"What's the point?" Mandy mumbled into her pillow, the frustration of another unsatisfying date still echoing through her mind. Her phone buzzed with the same old message from her brother, Brad: "Will you still be here in time for dinner tonight, sis? Mom's cooking her famous lasagna!" She groaned. Dinner at her parents' house meant enduring Brad's smug smirks and their mom's knowing winks, all hinting at her brother's legendary love life. But she had promised to spend the weekend at home. Her mother loved having both her children under one roof. She said it reminded her of the old days.

Mandy rolled out of bed with annoyance. She'd heard the stories—how Brad could make any girl quiver with just a glance, and how his size was something of a family legend. It wasn't fair that she was stuck never finding a guy who could hit the right spot.

With a sigh, she pulled on some leggings and a loose t-shirt, preparing herself for the inevitable dinner conversation. As she drove over, she couldn't help but think about the last time she'd been there. Brad's girlfriend, Tiffany, had been there, flaunting her tight dress and perfect makeup. The way she'd talked about Brad's "assets" had made Mandy's cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and envy.

The aroma of lasagna filled the house as she stepped inside, the warmth and spices wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. Her mom, Janet, beamed at her from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Mandy, honey, you look gorgeous!" she exclaimed, giving her a tight squeeze. Mandy forced a smile, bracing herself for the evening ahead.

Brad sauntered in from the living room, his muscular frame filling the doorway. "Hey, little sis," he said with a grin that made her want to scream. He had that same cocky air as always, as if the world was just waiting to drop its panties for him. Tiffany trailed behind him, her blonde hair bouncing as she giggled at something he whispered in her ear. The sight of them together was like a slap in the face.

Mandy took a deep breath, trying to ignore the twinge of resentment that bubbled up in her chest. She knew she shouldn't compare herself to Tiffany or Brad's past conquests, but it was hard not to when her own dating life was a series of sad, flaccid disappointments. "Hi, Brad. Hi, Tiffany," she said with forced cheerfulness, accepting a kiss on the cheek from each of them.

Dinner was a tense affair, with Janet's overly enthusiastic questions about Mandy's love life serving as a constant reminder of her celibacy. She picked at her food, half-listening to her mom's suggestions about online dating and Brad's tales of his latest gym achievements. Tiffany just sat there, giggling and nodding along, obviously thrilled to be part of the family that had it all figured out.

Mandy's eyes kept drifting to Brad's plate, where he was devouring the lasagna like a starving man. His strong hands gripped the fork, and she couldn't help but think about the stories she'd heard—how those same hands had made Tiffany's toes curl. Her cheeks grew hot as she imagined what else those hands could do. The way Brad's biceps bulged as he cut his food only added to her frustration.

After dinner, Brad's laughter echoed from the living room as he and Tiffany settled in to watch a movie. Mandy helped Janet with the dishes, the clank of silverware against ceramic the only sound in the kitchen. "You know, Mandy," Janet began, her voice tentative, "not everyone finds the right person right away. Sometimes you just need to keep looking."

Mandy nodded, her mind elsewhere. "I know, Mom," she murmured, rinsing a plate and placing it in the dishwasher. Her thoughts strayed to the size of Brad's cock again—how it seemed to cast a shadow over every aspect of her life. She couldn't even enjoy a simple family dinner without thinking about it.

As they cleared the table, Janet's gaze grew more contemplative. "You know, sweetie," she said, placing a gentle hand on Mandy's arm, "sometimes the best things come from within." Mandy rolled her eyes internally, expecting another lecture on finding fulfillment without a man. But then Janet leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've got something that might help."

Curiosity piqued, Mandy followed her mom into the dimly lit study. Janet reached into the back of the bookshelf and pulled out a dusty, leather-bound book titled "The Art of Self-Pleasure." She placed it on the desk with a knowing smile. "Your grandma gave this to me when I was your age," she confided. "It's about time you had it."

Mandy's cheeks flushed as she took the book, the weight of it feeling like a secret burden lifted from her mother's shoulders. The pages were filled with hand-drawn illustrations that were surprisingly explicit for something so old. She thumbed through the pages, each image more shocking than the last. It was like discovering a treasure trove of knowledge that had been hidden from her all her life.

"Mom," she whispered, unable to believe what she was holding. "Is this... for real?" Janet nodded, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Your grandma was a wise woman. Sometimes, you have to take matters into your own hands, especially when the world isn't giving you what you need."

Mandy retreated to her childhood bedroom, the book feeling both illicit and liberating. She sat on her bed, the plush comforter swallowing her up as she opened it to a random page. The illustration was of a woman, her hair splayed out like a halo, her face lost in ecstasy as she touched herself. Mandy felt a spark of excitement in her belly that she hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe this was the answer she'd been looking for—learning to satisfy herself without relying on the disappointing men she'd been dating.

The house grew quieter as the night went on, until all she could hear was the muffled sound of the TV from the living room. Mandy set the book aside and slipped off her pants, her heart racing as she reached under her shirt to unclasp her bra. Her nipples tightened at the touch of cool air, and she bit her lip as she began to explore herself with trembling fingers.

