The Secret My Brother Was Hiding on His Laptop

I have secrets that shame me. I suppose that because I had never been with anyone, I started collecting weird habits, and what began as simple curiosity turned into something else. First it was porn where the woman was in charge, women in latex and heels squeezing naked guys’ balls, spitting in their faces while they came on their own, unable to touch themselves. Then came the hard stuff: sharp blows between the legs, submission, pain, bruised cocks, guys begging on their knees while a bitch in leather boots kicked them in the balls. I’d jerk off watching the cum fly out from the impact, watching that dick stay hard despite the blow, watching the guy moan in humiliation. And when I thought I couldn’t sink any lower, I started looking for stories with a filthy family kink I would never admit out loud, stories about bitchy sisters who discovered their brother’s vice and crushed him between the legs until he came into his own hand, whispering “jerk-off” in his ear. That was when I started looking at Daniela with different eyes.

My sister and I were never very close. I stayed shut up in my room, she in hers. We barely talked at mealtimes, and almost always with our phones in our hands. But she’s beautiful, I can’t deny it: light brown skin, thick black hair that she treats like treasure, inherited from our mother. Around the house she wears tiny shorts that wedge between her ass cheeks and loose blouses, sometimes without a bra, with her nipples showing through the fabric whenever it’s cold or she stretches.

As if someone had flipped a switch, all at once I started noticing how pretty she was. My whole life I told her she was ugly just to annoy her, even though I knew I was lying inside. Only a few days ago did I really start paying attention to her legs, the curve of her thighs, the line of her perky ass when she bent over, her delicate feet with red-painted toenails. And her tits were another story. I forced myself not to look at them during meals, and that was exactly the worst part: the more I avoided them, the more I thought about them, about how they’d move if I grabbed them, about what her nipples would feel like under my tongue.

When she came down the stairs fast and they bounced under her blouse, it was almost hypnotic. Sometimes I’d stare at something nearby and catch them out of the corner of my eye, but my whole body begged me to look straight at them, rip her blouse off, suck on them until she went crazy. A torture. I’d get hard under the table and have to cross my legs so my mother wouldn’t notice the bulge.

***

There he goes again, the idiot, staring at my tits during dinner. It was only a fraction of a second, a quick glance he immediately tried to hide so he wouldn’t get in trouble, but I’m sure he saw them. Honestly, it made me laugh. I like that he wants to look at them and can’t, because I’m his sister, because they forbid him from wanting me and yet his eyes keep drifting to my cleavage like it’s a magnet.

As kids we played together all the time, but as we grew up we drifted apart. Part of me misses those years: throwing rocks at bottles in the yard, the times he’d go with me to the store and buy me candy with his Sunday allowance. We loved each other so much. Then adolescence came and we each got on with our own lives, even though we slept four meters apart.

One night I got up for water and, passing in front of his half-open door, I heard a strange rustle of fabric and ragged, broken breathing. The idiot never closes it all the way because he hates feeling trapped. I peeked in just a little and saw the comforter shifting with an unmistakable rhythm, the movement of his arm under the blanket and that wet, sticky sound I had never heard in person but recognized instantly: my brother was jerking off. There was a little blue glow reflected on his face: he must’ve been watching porn with his headphones on, biting his lip, with his hard cock in his hand.

I stayed longer than I should have, watching through the crack, feeling my heart speed up. When his breathing turned rougher, when the movement of his arm quickened, I pulled away and went back to my room on tiptoe. From that night on I knew my brother had changed, and so had I. There was nothing wrong with it, but I understood that nothing would ever be the same again. And, I admit it, I felt a strange curiosity about what the hell he was looking at on that screen that got him so horny.

***

The opportunity came days later. We were about to go to sleep when my mother shouted for him because he had forgotten to take out the trash.

“Andrés, you didn’t take out the trash!” she bellowed from downstairs.

“I forgot! I’ll do it tomorrow,” he yelled back.

