The 911 dispatcher

I hear John's panicked footsteps and the loudspeaker of his phone. "911. Please state your emergency."

"Uh, hey, my sister just went into a lake for just a second, and she started feeling dizzy I think and just collapsed."

"Is she in danger of drowning now?"

"No, she got out."

I don't feel any pain, which is good. Maybe it's algae poisoning, I read that they bloom in water or something.

"We've been getting a lot of reports about the same thing. It's highly likely that it's algae poisoning," the dispatcher said.

Oh, I was right.

"Where are you both now?"

"Uh - 13, Montana Abby, uh - that's all I remember."

It's Montana Avery, you idiot!

"It's Montana Avery, sir," the dispatcher said. It's almost like they're reading my thoughts. "We're sending an ambulance right now, it should arrive in about thirty minutes. Who am I speaking to?"

"John."

"John, I need you to listen very closely to what I say. Your sister's life depends on you taking the necessary actions before the medics arrive."

And silence.

"Hello?"

Did she hang up? Am I going to die here? No, it's a dream. I'm not going to die. But it sure feels like I'm going to die! Fucking check my pulse or something!

"First, you need to check her pulse," the dispatcher finally said.

Wait, what? This can't be true.

"Okay, okay." John says, and I feel his finger on the nape of my neck. "There's a pulse. Then what?"

Take off her clothes.

"You have to remove all her clothes."

"What?"

"John, you'll have to do what I say. This is an emergency. What is she wearing now?"

"Just a one-piece swimsuit."

"Take it off."

"Fucking hell," I heard John say. I feel his hand hook the strings on my shoulders, and peel the swimsuit off my body. I feel the moment my breasts sprang free, the slipping of the wet fabric off my hips and down my legs and off my feet. I'm naked in the cool spring air. I can't see John clearly, but I know he's staring.

I know exactly what I need.

"Right, now you need to get some body oil. Do you have any?"

"Yes, I think so."

My body is heating up so much but I can't move an inch to touch my nipples or pussy. John, quick!

He dashes out and lays next to me. "I've got the oil."

"You need to lather it up every part of her body. This is crucial to combat the toxin."

"Shit, shit. Is this really necessary?"

"John, we've been over this. No arguing. You're wasting valuable time."

"Okay, okay. But - but do you know if she's conscious right now?"

"Yes, she's fully conscious. But it doesn't matter, you're saving her life." Then I add, "she'll feel everything." But stop myself from saying "she'll love it too". Have to keep up the professionalism of an emergency dispatcher.

"Shit. I'm really sorry, sis," he says. I feel the oil drip in a stream from my chest to my stomach. His hands start around my stomach and oiled it all up, then went to my arms and shoulders then legs but disappointingly didn't go any further, leaving all my most sensitive parts aching for attention. What is he thinking? He has the perfect opportunity to just touch me everywhere, doesn't he want it? Oh, John, don't be shy.

"You have to spread the oil everywhere, including all her private parts. Don't be embarrassed, John, this is a matter of life and ****."

"Okay! Okay! I'm doing it!" John laments.

I hear him take a deep breath. So cute. His hands then start from beneath my breasts and slide upward, and the rest is a groping motion to make sure every bit of skin is oiled. I feel how hard my nipples are when his fingers brush past. If I could moan, I'll moan the loudest for my little brother to hear to tell him how good of a job he's doing. I want to see his face clearly, just to make sure he's enjoying it as much as I do.

"Now her vagina. Be quick."

John moves toward the lower half of my body and I heard him utter a soft "oh, shit." He must have seen how wet I am. There you go, John. You don't have to be shy. Your sister is enjoying it too.

I feel another stream of oil land on my crotch. I see the blurry outline of him looking at it, entranced by it. Go on, touch it, John. I'm all yours.

The warmth of his palm spreads the oil all over my underside. I'm breathing so heavily now, already so hot inside but each rub of his palms just adds to it more. The hands spare nothing - he must have got the message - they roam not only my pussy but into the crack of my ass too, rubbing, exploring, massaging, but achingly only on the outside.

"John, you need to put the oil inside her vagina. Make sure everything is covered in it, her clitoris, labia, and inside of her vagina included."

"O - okay..."

He doesn't seem to know those words and fumbles.

"Spread her legs, John."

He picks my legs up by the knees and parts them, and now I'm in full view. His fingers cover the oil into my inner folds, and just as I thought he would hesitate to really penetrate me, he does. One finger, where it's supposed to never be. But it's too slow and too sloppy.

"John, I have... one last request. Re - remember, this is for saving your sister's life - you - your - a man's semen is a great antidote to the toxin - you have to inseminate her."

"Are you fucking serious?" John says, but it's an exasperated whisper. Or overjoyed? I can't tell.

Come on, John. Let your sister make you happy. Your finger is already doing it's job.

"Don't you want to do it?" I (the dispatcher) say, breaking character.

"I'm sorry?"

"Does your sister's body not make you horny? Aren't you hard right now?"

"I - I am..."

"Don't you want to fuck your sister if you had the chance?"

"I - I -" he unzips, "Yes, I do."

Finally. Finally. I feel my legs being lifted, and the tip of his dick touch my folds, and then the world turns to white.

NO. NO!

I'm in my bedroom. It's eight in the morning. I'm still in my short nightgown, and my panties are soaking wet. All that, and I haven't even had a chance to cum. Today's the day, nobody's home except for John. I smell of my own juices as I walk through my door.