My Brother, Mary, , Pound Cake

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Sally’s brother has interviews, and he crashes at her place

This story contains some group sex scenes.

I was to start graduate school in a week and I had just moved into university run housing. It was nice, cheerful housing, and I was enjoying getting all set up in my apartment, arranging the furniture and wishing the closets were bigger. The kitchen was decent and the oven looked nice, particularly important in my case because I use baking to de-stress. I give away the goodies I bake, since otherwise I would be as fat as a house. As it is, my figure is just the way I want it to be. I’m pretty scrupulous about my eating and exercise habits.

My bedroom shared a wall with the bedroom of the apartment next to me. I discovered, to my chagrin, that the wall was mighty thin and noise passed through it as a knife goes through warm butter. As I went to sleep that night, I lay awake listening to a woman next door thoroughly enjoying her sex with some stud.

I had to meet the guy who lived next door who could drive some slut to such sexual highs! He really knew, judging from the sounds, exactly how to please a girl. And boy, was the slut he had taken home noisy! That girl could really moan. And he lived right next door? What good fortune. Maybe I didn’t have to stay so lonely?

I knew nobody in the entire university town, let alone a man I wanted to take home with me. The next door moaning just made me feel my loneliness more intensely. I decided I had to meet this stud. The next day when I was making brownies I decided to go next door to borrow some sugar. I changed into sexy clothes. Why not? I had plenty of sugar, but I wanted an excuse to meet the next-door stud, and first impressions can be important. I brought an empty measuring cup with me.

His slut answered the door and boy was she dressed like a slut, too, in a robe that barely covered the lady bits of her naked body under the robe.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Sally. I live next door, just moved in, and I’m baking. I wonder if your boyfriend could lend me a cup of sugar?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Sally. I myself can lend you one, though. I’m Mary, pleased to meet you,” she said.

“Oh!” I said, doubtless blushing in my embarrassment. “I thought it was a man who lives here. Pleased to meet you, too,” and I took her proffered hand as we shook hands.

“I don’t know why you thought that. Sexist assumptions and habits are hard to break, I guess,” she said. “I did have a man over last night; maybe it confused you?”

“Yes, yes it did. My humble apologies. Lucky you, Mary. I know nobody here, least of all a man I could take home,” and I giggled nervously. Mary gestured for me to come in and it did not take long for us to become friends. I returned home, and finished baking my two sets of brownies. I continued unpacking and turned on the tube, mostly for background noise.

That night not only did I hear Mary’s moans again, but this time her bed was rocking, too, and her head was banging against the wall. Now I really, seriously wanted to see who this stud was who was driving Mary to nightly orgasms, so I rang her bell at 8AM the next day.

My ploy worked, and a groggy man came to the door, wearing only shorts. God, what a hunk! Mary could really choose her men. As I opened the door, I heard Mary yell, “Who is it, Marvin?”

“Goddam bitch! My name is Elliott, not Marvin. Do I LOOK like a Marvin? Christ bitch, I know we just met last night, but if you want me ever to fuck you again, learn my fucking name!”

I kind of shrank from the door, as obscenities flowed out of the bedroom and soon Mary appeared, half naked, and she threw his shoe at him, hitting him squarely in the head. His second shoe followed, as she screamed at him to leave and never come back!

I noticed Mary had great boobs, which was hard not to notice as they were uncovered and they bounced around. As Elliott (not Marvin) stormed away, Mary noticed me, and said, “Hi Debbie. Come on in. Good riddance to Marvin! No, oh wait, maybe he was right. Marvin was last week. Shit, I need some coffee. Wanna cup? We can drop together?”

“Uh, I’m Sally, but Debbie’s fine, if you prefer to call me that,” I said. “Yes, please, to the coffee.” I liked the idea of ‘dropping coffee’ together.

“Sorry, Sally. I’m not good with names. Maybe you’ve already realized that after Marvin, or Edward, or whatever the fuck he calls himself, stormed out of here just now?”

“I brought some brownies. Want one with your coffee?” I was shrinking from the anger and contempt floating around, and tried to change the subject.

“You bet! Hey, thanks, Sally!” Subject changed. Mood changed. Yay, me!

“There’s two kinds,” I said. “The ones on the green plate are normal brownies. The ones on the red plate are a little kinky, and you shouldn’t use heavy machinery right after eating them.”

“Oooh, Sally, we’re going to be great friends!” Mary said, as she took a brownie from the red plate. I certainly hoped so. I could use a friend.