“No, tomorrow they come early. Do it now.”

I heard him leave his room reluctantly. I knew it was my chance, one that might not come again. I went in expecting to find his phone on the bed, but instead I found the laptop open. From far away I saw a woman dressed in leather and a naked man, kneeling on the floor, his erect cock pointing at her face. I turned the screen to see better. I didn’t understand the title, I only caught a couple of words in English, so I rewound the video.

When I hit play, I saw how that woman had the naked guy on his knees, his cock stiff and red, and she delivered a sharp kick right between his legs, planting her heel in his balls. The guy doubled over, moaning, but his cock got even harder. I opened my eyes wide. She laughed, grabbed his tie, pulled him toward her, and kicked him again, and again, until the man came on his own, in spurts, without touching himself, his face soaked with spit and tears. My brother is completely fucked in the head. How can he like something so weird? And yet I kept watching, biting my lip, with a strange heat rising between my legs.

He had dozens of tabs open. I clicked through them one by one: all the same style, terms that meant nothing to me. On one I saw the word “castration” over a very long text I couldn’t make out, and I got a shiver. In another tab there was a different story. The title froze the blood in my veins: “My Sister Dominates Me.”

I’d seen enough. I turned the laptop back where it was and almost ran to my room. I shut the door and stood there in shock, with too much to process. I threw myself onto the bed, stared at the ceiling, and started talking to myself.

Why does he look at such strange things? Does he fantasize about me? Does it turn him on to get hit down there, or just to watch it happen to other guys? Would he like it if I did it? Would he get hard if I grabbed his balls and squeezed?

You’re crazy. You can’t kick your brother in the balls... although it would be fun. But it would be wrong if I know it turns him on. Although he doesn’t know that I know. So would it really be that wrong?

Damn it. I couldn’t get what I’d seen out of my head. Snooping had been a terrible idea, but at least now I understood why he kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he really was fantasizing about me, maybe he was jerking off thinking about my tits, my cunt, my ass. The idea, instead of disgusting me, tightened something low in my belly.

I decided to ignore it, pretend it never happened. And even so, curiosity kept eating at me, wanting to know if he’d like me to hit him, if I’d like doing it. Boys hit each other there while playing all the time. I’m his sister, I have the right to once, don’t I? I was so confused, so wet, so turned on without wanting to admit it.

***

I was giving myself the best jerk-off of my life. I’d been holding out for a while so I could finish at the best possible moment, my cock in my fist, squeezing the base so I wouldn’t cum too soon, watching on the screen as some chick drove her knee into a guy’s balls until he cried from pleasure. My balls were clenched tight against my body, the tip wet with precum, and right then my mother told me to take out the trash. What a pain. I was hard as a rock, red, throbbing, and there was no way I could go out like that, so I shoved it upward with the elastic of my shorts, pinning it against my stomach, and went downstairs reluctantly, praying no one would notice.

When I finally headed back to my room, I heard Daniela’s door close as she came up the stairs. I locked myself in and, when I picked up the laptop, I saw the browser was right on the brother story I’d been planning to read before getting distracted by the other stuff. My blood ran cold. Did she go in? Did she use my laptop?

It couldn’t be. Had she seen the story tab? I felt like everything was going to hell. The uncertainty was killing me, but I decided the best thing was to act like an idiot and keep things the same.

The doubt killed my mood. My cock went soft in my hand, limp and sad against my stomach. I lay down thinking maybe the best thing was to quit porn once and for all, or at least settle for normal stuff. I was set on cutting all that out when a new fantasy crossed my mind: me jerking off to those stories and, out of nowhere, my sister walking in, telling me she knew everything, lying down beside me, grabbing my cock with her small hand and whispering in my ear, “So you fantasize about this, little brother.” That image, despite the anxiety, made me hard as a rock again, and in less than a minute of furious stroking I finished, shooting hot semen across my stomach in three, four thick spurts that reached my chest.

