He worked his hand up along my calf to my bent knee. The slow, erotic brush of his fingertips made it difficult not to gasp or flinch. In fact, it took genuine effort to keep my breath even and continue to feign sleep.
We had pushed this cat-and-mouse game to the limit - the culmination of a summer's worth of teasing was summed up in this tremulous confrontation between my younger brother and I. Our parents sleeping just a hall away, he had crept into my bedroom to molest me in my sleep. Or had he? Was he betting that I was faking? Was he just calling my bluff?
I shifted slightly and gave a little yawn, cocking my head to the side so that I could open my eyelids a fraction of an inch. Daniel drew back and hesitated, staring at me intently. Although he didn't remove his hand from my knee, it went dead still. I continued my even breathing. His body language said it all: he wasn't gambling on anything; he believed I was sleeping.
He had never made so bold a move before, trespassing into my room. At least, I didn't think there had been. For all I knew, he might have been sneaking in to peek on me every night. The little pig!
Of course, it was hard to be indignant. I had been putting him through adolescent hell ever since he'd hit puberty. I never knew what possessed me when my wicked instincts took over - but I was constantly tempted to flash him and brush up against him. At dinner, in the car - whenever and wherever we were alone together. I was never overt with my gestures and teasing, however. I was careful to make him believe he was getting a lucky glimpse or touch. Still, years worth of coincidences must have given him some doubt - he had to wonder if I was doing these things to him on purpose.
Daniel had always been a shy, lanky kid, as sweet and doting a little brother as any older sister could hope for. He never whined or played pranks, so I was happy to drag him around with my friends. He had sort of become the little pet of my circle of friends, the girls always cuddling and spoiling him while the boys introduced him to beer and creative cursing.
When I'd gone off to college he had pouted the entire week leading up to my departure - and been an absolute grouch since my return. I didn't see what he had to be so growly about; I'd left him a reputation as the coolest junior at the high school where I'd reigned. Now in his senior year, he had lettered in wrestling and was a grade-A catch for any teenage twit. He was in the right crowd, and no slouch to look at.
In fact, my little brother had gone through an interesting metamorphosis since last I'd seen him. All those gangly limbs were now thickened with muscle. His unruly, sandy hair had darkened and been cropped short. He even had a trace of mustache and goatee shadowing his square face. The brown eyes were still the same, but the innocent little boy I'd teased to sin was gone. I didn't recognize this brooding bear who'd assumed the role of my only sibling.
His hand began to move again, now openly caressing my thigh while he urged my legs wider apart. I let them limply comply, excited and curious to see how far he was willing to push his luck. The tension was exquisite.
I couldn't help but recall the car trip we'd taken to Orlando a few years back. Mom and Dad had been bickering about something in the front seat while I'd lounged in the back, my feet spilling over onto Daniel's lap. I had wiggled my feet back and forth, as though swaying them to music - the entire time my heels resting on his crotch. He'd had a raging hard on by the time our parents had figured out which of them had messed up the directions - and I'd pretended to fall asleep, the arch of my feet snugly cupping my brother's hard cock. I was relatively sure I'd forced him to jack off in a dozen different rest stops between Florida and Michigan before we'd returned home.
For all that he'd endured, it was impossible for me to even pretend to be shocked now, waking to find him kneeling beside my bed. There was a raspy sound emanating from him, the rasp of labored breathing. He was all but panting as his squeezed my tight, slim thigh, and his excitement was contagious. My hardened nipples stood out firmly beneath the thin, satiny fabric of my short nightdress, and I felt the damp heat that was starting to make the matching panties slick.
It was time to wake up and end this before it went any further.
With a stretching yawn, and then a pretended start, I gasped and sat upright.
"Daniel," I exclaimed in mock astonishment and confusion. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer me, and much to my surprise, he kept his hand solidly planted on my inner thigh. No fumbling apology. No hasty retreat. No boyish sheepishness. We were face to face, and even though it was too dark to tell, I could feel his stare burning into me, smoldering there in the dark. He inched his hand up.
"Daniel," I scolded, but there was no trace of real reproach in my tone. "Get your hands off me and get out of my room."
In open defiance, his fingers lifted off my thigh, only to press roughly against the crotch of my damp panties. I cried out in stunned scandal.
"You're wet," he stated flatly without a hint of shyness in his tone. Before I could utter the briefest murmur of denial, his mouth was on mine.
