My Sister the Sex Addict

by Richard Bissell

  “How?”

  “Maybe if we stopped doing it in the afternoons?”

  “Okay. I guess so.”

  “Thanks.”

  We tried, anyway. But the two of us were just too horny for each other. After two days of abstinence, we resumed the afternoon activity, except Kim no longer swallowed my cum. After a few days of watching her run into the bathroom to spit, I had an idea. The health clinic at my college gave condoms away for free, so I grabbed a big handful and brought them home in my backpack.

  That afternoon, I showed Kim what I had gotten.

  “Now we can do whatever we want. I’ll just cum into one of these.”

  She grinned.

  “Cool!”

  Thereafter, we fucked twice a day, once in the afternoon and once at night. Kim’s tits had continued to grow, and she and Mom soon had to make another trip to the department store to replace her now out-grown C-cup bras. We continued playing around in the shower, but Kim gradually cut back to only a few doses of cum a week. We simply fooled around, and I came wherever I happened to be, whether it was her hand, her mouth, or between her tits.

  Then, one day, she announced that she had had enough. She liked her tits the way they were, and she no longer saw any need to ingest my sperm to make them grow.

  I was more disappointed with this development than I once would have thought. But hey—I had had this hot eighteen-year-old three times a day for nearly four months now, and I didn’t really think it was going to last forever. Besides which, she was my stepsister, right? I really needed to find someone else to fuck. And this whole thing had been a fraud. I was lucky to have gotten what I had.

  My dick took more convincing than the rest of me, though. That night, after I went to bed, it was soon aching with a load of jizz it was not going to get to discharge, at least not into its usual receptacle. My hand slipped into my shorts. Christ—when was the last time I had jerked off? I had hardly had the chance to do it since this thing started.

  I began to stroke slowly. Then the door to the bathroom opened, and I jumped in fright. It was Kim, and she was getting into bed with me like she always did.

  “What are you doing?”

  She sounded hurt.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought you said . . . “

  She looked at me in confusion and then laughed hysterically.

  “No, silly. I just said I don’t need to eat any more of your cum. I didn’t mean I wanted to stop doing it. Jeez! Why would I want that?”

  “But I thought that after all this . . .”

  “That I was just doing it for your cum?” She giggled again. “Since when? Do you think I would have been fucking you and showering with you and letting you do all this other stuff to me if all I wanted was your sperm? I would have just kept jerking you off like I did in the beginning.”

  She crawled above me, pinning me down and pushing her mammoth tits into my face.

  “Goof! Forget your cum. We’re going to keep fucking until . . . well, until we both want to stop. And that won’t be any time soon if I have anything to say about it.”

  And so, my stepsister, who is all of five-foot-three, now has the biggest tits in her entire school. She’s happier than a pig in shit and takes every opportunity to show herself off. We’ve continued to shower together and fuck a couple of times a day, but the cum-guzzling has come to an end. She doesn’t mind letting me cum in her mouth, but she’s now a confirmed spitter.

  Mom has remained clueless about what we’ve been up to, and has since decided that Kim’s chest is the result of some freak genetic mutation, since she’s about twice the size of anyone in her family.

  I have to wonder myself, though. What if I was right? What if my cum really did make her tits grow? Her phenomenal breast growth began not long after we started fooling around, and it did indeed taper off when she began cutting back on my cum. So who knows? Take a look around. Give it some thought. And if you ever hear some small-breasted chick complaining about her boobs, remember my story. At worst, you might just get a bj out of it.

  And at best . . .

  Read on for a preview of My Cousin's Sex Diet, Family Chemistry Book 2.

  1.

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t fuck you anymore.”

  Not the sort of thing any guy wants to hear, eh? Even when coming from one’s stepsister. I had been expecting this for weeks, but it was still a jolt, especially since it was delivered in the midst of one of those adolescent moments when you simply have to get off or die in the attempt.

  I groaned.

  “This is about Jake?”

  Kim nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t feel right dating him and still doing it with you.”

  She was standing there in one of her “fuck me” outfits (though the message was probably unintentional)--tight scoop-neck baby T-shirt showcasing her 32DD chest, with cut-off denim shorts under it. Unfortunately, she also wore that familiar “vulnerable little sister” look on her face that made it impossible for me to be mean to her. Kim and I certainly had our share of sibling spats, even since we started getting it on last year, but when she gave me that look, I was putty in her hands. It was a good thing she was just too good-natured to really realize it, or she could have gotten a lot more out of me over the years.

  I groaned again.

  “I understand. I guess.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like it or anything, it just doesn’t feel right anymore.”

  I waved her off. I couldn’t stand having this conversation go on any longer. Beside which, if Kim and I were not going to fuck, I had to get her out of my room so I could beat off. My balls felt like they were caught in a vise.

  She gave me another helpless look and left. As soon as she was gone, I sat down at my computer and began searching for some useful porn.

