mind control 3

The sensation of a slick, wet, tightness enveloping his aching length sent him reeling. Jacob couldn't process any coherent thoughts, gone stupid at the thought that his sister was riding him exuberantly like there was no tomorrow. She was screaming and moaning and chanting his name like,

"JakeyJakeyJakey! Oh, Jakey! YES, JACOB. I'm coming—I'm—!"

"Me too, Grace! So beautiful. Oh, fuck, fuck—FUCK YES—uuhhhh—"

Jacob gasped awake, his eyes snapping open and staring unseeingly at the ceiling as he attained consciousness mid-orgasm. He balls drew up and his cock twitched and pulsed as thick white ropes of ejaculate jet streamed from his slit and hit him directly on the mouth, over his chin, and all over his six-pack. His orgasm left his entire chest and abdomen thickly painted. Even though his orgasm was over, Jacob's body was wracked with shivers of pleasurable aftershocks, and Jacob happily let the fading ecstasy run its course.

He hurriedly swiped the cum off his lips with the back of his hand, making a disgusted face at having almost tasted his own jizz. Relaxed and weary from the intense bliss of orgasm, Jacob gently brushed a fingertip from the base of his cock all the way to the oversensitive tip, inciting another full-body shiver from him. Overwhelmed, he gripped his testicles and gave them a firm squeeze before he dropped his hand on the bed and sighed again.

Jacob was stunned. He hadn't had a wet dream since he was teenager. Actually, more specifically, the last time he had a wet dream was in his early teens. After he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend at sixteen, they had stopped entirely. And then of course, after the shock from his dream about his sister had worn off, guilt consumed him once again. Never in his nearly two decades of living had he ever dealt with so much guilt—guilt that felt as heavy as the world on his shoulders. The emotion made last night's dinner churn unpleasantly in his stomach, making him sick. What would people think if they found out about his fantasies? The nasty wet dream that he was sure was to become a regular occurrence from then on? Would they feel disgusted like he did when he was imagining fucking his sister, and he was staring at dark eyes so similar to his own (the eyes that he and his sister inherited from their deceased mother) as he plowed repeatedly into her sopping cunt?

Christ. Jacob stumbled into his connected bathroom, his still-hard cock swinging heavily between his legs. He slammed his fist onto the light switch, caught a flash of haunted dark eyes in the mirror before he completely lost it and fell to his knees in front of the toilet bowl and vomited.

. . . . ~*~ . . . .

Grace couldn't cook to save her life. Sometimes their father cooked, which was usually a relief for Jacob. But he wasn't around a lot because of his job, so it was usually up to Jacob to cook or order takeout for him and his sister.

Jacob was at the stove cooking some scrambled eggs and has his backed turned when he felt Grace's presence enter the kitchen. She was silent like usual, but it didn't matter. Jacob's body would always know if she was near. Immediately, he tensed up, waiting for her to freak out and punish him for his abhorrent behavior for the other day, for touching her in a place that was intimate and reserved only for her future husband.

But there was only the sound of chair legs dragging across the floor as it was being pulled out and the rustle of fabric as Grace settled in quietly.

Breakfast was an awkward affair. Grace wouldn't look at him once, which simultaneously made him relieved but also pissed off that she wasn't acknowledging him. They both ate their eggs fast and then each bolted to their own rooms to get ready for school. Jacob was just glad to be rid of the suffocating atmosphere.

. . . . ~*~ . . . .

Class was more hellish than usual. The entire time that the professor was talking about proteins and chemicals or something "interesting" like that, Jacob was fretting and agonizing over what to do with his persistent erection straining against the fabric of his jeans. He wasn't a small boy; his penis outline was painfully obvious even whilst sitting down, especially the cockhead, and he only had twenty minutes left of class to get rid of it lest everyone sees it once he stood up. Because once again—unsurprisingly—the absent interest in his class left his mind free to do its favorite pastime nowadays: fantasize about his little sister.

