unusual objects

After multiple requests, both as private messages and comments, I’ve added to this story. I hope you enjoy!



*



The empty wine bottle, cucumber, and Monica’s pom-poms laid on the table in the family room along with several tapered candles, a hairbrush, a handheld mirror and the sort of brush one uses to brush dirt into a dustpan. In one video or another, I had seen Monica using one or more of those things in her pussy or up her ass; in some cases, in both places. Abandoning my computer gaming, I sat in my t-shirt and shorts, staring at the TV without watching it. I couldn’t. My mind was spinning as fast as 10,000 rpm hard drive doing a full erase. I kept looking at Monica’s last text message, When we get home, I want you to prove it to her. Please? Her request was over the top; but what threw me most was her last word: please. When had Monica ever said please to me without it being sarcastic?



Two years and a few months separated our ages and I could remember how my time in the spotlight had faded as soon as she came along. As a kid, Monica had had bright red hair. It had faded to a softer reddish blonde that she color corrected to full blonde. It would be easy to blame her red hair when we were kids, but later? I don’t know. I remember sitting at home writing computer code while our parents took Monica to dance lessons, voice lessons, piano lessons, cheerleading practice, cheerleading camp, cheerleading this and fucking cheerleading that. I was ignored and left to become a computer geek. During my senior year in high school, I took a mandatory gym class, learned the magic of working out and never stopped. Monica was a tight-bodied cheerleader with curves in all the right places. Being from the same stock as her, my body reacted quickly to working out. With little effort, I maintain good definition and a washboard stomach. The change by the end of my senior year had been dramatic and I could still remember her cheerleader friends noticing the “new” me and Monica dismissing me as “He’s a nerd.” But years of being a nerd makes me a thinker, too.



I was missing something, but what? I thought about how fast she rolled over. Her tears had felt as real as her fake tan. I had seen her deploy her manipulative tears in the past. Those might work on Mom, Dad or teachers at school, but not on her dear older brother. I knew better. Monica was a user, plain and simple. In the moment, her compliance had felt right to me. It was easy guessing she was scared, that she believed I would blackmail her. Making her suck my dick had been fun. It had felt so good seeing her on her knees in front of me with her luscious lips wrapped around my big, hard prick. Making her clean the garage like a slut had been fun, too, but not as much fun as taking her anal cherry. My mind stopped racing. It had been too easy.



All of it had been too easy, but especially the last part when I fucked her up the ass. She had given in too easily. It was how easily she had taken my dick. I had seen her videos. I had seen her shoving a fat cucumber up her butthole. My dick is big, but it’s not cucumber big. And she came when I fucked her ass. What was up with that? My mind began spinning again. Why would tell Carrie I was blackmailing her? And why would she want me to prove it to Carrie?



I thought about Carrie, Monica’s friend and former cheerleader. Without Monica’s skill, Carrie had been left behind. She attended the local community college and still worked in the mall. Small and petite, Carrie had been one of the cheerleading squad’s “flyers.” She was a former gymnast, as flexible as a Chinese acrobat in a circus and able to do back-flips, front flips and handstands. She had kept her dark red hair short, I guess to keep it out of the way. Since high school, she had allowed her hair to grow out. Her hair was straight, shoulder length and with so many different highlights and lowlights, I had no idea which shade of red was her natural color. She was shorter than Monica and the top of her head didn’t reach as high as my shoulder. I still remembered the shy, demure smiles she used to give me. Out of all of Carrie’s cheerleading friends, I always liked Carrie the best. Her big tits swaying during her flying routines had always brought cheers from the crowd.



I glanced at the clock. It was close to ten and they would be home soon. Monica’s toys sat on the table and one of the DVDs I had made was still inside the DVD player. I thought about pressing “play” and surprising Monica, but didn’t. I wanted to test the waters before making a commitment. I heard the front door and their feet on the stairs leading the bedrooms. “Hey!” I called out. “Come here!”



The two girls came into the family room side-by-side. I smiled at Carrie and she smiled back, though her smile looked tentative. “How’s it going?” she asked, her eyes looking at the array of things sitting on the coffee table.



“Good! It’s been a while, how’s work?” I asked, giving her a genuinely friendly smile. Like I said, I liked Carrie. Though I was asking Carrie a question, my eyes were on my sister. Monica rolled her eyes as if in the presence of the world’s biggest doofus. “Problem?” I asked my sister.



“No,” she said, poking her perky nose in the air and looking away from me as if it pained her to acknowledge me.