I had been kissed a lot in my time. From my pre-teen years, I had always had boys buzzing after me like bees to honey , all of them a swarm of sticky fingers and humming mouths. But nothing had ever felt quite so raw and hungry as my brother's kiss - both poisonous and luscious. Yet, more ravenous than his dominant lips were his aggressive fingers - wasting no time as they traced the lips of my pulsating pussy through my drenched panties.
Dazed, I leaned into both his kiss and his touch - it was so open and primal, I couldn't help but be lulled into the pull of his lust. Carnivorous and confident, he crammed his hand fully into my panties.
I tasted his groan when he made contact with my freshly-waxed baby-bare little box. I'd known before the summer was over, I'd be working on my tan down by the lake, and so I'd endured the pain of a full bikini waxing. A Brazilian wax was what the rather hefty woman at the parlor had called it. By whatever name, I was still unaccustomed to the intensity of sensation that radiated off my bald puss, and the contact of my brother's fingers on my smoothness made my body arch off the bed.
"Daniel, get off me and stop this!" I tried to sound authoritative, but I was trembling and my voice couldn't help but betray it. A zealous thrill combined with chilling dread in my stomach to produce a decadent rush of awareness in my flesh.
"No," was his simple reply, and he moved his body half atop me while pushing me back into the mattress. I had never heard that voice before. It was my brother, and yet not. This was the voice of a moth about to burn willingly in the hottest and most intoxicating part of the flame.
I realized for the first time that this wasn't about bluffing or cat-and-mouse antics. He had come to get what he wanted, whether I intended to give in or not. That heavy certainty spurred my body into protest - as we began a rough struggle on my bed.
But he wasn't my gawky little brother anymore. He had a wrestler's brawn - and both height and mass on his side. I still had some athletic sinew to my credit, but as nimble and lithe as I was, sly was no match for strong. Nearly a half hour later, I gave up, panting and sweaty and still pinned under his weight.
"I'll scream," I threatened, but no sooner were the words out of my lips than he pressed his thick, salty thumb between them. I wagged my head back and forth, but he merely pressed harder, until my mouth was swollen from the force. Frustrated and frantic I bit down hard.
He didn't howl or flinch, only grunted and kept my body firmly pinned. Both my wrists were secured in one of his large, meaty hands, and he continued to press with his thumb until I was nearly gagging. With a whimper, I stopped biting.
"We can do this two ways, Paige," he whispered low, a throaty, sinister croak that was more akin to horror movie villains and obscene phone calls than to my sweet little brother. "You can give me what I've come for, or I can take it."
I burst out in a flurry of protest once more - all bucking and kicking and scratching and biting now; I dared him to move his hand from my mouth for even a fraction of a second because I was going to scream not just to rouse the house, but to wake the neighborhood - and possibly the dead.
Keeping the excruciating pressure of his thumb against the entrance to my throat, he wrestled with me until he could flip me onto my belly and climb on my back. I gave him all the trouble I could, but there was the start of exhaustion tugging in my muscles and ligaments - and even though he was huffing and puffing, I had a feeling his stamina had mine beat by a mile.
For the first time I felt him - his hardness - his cock - penetrating through his baggy pajama pants against my bottom. He rotated his hips a few times, grinding at me through our nightclothes.
Pressing his face into my hair, he inhaled deeply and groaned. "You smell like perfumed sex, Paige. You always did. I've spent hours thinking about your taste and your smell and what it would be like to fuck you."
I blushed all over at the sound of his words, struggling again, but only briefly, and easily quelled. I just didn't have the strength to fight him, and he knew it. I bit at his thumb again, but he was reticent. I got the impression that I could have chomped down right through the bone and he wouldn't have let up. He was determined to do whatever it took - like some mercenary ordered to hold his hand over a candle's flame and not pull back.
He let go of my wrists, although it did me little good. I couldn't force his hand away, and I couldn't reach back and shove him off me. With his now free hand, he reached back down inside my panties once more.
Lips and tongue and teeth all suckled and nipped against my earlobe when he next spoke. "You shaved your sweet pussy for me, Paige. I know you did. You knew we'd head over to the lake and you'd wear that French cut bikini that drives me out of my head. For years you've been letting me look and touch, but never take. You've been making me want to fuck you, but then retreating off to safety whenever a real opportunity showed itself." One long breath ticked my ear. "Don't you know how impossible you've made it for any other girl to compare? I look at other girls and I only see how they're not you. They don't have your sexy body, your wicked smile, your sweet-scented hair, or any of the things that make me so fucking hungry for you. I ache, Paige. I've been aching."
