My Little Sister Is the Best F*p Material - Volume 8 Chapter 02: A Glassful of Human Dignity

Volume 8 Chapter 02: A Glassful of Human Dignity

My sister always wears a blank expression. Not a scowl or a ghostly blankness, just steady neutrality. Never flattering, never fazed—a face best described as “neutral” in the Western sense.

How does such a cool sister maintain her beauty with that poker face? In her room, she secretly slips into frilly outfits, practicing irresistible, cute expressions in private. Those aren’t casual smiles ordinary people flash—they’re the result of meticulous effort to look adorable from every angle. I haven’t seen the photos, but knowing Miyu, that’s exactly what she does.

On the flip side, crafting that appearance hasn’t improved her emotional expression. She used to be a lively, puppy-like girl, but dodging boys she couldn’t stand turned her coolness into dryness. Our inescapable sibling bond softened that a bit, but now that dryness is ingrained, part of her core.

To the point: Miyu has a sex drive, stronger than most women. Before we started having sex, she quelled near-feral urges through masturbation. The main culprit? Me. Our daily sibling life is what gets her the most aroused.

“Staying home again, Miyu?”

“Yup. Same as every year.”

Aside from seeing each other more in the living room, spending the latter half of summer break indoors was typical for us. We’d been out too much with Yuka or Yamamoto-san, exhausting for indoor types like us. People either recharge by playing or resting—we’re the latter.

“AC’s cranked, aren’t you cold?”

The living room was chillier than usual, yet Miyu wore light clothes. Guys worry when a girl’s body gets cold. She’s been showing a bit more skin lately.

“Might be chilly.”

She rubbed her thighs for warmth. With her ample chest, the cold must’ve hit hard elsewhere.

“Should I turn up the AC?”

A normal suggestion, I thought. But her reaction was sour.

“You really learned nothing from those ero games, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You horny or something?”

I felt bad for only caring about CGs, but I thought I’d said something reasonable. Her critique caught me off guard, so my retort was half-joking, half-protest. She didn’t deny it, though, just beckoned me to sit beside her on the sofa and fell silent.

“Hm? What’s up? No way…”

She glanced at me but said nothing. Staring at her face, I noticed a slight flush beneath her skin, more than usual. Her body was cold, but her core was warm—her heart racing without moving, raising her temperature. She was thinking something intense enough to spike her pulse. The low room temp was probably to cool that down.

She failed to naturally prompt my affection, but did she expect me to say, “It’s cold, let’s cuddle for warmth”? Knowing Miyu, admitting her arousal might’ve short-circuited her from embarrassment.

“What should we do?”

In short, she was horny and struggling. Maybe from this morning’s gym uniform play. But this wasn’t something masturbation could fix—she wanted to resolve it through intimacy with me. That was rare.

She’d likely felt this before, either handling it alone or syncing with my lust. But since becoming lovers and cutting back on intimacy to deal with Yuka and Yamamoto-san, her sex drive had hit a breaking point.

Her first time getting aroused by me without a clear trigger must’ve thrown her off. I was unsure how to respond. In lovey-dovey mode, it’d be easier, but she was in her usual neutral state. Still, her honesty showed trust. As her brother and a man, I had to take the lead.

“Then I’ll finger you till you’re satisfied. Or, wanna lie down naked? I’m ready now—you can use my body however you want.”

“That’s a reliable offer, but it doesn’t quite fit.”

She doesn’t love being touched down there. She tolerates it with me, but outside her instinct-driven mode, it’s not always her preference. I’d offered alternatives knowing this, but she wasn’t in the mood for standard sex. Yet, it wasn’t like I should just pounce either. She wanted to relieve her lust, not necessarily have sex.

Maybe I should wait for her to specify what she wanted. That’s what’s best for her, and I’d done so before. But as her biggest supporter, suggesting a play she’d enjoy felt right.

“How about I… rub your stomach like this?”

“Huh?”

It sounded absurd, far from erotic. But for us, obsessing over sex or foreplay seemed unnecessary. Her puzzled look showed she got my drift. That’s the kind of siblings we are.

“Could be nice.”

