Angry Alister
by Pan
Chapter 1
It all started with my highschool girlfriend. She’d flirt with other guys, right in front of me.
Even at the time, I knew that she was doing it to get a rise out of me, and…well, it worked. I could basically feel my blood pressure rise, and in response she’d get this look in her eyes.
Then, as soon as we were alone, she’d practically jump me.
It took me a while to spot the pattern, but even then I still couldn’t work out what was causing it. I guess I just thought she just got excited by showing off in front of me.
It never even occurred to me that my reaction had anything to do with it.
We broke up when I went to college, and I started dating Merideth. Merideth and I fell in love, spent all night talking to each other; all the usual college girlfriend stuff. And I told her everything…including how much I hated it when my ex had flirted with other girls in front of me.
She promised me, in that earnest way you do when you’re dating someone new, that she’d never do something like that to me.
And to her credit, she didn’t.
But here’s the thing: Merideth would crack her knuckles.
All. The. Time.
I don’t know about you, but I friggin’ hate that sound. It’s like it penetrates directly into the pain center of my brain or something. I, too, was newly in love, so I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it—as far as I was concerned, Merideth was the girl of my dreams.
Who wants to let a little cracking sound get in the way of true love?
Like a lot of college couples, we ended up spending most of our time in each other’s dorms. It was worst when she was studying—she’d crack her knuckles, I wouldn’t say anything, but I’d just sit there getting more and more tense, more and more irritated.
Then, after the third time she’d do it in an hour (like, how is that even possible?), she’d get that look in her eyes.
Merideth would practically throw her textbook to the side, and within about thirty seconds she’d be riding me to orgasm.
Maybe I was a little slow to notice the pattern. This one wasn’t as obvious as my previous relationship. But after the fifth or sixth time she jumped straight from studying to sex, I realized that wasn’t normal.
But that’s as far as I got. I was stuck to know what one had to do with the other. Like, how could studying contract law get her excited? I even tried to do some reading about it, but it was a dead end. No one had ever connected ‘knuckle-cracking’ and ‘female arousal’ before.
So I had no idea what was happening.
Until I went back home to Albuquerque for the summer.
‘Home’ was just me, my sister, and our Mom. Dad had left a long time ago—I barely had any memories of him, and my little sister had none.
That summer, she’d just turned eighteen—I’m two years older than her. We’ve always gotten along fine, I guess, but something about turning eighteen had turned her into a total brat.
And—as much as I tried not to notice—a total hottie. Like, I know she was my sister, but Jesus H. Christ. I’d like to say she wasn’t my type (ignoring the fact she was, y’know, related to me)…but that would be a lie. My sister was pretty much every guy’s type. Long brown hair, all-over tan (a real one, not from a bottle), flat stomach…and a very, very not-flat ass and pair of boobs.
On top of that, she was zero percent shy about showing her body off. From the moment I got back from college, I don’t think I ever saw my sister in anything more than a bikini. Every inch of her skin was perfect, and she wanted to make sure you saw as much of it as possible.
Her body—and the way she insisted on sharing it with the world—had apparently served to attract Brandon, the idiot she was dating.
It’s probably hardwired into our DNA; older brothers hate their sister’s boyfriends. But even more than you’d expect from that, Brandon drove me up the wall.
Mom had a full-time job, I was on vacation, and my sister was enjoying her final summer break. She had one year of school left before she followed me either to college, or—as I vocally and repeatedly told her I’d prefer—found a school on the other side of the country.
Or even better, the other side of the planet.
Since we had a pool and Brandon the Idiot didn’t, the couple spent most of their time at our house. My sister would wear these ridiculously tiny bikinis that made it very difficult not to notice how curvy she’d grown, while I’d lie beside the water trying to get some sun.
And Brandon was there too.
I still have zero idea what my sister saw in this guy. I guess he had an alright body, but he was dumb as a post. I told him that Mexico—the country—was named after New Mexico. He didn’t even question it.
Worse that that, pretty much everything he did managed to rub me up the wrong way. I’d have said it was deliberate, except I actually think he was too dumb to plan something as simple as that.
Like, here’s a great example—he was always chewing gum, and when the flavor was gone, he’d just spit it out. Wherever he was. In the pool, onto the pavement. No thought put into it, just…straight out.
You’d ask him a question, and he’d respond with a long, loud “ummmmmmmmmmmm” before he responded, as though he was staking his conversational claim, not letting anyone else get a word in until he’d finished processing. Which could take a while.
And worst of all, he’d treat my sister like a piece of meat. Like, sure, she was showing herself off, but…that didn’t mean he got to treat her like a prize he’d won, y’know?
