I Dare You

I Dare You

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Thanks to Tex Beethoven for his editing.

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All sexually active characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years or older.

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A note from Nikki

This is the 100^th story I've posted under my nikki_2021 account at Literotica. It seemed fitting that it be within the incest/taboo category given that's where a lot of my work has been. It all seemed right that it be a nice, long tale with plenty of build up. I know some people will be annoyed by the length, but hopefully those of you who enjoy a nice long build will take plenty of pleasure for it.

Thanks to everyone who has commented on my stories over the years, its always nice to receive feedback, especially the positive ones. Even the negative feedback can sometimes help me with direction for future stories (though to be honest, a lot of it just makes the commentor look like a bit of a dick haha).

Anyway, I'm sure you'd rather read the actual story, so thanks again.

Licks and kisses,

nikki

~~~~~~~

When I was twelve, my older brother introduced me to a game. He called it the peg game. It was pretty simple. He'd take one of Mum's old wooden clothes pegs and clip it somewhere on my clothing. Then he'd see how long it would take for me to find it. It used to shit me no end. He took so much pleasure in telling me how insufferably long it had taken for me to realise the peg had been clipped there. It would be pegged to the back of my t-shirt, or to the hem of my school skirt, or sometimes even on my skirt directly behind my butt so I'd find it as soon as I sat down. Those placements pissed me off more than any of the others.

He was three years older than I was and a sly bastard. He was too good at it. It was just one of many ways in which he used to torment me.

There was only one way to fight back: I started doing it back to him. I thought once I did, he'd see how annoying it was and stop, but instead it just encouraged him. I was surprised, though. I started to enjoy the game. Sometimes he'd see how many pegs he could hang on my clothes before I noticed any of them and then I'd do the same to him. It started to drive our parents mad as well.

For some reason, unlike a lot of other things we got up to as kids, that game endured. It evolved, but it endured.

In the end, it came down to one peg. When Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone first came out, Brandon took a wooden peg and painted it gold. He called it the snitch, and that became the only peg that mattered. We became warier of each other, of course; and as time passed, it became more and more difficult for us to catch each other off guard.

One day, long after it had become incredibly tricky to catch each other out, Brandon introduced a new wrinkle.

"How about we make this game more interesting, Sarah?"

I was immediately suspicious.

"What do you mean, interesting?"

"How about each time one of us manages to peg one another, the person that's been pegged has to do something for the other?"

"Like what?" I asked. By this time Brandon was seventeen and I was fourteen. We got along well enough, but that didn't mean I trusted him. He could still be mean to me, especially when his guy friends were around.

"Like, do one of the other person's chores or something."

I gave it some thought. The way we now played the game it went back and forth, so every time I pegged him, he'd have to do a chore for me. It might take me longer to catch him unaware, but at least he wouldn't ever be able to like double up on me and have me doing his chores at a rate faster than I could have him doing mine. So I agreed.

We kept playing the game like that for a couple of years. Sometimes it would take me a couple of weeks to find an opportunity to peg him. It never took him that long, but it wasn't uncommon for it to take him a week.

When Brandon finished high school it slowed down, because we didn't see each other as often. It never quite stopped, though.

It was about a month after my eighteenth birthday that things took a different turn.

I found the peg attached to the back of my pants leg, just within the fold of the knee. Brandon had been at dinner and had dropped something under the table. I'd been suspicious and avoided him while he was down there, but he must have caught me afterwards. I'd thought he had soccer training, so I didn't think he would be at dinner or I'd have worn my compression tights. I found they were the ideal thing to wear around him, because there was almost no way for him to clip the peg on without my feeling him doing it.

I went up to his room when I found it.

"Okay Brandon, you got me. What chore do I have to do for you?" I said, leaning against the frame of his doorway.

"You know, I don't think chores really work for us anymore. I mean think about it, do you even really do any chores around the house?"

"Well, we often have to do the dishes," I replied.

