Dying to Fuck My Sister

I could feel his eyes feasting on me in the dim light; soaking in the unrestricted view of his sister's most private parts. I had no choice but to submit to the inspection, as if participating in some sort of sexual autopsy.

The thought of him staring at my body was almost more intimidating than when his hands had been all over me. I had wanted to avoid feeling like a hooker, robot, or nurse in this process, and somehow I had cast myself as a lifeless sex doll.

He put his hands on my bare ass.

They were tentative at first but grew bolder. Soon they were massaging and separating my ass cheeks.

The sensual assault of his fingers was relentless. If it was foreplay, it was like the overture to a Wagnerian Gesamtkunstwerk.

Strangest of all, I felt myself starting to get wet between the legs. And almost hoping for him to touch me down there, despite myself. Almost.

I began to organically writhe my hips to permit him greater access to the area he was caressing. I even moved the weight of my body onto my forearms, in order to lift my pelvis from the bed and push my ass further towards him.

What was happening to me?

He seemed to be in no hurry to get anywhere. I couldn't tell if he was holding back because he was unsure of how to proceed, or if he was simply content to savor what he was doing.

It didn't cross my mind he might be waiting to pounce.

Eventually his fingertips brushed past the outer petals of my labia. It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck my body. I knew I was dripping-wet and that my brother's fingers would be coated in the juice of my sex.

His hand returned to my pussy, gliding up and down; brushing past my clit. He dipped one of his fingers inside, letting it penetrate deeper with each thrust. Until he was finger-fucking me on the bed. Then he added a second finger, and making a gun-shape, began to fuck me with the pistol of his hand.

I was sticking my ass in the air, inviting him to probe my slick tunnel deeper, while he rubbed my clit with his pinkie, and pressed his thumb against my asshole.

Where had he learned this extraordinary deliciousness? Hadn't he never touched a pussy before?

If he'd learned this from a blue movie, they were more educational and interested in women's pleasure than I'd ever imagined.

But perhaps it was more like intuition. Maybe he knew his sister so well, he could sense how to touch me.

The light in the room was so meager that I couldn't see much more than his murky silhouette behind me. It was like my cunt was being fingered by a shadowy daemon.

Pretty soon my ass was voluntarily raised up to him like a dog, and I was using all my strength to actively fuck his fingers. I think I was making animal sounds too. I felt the rising spirals of an orgasm. They arrived at the top of my scalp, and began to spread through my body like an electric current.

My legs and torso tightened and my back grew erect; my arms tingled and my crotch began to vibrate. I felt like I was jumping off the edge of something - that first slip, followed by a loss of balance, then the surrender of falling.

My ass was still in the air but its weight now rested on his slick, fucking-fingers; my face submerged in the pillow, my hard tits squashed up against the bed.

I read somewhere that the closer a person gets to orgasm, the greater tolerance they have for sexual behavior that might otherwise feel gratuitous or taboo. I don't know if that was the best explanation for where my morals and resistance seemed to flee, but I was so turned on by this point - and so caught up in the momentum of my impending orgasm - I forgot to feel sickened by the idea it was my brother doing this to me.

As the rush of my climax arrived, it felt like the floor had given way and the only things preventing me from falling were my brother's fingers deep inside me.

Within a few seconds of the ecstasy subsiding, I started to feel a hot, wet spray of liquid across my ass and back. It was persistent and hit me in myriad spots simultaneously.

I realized, as if through a veil, my brother had taken his cock out and was cumming all over me.

He didn't make a sound; or say a word.

He got up and walked out the room, leaving me with the sound of the rain.

***

I must have fallen asleep again.

I felt disoriented when I awoke.

My brother's dried cum was crusting my ass, like reptilian skin. I went to the bathroom to wash it off. I couldn't believe the surface area he'd covered. In the mirror it looked like Spiderman had fucked me.

Had we got to second base?

I was supposed to be the one helping him lose his virginity; did this even count?