I know, I know, I must sound like a big brother stereotype from a poorly-written movie. Boo hoo, my hot sister was dating a moron. I was aware of how much I was playing into type…
But when you see a big idiot groping at the girl you’ve known for her entire life, I don’t think it’s possible to stop yourself from reacting.
I’d be sunning myself by the pool, they’d be chatting, and then he’d just reach out and paw her.
At first, I made a pointed comment or two. “I’m right here,” kind of stuff, y’know? But Brandon was so dense, he literally didn’t get it…and as you can imagine, my sister was not a huge fan of her older brother having any kind of say on her relationship, or how she conducted herself.
I couldn’t be bothered making a big deal out of it, so after my increasingly-blatant hints went ignored, I just stopped saying anything. It became annoyingly common for me to lay by the pool, trying to ignore an ape of a man openly groping my sister’s huge breasts in front of me, or grabbing her perfect ass as he stuck his moronic tongue down her obnoxious throat.
‘Trying’ is the key word there. Trying to ignore it. If you’ve ever been in a similar situation, you’ll know that I was kidding myself to think I could just let it wash over me like a Zen monk or whatever.
No…instead, I’d just sit there, quietly getting angrier and angrier. And worst of all…it was like because I was doing such a good job of acting cool, my sister would get more and more into her idiot boyfriend’s antics. Their embrace would grow more passionate, more involved.
Her pants of arousal got louder and louder.
Then just when I thought I was going to pop, my sister would make the flimsiest of excuses, pull Brandon inside, and leave me, alone and steaming by the pool.
By the time they’d return, I’d have calmed down. I knew what they were doing, of course, but it was easy to find solace in the fact that at least they weren’t doing it in front of me.
They’d be much more relaxed, too. As you’d expect. Relaxed and sweaty.
This basically repeated itself most days over the first few weeks of the summer break…
And then it happened.
Mom decided, for whatever reasons mothers decide things, that we were going out for ice-cream. Her, me, my sister…and Brandon the Imbecile.
Albuquerque has some pretty cool ice-cream places, and Mom was paying, so I certainly wasn’t going to object. We walked to the imaginatively-named “Cold Treats”, and picked out some…well, cold treats.
We were halfway home before Brandon’s slow-moving mental machinery had worked out that in order to enjoy his cone, he’d have to get rid of the gum he was chewing.
Showing a characteristic lack of forethought, my sister’s boyfriend spat it out.
Directly into my ice-cream.
Now look, I might have a bit of a temper, but I’m generally pretty good at not letting it show. Float like a butterfly and all that, y’know?
But when the walking waste of space who was dating my sister ruined my ice-cream, I completely lost it.
“You idiot!” I shouted. “Holy god, what is wrong with you?”
Mom and my sister stared at me, eyes widened, but I didn’t care. A week of frustration had built up inside me, and it was now directed at Brandon, completely unfiltered.
“Seriously! You’re so dumb, I feel like I lose an IQ point every time I look at you. Why would you not think? Can you not think? I can’t believe the complete and utter lack of braincells you must possess. Was your mother a postbox? Did your father try to set a record for how many times he could drop a child on its head? I’m struggling to imagine what must have happened, what bets God must have lost to produce anyone—anyTHING as stupid as you. Look at what you’ve done…for once in your life, just THINK, man!”
As soon as I let it all out, I simultaneously felt much better and much worse. Better, because there’s something deeply satisfying about ranting into someone’s face…and worse, because I’d just called my sister’s boyfriend stupid. Many, many times.
I mean, don’t get me worng—the guy was stupid, but I knew that I shouldn’t have said anything. Certainly not a LOT of things.
To my surprise, my little sister didn’t stand up for her boyfriend. I expected a scolding, but Mom didn’t say anything about how rude I’d been.
And perhaps weirdest of all, Brandon didn’t even reply—he silently offered me his ice-cream, kept his mouth closed, and the three of us walked home in silence.
Now, for all the guff I’d just given Brandon for his lack of intellect, I can’t be too proud of my own mental workings that night. Even after what happened next, I still didn’t put it together.
As soon as we got home, my sister practically dragged her boyfriend into her room. She didn’t even make an excuse—as soon as we crossed the mantle, she was pulling him into her bedroom. I swear, she even started undoing her bikini top before she was out of the room.
I turned to my Mom, a smile on my face, looking forward to the chewing out she was sure to deliver. Two rants in one night—what a treat, right?
Our mother has always been extremely strict on who we can see; my first girlfriend and I had become masters of sneaking around to avoid her lectures, and my sister wasn’t even being subtle.
But to my surprise, Mom didn’t say anything. Instead, when she saw me looking at her, she bit her lip, mumbled an excuse, and disappeared into her own room.
Huh?
In that moment, I felt like Brandon must feel all the time—completely clueless as to what was going on.
