It was a hot summer, and a frustrating one. I'd just finished my senior year of college and was working at my father's electrical repair shop before heading to graduate school for engineering. I'd done the job for years and, believe it or not, I enjoyed it. But even without four years of drought, summers are intense in Los Angeles, and spending all day climbing over a customer's roof because he's not sure what kind of cable setup he's got - while good exercise - can be a real headache. But that was a small part of my frustration.
For probably the last time, the whole family was living at home, and that included the lion's share of my frustration, my sister Monica. She had just turned twenty and was home for the summer break, sweet as ever, keeping out of my parents' way and for the most part keeping to herself. It was unusual for her, who had usually been so outgoing, and for me to not see her leaving with her girlfriends or making plans with her latest guy. Instead she'd spent those first few weeks back from college in relative quiet, rearranging her room, sunbathing in the backyard, or sitting on the couch watching Netflix.
My parents said nothing, and it was possible they hadn't noticed or were just happy to have her home again. But I noticed. My sister and I had always been close and I couldn't see her new behavior as anything but a slump.
And, if I'm being honest, that was not the only thing I saw.
Again, it was hot that summer, and all of us were making due, but my sister especially seemed to eschew her normal clothing for a very different style. It wasn't just that she wore less; it was how she wore it. Often I would come home from a long day outside, grab a beer, and pass the living room to see my sister staring at the television, oblivious to the world around her. She wore the same t-shirts she'd always worn - the ones she felt comfortable wearing in the house - but seldom with a bra. And while I normally consider myself pretty good at minding my own business, my sister did not have the kind of body it was easy to ignore.
Perhaps she had always been this way and the heat had brought it more to the fore. Perhaps it was the handful of pounds she'd gained at college that brought out her full figure. And perhaps I'd never really seen her wearing a bellyshirt without a bra, or shorts that were so short she couldn't have worn anything underneath. That was the other distracting element I noticed while passing her on the couch that day. She had her fist pushed into her temple with her elbow propped against the couch, her knee up and the other crossed under her and pointed at the television. Her long, smooth legs practically shined in the afternoon light and met together under the ragged hems of her shorts. The position she was in, her lap was pointed toward me, and the shorts were loose enough that I could see where one leg ended and...she...began. Smooth pink lips shaved bare, resting in the barest shadow of what could barely be considered clothes.
Meanwhile, the shapes of her breasts under the tight shirt were unmistakable, and they were full enough that they jiggled with even her smallest movements. Case in point, the way she turned and smiled at me where I stood in the kitchen. "Hey," she said.
I nodded, and raised my glass to my forehead. I felt even hotter now.
"Busy day?" she asked.
"Yeah, dad's got us replacing the wires in the high school. It's weird being there and not recognizing anyone but the teachers."
"You're getting old, Johnny."
I drank ruefully. "Tell me about it."
"You look good, though. You running again?"
"When I get up early enough. It's too hot otherwise."
"I know. Look at this." My sister stretched out her shirt. I'm sure she meant for me to look at the long trail of sweat that ran down to the hem, but it was impossible to ignore the way her cleavage gently bunched up in the neck.
Was I really that horny? I asked myself. Kim and I had broken up in the middle of last year; we still saw each other occasionally, still slept together, but that happened less as the year went on and I hadn't been with anyone since. Not really. I tried to make myself feel better by telling myself I just appreciated that my sister was a beautiful woman.
And she was, all five feet and few inches of her, sassy and cute, with her upturned nose and bright eyes that weren't quite green, her mess of dirty blonde hair. Her skin was just a shade under the pale that would have made the sun unbearable. She can, and did, tan. There had always been something much bigger about her than her height. Her smile was as prominent as her bust, but that, I now saw, was all the more noticeable for how small she was elsewhere.
"I haven't seen you off that couch much," I said, trying to change the subject. "Are you and Rob still seeing each other?"
She shrugged, which told me nothing. "I just...I dunno."
"What?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing."
My big brother instincts kicked in, overriding my more lecherous thoughts. "If something was wrong, you'd tell me, right?"
"Mmhmm."
And that was that. I went about the rest of my day, and things went on as before, for another week.
But little things started becoming clearer to me. How long she'd stay in her room, how nervous she seemed in general. And every time I passed her, no matter what she was wearing, I just had the impression that something was at work, something was gnawing at her, bothering her...
One morning, the two of us were in the kitchen, mom and dad were upstairs, and I was doing my damnedest not to notice Moni was wearing nothing at all underneath a loose, button-up blouse. Perhaps half of the buttons were actually buttoned.
I was reading up on the day's itinerary and she was absently munching on toast. More accurately, I was trying to stop myself from stealing glances right down her shirt and she was staring out the window like a zombie.
Finally, I coughed, and she turned to me, mid-munch, her cheeks still full of toast. "Hmm?" she murmured.
"Moni, your, uh..." I tried to point anywhere but directly at her. "I can almost see your-"
"Wha?" For a moment, it was as if I'd actually pulled her out of the atmosphere and forced her back to Earth. She stared at me, uncomprehending, until she finally followed my wiggling finger down to her cleavage. "Oh!" she said, a bit of toast flying out. She cupped her hand over her mouth and began to giggle.
I sighed.
