Who The Hell Is Beating Off Bob? free porn video

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Author's Note: One day I received an email notifying me that I had a fan club of sorts, made up of nine or so women who all work in the same company, and who gather at breaks to read aloud, to each other, my stories. They call themselves, it is said, "The Dirty Girls".

Even if it's not true, it's a good tale, and what author could pass up a chance to write a story like that? It would give me a chance to write about myself in the process, which is hard because I'm so humble, and I could pass along some of the criticism I've received from dissatisfied readers.

And so, I wrote this story, and it is dedicated to ... The Dirty Girls ... whoever and wherever you are.

Bob

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Who The Hell Is Beating Off Bob?

by Lubrican (AKA Beating Off Bob)

Chapter One

They were at it again.

I was walking down the hall one night and I heard giggling. I work at the Falkenville Community Hospital, on the night shift, in the receiving department.

Sounds special, doesn't it?

But in all actuality, we get maybe three or four deliveries a night, and most of those are partial loads on common carriers, a pallet here, three or four pallets there, sometimes just a few boxes. Then, of course, we have to unpack everything and put it all away on the shelves.

Many nights it takes maybe three or four hours. The rest of the time we nap, or read, or watch TV.

Or surf the net.

My name's Dirk, and I work with three women. It doesn't take all of us to do the job, but the hospital got a grant to hire some people to improve efficiency. Before us there was one old guy who took in the stuff and the nurses had to come down and unpack and distribute it.

So when I heard giggling, I knew they were at it again. Julie is the oldest. She's probably in her late thirties, divorced, no kids, and bitter about it. She had the dream marriage, with the nightmare husband who couldn't keep it in his pants.

Jill is the intern, a college kid with glasses and short dark hair that barely goes down past her ears. She always looks so intense, like the world could come to an end any minute and she's trying to be ready for it. She works hard at being all grown up, which is a shame cause she's really just a kid who's throwing away her youth.

Then there's Linda. She's about my age, maybe 26 or 27. She's got a little girl and she NEVER talks about the father. All she's ever said is "He's not in our lives."

Technically I'm the supervisor. But there isn't really anything to supervise. I sign documents and take the heat if we accept the wrong stuff, or the right stuff, but in the wrong quantities - that drives accounts payable crazy. And, by mid shift we're pretty much done, most nights.

That's when they usually gather around the computer and the giggling starts. It was Linda who got them all started. One night I heard her call Julie over to the computer. "Jules, come here. You aren't going to BELIEVE this!" Julie went over and there was some low voiced exchange and then quiet as Julie read something. About a minute into it she pushed Linda out of the chair and sat down, staring intently at the screen like she was reading about how they just found the fountain of youth, and were telling people where it was.

Then she leaned forward and actually moaned! Linda burst out giggling and said "See what I mean? Is that HOT, or is that HOT!"

I stood up from where I was sitting reading an old paperback copy of Heinlein's 'Stranger In A Strange Land' and said "What's up?"

Linda turned around and held up one hand in the classic "STOP" signal. "Sit back down big guy" she said. "This is female stuff. Not for you."

I lost interest, but as I sat down I saw that Julie hadn't even looked away from the screen even once during the whole thing. About five minutes later she rolled the chair back, stood up and said "I gotta go to the bathroom."

For some reason that made Linda cackle with laughter and she called out "I used the left stall!"

I wouldn't have thought anything about it, except that it happened again the next night. After we got all done Linda sat down at the computer and started clicking the mouse. Pretty soon she called out "Julie, he posted another one!" Julie almost RAN over to the computer and they stared at the screen together this time. I could see the screen and it was all just text on the screen. Then they got in an argument about how fast to scroll the screen. Both of them were gasping and making little sounds in their throats.

Jill wandered over and started reading over their shoulders. They were both so involved in their reading that they didn't even notice her.

Until she said "Oh my GOSH! What in the WORLD are you guys reading?"

Julie looked up and said "Sweetie, you're a little young for this kind of stuff."

Of course that was like throwing down the gauntlet to Jill, and the next thing I knew there were THREE chairs in front of the screen. Jill demanded they start over, which they did. Then it got quiet and they were all breathing heavily, staring and reading the slowly scrolling words.

I tried to read, but it was too quiet. Finally they were done. Jill said "Wow, I've never seen anything like that."

Linda grinned. "His stuff is so hot I just have to ... " she glanced at me to see if I was listening. I pretended to be deep in my book. She continued in a whisper "I have to go rub off after I read it."

Hysterical giggling and squealing, like a bunch of girls at a slumber party, broke out. Julie gasped "ME TOO! LAST NIGHT ... ME TOO!"

Jill was confused. "You read that last night too?"

Linda laughed and said "Hell no, girl, he's got maybe fifty stories posted."

Then there was this scramble to get the three chairs back in front of the screen and Linda went to work. A new page came up and there was a muffled conference as Linda's long-nailed finger slid down the screen, apparently down a list or something. They agreed on something and the screen changed again.

This time it took them fifteen minutes to read whatever it was they were reading. I mean it was as quiet as a tomb in there, except for these little noises they made in their throats. Then, when they were done, they all three went their separate ways and I didn't see hide nor hair of them for another half hour.

They were all smiles and giggles when they got back together though.

The next night the same thing happened. And the night after that.

Finally I couldn't take it any more. I just HAD to find out what was going on.

The next night I let them get started reading and stood up quietly. I drifted over behind them. At the top of the page were the words: LUCKY SISTER by BEATING OFF BOB.

It was some sort of story or something.

"Who the hell is Beating Off Bob?" I blurted out.

All three women looked up at me. Julie said, quite calmly, "I told you Dirk, this is woman stuff. You need to go over there and read, or sit quietly or something. When we're done we'll let you know.

She always thought that because she was older than me I should have to do whatever she said. Normally it didn't bother me. That night I got hot under the collar.

"What the hell kind of name is that anyway?" I growled. "What's going on?"

Linda stood up and turned around to face me. "Dirk, honey, (she flirted with me a lot) we're kind of busy right now. Please, just go sit down and be a good boy. We'll explain it to you later. OK?"

I suddenly realized she smelled really good. So I went and sat.

I felt like I was a pussy or something.