I stirred under him. It was hot and compelling as he laid over me, telling me all the reasons he wanted to fuck me. The whole while, his fingers worked back and forth along my slit, getting me soaking wet and pulsating. I shook my head, wagging back and forth while I sucked wetly on his inserted thumb. He didn't understand, but if he kept pressing it was only a matter of time before he found…
His forefinger slid arrogantly against my clit, making me moan and jolt. I thrashed for a few seconds, but he only rubbed harder, his thumb muffling my screams as I came against my will into his insidious clutch.
Withdrawing his hand, I heard him licking his fingers and grunting softly. "I knew that was how you would taste. Heady and sweet and creamy. I wish I could trust you to lie still and quiet so that I could get my lips down there and drink from your cunt." Licking the sweat off the back of my neck, he sighed once. "Maybe next time."
There were a few more minutes of tussling and grabbling while he maneuvered out of his pajamas and ripped me out of mine. When the stark rigidity of his throbbing dick settled into the firmness of my ripe ass, the reality of what was happening knifed through me. I mumbled words against his thumb - unintelligible pleas for him to come to his senses and think about what he was doing. His only response was to rub the huge, slippery bulb of his cockhead between the cheeks of my ass.
"I used to lay awake at night and wonder what your boyfriends were doing," he murmured, his hand groping my tits while his cock continued on a deliberate path between my thighs. "I used to think about those assholes feeling you up and fucking you. I used to hate them and envy them and wonder what it must have felt like to touch you." He tugged on my hard nipples and then continued to caress downward over my flat, sweaty tummy. "It feels so fucking good to touch you, Paige. I wonder if you have any idea how good it feels to touch you."
"Open up for me. Stop fighting," he panted in my ear. His fingers were back on my clit, tapping and rubbing. I wasn't sure if my body's thrashing was to push him away, or rub back.
"I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you," he moaned into my hair. "I've fucked other girls and had to close my eyes to think of you. Just this once, Paige. I can feel how wet you are. I know you want it, too. Let me get you out of my system. I promise it will only be this once. Open up and let me fuck you, Sis."
It was at that moment when his forefinger dipped in deep enough to discover my thudding hymen. I bucked and cried out as he continued to apply pressure.
"None of them ever got you!" There was a sickening glee in his tone. "You hot little fucking tease. You sent them all home with blowjobs and blue balls and stayed a virgin for me, didn't you?"
I had entertained the brief hope that once he realized I was a virgin he'd back off and leave me alone. I couldn't imagine he would still be willing to go through with this incestuous rape knowing it was my first time. But he only seemed more excited by the fact that he would get to pop my cherry. I gave an all-out struggle for my freedom one final chance.
But it was as though a feral wolf had gotten a scent of fresh blood. Rolling me once more onto my back, he swatted away my arms and finally withdrew his thumb out of my mouth. I tried to scream, but managed only a pathetic squawk - my throat too dry and sore from his assault to muster more. Sucking in a deep breath, I prepared to howl at the top of my lungs.
My scream vibrated right into his mouth. I turned my head from side to side, attempting to free my lips and belt out a blood-curdling yell, but it was no use. Even his mouth was stronger than mine. I felt my lips swelling - knew the fierceness of his kiss was bruising as it dominated. He had my wrists pinned again, and his cock was nuzzling in my tight little tummy. He plucked at my nipples with his free hand and then quickly replaced his thumb into my mouth.
"I'm going to let go of your mouth in a minute, Paige, because I want to fuck you with both hands." I squirmed at that horrifically sensual statement; he responded by humping his hips and jabbing his hard cock against my belly. It knocked the wind from me for a second and I sputtered dizzily.
His eyes were staring down, shining and shameless. "Part of me wants to hurt you, Paige. Part of me wants to just shove in and rip you open for making me want you so fucking much. Another part of me can't stand the idea of hurting you, Sis. But I swear to God, Paige, I will hurt you if you make it the only way I can have you."
My eyes got wide. Try as I might, though, I couldn't muster tears. I was frustrated and terrified, but I was exhilarated and stimulated as well. Hearing my brother talk the way he did - hearing him just openly declare that he wanted to bone me raw - left me wet and shaking. And the battle between us sparked a civil war in my own body. I wanted what he wanted - there was no denying it. But I also knew it was wrong, and I knew I had to keep fighting.