Monica struggled to finish her mouthful of toast, her finger dangling over her softly swaying assets. "Mm-mm-sorry." She licked her thumb and finger and hooked them over the open flap of her shirt. "Does this bother you?"
"No," I said quickly, "it' s just-"
"This doesn't bother you?" She flipped the shirt open and shut, quick enough to blow her napkin away, but slow enough to give me a single, stunning glimpse of her full breast and its perky pink nipple. Its very pink nipple.
My face must have said it all. This time Monica let fly with a full-blown laugh, her cheeks turning red behind her hands. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. Your face."
"I, uh-" I closed my itinerary and got up to go. "Well alright then."
Looking abashed (and still on the verge of laughter), Monica stood up with me. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I can't believe I did that. I've been- I'm sorry."
It was my turn to laugh. "It's- You just surprised me." I stuck my papers in my bag and swung it over my shoulder. But I hesitated. "You've been what?"
"In a mood," she said. She folded her hands awkwardly at her waist. She still had not buttoned her shirt and it hung open, nearly to her bellybutton, the sides of her breasts plump and snug against each other. "In a weird mood."
"You want to talk about it?"
She grinned and turned red again, reaching up to her thick hair and scratching it, not realizing how much of her moved with the gesture and then quickly shutting her shirt with both hands. "Ah! Uh, yeah. Maybe. Sorry. I can't focus lately."
"Is it the drugs?" I asked. "Are you on the drugs?"
"No drugs, big brother." She smiled glumly. "Drugs would be more fun."
"Well talk to me about it."
She looked away and played with her shirt. "You're busy."
"I'm not busy this Sunday. Why don't I take you to Venice? You could get outside. We could talk. I know something's up. You've been weird."
"How have I been weird?" Her eyes got very big.
"Not weird-weird. Just, I know when something's wrong, and I don't know if something's wrong, but something's not right."
She sighed, and for a moment her shoulders relaxed, her fingers stopped twiddling. "Yeah," she said. She squeezed her thighs together. "Sunday?"
"Sunday."
She kissed me on the cheek and we went our separate ways for the day.
* * *
Sunday came quickly, and that afternoon we were walking down the boardwalk and confronting all of the bizarre smells and funky people that inhabit Venice, California. I was in board shorts and a muscle T and Monica was in...some sort of purple mesh that was more shredded than shirt and a black tube top that hardly helped. Every time she skipped ahead of me, I got a view of her ragged white cutoffs. Her ass cheeks were hanging out of her shorts, and her black boots jingled every time she jiggled.
We talked a lot about school and how she still wasn't sure about her major. We talked about my relationships, the good and the bad. We talked about work. We talked about her lack of work. We talked about boredom and summer and how hot it was. And then she mentioned, sort of in passing, that she had spent most of the summer masturbating.
It was so frank and sudden that I didn't laugh or recoil. I just sighed with an immense sense of relief.
Her eyebrows shot up to show how impressed she was by my reaction. "You're not...?"
"Surprised?" I said. I shook my head. "I know my sister, Moni. I knew something was up but I didn't know what. And I never would have guessed that. Well-" I thought for a moment. "I might have guessed that."
"Why?" she asked.
"You've been giving off this-"
"Smell?" she exclaimed.
"What? Of course not, no-"
"Thank God. Because I've been trying everything: Vibrators, pillows, beads, glass dildos-"
"-aura," I finished, but barely able to do so.
"Jesus, I'm sorry. 'Aura?'" she repeated.
"You're practically in heat."
In a heartbeat, Monica's cheeks turned cherry red. She put her hands to them in a gesture of innocent embarrassment. "Oh my god, is it that obvious?"
I laughed aloud, and for a moment my body went in two very different directions. The older brother in me wanted to pat her on the head and say forget about it; the other part of me couldn't help but react to that abashed but still mischievous grin.
I shrugged, trying to suppress the laugh that had done nothing to ease her embarrassment. "It happens."
"No," she groaned. "No, John, it's so bad. I'm sorry. I just can't help it. It's never been like this before."
Monica was not a virgin. I knew that much. I had caught her with a boyfriend at least once and ignored the sounds behind her closed door enough times while I was sneaking out of the house myself. Still... "And what was 'before' like?"
"Oh, I don't know!" She flushed again, and then slapped my shoulder. "Stop laughing!"
I batted at her fingers. "I'm not."
"You are!" She almost growled. "It's just... You know I've- God. I had sex in high school but it's different. I don't know. I feel like a boy sometimes."
"Don't pigeonhole yourself. Girls get horny, too."
"I know," she said. She chewed at her fingernails and we stepped out of the way of a few vendors hawking their wares. "It's just, this summer, ever since the end of school, I..." She blew her hair out of her face. "You don't want to hear this."
"I do," I said. I did.
"I just. I...ache. I don't know how else to put it. It's like as soon as Rob and I broke up I've just - look, I'm not a slut or anything, but - I've just been so horny."
"Total slut," I said.
She punched my arm. "John!"
I couldn't stop laughing. She punched at me again, and then she grabbed at my arm when I wouldn't - couldn't - stop. Eventually she threw all 100 pounds of herself at me and after a moment of perilous swaying she was on top of me and I was carrying her on my back. She stopped trying to choke me after a block and snuggled happily against the back of my neck, her arms locked under my chin. "You're strong," she said.
