The next morning, the four of us went to church. As we walked up for communion, my brother whispered, "We may need to go up twice after last night." I did not look back, but I am sure I had a funny look on my face as I walked up the aisle. 

After we got home, it was our normal Sunday routine. Mom made pizza for lunch. Dad fell asleep in his chair, and I went downstairs to lounge around. 

Lying on the couch, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I looked up from where I was to see my brother walking around the corner. 

“What the hell do you want?”

No words. Just a slow nod toward my bedroom, like a silent order.

“Are you nuts? Last night was risky enough with them asleep. They’re awake now.”

“You seriously think I was the problem? You’re the one that screamed while squirting all over my cock and balls—don’t fucking twist it.”  

“Fine. Head back up. Give me ten minutes—I’ve got something to deal with first.”

He didn’t say it, but the glare screamed for Christ’s sake before he spun around and climbed the stairs.  

I jumped up and ran into my room. I went through some of my drawers looking for something to put on. 

But first—a long, hard drag from my THC pen. I needed to deaden the doubt clawing at me, to silence the fear that wouldn’t quit.

I settled on my Strawberry Shortcake look—tight red corset that barely held in my boobs, matching thong, a sheer white mesh skirt dotted with strawberries, and those green-and-white striped socks with red heels to top it off.

I pulled my wavy hair into a high ponytail and hit my neck with a spritz of my favorite perfume—sweet, but filthy underneath.

Good timing on my part—I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. My door, barely cracked, creaked open slowly. He stepped in.

The look on his face said everything. Shock. Amazement. Approval. Lust. Like he hadn’t expected this, but damn sure wanted it.

He moved behind me slowly, pulled the string on my skirt, and let it drop to the floor like it didn’t matter.

Then he pressed up against me, hands sliding around to grab my tits—overflowing from the too-small corset, nipples threatening to spill free.

 He went to work on the corset, unclasping each hook like he was unwrapping a present he already owned. One by one, until the last gave way.

 He slid the straps off my shoulders, dragged them down my arms, and with the slightest nudge, it joined the skirt on the floor.

My tits overflowed in his hands—full, heavy, and more than he could hold. He squeezed them hard, kneading like he was working warm dough.

When he rolled my nipples between his fingers, slow and deliberate, my knees nearly buckled.

“Stay right there,” he whispered as his hands left my skin. I heard him fumbling with something, then felt it—his cock, long, thick and hard, laying against my lower back.

There must’ve been no room left in his shorts, and now he was letting me feel exactly what I’d done to him.

His hands were back on my tits—grabbing, squeezing, like he couldn’t get enough. He leaned in close, breathing me in, lips finding my neck.

He kissed along it slow, then moved up to my ear, sucking soft on the lobe before dragging his teeth across it, just enough to make me twitch.

My knees damn near gave out again.

One of his hands slid down my stomach, slipping right into the front of my thong. His fingers glided over bare skin, slow and hungry, until he found the gold at the end of the rainbow—and fuck, did he dig in.

One of his fingers slid between my lips, seeking out my wetness, my need. He stroked it up and down a few slow, deliberate times before pulling it free. Holding it up in front of my face, he growled, “Look at this. See what you’ve done?”

I leaned forward, took his finger into my mouth, and licked it clean. I swear—this time it was his knees that nearly gave out.

His hand slid back into my thong, fingers slipping straight through my slick slit like he already knew the way. He sucked hard on my earlobe, breath hot, while his other hand pinched and rolled my nipples like he was trying to break me apart with just his fingers.

Then he spun me around—one hand still buried between my legs, the other grabbing a handful of my ass like he was claiming it.

We locked eyes. It was filthy, dangerous—like staring into someone who saw all that was naughty in you and wanted every bit of it. Everything about it screamed wrong, and yet my body was fucking buzzing.

Then came the surprise—we kissed.

It started slow, sweet even—light, teasing pecks. But that didn’t last. Tongues shoved in, mouths wide, wet, sloppy—like we couldn’t get enough, like we wanted to taste every filthy thought we’d had about each other.

