Blackmail: Limit it to a handjob, and get it over with.
From Create Your Own Story
Being a young teenage girl is tough!
You lock the door, toss your shoes onto the bed, and stride over fast. "Okay, 'sultan,' let's get this over with." You sit beside him and get to work on his belt, the button of his jeans, his zipper. The truth is your fingers aren't used to this on boys' clothes, and you're a little clumsy about it, but you're determined. You get it open. Now there's just the jockey shorts with the hard bulge. "Get your butt up," you say. Obediently, with that same smart-aleck grin, he lifts his butt from the bed, and you slide his shorts down. Now his boycock is bouncing free.
It's not full-sized yet by any means, but it's way bigger than you remember from the last time you saw it. Which was four years ago when you stole his swimsuit at the beach and made him promise not to tell. Tentatively -- you haven't actually done this before -- you get your fingers around it and begin to squeeze.
"Ow!" he yelps. "Not so tight!" You loosen up a little and begin to slide up and down. You've got your own brother's dick in your hand, and you're trying to stroke him right, and really, that just seems the best way right now.
"Hey," he says. "Off with your bra!"
You shake your head. "Shut up," you say. "A handjob's all you're getting. So enjoy it."
He doesn't argue. If he calls Mom, he gets nothing. This way - well, he gets more than he's ever had from a girl. So he just whispers - "faster!" You set to work. On his instructions, sometimes you slide it loose up and down - and sometimes you grip harder and just pump that cock. Really, it isn't that bad looking...not that you've seen so many...and you may be mad as hell at him, but truth to tell, he's not so bad to look at himself. Judging by the way he's eyeballing your bra, where your nipples show through - he likes the look of you as well. His eyes are fixed on your breasts as he concentrates on the boiling lust in his loins.
A gasp of breath is your only warning - and then your right hand is covered in a gush of cum. Disgusted, you wipe it off quick on Ray's pants and bedsheet - and somehow, you don't think this'll be the first time he's washed that stuff off his sheets. Without a word, you reach over behind the bed to snag your clothes. The little perv actually cops a boob feel as you do - but you just pull back without slapping. You wouldn't care to explain the current setup to mom, not by a longshot you wouldn't.
"Thanks, sis!" says Ray.
"You're welcome," you reply, before you even think about what you're saying - no, he's not welcome! Dammit. It just slipped out. You get out and back to your room fast as you can.
Clothes in the washer, yourself in the shower - oh, yes, you need a cleaning! - supper, noncommittal talk, don't look at Ray, don't look at Ray, don't look at Ray, and then you're back up to your room - to hit the old books!
You're no math wiz, that's for sure, but this stuff really isn't that hard after the first half hour. In fact, by the time you're too tired you've done the "completing the square" drills and enough exercises to make your head spin...but you can see you're going to make it. Maybe one more night and you'll have it, and be out of T's power! Maybe this math crap's a lot easier than it looks!
The next day, Mr. Jones hands out the tests, and you blush brightly at your own A. The day creeps by in agonizing slowness as you wait for the end...and whatever T's next penance is. Finally, the last class is over, the bell rings, and you're on your way out the door. Maybe Dorko has a D&D game or something today and is letting you off the hook!
No such luck. Your cell rings. Yep, it's T. "My car's at the end of the parking lot. Meet me there." Sure enough - there it is. There's Captain Acne right next to it, waving, too. So what the Hell?
- Go meet him, but you are not getting into that car.
- Go meet him, and go along with him.
- The Hell with this - go the other way and let him do his worst.
Requirements: This is a story about a young girl written in second person.
