Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 01

After they'd finished eating, over coffee, Michael reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a small jewelry box. He nonchalantly set it on the table between them. Mouse's face brightened, but she eyed it, and him, warily.

"That's not an engagement ring, I hope," Mouse said mock seriously. "It's way too soon, I'm afraid. You haven't even introduced me to your parents."

They both laughed easily. Mouse reached eagerly for the box and picked it up.

"Hell, jewelry is jewelry. I don't care what I have to do to earn it," she said, glancing at him suggestively.

She opened the box to find a small necklace on a delicate silver chain. The pendant on the end was made of silver and white gold. It showed a silver crescent moon, with a small diamond star at the top tip. A tiny white gold mouse sat reclining against the inside arc of the moon, reading a book, much as her cartoon mouse had clung to Michael's arching manhood in her recent drawing. In fact, it was an exact, if publicly viewable, near copy of another cartoon Mouse had sent months ago, one of her first. The double entendre of mouse and moon, Mouse and Michael, was inescapable. Even the diamond star at the tip of the moon had its parallel for them, she thought.

"Oooooh, Michael. Michael, I love it! Where ever did you find it? It's beautiful, it's magic!" she cooed, holding it up in front of her to look at it closely.

Michael grinned broadly. "You really like it?"

Mouse rolled her eyes in reply. "And after I've been such a shit to you, today. I feel like crap. Thanks." She scowled theatrically, then quickly reignited her smile. She unclasped the necklace she was already wearing, dropped it into the jewelry box, and put this one on in its place.

"It cost a small fortune, I don't mind saying," Michael put in. "I had it custom made, by a friend who has a friend that makes jewelry."

"I can't believe you did this. Well, I can, I'm worth it, but I can't believe you were that thoughtful," she said, the sparkle in her eyes belying her words.

"Can't believe I was that thoughtful, or can't believe I was thinking about you?"

This made her smile all the more. It was better than any present he could bring.

"You're sweet," she said shyly, suddenly, inexplicably unable to look her brother in the eye. Then her eyes went wide. "And I feel like such a shit! I didn't get anything for you."

Michael looked down into his coffee.

"We'll think of something," he said through a smile.

* * *

Later that evening, after dinner but before they left the restaurant, Mona headed off to the ladies room. To her horror, Alicia ambushed her there. Her nervous unease had already returned during the meal. With her friend there, confronting her, the anxiety heightened instantly, as if it had never diminished. Alicia focused right on the necklace.

"I saw him give it to you," she said with wide eyes. "I mean, I wasn't spying... exactly," she added slyly. "Well, I was, I'm trying to figure out if you two are a cute couple, if he's good for you." She leaned in closely to look at the pendant.

She smiled. "Keep him. It's not my style, but it suits you, and any guy that flies out to see you and drops jewelry on you is a keeper. He looks like your type. Older, tall, bald. That's the kind of guy I always see you with. And he's got really warm eyes, like you. You like him, right? I mean... that way?"

Mouse felt she had been backed into the wall by the torrent of opinions and questions. She took a moment to compose herself. The "eyes like you" comment stuck in her thoughts. She was still unprepared, but this time, at least, she improvised well. Using the truth selectively always helped when improvising, she knew.

"He's sweet. A bit of a dork," Mona said distractedly, but finding the words easily. "Maybe a bit boring, but I like boring. I've got enough personality for both of us," she said, laughing.

"No kidding. Is he good in bed?"

"What makes you think I've slept with him?"

"Mona, come on, it's me, Alicia. You've slept with him, no question."

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I want this one to be special," she said, trying to imply that she hadn't, and knowing Alicia would never buy it. This was the one place she really didn't want this conversation to go. But Alicia wouldn't push it. And Michael was special, in that she was never, ever supposed to have slept with him.

Alicia eyed her for a moment, then accompanied her back without asking a second time. Both men were waiting at the front door, talking sports. Alicia looped her arm through John's, so Mouse felt obliged to do the same with Michael.

