One night, around midnight, I got a text from him: Come up to my room.

I replied no way—our parents were home.

He kept at it though, texting and poking until I finally gave in. I crept upstairs, slow and silent, every step like a risk. 

When I got to his door, I slipped inside and shut it softly behind me.

We spoke in near-silence, our voices barely even whispers.

He wanted to do it on his bed, but I shut that down quick—no way, that thing creaked like crazy and would definitely bang the wall.

So we ended up carefully lifting the mattress off the frame and laying it flat on the floor.

He dropped his shorts, and I tossed my t-shirt to the side.

I knelt next to the mattress, and he stepped up close—his cock already swelling. 

I grabbed it, felt the weight of it in my hand, then brought it to my lips and took him in my mouth.

Warm, slow at first, then deeper.

Didn’t take long before he was rock hard, filling my mouth.

I pointed to the mattress, telling him to lie down, without saying a word.

I climbed on top of him, straddled his face, and dropped my pussy right onto his mouth.

He opened up, tongue ready, licking like he lived for it. I bent forward, took his cock back between my lips, and sucked while he ate me from underneath—messy, wet, and desperate.

We stayed like that for a long time, lost in it, until he finally pulled back and begged, without words, to be inside me.

Still dead quiet—our parents right next door—I shifted my hips and climbed up over his cock, lining him up before slowly sinking down onto him.

I bit my lip to keep from making a sound, leaning forward with my hands on his chest as I started riding him, slow and steady.

Every slide up and down his thick cock had me wanting, the silence, the risk, the heat of it all making it even better.

I kept riding him slow, grinding my hips in smooth, steady rolls. His hands slid up my thighs, gripping me tighter as I moved, but I didn’t speed up—not yet. I wanted both of us aching for it.

His cock sliding deep inside me, every inch hitting just right as I moved, dragging that lust out as slow as I could manage.

 I leaned forward again, my hands flat on his chest, eyes locked on his while I rode him with that same careful rhythm.

The room was still. Every breath, every shift of my hips felt loud. The sound of our bodies sliding together and an unlocked door was the only thing between us and getting caught.

He groaned under his breath, barely holding it in, and I grinned, knowing he was closer and was helpless in the pace I set. 

I clenched around him on purpose, slow and tight, and watched his face twist beneath me.

My legs were starting to shake, but I didn’t stop. I wanted to feel every stroke, every bit of him, while keeping my moans buried in my throat.

It was quiet, it was filthy, and it was only getting hotter.

I didn’t let myself speed up. Every slow, deep grind pulled more heat between us, but I held back, savoring the edge. My hips rolled in tight, controlled circles, each movement coaxing his cock to pulse inside me without letting it tip over.

His breath low in his throat, fingers digging into my thighs as if trying to hold me in place. 

I kept my hands pressed to his chest, steady and sure, matching my rhythm to the quiet thud of our hearts.

The silence stretched, thick and electric, the kind that makes your skin crawl with wanting. I felt myself getting wetter, tighter around him, but I refused to give in. Not yet.

I tensed my muscles, clenching slowly and deliberately, squeezing him deep while my hips moved softly and slowly, dragging the pleasure out like a secret. His eyes locked on mine, dark and hungry, begging without words.

Keeping my control while the fire between us flared hotter. The tension was building, but the release? Still far away.

I let my pace shift just a little—still slow, but with a softer grind that pressed him deeper inside me. 

His hands moved from my thighs to my hips, guiding me, steady but eager. I leaned forward, lips brushing his collarbone, breathing his skin while I rode him with slow, rolling circles—each one a whisper closer to the edge.

The tight coil in my belly wound tighter, every inch of him filling me perfectly, every movement igniting a fire that crept from my core outward. I bit my lip to hold back a moan, but it was crawling up my throat.

His breath was louder now, ragged and desperate, fingers digging in harder. Our eyes locking again, let my hips rock a little faster—still deliberate, still slow enough to savor, but with just enough urgency to send us spiraling.

The world narrowed, the deep pulse of his cock inside me. I was starting to tighten around him.  The squeeze of my pussy hugged him tighter, tighter.  I was dragging us closer to that sweet release.

I kept rocking slow, then pushed just a little harder, letting my hips roll deeper, tighter, pulling every inch of him inside me. The tension snapped like a live wire. I absolutely exploded, gushing all over him!

I did my best to do everything I could to keep quiet when a little squeak slipped from my mouth. My eyes got huge, and I slapped my hands over my mouth as I rode the rest of the wave. 