"Yeah but like, I dunno, it's not the same. I still like the thrill of the chase and catching you out, but it seems like it would be better if there were something like... I dunno, a different consequence for getting caught."

"Like what?" I asked, knowing he must have already given this some thought, so there could easily be a trap somewhere if I wasn't careful.

"Like a dare," he replied.

"Sounds interesting." I gave it some thought. It was a lot more open-ended than doing a chore, but it was kind of exciting. "Okay, but there have to be some rules."

"Sure, anything you want that makes sense."

"Well, we have to have the right to refuse if it's too crazy or something."

"Sounds reasonable."

"And like nothing illegal."

"Sounds fair. Anything else?"

"If I think of it along the way I'll let you know. Because like, I can't be expected to think of everything immediately, right?"

"Right. So since you've got the peg right now, you get to issue the first dare. If you can manage to peg me, of course."

"I'll get you sometime," I promised him.

I started trying to think of what I'd dare him to do. In the end I turned to Google as a source for good dares.

It took me another week before I managed to peg him. He was watching television on the couch, and I managed to sneak in behind him, commando crawling across the floor so he wouldn't see my reflection in the screen or the window (you have to start thinking of these details when your games get serious). His arm was hanging over the armrest, and I managed to reach up from the floor and fasten it to the cuff of his sleeve. I didn't celebrate or gloat though, because I'd learnt a long time ago that it was much better when at first the other person didn't know you'd pegged them. It meant there was a good chance you could use the same technique again. Never give away the secret to your success!

"Aww crap!" I heard him say from where I'd been lurking in the kitchen since clipping him with the peg. He came looking for me." Alright, what's the dare?" he asked when he found me.

"I dare you to do the cinnamon challenge," I told him smugly.

"The what?"

I explained to him what the challenge was, and he agreed to do it. We had to go to the store to buy enough cinnamon, but by God it was funny seeing him try!

"Not a bad dare, Sis," he admitted to me when he'd eventually recovered from the coughing and burning that had resulted from his trying to ingest so much unadulterated cinnamon.

He got me two weeks later, managing to attach the peg to the hem of my netball skirt while I was chatting to some friends after my game. It wasn't unusual for him to be there to watch, and even though he'd pegged me at a netball game before, this time I'd had a concentration lapse. He'd successfully pegged me fair and square, and I was dreading what he'd come up with. After all, he has a significantly more devious mind than I do. I doubted he'd be resorting to Google to find something to challenge me with.

"I dare you to run to the end of the street and back in just your swimsuit," he said smugly. Now that might not seem that outrageous, but it was winter. I accepted the dare, because it was in the spirit of our agreement, even though it would be fucking embarrassing if anyone saw me. How do you explain why you're running down your neighbourhood street in your swimsuit in the middle of winter? I mean the obvious explanation would be that you were given a dare, but it would still be embarrassing!

I took advantage of the lack of specificity in his dare, though. I put on my one-piece swimsuit and waited around until like midnight, to do the run when no one would see me. I was successful. I could tell he was disappointed, and from the calculating look on his face I knew he'd be more careful about loopholes in the future.

For the next couple of months, we continued to hunt each other down and put each other through silly dares. I pulled a number of them off the Internet, or responded in kind to something Brandon had dared me to do.

It didn't occur to me at the time, but more and more Brandon's dares seemed to focus on my doing things that revealed my body to him. It wasn't anything overt like I dare you to strip, but it did involve a lot of running around in my bathing suit, either in front of him, or once in front of one of his friends. He once even dared me to lie outside sunbathing in my bikini when he brought one of his football (soccer) friends over. I felt like a piece of meat, laying out on the lawn with the weak sun washing over my body. It didn't help that it wasn't even really warm yet. I mean I didn't even have a tan to show off at that time of year. Lucky I had a chance to apply a fake tan before I made good on the dare!

~~~~~~~

I swore when I found the golden peg on the hem of my cheerleading skirt. How the hell had he managed to get it there? It turned out I'd come home and flopped on the couch watching television, and I hadn't even heard him come into the house. I must have dozed off.

"Oh, found that did you?" he asked me as he entered the living room from upstairs.