  Kim had begun seeing this guy about a month ago. She had gotten a lot more attention from the guys at her school since getting her tits, but she hadn’t dated anyone seriously until recently. Jake was another senior, and when he asked her to the Prom that Spring, it was clear that our days of furtive pseudo-incest were numbered. I had finished my second year at community college a few weeks before, and unless I found someone else, I was now faced with a summer without pussy while I waited to transfer to State that fall. Granted, most guys my age were in the same boat, but I had gotten spoiled after having Kim two or three times a day for nearly a year.

  After a few days, I was ready to go nuts. I tried calling up a few girls I had hooked up with in the past but got nowhere. My urgent desire to get laid was probably too transparent.

  And that’s when my summer took a decidedly twisted turn.

  “What would you guys say to having your cousin Julie stay with us this summer?”

  Kim and I looked up from our dinner.

  “Why?” Kim asked.

  Mom sighed.

  “Polly is going backpacking through Mexico with her boyfriend, and they don’t want to take Julie. She asked if we could take her for the summer.”

  Our Aunt Polly lived a couple of states away. Polly was my stepmom’s sister, and she had divorced her husband about the same time my dad left us all for a stripper. Said stripper had made it clear I was not welcome in their life, which was I had stayed behind . . . and as Mom and Dad had been married for twelve years or so, I was used to the situation and didn’t want to leave either.

  Julie was eighteen, a few months older than Kim, and we saw them a couple of times a year. I briefly considered the possibility of trying to boink Julie somehow, but discarded it. She was nice enough to be around, and certainly not unattractive, but she was also about thirty pounds overweight and after nine months of Kim (who had all of her excess body fat on her chest), she didn’t really interest me.

  “Where would she sleep?” Kim asked.

  Mom gave her a look of s
ympathy.

  “She’d have to share your room. We’d have to get the spare bed out of the attic.”

  Kim whimpered in disappointment.

  “Does she have to?”

  “I’m sorry, honey. There’s nowhere else for her to go.”

  Kim’s eyes dropped to the table. I could see she wanted to protest, but Mom was right. There really wasn’t anywhere else for Julie to sleep.

  “When would she be here?” I asked.

  “Polly is leaving in about a week. They won’t be back until late August.”

  Kim whimpered again. I gave her a look of commiseration, but it seemed the issue was closed.

  Julie arrived the next week. She was about Kim’s height but quite a bit heavier. She resembled Kim somewhat, though she had long dark red hair and hazel eyes. Mom and I set up the extra bed in Kim’s room, and Kim and Julie spent the rest of the night reorganizing things.

  I was in the bathroom taking a leak later that night, after all the lights were out, when I heard the two of them talking.

  “I can’t believe how much your boobs grew. How do you stay so thin like that?” Julie asked quietly.

  “Uh . . . I don’t really do anything.”

  I could hear the nervousness in Kim’s voice, and I knew why it was there, since she thought she had gotten her big tits from three months of swallowing my cum.

  “Nothing? I mean, you must do something.”

  “I guess I try to eat right. But I don’t really play any sports besides P.E.”

  “God. I’d kill to get a body like yours. I swear, I’d do anything.”

  Something went click in my head. The same devilish corner of my mind that had come up with the “cum makes your tits grow” story began hatching something else.

  “Have you tried dieting?” Kim asked.

  “Nothing seems to work. I keep thinking there has to be some way to do it. I just haven’t figured it out yet.”

  Another click. Oh my, God, I thought. I cannot do something like this. But the idea latched on to me immediately.

  I listened for more, but the girls seemed to have called it a night. I scurried back to my room and began plotting.

  It took me a few days to work up the guts to confront Kim with this idea. In the mean time, the three of us had largely hung out together, and Kim seemed to have adjusted to Julie’s presence. That afternoon, while Mom was still at work and Julie was down in the living room watching television, I cornered Kim in her bedroom.

  She immediately misinterpreted my presence.

  “Jimmy, no. I told you we can’t do it anymore, and we really can’t do it with Julie around.”

  I held up my hands.

  “That’s not what I want. I just need your help with something.”

  “What?”

  “I can deal with your thing with Jake, but if you could help me get someone else, it would help me get over it.”

  She looked at me warily.

  “Well . . . who?”

  I checked the hallway.

  “Julie.”

  Her eyes bulged.

  “Julie? How? And why? Can’t you find someone you’re not related to?”

  “I had an idea. I just need your help.”

  “What idea?”

  I explained. Her face went pale as she realized what I was asking.

  “No way,” she said. “No damn way. I am not telling Julie anything about what we did.”

  “You don’t have to tell her who it was. Just tell her it was an old boyfriend.”

  “But I’d have to tell her I was sucking some guy off for months and months.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, you were.”

  “Yeah, well . . .”

  “Kim, you’re eighteen. It’s not going to make her flip out if you tell her you’re not a virgin or gave some guy a few blowjobs.”