"So, like I was saying," he continued in his maddeningly calm, deliberate voice. "I'm going to take my hand off your mouth, and you'll be able to holler if that's what you want to do. Mom and Dad could sleep through World War Three, but you screaming bloody murder might get them up in a few minutes. By the time they stumble in here, I'll be cock deep in your tight little cunt and fucking for all that I'm worth. And maybe the old man actually has the strength in him to shove me off you before I'm done, but that's a long shot. Odds are better that the two of them are just going to stand there in the doorway gaping and get to watch me cum into you."
He let that sink into me for a moment and I couldn't do anything but shake my head. His speech was so premeditated - so thorough. There was nothing spontaneous in this encounter. He'd plotted it out.
As though reading my mind, he continued, "Now you're starting to see, Paige. This isn't a spur of the moment thing. It isn't a crime of passion. I want you. I mean to have you. And if you scream, you scream. Maybe mom and dad will throw me out. Maybe they'll call the cops." He leaned in close to drive his next malevolent words home, "but I want you to understand I've considered all those possibilities and I don't give a shit. This is going to happen and I don't care what happens after."
With that, he removed his hand, and I didn't scream - couldn't scream. The idea of my mother and father catching us fucking made my throat numb. Somehow, they'd know deep down I'd wanted it. Somehow, they'd know Danny wasn't the only one to blame.
He pawed me over like a teenage boy. Groping my tits and palming my nipples as though he were a pilgrim and they were holy relics. I wanted to talk - wanted to tell him why he had to stop this, but he was kissing me again. Rough kisses. Sweet kisses. Long, sloppy, young kisses. Being naked against him, tasting his mouth, feeling him maul me - it was infuriatingly sensual.
"Put your arms around me, Paige," he panted against my lips.
"No," I denied him hoarsely.
"You're soaking wet," he insisted, moving one of his hands down to my bare pussy, while the other continued to caress my tits. "You came in my hand before. I can make you do it again." He was tapping at my clit, rubbing delicately, and yet vigorously. I arched in my attempt to move away - to deny him something. But there was no escaping the truth of his penetration. I cried out into his mouth, coming and shuddering and nearly sobbing from the force of a more powerful orgasm than I'd ever known. Now it wasn't only my pussy, but my thighs were dripping wet and hot.
Leaning over me, he turned on the small lamp that I kept on my nightstand. Seeing him sent me into a panic.
We struggled again, although there was no screaming. Sweat-drenched, our bodies slid and slipped and twisted. By the time it was over, his cock was stretched between my thighs and he had my hands pinned with each of his. We glared into one another's eyes as we gulped down breath.
"At least turn off the light," I whimpered, hissing at him in what I hoped sounded like disgust.
He responded by rotating his hips slightly - pushing his cock harder into my tightly closed legs and positioning himself just against my pussy. I felt my body flush, felt the guilt of arousal flood through me, and I had to close my eyes and turn away from his smoky stare.
Letting go of my hands for a moment, Daniel reached down and gripped my knees. Pulling roughly, he yanked my legs around him. That thick, throbbing cockhead was pushed tight against my cherry. I moaned out and shook my head back and forth.
I was so slippery and wet that I almost thought he broke into me by accident. There was a rush of flesh, and then a sharp ache, and a pressure inside me. I screamed then. One quaking wail that he sucked into his mouth. But it hadn't been an accident. A moment later he was leaning his weight onto his hips and fucking into me with all his strength.
Raw, brutal pounding - stretching me open - scoring me with his invasion. A violent muscle of cock - staking out the territory of my violated cunt. He branded me like some wild animal, fucking and shoving and stretching and slamming until he couldn't force anymore of himself into me.
At some point my screaming had stopped. I hadn't been able to fall into sobs. I wasn't in enough pain or shock to cry. But when he stopped moving I opened my eyes and found tears in them. I thought for sure I would have felt him come - figured there had to be something more than just the abrupt end. When my eyes cleared I realized I was right. He wasn't done. He'd merely been waiting for me to look at him.
The moment I met his controlling trenchant stare, he moved again. Not the painful thrusting of a moment before, but a slow rock of his hips. He rolled that cock inside me, stroking within me - stimulating the walls of my aching cunt.
I shook my head and closed my eyes. I didn't want to feel good, even for a moment. I didn't want to look at him and enjoy what he was doing. But, the instant I broke our mutual stare, he stopped moving. Seemingly content to stay buried inside me forever.
With an exasperated hiss of surrender, I opened my eyes. He immediately began to move again. Slow, shallow, teasing thrusts. I tensed my body and tried to feel nothing. I attempted to focus on the pain - on the brutal nature of his violation of me - I tried to focus on anything except the adoring lust of his eyes and the response of my body to his stark thirst for me.
