Performance anxiety makes it tough

"Come on, you little fistfucker!" your sister shouted. "I don't want to be late!"

You winced at that moniker. Fistfucker. First she called you a virgin, now 'fistfucker?' You looked down. You had never heard that one before, but you had to concede it was extremely accurate. And at least she knew that one was true.

"James! Hurry up! How long does it take to cum?! What are you, a girl? Do I need to break out my Hitachi?" Oh, shit. Another squirt of precum. You didn't know your sister had an Hitachi. Maybe she was just fucking with you – that was exactly her style, after all. But the possibility she wasn't sent a rush through your loins.

"You were already dripping wet! How could it possibly take you so long to finish?!" You set aside the panties and the plug on the counter, and grabbed your penis with your bare hand. With the level of precum you'd been spurting over the last half-hour, you didn't need the slightest bit of lube, as your whole shaft was coated in your own natural version. You started pounding away, fucking your fist as fast as you could.

"James! We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago! Hurry up, you little fistfucker!" You winced again, and lost a little of your erection. "Seriously! Come on!" You picked up the pace, your hand a blur.

"I never should have let you masturbate," your sister grumbled from the other side of the door. You knew you had to leave, but you were so close. If she would just shut up. A few more minutes, and you were sure you'd have blastoff.

"God. I'd tell you to wait until we get to the university so you can find a hot girl to take care of that for you, but you and I both know that's not going to happen." Jesus, did your sister have to be so blunt? Yeah, she was probably right; you'd never had much luck with the ladies, but that was only – okay, mostly – because you haven't tried! If you tried, you'd probably get laid. Possibly. Maybe. If you got lucky. Of course, you'd have to deal with your borderline crippling shyness and high degree of awkwardness first, but still. It was technically possible!

You tried in vain to hurry up, but somehow the pressure to finish was hurting your performance.

"Hurry up, fistfucker! How does that little hand feel, little brother?" your sister taunted.

"Would you shut up and let me finish?!" you whined. "It's kinda hard to do this with you standing there yelling at me!"

"Awww... is my wittle baby bwother having performance anxiety? I'll let you in on a little secret, James. Sex, if you should ever actually manage to have it some day, generally has another person there. And if you get embarrassed because you're not alone, good luck ever getting any! I feel sorry for the girl who agrees to fuck you!" Your dick lost a little more of its rigidity.

"Yeah, but you're my sister! This is weird!" you shouted back.

"Oh, well you didn't have a problem jerking it when I was in there and you were on this side of the door! Maybe you should have thought of that when you were celebrating Palm Sunday!" Fuck. You had no retort, but tried to focus on jerking. It was harder now, now that you had lost some of your erection. FUCK. A groan escaped your lips. Why couldn't you finish? If she would just be quiet for a minute or two...