Friday Night Lessons

It was Friday night late in the spring semester. My mom and stepdad had gone out for dinner and a movie downtown. They said they would probably be late, maybe not even back until after midnight, or later if they stopped for drinks after. The house felt extra quiet once they left.

I stayed home trying to study for finals on Monday. Second year of community college. A bunch of accounting and psych classes that were kicking my ass. Textbooks spread all over the kitchen table, highlighter in one hand, notes that did not make much sense anymore no matter how many times I read them. The clock on the wall kept ticking. It was already past nine, and I had not even finished one chapter.

My stepbrother, Jake, who was eighteen, about to finish high school in a couple of weeks. Handsome as hell. Tall. Athletic from soccer and lifting. He switched girlfriends like it was nothing. A new one every month or so, always some pretty girl hanging around or texting him constantly.

We were always pretty relaxed about clothes around the house. He and his dad usually just wore shorts or boxers. They did not think twice about it. Mom and I were in sleeping T-shirts or those long night dresses that covered enough to sit or bend without flashing too much, even if we skipped underwear most nights. Their shorts did not hide much at all. Both of them were well hung, and I think they kind of liked showing it by accident sometimes. I had seen it on countless occasions: slipping out of a towel after a shower, or them changing clothes without even turning away in front of Mom or me. Just how it was.

Stepdad was sexually demanding with Mom. They had sex pretty much every night. I could hear the bed sometimes through the wall, her moaning, him talking dirty. Jake was the same. Often I heard his girlfriend having orgasms in his room, loud ones that went on for a while. I was not so active myself. Not very experienced. I masturbated every day, sometimes twice, but I was not dating anyone steady. That changed fast that night when he decided to finish my sexual education.

Around ten, I heard the TV in the living room. He was watching a movie and asked if I wanted to take a break and join him.

“I am tired of staring at the same pages,” I said. “Head hurts. Need a break anyway.”

We grabbed a couple of cold beers from the fridge. I sat on the couch next to him, not too close at first.

The movie was Eyes Wide Shut. Weird as hell. Disturbingly erotic with all those masked parties, the orgy scenes, Nicole Kidman talking about her fantasies and how she almost cheated. We watched together for a good while, commenting here and there on the scenes.

“That party scene is intense,” he said.

“Kind of creepy,” I said. “But also hot in a messed-up way.”

Time passed. We finished the first beers. He got two more. The house was dark except for the TV glow.

He was sitting in his usual gray shorts. Already a noticeable bulge starting to form.

“You are getting big,” I said for fun.

He just smiled, but it kept growing as the movie went on, especially during the party scenes. He moved the shaft to the side after a bit, and soon the red head of his dick was out. Fat mushroom. Reddish-purple. Leaking a little already.

I was watching the movie but also looking at it more and more, slowly coming more and more out of his shorts. Large and massive. Thicker than I expected, even from the times I had glimpsed it before. He pulled the side of his shorts a bit further, and the full shaft stood up. No way we could both ignore it anymore. I was sitting right next to him now, eyes glued to it half the time.

“Come on, hide this monster,” I said, and smiled, trying to keep it light.

He smiled back.

“You do not like what you see, sister?”

“I like it. But why is it so large? Did you get hard because of the movie?”

“No. Because of you. You did not put underwear on and sat with your leg up, so you started it.”

I got ashamed. True. I had not realized I was flashing him my butt and pussy the whole time we sat there. I was not wearing underwear in my room and was completely used to it, but when I joined him on the couch I just sat relaxed and spread my legs without thinking, one foot up on the cushion. I looked down, and yes, all was on full display. I was already a little wet from the movie and the beer and looking at him. I did not pull my legs together or adjust. Just smiled back, heart beating faster.

“You are right. I caused this monster to wake up.”

“Now, sister, you need to put him to sleep. Go ahead.”

“Go ahead and do what?”

“Give me a nice handjob.”

“No. No way. You do it yourself.”

“Well, I can use your mouth or pussy too. Your choice.”

