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Sibling Rivalry

Dean discovers how slutty his girlfriend's sister is

Although I'm not the devil incarnate, I'm no angel either. With big firm tits, narrow waistline, and up-to-my-neck legs, I know I look good and when I set my sights on having something, I usually get my way. Lately, I've been thinking about Dean — something of a problem as he’s my older sister's boyfriend.

After going out for a couple of weeks, Nicole introduced him to our parents. Although we hadn't met, I knew of him vaguely and I looked up his Facebook and Instagram profiles. I liked what I saw. The photos of him at the beach and at the sports school definitely made an impression on me.

I was looking forward to meeting him…


“Do you like my T-Shirt, Dean?” I asked, unzipping my jacket. 

I watched him staring as I revealed the thin red top stretched tight across my braless chest. Of course, my nipples were sticking up like traffic cones. That was the whole point. 

“Jesus, Andrea, have you no shame?" Nicole screeched, her eyes blazing. 

She is a prude, a patronizing bitch — and she hates me.

"No," I said, and casually sat opposite them. Nicole placed a possessive hand on Dean's thigh and glared at me, missing his look of wide-eyed disbelief.

"Why don't you cover them up?" she demanded acidly, aware that her tiny boobs couldn't compete with my large rack. Intellectually, she was my superior, but in the local pubs and clubs, my plunging necklines, tight jeans, and short dresses, always meant I got my drinks for free.

"Because," I replied, "by the look on Dean's face, he's enjoying the view.”

Nicole turned and glared at him. He almost wilted beneath her icy gaze. 

"You can’t blame him, can you? Why, I bet you haven't even let him cop a feel yet, have you?" She gave me a murderous look. 

"You fucking little slag." The venom dripped from her fangs but I didn't care. 

"No need to be jealous, Nicole, just because you wouldn't know a good fuck even if you fell into one. You shouldn't start calling people names,” I said, feigning sweetness. “Very un-ladylike." 

Switching tack, I turned and asked Dean, very primly and with genuine interest, "Have you two done it yet?" 

The question obviously took him by surprise and I smiled as he automatically shook his head before realizing what he was doing. It was endearing to watch, especially when he saw Nicole's rage. He quickly understood the error of his ways. 

"Our sex life has got nothing to do with you, Andrea... you fucking little bitch." She was spitting mad and, coupled with the look of resigned disappointment on Dean's face, it made my enjoyment even more pleasurable. 

I decided to give him a quick show, intending that it would dispel his downcast expression and give him something to think about when he wanked — something he would undoubtedly have to do, being Nicole's boyfriend.

I slouched deeper into the armchair, forcing my tight, sheer leggings to stretch almost to breaking point over my crotch. Dean had the perfect opportunity to 'lip read' me.

I stared defiantly at Nicole. She was almost certainly wishing me dead while Dean... well, unless Nicole was prepared to put out tonight, we knew he'd be jacking off to the images he was avidly storing in his memory bank. 


Despite my behavior, they continued seeing each other, and eventually, he started staying here on weekends. On those occasions, I did my best to make things both difficult and pleasurable for him. I took every opportunity to flash him, not only my tits but also my backside. After giving him a generous view down my blouse, I would invent a reason to turn around and bend over in front of him. Whether I wore tight leggings or short skirts, the view frequently had him catching his breath. Nicole was furious when she caught me doing it, but, like I've said, I didn't care. And I knew Dean enjoyed it. 

He wasn't alone. When I saw a bulge in his trousers where only seconds before there had been nothing, it got me hot. Unfortunately, my actions prompted exactly what I didn't want. Confronted with my flagrant displays, Nicole decided to spread ‘em. Then again, judging by what I heard coming from her room, she wasn't all that enthusiastic. When I listened to them, I wondered if he was thinking about me, if it was me he really wanted to fuck. 

I soon found out. 


One Sunday morning, Mum and Dad had already left for morning service when I heard Dean go downstairs, presumably for some breakfast. Knowing her ladyship was still sleeping, and wouldn't make an appearance until she'd showered and made herself pretty, time was on my side. 

Barefooted, I entered the kitchen. Dean, dressed in a T-shirt and boxers, was seated at the breakfast bar, hunched over a bowl of cornflakes, and he looked over his shoulder when I approached. 

