Wild Sex Tales(Erotica)

57



Despite what you might assume, I did not do dirty stuff with my brother that night. Instead, we committed an act that was far, far worse.

We sat on the couch, snuggled against each other and watched a movie. I rested my head on his broad shoulder. He cradled my side and stroked my hair. We sat there, wrapped around each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

After the movie was over, we did something even more hazardous. We talked. Kevin told me about his dreams of being a mechanic. I spoke about being an oncologist — how one day I was going to cure cancer.

“And I’ll custom your car so you can go pick up your Nobel Prize in style,” Kevin said. And we both laughed. So easy and accepting.

Then, worst of all, we kissed and went to sleep. Separate beds sure, but still. God, how could we be so stupid?

I passed out that night, telling myself that the next day would be different. I’d go back to studying and Kevin would return to being my goofy, lunkhead of a little brother. But I knew that wasn’t true. We’d done something far worse now than fool around. Physical pleasure is addictive but fleeting. Your mind can shove those urges away.

But love? That’s a whole other, inescapable problem.

*

I woke up that morning, ready to take my study session to the max. One lost day wasn’t so bad. I still had all Sunday plus free time between classes during the week to take this bad boy down.

But first, I told myself, I needed a shower. Standing under the hot water, soaping myself, my mind couldn’t help but drift to the day before. My brother’s muscular body encircling me in the dripping heat. But I stopped myself.

Once I was dry and dressed, in a comfy t-shirt and jeans, I sat down at my desk to start working. But then my stomach rumbled, and I realized I was hungry. So, I went to the kitchen and made breakfast. I did something simple. Just a bowl of cereal. But of course I needed coffee so I set that up, as well.

OK. This was good. More than good. I was ready to go. I went upstairs. Placed my mug on a coaster that I kept on my desk and opened my book.

BZZ BZZ BZZ.

I looked down at my phone and saw my parents calling. Well, I had to take that. So, I picked up and said hello.

They were having a lovely weekend away. Everything was fine at the house. No, my brother and I hadn’t had any wild parties. Yes, we’d see them that evening for dinner. Very much looking forward. No, just studying. Yes. No. OK. Goodbye.

I put down my phone. Finally. I opened up my book and squinted at the words. The sun, blaring through the windows, was exceptionally bright. I looked outside and saw clear, blue sky. It was one of those days that seemed warm from a distance. Comfortable.

I took a deep breath. Well, there was nothing saying I couldn’t read outside. I gathered my things and carried them out to the backyard. We had a little patio out there with a table under an umbrella and several semi-soft chairs. I sat in one and set out my things. Sipped my coffee and set to work.

A group of kids were giggling and screaming in the distance. A bird chirped from a nearby branch. Cars roared as they rolled down our quiet street. I got up from my seat, gathered my things, and brought them back up to my bedroom.

I make it sound like I was inattentive to the work. As if I couldn’t make myself focus. The truth was, the thought of reading all of it yet again was exhausting. And I was easily distracted.

But the real problem was, every time I looked at the words, they didn’t make any sense. I’d read a sentence over and over, and for some reason none of it was sticking in my brain. Like it’d gone all slippery.

I put my things on my desk. There was only one thing that I could keep in my mind that morning, and I knew I had to deal with it first.

After all, A stands for… Crap. I couldn’t think of anything in the moment. But A stands for something that’s for sure.

“Kevin!” I called out from the top of the stairs. I hoped my brother hadn’t left for the day.

*

I found him — where else? — back in the garage. He was hanging halfway under the hood of his car, the metal resting on his back. The way he was leaning over, head stuffed in there, made me think of when we’d been back in my bedroom. His mouth buried in a far more intimate place.

“I thought you fixed that thing,” I said, twirling my brown hair in my fingers as I stared at my brother’s firm backside.

“Shut up,” Kevin said, whiny, from under the hood. The height of sophisticated sibling discussion. “I’ve almost got it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

“No, I’ve…” the words must have finally hit my brother’s brain because he popped up, banging his head on the hood. He cursed and slid out. “Don’t you have a bunch of studying to do?”

Kevin brushed off his jeans; his shirt was streaked with black. He ran his fingers through his hair. He eyed me, oddly, like I was a mirage.

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?”

“That’s OK, I know you’re busy and I’m…” Again, the delay between my brother responding and his brain actually processing my words. “Oh. You mean hang out.”

We tumbled to the hard, cement floor. Clothes quickly joined us on the ground. Naked bodies wrapped around each other, needy.

Did I actually mean hang out? I’m honestly not sure. But it doesn’t matter what I intended because in moments my brother’s tongue was buried in my snatch and his cock was well past my teeth.

Everything in that moment mixed together to make me lose myself in ecstasy. Even the things that should have worked against it. Especially those things.

The oily, industrial smell of the garage. The cold, hard floor. The fact that anyone could walk inside and see us naked, splayed on the ground.

Knowing that it was my brother bringing me that pleasure. The illicit incestuous act. That sucking a guy like this, getting sucked, was bad. But succumbing to it with my sibling was straight out broken.

And then, the enthusiastic slurping sounds coming from my brother. The way his tongue deftly plied at my folds. The warm wet muscle probing, pushing at my clit. My pussy clamping down on his dexterous fingers.


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