"You're not very heavy."
She really wasn't. I carried her through the crowd on the boardwalk, the two of us silent, watching, thinking. I tried not to think of the way her breasts lightly bobbed against my shoulder blades with every step. She was soft there, more firm along her abdomen. Her thighs were meaty but there was muscle in there, and she was warm. Kim's breasts had been very different - higher and perkier. Monica's, I could tell, had a very different consistency. They bobbed against me, and would fit in either hand like soft gelatin. Walking became more difficult as I became more aware of her breath on my neck, and that I was imagining what my sister's breasts felt like. She had very pink nipples - I knew that without a doubt.
"It's normal," I said at last. To her. (What I was thinking was anything but.)
"I know," she grumbled.
"No, I mean it. I get like that, too. Even more so after a breakup. You're used to sex, and the well is tapped out."
"It's not just that," said Monica. "Rob and me, we're not exactly broken up. We kind of sort of left it open at the end of the year. It's just this mood I've been in, and I'm also...put me down?"
I let her slide down off my back and tried to tell myself I didn't care about the way the soft skin of her thighs ran down my fingertips. She flipped her mound of hair back and grinned at me, then squeezed my hand. She fell into step beside me. "I've also just been thinking about...there's stuff I want to do that I don't think...I wouldn't ever know how to ask."
That made no sense to me, so I just said, "Huh?"
"Well, okay, what's a fantasy you've always had?"
"With a girl?"
"No, with a hedgehog."
"Oh," I said. I racked my brain. "I dunno. Catholic schoolgirl uniform."
"That's so played out."
"Well excuse me."
She bit her lip. "I bet you've already done that, though."
I nodded. A guy was selling soda next to a pizza stand and I bought us two. Monica sipped on a Sprite thoughtfully before she spoke again. "Was it Denise?"
I laughed. "There have been...a few ladies to do that for me."
"But you just asked them, right? You said, 'hey, I want to fuck you in a schoolgirl uniform.'"
I tried to play it off for the briefest of moments and then decided, fuck it, we've gone this far down the rabbit hole. I nodded.
"What else?"
"Geez, do you want every filthy thing I've done?"
"Well. No, but..."
I wanted to laugh but this time I kept it inside. I could see that the conversation was embarrassing her, but she slogged on anyway and this, after all, was what I'd wanted. I made a very visible show of not laughing and gestured for her to continue.
"I mean, is there anything more taboo?"
"Well, your standard rape roleplay, I guess. Handcuffs. Butt stuff."
"You're such a guy."
"Thank you," I said.
"But you never had a problem asking?"
"Sure, sometimes, for the really weird stuff. But it depends on some things, you know? If we're drunk enough, if we trust each other enough. I mean, with Brandy, for instance, I trusted her as far as I could throw her, but she was a very randy girl-"
"Randy Brandy."
"Indeed. We did stuff I've never done with anyone, because she was up for it. I mean, with Kim, I would have felt weird about getting into weirder stuff just because..." I shrugged. "She was daintier?"
"That's what I'm talking about," said Monica. "There's some stuff I just don't think I'd be comfortable asking. Most stuff. And I want..." She reached out into the air, as if there was something just out of her reach.
"Well, I'm sure you'll get there."
She rolled her eyes at me. "Yeah, but I'm horny now."
"That's not my business."
She grabbed onto my arm, trying to pull me down to the sidewalk. "Well, you asked."
"Well, I did."
We continued to walk like that, she leaning on me, me holding her up. Her hair pushed into my shoulder and I smelled her shampoo.
"Name one thing you want to do that you'd be scared to ask for."
"One thing?" she said. She bit her lip again. She looked around. "Can we go this way?" She pointed down one of the alleys and we left the crowd and moved into the quiet shadows between the beach houses. "Okay," she said, taking a sip of Sprite. "I want to..." She grinned and blushed and shook her head. "I'm small, right?"
"You're petite, yeah."
"Most times I've been laid I've been - you know - missionary. On the bottom. I want to be on the top..." I laughed - couldn't help it - and she slugged me hard. "I wasn't finished!"
"Sorry!" I said.
"I don't just want to be on top, I want to be...you know, in total control. I want to just be on the guy and just...own him."
That was interesting. "Go on."
"I want to use him, as my personal fuck toy."
"Like rape?"
"Not exactly," she said. "Maybe a little? I want to get on a guy when he's...sleeping. But he can't wake up. And I just want to ride him. You know, make all the moves myself, until I'm done."
I coughed. "You could use a dil-"
"It's not the same. I want a man under me. A real man. Living, breathing, with a cock that works. And I want to be the one working it."
Walking was a little more difficult after I heard her say that. "Okay," I said, a little impressed. "That is a little more complex than just being on top."
"But," she sighed, "I've never been with a guy I trusted to not laugh at me - first of all." She glared at me. "But who I thought could actually go through with it. Not just do it but stay hard and not cum until...until I've cum."
"I mean, I can imagine-" Wrong phrase. "I mean, with you as horny as you are, it would be...a challenge."
"This conversation has gotten me very horny," she said, no less red than when we'd began.
I let out a sharp sigh.
"I mean," she continued, unable to look directly at me, "I just keep thinking about it. At night, I can't sleep. I just think about sneaking into a guy's room and seeing him there, naked, his cock just...up. You know, like how hard it gets when a guy's asleep? And, I'm just so wet, and I just slide down him and ride. God, cumming, and then feeling him shoot in me?"
