My name is Maddy, age 25. I have this “relationship” with Kagney, my sister. She is two years older than me and goes by Kags. We live together in Chicago about 100 miles from where we grew up. After moving in together at first to save money, we somehow became lovers. Nearly everyone that knows us in the big city thinks we are a married couple.

Kags is 5 feet and 8 inches tall, 121 pounds, 27 years old. Long blonde hair. Big tits. Amaaazing ass! To say the least, we have an affectionate relationship. That is, she is affectionate towards me. For me…well…I just fucking love her! In addition, I’m more than a bit of a weakling when it comes to standing up to her, and I always defer to her in everyday life. It’s like this…she’s the boss! Get the picture?

The kicker is that Kags, even though she looks like the kind of girl who would fuck you all day, doesn't let me fuck her. She lets me eat her pussy and that is all...eat and suck her pussy and appear to be her studly boyfriend, that is, when she has time for me.

She loves to dress provocatively and likes to flirt with other men, which compounds my frustrations. Some of her female friends know the real story of our relationship, but I don't know which ones or how many.

One morning last week, the sun, which had barely risen, cast a glow over her naked body. Her long, blonde hair fanned out over the pillow beneath her. She was sprawled across the bed, one leg hiked up, revealing the curve of her ass and the sweet divide between her thighs. I lay there for a moment, my eyes tracing her body. I loved her. Loving her was my fate.

For her part, she appreciated me whenever she took the trouble to really notice me. I wasn’t allowed to penetrate her. “Keep it in your pants, Maddy, I can’t bear even thinking about that part of you,” she would say. That was the longstanding understanding between us. Eating her pussy was all I was good for. She kept the rest for her real boyfriends.

Carefully, I slid out of bed, my cock already at half-mast from the mere sight of her. I knew what my duties were, and I performed them with the dedication of a monk to his vows. I was the keeper of her idle pleasures, the one whose job was to provide her with at least some of her sexual and emotional needs, and there were many days when her only need from me was being able to get off when I licked her pussy.

I padded quietly to the bathroom, my bare feet cold against the floor, and turned on the shower. As the water warmed, I took a moment to gaze at my reflection in the mirror. I had a nice body. I really was a nice-looking guy. Some girls liked me and thought I was charming, but I just didn’t have the rizz that could make a hot girl’s heart leap.

When the water was just right, I stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray wash over me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, steeling myself for the day ahead. This wasn't about me, I reminded myself. She was way out of my league. The whole thing was about her. It was always about her. Okay? I soaped up my hands, the scent of her favorite lavender body wash filling my nose, and I began to stroke my cock, getting it ready for the task ahead. I knew I wouldn't be using it, but the act was almost ritualistic at this point, a silent promise that I was ready to make her love me as if I were that kind of guy should the situation ever arise.

I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying off quickly before making my way back to the bedroom. Kags stirred as I approached the bed, her eyes fluttering open. She stretched languidly, her tremendous breasts rising and falling with the movement. It was the Kags stretch. She really ought to have it trademarked. "Good morning, baby," she murmured, a sleepy smile playing on her lips. "I've been waiting for you."

She didn't need to say more; I knew what was expected of me. I dropped the towel and slid into bed beside her, my cock standing at full attention despite the knowledge that it would remain untouched. She rolled onto her back, her legs parting slightly, and I could already see her glistening wetness.

"How was your day yesterday?" she asked, as if we were just any other couple enjoying a lazy Sunday morning.

"It was fine," I replied, leaning in to kiss her neck, my teeth grazing her sensitive skin. "How about yours?"

"Oh, you know," she sighed, arching her back to press her breasts against my chest. "Just the usual."

We chatted for a few minutes, our conversation a dance around the inevitable. Then, she reached down and took my hand, guiding it between her legs. "I need you," she whispered. Her voice was husky with desire. "Make me feel good, Maddy. Make me feel pretty. Make your sister feel pretty."

And so, I did. With all the love and passion I could muster, I buried my face between her legs, inhaling the scent that sprang from her. I parted her curtains with my tongue, tasting her, drinking her in, and she moaned, her hands messing my hair. Her thighs tightened around my head, and I knew I was on my way. This was my place in her world, and I was lucky to have it.

I licked and sucked, my tongue exploring every inch of her pussy. She was so wet, so ready, and I took my time, savoring every moment. I wanted to be the only place where Kags could get such fine pussy-eating.

