Chapter Seven

My brother’s erect cock entered my body without another word being spoken. It entered slowly, it entered awkwardly, but enter it most certainly did.

The tangle of underwear around my ankles prevented me opening my legs wide so his progress was awkward and clumsy, but it didn’t matter. By then, Paul was determined that nothing was going to prevent the inevitable from happening and I wasn’t going to put any kind of barrier in his way.

I gasped helplessly as Paul’s swollen head passed between my inner lips and plunged headlong into the warm, wet darkness of the deep cavern beyond, followed immediately by his thick, ribbed shaft. As my tight passage was opened by his smooth tip, the thick pole of muscle on which it rode was dragged across the wire tight flesh of my entrance, electrifying my entire sex.

My chest tightened and my heart thumped as Paul’s penis passed through my tight, wet entrance and into the dark passage beyond, making my entire body tremble as it was impaled.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, pausing partway into his penetration.

I shook my head and stared up into the place I believed his eyes to be. It did hurt, but it was a good hurt; a hurt I wanted so badly.

I felt him pull back a little, as if adjusting his angle and giving my body a moment to prepare itself. Then he thrust forward again, stretching my entrance even wider; filling my body deeper and more completely than I had thought possible.

My back arched instinctively, my knees fell wider open and my hands gripped the grass beneath me so tightly I pulled a huge clump away. He pulled back and began to thrust once again, but this time, in short, shallow strokes, each driving him a little deeper into my soft, wet body, inch by incredible inch, filling me more and more until finally, its entire length was inside me.

I bit my lip in pleasure and pain as my belly was stuffed almost to bursting by my lover’s wonderful cock.

“Oh, God!” I sighed, incapable of speech.

“Are you okay, Caro?”

“Oh, God! Oh my God!” Was all I could manage in reply.

Paul held himself still over me; a dark, heavy shadow in the darkness, his hips crushing mine, the thick base of his shaft stretching my entrance, its swollen head pressed hard against my cervix as my fully impaled body tried desperately to adjust to the invading monster.

I had felt an erect penis in my vagina before, but it hadn’t felt like this. Whether it was the boy himself, the occasion, the angle or even just his sheer physical size, I couldn’t tell, but my brother’s cock filled me like I had never been filled before. My belly felt as if it would burst and my entrance felt so tight it would surely tear.

My mind dimly told me we had just done something terribly wrong, but my body was screaming even louder that this was the most amazing, most incredible feeling it had ever experienced. The owner of the cock buried within me was irrelevant; all that mattered was that it was there, filling me, making me feel like nothing on earth.

And that was before he began to fuck me.

Oh my God, did he fuck me!

The moment that amazing cock began to move in and out of my vagina, any hint of reservation vanished. There, on my back on the grass, my dress around my waist, my knickers tying my ankles together, the cool dampness soaking into my back, I let my older brother fuck the living daylights out of my teenage body.

It was and remains the most daringly exciting thing that has ever happened to me.

I moaned, I squirmed with pleasure, I instinctively tipped my pelvis forward to rub my clitoris more firmly against the shaft that was penetrating me. My flailing legs tore my knickers away and parted wide, opening my body to him completely, allowing him to sink a precious half-inch deeper into me and for his pubic bone to grind hard against my clitoris.

I squealed so loudly that he had to cover my mouth with his hand. I sank my teeth into the fleshy part of his thumb, and when he lowered himself onto me, into the nape of his neck once again. My hands flew to his sides, to his muscular chest, to his shoulders and face as he slammed his body into mine over and over again. My legs wrapped themselves around his thighs and I grabbed at his hips as if trying to draw him even deeper into me.

Whether I actually came or not simply did not matter; I was being fucked more expertly than I had ever been fucked before, and by the person I loved and trusted more than anyone in the world. There, on the grass, in the open air and with the night cooling all around us, my body was being penetrated over and over again by the biggest, most amazing, most unexpected cock it had ever encountered.

But this level of passion couldn’t last long. After barely a few minutes of strong, steady thrusting, I could feel Paul’s cock beginning to swell inside me. His rhythm broke, his strokes became hard, violent and erratic…

And then he came!

With my fingernails raking his shoulders and sides, my legs wrapped around his thighs and my teeth buried in his shoulder, my brother began to ejaculate deep inside my helpless, spasming body.

In the darkness, I could just make out Paul’s handsome face contorting into an ugly grimace as his climax struck. I could feel his thick, heavy cock pulsing and throbbing inside me as my cervix was smeared with his pale, creamy semen and millions of microscopic sperm flowed freely into my body.

Then it was all over. An eerie stillness descended.