Nervously agreeing, we positioned ourselves on the sofa, me behind her—a familiar setup for our affection. The difference: this wasn’t about hugging or groping but easing her arousal.

She lifted her T-shirt’s hem enough for my hand to slip under, and I gently rubbed her smooth stomach. Warming her abdomen with my palm, I pressed lightly, stimulating deeper with a steady rhythm of strokes and presses.

“Nn…”

Facing forward, she let out a pleased sound. Without her face visible, she could relax into the sensation. It was closer to a massage—but for her womb.

Switching to both hands, I focused below her navel, pressing and stroking. The pressure seemed just right; each deep push drew heavier, hotter breaths from her.

“Ah… ffu… nn… aah…”

Her moans slipped out, unselfconscious. As the stimulation built, her reactions intensified, and she rubbed her thighs together to mask the pleasure. Things were going well.

Ignoring time, I savored her growing responses, continuing to stimulate her stomach. Her erotic moans were reward enough, but her joy at my touch was even better.

“Feel good?”

A simple question, no ulterior motive. But whispering near her ear, with our bodies pressed close, was too much for her sensitized state.

“Nn, ah, nnn—!”

Relaxed and enjoying the pressure, she suddenly tensed, gripping my hand. It was her familiar climax reaction. A mischievous impulse made me continue the stimulation she’d been resisting.

“Ah, ah, no… Onii-chan… ah… nn…!”

Pressing above her bladder got the best response—closest to her womb, it seemed. Her climax didn’t fade, and my own arousal surged, unstoppable.

Like during sex, slow, steady presses deepened her reactions. Fully erect, I pressed against her back, letting her feel my cock’s shape.

“Nn… nnn…! Ah… haa, haa… no, stop, I can’t… nn… aah, wait, wait… something feels weird… nn, ah, ah…!”

She frantically tried to stop me. The pressure near her bladder made her mistake her abundant love juices for wetting herself.

“No more… the sofa’ll get ruined…! Nn, ahh… Onii-chan… ah, ah, ah, it’s coming… nn…!”

Her body convulsed again, peaking. I eased into a cooldown, letting her breathing settle. Exhausted, she leaned into me, and I continued with gentle caresses until her arousal was resolved.

“Good?”

“Uh, yeah… I’m good. Thanks.”

Thanking me, she slid to the carpet, cautiously turning to face me. Her panties couldn’t absorb all the fluid, leaving a stain, but confirming it wasn’t urine, her gaze shifted to my bulging pants.

“You’re in a state, huh?”

“Expected outcome.”

Her cuteness or sexiness always got me hard—it was inevitable.

The question was whether we’d move to sex. Her womb was primed, so insertion would be intense, but we saw her arousal as resolved. It was a matter of mood.

As I pondered what to do, she stared at my erection. Twitching it to get her to look up, I asked what she was thinking.

“Just… haven’t seen it in a while.”

“What?”

Even with less frequency due to Yamamoto-san, we still had sex regularly. My cock should be as familiar as her own body.

“You cumming.”

“The moment I ejaculate?”

“Yup.”

Was that right? Come to think of it, the last time was a breast shot during paizuri, and since Miyu only allowed creampies or oral ejaculation, she probably hadn’t seen the white fluid shooting from my cock.

“You want to see it?”

“A little.”

What a surprise. I hadn’t expected her to say that—it made me thrilled.

“Then, a handjob this time?”

“I’m kinda in the mood to watch you do it yourself for a change.”

“Seriously?”

It felt like going back to basics, not bad, but after reaching full-on sex, it lacked intensity.

“Could you at least show me your boobs?”

“Ugh, you used to be satisfied just with me watching.”

Quality of life, once raised, can’t be lowered. As Miyu said, I’d gotten spoiled by her luxurious body. Having my cute sister watch me cum is an experience no other guy could dream of, yet here I was, wanting more.

I shouldn’t forget that happiness. Right, today I’d masturbate in front of her.

“Like before, should I cum in your mouth…? For now… ffu… I’ll try to cum…!”

“I do want that, but since we’re here, I want to really see it happen.”

With her lust sated, curiosity seemed to take over. As I started stroking my cock, she suddenly went to the kitchen, rummaging through drawers. While she made noise, I kept at it silently. The pathetic nostalgia of it hit just right.