And the fantasy was even worse than usual. He believed it was one thing to fantasize about passionately making love to Grace in the comfort of a soft bed under the ethereal light of the moon whilst whispering encouraging words in her ear. But it was whole other thing to fantasize about fucking and ravaging and generally going crazy on top of his sister in a classroom in front of an audience. It was even more disgusting than his usual thoughts about her, because how dare he envision debasing her body and reputation in front of his classmates? He would be exposing her in such a way that would leave her vulnerable in a literal and figurative way. He loved his sister; he cared about her. He wanted nothing more than the very best for her. The very thought of her crying, unhappy at his taking her in front of the class left his heart aching.

And yet . . . his cock was aching too. It didn't matter what his heart or mind wanted or even what he felt. Because what his cock wanted was to sweep everything off the professor's desk, throw Grace's little body on top, and literally rip her clothes off. Jacob's mouth was watering at the image of Grace's T-shirt fabric ripping in his hands as the tear revealed more and more of her flawless pale skin. His cock twitched at the thought of hearing her soft cry of shock at Jacob's ministrations of strength, her eyes glazing with all-empowering lust, her pupils dilating and making her dark eyes even darker. He would worship her body before everybody's very eyes, soothing Grace's needy whimpers with kisses all over her breasts and stomach. And when he would cover her body with his own—not bothering to take her skirt off—he would tug her panties to the side and shove in with one desperate push, breaking her hymen and fucking her at a demanding pace right off the bat.

Jacob exhaled shakily and glanced around the classroom. Nobody was paying any attention to the professor or to him either, luckily. Some were either dozing off, some were on their phones, and some were daydreaming. Confident now that he can be discrete, Jacob slipped his right hand under the desk and cupped his hard-on through his jeans. He had to bend his head down and bite savagely on his lip to cover up the look of fierce relief on his face. He stroked his full length to the thought of him fucking his sister in front of the eyes of his greedy audience. He would make her his—all his. His. His. Hishishis. Knowing that they all wanted a piece of his sister, too, but couldn't have her, couldn't lay a finger on her, filled him with deep pride and satisfaction.

Grace would scream and thrash in overwhelming pleasure to the point where her big pretty eyes would gloss over with tears, but she would beg him to not stop—she couldn't handle it if he stopped. He would be glad for that, because if she did ask him to stop, he wouldn't know how. And when he would lean over to give Grace a tender kiss that would juxtapose the extreme brutality his cock was giving her pussy, her muscles would clench deliciously around him.

In real life, Jacob's hand gripped his cockhead savagely, applying so much pressure the way he knew Grace's tight virgin pussy would feel like. He felt an exuberant amount of pre-cum leak from his slit. For the duration of the class period, he stroked and grabbed his hard-on hoping to hell that nobody would notice what he was doing to himself underneath the desk. And finally, whilst the professor was wrapping up the class, he came at the same time that imaginary Grace did. She would scream and cry and clench around him, all the whilst praising that he was so good. He did such a good job. And because Jacob can't ejaculate like a normal person, his come soaked him through and through, managing to leak past his boxer briefs and his jeans, creating a gigantic dark wet patch over his left hip.

He pulled his over-large hoodie down to cover it. He just knew that his entire face must've been encompassed in red—it was burning. He felt like every single eye was trained on him as he slid on his backpack and shuffled over to the classroom door. They knew. Everybody knew—the professor knew, the students knew.

He headed on home completely humiliated despite nobody having seen his shame.

. . . . ~*~ . . . .

When he arrived at his old high school, he stood at his usual spot near the school's front entrance gate and waited for Grace.

And waited. . . .

And waited.

Usually Grace would be standing in the courtyard with all her friends quietly talking whilst she waited for him to pick her up. She's a shy girl, so she's gotten into the habit of arriving to places and events directly on the dot or even earlier than the required time so as to not attract any unwanted extra attention to herself. For anybody else, waiting wouldn't be such a big deal. Sometimes things happen, and that's understandable. But with Grace, it was different. Grace was unfailingly punctual since forever, and the fact that she wasn't appearing anywhere as he searched anxiously with his eyes has got Jacob sweating. Logically, Jacob knew that nothing could've possibly happened to her whilst she was at school—not with a bunch of teachers overseeing the students. And Grace wasn't the type to ditch either; she's too much of a goody-two-shoes. Jacob's mind started to race with ridiculous hypothetical scenarios. Maybe she was taken by a sexual trafficker. One can never know what new strategies they're making these days to steal pretty boys and girls—it can happen in broad daylight. And god, Lord knows that Grace was prime takings with her petite build and doll-like face. They'd have a field day with her.