***

What was done was done. Now I knew my brother, besides being a jerk-off, had some seriously weird fantasies about me. I’m ashamed to admit it, but thinking he desired me didn’t make me uncomfortable. On the contrary. All night I kept turning over whether I should find out, once and for all, whether he really liked that or only liked it when it was done to other people. I slept badly too, my hand between my legs, imagining what it would be like to have him face down, helpless, with his balls in my fist.

The next day, when my mother called us to eat, I don’t really know why I went down in a low-cut blouse with no bra and the shortest shorts I owned. This time I paid more attention. It was obvious how he stole one-second glances at my breasts, how his eyes kept drifting to my neckline every time I leaned over to serve myself. I’m very thin, but I have a pronounced bust, and feeling him look at me did something strange to me, a tingle in my nipples that made them hard on their own under the thin fabric. Part of me wanted to show him more, pull out a breast and put it in his face, even though I knew it was wrong.

We finished eating and everything was going to go back to normal. Part of me didn’t want that.

“Let’s watch a movie on the sofa,” I blurted out before he could lock himself away.

“Which one?”

“I don’t know, any one. A horror movie?”

“Those don’t let you sleep.”

“Don’t be a scaredy-cat, you’re grown up now,” he said.

“Whatever.”

He looked through the options and put on the first old horror movie that came up. Our mother went upstairs to read in her room; at night she never came back down except for water. Everything was perfect.

“That movie is a thousand years old. Wasn’t there anything from this millennium?”

“It’s one of my favorites. And we haven’t watched it since we were kids.”

That made me remember when our parents forbade it and we watched it secretly in the middle of the night. It scared me so much I ended up sleeping with him.

Fifteen minutes passed. The beginning was slow, so we talked off and on. It felt nice to get that connection back. I settled in, resting my head against the backrest, and put my feet on his legs, very close to where the bulge was marked under his shorts.

“Take your feet off,” he said, pushing them a little.

“You chose the movie, let me be comfortable, idiot.”

Something told me he was only acting, that deep down he loved having my feet in his lap. There was a soft tension we disguised as hostility. I wiggled my toes, barely brushing him, as if by accident, feeling the heat of his crotch against the soles of my feet.

***

My sister’s feet, so close to my cock. I tried to push away any dirty thought, but it was impossible with those legs within reach, those red toes moving millimeters above the bulge that was already starting to swell in my shorts. I made a show of pushing them away so she wouldn’t suspect anything, and even then I couldn’t really move them. I wanted them to stay there. I wanted her to lower them, to squeeze my balls with her foot, to step on my dick until I moaned.

After a while she took them away, went to the kitchen for water, and came back, but this time she sat right next to me, pressed against me, with the whole sofa empty. Then she rested her head on my shoulder. The smell of her hair, the heat of her arm against mine, woke up a brutal desire in me and, at the same time, a calm I hadn’t felt in years. My cock was half hard without me being able to stop it, pressing against the fabric. I wanted to hug her with all my strength, shove my tongue in her mouth, rip off her blouse and suck on her tits until I left them bruised, but I was afraid of scaring her. Like the coward I am, I did nothing.

***

Resting on his shoulder, I thought that, degenerate or not, I wanted him. I tried to focus on the movie, but my new curiosity wouldn’t leave me in peace.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Andrés?”

“No.”

“Why? Doesn’t anyone like you?”

“I guess I’m not that interested.”

“Maybe you’re ugly.”

“Almost as much as you,” he shot back.

“You know I’m not ugly.”

“Think whatever makes you feel better.”

Then I came up with a brilliant plan.

“If you thought I was ugly, you wouldn’t stare at my tits every day.”

“Keep dreaming,” he said. He still wasn’t biting.

“Don’t you have the balls to admit it?”

“More like you don’t have any tits worth looking at.”

“Whaaat?” I said, pretending to be offended.