His hands clamped tight on my hips as that little squeak from me pushed him over the edge. I felt his cock thicken, swelled even more, and then—just like the other times—he started cumming. I could feel several of his shots splash deep inside me.

He was wanting to groan, trying like hell to muffle it, doing a much better job than I did.

I collapsed forward, chest to his, my body still rolling inside from aftershocks.

We were both panting, breathless like we’d just sprinted a mile—only this run was straight down a filthy, erotic path both of us loved to be on. 

I stayed on top of him, my chest pressed to his, both of us slick with sweat and heat. His cock was still buried inside me, softening slightly but not enough to slip free.

He brushed his hands up and down my back, fingers wide. I leaned in, and our mouths met—slow, deep, almost tender but not really. His tongue moved lazily with mine, neither of us ready to let it go yet.

We kissed for a while, not rushing, just breathing into each other—lips, wet, tongues dragging slowly. Now and then, I would shift my hips slightly, feeling him still soaking inside me

I didn’t stop kissing him. I didn't want to stop kissing him.

My lips stayed on his, mouths locked, tongues sliding—getting deeper, messier. Every time I pulled back, just a breath apart, I dove back in, taking more.

We took turns sucking on each other's tongues, mini blowjobs if you will. 

He groaned again into my mouth, and I kissed it right out of him—tilted my head, grabbed the sides of his face, and fucked him with my tongue just as slowly as I was about to do with my hips.

His cock grew again inside me, swelling back to life, stretching me full as I shifted and ground down against him. Still slow. Still deep. But everything went past being hot—it was an absolute inferno. 

Every time I rolled my hips, he exhaled into my mouth—and I exhaled back into his.

I finally broke the kiss and sat up, still straddling him, his cock deep inside me. I twirled my hips in a slow circle—first clockwise, then counterclockwise—dragging him against every inch of me.

His hands holding my boobs, pinching my nipples, like he was fighting the urge to thrust up into me.

I leaned back slightly, my nipples stretched, and started rocking my hips back and forth, keeping that pressure steady and slow.

We wanted to fuck—really fuck—thrust into each other hard and loud until the mattress shook beneath us. But we couldn’t. Not with the house so still. Not with our parents, just across the hall.

So we moved in silence, hips grinding in rhythm, breathing irregularly.
Every time I circled my hips again, he wanted to flip me over and pound me into the floor—but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

And that made it even hotter

He kept working my nipples, fingers rolling them tight, pinching and tugging. He stretched them until it almost hurt—almost, no, it hurt—and that sweet sting only sent another shock straight to my legs.

He already knew what that did to me. My nipples and my pussy were wired together like one live circuit, and he had his fingers right on the switch.

I kept wiggling on top of him, hips grinding in slow, filthy motions, angling him just right, letting every stroke hit that perfect spot deep inside me. The pressure was building fast now, faster than I could control.

I didn’t dare make a sound, but my body was screaming on the inside.
My legs were trembling, stomach tightening, my pussy clenching around him harder and harder with every grind.

Then it hit.

I came like a fucking volcano—squirting so hard I could hear it, the wet splash of it soaking him, splattering across his hips, thighs, all over him while his cock still buried inside me.

My whole body seized and shook, wave after wave ripping through me until the room started to close in on me. My balance gave out for a second, and I collapsed forward onto his chest. 

I managed to suck in a breath, letting the world open back up to me.

And still, somehow, I didn’t make a sound.

But the mess all over him told the whole story.

My head next to his, breathing heavily, when he whispered into my ear, "How about the butt?" 

I sat up enough to look at him, He wanted to finish in my ass.

I bit my lip, still breathless, and gave a tiny nod.

Then I carefully lifted off him, my pussy dripping and my thighs soaked as I knelt forward on all fours above the mattress.

I whispered, "Lube?" and he nodded.

Retrieving a small bottle from his nightstand

Opening the bottle, taking some into his hand, stroking himself, and lining up without a word.

 I felt his hands on my hips, guiding me back, and the slick head of his cock pressing against my little brown butthole.

The tip pressed against my ass—slow, steady.
I tried to breathe, trying to relax, my body still trembling from the orgasm that had just shattered me from the inside out.

It took time—minutes, maybe—but eventually I started to open for him. He didn’t rush. Just eased in, inch by thick inch, stretching me wider until I gasped into a pillow and clawed at the sheets.

I tried my hardest not to make a sound, but fuck—his cock was stretching me. I kept breathing through it, doing everything I could to stay loose, but it was big.