Beneath my oversized Garfield nightshirt, my breasts jiggled, rubbing sensually against the soft material. I didn't need to look to confirm that my nipples were protruding proudly. I knew they were — so did Dean. He stared at them as I got closer. Seeing the forbidden hunger in his eyes, turned me on even more. 

Maintaining a straight face, I sauntered past him toward the refrigerator. As I opened the door and bent to get a pot of low-fat yogurt, I could almost feel his gaze burning into my back. Reaching for the yogurt, the low guttural groan and the sound of his spoon dropping onto the breakfast bar, told me enough. A ripple of pleasure ran down my spine and I bit my lower lip to contain my excitement. 

Oops, silly me. In my morning haste, I'd forgotten to put on knickers and now my nightshirt was rising over bare buttocks.

“Jesus, Andrea," Dean mumbled. 

I stood upright and turned to face him. I tried to look innocent, but I couldn’t disguise the mischievous twinkle in my eyes. "What's the matter, Dean?"

“Oh, come on, Andrea… what do you want me to say?”

“That I’m sexier than Nicole,” I said, moving to the dining table behind him. He spun to face me and I saw the pole lurking in his tented boxers.

“You know I can’t say that,” he replied, attempting to cover his growing bulge under a hand. 

I slouched in a dining chair, legs crossed, my nightshirt bunched around my hips. "Yes you can, Dean, we both know it." I prepared myself for the coup de gras

"I bet you haven't seen her naked yet.” I uncrossed my legs. "Knowing her, she makes you screw her in the dark."

He grimaced and nodded, albeit imperceptibly. Although I enjoyed being right, it was the way his eyes were drawn to my patch of pubic hair that really excited me. He glanced up at my face and swallowed hard. 

“You really are a bitch, aren't you, Andrea? A dirty little bitch who likes playing games,” he said hoarsely.

“Who says I’m playing games?” I asked, fingering my tousled hair and spreading my knees.

“What are you insinuating?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That you’re going to let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” I replied with a sneer, draping a leg over the arm of the chair. The obscenity of my display seemed to shock him... at first. 

He slid off the bar stool and stood in front of me, his obvious erection forming a mighty bulge within his boxers. When I looked up from his groin and raised my eyebrows, he reached into the opening and flipped out his fully-erect cock. 

"Hmm, looks impressive, Dean," I said huskily, "but do you know what to do with it?" 

Licking the tip of my tongue along my lips, I saw his sardonic expression. He moved between my splayed thighs and pulled back his foreskin, exposing the engorged purple crown. It shone like a sergeant major's saber on a military parade ground and I'll admit I flinched when his weapon pressed against my pussy lips. But that’s because I was quite surprised at how naughty he was being. 

“What about Nicole?” I whispered. 

"What about her?" he said, somewhat bitterly. 

Listening intently, I heard the sound of the shower. Our eyes locked, I wiggled my hips, and we looked down at the glistening flesh nestled between my juicy cunt lips. 

"You know, she'll never let you do something like this to her, don't you?" I said softly and watched him nod.

I sensed he was mentally torn by what was happening, what he wanted, and what he was afraid of ending up with. I bucked my hips and then immediately moved backward. The white smear of sex juices coating the top centimeters of his cock still didn't enable him to make a decision. He was taking too long to decide.

I took control. 

Thrusting my abdomen toward him, I was rewarded with the delicious bittersweet feeling of his cock tormenting my clit. At least, this seemed to clear the last doubts from his mind, and he finally joined in. I gasped as his shaft slipped back and forth along my welcoming slit, sliding over the hairy flesh covering my pubic mound. We stared at each other while we dry humped and the feeling was intense. 

Truly intense.

The constant friction on my little man was enough to send me hurtling towards oblivion. Apparently, I wasn't the only one enjoying our dry-humping, although it was far from dry between my legs.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." 

The low and guttural obscenity confirmed exactly how much Dean was enjoying himself. The fact that I could bring him to climax by letting him rub against me, made me feel incredibly powerful — but I wanted more.

I shifted position and reached between my thighs, grasped his greasy pole and placed it at my warm, wet opening. I looked at him and saw indecision in his eyes. Then he mumbled, "Is this what you want?”

Was he kidding me? 

I stared at him and nodded. Above us, the sounds of the shower seemed diminished and Dean's pensive expression returned.

