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Message-ID: <49041asstr$1093853413@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 29 Aug 2004 16:28:18 -0500
From: "Bernard Sagon" <bernard-sagon@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Amanda, My Sibling - 05 of 15  - Chap. 3a (MF, rom, cons, rape, inc, oral)
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Date: Mon, 30 Aug 2004 04:10:13 -0400
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AMANDA, MY SIBLING - Chapter 3a (MF, rom, cons, rape, inc, oral).
By Bernard Sagon
Copyright (c) 2004 - all rights reserved.

================================================================
This is Part 1 of Chapter 3 of the sequel to my earlier
story "Sis On Tape".  As always, any comments and
criticism from those readers interested enough to write
will be greatly appreciated.  Please send any comments
to the newsgroup or directly to
bernard_sagon@hotmail.com - I will attempt to answer
all E-mail within a reasonable time frame.  Comments
posted to the newsgroups alt.sex.stories or
alt.sex.stories.d will be answered within the newsgroup
they are posted to.
================================================================
If you are unfamiliar with "Sis On Tape", the prequel to
this story, I highly recommend that you read it first.
Although "Amanda, My Sibling" has been written to stand on
its own merits (such as they are), this story and its
characters will be more understandable if you are familiar
with the earlier work.  I am reposting that story to the
newsgroups for your convenience.
================================================================
Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction and
contains sexually explicit adult material.  If you are not
an adult, do not wish to view such material, or if such
material is prohibited in your locality, you should exit
at this time.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
================================================================
This is a copyrighted work of fiction and the author
retains all rights to this story.  This story may be
freely copied and/or distributed for non-commercial use
or by archival services with this notice and any
applicable headers and footers attached, as required by
law.  This story may not be reproduced in any form for
profit without the express written permission of the
author.
================================================================
This story consists of a prologue, nine chapters, and an
epilogue.
================================================================


Chapter 3:

It wasn't very long after that birthday that things
between my sister and I began to get complicated.
Nothing bad happened - it wasn't like Mom and Dad caught
us screwing each other or anything like that.  In fact,
the sex between us continued on a regular basis and left
both of us completely satisfied.  But the relationship
between us changed in subtle ways.  Amanda began telling
me things - things that she had kept hidden deep inside
herself.  These were things that I would never have
guessed about her.  I had always looked on her as being
in control of her life - of being the self-confident
type - so it shocked me when she told me how full of
self-doubt she sometimes felt.  After all, she was
extremely attractive, highly intelligent and had always
been our parent's favorite.  You would think she had it
made - and you would have been wrong in your conclusions.

"Sometimes I just feel so down on myself," she had said.

"I don't understand," I told her.  "You've always had
lots of friends.  Hell, you practically had to beat the
boys off with a stick."

"You're right," she responded.  "You really DON'T
understand.  I've never had that many friends - not real
friends.  Not people I could confide in or trust
implicitly.  I was part of the high school elite
because I've been blessed with good looks, had a
bitchin' car, and my father would indulge my whims
and hand me money whenever I asked.  Every one of the
girls I hung with was exactly the same.  We had looks,
money, and cars.  That's what everyone cared about.
In fact, that's ALL anyone cared about.  No one really
cared about us.  Hell, we didn't even care about each
other.  We just wanted to be seen with the 'right'
people - the 'right' crowd."

"But you still had friends, didn't you?"

"Not really.  Half of the girls I hung with were the most
moronic airheads you could imagine.  I didn't have that
much in common with them.  But I stuck with them.  I was
trapped - I couldn't find any way out."

"Trapped?" I responded.  "What do you mean 'trapped'?"

"I mean I was part of the elite.  God forbid that I should
violate the boundaries of the group."  She looked at me
sadly.  "Do you remember Cindy Hartwell?"

I had to search my memory banks a bit for that name.
Cindy Hartwell?  She had been in the same graduating class
as Amanda and several years ahead of me.  I was finally
able to lock onto a mental image of her.

"Oh yeah, I know who she is.  Kinda nerdy, mousy brown
hair.  Real smart though.  Isn't she the one that got that
Fulbright Scholarship?"

"That was her.  I used to listen to her talking to her
friends.  She was so smart!  There wasn't anything she
couldn't discuss.  I so wanted her to be my friend."


"Really?" I asked, intrigued by this revelation.
"So why didn't you just tell her?"