I lay there, panting, every inch of me tingling, the weight of Paul’s motionless body heavy on my hips as the pulsing, spurting creature within me became first still, then began to soften.

I looked up into the shadow where his eyes would be, wishing I could see the expression on his face, hoping desperately it was one of love, not the shame or even disgust that I feared might follow the realisation he had just inseminated his sister.

Paul must have seen the look of desperation on my face because he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me gently. He tasted salty; fresh sweat on his face from the energy with which he had just fucked me.

Then he slowly raised his body from mine. I whimpered as his softening cock was pulled from my still-tingling vagina. As he rolled to sit on the grass alongside, the enormity of what we had just done began to dawn on me.

My body shaking with post-coital emotion, tears began to roll down my cheeks.

“Caro! Please don’t cry!”

Paul’s voice sounded genuinely concerned, and so it might. Lying there exactly as he had left me, my legs spread wide, my vagina oozing my brother’s semen, I can’t have been a pretty sight, even by moonlight.

“Come here!”

Paul shuffled alongside, then gently rolled me into his strong arms, holding me tightly as my body shook, kissing the top of my head, nuzzling my hair, and stroking my battered, grass-stained back and sides.

The tears ran freely from my eyes, over my cheeks and onto my brother’s muscular shoulder, but his embrace was firm and the body he held me so tightly against was warm and comforting.

“Caro! Oh, Caro!” he whispered softly into my ear, hugging me tightly. “Please don’t cry. It’s all right! It’s all right…”

***

I lay on the grass in my brother’s arms for a long time as the trembling in my body slowly faded. My head was spinning, my stomach churning and the rest of me was all but paralysed by the physical and emotional shock of what had just taken place.

Eventually, the night grew too cold for us to remain half-naked in the open air. Paul rose to his feet, helped his shivering sister to hers, and the two of us dressed awkwardly.

My knickers were a write-off, the elastic torn and twisted by my flailing ankles, so I pulled my short dress down as far as I could and hoped there would be few festival-goers still awake to notice the bare bottom and hairless, recently used vulva beneath.

“Shall we go back?” Paul asked, smiling.

“We’d better, or those two will wonder what we’ve been up to,” I replied, trying desperately to act normally when normal was the last thing I felt.

“They’ll be far too busy with each other to care,” Paul said. “And they’ll never guess what we’ve really been doing.”

“God, I hope you’re right,” I whispered.

The boy whose body had so recently been inside mine, took my hand and led me along the dark pathway from the sea, as if we were any normal couple returning from a romantic walk and an illicit coupling. After a minute or two of walking, I could feel semen beginning to trickle down my inner thigh, and silently prayed no-one would be around to see.

As we approached the campsite, plenty of revellers were still awake, drinking, singing and making out, but to my relief, few even noticed the newly formed romantic couple as we made our way through the chaos. My dress bore incriminating grass stains, my lipstick was smeared over my face and God alone knew what my hair looked like, but at a festival, there was no shortage of girls showing signs of recent sex.

The few that did notice would have seen nothing to suggest that the boy and girl walking arm in arm before them were brother and sister, and my dishevelled appearance raised no eyebrows.

When we arrived at our tents, the flaps on Keiron and Ness’ love nest were closed, but the sounds of noisy lovemaking were still clearly audible. From the high-pitched squealing and yelping coming through the canvas, Keiron was clearly delivering what my friend needed in spadefuls.

“Just how much energy do they have?” Paul grinned, squeezing my hand.

“Perhaps it’s love,” I replied.

“Nah! Come with me and I’ll show you what love really feels like.”

He squeezed my hand again and led me to the other tent. There, we stripped each other naked then fucked hard, passionately and as silently as we could, over and over again until finally, I fell asleep on him in the steamy darkness.

Chapter Eight

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t at all what I had planned.

I stared up at the inside of the tent as the sun rose, watching drops of condensation running down the ridge before joining together into small pools; condensation caused by the cool of the morning and the warm breath coming from the tent’s two tired occupants. My back ached and my head throbbed, but it was the soreness between my legs that dominated my thoughts.

That and the reason why I was so sore.

It was not the first time I had woken aching in a tent. It was not the first time I had woken with a hangover. To my shame, it was not even the first time I had woken with the dried, crispy evidence of sex sticking to my lower belly and upper thighs, and my head full of doubts, questions and regrets.

But it most certainly was the first time this condition had been brought about by my older brother.

My head spun, and not just because of the hangover that had already started and promised to get much worse before it got better.

What in God’s name had we done? The question was redundant; there was no doubt what we had done. The evidence was all around; in my mind; in my memory; over and inside my body.