The crowd was beginning to thin out as students started their walks home or clambered into their parents' cars. Jacob was ringing and ringing her cell, but she didn't pick up on all twenty attempts. Still no Grace. Jacob's heart pumped faster and he could feel cold sweat starting to trickle down his neck.

He decided to just fuck it and talk to Grace's two friends who were still loitering around the school's front doors.

"Hey, um—" His voice broke and he had to clear his throat. He fiddled with his hoodie strings as he talked, not even bothering to make eye contact and instead scanned the school grounds anxiously. "Where, uh—where's Grace? It's been ten minutes and she's not here."

"Oh, she didn't text you? She said that she was going to take the bus home," one of them said.

He froze, his hand wrapped around his hoodie string stopped mid-twirl. He had been looking at a group of teenagers sitting under a tree, but his vision couldn't focus. His mind zeroed in on the words: "She took the bus home." And they replayed over and over in his mind, before he could finally properly process them. A blossoming of pain erupted in his lower abdomen. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. All the breath in his lungs came out of him in a whoosh. He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick. He felt so, so cold and the sweat was practically coating his nape and forehead. And it must've shown on his face, because the girls stared at him in confusion and then at each other, silently communicating their judgement.

But he didn't give a shit about what they were thinking. He gave a shit (maybe too much) about Grace and the fact that she would rather spend two hours—two hours!—on a dirty, old stinky school bus repeating the same pop music over and over again than spend thirty minutes with him in his car.

He was devastated.

. . . . ~*~ . . . .

He was sat at the kitchen table sleeping with his head in his arms when the front door busted open. Quickly, he jerked awake and stared at Grace with wide disoriented eyes as she stepped into the foyer.

She looked up and her mouth popped open in surprise. "Oh." She averted her gaze to her feet as she took off her shoes. "You didn't have to wait for me. . . ."

"Grace. . . ." He stood up slowly and watched her wary approach. Her gait was stiff and wooden-like, and she couldn't keep eye contact as she neared her older brother. She gripped the edge of the kitchen table, and waited for what he had to say. He couldn't gauge her emotions or thoughts with her head bent low and her jet-black her obscuring her face. He whispered tentatively, "Are you angry at me, Grace . . . ? Please don't be angry at me. . . ,"

Jacob bit his lip savagely. It was because of the way he treated her yesterday, he thought. He was too rough. He behaved inappropriately and abused his power as his role of an older brother and guardian. There was no question that he crossed the line and now he was paying for his careless mistakes. If Grace said that she hated him—if she couldn't stand to be around him anymore—oh God, without Grace how would he ever live—

Her head jerked roughly at him, and finally, she made eye contact. "W-what?!" She shook her head fervently. "No, no! I'm not angry at you!"

There was a long pause as Grace stared at him in confusion and shock. Jacob studied her carefully, his heart beating too loud in his ears as he looked at one eye and then the other. Then Jacob's initial fear and apprehension erased and his brows drew downwards in anger. "Then why'd you avoid me today? And why didn't you tell me you were taking the bus?" He anxiously tugged at his blond roots with both hands, looking every bit as wild and distraught as he felt. He stepped away from his chair and began to pace the kitchen. "Do you know how frustrated I was when I looked all over campus grounds for you, and you were nowhere to be found? And I was calling you and calling you—eventually I had to ask your friends, but still! Why should I have to get your whereabouts from your friends when I should've gotten it from you?!"

Grace's small body started to tremble, and that stopped him in tracks. Her eyes looked glossy, and her voice sounded garbled when she said, "I'm sorry, Jakey! I just wanted some time to think, and I just thought maybe that a ride on the bus would help. And I didn't text you 'cause my phone ran outta battery, I swear! Look!" She yanked her phone out of her skirt and jabbed at the home button desperately. True to her words, her phone didn't respond.