"Are you kidding?  I couldn't do that.  She wasn't part
of OUR crowd.  Remember looks, money, and cars are what
counted.  Cindy came up short across the board.  She was
still riding the school bus her senior year."

This statement staggered me.  I had never thought of my
sister as being petty.  "You've got to be kidding.
I know you better than that.  That's not the way you
think."

"No, it's not," she agreed.  "Which is why I wish now
that I had approached her."

"So why didn't you?"

"Peer pressure," she responded.  "Cindy wasn't ugly, but
she was hardly drop-dead gorgeous either.  Even worse, she
didn't have THINGS.  Her mother's a widow and has to work
to support her kids.  There are seven of them in that
family, Ken - the mother and six children.  Being a
working mother who is the sole support for six children
just doesn't leave much for more than the bare
necessities."

"You seem to know a lot about Cindy Hartwell and her
family," I observed.

Amanda shrugged.  "I read about her when she got her
scholarship.  There was a big write-up in our local paper.
And there were other things.  I used to see her counting
her money in the lunch line like there might not be enough
to last the week.  Sometimes I would hear things being
whispered about her - snide little remarks like 'Aren't
you glad you don't have to get by on her bank account?'
Those kinds of things.  Things I listened to and that I'm
ashamed to say I never said anything about."

"More peer pressure?"

"I'm afraid so.  You know how it is."

Unfortunately, I knew exactly "how it is".  There is
probably no crueler, closed minded, clique-ridden society
in this world than your local high school.  Everybody
looks down on everyone else who's not part of their group,
and God help anyone who isn't part of SOME group.  The
loners are lower than dirt - the lowest of the low.  Even
the heavy dopers rank higher.  And it doesn't matter if
your sense of superiority isn't based on merit - on some
accomplishment of your own.  Indeed, the ones who feel
most superior are those who haven't done anything but who
have merely been lucky - the ones born into money and/or
privilege.  I couldn't condemn my sister for acting the
way she had.  I was still a high school student myself.
I had acted exactly the same way on more than one
occasion, and I probably would do so again.

"I know," I assured her.  "I've been there myself."

"Pretty shallow, huh?  I wish I had cared less back then
what other people thought.  I was so happy for Cindy when
she got her Fulbright.  She had worked so hard for it.
But of course I never told her.  The elite can't bother
to communicate with the rabble, you know," she said
sarcastically.  Then, the sadness showing in her eyes,
she continued, "I should have told her."

"But you were 'trapped'," I offered.

"Right," she agreed.  "I was part of the elite group.
I might not like or even be able to stand half of my
companions, but I belonged.  It would have been a real
risk to step outside the group.  Or so I thought back
then."

"And you don't think that way any more?" I inquired.

"I'm trying to change, Kenneth.  I really am.  I'd like
to think that maybe I'm starting to grow up. Part of it
is being in college.  I'm suddenly an outsider there.
Here in grade school and high school everyone knew me and
I knew every else.  In college I'm just another student.
People judge you a lot different there.  You've got to
give other people a reason to like you."

"I'm sure you're doing fine.  You've never had problems
getting people to like you in the past."

"I hope so." Amanda replied seriously.  "It hasn't been
easy getting other people to like me for myself."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You'd be surprised.  It's so hard to find real friends.
The kind of friends that Cindy has."

"So why don't you look Cindy up if you admire her so
much?  I'm sure you could do it."

"I'm afraid it's too late now.  What has she got in common
with me?  I should have taken my shot at it when I had the
chance."

"Well, never say never," I responded, trying to brighten
up her dark mood.  "Who knows?  Maybe you'll get another
chance.  I'm sure Cindy would like you if she ever got to
know the real you.  You're really a very special person,
Amanda."

My sister looked at me skeptically.  "You're just saying
that because we're screwing each other."

"Not true," I protested.  "You were a special person to me
long before we became lovers."

"That's nice of you to say, but if you really liked me as
much back then as you claim you did you sure had a funny
way of showing it," my sister admonished me.

I had to admit she was right in her observation.  "We
were in our sibling pissing-match mode at the time,"
I responded defensively.  "And I don't exactly remember
you treating me like Prince Charming back then either."

"Point taken," my sister capitulated.  "I couldn't let on
that I had any positive feelings toward you.  We didn't
have that kind of relationship."

"I know.  But I did love you, even if I didn't say
anything."

