For a Boy

by Pan

I threw my head back in frustration when my sister asked me.

“Rachael,” I said with a sigh. “For the last time, I’m not gay. You know this. And even if I was gay, I’m not going to cheat on my boyfriend. Emphasis on boy, because see point one. And lastly, you’re my sister. So yeah, that’s basically the most screwed-up thing I’ve ever heard.”

Her hairline reclined in shock at my words, but I don’t know why. This felt like the… I dunno, five hundredth time we’d had this conversation. I’d been so, so supportive of my sister when she’d come out, but when she realized I wasn’t going to disown her for being a lesbian, it felt like she literally had never stopped hitting on me.

It sounds crazy, right? She’s my sister. And she knows I’m straight. She knows I’m not into girls. And she knows that I’m especially, especially not into my own family… but no matter how many times I explained it to her, she just wouldn’t stop trying.

I really do try to be a supportive sister, so I wasn’t going to go and rat her out to Mom and Dad… but if she didn’t stop, I just had no idea what I was going to do.

Maybe some sleazy manager had offered her a deal or something. Rachael and I are both pretty attractive—I bet a lot of people would pay a lot of money to watch two sisters make out.

Or, I don’t know, maybe this was just part of the coming out process, testing boundaries or something like that.

Because the alternative was that my sister truly, actually wanted me, and I didn’t want to think about that. If my sister was really attracted to me, really trying to… nope!

I wasn’t going to think about it. Simple as that.

This had definitely been one of the weakest attempts. She wanted to ‘practice making out’ like either of us needed it. I was twenty years old, I’d been dating for years, and even though my sister was a year younger than me and had only been out for eighteen months, she’d had more than a dozen girlfriends then. And based on the sounds I’d involuntarily heard through our shared wall, they were going way further than just making out in there.

I’d been surprised that Mom and Dad had been cool with it. I knew they’d flip if I had a guy over. I guess they wanted to be supportive LGBT parents… and the lack of pregnancy risk was probably a factor.

“Oh no, no,” she said, and I rolled my eyes. She acted like this every time I called her out. Like, “Oh, no, I was just seeing if you wanted to,” or “Hey, it was just a joke.” Each time, she’d look at me like she was just trying to find the exact right combination of words that would convince me.

It was ridiculous, and I was starting to really get sick of it.

“What?” I said, crossing my arms.

“I’m not gay,” she said. And there it was again—that close look as if she was testing keys until she found the one that fit.

“What? What do you mean you’re not gay?”

“I’m not gay,” she repeated, leaning in with a small smile. “No, no, you’ve misunderstood. I was doing it for a boy.”

My mouth fell open.

“… what?”

“I was doing it for a boy,” she repeated, a note of triumph in her voice. My head was spinning.

“But I thought… I thought you…"

“Come on,” she said with a soft laugh. “You didn’t really… you didn’t really believe that, did you? No, you must know how boys are. They love their lesbian porn.”

“Well, yeah,” I said slowly, still mentally coping with the bombshell Rachael had just dropped on me. “I mean, yeah, but you’re…"

“I’m not gay,” she said again. “No, that was all just to impress a boy.”

I blinked twice. God… it all made so much sense. I’d never really had much trouble getting a boyfriend—but Rachael had been single until she’d come out last year. I’d thought that was because… y’know, she was gay… but no, of course.

She must have been struggling to date until she’d come up with this whole ’pretend to be a lesbian’ plan.

She’d done it for a boy.

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Except…

“Hang on,” I said thoughtfully. “Which boy?”

Ever since Rachael came out, I don’t think I’d seen her spend more than a few minutes with anyone of the male persuasion. But she’d spent a lot—and I mean a lot—of time with women.

“That’s just it,” she said after a moment’s pause. “It isn’t working. That’s why I need your help.”

I crinkled my forehead.

“Please?” she continued. “It’s for a boy.”

Before I knew what was happening, I was nodding earnestly. “I’ll help you,” I said without hesitation. I was so, so satisfied with my boyfriend Martin—I’d do anything to bring my sister a similar level of happiness.

“Great,” she said, looking triumphant. God, she must really like this guy. “Let’s do it here.”

I nodded and patted the space beside me on the bed. Rachael sat down, practically glowing with excitement.

“Okay,” I said. “So, I mean… every guy likes it differently, but you want to avoid the common mistakes. Firstly…—“

“I’m more of a hands-on learner,” my sister interrupted. “Why don’t you show me, and then we can talk about it later if you have any questions.”

“Of course,” I nodded. God, I was really glad she’d cleared up the whole ‘lesbian’ thing—if I’d still thought she was gay, I would have been super suspicious of her desire to jump straight into making out without so much as discussing technique.

But she’d been very clear—this whole thing was for a boy—and without hesitation, I leaned forward until my lips met hers.