My big brother had fucked me. No, it hadn’t been as one-sided as that. Although he had made most of the running, I had been a full and willing participant in all that had occurred.

I had had sex with my brother. That didn’t feel right either; although the result had been intense and passionate, for me at least, it had been so much more than a mere physical coupling.

Paul and I had made love. To me, that felt much more like what had happened. Whether my brother felt the same I couldn’t tell, but even if he did, what difference did it make if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life?

A slight movement told me the boy who had just become my latest and most unexpected lover, was still lying alongside me. Unable to face him, I lay on my side, as still as I could, feigning sleep as I tried to make sense of the night’s unplanned activities.

I watched another rivulet of condensation run down the side of the tent as the emotions that haunt every freshly fucked girl flashed through my mind.

Had I been too easy a conquest? I had certainly not made his progress at all difficult. Did he really love me, or had he just wanted sex? And of course, the old favourite; now that he really had fucked me, would he still respect me? Did I even respect myself after what I had done and let him do?

In truth, I wasn’t at all sure.

On the one hand, I desperately wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I had probably loved him all my life and wanted to be with him in every way a girl could be… but I was too stunned and emotional and knew the right words just wouldn’t come.

On the other hand, perhaps they shouldn’t come. Paul was my brother; the boy I had known literally all my life; by turns, my tormentor and defender, my devil and my idol. We had grown up together, fought together, spent most of our lives together, shared parents, houses, holidays, experiences and even secrets together.

We had always been close, but now a bigger secret was bringing us closer. Now we had become closer than a brother and sister should ever be; now we knew more about each other’s bodies than siblings ever should.

Now we shared perhaps the biggest secret of all.

Why had it happened? Okay, I had been drunk, but in all honesty, not drunk enough to have lost control. Paul had not taken advantage of a helplessly inebriated girl. My memories were clear enough to know that I had been at least as aware of what we were doing as he was and, especially once we had returned to the tent, had been every bit as willing and eager participant of all that had happened next.

I was at least as responsible as him for the soreness between my thighs and its potentially life-changing implications.

So, if it hadn’t been alcohol, how had we ended up having sex at all, let alone that many times?

Okay, we had both been upset. Finding Vanessa and Keiron openly fucking in their tent was enough to bring out the emotions in any would-be boyfriend or girlfriend, but was that any excuse for committing incest?

Incest!

The word ran over and over through my mind. We had committed perhaps the ultimate taboo. I knew almost every culture in history had a taboo against incest. In most countries, including our own, it was illegal, and even in those few places where it wasn’t actually against the law, it was not acceptable in society.

So why had we done it? Why hadn’t our instincts prevented it happening? And why – a shiver passed through me as vivid, feral memories rippled through my body - why had it felt so very, very good when it had been so very, very bad?

Paul moved again. I could feel the heat of his body close to my back.

Paul! My big brother Paul. Good looking, good-natured Paul. I had loved and idolised him most of my life, but that didn’t justify having sex with him, did it?

And now that we had done the wicked deed, had my feelings changed? Had he become more than a brother, or less than one? Did I still love him as a brother? Did I still love him at all? Did I hate him now, after what we had just done?

At least I knew the answer to that; I most emphatically did not hate him. My feelings for him were powerful and passionate, and hate did not feature anywhere within them.

But what kind of feelings were they? Was I in love?

I had believed myself to be in love with boys before; I had even let a select few of them fuck me, but none of them had made me feel like Paul had made me feel. I hadn’t ever felt like this, either before or after sex. This was something new; something different.

Perhaps I hadn’t understood what real romantic love felt like. Or maybe this was what romantic and sibling love felt like when mixed together; intense, passionate but at the same time, confused and contradictory.

Whatever it was, it was frighteningly powerful. A cold ache passed through my belly as my mind continued on its painful course.

What would Paul think of me now? Okay, he had taken the lead, but I hadn’t even tried to resist. Would he think I made it that easy for any boy to get into my knickers? Would he think his sister was a slut? Would he even hate me now that he knew what fucking me was like?

I knew from heartbroken, tearful friends that some boys were disgusted by girls once they had fucked them; that they dumped them and told their friends exaggerated stories of all they had done.

Please God, don’t let Paul be one of those boys!

Blinking back the tears I desperately wanted to hide, I steeled myself then turned towards the recumbent shape lying close alongside me. To my surprise, Paul’s eyes were already open, watching me, a warm smile on his familiar, handsome face.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, his dreamy eyes large, dark and deep. “How are you feeling?”

What could I say? How could I answer when I hardly knew myself?

He shuffled...