Author: Siscentis
Title: A Helping Hand from an Overly-Nice Sister
Part: Part 1
Summary: With an injured brother near his wit's end, Mandy is
just too nice a sister not to help out.
Keywords: inc, mf, cons, handjob


Copyright © by the Author, 2015

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"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."