I felt weird but actually wanted to touch and play with that large thing. I had been thinking about it more than I should for months. I put my hand on it and started moving up and down. It was hot and hard, veins standing out.

He complained.

“Well, you do not do it well.”

He put his hand on mine to guide it the way he wanted on his shaft. Tighter grip. Twisting a little at the top. A minute or so of that when he said it did not work.

“Need more attention, sister.”

He put his hand on my hips, then down to my butt and pussy. I did not protest or move away. His fingers played with my lips quite well, sliding in a bit, finding I was already soaked.

Then he pulled me up and rotated me so my head was next to his dick and his head between my thighs. He did not even wait for an invitation and dove in to eat my pussy. It was amazing. Better than anything I did to myself. I had a quick orgasm pretty fast, but he kept licking and sucking my clit, two fingers inside now.

I put his head close to my mouth, but it was too big to fit in much. Just that giant red mushroom. I sucked the top intensely like juice from a straw, but there was no juice yet, just that salty taste.

He in the meantime was doing miracles with my pussy and I had spasms and shaking going through my whole body, grabbing the couch. His dick stayed as hard or even harder than at the beginning.

After a while he moved my butt up, turned me on the couch so I was on my back, spread my legs wide and put his giant inside me without much warning. Painful at first. Rough stretch. It felt like he was going to break me or puncture something. I gasped loudly, but the pain slowly decreased as he stayed still a second, then started moving, and pleasure took over. He was not slow or gentle. Rough and fast from the start, riding faster and faster, the couch creaking, until he stopped deep inside and made a few pulses deeper without pulling out, then finally got it out. It sounded like champagne opening, like a cork out of an old bottle.

He lay down on the floor after, breathing hard, shiny from fluids and semen. I knew he came inside me. I felt it.

The thought of being pregnant flushed through me for a second. I stood up shaky, looked down, fluid going out of me slowly, running down my thigh. He must have put plenty of sperm there, or maybe it was just how wet I was mixed with it.

“Did you come inside me?” I asked. “Are you crazy? I am your sister.”

He stood up, pushed me back on the couch, and started eating my pussy again right away.

“I will eat it out, sister.”

Gross moment. He was eating me and his own sperm coming out, so he was basically swallowing it, mixing it with my stuff. Another wave of orgasms kept my mind dizzy, like I was on another planet, legs shaking, until I felt it again after a few minutes, his dick hard already and entering me once more.

This time slower and more gentle at first, taking time to go deep and pull out almost all the way, in and out, slow and steady. I was climbing toward the largest orgasm ever, and now I was getting comfortable with his size. I actually enjoyed that thick pole stretching me. The orgasm was amazing. Almost lost consciousness, seeing spots, but he kept going in and out without stopping. I was wasted and hoping he would finish soon, but he was still at it, talking a little, saying how good I felt.

“You need to be done,” I said.

He sped up then, pounding fast and deep, the sound wet and loud, then slowed and came again hard, left all his sperm inside me that night, pulsing.

We stayed like that a bit, him still in me, both breathing heavy, the movie still playing in the background forgotten. Then he pulled out, and we just sat there a while, messy, not saying much at first.

I did not get pregnant from that night. I started using pills because whenever we were home alone, we started having sex on Friday nights after that, almost every time parents were out. We made a mess in the living room, his sperm on the couch and anywhere I sat later since it kept dripping out of me for a while. Now we have a deal: we clean together afterward, so Friday nights are also cleaning nights, wiping the couch and floor, sometimes the rug.

He still had girlfriends, and I started dating too after a while, but Fridays stayed our routine of watching a “movie” together. I learned a lot from those nights: how to take it, how to move, what felt good. My boyfriends later enjoyed what I did with them, but they should thank my brother for those long training sessions on Fridays, if they only knew.

The teasing started earlier the next Friday. Parents left around seven this time. Jake came into the kitchen while I was still at the table with my books. He was already in those same gray shorts. Nothing else.

“You studying again?” he said.

“Trying.”