Tasting şirinevler escort one, I saw Mary’s eyes get big. “You can really bake, girl!”

“Thanks,” I said, shyly looking at my feet.

“Can you bake anything else even remotely this good?” Mary asked. She was clearly impressed with the brownies.

“I’m told my pound cake is out of this world,” I said.

“Going to make some soon?” Mary asked. “I truly love pound cake.”

“I only make it when I fall in love,” I said.

Mary giggled. “Would a fuck with some handsome hunk, that blew your mind, motivate a pound cake?”

“You know, it might. It just might. I haven’t had a fuck like that in a long, long time, however. A very long time,” I said. “It would have to knock my socks off, you know?”

“Would you then bake the poundcake barefoot?” Mary said, still giggling.

“Shit, girl, I’d bake in the altogether, especially if the man were still there, watching!” I said.

“I want a piece of that pound cake,” Mary said.

“Only after the handsome hunk gets a piece of my ass,” I giggled. “Anyway, that does not seem imminent, I guess. Remember, patience is a virtue,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s what they always say. I say patience is for the birds. It’s a ploy to get you to accept crap, always waiting for the good that comes later, and in truth may never come!” Mary said. Whoa. Now it was my turn to giggle.

“Hey, my brownies aren’t crap,” I said.

“Not the point. Now that you mention it, though, what else have you got in that sweet little mind that doubles as a cookbook?” Mary asked.

“Would an apple crumble keep you going until some stud lays me and knocks my socks off?” I asked.

Mary licked her lips in reply. “Chocolate chip cookies on the menu?”

“How banal. But sure. I put just a touch of candied ginger in them. You’re gonna love ’em,” I said.

“Can I lick the bowl?” Mary asked.

“Sorry, girl. Only people who fuck me first get to lick the bowl, and my brother too, who is grandfather in from our childhood,” I said.

“I’ll buy a dildo, to lick one of your bowls,” she said.

“You do that, girl. Be prepared to lick me as well if you go down that road,” I said. Mary smiled, and her eyes twinkled.

Mary and I got in the habit of checking in with each other on a daily basis, but only on weekdays. The weekends Mary went out to cruise the bar scene and always brought a man home with her. I got to/had to listen to the sex when I went to bed. I never mentioned it to Mary. It was every single bleeping Friday night, come hell or high water.

I knew there was something wrong with Mary, probably some trauma buried in her past, that required her to get seriously drunk and to fuck essentially random men on Friday nights. Was it an old but never forgotten rape? Was it some molestation by a priest, a friend of the family, her father? Maybe it was “only” a date rape? That had happened to me and half the girls I knew. Some girls it really destroyed. Others shrugged it off. Most were in between.

I also knew it was none of my business. Finally, I also knew that being a Comparative Literature student meant that my mind was full of such nonsense, and in reality, I actually “knew” nothing at all. It would make a good story, but that’s all it was.

I bought headphones, but found to my chagrin I somewhat masochistically and voyeuristically preferred to listen to Mary’s moans of sexual ecstasy than to listen to my playlists, even my better playlists.

The time came when Mary asked if I wanted to join her at the bar scene. It was December and I was caught up in my work, and my sex life was solidly and hopelessly in its winter hibernation mode, having just endured its fall hibernation mode. Before that was my summer hibernation mode despite a one-night stand when I wore a bikini to the beach. Actually it was more of an afternoon stand in a remote corner of the beach, hee,hee.

It had been both nerve wracking and hopelessly sexy to let a guy get me naked and have his way with me on the beach, potentially fully exposed to any passerby. I think the guy, whom I had only met hours earlier, was just as nervous; maybe more so? Women are perhaps more accustomed to displaying their bodies than are men. For men, it’s all about their cocks, and this guy’s cock, which did the job nicely, was nevertheless small. My guess is that he wanted to fuck me all right, but he didn’t want anyone else to see his tiny cock. It was too bad, because I could have used a nice, naked cuddle afterwards, and then maybe a round two, you know? He just ran away, without even bothering to get my coordinates. Still, I find the memory wonderful, and it is a staple of my masturbation fantasies.

My fantasy is that right after he dresses and runs away, while I’m still lying there in my typical post orgasmic partial coma, another man comes strolling along the beach, looking for shells, and finds me instead, a recently ravaged, naked and sexy woman, şirinevler elit escort still with a slight sex flush about my inviting body. He sits down next to me, we talk for a while, and then nature takes it course and my reward is my much desired “round two.” He becomes my lover for the rest of the summer. Hey, it’s my fantasy! Why not?