"So I've learned," she affirmed, her mood brightening.
She leaned into me, kissing me softly, the brushing of
her lips on mine offering a promise that would be redeemed
some time in the future when our parents weren't in the
house.

I returned the kiss in the spirit in which it was offered,
happy that my sister's dark mood had passed.

And I really did enjoy the later redemption of her kiss's
promise.

****************************************************************

But not all of Amanda's secrets were as easily dismissed.
Some of them were of a darker nature.

It had been spring break at her college - semester break
at my high school - and so, after both our parents had
left for work and Amanda knew we had the house to
ourselves for the day, she had surprised me from my sleep
by slipping naked into my narrow bed.  She was soon riding
my morning hard-on, providing me with a very nice orgasm
(and herself with two) to greet the new day.  Afterwards
we began to talk, me laying on the rumpled sheets of my
bed and relaxing in the post-coital warmth I felt while
my sister donned my robe and sat at the foot of my bed.

"That felt sooooo good," my sister cooed.  "You've become
quit a cocksman since I started tutoring you."

"How can you say that?" I inquired with amusement.
"You did all the work."

"No, I mean it, Kenneth.  You're a great lover.  You're
soft and gentle with me.  You don't just see me as two
tits and a wet pussy.  You love me enough to care about
my pleasure as much as your own."  She sighed, "I wish I
had been with someone like you the first time I had sex."

"Oh?" I responded, intrigued.  "Your first time wasn't
that good?"

"It was awful!" she affirmed.  "How about you?  How was
your first time?"

I gave her a sly little smile.  "Okay, I guess.  The
heavens didn't open and fireworks didn't go off, but
I enjoyed it."

"So who was the lucky girl?" she continued, pressing for
an answer.

"Amanda, I'm not sure I should tell you.  You know I don't
talk about the girls I've slept with."

"That's only because you don't want to get a reputation as
a blabbermouth," my sister wisely observed.  "You'd rather
maintain the option of getting laid again in the future."

I had to admit she was right.  "True enough.  Still, I'm
not comfortable discussing who I have had sex with.  It
just doesn't seem the proper thing to do."

My sister gave me a very skeptical look.  "Not even with
me?  And don't try pulling that 'proper thing to do'
routine.  Not after you've been fucking me - your sister -
for months now."  Amanda continued to cajole me, "Besides,
I'm not asking for your whole little black book.
I'm only asking who the first one was."

Becoming convinced that continued resistance to her
probing would be futile, I surrendered.  "All right,
you win.  My first was Sandy Morris."

"Sandy Morris?" my sister repeated, amazed.  "Seems to me
that I remember she had quite a reputation.  Wasn't she
known as one of the school sluts?"

"What can I say?" I replied, blushing.  "I was barely
sixteen at the time and horny as hell.  Sandy was known
to be ready, willing, and able.  And she knew the rules -
I wasn't looking for a relationship and I didn't want a
girlfriend.  I just wanted to get laid."

Amanda looked at me with reproach.  "That's not exactly
the most inspiring story I've ever heard," she admonished
me.

"Sorry.  I wasn't thinking at the time - at least not with
my brain.  Another part of my anatomy was making the
decisions."

My sister gave me a sour look.  "That's disgusting,
Kenneth.  I had hoped for better from you."

"Well, you live and learn.  I'm not like that now.  Or at
least I try not to be."

"I should hope not," she agreed.  Still, my sister's
curiosity had not been satisfied.  "So your first time was
with one of the school sluts?"

"Afraid so," I acknowledged.

My sister insisted on pressing the issue.  "So how was
she?"

I sighed.  It seemed that my sister wasn't going to be
satisfied until I had given her all of the lurid details.

"Actually, she was great about the whole thing.  I only
lasted about sixty seconds that first time.  She pretended
I had done fine.  Then she had us do it again - a bit more
successfully.  I managed to make her cum.  That was a
hell of a boost for my ego."

"Ah, a woman of the world," Amanda observed with insight.
"She knew how to make you feel good."

"That she did," I had to agree.  "We went out several more
times after that before I had to drop her."

"Oh?" my sister inquired, awaiting an explanation.

"I started getting questions from the other guys.  I wasn't
following the rules.  It was okay for me to go out with a
girl like Sandy if all I wanted was a quick roll in the
hay, but I wasn't supposed to actually start to like her.
They started teasing me about it, declaring how 'Sandy had
finally managed to capture some dumb sap with her wet
pussy'.  And yes, that's exactly how crudely they put it.