As long as Alicia was here and intruding, Mouse figured she'd make use of her. She dug a digital camera out of her purse and held it out to Alicia.

"Would you do me a favor, Alicia? Could you take a picture of us? We don't see each other very often. And I never get to see him cleaned up all nice in a suit."

"Sure," Alicia agreed happily, taking the camera from Mouse. She took too long snapping too many photos, then handed the camera back.

"Gosh, Mona. I just realized, you two look like brother and sister," she said, turning to John. "Can you see it, in the eyes and the nose? And the cheeks?"

"I don't know," John said non-committally. "I mean, he's over six feet tall and she's five foot not-so-much, at best. And she's not nearly as bald as he is."

Everyone laughed at the remark. Mouse used the distraction to beat a hasty retreat, dragging Michael away while saying her goodbyes, all before Alicia could ask if they wanted to join them.

Once they were safely in the car, Michael and Mouse both stared at each other with eyes wide, and then burst out laughing.

"Holy, shit!" Mouse declared.

"You said it, sister," Michael agreed.

"Sssssh," Mouse hissed. "Don't call me sister, they could be listening."

They both laughed some more as Mouse started the car. She pulled away, realizing that at this point "nervous" didn't begin to describe the feeling.

* * *

She pulled up to his hotel, in the drop off lane right at the door, not into a parking space.

"Here's your stop, sir," she said professionally.

Michael looked at her in disbelief. He didn't even say it. He figured it was a joke, and he didn't want to fall for it.

"I'm sorry Michael, I know we've been planning this for a month. I really, really want to come up. But I'm just... I just need time to think, you know? You're tired."

He started to protest, but she cut him off.

"You're tired, I'm tired, I'm a little whacky today. It's not you, it's me, but still. I just have to get things sorted out. Just one night. I promise, tomorrow will be special, I promise."

Michael was stunned. He was out of the car, already feeling her quick peck of a kiss fading. She was saying "the necklace is beautiful", and then she was driving off, all without him realizing it was happening. He kept expecting her to turn around and come back, laughing. She didn't. She pulled out and headed home. He trooped up to his room to pretend to himself to be watching TV until he fell asleep, thoroughly downcast.

She'd turned into a complete loon, Mouse was thinking. She'd turned into one of those wacky women she despised, the ones that don't know what they want, and want only what they can't have, until they can have it, and then they don't want it anymore. What was she doing?

She pulled over and considered going back. She almost did. But she really did have to think. She couldn't go back until she was sure she knew what she was doing, and why. He really did have warm eyes, she thought, just like Alicia had said. She couldn't go back until she was sure she wouldn't end up hurting him again.

<8 Penance

Mouse lay on her bed, trying to scream herself to climax. She had four fingers, slick with cum, frantically rammed deep inside herself, but they couldn't be Michael's cock, they couldn't get inside her anywhere near as deeply as he could. She had one hand, one tiny hand on her breast, pinching her nipple, but it felt nothing like his massive, powerful fingers and palm.

It had always been so easy. She'd done this thousands of times, for years and years. She imagined herself with her brother, and then brought herself easily to one, two, three orgasms or more. She could make it take a while, she'd take it slow, she'd work through one of her many intricate fantasies. He would touch her and kiss her, and she him, building, exploring, testing boundaries, crossing them, going further. And always, every time, Michael would make her come. Her brother, the simple image of her brother, could bring her to a complete and fulfilling orgasm every time.

She couldn't come.

He was right there, across town. She could have stayed with him. She was so stupid. She could have him now, he could be inside of her right now, she could kiss him, touch him, taste him, be with him. He could hold her, crush her, maul her, do whatever he wished. Anything he did would feel good. He could sit in the room and watch her, never laying a hand on her, and she knew she would come for him.

She couldn't come.