“What about Nicole? What if she catches us like this?” 

His internal struggle was understandable but it was beginning to annoy me. “What about her? She hates me anyway.” He nodded. "Listen, Dean, are we gonna fuck or are you wimping out on me?"

Anger flashed in his eyes and he nudged his cock toward my wet heat. But he still wasn’t convinced. “This is wrong,” he said.

My impatience snapped. Frustrated, I clutched his hips and pulled. His prick surged forward, gliding easily into my sopping wet cunt, gloriously filling me. I gasped with pleasure, gaining extra satisfaction from the surprised look on Dean's handsome face as his prick disappeared from sight.

“Really, really wrong.” 

"Yeah, yeah," I hissed. “So what? Fuck me.” 

Despite his reservations, he must have liked the way I squeezed my velvety tunnel around his cock because, without further ado, he began shagging me. Properly. With vigor.

“Nicole’s a lucky girl,” I said, sarcastically. Oh, what a bitch I can be.

Dean frowned at my victorious expression. Not surprising, really, and I admit that having tempted him into the garden of Eden while Nicole was only a few feet above our heads getting ready for their pub lunch, I had a rush of perverted pleasure.

I truly wished she would come downstairs and discover that her clean-shaven, well-groomed, handsome boyfriend was like any other man when presented with a horny slut dying for cock. She’d see that he enjoyed a quick, meaningless fuck as much as anyone else, without having to endure guilt, remorse, or feigned feelings of endearment to justify getting some. She’d also learn that he wanted to empty his spunk-filled balls as quick as possible. 

But, more than anything, I wanted her to see him shagging me

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up?” I guessed Dean’s need for physical release was winning the fight over his tormented conscience. 

"That's better, Dean,” I groaned, “treat me like the slag I am." 

The look of surprise on his face was a picture. It had obviously never occurred to him that I might actually like that sort of macho bullshit. I squeezed my cunt muscles tighter.

"Come on, fuck me like the whore you think I am. Fuck me like you know you'll never be able to fuck my sister."

He seemed to grow before my eyes. His demeanor changed, he became more confident, withdrawing his cock from my gaping slit and sneering at me. The sensation of sudden emptiness was unbearable but, looking at him, I realized I'd opened Pandora's box.

“Take it all, you slut,” he growled and propelled himself back inside me. 

I moaned loudly, gripped the arms of the chair, and lifted my abdomen to meet his thrusts. This seemed to energize him and he resumed fucking with more purpose. He slipped a hand between my thighs and pressed his thumb on the tiny hood covering my clit.

I slid forward, moaning and almost falling off the seat in my eagerness to let him use me. Dean's breathing was labored, his body taut with exertion. Grunts accompanied every thrust and sweat trickled down his face. 

I whimpered as he slammed gloriously into me but I couldn’t resist taunting him through gritted teeth. "Come on, you wanker, is that the best you can do?” 

The disbelieving incredulity on his face brought on a fit of the giggles. "Nicole will never say anything like that to you, Dean,” I sniggered. “You must know that.” 

He nodded. "It's hard to believe you're sisters," he said before another giggle spurred him on. “Show me your tits, slag.” 

I knew he was obsessed with my breasts but I didn't need the hassle that exposing them required. All I wanted was for him to keep fucking me. 

“I want to come all over them,” he said. 

I liked the way he was taking control. 

"Why my tits?" 

“When Nicole comes down, we'll know the damp spots on your nightshirt will be my spunk." 

I liked his devious thinking. Moaning wildly, I clenched my pussy around his invading flesh, while reaching between my legs.

“Did I say you could touch your pussy, slut?”

“N-no, but I'm so horny.” 

Dean looked hungrily at my juice-soaked fingertips. “Give me your fingers,” he demanded. I lifted my hand and he grasped my wrist, pulled, and opened his mouth as my fingers touched his lips. “You taste delicious, whore.” 

His comment made me happy, but I wasn't about to get mushy. "I've plenty more where that comes from, if you're man enough." My twisted, cruel smile was meant as a challenge. 

"I'll show you how manly I am," he grunted, pounding me, driving deep into my tunnel. "Now show me your tits." 

I scrunched up my nightshirt, exposing my fleshy orbs. "That's better, slut," he beamed and yanked his cock out of my cunt. He immediately started to furiously stroke his glistening shaft and, very quickly and without warning, huge globs of spunk splattered my chest, throat, and face.