"Yes," I replied with a heavy sigh.

"Well, I dare you..." he paused well beyond a reasonable time.

"Oh come on, out with it!" I demanded.

"Okay, I dare you to put a thong on under your cheerleading skirt and wear it for the rest of the night. No covering up with track pants or anything, and you're not allowed to hide in your room, you have to hang in the living room until bedtime at eleven."

"What if I don't own a thong?"

"Oh come on, I've hung the washing out," he laughed.

"God, you perve!" I accused him

"So? Accepted?"

"Fine," I replied, thinking I'd have to be very careful about how I flopped about in front of the television. I headed up to my room and selected the most boring thong I could find: plain black cotton, but even so, my ass cheeks were totally uncovered. I changed into it and bent over experimentally to check myself out in the mirror, seeing how much latitude I had before my butt was exposed. It wasn't much. I returned to the living room and flopped on the couch, my hands pressing the centre of my skirt into my lap to prevent exposure.

Brandon sat down in the easy chair that was placed at ninety degrees to the couch and pretended to watch TV, but I knew he was being a complete perve and really just trying to peek up my skirt. It made me wonder how often he tried to look up my skirt normally. What a dirty shit head.

I became particularly conscious I was hanging around the house in my uniform with just a thong beneath my skirt once Mum and Dad came home, but fortunately neither of them seemed to take any notice. Eventually I forgot to worry about it though, and I laid down on the floor in the living room, facing the television while lying on my tummy, my chin resting on my hands with my elbows on the floor. It was quite common for me to flop on the floor like that, so I didn't register the fact that Brandon had taken up a position directly behind me on the couch. I think I'd probably been there for an hour before I realised I'd probably flashed him a view right up my skirt a dozen times while I watched the show.

"That was a good dare," he laughed when I realised and squealed at him. I stormed off to my room and plotted what I could do that might embarrass him just as much. I played with that shitty little golden peg for an hour trying to think of something to dare him to do, not to mention a clever way to peg him again.

It took me three weeks to do it that time, but I did finally manage to get him, attaching the peg to one of his shoelaces while he was distracted by the television. Shows with girls in bikinis were always good distractions where Brandon was concerned.

"Nice shoes, bro," I taunted him when he stood up to go and get a drink during a commercial break.

"Ahh crap," he laughed. "Okay, what's the dare?"

"You know those really thin track pants you have? The Nike ones?"

"Yeah."

"You have to wear them around the house for a full day without any underwear. And I get to pick the day. And you can't run off just because of what you're wearing."

"No problem at all," he replied and went to get his drink. His being so nonchalant about it drove me mad. Didn't he realise that if he wore them without underwear, they'd basically show off his cock? It would be just as obvious as if I walked around without my bra and only a thin t-shirt to cover myself. My DD tits would be bouncing everywhere. I plotted a little further. Maybe if there was someone else present to see him, it would be even more embarrassing. I decided Saturday would be perfect. I'd invite Becky over. She seemed weirdly attracted to my brother, so maybe if there was someone checking him out while he was swinging free in his light pants, he'd wish he weren't.

I set it up. Becky was more than happy to come over, and I knew Brandon's football game was on Sunday, so he'd be around the house resting up most of the day.

Because Brandon seemed to want to peek up my cheerleading skirt, I decided to tease him on Saturday just to see if I could get a reaction on the day. I dressed in a flirty little yellow and white floral dress with a thong underneath, and made sure he got a chance to peek under it a couple of times during the morning. He was wearing his track pants and a t-shirt. I kept a careful eye out for swinging action in his pants, or at least signs that he might be getting turned on.

That was the first time I had an inkling of why my brother might be so popular with the girls. I mean, he plays on the football team and he's not ugly, but sometimes I thought he was luckier with the ladies than he deserved. It seemed a huge schlong will also win you attention. Yep, that's right. All evidence pointed toward my brother being noticeably bigger than average. I started to regret having invited Becky over. I mean, he was my brother and I was impressed by what I was seeing, and I doubted he was even hard. It was like he had a salami hanging inside his pants!