I mean, I knew what was ’going on’ in my sister’s room. Even the Idiot could have worked that one out. And even if I wasn’t able to put two and two together, my sister and her boyfriend were being shockingly loud.
Loud enough that it made absolutely no sense that my mother wasn’t doing anything about it.
What the frick was going on?
Like I said, I’d been trying really hard not to view my little sis in a sexual light, but damn. You hear someone screaming in orgasm, and it becomes pretty hard to unring that bell.
When Brandon started following my sister’s lead, his moans filling the house, I started to get worried. Not for him, or for my sister—they sounded like they were having a great time—but for Mom. She’d always been so strict…if she was ignoring this, surely that meant something was wrong with her.
And so I went down the hallway, to my mother’s room, and heard something I’d never thought I’d hear.
Something I never wanted to hear.
Something that I would probably have paid good money not to hear.
You see, as loud as my sister’s cries of pleasure were…they still weren’t quite loud enough to drown out my mother’s, from the next room over.
…yeah.
Things were awkward the next day.
I wasn’t going to bring up what happened, of course, and when the rest of my family followed suit…I wasn’t sure whether I was more confused or relieved.
Like, let me be clear—none of that was normal. None of it.
Well, I guess my sister’s idiot boyfriend being a moron was normal. And them fucking loudly wasn’t exactly a revolutionary event. But everything else—I never lost my temper like that, Mom never let it slide when someone did lose their temper, my sister was alway waaaay more subtle when she was hooking up…
And Mom’s reaction to her daughter having sex in the house was definitely, definitely not to go into her own room and…
Yeah. None of it was normal.
The next day, two things were different. Firstly, Mom stopped by the store after work and got some ice-cream, presumably so that we would never have to make another trip like that again (which I think we were all very much okay with)…and secondly, Brandon stopped coming around.
My sister didn’t volunteer a reason for that, and I didn’t ask for one.
It was less than two weeks later before she dumped him—maybe she finally saw what an utter troglodyte he was, or maybe he just wasn’t worth making the effort to spend time with him outside our property.
You know how ugly girls are described as having “a great personality”? Well, my sister has a great body, and it turns out it works both ways. Even someone cursed with her personality can’t have had too much trouble finding another boyfriend pretty quickly…but for whatever reason, she didn’t.
And so for the next few days, it was just me and her hanging out by the pool.
Like I said, we’ve always gotten along. Friendly, but not ‘friends’. Y’know, standard brother-sister stuff.
But you start spending all your time with one other person, and no matter who they are, they’re sure to get on your nerves. Add to that the fact that I was probably a bit subconsciously annoyed at her for being so attractive, myself for being attracted to my own flesh and blood, and mix in her “great body” personality…I guess what happened next was inevitable.
My sister gets bored easily. This was something I’d learned from our road trips as a child. It was part of why I was surprised she stuck with Brandon as long as she did—you could have more engaging conversations with a cement mixer. She needs stimulation…and normally more than just the type I’d heard Brandon giving her.
Some things never change. And ever since the days of those long trips across America: when my sister gets bored, she likes to irritate me.
In all fairness, she hadn’t really done it since we were kids. During my highschool years we hadn’t gone on any long road trips, and I’d been too focused on girls (girls I could date, not girls I was related to) that we actually hadn’t spent much protracted time together.
But Meridith and I had promised to be faithful over the summer, so it wasn’t exactly like I could go out looking for women. Barely any of my friends had come back for the summer, so I had nowhere else to be.
My sister and I were basically were forced into daily proximity with each other.
And so she used me to relieve her boredom.
It started out mildly enough. She bomb-dived into the pool, dousing me—and the burger I was halfway through—with water. I told her off for it, and she stuck her tongue out at me in response.
I was so distracted by how very far out her tongue went, I totally failed to escalate, and so things almost immediately calmed down again.
Like, sure, I was annoyed about my burger…but my sister’s abnormally long tongue was consuming my thoughts as I consumed the soggy meal, desperately trying to think about something else.
Anything else.
The next day, she sat at the other end of the pool, and tried to throw leaves and twigs into my drink. She was far away enough that she never even got close, so it didn’t really bother me.
Also, I knew what she was doing. If someone’s trying to annoy you and you let them…they win, right?
For the next day or two, she sat on the close end of the pool and tried to convince me to drive her somewhere. I actually don’t think there was anywhere in particular she wanted to go, but she never let up. Endless hours of my sister trying to wheedle a yes out of me.
I could have driven her somewhere, I guess, but I knew she didn’t really want it, and I didn’t really want to get up, so I mostly just tuned her out.
It was the end of the first week when she finally managed to get a rise out of me. She was wearing her favorite bikini—I mean, I assume it was her favorite. It was definitely the one I saw her in the most. It was blue, with these yellow dots., including two dots positioned directly over her nipples.
