A Helping Hand from an Overly-Nice Sister, Part 1
Copyright © by the Author, 2015
"Is there anything else? Anything you need?" Mandy was standing next to my chair, looking down on me with that sparkle
of concern in her blue eyes. "Really, anything at all. I'll do whatever you need," she reiterated for the umpteenth time
over the last few days.
"No, I'm fine," I said. "You can go for a while."
She took only one step back, then half of one forward again. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." I guess because I was agitated by Mandy and generally restless, I sat up in my recliner in front of the TV and
actually reached forward for my drink, almost reaching it before the bandages reminded me.
"Oh, let me get that," Mandy said, jumping back toward me and grabbing the drink away from my white-wrapped hands. She
held the straw up to my mouth.
With a sigh, I looked at her, then took one sip before sitting back. "Sorry. Here, I'm putting it on the end table next
to you so you can just lean over if you want more, okay?"
"Thanks," I said, resigned, and sat back, staring at the TV.
She stopped and scanned all around me, trying to think of anything else that needed to be moved. "Okay, well, just let
me know if you need anything." I didn't respond, and after a moment she left.
I lifted my hands, which I had sat down the wrong way on the chair arms without thinking, palms-down. They now ached,
and I flipped them over with one last sigh of frustration.
A week before, it had been our night to cook dinner, Mandy and I. That meant she did most of the cooking while I tried
to find excuses to stay away the whole time.
One thing you need to understand about my sister Mandy is that she's a complete goody-goody, the kind of kid that seems
destined to grow up and be a kindergarten teacher or something. She's always trying to listen to others, do the right
thing, be responsible, help where she can, etc., ad nauseum. Enough to drive any normal, teenage older brother nuts.
So on our night to cook dinner, while I would be trying, like any well-adjusted teenager, to avoid performing any labor
at all, she'd be working hard and trying to do a good job.
On this particular evening, I'd gotten caught sneaking off while Mandy worked and was sent back in with explicit
instructions to assist my sister however she needed.
Mandy had followed up Mom's racket with a scolding of her own. I just rolled my eyes. Eventually, she petered out,
finally going over to check the spaghetti. She decided it was done, flipped off the gas burner and picked it up.
Just as she lifted the handles and turned, the smell reached us.
"Oh, the bread is burning!" She shuffled in front of the oven for a second with the pot full of water and pasta in her
hands, not sure what to do next. Finally seeming to realize she'd have to put the pot down before she could take out the
bread, she found me between her and the sink. "Here," she said, thrusting it at me.
Being distracted by her panic, I took it from her without thinking; grabbing it by the underneath the sides near the
bottom as she spun around.
It took a moment to register the heat on my hands, and another to realize it was burning me. I gasped, but somehow
didn't want to just drop the heavy pot of water on the floor, and kept holding on.
Hearing my gasp but not looking, Mandy said, "Just pour it into the collander in the sink," as she opened the oven door.
For way too long, more than a few seconds, I just stood there grasping the hot pot, not knowing what to do. Finally, I
hollered out, spinning around and dropping the pot into the sink with an incredible bang against the collander.
If I had just dropped it sooner, the damage wouldn't have been too bad. As it was, I ended up with fairly severe second
degree burns across the palms and part of the fingers on both hands. At the hospital they cleaned it up, dressed them,
gave me pain killers and sent me home to recover. It was clear it'd be weeks before I regained the use of my hands.
Mandy felt horrible. She swore to help me with anything I might need until I got better. It was summer, and with Mom and
Dad out of the house most days, Mandy quickly took over helping with pretty much everything except changing clothes,
bathing, and using the bathroom.
For the first few days, I was very angry about what happened, and made full use of her service. For two days straight, I
made her bring me stuff constantly, channel surf, scratch my back, and any other menial task that came to mind, and all
with rudeness and a mean spirit.
But along with being a goody-goody, one of my sister's more annoying qualities is that, despite occasionally being
preachy, she's unfailingly kind. She felt guilty about my burns, and nothing I did or any level of meanness was going to
keep her from being nice to me.
After those first couple days, I just didn't have it in me to continue being mean to her for helping me, and I simply
settled into a funk. Not being able to use your hands for anything gets old real quick. Even the painkillers hadn't done
much to improve my mood, dulling my head but not really making me feel any happier. And while I had grown thankful for
Mandy's constant help, I couldn't help but be down with her and most everything else.
*****
A few minutes after Mandy had left me in my recliner with a drink at my side, the show I was watching ended. It was
followed by some teen chick show, which didn't do much for me.