“Did you mean what you wrote in that text to me?” I asked. That got her attention. She gave me the same glare I had seen earlier; tiny slits that should have lasers shooting from them. Next to her, Carrie squirmed. She glanced at me and gave my sister a glance, too, before her eyes went back to the strange array of things sitting on the coffee table. I turned my attention to the cute burgundy red head. “Did Monica tell you I was blackmailing her?”



“She said you were doing something,” Carried mumbled. She put her hands on her hips and back to her sides before deciding to fold them across her chest, right below her big tits.



“Like what?” I asked, amused and watching Monica’s reaction. She was staring off to her right again as if she were too good to entertain my presence with a direct look. She had one hand on her cocked hip, as if this was much too boring for her to bear.



“I don’t know, just stuff. Like how she was dressed when I showed up,” Carrie offered.



“So, what am I blackmailing her about?”



“I don’t know. I guess you found some pictures of her doing stuff or something.”



“Movies,” I corrected.



“Yeah, okay,” Carrie agreed.



“You want to see one?” I asked. Monica’s wide-eyed look of panic made me smile. That got her attention.



“I don’t know,” Carrie said, giving her friend a sideways glance. “I don’t think so.” It was a diplomatic answer and I respected her for giving it. She kept staring at Monica, “They’re really bad, aren’t they?”



“They’re nasty,” Monica admitted. “Private stuff that snoopy-snoop should never have seen.” Her wide-eyed look shifted back to disdain.



I waited until Carrie looked at me again before dropping a big bomb on her. “Ever fuck yourself up the ass with a cucumber?” I asked.



“What?!” Carrie reacted. Her mouth gaped open in shock as she glanced at the table, saw the vegetable laying there and shook her head in disbelief. “No!”



“Yeah, that’s really big,” I admitted. “What about one of your pom-poms? Surely you’ve gotten it on with one of those, right?” Carrie shook her head. Poor thing, she looked speechless. “Maybe with a hairbrush handle or a couple candles. You know, two or three for the front side and one more for the backside?” Carrie turned Monica as she began to understand why those particular things were sitting on our coffee table. I pressed my advantage. “Surely you’ve made a jerk-off video for your boyfriend or girlfriend.”



“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said. She shot me a quick smile, “Or a girlfriend.” She looked again at Monica with appraising eyes, as if being told Monica was actually a Muppet and if she stared at her just right, she could see the person controlling her. “Did you really do all those things?”



“Maybe. Some of them,” Monica said, trying to spin the truth into something different. “For a friend. A special friend.”



“Uh-huh,” I said, my voice dripping sarcasm. While I was sure there was a reason for her videos, I guessed they weren’t for a special friend. “Would you like to see for yourself?” I asked Carrie, picking up the remote and enjoying the way Monica shook her head and mouthed the word “no!” to me. She was too slow. I had already pressed the button and the TV instantly changed from one video source to the new one. We were transported to Monica’s dorm room where she was in the middle of a performance. She had two candles shoved inside her pussy while a third one bobbed from her asshole. She smiled at her webcam, asking her viewer, “Where should I put this one?” She slipped it alongside the two in her pussy and picked up a fifth one.



“Oh-my-God!” Carrie squealed.



“Turn it off! Turn it off now!” Monica shouted at me. She made a play for the remote but there was no way she could get it from me. Meanwhile, her onscreen version said, “Don’t be disappointed. I still have one more candle.” She nestled it against the candle in her ass. “Turn it off, you bastard!” she shrieked, lashing out at me. I grabbed her hands, capturing both her wrists in one of my bigger hands and stopped her attack. I held them and glared at her until she stopped struggling. Glancing past her, I looked at Carrie. The pretty, petite redhead with the big tits couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. I don’t blame her. Onscreen Monica was working her made-do toys and moaning with joy.



“Now one of your friends know,” I hissed at Monica. “Whose next?”



“Please,” she begged, dropping to her knees next to the easy chair where I sat. “Don’t.”



Carrie tilted her head to one side like a dog hearing a curious sound. Her shocked and surprised expression replaced with a tiny smirk. “Sad, isn’t it?” she asked. “Someone does something they shouldn’t, the wrong person finds out and suddenly it’s our fault for knowing.”



“Shut up,” Monica shot at her, looking betrayed.



“Or what?” Carrie asked. She moved farther inside the family room, propping herself against the arched opening to the big room.



“Or I’ll tell him why you drive a Mustang.”



“My daddy is a bad man,” Carrie told me, smiling. “I caught some of it on video. Then I got a Mustang.”