"That's enough, I think." I could see how flushed she'd become - a whole other shade of red - and if I had to listen to much more I'd have to sit down for a while.
She wrapped her fingers around her face. "Oh God, I'm sorry. That's too much, isn't it? That's way too much. I'm sorry."
I shook my head. "It's fine, Moni. Let's get back to the car."
"Do you think I'm gross?"
"I do not." I kept walking, and she trailed after me. Again, I tried to ignore the soft parts of her that bobbed as she ran.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're very horny. And it happens."
"Look at me, John!" She reached out to my hand, grabbed it, and I spun. She was surprisingly strong in that instant.
She was shivering. It was over eighty degrees out and she was shaking like a leaf. Her hand, so tight on me, suddenly went limp, and her eyes were glossy, misty. "I'm so-" she was panting now. Hyperventilating?
"Calm down," I said. "It's fine."
Her chest just kept rising and falling, the hem of her shirt riding up her slit of a bellybutton. Her stomach quivered. I put my hand on her waist. "Moni, it's fine."
"I need-" she said.
"What?"
And then her fingers were on my cheeks and her nails were digging into my jaw. She pulled me down, against the tiny garage of one of those beachtown condos, and pulled my mouth onto her frail, wet lips. Before I knew what was up and where was down her tongue snaked out and it was lapping against mine. I nearly fell, and she pulled me in tighter. Her legs opened wide and I was pinned against her. My sister heaved her chest up and put it on me. "Do you feel?" she gasped into my mouth. "I want it so bad right now..."
My hand was on her breast. I don't know which of us put it there, and she was grinding her crotch into my groin. "Wrong," I managed to gasp out.
"Take me, John-"
My fingers bit into the skin of her ass, and then she was grinding, her shorts riding up. She cried out-
"Whoa! No!" We flew apart like we'd been hit by a car and I raised my hands up above my head. "Okay, no. Whoa."
Her lip was bleeding, and she looked at me with an expression equal parts despair and anger. And then she ran.
"Monica!" I ran after her, down the echoing alleyway, catching her only just before another set of identical and byzantine condominiums. "Hey!" I grabbed her arm and swung her around.
"I'm sorry!" she shouted. "Just fucking leave me alone!"
"Hey!" I said. "Calm down. It's okay."
"It is NOT okay!"
"Well-" I started. I stopped. "Well, I suppose not. But it's fine."
Monica brushed the hair out of her face and swallowed hard. "I didn't mean that...what I said. I don't want you to-"
"It's okay."
"I just...we were talking. I got confused."
"Me too."
"I want to go home now."
So we did.
* * *
We spent most of the car ride in silence, and by the time we got home it was dark and the lights were on in the living room and kitchen, meaning mom and dad were home. Monica fled the car before I'd even pulled it into the driveway, forcing me to crank up the parking brake and fumble with the seatbelt in an effort to catch her.
I had to grab at her for the second time today in the narrow space behind her gate between our backyard and the fence. If I hadn't, she would have jumped the backyard and been gone at Stephanie's house for who knows how long.
"Mon," I said gently.
"Shut-up, John!"
I swung her around into my arms, holding her by the waist until she stopped trying to squeeze out of my grip. Eventually, in exasperation, she quit struggling and collapsed against my chest. "You're stupidly strong," she said.
"And big. Don't forget big."
She groaned into my chest.
"Kid, it's okay."
"It's so not okay..." Her mound of hair rolled against my chest.
I reached down and gently hooked her chin under my finger. "Listen to me-"
"Stop babying me!" she said.
"Okay," I said, but I didn't unhook my hands from her waist. "Don't disappear."
"I won't," she said. She looked at me and quickly glanced away. "You think I'm a freak."
"I don't."
She actually pouted a little bit. "I could be a freak..."
This girl... "Whether you are or you aren't, I'm your brother," I said. "So I'm obligated to put up with you."
This seemed to make some impression on her, but instead of nodding she just pulled slightly away, locking her own wrists behind my back and glancing at me sidelong. "What if you weren't my brother?"
"But I am."
"But if you weren't?"
"What do you want me to say?"
She grinned sheepishly. "Do you think I'm pretty?"
"Of course."
She bit her lip. "Do you think I'm fuckable?"
"We're getting into freak territory now."
She grinned madly. "Good."
I shook my head, swinging her slightly from side to side. In our position, her waist was pinned against mine, and I could feel a warmth there...
"If we were just friends," she said, "and I needed help, you'd help, right?"
"You're scheming right now. I'm not hooking you up with any of my friends. I don't want that on my conscience."
She giggled. "I dunno. Brodie's pretty cute."
"Uh-huh."
"But I don't think he'd take care of me - like you would."
"Yeah, well..."
Monica glanced briefly at the closed and darkened window at the side of the house, then slid closer to me, pushing her body once more into my chest. She pointed her nose up at me and spoke softer. "If we were friends..." she whispered.
"Yes."
"But we're more than friends."
Tenderly, she went up on her toes and kissed my chin, her eyes never leaving mine. Damn me for a fool, but that look in her eyes was at once dear and undeniable, and I couldn't pull away from it. We kissed, softly, secretly, on the lips. "You won't hurt me," she whispered into my mouth. "You won't judge me."