“That you’re flatter than a board,” he finished mercilessly.

It was now or never. I had the perfect excuse. I pushed myself up off his shoulder and threw a good punch right between his legs. The idiot was wearing baggy shorts; I felt the bulge against my fist on impact, the balls flattening under my knuckles, soft and hot. He let out a choked cry of pain and doubled over toward the right side of the sofa, grabbing his crotch with both hands, his face red and his eyes squeezed shut. I felt a little guilty: maybe I’d gone too far. I laughed, but inside something pricked at my conscience. And something lower down, between my legs, was getting wet without permission.

***

I couldn’t believe what my sister had just done. A massive hit, dead on, with the shorts not protecting anything. I fell onto my side, curled up, my balls throbbing, with that dull nausea that rises from your stomach when someone blows your balls apart, while the bitch laughed. And then, after a few seconds, when the sharp pain began to fade, the other feeling arrived: an arousal that ran through me completely. Her fist against my balls, her laugh of pleasure, the certainty that she had wanted to do it. I would remember that forever. I felt my cock, despite the pain, start swelling inside my shorts, pushing against the fabric.

“Ow, that really hurt, dummy.”

“You deserved it.”

“You went too far, Daniela.”

“Don’t be a crybaby, it was just a little tap,” though I think she knew it had been hard.

The sharp pain faded, leaving only an echo, a heavy throb in my balls, a memory my pride embraced tenderly while my cock kept inflating without my being able to stop it.

“I’m going to the kitchen, want anything?” she said, getting up.

“No.”

***

I went for a snack and, when I came back, he was already sitting like before. I’m not proud of it, but I loved that hit so much: feeling his bulge in my fist, the soft texture of the balls against my knuckles, and then seeing him all curled up, moaning quietly. Only I still didn’t know whether he’d enjoyed it. When I sat down again, I glanced at his crotch and couldn’t believe it: he had a serious erection. In a brightly lit scene from the movie I caught the bulge, bigger than normal, straining the shorts, even showing the outline of the glans pressed against the waistband. My mouth went dry.

I looked away casually, but my heart was pounding and I felt my panties stick to my cunt, soaked. He’d enjoyed it. He’d gotten hard right after I’d smashed his balls. I felt strangely good, almost happy, and at the same time thought I shouldn’t.

“Feeling better now, little brother?”

“Yeah, you don’t hit that hard.”

“Oh, really? Maybe I should do it again,” I said, raising my fist threateningly.

“No, wait!”

“That’s what I thought.”

I got turned on knowing he feared me, even though every fiber of my body longed to drive my fist into that spot again, to feel his balls flatten under my fingers once more. I lay back down and put my feet back in his lap. During the jump scares I moved them on purpose, brushing him, feeling the hard bulge under the sole. I knew it was wrong, but I could no longer stop. Once, I felt it fully: at the climax of the movie I let one foot drop, as if by accident, onto his crotch, and felt something hard, stiff, throbbing under my toes. I pressed for a moment, barely anything, and felt his cock tighten against my sole. I didn’t want to be obvious, so I pulled my foot away. I already had what I wanted.

***

The movie ended. He got up.

“I choose the next one,” I said.

“Keep dreaming,” he answered, and tapped me on the head with his fist, like when we were kids.

I jumped up fast to stick my foot out and make him trip, but he noticed and, as our legs crossed, he yanked his back and I was the one who fell. He laughed at my failure. I got angry and threw myself onto his back, bouncing like crazy until both of us ended up on the floor.

“What’s wrong with you, crazy girl?” he asked.

“I won. You’re on the floor, so I choose.”

“We both fell. You didn’t win anything. And I haven’t given up.”

I was glad he played along. We struggled for a while, my tits pressed against his back, with the hot air, our hands finding each other without saying it. I knew he wasn’t using all his strength, but even so it was hard to keep him down. And then I had them right there, within reach, outlined against the stretched fabric, his balls and stiff cock forming a tight package under his shorts. I couldn’t resist.