They read steadily for fifteen minutes, making those sounds again. Linda sat back in her chair. "I have a brother, and he's cute and all, but I could NEVER do that with him."

Julie's head turned and she said "Of COURSE not you silly girl. You're not SUPPOSED to think about HIM. You're supposed to think about somebody else ... somebody you WISH was your brother, and how you'd do it with HIM if he WAS your brother."

Jill was breathing hard. "I don't understand. This stuff is perverted, but it makes me feel so hot! Why would I want to think about actually DOING any of this?"

Julie sighed, the sound of a woman who is making it obvious she's being very patient. "Look, I read his profile, and I read between the lines. He's not saying you should go out and DO this stuff. OK, think about it like this." She turned to Linda. "Linda, you have Cynthia. She's your daughter and you love her, right?"

Linda nodded.

"OK, now Cynthia has a father right?"

Linda went frosty. "I don't want to talk about him."

Julie put her hands up. "We're not going to talk about him. But you had something once upon a time that was so good that you had Cynthia because of it. Is that right? Or was she an accident?"

Linda bristled "NO! She wasn't an accident. I wanted her. I love her!"

Julie had her hands up again. "Yes, we know that. And it's that feeling that I wanted to identify, not the pain. See, in reality there is all this pain. I was madly in love with Jack and he cheated on me and ruined it all, but I remember the feeling of being in love. So the reality was shitty, but when I read this guy's stories, everything always works out and everybody's always happy and it just beats the SHIT out of real life."

Jill was shaking her head. "Yes, but you can't just dream and fantasize all day long. You can't live a fantasy."

Julie nodded. "Yes, that's right. We have to deal with our lives and whatever goes on in them, but ... every once in a while ... this man gives us something we can dream about long enough to pretend it's about us, with some guy we'd like to be with, but probably never will, and have some excitement that turns out ... nice."

I had been listening to all this and I couldn't take it any more. "Come ON Julie. You can't be serious. This guy writes about ... doing your sister or something and you want to have a fantasy about THAT?"

Julie stood up and walked over to me. "Dirk, have you ever whacked off while looking at a Playboy?"

Man she knew how to put me on the defensive. "I don't have to answer that question." I said defensively.

"Cut the shit Dirk, you wanted into this conversation. Now, do your part. Have you ever masturbated to Playboy? Yes or No Dirk."

I darted a look at the other two women, thoughts of a sexual harassment complaint looming over this situation. But I wanted to know where she was going with it. And they looked ... interested, not mad. "OK, sure, every guy does. So what?"

"What are the chances, Dirk, that you'll EVER get together with one of the women in that magazine?"

I laughed. "None! I know that. That's not the point. It's just fun thinking about it."

Julie turned around and bowed to her two coworkers. "I rest my case." she said.

I realized I had just bolstered her argument. I wasn't happy about it. I decided to take another path at knocking this Bob guy down. "OK, but what kind of pervert uses a name like 'Beating Off Bob'? I mean that's just disgusting. Who wants that image in their mind?"

Julie came to his defense. "But don't you see? That's the whole point. He doesn't WANT the reader to try to actually do any of this stuff. So he reminds you with every story, that he writes fantasies to masturbate to, but not take seriously. Who could take a guy who calls himself 'Beating Off Bob' seriously? It's PERFECT!"

I wasn't doing all that well, so I changed tacks again. "I think I need to read one of these stories."

The girls all put their head together and eventually nodded. Julie went to the computer, pushed some buttons and pulled up a story. It was called "Uncle's Fashion Sense".

I started reading. It was a story about a girl about to get married who got a bunch of lingerie at a shower and tried it on for her uncle. Then he ... well he did a bunch of things to her. I noticed two things. His description of the girl made me think of Tiffany Watkins, who worked up in the ER and who I had had a letch for for months. She wouldn't give me the time of day, but I saw her in that story. The other thing I noticed was that by the time I had ... er I mean Uncle Bob had put his hands all over Tiffany ... er I mean Beth ... I had a hardon. And it was the kind of hardon that needed attention.

I was in trouble and I knew it. Then something caught my eye. "Hah!" I crowed triumphantly. "I knew the guy was a hack."

"What?" asked Julie, worried now.

"This guy doesn't know ANYTHING!" I said as I adjusted my cock to where it wouldn't be so noticeable and stood up. "He says the crotchless panties she's wearing came from Victoria's Secret. ANYBODY knows that Victoria’s Secret doesn't sell crotchless panties!. That comes from Fredericks of Hollywood, and NOT Victoria's Secret. The guy's a fraud."

Linda said "Dirk, what's that in your pants? Is that a pistol in your pocket, or did maybe Beating Off Bob give you a stiffy?"

"That's nothing!" I barked. "Maybe I was a little titillated ... at first ... but he ruined it with that obvious mistake. I couldn't POSSIBLY enjoy a story that had such a glaring error in it."

Julie had been peering at the front of my pants. She grinned. "Of course not Dirk, after all, that's a pivotal part of the story. It's not important what she's wearing. It's only important that he correctly names the store where she got it. I'll make sure to write to him and tell him he lost a reader because of that very VERY serious mistake."

"You can actually WRITE to this guy?" I asked.

"Sure, I've sent him a couple of notes telling him he made me all wet and was very naughty."

I goggled at this woman I thought I knew, this bitter divorced woman who didn't seem to have any fun, and who was always pissed off about something.

"But he's a PERVERT!" I yelled. "If you write to him he'll write back and try to get you to meet him and then he'll probably try to rape you or something or you'll be murdered in your sleep!"

She actually LAUGHED at me. ME!

"Dirk, honey, I'd never meet with him. He's happily married and I have no interest in HIM. I just like his FANTASIES!"

"He's MARRIED?" I croaked.

"Yes, and he's old enough to be my ... uncle." There was a brief pause as she let that sink in and then three women were laughing their asses off at me.

Linda was still looking interestedly at my pants, which were still full of hard dick because, like I said, this was the kind of boner that had to be dealt with. He really did write a pretty hot story.

"Dirk?" Linda said in a sweet voice that I knew boded no good for Dirk Hoffman. "Who did you think of when he described Beth?"

Now I was under a lot of pressure here, so it's understandable that I didn't think too hard before I answered the question. It was, after all, a pretty innocent question, right?