She returned with a transparent plastic cup, the disposable kind used at picnics or school events. Apparently, I was to cum in it.

Cumming into a cup was a first—nerve-wracking but exciting. Dirtying something with my semen felt taboo, no matter what. Still, I hadn’t begged her to watch, and she knew I was used to her seeing my cock, so the thrill wasn’t as intense as the first time.

“Hey, Miyu, can you say something to make me cum?”

“Ehh…”

I’d pushed too far. But she understood it’d be tough for me to finish like this.

“Hmm, what to say…”

As I jerked off, she held the cup delicately with both hands, seriously thinking. This was the kind of understanding our relationship thrived on.

“Having you touch my womb so much felt really good.”

That hit hard. Pre-cum gushed from my tip, and I was ready to blow.

“That’s great. One more, and I think I can cum.”

“Really?”

She blinked at me, dry but agreeable, like, “If that’s what you need.” Holding the cup like a poor girl begging for food, cumming into it felt even more thrilling. I hadn’t expected her to go along so easily, but since this was her request, her concession was classic Miyu.

“Um…”

She hesitated, not over what to say but whether she should. Her gaze, like a shy teen struggling to confess, carried a subtle embarrassment.

“I love your semen, Onii-chan.”

Blushing, she stared, urging a reaction. That obvious confession sent a surge through me, and I unconsciously sped up my strokes.

“M-Miyu… I’m cumming…”

Telling her to watch the white spurt, I poured my feelings into the cup she tilted toward me. Each shot made a dry topu, topu sound, making the act of cumming into a cup feel vividly real.

The perverse act and her serious gaze on my cock kept my arousal high. My erect penis pulsed with small contractions, signaling a second round, like a fish begging for food at the surface. Her wide-eyed curiosity egged me on—I wanted her to see me cum more.

“Miyu… I’m gonna cum again… keep watching… uku… u…!”

Byuru, byuku—the second wave hit the cup. Semen stuck to the sides with its viscosity, slowly dripping down as I finished. When she tilted it upright, about three centimeters of my cum pooled at the bottom.

“Too much.”

“Yeah, too much.”

It was her fault, but even I thought it was excessive.

“I think this when you cum in my mouth, but you take a long time, huh?”

Her first comment after observing my masturbation in a while. She’d grumbled about swallowing so much before, but it seemed normal to her now.

I really shouldn’t have shown her AVs. Sure, I cum more than most, but that’s because Miyu’s so erotic, my urethra’s trained to keep going from the stimulation.

“So, you gonna drink it?”

“Mm… yeah, if you tell me to.”

Rarely, she showed reluctance. If she loved my semen, there’d be no hesitation, but with her lust satisfied earlier, maybe she wasn’t in the mood.

“Well, it’s just…”

Holding the cup, she brought it to her lips, seeming to want to drink, but pulled back.

“Drinking from a cup feels… kinda wrong as a person, don’t you think?”

“You’re right. If you held it in your hands and lapped it up, that’d be normal, right?”

“Yeah, true.”

Nodding, she tilted the cup to her mouth again, then stopped.

“No, wait. Drinking this feels like the end of my humanity.”

She pulled back, regaining composure. Honestly, I thought drinking cum from a cup was wild too. Licking it off the floor or sharing it mouth-to-mouth felt like acceptable play, but somehow, a cup made it insanely perverse.

“Yeah, semen’s not for drinking. Let’s skip it this time.”

“Right. I’ll responsibly flush it down the toilet.”

She stood and headed to the bathroom. No swallowing today—our sibling relief session ended. She returned, tossed the empty cup in the trash, her face hidden by her long hair. She’d been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes. I didn’t pry, but as I grabbed tea from the fridge, I ran into her at the trash can—unavoidable.

“Don’t ask anything.”

Without meeting my eyes, she fled to her room. What she felt, how she processed it, or how much excitement she got afterward—I’ll never know.

But the womb massage earlier must’ve hit hard, because from her room, usually soundproof, faint noises leaked out. As a courtesy, I sat against the wall, cock throbbing, letting her have her moment.