I always assumed it was by chance, although I guess I shouldn’t have underestimated my sister. It was very possible that every time she put it on, she very deliberately positioned those two spots, knowing that eyes would be drawn to them.
Even mine. Her brother’s. Someone who really shouldn’t have been looking.
Her nipples weren’t, like, erect (and I wish I could’ve said the same about what own swimsuit covered) but the material was thin, and the way the spots landed, it was almost impossible not to notice.
She sat on the near side of the pool. As I did most days, I was wearing sunglasses. Partially to protect my eyes from the harsh southwestern sun…but mostly so that it wouldn’t be obvious where my gaze wandered.
Don’t get me wrong; I tried not to let my gaze wander. I really did.
But sometimes you just can’t help but look, y’know?
And as I surrepticiously checked out my sister’s perfect body, she did it again. She started picking up leaves from the side of the pool and trying to throw them into my beer.
I reminded myself that this wasn’t her first time trying this, and tried to relax and ignore her, but as her shots got closer and closer, I could feel my blood-pressure rising.
And then when she landed one right into my drink, I lost it.
“God damn it!”
My sister’s eyes widened, and I could feel my blood pumping through my body. I knew I should stop, before I did something I’d regret…but I couldn’t. Just like the other day, my temper completely got away from me, and the words started tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You learn this trick from your dumb-ass boyfriend, or did this one come straight out of your own bimbo brain? God you’re a waste of space…why do you have to be such a pest? If I could trade you for a box of rocks, I’d pay a lot of money for the privilege. Sometimes I can’t believe we share a parent, because if I was told you were the offspring of an orangutan and a banana, I’d not only believe it, I’d think you got your brain from the banana’s side! Can you please get either out of my space, or off the damn planet, becaues I am DONE with you!”
When I was done, there it was again, that mix of emotions. I always felt better after a rant, but it didn’t entirely erase the feeling of guilt I had from exploding at my sister like that. And I was so charged with adrenaline—I could practically feel my heartbeat, pushing my angried-up blood throughout my body.
But more than anything, I felt confused.
In response to my outpouring of anger, my little sister didn’t look even remotely subdued. A weird look had come into her eyes—one that I recognized from the night I’d shouted at Brandon, or all the times she’d dragged him inside.
My neck turned red as I realized what I was seeing.
My sister was horny.
Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t like I didn’t know this happened. I hadn’t, like, convinced myself that she never got turned on or anything like that. This wasn’t the discovery of a young man discovering that oh my, women like sex too.
The shock wasn’t at the realization that my sister was worked up…it was the fact that it seemed to be directed at me.
I was grappling with the mix of shock and revulsion at what I’d just observed when she did it. My sister slowly, deliberately, picked up another leaf, crushed it into a ball…and threw it directly into my coke.
It was like something possessed me. I’ve never, ever been so mad before in my life. You know the phrase ‘he saw red?’
Until that day, I’d always figured that was just a fancy way of conveying how angry they were.
But as my sister openly, intentionally provoked me…I literally saw red.
When it faded and the world came back into focus, my sister was laying across my lap. There’s no doubt in my mind that she could feel my cock poking up into her stomach, but in that moment, I can tell you that I absolutely didn’t care.
I was the angriest I’ve ever been. My blood was pounding through my body, and I wasn’t thinking. I was too mad to think. There’s a reason ‘mad’ is the word for both fury and insanity, y’know?
I raised my hand, and with a powerful THWACK, brought it down on my sister’s rear.
I’m not a violent man, really. I’ve never so much as been in a physical fight since grade school. But in that moment, as I let pure instinct guide my actions, I wanted to hurt my sister. Not permanently. Not seriously.
But she needed to be punished. I wanted to punish her for what she’d done.
My hand was stinging with pain as I pulled it away from my sister’s perfect ass, but I didn’t care. And as my heartbeat pounded in my ear, I heard it.
I’d been expecting my sister to cry out—on some level, I wanted it.
But this wasn’t an exclamation of pain. It was one of pleasure.
My eyes widened. I’d just struck her ass as hard as I possibly could, and she didn’t care.
She’d liked it.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. First she’d deliberately thrown trash into my drink, and now she was moaning with pleasure as I punished her?
I brought my hand down on my sister’s ass again, and again.
THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.
As I rained down blows on my sister’s barely-clad ass, I felt her twitching underneath me. For a moment I thought I’d really hurt her, but then I realized.
She was cumming.
My sister was cumming at my hand, reaching orgasm as I spanked her.
In an instant, my anger disappeared, and I shoved her away from me in horror.
She looked up at me, her eyes dark with lust, but I turned away. I turned, and ran into my room.
God…what had I done?
* * *