just behind her butt. He scooted forward and in doing so, presented Lori with the unmistakable presence of his erection. She ground her teeth, jerked forward, pushed him back and twisted onto her side. All at once, she realized that she'd just bared her breasts to him. She didn't move.
"That was not funny," she said hoarsely.
"I didn't mean it to be," he replied, just as hoarsely. "It was an accident."
"Having it is no accident," she said accusingly. "I'm your sister. What are you thinking?"
"Sister or not," he said defensively, "you're still naked."
And exactly whose doing was that, she thought?
She was about to put this into words when her voice choked off. Staring at her was a one-eyed monster. It was swollen and purple, surrounded by a nest of thickly coiling hair. It thumped up and down with Paul's heartbeat. Even as she watched, a pearl-like droplet of liquid formed at the tip and grew.
Pointing at it, she choked: "Tommy!"
Tommy looked down and immediately covered himself with both hands. "Sorry," he grunted. "I didn't mean to shock you. I'll put it away. Just hold on a second."
In his eyes, Lori could see the whole scenario disintegrating. If she didn't act quickly, he'd slide off her and call the whole thing off, return to his room with mumbled apologies. The chance would be lost, maybe forever. "Wait a minute," she said. "I want to look at it."
See, that irritating inner voice announced smugly. I knew you wanted him.
Lori couldn't ague.
Already off her hips, Tommy hesitated and looked down at her uncertainly. Her eyes followed the course of his attention from her bare breasts, to the slope of her belly to her waist, and along her lower abdomen to where it made contact with the mattress and disappeared. What Lori found difficult to look away from was the head and first several inches of erection stealing out the flap of his shorts.
"I've never seen one," she said nervously. "Not a real one, anyway. Not up close." Committed now, she completed the turn onto her back and propped herself on her elbows. Pop-eyed, Tommy stared at her breasts. It was impossible to hide a smile and she didn't try.
"You're embarrassing me," she said. "You've seen breasts before. Stop staring."
"I'm not staring," he protested, his tongue darting out and licking his lower lip. "I just--"
"Just what?" she asked.
"Nothing."
Silent for a moment, enjoying his silence, Lori finally said: "Can I touch it?"
He gulped, loudly. "You wanna touch it?"
She nodded her head.
"Go ahead," he said, doubtfully.
What amazed her was how big it was. If what she saw was only the head and the first inch or two, then how long was the thing? From the tenting of his shorts, she guessed another five or six inches at least, making him a minimum of 8" long. The thought mortified her. She was how deep herself? Four inches, maybe? Five? Barely half his length.
Oh, my God, she thought numbly. What have I gotten myself into?
Extending her right hand, and with trembling fingers, she touched the top ridge along the top (what she for some reason thought of as the crest), and let her fingertips glide gently onto the shaft itself. It was surprisingly warm and thumping beneath her fingertips. The texture itself, the feel of the blue veins beneath the skin, freaked her out a bit. It felt dangerous. It felt cocked.
"Are you... ?" she started, and then stopped in embarrassment.
"Am I what?" he asked, breathing irregularly.
"Ready to come?" she mumbled.
Slowly, he nodded. "So close, you don't want to touch it. Believe me, Elle."
Quickly, she withdrew her fingertips. "You're not gonna do it on me are you?" The concept, even the question, made her insides expand and shrink simultaneously. Traitorously, her nipples hardened into painful little fingertips, which, of course, Tommy noticed.
"Stop it," she said, self-consciously covering up. "You do it. I'll watch."
Tommy shook his head. "Me doing it is no fun."
"Well, you're not doing it on me," she told him. "At least, not yet."
The admission--the invitation--surprised her as much as it did Tommy.
They agreed--Lori reluctantly--that Tommy would replace her on the bed, while she'd kneel beside him in his original position. No, she had said emphatically to any suggestion that she sit on his thighs. One slide forward, one moment of indiscretion, and she'd be sitting on him, losing her virginity. For the first time, the idea of protection occurred to her. More precisely, her lack thereof, as she'd never so much as touched a condom before. Did Tommy have one, she wondered. And what would it feel like inside her?
Painful, came the unbidden answer. Deliciously, terribly, wonderfully, painful.
Thanks a lot, she grumbled back.
With Tommy in position on his back, arms awkwardly at his sides, Lori kneeling beside him, she found herself at a loss.
Do I just grab him and start stroking, she wondered. Then, in horror, she thought: What if he wants me to put it in my mouth?
Just as with protection, she hadn't considered the idea.
You are going into this so prepared, her secret voice taunted.
Oh shut up, she shot back.
In a voice which practically squeaked, she said: "What do I do, Tommy?"
Tommy jerked as though suddenly tickled. "Oh! Sorry," he said, pointing at himself, as Lori had done earlier. "You just wrap your hand around it and go up and down real gently. Gently, but firmly," he added. "Like this."