"Tiffany, up in the Emergency Room." I said. Then, as men quite often do, I realized I'd just made a terrible mistake. "But only for a second. Then I forgot all about it. I mean I saw that mistake about the underwear and it was all over."

I'd like to say it was a nice try, but ... I still had a boner, you know?

Linda was cool as a cucumber. "Well, why don't you toddle off to the bathroom and ... think about Tiff ... I mean Beth a little while. Maybe that would help your ... situation."

"I have work to do" I said, with as much dignity as I could.

Which wasn't much.

Half an hour later, when I thought they might have forgotten about it, I went to the bathroom. I must have shot a quart, thinking about Tiffany trying stuff on for me, her loving Uncle. After that I went to the computer to track a shipment. I just sort of accidentally looked at the browser history and saw the address they had been reading the stories on.

storiesonline.net.

Even I could remember that.

I had my two days off. I own a computer. I read ten or twelve of his stories. I had to admit it. Other than the occasional spelling error, and some physical acts that were flat impossible if I remembered my biology and sex ed classes correctly, the plots he came up with, and the descriptions of the girls almost always made me think of somebody I knew and lusted after, or something from my youth that was close to what the story was about. I mean none of that stuff ever happened to me, but there were things I remembered that, if you plugged in some of his stuff here, and maybe a little bit there, you could pretend it had happened to you.

And, I am thoroughly ashamed to say, I about wore my poor peter out. And you know what? I have a sister, and three nieces, and several cousins, and I never once thought about THEM while I was abusing myself. I always seemed to be thinking about a girl or woman who, if she WAS my sister, or niece or cousin, I'd gladly commit incest with.

You know what pissed me off the most? That what Julie had said started making sense.

Well, I went back to work and I swear they all knew what I'd been doing on my days off.

Oh, they didn't say anything outright. It was just looks. And giggles. And lines from his stories that they couldn't know I'd read and remembered, but they said them, trying to get a rise out of me. And the trouble was ... they always did.

And every night, when the work was done, they gathered around that screen and wiggled and moaned and sighed.

It got so I got a hardon and wasn't even reading the damn stories!

Then, one night, they invited me to sit in with them.

It was a longer story, called "Family Boot Camp".

Have you ever sat with three horny women who smell good, and are reading about pricks spurting in wet pussies, and who make these little sounds in their throats that are like what you always wished a woman would sound like while you were making love to her?

Guys I'm telling you it's a rough situation. The only guy I feel sorrier for is the guy who takes all the pictures of all those Playboy Bunnies, but who isn't allowed to EVER touch one, or say anything "inappropriate" or even let them know he sees their beauty, for fear they'll get offended and take off and Hugh won't get his dick wet because of it.

Night after night I sat there, prick poking a tent in my pants, smelling excited pussy all around me. And Fucking Beating Off Fucking Bob kept writing new fucking stories.

And I mean they were LITERALLY fucking stories.

In the mornings I usually just went home and went to bed. Then, whenever I woke up I ate something and went about whatever chores I had to do. Grocery shopping, laundry, you know the drill.

One morning I was down to my skivvies, getting ready to drop them - I sleep in the raw - and the doorbell rang. I have this sign by the bell that says "Day Sleeper. Do not ring", so naturally I figure it's some salesman. It pissed me off when they ignored my sign, so I went to the door, dressed in my boxers, and opened it. I hoped it was a sales WOMAN, cause I wanted to shock the shit out of her.

It was Julie.

She looked at me, eyebrows raised, and pushed past me, as if I'd just invited her in.

"Aren't you going to close the door?" she asked, putting down her purse on the coffee table.

So I closed the door. I wasn't really prepared for this. A lot of scenarios had gone through my mind in the past when I'd heard that bell ring. Not one of them had me opening the door to find Julie standing there. Especially not with me in my shorts.

"Uh ... I'll just go put something on." I mumbled.

"Just sit down. I need to talk to you. Never mind the pants. I've seen men in their shorts before." she ordered. Why did she always think she could just run roughshod over me?

But I sat down. It was easier that way, I guess. I tried to give her an expectant look.

She looked at me and bit her lip. She looked ... nervous. "Look, Dirk ..." she started.

I tried to look suave, relaxed, at ease. Sitting there in my underwear.

"Dirk, do you like me?" she asked suddenly.

Now how in the nine hells does a guy answer a question like that? I thought I was a pretty cool kind of guy, so I went for the frivolous nice answer.

"Well, you're awfully bossy, and you act like you're my mother half the time. You're down on men, mostly, which I'm one of. But all things considered, if I was stuck on a desert island, I doubt I'd vote you off of it."

While I was feeling proud of myself I saw the look come on her face and I knew I'd made a serious mistake. I finally understood her question hadn't been frivolous at all. I saw her muscles tense, and I knew she was about to get up and walk out.

"Yes!" I blurted. "I like you."

Her eyebrows went up again, and then, after a few more seconds, she relaxed.

"Do you think I'm ... pretty?" She looked down.

Now this was an interesting question, all of a sudden. I realized that she was here on serious business, and that I needed to take her seriously. I knew she was on the cusp of hating men forever, and I thought that would be a shame, because she WAS a nice woman, with a great personality, her take-charge attitude notwithstanding. And I had the opportunity to respond to her as a friend, and maybe make her less likely to hate ALL men.

"Look Jules" I started, and she flinched. It was clear she was expecting the worst. Man, that husband of hers should be found and shot. "I'm going to answer that question, but I'm going to answer it honestly, OK? I mean I don't want you to get pissed off, or file a sexual harassment complaint or any of that stuff. I'm just going to tell it the way I see it, OK?"

She winced when she said it, but she said "OK."

"OK, first off, 'pretty' includes several things. One is your appearance. You're in good shape, with a little meat on your bones, but you don't look anywhere near your age. You don't wear much makeup, but you have a good face. You'd look good in a pony tail, but you think you're too old to wear it that way. The clothes you wear cover up your body, but it looks good ... to me. You should be dating. There are lots of men out there who would love to get you in the sac.... I mean they'd love to get to know you." I corrected myself.

She smiled. It was a little smile, but I rarely saw her smile at all.