"This is a bad idea."
She slid her hand from around my waist, took mine, and ran it up her belly and into her shirt. "You do what I want, I'll let you do whatever you want..."
"You can find someone else-" I started, but of course I didn't pull my hand away. Her breast, her whole body, was on fire.
"I don't want someone else," she said. Her voice was still a dark, hungry whisper, her eyes bright pinpoints in the dark. "Not right now. I need you inside me. Tonight." She reached out and closed the gate behind us.
"This isn't something that can ever be undone." Sounds valiant, doesn't it? But my voice was breaking and my cock was rigid. Pressed into her waist, she was well aware.
"So?" she said. "We're related, yeah. But we're friends. We're adults."
"Only legally," I said.
She smirked. She pressed her body harder into mine. "Could you stay hard while I'm on top? While I'm using you...?"
My heart was beating so fast, if I answered it might bounce right out of my mouth. When I finally did find my voice, I said, "You'd have to be quiet..."
"I won't wake mom and dad," she said. There was very little of the scared little sister left in her now. Her voice was devious, excited. "Besides, that's part of the fantasy, right? I don't want to wake you either."
We broke apart, sliding softly from each other's hands. "Am I doing this just because you're too horny to leave the house?" I asked.
"You're doing this because you want to fuck me, too," she said. "Admit it."
My cock was straining inside my pants. And she was right. I wanted to fuck her right there, against the house. The look in her eye, I think she'd only be too happy to oblige. "And this..." I said instead. "After this, what?"
"What do you think?" she said. "It'd be an awfully long summer if you didn't let me try out...some other things."
"You don't even know if you'll like it."
"Oh, big brother..." When she said it, it sent a chill down my spine. She wiggled her hips a little, coming closer, smiling. "If I don't like it," she slid down on her knees, "you can just make me like it..."
I didn't even try to stop her. I just watched her fingers work the button of my jeans, the zipper. I looked up once, behind us at the dark neighbor's house. Again at our darkened window. I felt the cool rush of the night air hit my naked cock, and my sister's gasp. "BIG brother," she murmured. And then I looked down and my sister was putting her mouth on my cock.
"Ah, Moni..."
She slid it over her tongue without hesitation. I groaned as she took inch after inch, deeper. It was too much to bear, and I leaned up against the house, my hand keeping me standing, and by reflex pushed my hips forward.
"Mm-mm," my sister moaned under me. She let me thrust again, into her mouth.
My other hand rested on her blonde head as I thrust my hips forward to fuck my sister's mouth. "Anytime," she gasped, pulling her lips away and using her hand to stroke me (the fingers barely reached around my shaft). "Anytime you want my mouth, Johnny. Your little sister..." She swallowed me. Spat on it. "I'll take care of you."
"You are a little slut," I groaned.
That pleased her. She moaned into my cock. "Your slut," she gasped, her voice thick with the spit and cum that coated her throat.
"We should go," I groaned, planting both hands atop her hand and sliding myself back through her lips anyway.
"Mm-hmmm," she moaned, staring up at me. It was too much to take. That morning I'd been staring at her giggling as she showed me her tit. Tonight, here we were, my pants around my ankles in our backyard and she on her knees, letting me feed her my cock.
"You're big, Johnny. So big." She held it in her hands, as if measuring it. "You're going to have to help me get it inside."
It took a supreme act of will to extract myself from that beautiful mouth, but somehow I pulled it off. Monica let out a crushing little moan and reached for me, almost desperate to bring me back to her soft lips, but I rested my hand on her cheek and shook my head.
"If you want me as hard as your fantasy, you can't finish me yet." My cock pulsed impatiently, almost as desperate to return to her tongue as she was to drain me.
"I want you to finish all over my face," she said with a wicked whisper.
I grinned and bent down to meet her gaze, waiting (and prepared to wait a while) for my cock to shrink enough to fit back into my pants. "That would be a little hard to explain to mom and dad."
She sighed. Then, "Won't you pop as soon as I - as soon as we - tonight?"
"I wouldn't be very much good to you if I did."
Monica bit her lip. Her brow creased as she gazed at my cock longingly, and then deep into my eyes. "And how good are you, big brother?"
"Good enough to give you what you need."
"I need it," she said, her voice catching in her throat as she kissed my mouth once more. "I need it so bad, Johnny. Thank you," she said, her tongue snaking out and the taste of me coming with her. We kissed for a long time, but that did nothing to assuage my raging hardon, so, at last, I pulled her away. I told her to go inside and tell mom and dad I was on the phone. I'd be in when I could.
As she got up I dabbed a sparkling bit of cum from the corner of her mouth, and she did the same for me.
I guess it was a terrible thing we'd done, and were about to do, but of course that made it all the more desirable. And in some twisted way, the fact that it was me, I knew, made her feel safer, stronger, and, if possible, hornier. Maybe a part of me was doing this for purely altruistic reasons, but there was a deep, insatiable part that just wanted this wild girl to ride my cock - and damn the world if it told us it could never be.