With my hands and fingers mostly wrapped, using a remote was an exercise in frustration. I considered calling Mandy in,
but just didn't want her in fawning over me again right then. Besides, after a week, I was tired of most every show on
anyway, and couldn't think of much I'd want it turned to that time of day.
I sank into the chair, only half paying attention to the nonsense problems on the show, but soon finding that a couple
of the girls were pretty hot.
Which brings us to another problem. Seven days was approximately six days longer that I was used to going without
jacking off. It didn't take long before my dick was hard and bulging. I was wearing loose-fitting athletic shorts, to
allow me manage getting them up and down in the bathroom with the hooves now at the end of my arms. The tent I was
pitching was beyond obvious, and to make things worse, my balls had really started to ache when I got horny.
I had once tried using my wrapped hands, but it just felt unpleasant on my dick and hurt my burns. So I knew there was
no hope of relief now, or for the next couple weeks, at least. Frustrated, I got up to get away from the TV and realized
I needed to go to the bathroom.
The bathroom turned into more frustration. With the hard-on, I had a more difficult time even getting my pants down, as
the waist kept catching on it. Even when I got them down, I was still at a loss; my erection just wouldn't go away. With
very limited ability to point it at the toilet if I was either sitting or standing, I couldn't get it pointing at the
toilet. And with it sticking out there and my balls aching, I couldn't stop thinking about sex, either.
If I'd been patient, I might have waited it out. Instead, I fuddled my pants back up with a growl and kicked the toilet
seat down.
By the time I went out the bathroom door, Mandy was standing outside it. "Everything alright?" She asked, looking
concerned.
"Yes, everything's fine in the BATHROOM," I said, pushing past her, embarrassed she'd even ask.
She followed me back to the living room. I stopped before sitting down, hesitating to let her see my tent.
"Uh, well is there anything I can help you with?" she asked.
"No, you can't help me with this."
"Are you sure? I don't mind, really, if there's anything-"
As she was talking my frustration won out and flopped into the recliner, tent sticking straight up. "No, I really don't
think this is something you can help me with, Mandy," I said, cutting off her now-tedious mantra and glaring at her with
raised eyebrows.
"Uh..." She didn't understand my meaning immediately, and stood there thinking for a second before her eyes seemed to
discover across the main clue. "Oh. Uh....oh." I gave a sarcastic nod and looked away from her. "I hadn't really thought
about that. I guess you'd usally..." she said. She was well aware that I masturbated, because, while I don't think she'd
ever seen it, I'd joked or teased her about it several times, partly because I felt the goody two-shoes needed at least
some exposure to that aspect of being an adult, and partly just to be a jerk. "Sorry," she said, way too sympathetically
for the subject.
I sighed, now feeling bad for being rude to her again. "It's fine, I just need some distraction. Can you help me find
something different on TV? Maybe some sports."
"Of course," she said, scooping up the remote. She flipped around, letting me get a look at each channel before moving
on. There wasn't much to my liking.
"I can call up Cynthia for you, you haven't talked to her in a few days, I don't think." She blurted out. Her suggestion
surprised me to the point that I could believe she meant it in the way I was thinking.
I shook my head. "No, we broke up," I said. Even if we'd still been together, Cynthia wouldn't have been interested in
helping me out in that way, anyway.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you were together last week."
"We were. We broke up on the phone a few days ago." I didn't want Mandy to know it had probably been because Cynthia was
disturbed by my hands being burned for weeks, but I could tell she suspected it anyway.
"Oh. Sorry," she said, obviously feeling more guilty that before, even.
"That's fine," I said, picking some random Cubs game as she flipped around, mostly just wanting her to go. "I'll let you
know if I need anything else."
"Okay."
*****
Things were no better the next morning. Soon after Mom and Dad got me set up in the recliner and left for work, a hot
chick showed up on TV. From that point on, the whole morning I seemed to either have a hard-on or be on the verge of one.
I tried to hide it from Mandy. Not really out of embarrassment, as I'd never been that ashamed about it around her.
Mostly, I just didn't want her to feel any guiltier that she already did.
She seemed to be ever-present, always hovering around and checking if I needed anything. Since I was wearing nothing but
a t-shirt and loose athletic shorts without underwear to make it easier to use the bathroom, obscuring it was pretty
difficult. And while covering with a pillow made it less visible, it made my problem no less obvious.
Despite my effort, it was quickly clear that Mandy was aware of the situation, as she wasn't doing a very good job of
hiding her regular glances in that direction. All morning she seemed rather tense and guilty, again apologizing for
causing the burns several times.