It was time to pull out the big guns. Mouse went to her walk-in closet, to the very back, to pull out the gown well wrapped in plastic. It was strapless, but otherwise too frilly and busy, made of a shimmering pastel green satin, with ruffles and crinkles and little tacked on fabric flowers and more. Mouse had had to make alterations to it every few years to make sure it still fit, but she looked every bit as childishly sexy and naively whorish as she had the first night she'd worn it, the only night she'd worn it in public, to her prom.

She pulled it on in a moment, then leaned into the back of the closet to pull out Michael the Fourth, one of several plastic affairs that she'd found that perfectly matched Michael's size and shape. This one used batteries.

Once on her back, in the dark, the fantasy played out as it usually did, as the night should have, Mouse thought. Her intended date had gotten sick (he hadn't). Her mother had called Michael to be an emergency date (she hadn't). He fiercely resisted (that, he would have) but gave in at the end (he never would have).

He showed up at her door wearing his best dark suit. She had just turned eighteen. He was twenty-nine then, far too old to be taking a teenage girl to her prom. He was also still single, and having a hard time meeting girls, even though Mouse thought he was the sexiest man alive. He still had a young man's physique. He played basketball and other sports a lot. Mouse rarely got to see him in a bathing suit, and hated that aspect of their lives, because she couldn't admire as much of his naked flesh as she wanted. Any chance of seeing him in the shower had long since been spoiled by her one, failed attempt.

The night went horribly, with each of them fighting tooth and nail at every turn, and her friends all consoling her about how awful it was that she had to come with her brother, who was a too old curmudgeon of a man none-the-less, and then he didn't even treat her well. Really he was, he was being a darling, but Mouse made it rough on him. Mouse started everything, then made it seem like his fault, just so he'd keep apologizing. It gave her a power over him.

But her friends, for all of their "you poor dear" comments about him, would have kept flirting with him like they always did. They'd act like they were going to save Mouse by seducing him, and taking him off of her hands. Their own dates would all get jealous, glaring impotently at Michael behind his back, or to his face. Mouse would have loved every moment.

Eventually, they would fight. A terse comment would turn into a simmering spat. The spat would turn into controlled anger. Anger would turn into cold, then hot, fury. They'd do battle, and she'd demand that he take her home early. He'd feel guilty then. He'd try to talk her into staying, even though it was the very last thing he wanted to do. She'd make him sweat, enjoying his pleas and his weak attempts at apologies, but in the end she'd make him take her out of there.

They'd keep fighting, and talking, and she'd tell him he couldn't take her home, because Mom would be furious at them both if they came home too early. So they would go somewhere to park, and to talk, which presumably meant to fight some more.

Seducing him then, that night, in that dress, would have been so easy, if she'd ever gotten the chance. His little sister would look at him with sad, lonely, questioning eyes. Her expression would ask him why was he doing this to her. Why didn't he care about her? She'd let one small tear run down her cheek, while bravely fighting to hold it back.

Eventually, in his guilt, he'd reach over to touch her temple, gently, tenderly. Mouse would rub her cheek ever so subtly against his hand. He'd leave it there. She'd close her eyes and rub it some more, then move to press her lips against his thumb. He wouldn't move, so she'd purse her lips into a kiss, one soft kiss. Then another, and another.

He'd freeze, of course. He'd have no idea what was happening, or how to deal with it. She'd take his hand, and bury her head in his shoulder. He'd hear her whimper, and put his arms around her, holding her close to console her. She could feel the warmth of his huge, strong hands on her bare shoulder, with the blazing heat of his chest against her face.

She could tip her head up then. She'd kiss his neck, gently, repeatedly, so lightly he wouldn't even be sure what was happening. Eventually he'd look down at her, and she'd hold his eyes with hers. With her eyes open, looking into his, she'd drift up, pushing their lips closer and closer. He'd freeze again. But it was what he wanted, too, what he'd always wanted, even if he didn't have the courage that she had.