Jacob stared at the blank phone intently, his chest heaving as he forced himself to calm down and try to soak in her explanation.

"I swear to you, I wasn't avoiding you or trying to make you worry. . . . But you're right; I shouldn't've done that without finding some way to let you know ahead of time first. . . ." At this point, tears were falling down her cheeks and pooling underneath her chin. Her tiny sniffles were cracking away at his heart.

His resolve crumbled at the sight before him. He scrambled over to her and wrapped her up securely in his arms. He rubbed her quivering back, and bent over a little to kiss the top of her head. "Hey, hey, no, none of that now," he murmured in her hair. "I'm the one that's sorry. I overreacted. It was just a tiny mess-up. It's okay," he crooned. He hooked his finger underneath her chin and forced her to look up at him. She had to crane her neck all the way back to look at him face-to-face. He wiped away a stray tear on her cheek only to have it replaced by another one. "It's okay. No more crying now, okay, Princess?"

Her eyes squinted and pushed out more tears as she huffed out an amused laugh. "Ugh! I cry so easily, don't I?" She sniffled and frantically wiped her face with her hands and sleeves.

This time Jacob was the one to laugh, throwing his head back and shaking Grace with his mirth. It was a full laugh full of relief and happiness. "Yeah, but it's endearing. Don't worry," he said. And it truly was. He was enamored with the fact that his little sister was so innocent and naïve, keeping her heart so free that any small amount of sadness is enough to affect her more than the average person. On some kind of level, he knew that keeping her heart so unprotected was dangerous, but he was selfish. He didn't want Grace any other way.

"Oh, god, I hope so, ha," she said weakly, wiping the last tear away. "'Cause otherwise how would my future husband ever deal with me?"

Those words pierced him straight to his heart, making him wince. Jacob read about heartache in a lot of books, and he's watched it in movies, but he never thought that it would feel like an arrow was literally piercing his heart, poking through on the other side. He hated the thought of some strange man sweeping his precious little sister off her unsuspecting feet. That man would take away the one thing he loved most in his life. And then what would he have left? Grace was everything, and if she's gone . . . if she's gone. . . . If one day she'd be out there in the world with someone else loving her and making her happy. . . . It tore him apart. It was simply a fact that he would never have a normal marriage with his sister, and inwardly, he knew that. But to actually acknowledge it made an ocean of jealousy and heartache crush him.

Tremors shot down his arms and he tightened his hold on her so she wouldn't feel it. He kissed the top of her head again and said, "You're too young to think about shit like that right now." He felt her muffle a laugh against his hoodie. He began to feel his insides thaw out, thinking that everything was okay for now. They cleared up any misunderstandings. Except. . . . His whole body stiffened when he remembered what made Grace take the bus in the first place. "Sis . . . do you . . . do you wanna talk about yesterday . . . ?"

Grace tensed in his arms, and her fingers clutched at his hoodie. She kept her head down, staying silent for such a long moment. Every second that went by, Jacob panicked. Once again, her silence threw him into an anxiety spiral and he imagined scenarios of her striking him down with apathy and unsympathetic eyes. Then, "No," she said, shaking her head. "There's nothing to talk about."

Jacob drew a breath in and his head swirled in confusion. She was giving him a way out. She was pointing him to the door where he could escape scot-free. Jacob swallowed thickly, his gut churning at the thought that he would go unreprimanded for his sins committed. It was horrible, he knew. It was horrible that he's imagined in sister in several different compromising situations. It was more horrible that it went past basic sexual urges, and that he might even love her in a non-platonic way. . . . And it was the worst that even despite knowing that the entire scenario was wrong in every conceivable way, he knew that he wouldn't be able to resist her. He'd keep coming back, and he'd just keep wanting more and more and more. . . .

And damn him—he took the cop-out.

. . . . ~*~ . . . .