Lunch meant sitting up in my chair without pillow while Mandy fed me bites one at a time, making it impossible to keep
my erection discreet when it redeveloped. Though her eyes weren't good at avoiding obvious glances, she was careful not
to say anything, and from then on I gave up my attempts at hiding it.
Later that afternoon saw another failed bathroom try as my erection had popped up and wouldn't recede, leaving me
visibly frustrated when I went back to my seat.
"Having trouble?" Mandy asked as I sat down.
"Yeah, I just need to...wait a minute before I can go." I glanced down at my crotch, which, having just been standing
up, was set up to make as large a tent as possible.
"Is that being a big problem for you?" She asked. She caught herself just after she said it, and blushed a bit at her
unintentional double entendre. Again, I was surprised she had mentioned it.
I took a deep breath to ease my frustration. "I just need to let it cool down a few minutes before I can go. It's hard
for me to direct without my hands when it's like that." For her to even bring up the subject made me think my efforts at
exposing her had been successful, so I decided to continue giving her more information than she'd meant to ask for. "The
real problem is that it's getting sore down there. It's just not used to going this long without being fired, so it's
kind of started to get overloaded."
"Oh."
"Yeah, it's a bummer." I hoped I'd embarrassed her enough that she'd let the subject alone.
For a minute we just sat watching TV. Mandy got up and walked over to me, checking my drink and then stepping toward the
kitchen and stopping again. "You know, if you wanted, maybe I could..."
"Hmmm?" I said, breaking attention from the TV. I had no idea what she was talking about. She seemed sheepish when I
looked at her.
"Never mind," she said, then turned into the kitchen.
Maybe an hour later she came back in, getting me a refill before sitting down on the couch to watch TV with me. It was
nothing she liked, so I knew she was just there to keep me company.
"I finally went to the bathroom," I said to lighten her spirits. "Found a gap when there were only guys on TV."
"Oh, good," she said. "Good thing, too. I don't think this show will help you."
"No, I suppose not." The new show featured another painfully hot chick.
"Want me to change the channel?"
I sighed. "Nah. There's nothing on now anyway."
So we just sat back and watched, me with an obvious hard-on. After a bit, there came a part on the show with the chick
in her bra. Again, my balls started to ache and I found myself squirming in my chair.
"You okay?" Mandy asked. She sat up on the edge of her seat, ready to leap to my aid if I had asked for anything.
"Yeah. Just two or three more weeks. I'm fine." I tried to make it a joke, but the frustration was still clear.
She stared off into space a moment, then stood up and stepped toward me. "Here, let me help you," she declared.
I could tell from her stiff demeanor that she meant something different than refilling my drink, but I didn't see what
immediately. She stopped in front of my and leaned down, reaching toward my shorts.
"Wha?" I managed.
It was enough to make her hesitate. "I was going to...do it for you." Her voiced cracked, making her less sure of
herself, but she hadn't quite run off yet. "I mean, you seemed so uncomfortable, it seemed better than waiting another
three weeks..."
Unbelievable as it was, she was serious. There was no way she'd tease me that way. I knew the thing to do was to just
laugh her off. But at that moment, all I could manage was "Uh, well..."
Feeling awkward, I looked away and back at the TV, and after a moment, Mandy glanced back too. She was still in her bra
there, in a scene that involved bending over which gave a view of her cleavage. My balls ached again and I inhaled a
little, shifting.
It was apparantly enough to steel Mandy. Looking back at me and clearly not getting a 'no', she took ahold of the waist
of my shorts. Stretching them from my body, she hesitated just a moment longer, and then pulled them down over my dick,
much more easily than my stumps had been able to all week.
Exposed to the cool air of freedom, my dick jumped a bit and Mandy paused, looking at it. She seemed stuck a moment,
realizing that releasing the waist band would cause it to simply try to go back to my waist. As she hesitated at that
last hurdle, our gazes met. In that look I think we both realized that she really was willing to do it, and that I was
willing to let her.
Finding her resolve, she returned to the problem. "Okay, well-" she said, coming to a solution. She was getting ready to
give me specific instructions, but I beat her to it, already raising my rear off the chair a bit. Sliding the shorts
over my butt, she eased them down my legs as I resettled, not stopping at the knees or even ankles, but pulled them
clear off my feet. She folded them over neatly and laid them on the couch.
I set my feet back down and let my legs spread a little, suddenly feeling how exposed I was in front of my sister. Even
two minutes before such an idea would have been unimaginable to me. Mandy crouched down to the side of the chair. "Just
get comfortable. Pretend you're doing it yourself." she said, and wasting no time, reached for my dick.