“Don’t hate me for this, little brother. I want to choose the movie.”

I trapped him between my legs with my hand. I grabbed everything: the hard cock, the soft balls, the whole package clenched in my palm. He stopped moving at once, facedown, without saying a word, his whole body tense.

“Do you give up, or do I leave you childless?”

“That’s cheating.”

“It’s not cheating, it’s part of your body. Besides, you’re stronger, so we’re even,” I said without letting go, closing my fingers a little, feeling his nuts shift inside the sack.

Still breathless from the fight, with adrenaline surging, I started to calm down and realized how delicious it was to have him like that, subdued, feeling that the power was all mine and that he couldn’t do anything. I could feel them perfectly, like two soft balls in my palm, with the stiff shaft over them, throbbing, betraying him. I squeezed a little, just to see what would happen, to hear him suck in air through his teeth.

“Ah! It still hurts from the punch, don’t squeeze,” maybe I went too far, but I felt his cock jerk, hard, against the back of my hand.

“Still think I’m flat?”

“Umm... yeah?” I squeezed again, this time harder, rolling his balls between my fingers. “Ah! No, you’re not flat!”

“That’s more like it. Do you give up or do I turn them to mush?”

***

I couldn’t believe what was happening: my little sister had me pinned to the floor, my balls in her closed fist, as if several of my fantasies were materializing all at once. I didn’t want it to end ever, but I also didn’t want her to notice how much I was enjoying it, how much it turned me on to have her squeezing me there. Feeling her soft hands trapping me, with those red nails barely digging into the skin of my scrotum, was the most delicious thing in the world. Every time she closed her fingers, a stab of pain went through me that turned, two seconds later, into a lash of pleasure that shot through my cock from base to tip. Lying face down, with her on top of me, her weight on my back and her tits brushing me, gave me a strange calm that broke into sweet agony every time she closed her fist. She had me at her mercy. I was soaking the edge of her hand with the pre-cum leaking out of me, though she still hadn’t noticed.

She asked if I still thought she was flat, looking for me to take it back. Despite the pain, I wanted to feel her fist close again, so I said yes, expecting punishment. It didn’t take long: she squeezed so hard that within two seconds I corrected myself, my voice muffled. I was loving it, and my cock was fully hard, so hard it hurt against the floor. I prayed she wouldn’t notice the wet stain forming in my shorts.

“Do you give up or do I turn them to mush?”

“Umm, I’ll think about it...,” and as I said it, I knew I had sealed my fate.

“Suit yourself.”

I thought she’d squeeze again, but instead she let go, adjusted her hand, and yanked without squeezing, leaving me stretched out, my balls pulled away from my body, exposed, helpless under the fabric of my shorts. Then I felt her other arm lift off my back and, an instant later, her second fist slammed full force into my stretched balls. An immense, white pain shot up from my stomach to my throat. I twisted, tried to reach for her hands, but she kicked my arms away.

“Stay still, or I’ll squeeze again,” she said. “Do you give up now?”

“Ah, it hurts so much, Daniela, get off me!”

“I guess not. I’ll have to give you another one.”

“No! I give up!” I blurted immediately, even though part of me, the part already soaking the lining of my shorts, wanted to take one more hit.

At last she let me go and stood up.

“I won, little brother. Next time I choose.”

I stayed on the floor, curled up, my cock throbbing as much as my balls, and felt her foot rest on my hip in mockery, pressing just a little.

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” she said with cynicism. “I’m going to bed. I’ll let you know when I want to watch my movie.”

She bent down, kissed me on the cheek, so close to the lips that I felt her breath, and went up the stairs. Watching her leave, with that perky ass swaying under her shorts, was the cherry on top. I waited until her door closed before getting up; everything still hurt, I still had my own pre-cum and semen stuck inside my shorts, but my mind was burning and I had too much to remember.