  “But everything about your cum and all that?”

  “Just tell her it was a side effect you figured out later. Not that you were doing it deliberately.”

  She began to waver.

  “Kim, come on. Just help me out here, and you won’t have to worry about me bugging you anymore.”

  She whimpered.

  “Please?”

  She let out a sigh. “Okay. Just give me some time to work up to it.”

  “Whatever you need. Thanks.”

  She nodded, groaning in frustration.

  Nothing happened for a few days. Every night, I snuck into the bathroom to eavesdrop on them, but Kim still seemed to be working up her courage. I was about to decide she had chickened out when, three days later, I heard her begin the spiel I had given her.

  Julie had again been complaining about her inability to lose weight.

  “You remember when you asked me what I did to look like this?” Kim asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “There was actually something. But you have to swear not to tell anyone.”

  I heard Julie’s bed squeak as she sat up.

  “What? Like drugs or something?”

  “No. Something else.”

  “What?”

  “Um. Sex. Sort of.”

  Nothing but silence for a few seconds, then Julie, her voice noticeably lower.

  “You’ve had sex?”

  “Yeah. I had a boyfriend last year.”

  “And sex made you lose weight?”

  “Not exactly. But . . . don’t gross out or anything . . . his cum seemed to make my tits grow.”

  More silence.

  “No way.”

  “I gave him blowjobs for a long time before we did it. When I started doing that, all of a sudden my tits began growing. You know how much bigger I am than my mom. I don’t know how else to explain it. They stopped growing about the time I broke up with him.”

  “God.”

  “So maybe that might help you. If you, like, went on a cum diet.”

  Julie burst out laughing, though she seemed to try to restrain it.

  “God. But how would that help me lose weight? I mean, I wouldn’t mind having bigger tits, but what I really want is a smaller ass.”

  “Maybe if you just ate cum for a while. I read somewhere that it has a lot of nutrients and vitamins and stuff. Protein.”

  That was part of the story I had worked up and fed to Kim a few days earlier.

  “Protein,” Julie repeated. The mirth seemed to have left her voice.

  “Yeah. So you wouldn’t starve. Your tits would grow, and you would lose weight.”

  Neither of them said anything for a while.

  “You’re serious? All those bjs really made your tits get bigger?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know what else could have done it.”

  “Well . . . shit. Where am I supposed to get that much cum? It’s not like I have a boyfriend like you did. Any I’m not going to start dating someone around here just so I can suck him off.”

  “I don’t know. It’s just an idea.”

  As I had instructed, Kim was not pushing my participation immediately.

  Julie laughed weakly.

  “If only we could get a guy to just give me his cum.”

  “Somebody who wouldn’t blab about it,” Kim said.

  “Somebody I could just up and ask. Except I know nobody here.”

  “Well—” Kim began “—but no. That would never work.”

  “What? Who?”

  “I was thinking of, you know, Jimmy. But that might be too gross for you.”

  Julie said nothing for a few seconds.

  “Jimmy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you really think he would do it?”

  “If we just asked for his cum?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he—” Kim began giggling. “He has enough of it. I hear him beating off all the time.”

  You might think that remark would make me blush, but it didn’t. It was precisely what I told Kim to tell her.

  Julie laughed with her.

  “Oh
, God. We could, like, ask him to save me some.”

  Both of them dissolved into fits of giggling. It went on for nearly a minute. When Julie spoke up again, she had become serious again.

  “I need to think about this.”

  “It was just an idea.”

  “But you said it worked for you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think Jimmy would freak? If I came on to him somehow? I can’t just ask him to give me his cum.”

  “What are you going to do? Just start giving him bj’s?”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Have you ever given one before?”

  “Yeah. But I don’t think I’m any good at it.”

  “I could show you what to do. My boyfriend taught me a bunch of tricks.”

  I had, and the memory of all the things Kim could do with her mouth now made my dick ache. Ugh.

  “Could you? That would be really cool.”

  “Okay.”

  There was nothing else after that. Eventually, I went back to my room and went to sleep.

  About the Author

  Col. Richard F. Bissell, USMC (Ret.) is a globe-trotting adventurer–cum–soldier-of-fortune–cum–“security specialist” who amuses himself in his spare time by writing cheap erotica. When not being shot at or otherwise threatened with sharp objects, he lives alone in a heavily fortified compound outside Washington, D.C.

  Mr. Bissell’s wildly popular debut novel, Call Girl Cheerleaders, cannot be made acceptable to modern e-book publishers and has therefore been released into the wilds of the Internet. Those desiring to read it are directed to Google.

  Mr. Bissell disdains social media and his .gov email address is too vulnerable to hacking to be used for fan mail. He can be reached through his colleague Michael Dalton, who has grudgingly agreed to pass along any correspondence. Mr. Dalton requests that such missives be submitted through his web site at michaeldaltonbooks.com or via Twitter at @MikeDaltonBooks.