"Put your arms around me, Sis," he suggested again, but this time it sounded more like an order than a request. I realized what he was doing - rewarding me when I obeyed him, denying me when I didn't comply. Like a dog learning how to fetch. That's all I was. Some trained bitch frolicking after a tennis ball.
If only to erase the smug look of self-assurance in his eyes, I did put my arms around him, and scored my fingernails down the entire length of his spine, not stopping until I had my hands sunk in his tight ass.
He growled low in his throat and forced my knees up, until my legs were pinned against my chest. I watched his eyes grow malevolent while we grappled. I was too weak to be effective, but my stubborn limbs wouldn't surrender. A moment later he grunted and slammed forward to fuck me with every ounce of muscle in his body. My body lurched as my tender insides were forced to stretch and take even more of him - to endure this rough pounding assault as the penance for my disobedience. I couldn't gulp enough air into my lungs - the position he'd twisted me into restrained my breathing.
I began to feel light-headed, dazed, feeling an almost out-of-body withdraw from myself as the incessant slamming of his cock within my core drove harder and deeper. Wet and sloppy and rough, he fucked the anger out of himself, hammering his fury into every violent penetration.
There should have been agony. There should have been blinding pain, but the ache inside me was dull. I lay there looking up, feeling almost like a spectator in this rape, and fought down another orgasm each time he jerked up to stimulate my clit on the end of each thrust. I was exhilarated beyond any stretch of even my sordid imagination. All those times I had been deviously taunting with my body, each occasion I had touched him in temptation - I had been hoping for this. For the feel of his cock inside me, ripping into me and pushing my flesh beyond its limits to please him.
Closing my eyes I shook my head. Snippets of feminist outrage sputtered. No meant no. No one deserved or asked to be raped. This was a violation. No matter how my body responded, no matter how flush I was with awareness and arousal, no matter how vigorously my blood pumped through my veins in yearning to surrender to this act - nothing made it right. I should be outraged. I should be screaming. I should be sobbing and cursing and begging for him to stop.
He had stopped again. Balls deep and shoved fully inside me. Spreading my legs apart, he drew them around his hips and I was able to take a full, deep breath. I almost choked on air.
Along the line of my throat, I felt his tongue, licking all the way up to my chin. He was deliberate and soft, opening my mouth with his succulent kiss. My arms fell around his shoulders in attempt to hold onto anything, but I found my fingers curling into his hair, drawing his mouth down harder onto mine.
"I want you to cum again, Paige," he rasped huskily, "I want you to cum while I'm inside you." I felt his fingers wiggle between us, down to where I joined him. I shook my head as he kissed me, knowing how sore my clit was. He found it deftly, surprising me with his suddenness. I had more trouble finding the damn thing than he seemed to. And as I flailed beneath him, shoved full of my brother's cock, his ravenous mouth upon mine, and his fingers stripping me down and turning my slow burn up into one raw, sexual roar, I had nothing left to fight. Staring straight into his eyes I came with a vengeance, his mouth breathing in the moans that accompanied yet another orgasm.
He started to move once more, pumping deep and slow, stirring up the soaking wet flesh of my pussy. We were drenched from crown to heel - sweating like thieves in church, and dripping with the honey of our mutual sin.
At last he came, his thick body jerking and then buckling from the force of it, emptying his semen in potent, hot jets I could feel streaming though me.
Then, just silence. I expected him to speak - he'd said so much, but the silence overtook us both. He shuddered and quaked for a few more moments, staying deep inside even while his cock softened. Then the warmth of his body was gone and a chill ran over my sweat-soaked form.
"Stay or go?" he asked quietly. His tone wasn't so much one of remorse as it was uncertainty.
"Go," I whispered, too stunned to make any other decision. He was halfway out the door when I rasped "Stay."
He glistened in my doorway - his naked body a sheen of sex and sweat. Walking back to my bed lazily, he leaned down close and met my eyes. I stared back at him. Swollen, bruised, sweaty. His cum leaking out of me - mingled with the blood of my virginity on my sore thighs.
A dark, mischievous grin spread over his features. "All the time you've spent teasing, I think it's time you learned to beg for something now and then. I'll be in my room if you want me."
Disappearing from the doorway, I heard his footsteps shuffling back toward his room.
Struggling up, I braced myself against my nightstand and dared a glance at the mirrored doors of my closet.
I needed a shower. I needed some cover-up.
And then, I needed a plan to get back at the smug little prick. I wasn't the one who would begging during out next encounter - of that I was decided.
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