He stood over me, grinning triumphantly, as I licked my spunk-frosted lips. "Hmm, delicious, Dean. Have you got some more for me?" 

He nodded before speaking. "I wanna taste you first," he said, dropping to his knees while pushing mine further apart. “Let me see your pussy.” 

Desperate to cum, I lifted my hips off the chair. “Not like that," he said, disdain in his tone. "Spread those flaps. Your Master wants to see some pink." His gruff, dirty talk was a huge turn on, and I could barely contain my excitement as I reached between my thighs. 

With trembling fingers, I tried pulling my labia apart but my sex was soaking wet. Extremely slippery. “I’m sorry, Master,” I said, upset that my slick pussy kept evading my grasp.

“You don’t need to apologize, slut,” Dean said before licking up and down the length of my slit. 

“Oh fuck! Does Nicole know how good you are with your mouth?” 

I shuddered when he twirled his tongue around my clitoris. I was so close and placed my hands on the top of his head. Two fingers penetrated me and began agitating my G-spot. That sent me over the edge. I tried smothering my screams but Dean had to be a complete moron if he didn’t realize that he'd given a woman what so many men attempt and few ever achieve: a mind-blowing orgasm. He kept darting his tongue over my sensitive bud, prolonging the sweet agony as my body jerked violently. 

My legs, wrapped around his neck, trembled uncontrollably and I continued gushing. I surrendered to Dean's expert mouth and gratefully rode the receding waves of ecstasy back to the lake of tranquility. 

That's when I felt his finger pressing against my starfish. I wondered if he would be a really bad boy. Correction, I hoped so.

Unfortunately, Dean's masterly demeanor seemed to wane. A fingertip constantly pushed past my sphincter but went no further. It felt like he couldn't make up his mind what to do next. I wanted him to follow through but the longer he took, it seemed the chances of it happening decreased. I decided to help.

Having replenished my bumhole with more cum, he resumed massaging the viscous fluid against my tight opening. That's when I pressed my ass down and, after the slightest hint of resistance, his digit slipped inside me.


Hearing that, Dean pushed deeper.

"Mooore," I crooned, pressing onto his hand. "Give me more..." 

A second finger pushed against my resisting hole before invading my back passage. “Lick my clit!” I demanded, pulling his head between my thighs. “I want to come again.”

This time, I didn't restrain myself. Erotic moans and screams filled the kitchen as my second orgasm tore through me. "Shush," momentarily silenced me, but Dean’s expert tongue and fingers prolonged my throes of ecstasy. More screams followed. 

"For fuck’s sake, you stupid slag… put a sock in it. If you keep that up, Nicole's bound to hear you." 

He was right, of course — but, as I've already said, I didn't care. That said, it was proving to be my most enjoyable shag in a long time and Nicole's presence would surely put the kibosh on it. So I clenched my teeth and, luckily, heard only the faint drone of a hairdryer, not running footsteps. 

Dean rose from his knees and I was pleased to see his cock was still hard.

"I'm gonna fuck your ass, whore. Stand up and bend over that bar stool." 

I tingled from the prospect of what was about to happen and because Dean had taken control. 

“Yes, Sir.” As I tip-toed past him, a hand swished through the air and landed squarely on my bum. An exquisite stinging sensation coursed through my body. Bent over the stool, my bare ass pointing at him, he spanked me again. 

"That's to keep you on your toes. Now spread 'em." 

Obediently, I moved my feet apart and was rewarded with another stinging slap. "Your ass, slut." 

I didn't need telling again. I reached back and grabbed my rosy buttocks. I still wasn’t sure that he’d go through with his promise until I felt his blunt helmet against my twitching asshole. Despite the copious pussy juices he'd massaged into my starfish, penetration wasn't as easy I'd hoped. Luckily, we were in the kitchen. 

"Master, there's olive oil in the cupboard above the oven. Maybe..." I didn't need to say anything else. Dean moved quick as a whippet and found the fluid solution to our problem. I watched him return and stand behind me. He began pouring. 

Thick, golden fluid splattered onto my red hot buttocks and Dean rubbed it liberally over my cheeks. Then he poured a stream onto the top of my crevice and I felt it flowing toward my asshole. Dean's thumb helped to thoroughly lubricate my entrance. 