Those thoughts, memories, and fantasies flashed through my mind, and they led to a What-the-Hell attitude. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. This led, of course to my joining Mary. Perhaps at this point I should give descriptions of us.

I’m a normal looking woman of 23 years. I don’t consider myself to be especially pretty or sexy, but I’m pleasant looking enough. I figure my legs are my best feature, so I always get them waxed and wear pretty hosiery and short skirts. My mother would say I wear much too short skirts, and she does say it, too, but what the blazes does she know, anyway? I use eye makeup liberally, but I think I look nice and in good taste nevertheless, and not at all like a streetwalker as my father is much too fond of saying.

Mary in contrast is really out there. She’s at the bleeding edge. She has boobs that attract second looks: Big, but not too big, and most certainly none too small, either. She does not buy cheap bras, and she always looks good. She uses way too much mascara, eye shadow and blush even for my taste, and her makeup is thick, but it’s her body jewelry and blue hair streaks that steal the show. That night she wore a skirt that was little more than crotch length. In short, she was hot to trot.

Compared to her, I looked as if I were preparing to apply to a nunnery.

We went to a local bar and in short order we left it. We didn’t even have time for a drink.

“What’s wrong, Mary?” I asked.

“I saw at least five guys in there whom I’ve already taken home. I’m not ready to face that. Men talk, you know. They’ll join forces and want a gangbang or something,” Mary said, and she actually physically shivered at the idea. It was the way her body shivered that got me interested.

“Ever done anything like that?” I asked, trying to make it sound casual, you know?

“Like what?”

“A gang bang?”

“No, of course not! What do you think I am?” Mary said.

“Sorry, just thinking out loud, I guess. Where shall we go now?” I said, trying to change the subject and hide my faux pas.

“Have you ever done it? I don’t know much about your sex life, Sally,” Mary said, not letting the gangbang subject drop.

“That’s because since I got here, I haven’t had a sex life,” I said, except of course for my vicarious one listening to you get fucked every Friday night, I silently thought. I figured that would end it.

“You brought it up. Have you ever had a gang bang, Sally? You have, haven’t you?” Mary asked, not letting it go.

“There’s another bar two blocks up the street. Want to try that one?” I asked, now desperately trying to change the subject.

“Oh, my goodness, Sally. You’ve actually had a gang bang, haven’t you?! That’s amazing! Tell me the details, please. I absolutely have to hear all about it!” Mary persisted.

“I thought we were out to cruise the bars, maybe meet some nice men?” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, but first you have to tell me about your gangbang! I can’t believe I know someone like you. You’re becoming a better and better friend. C’mon, tell all, girl. I need to know. How many men were there?” Mary would not let it go.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It was a long time ago, okay?” I said.

“Just tell me how many men? Please? Hey, we’re friends here, Sally,” Mary said.

“Three. Three men, okay? Are you happy now?”

“Yes. You have all sorts of surprises, don’t you, you little vixen. Here’s the bar. This one should be okay. How many men are you taking home tonight?” Mary asked.

“Zero or one, and you know that. Please stop it, Mary,” I said.

Mary just giggled. “One more question, and I’m done for the night. When did it happen?”

“Sophomore year. Three years ago, okay?” I said. “It was never repeated.” Mary looked at me with awe and admiration. I thought she was nuts.

Mary would not let it go.

“It was like this. I was at a party, and as luck would have it, three of my former lovers were there, too. Jordan was chatting me up, and I was drunk and horny, so when he led me off to a bedroom I thought, “Why not?”

“We ran into Zeke on the way to the bedroom, and we three chatted a while, and then Jordan again led me off, but this time Zeke followed us, pinching my ass as we walked. At some point Mike found us; I don’t remember how he joined, but I ended up giggling in a bedroom with three horny guys, all of whom had enjoyed my body on previous occasions,” I explained.

“The sexy details, please!” Mary said.

“I’ll give you a choice. Sexy details now, or I’ll bake an apple crumble tomorrow,” I said.

“Oh, you’re mean! How about a pound şirinevler escort cake tomorrow?”

“You know the rules. I have to get the fuck from heaven tonight to bake a pound cake. Sorry, Mary,” I replied.