After a few hours of homework together at the kitchen table, they decided to end the stressful day with a movie or two to help unwind. It took them a couple minutes to decide on a movie (Jacob wanted horror whilst Grace wanted comedy), but they finally comprised on a psychological drama about the declining mental health of a ballerina.

Jacob slipped the DVD into the player and then collapsed onto the right side of the couch, propping his elbow and head up on the armrest. He left more than half of the couch for Grace so she could lay down and stretch her legs. But to his surprise, his baby sister walked back into the living room and plopped herself on his lap and the popcorn bowl on top of hers. She turned sideways, tucker her head under Jacob's chin, and unfolded her flawless legs on the empty space Jacob intended for her to sit in.

Caught off-guard, Jacob could only say, "Ergh" as he contemplated what to do with her. With all his perverted thoughts about his little sister lately, definitely having her on his lap was a hundred percent inappropriate. It compromised his already crumbling grasp of self-control. She was too close. Her warmth was enveloping him. Her soft ass cheeks were on his steadily growing erection. It was too much—all too tempting. But like usual, he couldn't resist her soft and plush body pressing against his. He couldn't resist the flowery smell of her shampoo invading his senses every time she swished her hair. And he absolutely couldn't resist the vulnerable way that she cuddled into him, like he was her body pillow or something.

He cautiously wrapped his arms around her, giving her ample time to protest his embrace if she wanted to. And when she didn't say a word, he settled one hand on her thin side and one on her thigh very close to her ass cheek. His thumb flirted with the edge of her booty shorts—so, so near to her warm cunt.

Grace relaxed further into him and they were content to watch the movie and share popcorn.

It was difficult. It was very, very difficult to keep it under control. He tried to think about dead puppies or naked grandmas or dismembered limbs, but none of it worked. His erection was at full mast. It was all useless when every other second Grace would move and suddenly his concentration would shatter with overstimulated senses of everything Grace and his arousal would become reinvigorated. And even the tiniest, most innocent movement zapped intense bolts of pleasure straight up into cock and balls. His face was on fire, wondering if Grace could feel his wildly twitching cock that was eager to plunge into her needy depths. The only thing that was keeping just that from happening was Jacob's jeans and Grace's thin cotton shorts.

Then the worst possible thing to happen to Jacob's self-control happened. To his shock, the heroine on screen started masturbating, touching herself in a very filthy way. And his cock was all too eager to switch up the image on screen from the heroine touching herself to Grace touching herself. Grace tentatively touching her pussy for the first time that didn't involve cleaning or washing. Grace finding out just how fantastic it felt to brush a fingertip to her hardened clit. Grace's pussy gushing with newfound sexual awakenings—so wet and sweet and it's a fucking deluge between her legs she can't help it it won't stop gushing it's so good—

Grace shifted on his lap uncomfortably and it was then that Jacob realized that his thigh felt a little damp. Biting his lip, Jacob attributed the wetness to his probably embarrassing amount of pre-ejaculate he was producing. But then his little sister shifted again, and the dampness on his right thigh increased tenfold. The dampness on his thigh was not anywhere near his cockhead; he dressed left today as he always does. Heat started to crawl into his face around his cheeks, eyes, and the tips of his ears.

He was embarrassed to speak, but he knew Grace'd feel bad if he didn't tell her. "Princess . . . ?" he said in a soft tone. He emphasized his words with a gentle rubbing of her back. "I think—I think maybe you bled on me."

"Huh?" Grace squeaked. She turned around and looked at him in confusion and panic. Their faces were only a few inches away. Jacob's vision was suddenly filled with wide dark eyes. "What do you mean? I finished my period literally just last week."

"Oh, but. . . ." Instead of explaining, Jacob decided to see for himself what the dampness was. He gripped both of her hips and tilted her off his lap a little—and the smell hit him hard. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head by how potent it was. The dampness on his thigh wasn't blood; it was her pussy juices. It had soaked through her cotton shorts, through the thick fabric of his jeans. The wet spot was humongous on his jeans and even bigger on her shorts. He wondered how Grace didn't even notice before he did.