"Now 'pretty' also has a personality component. You can have a brick shithouse kind of girl, but nobody can stand to be around her because everything is about her, if you know what I mean. But YOUR personality isn't like that. You're kind of a mother hen type, who likes to help people, and is always willing to give of herself, but doesn't really ask all the much in return. Except you boss people around, and I really think that's just a face you put on to keep people at a distance. But I can see through that. You're just a nice woman Jules. And that's attractive.

Now her smile was real, but her eyes were all glisteny, like she was getting ready to cry. She stood up. "Someone once told me that, when a man looks at a woman - any woman - there's a part of his brain that immediately sizes her up as either being a potential mate, or NOT a potential mate. Then, depending on which of those things it is, he makes decisions about what to do about it. Is that true Dirk? Do men really do that?"

She was talking basic sociology 101. Women did the same thing, but in the woman's case she's checking out his genetics. Shoulders, legs, muscles, height and all that. Then that part of her brain decides whether or not she'd accept his sperm. Of course civilization has put all kinds of layers of decision making on top of all of that. Cavemen could see a woman, want her, and take her, but it isn't that way these days. But I knew what she was talking about. I just didn't know WHY she was talking about it.

"Sure" I said. "I do that all the time."

I felt all the guys out there wincing as they read that last line. There's an unwritten rule about admitting that to a woman.

"So, what did you decide when you looked at me?" she asked.

Which is precisely WHY there is an unwritten rule about admitting that to a woman.

So how does a guy answer that one?

"I'm sure I decided that you'd make beautiful babies." I said.

Then I realized what I'd said. Shit! I needed to turn things around.

"So, what's this all about Jules?" I figured if I started asking the questions, maybe I could get out of the trouble I was probably in.

She stood up. There was a look in her eyes I'd never seen before. It was a sort of ... I don't know ... soft look? She was fiddling with the top button of her blouse.

"You're a good man Dirk" she said, stepping even closer to me. "I've been thinking about that story that Bob wrote. The one about the kid that was sent to his Aunt and Uncle for punishment and his Aunt ... took care of his needs? And her own needs too?"

I remembered and nodded, not sure where this was going.

"And I have a nephew, but he's like a little prick, like those girls you were talking about who don't care about anybody except themselves."

She was so close now she was almost touching me.

"And then it occurred to me that you're young enough to be my nephew."

Now what the hell did THAT have to do with the price of tea in China?

"And if YOU were my nephew, I think I'd like to spend time with you." She stepped even closer. I felt the tips of her breasts touch my chest.

And I began to get an idea of what was actually going on here. And I did not find the idea repugnant, other than it's never a good idea to have office romances.

But I hadn't had a girlfriend for over eight months, and Julie WAS a good looking woman.

"I don't have an aunt." I said, trying to sound sad. "But if I did, I'd wish she was like you." I took it a step further to see how serious she was. "Except that a nephew shouldn't think about his aunt like I'd think about you."

Her eyes sparkled and she took a deep breath. She looked around. "Could you please get your poor old aunt something to drink? I'm just parched."

OK, that threw me. But I played along and went to the kitchen and got her a glass of water. She didn't so much try to drink it as pour it on her face. It all ran down on her blouse.

"OH!" she yipped, brushing at the stains. "How clumsy of me. I'll just throw this in the dryer." She started unbuttoning that blouse, and all I could see was skin. She wasn't wearing a bra. Julie ALWAYS wore a bra.

So now I knew beyond doubt that she'd planned to come over here and was hoping that something like this would happen.

I'd like to say that I put my hands on her breasts, offering to keep them warm, or something witty like that.

What I did was go back to the kitchen, get more water, and then I came back out and threw it on her pants.

I'll never forget the joy in her laughter.

Then it was clothing flying everywhere, and her tugging me to the wrong door, which went to a closet, and me dragging her to my bedroom. She started up about how she couldn't let her nephew do this to her, because it just wasn't right, and she plopped down on the bed and held her arms out to me. I climbed on and she insisted that I stop, while her hand went to my rock hard prick and pulled it to her opening. And then it was push, pull, slap, slap, kiss, kiss and the sweet agony of release, and I never even thought to ask her if it was OK to shoot off in her. I think we were both too giddy to think about protection. We were talking Aunt and Nephew, but we were acting like seventeen year olds.

Later I lay there on my side, just looking at her. She was GORGEOUS under those frumpy clothes she always wore. I told her so too, and she beamed.

"You already had your way with me. You don't have to compliment me any more." she said, her eyes wary.

"I have to set up having my way with you again, don't I?" I cupped one of her beautiful heavy breasts.

"We'll see." she said. Then, quite seriously, she said "I don't want this to affect what happens at work. I like my job, and I like my supervisor. I don't want my supervisor to change."

I responded quite seriously too. "I only have one aunt, and she never ever shows up at work."

And at work we DID manage to act more or less normal, though there were some glances and winks. She told me she didn't want to have 'too much of a good thing' so we only got together every couple of weeks or so.

But I digress. That's actually in the future.

CHAPTER TWO

The next night, just like always, they got done with work and gathered around the computer. And, as usual they tittered and moaned.

"Dirk!" yelled Linda. "Don't you want to read with us tonight Dirk?" I had a feeling that Julie had been less than discretionary with her two co-workers, concerning our little tryst.

Boy, was I wrong. But then, I wouldn't know that until later.

Anyway, I almost put a wrench in the spokes without even knowing it when I said "Naw, I don't think so." See, I knew that if I read with them, surrounded by sweet smelling females, I'd get a monster hardon. I mean if it was a good story, and, for the most part they usually were. And I did NOT want to have the front of my pants poking out in front of Linda and Jill. If Julie saw it ... no big deal. And, if it would have been just Julie and me there, I'd have read a story and then fucked her brains out.

But it wasn't just us two.

"Come on Dirk." whined Linda. "It's more fun when you're sitting here."

Now, if I'd have stopped to think about that, I might have decided that was a decidedly odd thing to say. I mean, in the beginning they didn't want me there at all. Hell, they didn't even want me to know what they were DOING!. And now, all of a sudden, it's more fun if I'm there?

But I didn't think about that. I was busy thinking about how I was going to get out of embarrassing myself. I couldn't say I found his stories boring. They knew better than that. And I could probably find something wrong with any of the stories ... if you tried hard enough it was easy to do that.

Then Julie torpedoed me. "Yeah, come on Dirk. I think you'll like this one."