I felt totally intimidated.  It wasn't long before I told
Sandy I couldn't see her anymore."

My sister looked at me disapprovingly.  "That wasn't very
kind, Ken."

"If it makes you feel any better, I felt guilty about it
afterwards," I replied defensively.  "Sandy wasn't a bad
person, even if her reputation was down the toilet.
I learned a lot from that experience.  Since Sandy, I've
never had sex with any other girl where I felt that I was
just using her."

My sister looked at me skeptically.  "That's very noble of
you," she replied sarcastically.

I continued explaining. "Look, I'm not talking about being
in love with each of them, but I've always tried to look
at every girl I've slept with as a person.  You remember
how you said I see you as more than two tits and a wet
pussy?  Sandy taught me that.  I learned from my
experiences with her.  Although the situation has always
been much different in your case.  I love you, Amanda."

I could see my sister soften at that admission.  "I know,
Little Brother.  I love you too."

"Anyway, that was the story of my first time."
I continued, "So now it's your turn.  Who was your
first?  Or do I even need to ask?"

Amanda shot me a dirty look, and then admitted, "If you
mean Rick Heeley, you're right.  He was the first."

I remembered Rick Heeley, the son of the chief-of-police
in our small city.  He had been the star of our high
school football team despite his only being a junior, and
at that point had been chosen as one of only two All-State
pass receivers.  I had seen him on the playing field.
His hands were magic, able to pull any football out of the
air that he managed to touch.  And God, could he ever run.
Even on those rare occasions that the other team caught up
with him, it usually took two, and sometimes ever three
tacklers to bring him down.  At six foot four inches tall
and two hundred thirty pounds of solid muscle, he was an
impressive physical specimen and had already attracted the
eye of several college recruiters, even though it would be
almost another year before they could approach him.

Rick and Amanda had dated for a short period of time
during their junior year of high school.  Amanda had been
a cheerleader and he had been attracted by her good looks,
as had she been by his, but something had gone seriously
wrong between them.  They had suddenly stopped going
together - I had never learned why.  Amanda had never
talked about it.

"I take it your first time wasn't all you had expected
it to be?"

"You could say that," she confirmed.  "Rick and I had been
going out a couple weeks, and he had always been a perfect
gentleman before that night.  He had made two touchdowns
that day and our team had made the playoffs, so everyone
was in a party mood, and the coaches had subtly let it be
known that violations of the team's "no drinking" rule
would be overlooked as long as everyone was discreet about
it.  It was a classic case of 'don't look - don't tell'.
We all ended up going to a beer bash at one of the
player's homes and Rick and I both got pretty wasted.
Anyway, he dragged me out of the party about eleven
o'clock, and we ended up out at Mathew's Lookout."

Ah yes, I thought to myself.  Mathew's Lookout.  The local
make-out spot.  I'd taken a few girls there myself.

"All sounds pretty routine to me," I commented.

"That's what I thought too, but I was wrong.  We started
kissing, but he kept trying to push his tongue into my
mouth.  I tried to pull away, but he had a handful of my
hair in his fist and kept pushing my face into his."
My sister's voice became barely a whisper.  "Then he
started pawing me.  He had one hand in my hair and the
other one all over my breasts.  I tried to push him away.
It was like pushing on a brick wall.  I couldn't budge
him.  I told him to stop.  I told him I didn't want to do
this.  I begged him."  Tears were flowing from my sister's
eyes as she relived the memory.  Then she continued
relating the horror.  "Do you know what he told me, Ken?
Can you guess what he said?"

I didn't know how to respond.  "No, I can't."

"He used my hair to pull my face away from his and said
'What's the matter? Don't you like me?'  Then he
threatened me.  He said, 'I don't like cockteasers.
You're not one of them, are you?  You got a nice mouth -
a real nice mouth.  I've been thinking how nice it would
be to have those lips of yours wrapped around my dick.
Wouldn't that be nice?'.

I was appalled he would say something like that.  I asked
him not to make me do that.  I told him someone might come
along.  That one of the cops that patrolled the area might
see us.  He laughed at me, Ken.  Laughed in my face.  He
told me that all the cops in town knew his car.  That he
was a football hero and that the chief-of-police was his
father.  He told me how none of the cops were going to
hassle him or place him in a potentially embarrassing
situation."