“Okay, apple crumble tomorrow it is,” she said, and we entered the bar.

“Hi ladies, can we buy you a drink?” a guy at the bar said, approaching us, almost immediately upon our entry to the bar.

“Honey, you can buy us all the drinks you want,” Mary said, smiling at him seductively.

That night Mary took home two men and I took home none. Instead I listened to the goings on through the wall, as was now my custom. Also, I wanted to make sure Mary was safe, and that she could handle two men at once. I needn’t have worried. I masturbated with an intensity that set a new high for me.

It was about a month later my brother Sean arrived. He’s two years older than I am, and he needed a place to stay while he interviewed for jobs in the area. We were always close, so he stayed with me. I slept in my bed, and he used the sofa bed. When Friday night rolled around, he took me out for dinner, since I had been feeding him all week.

After dinner I proposed going to the bar I had cruised with Mary, and off we went. Some of the guys who had bought me drinks and didn’t score with me were there again, but they behaved. Besides, nobody messes with my brother. He has that air about him of pure, unadulterated masculinity. Smart men don’t pick fights with my brother.

Mary wasn’t there, and eventually, with a nice buzz on us, we headed home. Around 11PM the sex games next door began, and I told my brother to come into my bedroom for some entertainment. He had met Mary already, so he could use his imagination to accompany the moans and giggles coming through the wall. I was already in my nightgown and he was in his pajamas.

My nightgown is sexy. It’s short, and it offers extensive peaks of my boobs, always keeping my nipples hidden, of course, even if not much else is hidden! I have it for the rare times I get lucky. It was no big deal to wear it around my brother, though. He’s a brother, not a man. I noticed, however, that he had noticed.

It suddenly dawned on me that while I was used to Mary’s moans, groans, and exhortations, it was hyper suggestive for my brother and I to be listening to them while sitting on my bed with me scantily clothed, both of us a little drunk, and it being late at night. It dawned on me most emphatically that it was suggestive when I saw the rather large tent in my brother’s pajama pants.

“Let’s give Mary some privacy now,” I said, rising from the bed and moving to the living room, trying to defuse the situation.

“I’ll stay here a little longer,” Sean said, his ear to the wall.

I shrugged, my boobs no doubt bouncing due to the absence of a bra. I went to the living room and turned on the TV. Sean came out later and headed straight for the bathroom. When he emerged, his erection was gone. I just smiled. Men.

The next Friday night Sean needed no invitation. He came into my bedroom and just hopped up on the bed with me in order to listen to Mary having sex next door. He now knew, because I had told him, that Mary had noisy sex every Friday night, and most of her men lasted only one or two weeks. There was one guy who lasted four Fridays in a row, and she clearly liked him. Then she learned he also had a different girl for Saturday nights, and he was toast. Mary got drunker than I had ever seen her get before, and I contemplated taking her to the ER, but it turned out okay.

Sean was fascinated by Mary and her sexual sound effects on the weekends, and in particular on Friday nights. “Do you ever try to compete with Mary? I’ll bet you can moan during sex even better than her?”

“Sean! That’s no kind of question for your sister!” I said.

“I’ll bet you haven’t had sex since you’ve got here, have you?” Sean said.

“Shut your mouth, Sean. I’m putting you up, and cooking your meals. Disrespect me like that and you’re out of here!” I replied, and my tone of voice was unfriendly.

I no longer invited Sean into the bedroom on weekend nights for Mary’s sound effects, as man after man pleasured her with their mouths, hands, and of course their cocks. I heard it all, and I got lonelier and lonelier, hornier and hornier. Worse I could no longer hunt for men I might want to take home, because Sean was there, cramping whatever meagre style I had. I was doomed.

I wondered why Mary did it? Why did she need to get drunk every weekend night and pick up a man to distract herself with sex? What old trauma was driving this self-destructive behavior? I tried to discuss it with my brother Sean, but all he said was, “Jesus, Sally, you really do sound like a Comparative Literature grad student. Mary is your friend, not a character in a Maya Angelou novel!” I found Sean’s remarks offensive. I gave up discussing it with Sean, and kept my ruminations to myself. Mostly.

What I really wanted to do was to provide some analogous entertainment for Mary. She owned the weekends, so maybe I could find somebody during the week? I could send Sean out to the movies, to have some privacy? No, that wouldn’t work: No movie was long enough. I thought up a plan. I knew just the guy for my plan, too. It might just work, if I was lucky!

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