Real big.

This wasn’t my first time taking it in the ass—but no one I’d let back there had been built like this. Not even close.

I pulled myself together just enough to remember the trick—pushing out slightly.
I gave a gentle push, and my tight little butthole finally gave way. My asshole, stretching around his thick head until it popped in making me jump.

I froze there, body locked around him, stuffed full.

With a firm grip on my hips, he slowly pulled me back onto him. I felt his cock slide in deeper—inch by inch—until his hips were flush against my ass, his body tight against the back of my thighs.

He was ball deep up my ass!

He held me there for a second, letting me get used to it a little. 

Then he started to move—slow at first—rocking me forward, then dragging me back onto him again.

His cock slid in and out of my ass with a steady pressure that made my eyes roll back.

FUCK, I thought, I may never sit the same again.

The pace picked up, little by little, each thrust more deliberate.

No teasing now—this was turning into a full-on, honest-to-god ass fucking. And I took it, face down, ass up, jaw clenched to keep quiet while he was ramming it to me.

A few minutes in, I started wondering how much longer he could last—hell, how much longer I could last.

My head was spinning, my arms were weak, body trembling from the stretch and grind.

That’s when I felt his hands slide slowly up my back, strong and steady, before gripping my shoulders tightly.

He pulled me back onto him, deep—so deep I felt his hips press against my ass.

And then it hit me.

His cock, buried to the base.

Oh fuck—he was coming.

I could feel it—the ripples roll through his cock—shooting his cum deep inside my ass, pulse after pulse.

My mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Just a rush of having taken him, and a flood of relief mixed with the raw, filthy thrill of it all.

I was soaked, dizzy, dazed, used—and fuck, I’d never been more turned on.

He stayed pressed tight to my ass for a couple minutes, both of us catching our breath, his cock still buried deep.

Then, slowly, he began to pull back.

I felt the head slide toward the edge, and instinctively tightened around him, trying to hold on.

But once he slipped out, I collapsed in a heap on the bed, completely spent.

He leaned over, brushed my hair from my face, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “You did great.”

He lay beside me, close, quiet.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

I just smiled and nodded, still too dazed to speak.

“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go down to your room and take a shower. I’ll scrub you down, wash your hair, get you into bed.”

That made me smile again—warm and stupid and sore in all the right ways. I nodded yes.

We moved carefully and quietly, slipping out of his room and heading downstairs like two dirty little ghosts.

In the shower, true to his word, he soaped me up from head to toe—slow, thorough, tender. He washed my hair, rinsed me clean, then helped towel me off like I was made of glass.

After blow-drying my hair halfway, I crawled into bed, warm and worn out.

He reached behind my nightstand, pulled out a small box, and handed it to me.

“I got you a little something.”

I opened it and laughed—inside were five pairs of panties.

When I looked up at him, still grinning, he just smirked.

“I want you to think about me when you wear them.”

I laughed, softer this time, and said, “I promise I will.”

After he kissed me goodnight, he slid in behind me, one arm around my waist, pulling me close.

The room was dark, still, and the only sound was the quiet hum of the fan and our breathing, slow and steady.

My body ached in the best way. My ass was sore, my thighs sore, even my jaw a little tired from everything we'd done. But inside, I was floating—warm, full, and still buzzing from the way he'd taken me.

I thought about those panties in the box. About the way he’d looked at me when he gave them to me.

Possessive. Proud.

This was turning into a really fun secret between us. 

And maybe I liked that more than I was ready to admit.

The next morning, I woke up to soft light slipping through the blinds and the smell of coffee coming from upstairs.

I sat up, still naked, hair a mess, body sore in all the right places—and there on the pillow beside me was a pair of panties from the box. Black lace. Tiny. Very him.

I smirked, slipped them on, and pulled a soft t-shirt over my head. No bra. No shame. Then I padded upstairs like nothing had happened.

In the kitchen, Mom was already making breakfast. She glanced at me over her shoulder and asked what I wanted.

My brother was on the other side of the breakfast bar, cool as ever, sipping from his mug. Without a word, he slid one across the counter to me.

Our fingers brushed as I took it. He smiled.

While Mom had her head buried in the fridge, I turned my back to him and casually lifted the back of my t-shirt, just for a second.

Long enough for him to see those little black lace panties hugging my ass, riding high on my hips, just like he wanted.

I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I could feel his eyes burning through me.

And all day, every time the fabric shifted against my skin, I thought about him.

Just like he wanted me to.