I listened, shocked at the tale my sister was relating.
I also believed every word that she was saying.  I could
remember the vehicle in question. I had admired it the few
times that it had sat in our driveway.  It had been a
fire-engine red Shelby Mustang convertible.  And looking
back I could remember seeing it about town and noticing
how often it had been illegally parked - even double
parked - and how it had never seemed to ever have a
traffic ticket on it.  After all, what cop in his right
mind would ticket the car belonging to the chief's son?
I could see how that mindset could be extended to the cops
looking the other way - or not looking at all - at other
"indiscretions".

"Jesus!" I whispered, overwhelmed by my sister's
revelation.  "Did anything else happen?"

"Everything else happened!" she responded, the tears
welling up in her eyes.  "He told me to 'get his prick
free and to get to work on it'."  Amanda stared at me,
reliving the moment, then confessed, "I did it, Ken.
I was scared to death.  I though he would beat the shit
out of me if I tried to resist.  I didn't want to, but
I did what he told me to - I gave him his damn blowjob.
I tried just sucking the head of his dick, but that wasn't
enough for him.  He tightened up on that fistful of my
hair he was holding and pushed my face all the way down
into his crotch.  I started to gag.  I'd never gone down
on anyone like that.  I think I would have thrown up all
over him if I hadn't been so deadly afraid of what he
would do to me if I did.  He had his cock so far back into
my throat that I couldn't breath.  I though I was going to
pass out until he started jerking my head up and down on
his cock, masturbating himself with my mouth.  I was too
afraid - too in shock - to do anything to stop him.
Finally he pulled me off his dick.  He cursed me.  He said
I was the lamest cocksucker he had ever met.  Then he said
that I had better be a hell of a lot better with my pussy
than I was with my mouth.  He wanted me to fuck him.  No,
that's wrong.  He didn't WANT me to fuck him.  He DEMANDED
that I fuck him.  I begged him to let me go.  I told him
that I was a virgin.  I thought that maybe that would make
him stop."

I heard the trembling in my sister's voice as she related
her story.  "But it didn't?' I asked, already knowing the
answer.

"It just made him angry.  He asked me what kind of dumb-ass
did I think he was.  He told me that there was no way a
'girl like me' could still be a virgin.  Then he really
scared me - even more than he had before.  He grabbed me
by the throat and said - and this is an exact quote -
'I know you're lying to me.  I told you how I feel about
cockteasers, so unless you want to be real sorry you'll
get on your whoring back and fuck me.'  I was terrified.
I wasn't even worried any more that he might hurt me.
I was afraid he might KILL me if I didn't obey.  I let him
drag me out of the car.  He made me take my panties off
and then pushed me onto the ground.  I was sobbing when he
got between my legs.  He put my hand on his cock and told
me to 'put it in'.  I did what he wanted, so scared that
I wasn't even thinking about resisting.  I wasn't ready
for sex.  I had no lubrication.  When he pushed into me it
hurt like hell.  He just kept pushing until I felt
something rip inside me, and suddenly he was jammed in me
up to his balls.  Then he fucked me like a rutting pig
until he'd dumped his load inside me, and when he was
finished doing me, he got up, leaned on the fender of the
car and lit up a cigarette.  He just stood there and had
a smoke.  He didn't even help me get to my feet
afterwards.  I had to crawl around to find my panties, and
then staggered on my hands and knees until I could stand.
I was forced to lean against a tree to get dressed.
I eventually managed to get my panties halfway back up my
legs before I lost it.  I started crying uncontrollably.
I was a mess.  There was dirt and pine needles sticking to
my back and I had blood and cum running down my inner
thighs.  I needed help.  I begged Rick to help me clean
up.  It was totally humiliating.  After everything he had
done to me I was forced to ask him for assistance.  I told
him I couldn't go home looking like I did.  I think he was
a bit scared when he looked at me and realized I'd been
telling him the truth about being a virgin and when he saw
how bad I was.  He got me a box of Kleenex from the back
seat, which I used to clean myself up as best I could.
I shoved a wad of tissues into my panties to try to
contain the leakage from my vagina.  I asked him to take
me home.   And can you guess what he said then?"

****************************************************************

First half of Chapter 3 of "Amanda, My Sibling"

bernard_sagon@hotmail.com

Additional Bernard Sagon stories can be found at
storiesonline.net or the alt.sex.stories text
repository at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/

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