Then they would kiss. In moments the passion would bubble up in both of them. He would hold her tightly, almost painfully, as he frantically pressed his lips against hers and she lost herself in him, surrendering to his mouth like the silly little girl she knew she was.

Mouse touched herself at the thought, but had to move the fantasy along. There was so much more to it. She'd thought it all out so carefully, envisioned every detail, but tonight, now, she was in a hurry.

She kissed him feverishly as he fucked her in the car. Both of them were still fully clothed, but she straddled him, with his cock inside her, and her dress flowing out over both of them. He had eagerly pulled the top of her dress down, exposing her tits, so she could feed them to him, one at a time, for her own enjoyment as well as his. He loved them, and took each one greedily into a wide, wet mouth, giving her untold waves of pleasure.

"That's it Michael. My little tittie's need to feel your hot mouth all over them. You've always wanted them, haven't you, you dirty boy. You've always stared at your little sister's titties, as soon as they started to grow, you started staring, and wanting a taste."

He would moan his reply into her, unable to release them, as his tongue pressed and twirled and raped her hard nipple.

"Suck my titties, Big Brother. Suck them hard, suck your baby sister's titties hard."

His cock felt so good. She wasn't a virgin, even then, but she'd certainly never had a cock like his. No one had a cock like his. Her brother's cock filled and reached inside her like no other. The bend, that wicked, delightful bend, touched and pressed spots in her that no one else ever had. At the same time, she could feel her clit rubbing against his skin, sending shivers through her.

"Oh, Michael. You're going to make me come. You're going to make your sweet little sister come. You took me to the prom, and now you're fucking me, fucking me to a sweet, fucking, prom slut orgasm."

Then he would release her tit to respond to her in his deep, serious voice, but with a tremble in it, because he wasn't in control. She'd never let him be in control.

"I love you, Mouse. Come for me. I want to be the one to make you come. Let your big brother make you come for him. Be my prom slut and come for me."

Mouse would grab his head by the hair... back then, he'd had hair... and push his head back to force her mouth hungrily against his.

This was it, this did it, this always did it. He kissed her, hard, and deeply and completely. He would forget everything but her mouth, while she gave herself to him totally and unreservedly. Meanwhile, she felt everything, his lips and teeth and tongue, the very slight gristle on his chin rubbing on hers, her nose pressing into his face, his hair in both of her hands. She felt his huge, marvelous palms, with fingers spread across her back, crushing her slight frame against his heavily starched shirt, with his silk tie gently pressing against one nipple.

And his cock, she felt his cock. More than anything, her brother Michael's cock filled and spread her. She was so tight, just a tight, innocent little girl at her prom, with a man, a huge, grown man of a brother, fucking her hard and deep, so that his cock felt like a great, hot spire of fleshy, living rock forcing its way up inside her. The orgasms would explode deep within and throughout her, tossing her about. She would frantically try to move, to thrash around, but her wonderful big brother would pin her in place, holding her to him, holding her tits against him and her mouth against his and her cunt firmly, harshly speared on his cock as she came for him, and he came into her.

The artificial cock, Michael the Fourth, was deep in Mouse now. One finger frantically rubbed at her clit, while the plastic cock wiggled and moved faster than even Michael ever could, desperately trying to reach all of the right spots, at the right times, at the right pace.

Mouse tried and tried, but it wasn't enough.

She couldn't come.

Mouse gave up in exhausted frustration, having brought herself almost to tears. She wiped her dripping fingers on the pillow, intending to punish herself by sleeping on the wet spot. She rolled over to stare vacantly at the clock. Three AM. She sat up, thinking she might call him, or just get dressed and drive over unannounced. She could apologize, and he would fuck her, and everything would be alright. He would make it alright.

She knew that was silly. They both had to work in just a few hours. Yet he was so close, and he would only be in Chicago for a while. In just over two days he'd be gone again.

Mouse fell to the bed again in frustration.

She was so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.