Following the instructions in the book, she touched herself gently, learning the landscape of her own body. It was like reading a map she'd had her whole life but never truly understood. Each stroke and caress brought new sensations, and she marveled at the way her skin responded to her own touch. It was as if she'd been speaking a language she never knew she knew.

Her breath grew ragged as she delved deeper, her eyes glued to the pages that detailed every nuance of pleasure. The book was a guide to a world she'd only ever glimpsed, and now she felt like a pioneer, forging her own path. Her hand grew more insistent, her hips rising to meet her touch. The house was quiet, save for the distant murmur of the TV, and she could almost believe she was alone in the universe.

The first time she reached her peak, it was a shock—like being struck by lightning, her body arching off the bed. She gasped, her eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling. It was nothing like the half-hearted attempts she'd made before. This was pure, unadulterated pleasure, and it was all hers. She felt a sense of power and control she hadn't experienced in years.

But in the aftermath of her orgasm, Mandy heard it—a soft creak from the hallway. Panic set in, and she froze, her heart hammering in her chest. The TV was too loud for anyone to have heard her from the living room, so it had to be Brad. She listened closely, the only sound the rhythmic thumping of her heart. The creak came again, louder this time, and she knew beyond a doubt that he was standing outside her door.

Her mind raced as she scrambled to pull her shirt down and cover herself. What was he doing there? Did he know what she was doing? The thought of her brother hearing her in such a vulnerable state was mortifying. She waited, her breath held, for what felt like an eternity before the footsteps retreated, the sound of the living room door opening and closing.

With a mix of relief and disappointment, she realized she was alone again. The moment of excitement had passed, leaving her feeling exposed and a little bit lonely. She looked back down at the book, her cheeks still flushed with arousal. The image of Brad's cock flashed through her mind, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of envy—not just for Tiffany, but for Brad himself. Why couldn't she find a man like that?

But the book had given her a new idea, one that was both terrifying and tantalizing. If Brad had what she needed, why not just take it? It wasn't like he'd miss one night of pleasure with Tiffany, and it wasn't like he'd ever suspect his own sister. The thought grew in her mind like a weed, wrapping around her inhibitions and squeezing until they were nothing but dust.

Mandy waited until the house was dark and still, her heart racing as she tiptoed to Brad's room. She could hear the low rumble of his snores through the door. With trembling hands, she turned the doorknob, her senses heightened. The room was bathed in moonlight, casting a ghostly glow over Brad's naked form, sprawled across the bed. His muscles rippled in the soft light, and she could see the outline of his cock, thick and heavy even in sleep.

Her own body responded to the sight, a warmth spreading between her legs that she couldn't ignore. She took a step closer, her mind racing with doubt and desire. What was she doing? This was her brother—it was wrong on every level. But the thought of finally feeling that legendary size, of experiencing the pleasure that eluded her with every other man, was too tempting.

Her hand hovered over the blanket, her pulse echoing in her ears. The room smelled faintly of his cologne and something else—something uniquely male. She swallowed hard, and then with one swift move, she pulled the blanket away, exposing him fully to the cold air.

Brad's cock lay thick and heavy against his thigh, the size of it making her knees wobble. She'd never seen anything so... substantial. The sight of it made her own hand look small and insignificant. But she had a newfound confidence now—she knew what to do with it.

Her hand hovered over his skin, the heat of his body beckoning her. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the velvety softness of his cock. He stirred in his sleep, and she held her breath, but he didn't wake. Instead, his cock began to swell, filling with blood as it grew harder under her touch. She couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride—she was the one making him react this way, not Tiffany or any other girl he'd been with.

Mandy straddled him, her own naked body sliding against his, her wetness coating his thighs. She took his cock in her hand, marveling at its weight and heat. The book's instructions played in her mind like a pornographic symphony, and she knew exactly what to do next. She positioned herself over him, her pussy aching to feel what she'd only ever heard about in whispers and inadequate fumblings from her past lovers.

With one hand on his cock, guiding it, and the other bracing herself on his broad chest, she lowered herself onto him. The sensation was overwhelming, the size of him stretching her in ways she'd never felt before. She bit back a moan, her eyes fluttering shut as she began to move, the sound of their bodies coming together mingling with Brad's soft snores.

The initial pain gave way to a deep, pulsating pleasure that seemed to resonate through every cell of her body. Each stroke brought her closer to the edge, and she clutched the bed sheets, her teeth digging into her bottom lip to keep from crying out. This was what she'd been missing, what every other guy had failed to give her. It was like finally finding the last piece of a puzzle that had been driving her crazy for years.

Brad's body tensed beneath her, and she felt a thrill of power knowing she was the one causing his reaction. She could feel his cock throbbing inside her, and she knew he was close to waking up. But she didn't stop, her hips moving faster now, chasing the orgasm that was building like a storm in her core. It was almost too much to bear—the guilt, the excitement, the sheer wrongness of it all.

As she reached the peak, she felt Brad's hand come up to grip her hip, his eyes flying open. For a split second, she thought she was caught, but instead of pushing her away, he groaned in his sleep, his grip tightening as if to pull her closer. The realization that he was enjoying this, even if he didn't know it was her, sent her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her like a wave, her body convulsing with pleasure as she rode out the most intense climax of her life.