Monica must have felt the same way, because before she turned back to the garage she brushed my arm with her fingers. We didn't say anything. We just shared a gaze. A deep, meaningful gaze, secret and stark, unsmiling and absent of any flirtation. Her eyes searched mine, perhaps looking for the words to say what was in her heart - the good and the ill - but saw there was no need. I was as committed as she. Our lust had carried us this far and would carry us over that final precipice. And once over it, no, things wouldn't be the same, but we were willing to experience that ultimate taboo together.
She squeezed my bicep hungrily, and turned away.
* * *
It was weird, eating dinner in that house, with our parents asking us about the day, and summer, and our plans. I usually didn't say much anyway, and I was so lost in thought the minutes just flew by. But Monica, who was always bubbling over with chit-chat, told me it was the longest hour of her life.
As we ate, her toes crept shyly over mine beneath the table. I munched on my green beans, pretending to be oblivious, driving her crazy with the level of Zen I'd reached - or needed to reach - in preparation for the mighty sin we'd planned for that night.
We discussed it all after dinner. While mom took phone calls in her office and dad fiddled with the satellite, we sat on the couch pretending to ignore each other while we lost ourselves online. In reality, we were instant messaging, and Monica told me exactly how she wanted it to go.
After we'd all turned in for the evening, she'd come to my room. I was to be completely naked and lying flat on my bed. That was really all I needed to do - that and not cum until she'd done so herself. It was a good thing I did kegels, because I knew she wasn't going to make it easy for me.
I kept reminding her that she would have to be quiet while she fucked me (I had a feeling my sister was a screamer), and she kept telling me she knew - but every time she did I'd gaze up from my computer and she'd glance away, embarrassed. "Big brother knows best," was all she typed.
We agreed on a safe word. We might not even need one, but the more detail she got into about what she wanted to do to my sleeping body, the more it seemed like a healthy precaution. I'm a pretty big guy, and my sister fairly petite, but I was pretty sure once she was in control she wouldn't stop until her basest urges were satisfied. After many silly suggestions, she finally decided on "Lannister" (by far the silliest, and also soundest, choice).
I did ask her if she wanted me to wear a condom, but she assured me she was on the pill. And besides, sliding a naked, sleeping cock inside herself was a big part of her fantasy - the risk - the violation - the feel. The fact that it would be mine - her unknowing, responsible older brother - well, at that point she lost the ability to type, slammed her computer closed and dashed upstairs. She told me later she'd started masturbating immediately after locking her door, and didn't stop until nearly midnight.
It did nothing to slow her down.
* * *
Unlike my sister, I actually slept that night. I said goodnight to my parents around 9pm and headed upstairs, showered, brushed my teeth, and settled into my bed, naked, watching the ceiling fan. The weight of the day fell down on me like a soft, heavy weight, and I had just enough mind left to turn off the light before drifting away. My parents went to sleep not long after; Monica said they stopped murmuring around 10:30.
She waited as long as she could.
One hour. Two hours.
Even now, I can't imagine what her little heart was going through in those endless hours, hammering against her ribs and making her beautiful breasts bounce with every beat. She had to be sure all was quiet, had to be sure she could make her way from one end of our familiar hall to the other, undetected.
It was almost 1am when she opened her door, turning the knob so softly it barely made a sound at all, pulling it back and sliding it closed behind her. How many times had she done just that in high school to meet Stephanie and her gang? It was rare that she'd escaped to meet a boy - maybe once or twice, she'd told me, and even then she never stayed long. She was never that desperate then, never that amused by the boys who convinced her to go. It was better to risk the punishment for late night drives in the car with her girlfriends when there was nothing else to do but be young and unfettered.
Now she was 20, her lithe legs bare, her thin t-shirt clinging to her body as she made her escape once more - not to a waiting car but to the closed door of her elder brother.
She turned the knob with the same endless agony that had turned her own, reflecting, as I often did, that on any other night she could make the same trip between our doors without care and wake not a single soul in the house. But tonight was different. Tonight she wanted to be absolutely sure she woke no one - least of all the one inside.
I think I woke when she slid the door shut behind her - that instinctual sense that someone is near you alerting my animal brain - but I know I was awake when she first called my name.
"Johnny?" It was a breathless, almost hoarse whisper. "Johnny, are you awake?"
I lay motionless, my naked body cold from lying under the fan but my heart already beating like mad.
"Johnny," Monica whispered, her feet softly padding on the carpet, coming closer in the near darkness. The moon was gone, hidden away. "Johnny, I couldn't sleep... I was so..."
She came around the bed, to the foot of it, and stood there. Softly, very softly, the mattress shifted as she sunk her hands into its surface. "Oh...you're..." A shaking, tentative hand brushed my ankle. "You're naked..."
A little gasp from her. Hearing her voice had already started the blood flowing to my cock.
"Oh! You're...hard..."
In that darkness, in that silence, the sound of her fingers sliding through my sheets was like an avalanche, and the sound of her breath rising over me like a wind. "It's...it's so big..." she whispered, her knee creeping up next to my calf. And then, the same tentative touch, shaking even harder now, her breath even louder. "It's so hard..."
Then my sister did something a man would have to be comatose to ignore. She dragged her tongue from the base of my shaft (down in the depths of my scrotum) to the very tip of my head, lovingly tracing the line of my vein. She let out a deep, deep moan.