Becky arrived wearing a pair of black athletic tights and a cropped t-shirt, looking as gorgeous as ever. She was half Chinese and half Anglo with the most delicious skin tone. Her body was tight, too.

"Oh, hey Brandon!" she called out happily when my brother strolled through the living room while we were in the kitchen getting drinks.

"Hey Becky," he replied with a grin. Then, rather than turn away like I thought he would to hide himself, he detoured into the kitchen to get a drink as well. He gave me a shit-eating smile and made out as if everything was normal, and the worst thing was that it was normal. I did notice how much he was checking out Becky's gorgeous little butt, though. Her tights were like, super tight. His admiring eyes led my gaze to her butt as well, and I realised she was totally posing for him!

"Becky!" I exclaimed. Brandon looked at me in shock, and Becky gave me a look of complete innocence that told me she totally knew exactly what she was doing. Brandon left us, and I dragged Becky up to my room.

"You're terrible!" I accused her.

"What? Your brother is a good-looking dude," she explained. "And I don't know if you noticed, but I think he totally wasn't wearing any underwear and um, well how can I say this without upsetting you? I can't, so okay, Sarah, the rumours are true. Your brother is hung."

"Ewwwww, Becky!!!!"

"Yeah, I know you don't want to hear it, but wow, I just wanted to grab hold of him through those pants. they looked like super thin, probably not muck thicker than a condom!"

"Enough!' I protested. I couldn't believe how much my plan had backfired on me. It was so unfair. I had to work pretty hard to keep Becky and Bandon apart from each other for the rest of the afternoon. Becky showed no signs of wanting to leave; she was constantly making trips to the kitchen and Brandon hung around like a bad smell.

My only satisfaction from the day was just as Becky was leaving. Mum had been out shopping. The three of us were in the kitchen, Becky and Brandon were flirting, and even I could see that he was growing in his pants. Mum walked in unexpectedly, and suddenly Brandon was trying to get the hell out of there, turning and twisting his body so he'd be facing away from Mum so his cock, which was clearly standing out against the thin fabric (I swear I could tell he was circumcised as he grew it was so thin) wouldn't be obvious to her. At last the dare was providing something close to the embarrassment I'd hoped for.

~~~~~~~

I found the peg on one of my skirts a couple of weeks later, and I had to face up to Brandon to see what my next dare was going to be. I couldn't help but think about how sexualised it had become. Not to mention that over the weeks of waiting, I'd found myself checking out my brother's crotch more and more. I mean, how had I not noticed before? I'd heard the rumours, of course. People try not to talk about stuff like that around you, but you overhear things; I'd just never put much stock in it. But now that I had a better idea of what he was packing, the signs were all over the place.

"So Sarah, how're things?" Brandon asked me, standing casually at the entrance to my room.

"Fine," I replied tersely, wondering if he was going to tell me what the dare was, or just stand there and tease me.

"About that dare..." he paused, letting the moment hang.

"What about it?"

"Oh come on, don't be so sooky; I'll put you out of your misery. I dare you to send me a picture of yourself flashing your underwear."

"No way!"

"What do you mean no way? Do you concede defeat? Do I win the game?"

"Not even close," I protested. "I'm not going to send you a picture because then I'd lose control over where it goes. I'll flash you if you want, but the only record you'll have of it will be your own perverted memory."

I could see him thinking about it. "Okay, but if that's all I get, you have to flash me every day for a week," he countered.

"Four days," I offered.

"Fine," he agreed with a grin. "No time like the present, hey?"

"You do realise you're not right in the head, don't you?" I accused him, laughing. I stood up and pulled my t-shirt up to flash him my bra. It was a simple white cotton number, nothing exciting, but you wouldn't have thought that from the look on Brandon's face.

"Very nice," he purred. "And the panties?"

I unfastened my jeans, wiggled them down over my hips and pushed them down, making sure not to push my panties down as well. I pulled the navy-blue cotton bikini up into position and let him see the front, then turned around enough to show him my ass as well, then quickly pulled my jeans up and my shirt down.