My dick was, of course, fully hard, as it had been almost constantly for several days, with my foreskin down, lying
across my pubic hair to my stomach. Without further build-up, Mandy wrapped her hand around the center of my shaft and
started stroking. She seemed nervous to lift it back against mild resistance, and only raised it slightly from my stomach.
It seemed preposterous to me. There I was, sitting in the chair, naked from the waist down, my little sister crouched
down beside the chair next to me, hand wrapped around my cock and jerking me off. Having someone else's hand on me like
that wasn't exactly common for me anyway, and the times it had happened had been dark, secret, in uncomfortable places
trying not to be seen. Mostly, such things happened by my own hand, quietly in my room on my bed or sitting in my chair
with the door locked. Certainly not laying back in a recliner, in broad daylight, naked from the waist down, with my sister.
Compared to my own hand, hers seemed small and skinny, and somewhat cool against my warm dick. Her motions were not
practiced like mine, and she wiggled my whole cock with each stroke, often rubbing my head against the fabric of my
shirt. It felt so different, and so inappropriate, and yet, still very right. I really wanted to cum, needed to cum. I
could sink into myself, not think about Mandy. This would only take a minute and I would blow my load, and we could
simply forget it ever happened.
"Am I doing it right?" Mandy asked, her voice always so earnest.
"Yeah, that's good," I said. I gave into the sensation, letting go of my qualms for a moment. I could feel myself
already starting to build.
She stopped a second, wiggling her arm, clearly feeling a little tired in her unpracticed wrist. To cover for the pause,
she said, "Am I holding it too tight?"
"No, you have it just right," I said, and she started again. I felt a twinge. Was I taking advantage of her guilt,
pushing her to do something she didn't really want to? I didn't want to let myself think about it. My build-up seemed to
slow, but not diminish, and I felt a little guiltier, knowing I'd let her finish, either way.
My focus shifted to her arm, her small, boney fingers wrapped around me, stroking up and down. My eyes wandered up. I'd
been too embarrassed to look at her up to then, but my first glance showed her attention was on my dick, so she wouldn't
notice. Her eyes were wide open, face relaxed. Despite whatever fatiguemight be creeping in, her strokes stayed steady,
and I could see she was focused keeping up her pace without wavering.
I couldn't see even a touch of impatience that I would expect had she been acting from guilt or pity, despite her early
hesitation at the strange situation. This was Mandy, kind, sweet Mandy, and she was acting as Mandy always acted:
putting my needs first in her mind and simply trying to help me feel better in whatever way she could, without an ounce
of resentment.
Concern evaporated from my body and I oozed back into the chair, quickly feeling the build-up again. It wouldn't be
long. Her strokes were short, as she seemed to be trying to not let her fingers hit my balls or push my foreskin onto
the head. She got a little less controlled, and my head started rubbing my shirt more regularly. I tensed a bit.
"What?" She asked concerned, slowing briefly.
"No, you're okay, just, pull my shirt up," I said, a little breathless, not ready to speak.
"Oh. Sorry," She paused a moment. I tried to push up my shirt with my stump, but had some trouble. Not letting my dick
go, with her free left hand she helped pull my shirt up a few inches, freeing it from where it was caught under my back
in the process. "Like that?"
"No, all the way up," I said. Having cum sprayed all over my shirt wouldn't probably be for the best right now, since
Mom or Dad helped change it every night. She wasn't quite sure what I meant, but had loosened it enough that I was able
to hook in my thumb and pull it up to my neck. "Okay," I said.
Understanding to start again, she seemed to fight with renewed vigor. The build-up was quick now, and soon my butt
muscles started clenching, pushing me slightly more to her hand. She slowed again. "Is it okay?" she said, worried again
she was doing something wrong as I tensed.
"Yeah," I said, "Don't stop."
"Oh," she said, apparently understanding and starting again. I felt so close; if I'd been doing it myself, I'd be
finishing, but with an offbeat rhythm, it was very different. If she'd just go a little faster and harder� yet, I
hesitated to say so.
It didn't much matter, though, as soon enough I started to go. Thin bands shot up across my chest, the first few
spurting nearly to my shirt. As I'd kind of expected, it went farther than it usually did, firing pretty wild as Mandy
kept jerking. It took a few before she seemed to realize what was happening and let her hand slow down.