“You really are an amazing little slut,” he said when his thumb slipped into my tight ring. “But we'd better not waste time, the hairdryer has stopped." 

I listened. Sure enough, the droning had been replaced by the dulcet tones of The Backstreet Boys. She always listened to them when dressing and applying makeup.

Holding my ass cheeks apart, I looked over my shoulder into Dean's flinty gaze. “Take me, Master," I said, wiggling my hips. 

Smiling smugly, he poured oil onto his rigid shaft and massaged it all over his erection, pulling back the foreskin and paying special attention to his thick, purple dome. 

Ensuring I was ready, he pushed in two fingers. I think he may have been surprised at the difference between a real lubricant and saliva and pussy juices. I moaned softly and, while he finger-fucked my ass and stroked his cock, he said how much he was going to enjoy sodomizing his girlfriend's whore sister.

Exchanging glances, we clearly believed what he was about to do, would never happen with Nicole. That fact made it more exciting. 

"I think you're ready now, slut." 

I whimpered and closed my eyes. "Do it," I urged through gritted teeth as his tip touched my back door. "Stick it in me."

He was still holding his manhood when the mushroom helmet slipped inside.

"Oooh my God.” My tone was a throaty growl. "It feels so good." 

Dean slid easily inside me, inch by gorgeous inch, his thrust, steady and powerful, while he gripped my hips. Guessing — correctly as it turns out — what Nicole's boyfriend was planning, I shut my eyes and happily accepted this anal invasion.

"Dean, don't stop. Pleeese, don't stop."

But he stopped pushing. Instead, he began withdrawing his cock. 

"Nooo," I wailed, like a feline ally cat, when his engorged helmet pulled past my slippery sphincter. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Dean pouring more olive oil over his erection. Now there was a fierce determination in his eyes. 

"I'm gonna make you sorry for all the teasing you've put me through these last couple of weeks." He finished coating his cock and then slapped it against my buttocks. "Brace yourself, slut."

I don't know who was more surprised by the ease of penetration. By the way his pelvis slammed into my cheeks, he was obviously expecting more resistance than he encountered. His wiry pubic hair pressed against my buttocks almost immediately and his prick was buried as deep inside me as was possible. For my part, I simply tried to get my breath back after letting loose an explosive stream of profanities. 

"You like that, don't you, slut?” 

“Uh-huh.” A stinging slap on my bum was punishment for not calling him 'Master.' He started gradually withdrawing his manhood, stopping when the rim of his helmet was at my tight entrance. Suddenly, he pulled my hips toward him and thrust forward, instantly filling my passage.

Upstairs, The Backstreet Boys were still audible, providing a steady beat while Dean pounded my bum. His long, deep and steady thrusts were driving me crazy and I knew I'd soon be screaming the house down again. 

“I’m going to come, Master, with your long, thick prick up my ass,” I hissed. He didn't answer but his grunting grew louder and his grip on my waist tightened considerably.

"Cum for me, Master," I urged, my voice dark and guttural. I held on to the bar stool to keep my balance.

"Yes, yes, yesss," Dean cried between clenched teeth and slammed his cock home. Hot, thick spunk splattered my insides, each expulsion accompanied by a powerful spasm which rocked me. As he kept ejaculating, he murmured, "You gorgeous, fucking bitch," over and over again. Although I hadn't reached an orgasm, it was clear Dean needed to release his pent-up frustrations. I was happy to accommodate him. When he was spent, he collapsed over me, rubbing his hands tenderly up and down my thighs.

“Are you alright, Andrea?”.

“Yes, Master,” I said softly. 

What had started out as one thing, had developed into another. I’m sure we both felt the connection. 

Suddenly, the music stopped playing upstairs. The moment was over. Dean unceremoniously pulled his semi-erect cock from my hole, stuffed it back inside his boxers, and said he was going to have a shower.

I was left, bent over the bar stool, his cum trickling from my well-used orifice and down my thighs, to contemplate what had happened. Smugly, I knew that Nicole would never be able to emulate this.

Author's note: This story was inspired by Abigail Thornton's story, "Fucking the wrong sister in the wrong hole." If you liked this story then you will definitely enjoy reading hers, and once again a big thank you to Jwren for his encouragement and editing.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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