His head was swimming with the beautiful sight of Grace's thin shorts clinging the shape of his little sister's pussy and butt. The cotton was so soaked, it had become transparent and he could see practically every detail of Grace's delicate rose folds. Her labia were quite prominent and impossible to take his eyes off.

His cock pulsed and twitched.

Jacob swallowed and snapped his gaze back to his sister's face after he heard her gasp.

"Oh my god!" she said. Her face was encompassed in red. A very, very tomato red. She attempted to scramble off his lap to run away and to possibly lock herself in her room, but Jacob held fast to her hips. Holding her down with just his hands was an effortless task.

"I-it's okay! Calm down, Grace!" She continued to fidget out of his hold, and when she began to realize her escape was futile, she busted into tears.

"Oh god. What's wrong with me?!" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. "I—I—I was watching her do—do that and then I felt so weird and—and—and why is there so much?!"

Jacob hurried to do damage control, all the while the strong smell of her arousal clouded his vision. "It's okay," he rasped. "It's natural. This is normal. . . ."

She cried loud and hard for the next ten minutes. After that, she finally started to calm down into silence, only a few sniffles and hiccups emitted from her. She looked up slowly at her big brother, her eyes, nose, and lips were a pretty rose pink. "Did this ever happen to any of the girls you've been with? I don't know . . . I don't know anything about all this. . . ." she said, waving vaguely at her crotch.

Jacob bit his bottom lip. His ex-girlfriends would create small little wet spots on their panties whenever they were turned on, but they never actually leaked so much that he's seen with Grace. Not that he was disgusted or complaining though. Maybe just the opposite. . . . "Yeah, of course, princess. Like I said, it's normal."

"But it's so inconvenient! It just happens without my telling it to!" she wailed. "How do I stop it?"

Jacob sympathized. "Well. . . ." His hands moved up and started stroking her exposed sides. Each time that he stroked up, his fingers brushed the tiny swells of her breasts. "The only way to really stop it is to satiate your need. Just like what she did in the movie."

Her eyes were big and innocent. "What was she doing . . . ?"

Jacob's hands froze and her gripped her hard. How was it possible that Grace was in high school, but she knew next to nothing about masturbation or sex? Oh, she was innocent. So innocent. Untouched. Jacob's head swam and a darkness swirled in his core. There was an almost caveman impulse to take her, mark her neck up with hickeys, make her all his—but he shook his head and refocused on Grace's current dilemma.

"She was pleasuring herself, Grace. Masturbating."

"I know what masturbation is, you dunce," she snapped, her face contorting in annoyance. But then her features smoothed out and she suddenly looked scared and unsure. "But how? What was she—what was she doing? How do I . . . do it?"

Jacob gaped at her. "Are you kidding? You mean you've never experimented on yourself?"

She stiffened up in defence and retorted, "No! Because it's gross!" She fiddled with the hem of her crop top. She whispered, "And I've never felt this way before. . . ."

Jacob relaxed and started stroking her sides again. Grace subconsciously responded to his touch, her back arching, her nipples hardening and showing through her skimpy shirt. Her breaths started to quicken.

"You can watch videos online, if you don't know what do," he said, a vision flashing in his mind of Grace finding time to secretly watch porn on her laptop and touching herself with light hesitant fingertips. But then, that would be her first time being pleasured down there, and the thought of any of her first times being given to anyone other than him filled him with desperation and fury. "Or . . . I could teach you." His eyes lit up with the epiphany. "Grace, I can teach you! I've done it too many times with my exes. I can teach you how to pleasure yourself."

Grace gasped and held her breath. She stared at him with her big dark eyes, maybe waiting for him to say that he was joking or something. But no, Jacob was too far gone in his perversion. He wanted to be the first one to ever touch his princess's sopping pussy, to ever make her scream and shatter in her very first orgasm.

He watched her throat move as she swallowed nervously. "Okay. Yeah. Please . . . help me."

Author's note: Guys, university sucks. LOL. I never used to get acne, that is, until I've reached junior year of uni. Now I have a splattering of pimples on the left side of my face.

Please no, body. Be kind to me