Now what. If she liked it she might want to ... think about it ... later ... with me ... if you get my drift. I felt my boner starting already. Maybe if I sat down it wouldn't be so noticeable.

Linda and Julie scooted apart so I could sit between them. This story was called "Peeking At Sister's Tattoo" and it was just dirty. I mean it was dirty in the old timey sense of being a nasty, dirty, spicy story. And it was different than his other stories. It was told different in a jerky kind of style.

But it was hot. I mean if you were a dirty, nasty, perverted sister-lover kind of guy, it would have you digging through the clothes hamper, sniffing your sister's panties right NOW!

Now I'm NOT a dirty, nasty, perverted sister-lover kind of guy. I have a sister, and she's nice and I love her and everything, but I just can't get comfortable with a picture of her and me making the two-backed beast in my mind. In fact, I can't even MAKE that picture in my mind.

I heard a gasp from Linda, beside me, and I glanced at her. Now if SHE was my sister, I'd be a dirty, nasty, sister-lover kind of guy.

The story got to a place where the kid was sperming his sister's friend, and then went after his sister too, and Linda's hand went between her legs. She was wearing jeans and I felt sorry for her. Jeans are so stiff. You can't feel much through them. I looked over at Julie and her mouth was hanging open. She was breathing fast too.

Then I glanced at Jill. I expected her to look horrified. I mean she's only 19 or 20, and all this just HAD to be new and perverted to her. She was leaning forward, that intense look on her face. Then in a low and sultry voice she said very very softly ... "Oh fuck!". She suddenly looked right at me and her mouth went into an "O" and she blushed.

"I have to go to the bathroom" she said. Then she jumped up and RAN towards the one reserved for the ladies.

Linda jumped up and hissed "Me too." and took off after Jill.

That left Julie and me there. Julie turned to me and said "You don't suppose we'd have time to ..." She had this hopeful look in her eye.

"Julie!" I said, shocked. I mean she was the one who said things had to be cool at work, right?

Then SHE blushed. "Yeah, I know. But it would be nice right now." She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. "Maybe I'd better go make sure the girls are OK." and she got up and went to the bathroom too.

I looked back at the story. The little bastard had fucked the THIRD girl too! AND she suddenly wanted to be knocked up by him, just like all the others. What a crock! I went to the bottom of the story, where you can write to the author. I didn't want to use my work email address, but I had one at Hotmail so I could use it when doing business with on-line companies, so I put that one in the "from" spot.

Then I let the bastard have it. I told him that I might have bought off on ONE girl getting nailed, but that there was no way the others would do it too, especially his sister. I told him that he needed to get real, and besides, after seeing the tattoo through the peephole, that's the LAST time it was even mentioned in the story, even though the name of the story WAS about the tattoo. Then I sent it to him. Imagine, thinking this crap was sexy and foisting it on the public.

Feeling good I looked around. It was kind of boring without all the girls being there. Just for shits and giggles, I sifted through his stories and picked one called "Love On The Range". It was about a cowboy and I liked cowboys and western stuff. It started out pretty good and after maybe ten minutes I hoped the girls were having fun, because I was having fun. I'd substituted Julie for the mother in the story, and Linda for the blond girl. I figured Jill would take on the persona of the one who got snake bit. I didn't know any girls as young as the one who "caught" him in the pond, but his description of her was good enough I could see her in my mind. I couldn't make it all the way through the story before I had to go visit the little boy's room. Man, for a guy I hated so much, he did have a way with words.

On my next day off I sat around the house again in my boxers, hoping that Julie would show up. I had been reading a lot of B.O.B.'s stories and even though they weren't much good, I was pretty horny for some reason. Just thinking about sex, probably.

So, when the doorbell rang I was up and had the door open wide before I realized it wasn't Julie.

It was Linda.

And she was looking FINE! She'd done something to her hair and she had on different makeup or something. She was wearing a tube top, that clung to her medium sized breasts like it was hanging on for dear life. Her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric. Short shorts completed her ensemble, not counting the sandals and sunglasses she had on.

She lowered the sunglasses, peering over them at my semi nakedness. My boxers had little hearts on them. I got them from a previous girlfriend for Valentines day and had thought that Julie would get a kick out of them. I felt my face get about the color of the hearts.

"My, my, my" she said, smiling. "Aren't we decked out for the opera."

"Um ... sorry" I mumbled. "I thought you were somebody else."

"Oh really?" she said, looking like she knew some secret. "And who would that be?"

"Uh ... nobody. Never mind." I said brilliantly. "What's up?" I added lamely. "Come in. I'll just go put something on."

"Oh, that's OK" she said. "I won't be staying long. I just need your opinion about something." She walked past me. MAN! She smelled good!

She walked into the living room like she'd been there before, which she hadn't, and pointed to the couch. "You sit there." she said.

I sat down, puzzled as to why she'd care where or even IF I sat. "What's up?" I asked again.

She fiddled with her purse, standing in front of me. "You remember that story we read the other day? The one about the kid whose sister got a tattoo and he peeked at her?"

"Yeah, I said" It was pretty stupid. I even wrote our friend Bob a note about it."

"You're KIDDING!" she squealed. "What did he say?"

"Say?" I asked.

"Yeah, when he wrote back. What did he say?" She sounded quite confident that he'd answered my email.

"Um ... I don't know. I haven't checked my email." I said. It was true. I didn't know anybody outside of work, and sent few emails. I received even fewer.

Linda looked around "Where's your computer?"

"In the bedroom" I said.

"Where's that?" she asked. "Lets go see what he said."

I was trying to remember what condition my bedroom was in. "Linda, he probably deleted my email right away. I told him the story was no good. He wouldn't answer something like that."

Linda turned around and folded her arms under her breasts. My GOODNESS but they were tasty looking things. She had a look on her face that suggested she was not overly pleased with me.

"Dirk, Bob answers ALL his email if people leave a valid email address. He even wrote to ME one time."

"Why?" I asked.

"I wrote and told him I liked one of his stories and he wrote back and thanked me for reading it." She had a smug look on her face.

"That's not answering an email. That's acknowledging that you sent one." I was a little upset that I was having to defend myself here.

"Well, I liked it and I bet you dinner that he answered yours too. Are you chicken to look?"