She writhed beneath me, her breath coming in gasps, her hips rising to meet my mouth. I could feel her building, her muscles tightening, and I worked her clit with an energy that was fueled by the longing in my own body. Her moans grew louder, filling the room, and I knew that soon she would be mine—or at least, as much of her as I was allowed to have.

Her legs began to tremble, and I quickened my pace, my tongue flicking and circling, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. "Oh God, Maddy," she moaned, her nails digging into my scalp. "You're so good. I love your mouth, baby. Yes, just like that."

I slid two fingers inside her, feeling her warmth, and she bucked against my hand. The walls of her pussy clenched around my fingers, and I knew she was close. I curled them slightly, hitting that spot deep within her that always made her scream, and she did, her body convulsing as she came. I lapped up her juice like a kitten, eager for every scintilla of the woman I adored. And loved.

After a moment, her breathing slowed, and she released my hair, her legs falling open. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice still thick with passion. "That was amazing, baby. You are the most amazing, baby!"

I kissed my way up her body, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the softness of her breasts, the beat of her heart. When I reached her lips, she kissed me back, fully, her taste still on my mouth.

It was a strange intimacy, one that was uniquely ours. And as we lay there, our bodies entwined, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. This was it for me, the pinnacle of our sexual connection. But for her, it was just another Sunday morning being adored.

Her hand slid down to my cock, stroking it gently. "I know you want more," she said, her voice soothing. Then she grew silent.

I nodded my head yes, my eyes never leaving hers.

With a sigh, she rolled over, presenting her back to me. "Just hold me, baby."

So…I was glad to do as she asked. I wrapped my arms around her, my erection pressing against her ass, and I held her close. I kissed the back of her neck, her shoulder, her spine, and she shivered in response. It was a bittersweet moment; one filled with both pleasure and pain.

But it was our sweet, shared moment, and I cherished it, even as the ache inside me grew, a constant reminder of the line she forbade me to cross. Seems like she did not forbid a lot of other guys, but she forbade me.

As we lay there, I couldn't help but wonder which of her friends knew about our arrangement. The thought made my cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I tried to push it aside. After all, this love of mine wasn't about the people outside our home; it was between Kags and me, end of story. I felt a strange mix of pride and humiliation at being her devoted pussy-eater, the man who could make her come with nothing more than my mouth and my love. It was a role I had accepted, and it was one that defined me.

We eventually got out of bed and started the day. Kags moved with the grace of a cat, her curves swaying as she walked to the kitchen to make breakfast. I couldn't help but watch her, my eyes drawn to the hemline of her robe where I peeked glances at the bottom of her ass. She knew I was looking, of course, and she didn't bother to cover herself. She was always nonchalant in regard to me.

As we ate, she told me about her plans for the day. She was having lunch with her friend Rachel, and a few of their friends. Rachel had always had a knowing look in her eye, one that made me squirm with discomfort. Did she know? Was she one of the ones who whispered behind my back? I didn't dare ask, but the thought lingered, a shadow over our meal. The thought of someone else knowing about my ineptitude tore me down.

It was always difficult to maintain the appearance of being Kags’s stud to keep up appearances. The thought of Rachel, or any of her friends, knowing my secret filled me with a mix of arousal and dread and rage. Would they look at me differently? Would I be able to tell that they knew? Would they see the desperation in my eyes, the hunger that never went away? Were they mocking me?

After breakfast, I helped her get ready, helping her choose an outfit that would make her look irresistible. As I drove her to the restaurant to meet her friends, my hand rested on her thigh, and she leaned over to kiss me, her breath hot against my ear. "Remember," she whispered, "you're the best at what you do, Maddy. That’s why I keep you around. Look at me, do I look like the kind of girl who would let someone like you fuck her? I don’t think so!” When she stepped out of the car, my eyes followed her, watching as she swayed her hips in a way that turned every male head.

The rest of the day I was on autopilot. I went about my chores, my mind racing with the possibilities of who knew and who didn't. The neighbors waved and smiled, their eyes reflecting what? I wondered if they had heard the whispers. The lead checker at the grocery store, the mail lady, even the foxy personal trainer at the gym—they all seemed to look at me with a knowing wink. It was driving me mad, this constant guessing game, but it was also a strange thrill holding my special humiliating secret.