Rachael’s lips were soft, and they parted as soon as mine made contact. Her warm tongue poked out, making its way into my mouth. Part of me wanted to stop, to tell her that she was moving too fast… but honestly, I’d never been with a guy who was going to complain about someone as hot as my sister coming on too strong.

So, instead of pulling back, I used my tongue to caress hers and moved my hands onto her waist.

Rachael clearly took that as an invitation because soon, her hands were roaming my body. Whoever the guy was, he must have had really high standards—my sister was an excellent kisser, and despite being as straight as they come, I could feel my body beginning to react.

Not in a weird way, of course. Just… like bodies do, y’know? If you’re kissing someone, and they’re touching you, and they’re really good at it, you’re going to get a little turned on. That’s just basic human nature, right?

My eyebrows shot up as I felt my sister’s hands go underneath my sweater. And they didn’t stop there—she untucked my shirt, and soon I could feel Rachael’s fingers tracing patterns on my bare skin.

I didn’t say anything—I figured this must be helping her—and she took that as an invitation to go further. Soon, Rachael was doing more than just caressing my skin; my sister began grabbing me hungrily, as if she’d lusted after me for years and was finally getting her chance to have me.

Her nails dug into me—it hurt a little, but I didn’t mine. Again, I find that guys rarely object to passion, and the way my sister touched me… whoever the guy was, I’m sure he wouldn’t object if she did the same to him.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, pulling back from the kiss. Rachael’s right hand had reached behind my back and undone my bra.

“Guys don’t wear bras,” she said.

Oh, right. Duh.

I nodded, blushing.

“Aren’t you going to take mine off?” she continued.

“Hmm?”

“If I was making out with a dude, wouldn’t he try to take my bra off?”

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered. “Probably.”

I suddenly felt uncomfortable with what we were doing. I’d said I’d show her how to make out, not… strip down.

“Then we should do that,” Rachael said earnestly. “If we’re really doing this for a boy.”

“Of course,” I nodded enthusiastically, all my worries were suddenly gone. I leaned back in and continued making out with my sister. It took me a minute to get the clasp undone—I wasn’t used to doing it from that angle—but soon, Rachael’s bra was undone, and I was working on getting it out from under her clothing.

It was harder than I’d expected. Suddenly, I had a lot more respect for the two or three guys who had managed to take mine off with far less difficulty.

Once the bra was out of the way, I tried to imagine what my sister’s crush would do—my hands began mirroring hers, roaming around her body, grasping and pinching and scratching slightly with my nails.

Whoops. I guess a boy wouldn’t have nails as long as mine. Still, from Rachael’s reaction, I could tell she was enjoying it.

I pulled back again a few moments later when her hands moved to my breasts.

“Uh, sis?”

“Mm-hmm?” she said, sounding spacey.

“Your boy won’t have boobs like mine.”

“No one has boobs like yours,” she said admiringly.

“Thanks, but…"

“Oh, right,” she said, then paused to think. “Well, he’ll have a chest, won’t he?”

“Yeah, but…—“

“So we’ll just pretend your boobs are his chest. Do guys like having their nipples sucked?”

Her question distracted me from what felt like pretty thin logic, and I nodded after a moment’s thought. “A lot of them.”

“Great,” she said with a smile and lifted my shirt.

I wanted to object—we were just meant to be practicing making out, after all—but it had quickly become clear that my sister didn’t need much practice in that area, and I wanted to do whatever I could to help her out.

Soon, I was gasping and writhing as my sister’s mouth met my sensitive nipples. I briefly wondered if her nipples were erogenous zones as well and if that was how she knew exactly how to manipulate mine, but her skilled mouth was so distracting that it was hard to focus on more than one thing at once.

I tried hard to concentrate on why we were doing this: for a boy. For a boy. It was for a boy.

“Take your top off,” she growled, and I hastened to oblige. It had been uncomfortably bunched up around my neck for several minutes at that point… and it made total sense. Whenever I’m making out with Martin, I try to get him topless as quickly as possible. There’s something so hot about feeling his skin pressed up against mine.

I couldn’t wait until my sister could feel that with her crush.

I pulled my shirt off and saw that my sister had done the same. She really was going for the full boyfriend experience… God, I hoped it would help.

“Now kiss me,” she instructed, and I didn’t hesitate, gently lowering her head onto my pillow and moving my mouth to hers. It wasn’t completely realistic, if I’m being honest—my tits hung down in a way that most boys’ chests certainly wouldn’t—but I tried to stay in character.

I could feel my body getting flushed as I made out with my sister, my hands running up and down her bare back as hers moved onto my jeans, firmly grabbing my ass. Part of me started to worry that I wasn’t being particularly helpful—so far, none of what she’d done would be a problem with most guys. How much was I really helping?