She slid her hands against my waist and slid her mouth down my shaft, opening her throat to try and fit it all. She straddled my naked thigh, and I could feel that she was naked from the waist down, her labia wet and warm and shaved. She began to grind it into my leg.
"Oh, Johnny...I'm so wet," she gasped over my cock. "I'm...Oh, God."
Monica leaned back and took her shirt by the hem, sliding it off her body in one smooth motion. I regretted that I wouldn't get a look at her breasts as they fell heavily from that skimpy shirt, nor grasp them as she straddled me, but that anticipation, and knowing I had to keep myself as motionless as possible, only made me harder.
Her palms slid up my cut abdominals, up the hairs on my chest. She grasped the muscles in my shoulders, and pushed down as she lifted her hips. "Johnny? Are you awake?" she whispered. She began to slide her hips around, rubbing the head of my cock against her wet pussy. "Big brother?" The head poked easily into her snatch. "Oh..." She sank it down, down until the head popped in. "Oh, God..."
She sank down, and sank down, and sank down, her buttocks quivering all the while, the muscles in her thighs like industrial cables as they gripped me. My cock slid into her as easily as a greased piston, and yet she was still tight, still as tense as a coiled wire. My sister sank down on my cock until I was fully inside, and then her whole body shuddered. I had filled her, and that was what she had been craving all summer.
"Ohh..." she groaned. "Oh fuck..."
She pushed down into my chest, her ass rising up until my cockhead was perched just at the entrance of her body, and then she let herself drop back down, her buttocks resting on my balls. "Ahn..." she gasped. Her hands slid up my chest again, to my neck, and her thumbs dug into my adam's apple. "Don't wake up," she pleaded. One hand slid up my face and dug into my scalp. She raised herself up and slammed herself back down on top of me. She groaned again, her grip tightening on my neck and scalp. Her pussy gripped my naked member.
"That's it," she grunted, shifting herself forward with me still inside her. She didn't rise up this time but moved her hips only, gyrating in my lap as she shifted my cock around. The bed creaked and strained as my sister used her powerful hips to grind on my cock and hit all of the places in her uterus she wanted to touch. "Ahh..." she gasped. Her toes curled against my calves. Her grip tightened around my neck. She rocked back and forth, soaking the base of my shaft in her prodigious cum. "Oh fuck..." she gasped.
She arched her back, sliding up, and slammed her ass down on me. "Ahn..." she grunted as softly as she could. She did it again, the slam of her buttocks on my thighs a wet, dirty sound. "Ah...!"
A quake started in her belly that radiated throughout her skin, shaking her breasts, vibrating her ass. She reached between her thighs and began to play with her clitoris. She had her toys, and she was using them, finding the limits of her pleasure.
My sister used my body. As fast or as slow as she liked, she did all the steering, shivering and shaking both from the waves of sensation rising from her pussy as much from the exertion of lifting her big, beautiful ass - again, and again, again. She fell into a rhythmic pounding, digging her palms deep into my chest as she slapped her pussy down on me. If mom or dad awoke, that sound would be unmistakable. But I wasn't going to tell her to stop.
As for me, it was everything in my power to stay motionless. Had I really been asleep - and somehow able to ignore all this - I would have tumbled from the bed long ago. If I didn't keep my stomach rigid, my ass tensed and my heels dug into the mattress, we both would have gone over, and that at least helped me to re-focus my energy as I desperately fought off the urge to cum inside my sister's hot, wet pussy. I wanted to touch her, wanted to grab that mop of thick, dangling hair and pull, flip her on her back and drive into her until she screamed, her legs opening uncontrollably as I lapped at her pillowy tits - but that was not the fantasy. The fantasy was that I was her sleeping brother and she was in control. The fantasy was that I was a big, hard cock for her to use at her pleasure. And she was - oh, how she was.
Free to try every position without fear of what I'd say or want, Monica gave every one a go as she impaled herself on my stiff member. She turned at one point, riding me with her hands planted on my knees and her legs together in my lap. She pulled me out and faced me again, then rolled me back and forth inside, her, reaching down at one point to fondle my balls as they wedged into the crack of her ass.
She bent down, dragging her tits along my naked chest, and rubbed her lips against mine. "It's so wrong, Johnny...but I can't help myself. Your cock is so nice..." she moaned softly into my mouth. "Don't cum in me, okay? Not in your horny, little sister... Don't wake up. I promise I'll never do it again, Johnny." She humped furiously against my cock. "I promise..." She grunted, her fingers digging into my hair. "I promise...ah, AHH!"
Unconsciously, I'd plunged into her, driving my hips up. Monica's whole body shuddered. "Oh God, baby. Do you like that? You like my tight, young cunt? Too bad you'll never be awake to enjoy it. You could fuck your tight little sister all night."
God, that was too much. I grabbed her hips with my hands and plunged again, driving her petite body up into the air with the force of my thrust. She screamed. "Ahh!"
We both froze. For a moment, we didn't even breathe, but that was impossible for long, given the beating of our hearts and our skins drenched in sweat. So we remained locked in that position, she straddling my hips, my fingers on her smooth ass, as we listened to the hallway just beyond my closed door. A minute ticked by, the two of us still locked together, my cock hard in her hot moistness, her hair sliding over my face.
We lingered that way until the momentum she'd built up had nearly dissipated. After another breathless moment, she bent down and kissed my mouth. I wasn't afraid to kiss back. "Do you want me?" she gasped.