Then he leaned down, his mouth brushing my ear, voice low and rough, full of command and hunger:

“Kneel.”

I didn’t even hesitate.

Dropped down in front of him, turned to face him, and his cock slapped against my chin as I settled in—thick, hot, and twitching like it was waiting for me.

I stared at it—thick, slick, just inches from my lips. Then looked up at him, locked eyes, and opened wide.

I leaned in and took him slow, deep as I could manage, letting his cock slide over my tongue, inch by inch. My head started moving—back and forth, smooth and steady—his shaft gliding in and out of my mouth like I was made for it.

Minutes passed with me on my knees, working him, lost in it—tongue swirling, throat flexing, spit dripping. Then his hands came down and gripped my head, fingers firm.

He started rocking his hips—slow, controlled thrusts—like he was feeding me his cock one bite at a time.

And I was starving.

One hand left, the other tightened around my ponytail, holding me in place like I was his to use.

And I was.

He started pulling my head back and forth by the ponytail, and fuck—it made everything filthier. He owned the pace now. The depth. I was just there, mouth open, throat stretched, letting him use me.

If his cock didn’t have so much damn girth, I could’ve taken more—all of it. And I wanted to. God, I wanted to.

Still gripping my hair tight, he pulled back, my lips wet, spit dripping down my chin. He leaned in—eyes dark—and crashed his mouth into mine, tongue diving deep.

We kissed like animals—wild, messy, nothing sweet about it. Just pure, feral lust.

When he stood up, he yanked me to my feet by my hair. “On the bed. Lie back.” His voice was thick, rough, soaked in lust.

I sprang up off the floor, letting him lead me like I was on a leash. Climbed onto the bed, legs wide, knees bent, my soaked pussy on full display—daring him to do something about it.

He dove in face-first, licking, sucking, trying. But fuck, it was more enthusiasm than skill. His tongue was all over the place—like he was starving but didn’t know how to eat.

I gave him a minute. Maybe two. But my body wasn’t fooled.

Finally, I tangled my fingers in his hair, gave it a hard tug, and growled,

“Get the fuck up here.” 

He crawled up between my spread thighs, cock in hand, dragging the swollen head through my dripping slit. The second he touched me, my pussy responded—lips parting like they’d been waiting for the spell to be spoken.

He pressed in, slow but steady, thick head breaching me, then more… more… until he bottomed out, buried to the base.

My body took it all. No hesitation. No resistance. Just wet, greedy need.

He started fucking me—;ong, deep, hard thrusts, like he couldn’t get far enough inside of me. His cock filled every inch, stretching me with every slam of his hips.

I glanced up at him, eyes locking—and that’s when the filthy truth hit me all over again, this is my brother! So wrong, so reckless.

Unforgivable.

And that made it even hotter.

It didn’t take long—just a few minutes and I was already cumming.

Hard.

I exploded around him, my body shaking, soaking his cock and balls like a fucking lawn sprinkler gone wild. Wet, messy, obscene.

That only pushed him harder.

He slammed into me like he was trying to fuck the orgasm right out of me again, hips pounding, balls slapping, every thrust deeper than the last.

I bit down on my knuckle, desperate to stay quiet. Our parents were upstairs, and every slap of skin, every gasp, every squirt was a risk. But holding it in while getting railed like that?

It was fucking impossible.

The second orgasm was building fast, boiling up inside me, no stopping it.

I grabbed the nearest pillow, shoved it over my face, and let it out.

My whole body clenched as the orgasm tore through me, raw and savage. I groaned into the pillow, long and loud, muffled but not nearly enough.

“OHHH FUCKKKK—” It ripped out of me like a scream dragged through fire.

I felt myself gush again, soaking him, soaking the sheets—my thighs trembling, hips rocking into him, taking everything he was giving me. He didn’t slow down.

“You’re gonna get us caught!” he hissed, thrusting into me like he didn’t actually care.