After the fifth or sixth shot, it stopped squirting, and Mandy stopped a moment. I wasn't done yet, though, and my dick
pumped in her hand, oozing some more, thicker cum out onto my stomach. Seeing there was more left, she started jerking
again, probably a little too fast trying to match her old speed.
I let my breathing be heavy, wanting her to know how satisfied I felt. She kept stroking as the last globs pushed out
the tip of my cock, stopping only after I relaxed.
Now that I was done, everything was different. It really dawned on me that I hadn't just jerked off, I'd been jerked off
by my little sister. There I was, completely naked except for a shirt I was holding up to my neck, covered in the cum
that Mandy had just pumped out of me. That I had let her pump out of me. And I had wanted her to do it. And she had
volunteered to do it.
Holy crap, if anyone ever found out. If Mom and Dad ever found out. Jesus.
"Well, I think that did the trick," Mandy said somewhat awkwardly. My dick, though still thick, was getting softer in
her hand. She finally let go, raising her hand slowly as some cum dripped off her thumb. I could see there was still a
big wad across her knuckle and fingernail. She looked at it more closely, not sure what to do with it, but looking more
curious than disturbed.
"Uh...yeah. I guess so," I said, more awkwardly. Feeling uncomfortable, I wanted to immediately get cleaned up and I
shifted in the chair, only then remembering my useless hands.
Much calmer than me, Mandy, still crouching next to me and holding her hand carefully over my body in case it dripped
again, said, "Here, just let me, um...How do you usually..." She looked at the cum on my chest and then her hand again.
I settled a bit. There was no chance of being caught right now and Mandy obviously wasn't that disturbed, so I needed to
stay under control. "Uh, tissues," I said.
"Oh, sure." She stood and walked to the tissue box, carefully holding her hand with my cum on it until she could wipe it
off.
Seeing there was nothing else I could do, I relaxed back in the chair, still holding my shirt to my neck, as my sister
brought the box back over to me.
As if I didn't feel bad enough, I then had to wait while my sister cleaned the cum off me, with no way of doing it
myself. I figured she'd be grossed out by it as she started, but she just squatted back down beside me and seemed to
approach it like I'd just spilled ice cream on myself or something. She started with the lines across my chest, dabbing
them up, then went for the thicker globs on my stomach, folding the tissues and trying to pick up the biggest parts.
"Let me grab a few more," she said, using up the three tissues she'd brought.
Every second while I waited to be dressed again seemed awkward, and when she turned back to me with the tissues, I felt
the need to say something. "That was kind of a big one." What a stupid comment.
"Yeah, I guess so. It'd been all week."
I didn't make another attempt to ease the tension as she silently and carefully wiped up every spot of semen on me,
making me even more self-conscious as scrubbed it out of my pubic hair while my dick wiggled and then carefully scanned
every inch of skin around it. Noticing one last bit that had oozed from the end of my shrinking dick, she hesitated just
a second before dabbing once, then twice on my tip to wipe it up.
"I think I got it all," she said, calmly picking up all the tissues, pressing them all into one hand to hold them,
careful not to really squeeze but not seeming to worry enough to try to hold them all but a clean spot.
She put them in the trash can nearby then, considering another moment, leaned back down and pulled some other trash on
top of them.
I had shaken my shirt mostly down when she came back, and she bent down again, grabbing my shorts and putting them over
my feet. "Why don't you stand up?" She said, and I obeyed, trying to stand up a little sideways to keep my shriveled
dick from being to close. She pulled my pants up, carefully raising the waist band out and over my stuff without
touching it.
She adjusted my shirt to get it straight, then stepped back and made sure everything was as it should be. Normally I'd
roll my eyes at that level of doddering, but I just sat back down. After a moment, Mandy seemed to be satisfied that
there was nothing left for her to do right then and sat down.
I felt very weird about the whole thing, and stared of at the TV. It was that same damn girl, at least wearing a shirt
now. I wanted to change the channel but found I couldn't speak to Mandy. So I just sat and watched, hoping to try to
forget the whole thing had happened.
"So was that okay?" Mandy said.
I took a deep breath, but forced myself not to sigh. "Yeah, that was...okay," I said. I didn't want to say anything in
my own embarrassment that would embarrass her or make her feel bad.
"You feel relieved?"
Yes, Mandy. Remember how you just relieved my cum all over me? "Yes, that helps," I said.
"Okay, good. I wasn't sure how it would go because I'd never done that before." Like I couldn't guess that my goody
little sister had never given a handjob before.
"Yeah, it was... fine," I said. "Thank you."
Damn it, I actually thanked her.
She gave a polite smile. "You're welcome, Kenny."
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