He opened the fridge, grabbed two beers, and set one in front of me.

“Movie later?”

“Maybe.”

He did not leave. He leaned against the counter, drank, and watched me. After a minute he adjusted himself openly.

“You are staring,” I said.

“You are sitting with your legs open again.”

I looked down. Nightshirt had ridden up. I had not noticed.

“So?”

“So I am already hard.”

He pulled the waistband down enough that the head popped out. I did not look away this time.

“Come here,” he said.

I stood up. He took my hand and put it on him. I stroked him slowly while he drank his beer and talked about nothing. School. Soccer. His current girlfriend who was out of town. His voice stayed casual, but his dick got thicker in my hand.

“Use your mouth,” he said after a while.

I dropped to my knees on the kitchen tile and took the head in; it was salty already. I could only get a few inches before my jaw ached. He put a hand on the back of my head but did not force it. He just held me there while I sucked and used my hand on the rest. He let me do that for a long time, until my knees hurt and spit ran down my chin.

“Enough,” he said. “Living room.”

We watched more of the same movie. I sat closer this time. He had me suck him again during the orgy scenes, my head in his lap, one of his hands between my legs. When I came on his fingers, he pulled me up, bent me over the arm of the couch, and fucked me from behind until he came inside me again.

Later that night we showered together. He said we should because we were both sticky. The bathroom door stayed unlocked. With hot water, he soaped my breasts and between my legs, and I lathered his cock and balls. He got hard again under the spray. I sucked him standing in the shower until he came in my mouth. I swallowed most of it. Some ran down my chin and got washed away. Then he turned me to the wall, lifted one of my legs, and pushed inside me again. Slow this time because the floor was slippery. He came a second time against my back.

We started doing the shower after almost every Friday. Sometimes before the movie. Sometimes after. Sometimes both.

The parents walking in started a few weeks later.

One Friday they came home earlier than usual. We were on the couch. I was on top of him, riding slow, nightshirt still on, just bunched around my waist. The front door opened. Voices in the hall. Mom laughing at something Stepdad said.

Jake did not stop. He held my hips and kept moving me on him.

I froze for a second.

“Keep going,” he whispered.

Mom walked into the living room, saw us, and stopped. Stepdad came in behind her. They both looked. Then Mom turned her head toward the kitchen.

“We are making coffee,” she said. “You two want any?”

“No,” Jake said. His voice was almost normal.

They went into the kitchen. We heard the tap, the kettle, them talking about the movie they had seen. Jake kept fucking me, slower now, quieter. I came while they were ten feet away, biting my lip. He came a minute later, deep, and stayed inside me until we heard them go upstairs.

Another night he had me on the kitchen counter. I was sitting on the edge, legs open, him standing between them, thrusting. The garage door opened. We heard car doors; they were home.

He did not pull out.

Mom came in through the side door with grocery bags. She looked at us, at his shorts around his thighs, at my nightshirt pushed up, at where he was buried in me. She set the bags on the table.

“Your father is bringing the rest,” she said. She opened the fridge and started putting things away. Did not look at us again.

Jake kept moving. Short strokes so it was not obvious from the sound. Mom unpacked milk, eggs, bread. Stepdad came in with more bags, glanced over, then started helping her.

“How was the movie?” Stepdad asked.

“Fine,” Jake said.

They talked about traffic and the restaurant. Jake came inside me while Mom was putting ice cream in the freezer. He stayed in me until they left the kitchen. Then he pulled out, and we cleaned up together like usual.

It became part of it. Sometimes they walked through and pretended they saw nothing. Sometimes they spoke to us like we were just sitting there talking. We never stopped when they appeared. After a while I stopped being scared they would say something. They never did.

Fridays stayed our nights, with movies, beer, his cock in my mouth, then inside me. Showers after, cleaning the couch and the floor, and sometimes the kitchen counter. And, of course, our parents coming and going, and looking the other way.

I still dated other people. He still had girlfriends. But those Friday nights belonged to us, and everyone in the house seemed to know it.