“You’re lying,” I said as my head tried to wrap itself around her confession.



“No way you’ll ever know for sure,” Carrie said with a shrug so casual I was forced to reconsider my words. “But there’s probably a reason why I like dating older men.”



“How much did Monica tell you?”



“You made her suck you off.”



“And?”



Carrie’s eyes went wide again as her gaze moved to Monica. “There was more?”



“Tell her,” I commanded Monica.



“No,” she said, her voice weak and pleading as she looked up at me with tears I didn’t believe.



“I took her anal cherry,” I revealed.



“Not hardly,” Carrie giggled, nodding at the TV.



“Yeah, well, she said I was her first dick back there.”



“Maybe,” Carrie agreed before asking the most important question: “So now what?”



“I’m going to tell your mom,” Monica said. Carrie’s face lost her smile.



“No she won’t,” I assured Carrie. “Promise.”



Carrie’s smile returned, at least for me it did. “You know your sister’s a first class bitch, right?”



“She’s always been one to me.”



“No, I mean it. She was a bitch to the entire squad. No one ever liked her. You should have heard the things they said behind her back.”



“You’re jealous because I got a scholarship and you didn’t,” Monica growled.



“Not really, you deserved your scholarship, but you’re still a bitch.”



“Then why are you my friend?”



“Because…” Carrie started and stopped. She blushed a bit and gave me a nervous glance. “Just because.”



Cheerleaders were lots of things in our old high school. Being a cheerleader meant being part of a very exclusive social club with benefits unavailable to other girls. Cheerleaders were never sluts. They dated the finest of the high school athletes and were each destined to marry well. Being hot looking and better than everyone else was just the beginning. Straight as an arrow was the final rule. There had been a cheerleader during my senior year, I didn’t know her personally, but the story goes that she wrote in an online journal that she could be bisexual. It had brought an end to her high school cheerleading career and by her senior year, she was attending a different school. The cheerleaders were a brutal clique. The way Carrie looked at Monica made me think of that old adage: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.



Onscreen Monica moaned loudly, attracting our attention as she jerked with an orgasm. If it wasn’t a real orgasm, it was damn convincing. “Damn girl,” Carrie said, giggling again and squirming as if she had enjoyed the show.



“You should see the one where she fists fucks herself,” I said. Seeing Carrie still staring at Monica, I gave my shorts a discrete tug. I was getting hard and needed the extra space. Carrie might have missed the quick adjustment, but my sister didn’t.



“Problem pervert?” Monica asked.



“Shut up or I’ll make you suck me off in front of your friend.”



“You wouldn’t dare,” Monica said, emphasizing each word.



“Do it,” Carrie suggested with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes.



“Shut up, bitch!” Monica said, turning on her friend.



Carrie glanced at me. I smiled and nodded my head. I had her back and if she wanted, I would have my sister’s backside in front of her. “Or what?”



It took Monica a moment to come up with an answer. “I can’t believe you,” she said with the appropriate amount of snotty cheerleader aghast. “You’d let him make me do that?”



“Why not? I bet you liked it,” the mahogany haired little woman said. She looked at me, asking, “Did you come in her mouth? She really likes that.”



“Oh really?” I asked, looking at my sister. Monica looked angry.



“Oh yeah. She loves to suck dick. She used to do it all the time. Remember her boyfriend, Brad?” Carrie asked. I nodded. “He used to complain how he thought she liked sucking better than fucking.”



“He did not!” Monica defended.



“He did to me,” her friend said with a shrug. “It was right after he fucked me. He fucked me a lot. I liked fucking him.”



“As much as you like fucking your dad?” Monica asked her.



“You fucked your dad?” I asked.



Carrie shrugged.



“She’s a fucking pervert like you,” Monica injected. She made another stab for the remote, snagged it and turned off the TV before the next scene had gotten to the good part. I didn’t care. “When did you fuck Bradley? After I left for college?” Monica demanded.



“Oh hell no. I was fucking him while you were dating him. You’d suck him off and then he’d hook up with me for some pussy.”



“Bullshit.”



“Want to call and ask him? He’s still looking for a hook-up.”



“You’re not still doing him?” I asked. I didn’t know Bradley. I had never paid attention to Monica’s boyfriends.



“I stopped doing him after Monica broke-up with him,” Carrie said, her big smile filling her face.



“Why? Was Daddy wearing you out?” Monica asked in that condescending tone of hers.



“No, I was only doing Brad because you were dating him. That made it more fun.”



“You bitch!”