So I trudged back to the bedroom, which, thankfully wasn't all that bad. The computer was on and the DSL was always on. Linda sat down like she owned the place and said "What service?" I told her and she accessed Hotmail's server. "What user name?"

"Here, let me do that" I growled. I tried to put in my user name, which is IronMan and some numbers, and then the password really fast, so she wouldn't be able to see it, but she was better than I was fast.

"Iron Man? How cute" she giggled. I had been typing sort of over her shoulder on one side and she turned to look at my boxers, just as blatantly as you can imagine. "Doesn't look much like iron to me." She laughed out loud and then giggled some more.

By then I was in and, sure enough, there was a message from Beating Off Bob. I cringed as she pulled it up. My message to him was there and his answer was above it.

It was embarrassing.

First he thanked me for my comment. Then he reminded me that he was writing fantasies, where all boys could shoot three times in a row and spurt streams of semen every time, because it would be fun to be able to actually do that, even though none of us can. Well, not at my age anyway. Then he told me to reread the story because I was wrong when I said he never mentioned the tattoo in the story after the part where the kid peeked.

I already knew I'd screwed up there, because I'd read the story again the next day and saw where the kids sees that his sister's tattoo is of a dragon.

Then he thanked me for reading and suggested that I relax a little and save being worried about stuff for real situations.

Linda turned around and looked at me. She wasn't looking at my shorts this time. "That's the story I asked you about." she said.

"Yeah?" I responded.

"You thought it was TRASH?!" she asked, her voice rising.

"Well, you know ... I mean all I did was point out some inconsistencies ... um ... I just said it wasn't very believable."

"I READ what you said Dirk." she said heatedly. "And I LIKED that story. I liked it a LOT!" she said. She was getting louder and louder. "In fact, Dirk, THAT'S why I came over here today." She looked like women do when they've proved their point, but you don't quite understand HOW they proved their point, or even THAT they proved their point.

I know you've seen that look. They all know how to do it.

Anyway, she was getting upset, and I didn't want her upset. "Look, Linda, it's no big deal. I just thought about my sister, and I couldn't fit her into that fantasy, so I thought it was stupid."

She looked at me and stood up. "I thought we explained that to you Dirk. You aren't SUPPOSED to think about your REAL sister. You're supposed to think about your PRETEND sister."

"I don't HAVE a pretend sister." I said.

"What about me?" she said. "I'm about the right age to be your sister. Is it completely impossible for you to think of ME as your pretend sister?"

OK, guys, now I know you're all with me and recognize this as one of those trick questions. No matter how you answer it, you can be wrong ... big time. Then I thought back to what had happened with Julie.

My brilliant mind came up with: "OK ... yeah ... you're right. If I HAD a pretend sister, I'd wish she was just like you."

I know all you girls out there are laughing your asses off. But it was the best I could do in a crunch, OK?

The amazing thing, now that I reflect back on it, is that it was enough for Linda. It settled her down.

"And If I was your pretend sister, you'd give me advice wouldn't you?" She asked that in a more normal voice.

"Sure" I said. It just popped out before I could stop it.

I just hate it when I open my mouth around a woman.

"Good" she said, beaming. "Cause that's why I came over today. I need your advice."

Oh shit. "Um ... what about?" I opened Pandora's box, just like that.

"Well," she said "When I read that story I thought about getting a tattoo. And I thought maybe you'd give me some advice on what kind to get ... and where to put it."

"Gee Linda" I said, putting some sorrow in my voice. "I'm not sure I know very much about tattoos. I mean I don't even know what kind they have."

"That's OK" she said. "When I went to the tattoo place they have the temporary kind? You know that you can put on with water and they stay until you wash them off? Anyway, I got some of them, so we could ... experiment."

She dug into here purse and pulled out an envelope. She dumped it on my computer desk. There were four or five little pictures, about an inch or two across.

One was a dragon.

"Wow" I said, impressed. "That's just like the one in the story."

She smiled. "Yes, that's why I got that one. So ... where do you think that one should go? I mean if I get that one."

She stood back, like that would mean I could make a decision. In the story the tattoo went right inside the border of the girl's pubic hair. I could see that in my mind, but not on Linda. I'd have to look at her ... pussy ... to visualize that, and I didn't think she'd appreciate that one bit.

I realized my eyes were firmly fixed on where I wasn't supposed to look and tore them away, lifting them up. Her eyes nailed me right then and there. She knew exactly where I had been looking.

"Do you think it would look good ... there?" Her voice was husky.

"Um ... I don't know. Maybe." I said, swallowing.

"We can put it on." she said, picking it up from the desk top. "To see what you think."

I already knew what I'd think if she put it on where the girl in the story put it.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, I figured out why she was there. It was just like Julie, who had come over to live out one of Bob's fantasies with me. She wanted to play some kind of ... game. The funny thing was, all I could think about was how she never ... ever ... talked about the guy who had gotten her pregnant. There could only be two reasons. Either he had abandoned them, or she had run from him. In either case, what she was doing with me was pretty extraordinary. She obviously trusted me.

I looked at Linda again. She was medium height, with dark blond hair. She had a nice smile, though she rarely used it. I'd seen her little girl a couple of times and she was a doll, cute as could be. Once or twice I'd thought about Linda, staying alone, never talking about the guy who fathered her child, and about how sad it was that some guy wasn't graced with her presence in his life. She was a nice woman, who had a lot to offer a guy. I needed to be nice to her.

I had been thinking instead of talking, something I should practice more often, but she was biting her lower lip, waiting for some response from me.

"Shouldn't we put all of them on?" I asked. "I mean, to get the best idea of which one would be best?"

She looked at me and, somehow, I could tell that the game had really started. She had this different look in her eyes, part hope, part lust, part "I knew I could get him if I tried". There was promise in that look. It promised that, if I did things right I'd have a very good time. And it promised that if I did things wrong, it would get ugly.

"Well, I suppose we could do that." she said, as if she'd just this second thought of it. "And ... you'd help me with that?"

"Ummm yes." I answered. "Who is this tattoo going to be for? I mean is it to make a statement to the public? Cause if it is it needs to be visible to the public."

She put her hands behind her, like a little girl who has been caught doing something wrong and hopes she can look thin and harmless enough to avoid punishment. "No" she said softly.