I tried to banish the thought, breaking off our kiss and moving my mouth to my sister’s nipples. It was tempting to return the favor and use my knowledge of my own sensitivities to bring Rachael as much pleasure as possible, but I decided to act the part of a boy and chew on them clumsily.

“What are you doing?” she asked, and I removed my mouth from her nipple to explain.

“No,” she whined. “Do it… do it properly.”

“How will that help?” I asked, confused.

I watched for almost a minute as my sister considered my question. The only sound in my bedroom was the sound of us both heavily panting from the intensity of the coaching session.

“He’ll find it really hot,” she eventually concluded.

“What do you mean?”

“The guy I like. Like I said… guys love lesbians. Well, even hotter than that is lesbian sisters.”

“But I’m not a lesbian,” I pointed out.

“Neither am I, silly,” Rachael said with a laugh. “Remember? I’m just doing it for a boy.”

“For a boy,” I echoed. Her plan made total sense. I’d always found it creepy the way guys had tried to get my sister and me to make out… but if she wanted to attract this boy, I couldn’t think of a better way.

If he thought that Rachael was a lesbian, she’d be unattainable to him. There’s nothing as hot as what we can’t have.

And if he thought that she was having sex with her sister…

Yeah. It was hard to deny it… there was probably no guy in the world who wouldn’t get into that.

“We don’t have to really have sex, though, do we?” I asked. “Couldn’t you just tell him we had?”

“I can’t lie to him,” Rachael replied, shocked.

I squinted at her.

“Doesn’t he think you’re a lesbian?”

“I told you,” she said quickly. “I was just doing that for a boy.”

As the last three words reverberated through my head, I lost my train of thought. What had I been saying?

It didn’t matter. If this was what Rachael needed to get her boy, I’d do whatever I could to help her. After all, wasn’t that what sisters are for?

My mind made up, I leaned back down and went to work on my sister’s nipples. Rachael shivered with pleasure at my attention, her hips twitching with arousal, telling me I was doing it right.

“Touch me,” she groaned. “Touch my pussy…"

Part of me wanted to object, to remind her for the umpteenth time that I wasn’t gay…

But, of course, neither was she. How many times had she told me?

It was for a boy.

God, I thought as I helped her remove her jeans. I hope her boy finds this hot. It would be so awkward if we ended up hooking up for nothing.

My hands were on her hips as my digits did everything that I wished Martin would do to me when we hooked up.

Oh, shit. Martin. Was I… was this cheating on him? We’d agreed to be exclusive almost a year ago, and since then, I haven’t looked at anyone else as much. But here I was, doing everything I could to pleasure my sister…

No, I immediately realized. No, this didn’t count.

It was for a boy.

“God, sis,” Rachael panted. “Your fingers feel soooo good…"

I can generally tell when my boyfriend is about to cum, and of course, I know my own warning signs. But I had no idea how to read my sister’s body.

Her hand moved to the front of my jeans, and as it pressed against my hot crotch, I could feel her entire body beginning to shake. It was as though just feeling how turned on I was (and I had to admit, this whole experience had gotten me way more worked up than I’d expected) had triggered her orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum,” she moaned. “Oh, fuck, sis… I’m gonna cum!”

My sister’s body shook with pleasure, and she twitched so hard I thought she might buck me off the bed. When she was done, I smiled down at her.

“That was great,” I said, and she looked confused as I moved to get up from the bed.

“You want to stop?”

“Well, yeah,” I replied, my tone echoing my sister’s. “We did it. We had sex… once your boy hears about this, he’s going to be all over you.”

My sister’s head tilted to the side, and she smiled wickedly.

“You know what would be even hotter?” she said, and I stared blankly at her. “What if this wasn’t a one-off?”

“Rachael…" I protested. God, this was so typical of my sister. If you give her a cookie, she’ll take a mile.

“Just hear me out,” she replied confidently. “It would be so hot if we weren’t just sisters who’d hooked up once. What if we were sisters who couldn’t keep their hands off each other? What if every time we were alone, we were trying to strip each other off, to get each other naked and get each other off?”

“I’m sure he’d like that,” I replied weakly, but Rachael cut me off before I could finish the thought.

“And I know this guy—he’d find it so hot if it was more than hooking up. He’d find it so, so hot if you were my slave.”

I held up a hand, trying to shut her up. I’d been happy to help her this once, but what she was suggesting… it was ludicrous. It was so far from anything I’d be comfortable doing. I couldn’t just…

“If you were my live-in sex slave,” she continued. “Your boyfriend would have no idea—to him, you’d be his supporting, loving girlfriend. But we’d both know that you were mine. You’d service my every sexual need; you’d become an expert at getting me off. Your body would be mine to use whenever I wanted. Your tongue would exist to find my clit, to get me off. Maybe I’d share you with other women. You’d have this whole secret life that your boyfriend doesn’t know about: as a piece of lesbian chattel.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “I mean, obviously I’m not going to…—“

“It’s for a boy,” Rachael reminded me. “All of it—your new life, your new role. You’ll live it, twenty-four-seven, serving as my slave every hour of every day… because all of it’s for a boy.”