When Rachel dropped Kags off later that day, I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. She looked beautiful, her cheeks flushed from the day's excitement. She had stories to tell, and I listened eagerly, trying to read between the lines for any clue about who knew our secret. Her laughter was wonderful, drawing me in, making me ache for more than she was willing to give.

That night, as we lay in bed, she rolled onto her back and spread her legs, her pussy glistening its invitation once more. "You can love me now, baby," she murmured, and I didn't need to ask what she meant. I eagerly dove in, my tongue worshipping her, my heart racing with the knowledge that she had chosen me, once again, to be the one who could give her what she craved.

Motherfucker, this was Kags! She had been a beauty queen several times in our high school and college years! Every fucking guy wanted to fuck her! And here I was with my face buried in her muff! And then she came, her body shaking with pleasure. I made the beauty queen’s body shake!

The next day, we took a trip to Whole Foods to stock up on supplies for the week. As we pushed our cart through the aisles, Kags's hand rested casually on the small of my back, a gesture that sent a shiver down my spine. She was sometimes kind and gentle with me, her voice sweet, but there was an underlying current of dismissiveness that was hard to miss. I was never a threat to her. It was as if she knew she had me whipped and could ask for anything she wanted…or that she could get it without even asking.

We stopped at Macy's on our way home, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the rows of pretty dresses. She picked out a tight, red dress that hugged her curves, her body moving sinuously as she twirled in front of the mirror. "What do you think?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"It's beautiful," I replied, my voice thick with desire. "You'll look amazing."

She smirked, slipping the dress over her head. "Good," she said, stepping into it. "I want to make sure you can't take your eyes off me. Even though we never fuck, I love the idea of you getting hard. It makes me wet. It makes me feel pretty.''

Then I paid for the dress. As we left the store, her hand slid into mine, her grip firm and sure. Most of the world saw us as a couple, a happy and devoted pair. They didn’t know I wasn’t permitted to fuck her. They took one look at her face and figure and assumed that I was fucking her brains out. But instead we reveled in our special truth. And as we drove home, the new dress across her lap, I felt a strange sense of peace. Our love was our love, and it didn't need to be like everyone else's.

That evening, as I prepared dinner, I found myself watching her, her bare feet padding across the kitchen floor. I tried to remain focused on the task at hand. It was maddening, the way she went about life so insouciantly, seldom even thinking or speaking about our peculiar arrangement. Having her pussy eaten every day by a guy who seldom even broached the idea of fucking her seemed as natural to her as the falling rain.

But as we sat down to eat, she reached out and placed her hand on my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Maddy," she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "You always take such good care of me. I know that life with me is a sacrifice for you, and I love you for it."

I swallowed hard, looking into her eyes. "It's why I'm in your life, I suppose," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. And in that moment, I knew that no matter what the world thought of us, no matter who knew our secrets, I was exactly where I was meant to be.

After dinner, we settled into the couch, a bottle of wine open on the coffee table. Kags curled up against me, her head on my shoulder, and I could feel the heat of her body through her thin shirt. She was wearing no bra, and her nipples pressed against the fabric, begging for attention. But I knew my place, and I kept my hands to myself. Kags didn't like me getting too forward.

As we watched a movie, however, her hand began to drift down, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. "You know you want to," she murmured, her eyes momentarily leaving the screen.

I nodded, my throat dry, and she lifted the shirt to expose her breasts. They were perfect, large, round, and firm. But she didn't offer them to me. Instead, she began to toy with them herself, her eyes never leaving the TV. It was a silent invitation, one I couldn't refuse.

I leaned in and took a nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, my tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. She gasped, arching her back, and I knew I had hit the spot. She didn't say anything, but her hand found its way to my head, guiding me, encouraging me. And as she grew more and more aroused, I felt powerless, waiting for her cues. She was the teacher, I was the eager student, desperately hoping for her approval.

Her breath grew shallow, her body tense, and I knew she was close. I bravely slid my hand down to her pussy, feeling the wetness that had soaked through the fabric. She was soaking wet, and my cock grew harder with each passing second. But I knew not to push my luck. "I love it when you're hard, baby," she whispered. "You are so sexy. You make me feel so pretty." Business as usual.

The days leading up to Thanksgiving were filled with excitement and tension. Some of our friends were coming over, and the thought that any one of them, or worse, all of them, might know my 'no fucking" secret filled me with dread. Would her boss, a staid, conservative...