***

I got back to my room in a really strange state. I felt connected to Andrés again and, at the same time, guilty. I had confirmed that it turned him on — I’d felt his cock hard against my hand while I squeezed his balls, there was no way to deny it — and even so I kept going. More than that: I liked it. Having him on the floor, in my power, feeling his erection throbbing between my fingers while I squeezed him, discovering that he stayed face down just so I wouldn’t see it. My own brother had gotten hard, and I’d loved it.

I knew it hadn’t been right and, even so, I would do it again. In fact, I’d do it right now. I locked my door, yanked off my shorts and panties. I was so wet I could feel the cool air between my thighs, my cunt burning, my lips swollen and slick. I glanced at myself in the mirror for a second: nipples erect, pushing against my blouse, my brown skin prickled. I took a small pink vibrator out of a little box hidden in the drawer, lay down on the bed, and covered myself with the comforter to muffle the noise.

I started by rubbing it over my blouse, over my nipples, turning it slowly until they got so hard they hurt. Then I moved the head down over my stomach, taking my time, until it barely brushed my clit. A shiver shot up my spine. When I placed it where it belonged, right over the swollen bud, with my cunt open and dripping onto the sheets, I was flooded with a huge, brutal pleasure, unlike any I’d felt before. I kept thinking about how I’d had him subdued just a short while earlier, the moan that escaped him when I drove my fist into him, the hard bulge growing against my palm.

I slid two fingers into my cunt while the vibrator kept working my clit. I was so wet they sank in to the knuckles without resistance, with a wet, obscene sound that made it even kinkier. I curled them, searching for that spot deep inside that makes me clamp my legs together, and started fucking myself with my fingers and the vibrator at the same time, panting into the pillow so nobody would hear.

Remembering that feeling of power, knowing he wanted me, imagining his erection after my punishment, his red face, his half-open mouth pressed against the floor so he wouldn’t moan, all of it turned me on even more. But what took me over the edge was an image I’d never had before: him sitting on the floor, naked, his stiff red cock pointing at his stomach, my foot barely stepping on his balls, and him kissing my legs with devotion, licking upward from my ankle to my thigh, begging me to let him cum. I imagined him licking my cunt while I squeezed his balls with my toes, punishing him every time he made me moan. I came thinking about that, with an intensity I’d never felt, biting the pillow, my cunt clamping around my fingers in waves so strong they shook my whole body. I came three times in a row, one after another, until I was soaked, trembling, with the sheets wet beneath my ass.

***

I was just about to finish. As soon as she closed the door, I went into my room, pulled down my shorts, and there it was: my cock so hard it hurt, red, the tip shining with fluid, the balls swollen and still throbbing from the punishment. I grabbed it with my right hand, squeezing the base, and started pumping slowly, savoring every inch, while with my left I touched my aching balls, playing with that mix of pleasure and pain she’d planted in me.

I relived every second: her feet in my lap, her fist against my balls, her laugh when I doubled over in pain, the way she grabbed the whole package during the fight, the heat of her palm closing over my balls. I sped up, breathing raggedly, biting my lip so I wouldn’t moan. I remembered how she had stretched my scrotum with her little hand before landing the second blow, the delicious humiliation of being face down, unable to defend myself, with my little sister deciding what to do with my balls.

When the moment came back to me, when she stretched me and landed the second punch, that white blast of pain that had already turned, in memory, into pure pleasure, the recollection made me finish all at once. My balls clenched, that wave rose from the base of my cock, and I let out the most violent load of my life, with the most brutal orgasm I had ever felt. I came in four, five, six thick spurts that reached my chin, my whole body shaking, biting the sheet so I wouldn’t shout, my cock throbbing in my fist long after I was done.

I don’t know if I’ll ever experience anything like it again, but one thing I’m sure of: for a good while, I won’t need anything else besides that memory.