I nodded immediately, of course. How could I not?

“Good,” Rachael said. “Now, slave… get naked.”

I tried to get into character. What exactly had my sister said? I’d be playing the part of her slave, constantly taking care of her sexual needs. I’d need to do a lot of research to make sure I was being convincing. It would suck if we put all this effort in, and he saw through it somehow.

As I stepped out of my jeans, I wondered if there was a guide online somewhere to improve at eating pussy. That would probably be a good start.

“Good slave,” my sister purred. She’d gotten into it so fast—she must have known precisely what her crush was into. “Now, undress me.”

I supposed that was a little harder—something else I’d have to get used to. How long would we have to do this? How long would it take for Rachael’s beau to spot what was happening? It could be days, weeks, months…

Years…

I shook my head at that. No, that would be ridiculous. If it went on for years, I’d have to…—

“Now,” my sister said, clearly enjoying our joint nudity. “Let’s put that slave tongue to work.”

I nodded, crawling (I figured my sister’s future boyfriend would enjoy that) across my bed and moving my head between Rachael’s legs. I kept my snatch shaven, but my sister was sporting a full bush. If I’d known that during the makeout lesson, I probably would have said something… but now, I couldn’t question her. I was her slave.

I mean, not really. Just… y’know. For a boy.

Though I’d never gone down on a woman before (again, see: straight), I just did exactly what I’d done with my sister’s nipples and just… did what I wished others would do to me. To my relief, Rachael didn’t seem to have any complaints—after just a minute or two of my tongue exploring her folds and thrumming against her clit; I could feel her cumming again, her entire body tensing up at the second orgasm I’d given her that day.

“Your turn,” she said, pushing me down on the bed. For a moment, something felt wrong about the situation. Not just the fact that she was my sister—she was now (acting as) my mistress.

It didn’t quite seem right for a dominant to go down on a submissive. But then I remembered why we were doing it…

If the guy Rachael liked was somehow watching us at that moment (I hadn’t thought to ask exactly how he was going to know about any of what we were doing), he was sure to find it hot as hell for Rachael to pleasure me, just as I’d pleasured her.

And hell, I didn’t know much about BDSM relationships. Maybe this was exactly how it all went down.

I closed my eyes and thought of Martin. It wasn’t long at all before my sister’s tongue brought me off, my hips rising from the bed as I came.

For the next hour or so, we just cuddled in my bed. She looked so happy as I held her tight and stroked her hair. This was something she’d wanted for a long, long time.

I had no idea who her guy was, but if this were how Rachael looked just thinking about him, I’d do anything I could to get them together.

At the sound of our parents arriving home, I sat upright in shock. Oh, god—they couldn’t find us like this. They’d never understand. In fact, all of a sudden I was struggling to understand. Rachael was my sister. She shouldn’t… we couldn’t…

“It’s for a boy,” my sibling gently reminded me, and I was immediately calmed. Of course. We were doing this for a boy.

But still, if we were discovered…

“I want you to get me off again,” my sister ordered. I looked at her in shock—if Mom and Dad walked in, we’d be…

“Now,” Rachael added, and I remembered my role.

“Yes, mistress,” I responded immediately, moving my head to her aromatic pussy. I’d always enjoyed the smell of my kitty, and my sister’s was very similar.

“Girls?”

I wanted to lift my head or hide under the blanket, but Rachael’s hand was firmly keeping me exactly where I was, so I continued diligently licking her.

For a boy. For a boy. I was doing this for a boy.

“What are you doing?” my mother asked in shock, and this time, my sister’s grasp loosened, allowing me to emerge from between her legs, a guilty look on my face. My Dad stepped up behind her, his mouth falling open at the sight before him.

They’d always accepted my sister’s sexual proclivities, but this was clearly too much for them—as it had been for me until that morning.

“Don’t worry,” Rachael said calmly, and I became the third member of our family to acquire a look of bewilderment. “I’ve already done my homework.”

I didn’t see what that had to do with anything, but our mother visibly relaxed at my sister’s words.

“And don’t worry, Dad,” she added. “It won’t cost you anything.”

Dad’s worried look disappeared as well.

“Well, in that case, we’ll let you get back to it,” Mom said with a smile. “Get those grades up!”

“As long as it doesn’t cost anything!” Dad added.

Their reactions made no sense to me, but before I could question it, my sister’s hand was once more guiding my head between her legs.

As our parents—both beaming—left for their bedroom, my mouth returned to my sister’s wet, waiting patch of hair.

God, I hoped this worked. My sister would be so happy once she finally got her man.