“You’re the one makin’ all the fuckin’ noise!” I shot back, gripping the sheets, biting my lip to keep from screaming again.

He smirked, eyes wild. “Yeah? Then shut the fuck up and take it.”

With that, he threw my ankles over his shoulders and started pounding—hard and fast. Each thrust hit deep, sharp, relentless. My back arched off the bed, breath catching in my throat.

Oh god… I could feel it building again, that hot wave rising fast.

From the look on his face—jaw clenched, eyes locked on mine—he wasn’t far behind either. He was lost in it. We both were. Sweat, skin, slick sounds echoing off the walls like a rhythm we couldn’t stop.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped, barely able to get the words out. And fuck—he didn’t.

He gripped my thighs like he owned them, hammering me into my mattress with every brutal thrust. The sound of skin slapping filled the room, fast and filthy.

“You gonna cum again?” he growled through gritted teeth, eyes flicking down to watch his cock disappear inside me over and over.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

I could barely answer. My mouth opened, but all that came out was a choked moan, my body already spiraling.

And then it hit both of us. 

My legs shook, toes curling, back arching, face buried into the pillow as I came hard.

His back arched as he drove deep, hips locked tight against mine, body flexing with every hot pulse as he unloaded inside me.

Thick. Warm. So much.

I felt every shot coat my insides while my legs finally gave out and slid from his shoulders. He collapsed on top of me, heavy, spent, breathing like he’d just run through fire.

I tore the pillow off my face, gasping for air, chest heaving against his.

We were both drenched in sweat—skin tacky, bodies tangled, sheets ruined. The smell of sex clung to the air like a fog, thick and filthy.

His breath was hot against my neck, shallow and uneven. He didn’t move, just laid there—his cock still buried deep inside me, slowly softening, still twitching now and then like it wasn’t done yet.

I wrapped my legs around him lazily, more reflex than intention, holding him there.

Sticky. Full. Wrecked.

I ran a hand down his back, slick with sweat, nails dragging lightly just to feel the tension in his muscles.

“Holy fuck,” I finally muttered, voice hoarse, lips brushing his ear.

He let out a rough little laugh against my shoulder. “Yeah.”

I nodded, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, the weight of what we’d done slowly crashing back into me—but so did the lingering pulse between my legs, the ache, the slick reminder of every inch he gave me.

“Round two,” I said, lips curling into a wicked smirk, “after I pee, though.”

I slipped out of bed, my legs still rubbery, and walked into the bathroom. I reached for a hand towel and lowered myself onto the toilet, releasing with a soft sigh. The air was warm, and my skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat.

I ran the towel gently over my chest and down my stomach, catching the dampness that still clung to me. When I stood, I took a moment to clean between my thighs, slow and deliberate, the heat from earlier still humming faintly under my skin. I tossed the towel into the hamper with a flick of my wrist.

Back in the bedroom, I paused in the doorway. My bed was a wreck—sheets twisted, pillows on the floor, and the unmistakable imprint of passion soaked into the fabric. A crooked smile tugged at my lips. It was a mess.

I asked if he needed to do anything before we went again. He nodded. “Yeah… I wouldn’t mind hitting the bathroom real quick—maybe wiping down a bit too.”

I listened from the bed as he walked off, heard the stream of his piss hitting the bowl, and rolled my eyes. Please don’t piss all over the damn seat, I thought, half annoyed. A moment later, water ran, followed by the soft scrape of a wash rag. He was cleaning himself up. I smirked—points for effort.

I reached for him, fingers curling around his oversized cock. Warm, heavy, starting to thicken under my touch. I stroked him slowly and steadily, feeling every ridge, every bit of response. His breath hitched just a little—barely noticeable, but I caught it.

“You’re hard already?” I teased, fingers wrapping around his cock, dragging my nails over the swollen head.

He grinned like a fucking perv, eyes locked on my boobs. “Your fucking tits, they’re so fucking big! Of course I’m ready.”