"I want you."
"I don't...I don't think I can cum unless you really give it to me."
"How do you want it?"
"Bend me over."
"You have to be quiet."
"I'll scream into your mattress."
We were a tussle of limbs as we extricated and rearranged ourselves, but as soon as she had leaned off of my legs I was up and had her bent over the edge of my bed. Monica actually bit my sheet as I gripped her ass and forced my cock into her exposed pussy. "Ahnng!" she grunted. "Big brother, no!"
I slapped her beautiful ass and used my other hand to push her down into the mattress. She grabbed the edge with both her hands and then I dug my nails into her skin and fucked her like a dog.
"Oh God," she gasped into the sheets. "Oh God, Johnny."
I pulled her hair by the roots and listened to her moan as I fucked her even harder. The slap of my pelvis into her thighs was loud and getting louder. If we went on like this, there's no way my parents wouldn't hear.
Monica squirmed under me, struggling against my grip and loving every moment. "I'm sorry, Johnny! I couldn't help myself! It was so big!"
"You like that, you little whore?"
"No, Johnny, please! Don't cum in me!"
"You're going to cum on my cock, you little whore."
"Ahn!"
I slid my hand down her ass, slathering my thumb in her copious juices and then ringing around her puckered asshole. "Oh!" she gasped. "D-don't!" I popped it in, and her hips slithered in every direction. "No one's ever done that to me before- Ahn. Johnny!"
And I was fucking her, fucking her harder than I've ever fucked, and she was loving it, splattering my stomach with the thick fluids of her ceaseless lust. My balls swatted against her trapped thighs and our sweat flowed down to the pits behind her knees. "Unh!" Monica gasped as I bent her little body down, fucking her all the way. "Johnny, I'm- keep- th-that's it! Ahhh!"
She screamed into the mattress and I couldn't take a second more. I came in my sister, explosively and absolutely, flooding her tight canal with the pent up rage of this frustrating summer. We pulsated against each other, and Monica took me down to the last drop, her own body cumming freely now as we shared this final, satisfied sin.
I bent down over her and scooped her breasts up into my palms, squeezing her hard as I continued to cum, my teeth biting into her neck. She rocked with me, reaching up to caress the back of my neck as I took her hard, her other hand covering the one on her breast. We collapsed against each other, bent over the end of the bed, in a heap of wet sex.
When at last our orgasms had ebbed, we helped each other up and fell back into my pillows. Monica snuggled up into the little spoon position and pulled my arm over her body. "That..." she gasped, "wasn't quite what I was thinking. But it was...exactly...what I needed..."
"We can't...stay like this," I said, already drowsy.
"Well how else are you going to fuck me again?" she pouted.
"Again?"
She moaned as she reached behind her, and down, until her fingers rested on my flaccid member. "And again...and again...and again..."
This girl... I kissed her ear and ground against her. "We can't stay like this," I repeated.
"I'll go," she said. "I promise. Just let me stay a little longer. After a fuck like that, I need to be held..."
She did feel good against me. Her little body molded effortlessly onto mine, and we lay like that until we caught our breath.
"Do you think we woke them?" she whispered.
"Maybe. But if they thought hanky panky was going on they'd have been here by now."
"Yeah..." Monica rolled over until she was facing me in the dark. "Thank you for doing that," she said. "I know it must have been such a burden."
"No..." I said. She found my lips, and touched them tenderly with her own. "But we are bad, bad people now."
"Sure," she said. "Which means there's nothing stopping us from doing it again." She wiggled happily and reached down between her legs. "God, I'm more full of your cum than you are right now."
That made my cock twitch. I slid down her chest and cupped one big, soft breast. I licked it. Kissed it. She moaned into my hair. "Do you always talk this dirty?" I asked.
"Only when I'm being dirty..." she whispered back. "And you make me feel very dirty."
It shouldn't have been possible, but with some more dirty whispers and her fingers wrapped around my cock, I was soon hard again. This time she laid on her back as I slid it into her, and we fucked quietly, her legs wrapped around my hips and my tongue in her mouth.
"Ahn, take it, big brother. Take your baby sister's pussy..."
I pushed and she arched her back. "Fuck my wet pussy," she gasped. "I'm already full of your cum..."
She was. I could feel it.
* * *
Monica didn't want to leave my bed that night, so she got me to get up and lock my door.
"You're lucky you don't have a job," I told her as I rolled back into my sweat-stained sheets.
"Did you say you wanted a handjob?" she asked coyly.
"No-"
"Blowjob?"
"No-"
"Titjob?"
"No-" Though I couldn't stop thinking about any of them now.
Monica grinned as she snuggled up to me again. "Well, when you do, you can put me to work. You've got a lot of fucking to do, Mister."
"Well, when I go to my real job, you're going to have to hide in here until mom and dad are gone."
"I know how it works, Johnny. Just let me stay here for now."
"We can't make this a habit," I said. She didn't say anything, but I could feel her grin as she pressed her face into my stomach. "I mean it."
"Mmhmm."
"Just because you're my sister doesn't mean you can do whatever you want."
"Oh?" she said. She dragged her tits against me as she slid up to my face. "Does that mean you're going to punish me?"
I'd tell you how many more times we had sex that night, but I really can't recall.