Taking her right hand, he wrapped it loosely around his shaft and experimentally ran it up and down a couple times.
"It's better if you go all the way up over the head," he explained patiently. "It's the most sensitive part, and I'll enjoy it the most." He smiled crookedly, realizing how self-serving he sounded. "You'll enjoy it too," he added.
"Like this?" Inexpertly, hesitantly, she drew her hand up the thick shaft, pulling the skin along with it up and over the head. Her small hand barely covered a third of its length, but the surprisingly loose skin seemed to have no problem moving along with her. She confirmed this when her hand traveled the length of his shaft back downward to the base. It was easy, she realized, and fun. She began to stroke him with repeatedly faster and longer strokes.
Alarmed, big-eyed, he said, "Whoa! Whoa!" and grabbed her hand, stopping it dead. "Don't do that," he said breathlessly. "I'm almost there now. I'd like to get a little enjoyment out of this, you know."
Lori giggled. Seeing her "big" brother completely at her mercy, basically surrendering his orgasm to her, was a giddy feeling. Suddenly, she wanted his cock-head in her mouth. If nothing else, simply for the shock-value it would cause. Instead, she continued to slowly stroke him up and down.
"You should take off your shorts," she said suddenly.
Jerking again, he said, "What?"
"If I do this until you come," she said, blushing ferociously at the embarrassing words, "You want it all over you?"
Surprised, he looked down at himself. "I guess I don't. You want to join me," he added, grinning up at her impishly.
"Tommy!" She felt her blush strengthen by a force of ten. Her nipples became painfully hard, and not a tingle this time, but a maddeningly irritating itch started up between her legs. "I'm not taking off my panties!"
"Why not? You want me out of mine."
"That's different," she waffled, hunching her shoulders protectively. The truth was, she not only wanted out of them, she wanted them removed by Tommy's own hands. "How about some baby oil?" she offered quickly.
Reaching over, she grabbed the bottle of Johnson's Baby Oil and deposited a large pool in the middle of her left palm. Bottle between her thighs, she oiled not Tommy's huge erection, but her own chest and stomach. In reaction, Tommy's eyes widened to the size of silver dollars.
"More!" he said breathlessly.
Laughing, Lori leaned back and squeezed oil out across both breasts, up her breastbone and then down to her stomach. She then massaged the oil all over herself. The effect on Tommy was instantaneous.
"Here!" he gasped, wriggling out of his shorts. "Do me."
Still laughing, Lori leaned forward and slid her hand down the shaft, lubricating it with the oil. When she began to stroke again, the feeling of supple slipperiness formed a lump in her chest that momentarily made it impossible to breathe. One-handed, she forced her panties off her hips, maneuvered them down her thighs, and then, one leg at a time, removed them entirely and dropped them on Tommy's bare chest. This act, coupled with the sight of her bare labia, proved too much for him. Accompanied by a strangled cry, he fired a long, silky-white streamer of liquid into the air. It splattered down on the crotch of her red and white panties and she began to giggle uncontrollably. She watched pop-eyed as gout upon gout of white semen shot in the air, most landing on his belly and atop her discarded panties. Enough came straight down to coat the top of her hand. It was warm and slick feeling, adding its own lubricating action to that of the baby oil. And then it was over.
"Wow!" she said in disbelief. "That was a lot!"
In wonder, her eyes roamed the extent of the ejaculate up and down his torso. This was much more sperm than she ever could have imagined coming out of a man's penis.
Out of his testicles, the distracted voice corrected. But you're right. It's a lot.
Releasing him, she rubbed the liquid on her hand between her forefinger and thumb. She almost, but not quite, put it to her tongue and tasted.
"I can't believe how much you did," she marveled, still rubbing the semen between her fingertips.
"It was a lot," he choked out. "More than I usually do."
"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" she asked.
Tommy only laughed.
A few minutes later, after helping clean Tommy's chest and safely disposing of her soiled panties in the closet hamper, Lori asked: "How often do you do that to yourself?"
She sat with her legs tucked beneath her in a classic, off-hip pose that all but hid her labia from Tommy's prying eyes. Tommy sat directly opposite her, legs spread in a lotus position, absolutely unconcerned with his own nudity. Or proud of it, she thought.
"What? Soak your panties with my cum?" he joked.
"Stop it," she said, pushing against his shoulder in embarrassment. "You know what I mean."
He shrugged. "At least once a day. Usually before I go to bed."
"That often, huh?" She was surprised. Every day seemed like an awful lot to be masturbating. Bashfully, not looking at him, she asked: "Do you ever think about me?"
It was Tommy's turn for surprise. "Would it bother you?" he asked.
She shrugged, one-shouldered, in continued embarrassment. "Depends on what you were thinking about."
Avoiding the question, he said: "What about you? You ever do it?"
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