I leaned in, letting them press against him, soft skin rubbing his torso, my nipples stiff and needy. I could tell this drove him crazy!

“What do you think?” I whispered, ready, wanting. “Want it doggie?”

“Kneel on the chair. Hold the back,” he growled.

I smirked and climbed up, presenting my ass to him, back arched. My pussy was ready, wanting him—he could see it. I knew he liked that.

He moved in fast, lined himself up, and pushed his head through my lips. I whimpered—then a muffled moan as he slammed into me in one savage stroke.

I threw my head back, “Fuck,” I muddered.

His hands grabbed my hips tightly, fingers digging in, and he started pounding me, no buildup, just raw, deliberate thrusts. My body jarred with every slam, the chair squealing beneath me. I wanted everything he had to give me.

“Yeah. Fuck me, use me.”

And he did—balls slapping, cock drilling deep, his grip leaving my hips only to tangle in my hair, yanking it back like reins.

“Yeah,” I gasped, voice cracking. “Pull my hair—harder!”

He grunted and yanked harder, making my back arch, my ass tilt up even more for him. I clung to the back of the chair as he just kept pounding, relentless, balls smacking against me.

It started to build again—low, tight, pulsing deep inside. I didn’t say a word. Just held on and let him wreck me.

A few more brutal strokes and I shattered—body locking, legs trembling, breath frozen in my throat.

He felt it. Knew it. Pulled my hair harder, stretched me back, and I let out a ragged, desperate uuugghhhhh as my whole body quacked around him.

As before, I squirted—again—soaking his balls, splashing down his thighs, everything between us soaked and messy.

“Fuck,” he groaned, slamming in deeper, chasing his own edge now.

His pace never changed. He just kept slamming into me like it was his only mission in life—steady, ruthless, deep.

Our breath filled the room, loud and uneven, bodies slick with sweat and sex. My fingers gripped the chair harder as my mind drifted.

I can’t believe this is my brother is fucking me.
But fuck… I want more.

I tilted my hips back, greedy for every inch. He growled behind me, hands now gripping my hips tight, using me like I was made for it.

Every thrust pushes me towards another orgasm. I wanted to be ruined.

“Goddamn,” he muttered.

“I don’t care,” I gasped. “Don’t stop. Just keep fucking me.”

And he did—like nothing else mattered.

I started to whimper, my moans slipping out faster than I could catch them. “Oh my god… it’s gonna happen again…”

I bit my lip, tried to muffle it—but it burst out anyway, louder than either of us wanted. After all, our parents were upstairs, awake. 

“I’m cumming!” I cried, voice breaking, eyes squeezed shut.

He didn’t slow down—not even a little. His rhythm turned feral, fast as his body could move, slamming into me over and over until he bottomed out with a growl.

And then—he let go.

I felt him push deep inside me, then the flood—hot, thick, spilling into me, filling me up again.

Fourth time in under twenty-four hours.

“Fuck,” he breathed, having trouble keeping his legs under him, both of us shaking and drenched. “FUCK YES.”

He finally slid out of me with a wet, sticky sound that made us both pause. I let out a soft gasp—my body aching, stretched, leaking from every hole he’d used.

I slumped forward against the chair, arms limp, legs barely holding. My thighs were soaked, his cum dripping down in slow, lazy trails. I didn’t even try to stop it.

Behind me, he just stood there, watching, cock softening but still glistening, his breath ragged like he’d just run a marathon.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “That pussy’s gonna fucking kill me.”

I turned my head slightly, lips parted, cheeks flushed. “You should be on the receiving end of that tool!”

We didn’t say much—didn’t need to. The room reeked of sex, skin, and something slightly feral. Sheets were kicked to the floor. My towel was nowhere in sight. The chair creaked behind me like it had seen too much.

“You okay?” he asked finally, voice a little softer.

I nodded slowly. “Used, weak in the knees.”

He grinned. “Perfect.”

I stood up on shaky legs, cum still trickling out of me, and reached for the edge of the dresser for...