"Well, then, is it for some cause? Or maybe to make a point? You know, the principle of the thing?" It would need to be someplace where you COULD show it easily, but not where it would show all the time."

Again she shook her head. "No, I was thinking of doing it for my boyfriend."

"Ahhhh" I said sagely, as if I had just that second thought of that possibility. "So it could be ... well hidden. Where only he would ever see it."

Now she nodded. "Uh huh" she said. It was so totally unlike her to say that that it just sounded ... hot somehow. I didn't have to look at my shorts. I knew they were tented out.

"Well then" I said, playing my part and making sure of something. "Maybe you should have your boyfriend help you decide which one and where to put it."

She frowned beautifully. She had to have practiced that frown in the mirror for hours. The only things that moved on her face were the ends of her eyebrows and the very corners of her lips. It was more of a hint of a frown than a frown, but it was devastatingly effective.

"I don't actually HAVE a boyfriend yet. But I hope I will some day."

"Um ... I see. No boy friend. I can't believe it, but I see." It never hurt to throw in the odd well placed compliment when role playing like this.

Except it didn't really feel like role playing. She really WAS sort of like a sister to me. I mean she didn't have a man in her life, and she had to be struggling to raise her daughter alone and all, and my heart went out to her just like it would go out to my real sister if she were in that situation. And I really meant that compliment, because she WAS a babe and I COULDN'T believe she wasn't surrounded by men all the time. I thought about how I might just get lucky here, and I actually FELT ... lucky because of that.

"Well, I haven't found one yet I like enough to call him my boyfriend. I'm kind of ... picky." She knew how to throw out a random compliment too.

I decided to ratchet it up a notch. "So, this tattoo needs to be someplace where, when your boyfriend sees it, he knows he's the ONLY guy who will get to see it."

"Uh huh" she hit me hard again.

"Well, OK" I said. "Um, I don't mind and all ... helping you I mean. But it probably wouldn't be right for ME to see where this tattoo is going to go. I mean I'm not your boyfriend."

She smiled. "Yes, but you're my brother ... we're family ... so it's OK. Besides, won't the tattoo artist see it too?"

Now I tried to look studious and uninterested. Never mind I was standing there in my heart-covered boxers, with a full monte boner poking the front out seven inches.

"OK" I said, like we had just concluded a dry business deal. "So it's going to have to go in the bikini area. I mean that's the only place nobody will see but him. And me. And the tattoo artist."

"Gee, I guess you're right. Kind of like the girl in that story we read, right?"

She had decided to change her personality to that of Marilyn Monroe acting stupid, but she was so cute at it that I was having a good time. And, it gave me an opening to be the bad big brother who seduces his poor trusting little sister.

"Well, I'll go get some water" I said helpfully. "For the tattoo. And you can take all your clothes off."

"Golly!" she said breathily. "ALL of them? You mean I have to be NAKED?"

"Well sure" I said comfortingly. "I mean we have to find places to put six tattoos, and with your clothes getting in the way and all, that would be really hard. Besides, don't we need to see what you'll look like to your boyfriend? Won't HE see you naked?"

"Golly!" she sighed again. "I guess so. OK!" she said brightly. Before I could even move her tube top was down around her waist, like a thick belt. "Oops! she dimpled at me. "I pushed it the wrong way."

Who was seducing who around here?

I just stood there, leaking into my shorts. Her breasts weren't all that spectacular. I mean they weren't huge, or anything like that. But they were Playboy Bunny boobs. Full, firm, not a hint of sag, perfectly round areolas, and button nipples that were the creamy color of the chocolate milk they looked like they might be capable of squirting.

She smiled sweetly. "The water?" she prompted.

I stumbled to the kitchen and got a cereal bowl and put water in it. I grabbed the scissors from the drawer and hurried back to my bedroom, where a naked woman was waiting for me.

She was waiting, and she was naked, but she had both hands covering her pubis.

"I'm a little shy" she said, not sounding shy in the slightest. "I thought about that story, and how she had to shave a spot for the tattoo, and I thought that would look ... funny. So I kind of thought that maybe if there wasn't any hair at all, it wouldn't look funny. But I don't know. I thought my big brother would give me an honest opinion."

I leaked a LOT in my shorts then. In all my years I've never seen a real live actually shaved pussy. The idea gripped me ... like a giant hand around my balls. Oh, it was gripping me gently ... but only for now.

"Uh..." I had to clear my throat. "Gee, I don't know sis. Let's ... um ... have a gander."

Her hands came away and my knees got all rubbery. I noticed for the first time she was thin, in excellent shape. She hadn't thickened in the thighs, like a lot of women my age, and there was still a triangular shaped hollow at the top of her thighs, and one point of that triangle was made by where her thighs DID touch.

And that hollow space was full of pussy lips. Well, not FULL exactly, but they were hanging down probably a full inch from where they were attached. And I could tell just from looking that if I pinched them and pulled, they'd end up two inches long. I mean you could wrap up the knob of your dick in them like it was a birthday present or something.

At that point I was SO glad my long lost sister had found me.

"Uh, why don't you sit down ... over there." I pointed at my bed. It was fate or something that I had just put new sheets on it, and that it was actually made up for once.

She sat on the bed, with her ass right on the edge of the bed and leaned back, supporting her upper body with her arms. That thrust her breasts out at me. Then, like Mata Hari moving in for the kill, she let her knees drift slowly apart ... wider ... wider ... wider, until there was room for me to get between them.

"You can kneel there." She pointed to the floor between those lily white spread thighs. Those long loose pussy lips were stuck together.

I knelt, still holding the bowl of water and the scissors.

She held out the dragon tattoo and I trimmed around it so that it would be easier to handle. "Lets try this one first." she said. "I read the back. It says you can ... lick ... the area you want to put it on, and then you press it to where you licked, and you have to leave it there for sixty seconds."

Somehow the bad big brother's plan to seduce his little sister had been found wanting, and little sister's plan to seduce her innocent older brother had been substituted.

I looked at the bowl of water and set it carefully down on the floor. I pushed it away from me. "I always follow instructions." I said. I looked at where I was going to lick.

"Here?" I touched her skin with the tip of my index finger, well above where there used to be hair.

She shook her head.