“Probably,” Carrie said, pushing away from the wall. She moved to the couch, closest to the chair where I sat with Monica still kneeling alongside. Monica had moved the remote behind her, away from my reach. Noticing my hard-on made Carrie’s smile bigger. Reaching over the edge of the couch, she stroked Monica’s long, blonde hair. Monica pulled away as if Carrie’s touch hurt. Carrie looked back at my crotch before saying, “I won’t tell.”



I couldn’t hide my hard-on. Seeing Carrie admiring it gave it a reason to throb. I wasn’t sure if she could see it throbbing, but I felt it. I was in need and evaluating the pros and cons of doing it. Monica and I had crossed a line that day. Doing it in front of her friend would be crossing another line, was I willing to do that? Did I trust Carrie? Did it matter? Would anyone believe her if she told? Besides, who would be in more trouble, me or Monica? Probably me for making Monica do it, but fuck it. “Show me your tits and I’ll make her do it,” I told Carrie.



She studied me for a moment before making a counter offer. “Take off your shorts and I’ll take off my top.”



“No way. I’ll have to take off my shorts for her to do it. You take off your top, first.”



Carrie gave me another appraising look, nodded and pulled off her Polo style work shirt. She was wearing a flowery bra that hugged her big breasts. “You have to do something before I take off my bra.” I smiled. I liked her style.



“What if I make Monica get naked?” I offered.



“Me? Why? I don’t need to be naked to do anything.”



“I know, but why not?”



“Fuck you.”



“Careful,” I warned. I didn’t need to say more.



“I’ll take off my top like Carrie and nothing else,” Monica tried bargaining. She pulled off her t-shirt, revealing a lacy bra. I grabbed the front and pulled it over her tits. “Hey!”



“Hey what?” I asked, grabbing her tits. I pulled on one of her nipples. She winced, pulled away and gave up. She unsnapped her bra. Monica’s tanned tits looked good. Her nipples looked hard. There was a trapped, wild look in her pretty blue eyes. People said we had the same eyes. I don’t know; everyone in our family has blue eyes. “And your shorts.”



“No,” she said, protectively holding an arm across her chest and looking at Carrie.



When I stood up, Monica shrank away. I towered over her. I sat on the arm of the big easy chair and pushed off my shorts. I wasn’t wearing underwear. As my shorts reached my ankles, I heard Carrie softly whisper, “Yummy.” I shot her a happy smile.



“If you like it so much, why don’t you suck it?” Monica asked her.



“Because it’s going to be more fun seeing you do it.” Carrie reached between her breasts and undid the clasp. The cups sprang open and her big tits spilled forth. They were more impressive bare than supported by the engineering of her bra. Full, round and firm with enough sag proving they were all natural. Like my sister, Carrie had maintained a cheerleader’s all over tan. Her nipples were hard and deep red. Unlike Monica, Carrie didn’t try hiding her chest. She arched her back and her smile never faded as I admired them. Like every cheerleader, Carrie knew what she had and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. Cupping one of her breasts, she circled her index finger over and around its stiff nipple.



“You like her tits?” I asked my sister. Monica was staring as openly as me.



“I’m not gay.”



“Yet,” I said and Carrie giggled. When I looked at her, she bit back her smile, but the twinkle in her eyes suggested something more. Maybe Carrie… I couldn’t be sure. Again, cheerleaders at our former high school aren’t allowed to be bi-curious. I ignored the thought, more excited for relief of my immediate need. “Prove it,” I said, standing and waving my hard cock at Monica’s face.



Her trapped look remained as she glanced at my cock, Carrie and back at my cock. “I won’t tell,” Carrie reminded her.



“You better not,” Monica said and scooted closer. She opened her mouth and drew me inside. Unlike earlier, Monica used her hands this time. She cradled my balls in her left hand while stroking me with her right hand. I relaxed, stroking a stray lock of hair from her face. As before, it was thrilling to see my sister’s perfect oval face against my crotch. Being rude, I took a step backwards. Following my cock, Monica moved forward, too. She fell off the couch and to her knees.



Carrie was staring with a joyful look on her face. She held two handfuls of tit as her thumbs battled her hard nipples. I saw her squirm, as if squirming could give her pussy the attention it probably demanded. She looked up at me, caught me looking at her and smiled. “Shorts,” I told her, nodding at my sister. Carrie nodded, leaned over the edge of the couch and hooked her fingers inside the elastic of Monica’s shorts. With a single, swift, smooth move, Carrie pants’ed Monica, underwear and all.

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