I dragged the tip of my finger an inch closer to those fabulous floppy pussy lips and looked up at her face, framed by those glorious breasts.

Another head shake.

I slid my finger tip to within an inch of her pussy lips and she sucked in air. "There!" I said.

She was biting her lower lip, and gave me a head nod.

"OK, then" I said, like I was about to sharpen a pencil or something. "Here we go." I leaned in and stuck my tongue out as far as I could, and made it as hard as I could, and I licked the tiniest possible area, an inch from her pussy lips. I ran my tongue tip in circles while she squirmed. Then I pulled back and slapped the small piece of paper on that area and held it there. I looked up and her eyes were smoky.

"We'll just have to wait sixty seconds" I said, matter of factly. I started humming the Jeopardy tune, like they do when they're waiting for an answer.

"I don't think you got it wet enough" said Linda in a voice I did NOT recognize.

"Well, we could try again" I said amiably. "On the other side maybe? Put your finger right there." She brought a hand up and I put one of her fingers on the dragon tattoo that still had 30 seconds to go.

I got up and went to the computer, where the remaining tattoos were lying.
I was on my way back when she said "Dirk, it doesn't seem fair that I have to be naked, but you get to wear those ridiculous shorts."

I had been hoping she'd say that, but I resisted. "Well golly sis, it's just that there are some things you might not be old enough to see. I wouldn't want to shock you or anything."

"Dirk, we're just family here" she said and she sounded like Linda again. "How could you possibly shock me?

I bent over and shucked my shorts. My seven inch boner sprang out and pointed at her like a bloodhound on the trail.

"Oh my!" she said. And this time she REALLY sounded like Linda. "Maybe you CAN shock me."

I got to my knees and held out the remaining tattoos. She picked a butterfly and handed it to me. Then she put her hand back behind her and waited for me to lick that area wet. First, I pulled the first paper off. It had transferred beautifully, and she now had a tiny fire breathing dragon about an inch from her pussy. I wanted to lick that pussy so bad I was panting, but the dragon looked good, and I knew if I started making her pussy sloppy it would disappear, so I got back up and left her with a question in her eyes. I got a mirror off the hallway wall and brought it back. I positioned it for her and she stared at her new artwork.

"That, little sister, looks HOT!" I said.

"Wow! she said in a little voice. "It really does, doesn't it?"

I put the mirror on the bed beside her and got down between her spread thighs. The time for playing was over. I put the butterfly on the mirror, spread those wonderful pussy lips with my thumbs and stuck my tongue in her pussy.

She gave me a nice sound as I licked upward and ran my tongue over her clitty mound. It was almost smooth there, and I wasn't sure I'd found it until she gave a sigh when my tongue pressed there and flicked over that area several times. I sucked in those floppy outer lips, which had thickened considerably. It was really amazing. You could get them clear inside your mouth and bite on them. It was almost like having a woman's tongue in your mouth. They were THAT large. But she didn't seem to get all that big a thrill out of having them pulled on, so I went back to licking up inside her and rubbing her clitty with my upper lip.

"Ohhh Dirk, I knew you'd be good at this." she moaned. She was moving her hips around a little, and her pussy was getting nice and wet. I pulled back enough to make sure our little dragon friend was still there. He was. I licked over to the other side of her mons and got it all wet and then pulled back.

I reached for the butterfly and her eyes got wide. I honestly think she thought once I got started I wouldn't be able to stop, and that I'd act like most guys, getting myself off and if she got some, well, OK, but it wasn't a priority.

I pressed the butterfly to that area and looked at her breasts. "You know, you might want to put one on your breast somewhere."

She nodded quickly and I leaned forward to suck those beautiful chocolaty nipples. I had to suck them for at least sixty seconds. I mean, what else was I going to do while the second tattoo transferred?

When some time had passed, I reluctantly gave her back her boobs and pulled the paper off her mons. The butterfly was nice, but I wasn't much interested in it for now. I jacked my cock a couple of times, getting it ready for the main event.

Linda suddenly said "Wait!"

I groaned, and figured it was condom time.

"I also wondered what it might look like if my boyfriend had a tattoo." she said.

Now THAT wasn't something I had anticipated. She pushed me back and stood up. Then she put ME on the bed and picked up a tattoo off the mirror. She didn't even look to see which one she'd gotten.

"I have to get the area where I want it all wet." she said.

Then she leaned over and swallowed my cock.

Man, oh man. She sucked better than an Orrick eight pound vacuum. I have never had a blow job from a woman who had that kind of sucking power. I can't even describe it, except to say that I couldn't breathe because she was pulling on my cock so hard with her mouth that my diaphragm wouldn't move. I think I said "Gaack" or something like that, to let her know that it was very close to the end.

She suddenly stopped sucking and lovingly let my cock slip out of her mouth. She examined it critically and said "I'm not sure it's wet enough." Then she put her hand between her legs and came back with a shiny wet finger. "Oooo, there's LOTS of wet down there."

Well, you know the rest. She got up over me and used the index finger of each hand to spread those lips apart, and then she settled down on me to get my dick good and wet.

And she did too.

Five minutes later I was sure she was a secret agent or something, and that she took the job at the hospital as a cover, because this woman had no business being without a man. She fucked like she sucked, with vigor, expertise and enthusiasm. She ripped through two orgasms and convinced me beyond any doubt that it was me who gave them to her, even though all I was doing was lying there being happy. No man in his right mind would walk away from this woman once she'd bedded him. In fact, just as I felt her sucking the cum out of my balls I even said it.

"Ohhh Linda baby, you just HAVE to marry me." I felt pretty stupid, but I had to say that.

She laughed out loud, her hair flying and her hips rocking back and forth like a washing machine that's out of balance and on high spin. "Aww Dirk, you're so sweet" she moaned. She somehow leaned over and gave me a long kiss as she continued that rapid heart-stopping fuck motion.

And as I fountained inside her, blasting her full of my hot creamy spend, she said "But brothers can't marry their sisters." Then I got some more kisses as she slowly melted on top of me, covering my chest with hers. She put her face in my neck and breathed warm breath on me.

I felt wonderful. We lay there for a while, nuzzling and kissing and just breathing. It was so comfortable that I fell asleep. I remember feeling her move but I didn't wake up.

When I DID wake up, I was alone. I felt really sad