I'm not sure what new experience I had given him, apart from an opportunity to violently finger-bang his own sister until she came really hard. But from what I understood, most brothers died without getting that experience.

I dried myself and looked at my ass in the mirror.

I tried to picture it from the angle James would have seen it, and wondered if he liked what he saw. The dim-lighting would have been flattering so it can't have looked too bad.

I couldn't believe I was having such thoughts. I splashed some water on my face.

A few moments later I was spritzing two jets of Mom's expensive perfume onto my chest in order to smell nice for him - and then, spraying a third! As well as adding a dab of foundation to the bags under my eyes.

It was almost 8 PM by the time I ventured downstairs. The rain had diminished but strong winds were still assailing the old house.

A fire was glowing in the hearth.

The living room was candlelit and dark, and the table was set. My brother had made pasta for us.

It felt like we'd undergone a role reversal, that I had somehow become the tragic invalid and he my caregiver. But weirder still, it felt like I was the shy, inexperienced virgin and he my teacher.

Our conversation at the dinner table was stilted and awkward. It was hard to concentrate when I couldn't forget his firm hands on my waist, the sensation of his fingers sliding into my crack; and the warm, wet puddles of his cum, drowning my ass.

I struggled to converse. I couldn't find the tone in which I usually communicated with him. Our dynamic was like Beauty and The Beast.

"Everything alright?" he asked at one point.

I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Oh yes," I said, as if I'd been caught with my fingers in the cookies. "Excellent... It's delicious, by the way." I pointed at the food like an idiot.

And you're delicious too, I wanted to add.

I loved watching him suck the orange ropes of spaghetti into his mouth. How had I never noticed what sensual lips he had?

Once we'd finished eating, he insisted on loading the dishwasher while I sat on the couch with a glass of Chardonnay.

I couldn't work out why he wanted to take such good care of me. I wondered if he was play-acting a loving relationship. Perhaps he would have been this caring to all the girlfriends he'd never have.

I felt as sad for them as I did for him.

***

Later that night we were by the fire.

I was on the couch while James was on the floor petting Rogue, who was stretched out on the rug.

I felt like I was noticing things about my brother's body for the first time; the veins in his forearms, the size of his hands, his thick, masculine neck; the rounded contours of his glutes where his sweat pants had ridden down.

What was this feeling I had? Was it desire?

The human being that had once been my brother had been supplanted by another man; mysterious, intense, and alluring. How had I never noticed him before? I felt like Lois Lane figuring out Clark had been Superman all along.

And yet at the same time, somehow this new, beguiling version of James was still my beloved brother of 19 years. It wasn't him who had changed; it was my ability to see him.

After a while he stopped stroking Rogue's fur and turned his attention to me. He shuffled along the floor towards my legs.

In the shimmering firelight he began to smooth his hands up the inside of my calves; then began kissing my thighs, parting them ever wider with his fingers, and pulling me closer to the edge of the sofa cushion.

He lifted up the curtain of my long dress to reveal my lower body. I felt more self-conscious than I had earlier that night because he was facing me, in less-than darkness; and because I had never felt confident about my body.

But also because I liked him now and didn't want to disappoint.

His eyes were feeding on me as though the view itself were an elixir for something that ailed him. He had the concentration of a person diffusing an explosive device as he removed my little panties. One wrong movement, and the whole spell might be broken.

Then he sat there studying my pussy.

I didn't care how inappropriate or weird it was anymore. It was the hottest thing I'd ever experienced. So I sat there patiently, trying to pretend I wasn't trembling; my legs open, and my moist, pink little cunt on display for my brother.

He kissed his way to its outer lips on both sides, before circling back around; and finally licking the entrance itself, parting the soft folds of flesh with his tongue and gathering up the nectar within.

I gasped and instinctively gripped his head, clumps of his blonde hair in my fists as he greedily devoured me. He ate like it was his last (and first) supper.

Much like his finger-fucking from earlier that night, he had an unfathomably strange technique I could only attribute to his inexperience. And yet it felt amazing, as though I was guiding him myself.

Soon I was about to have my second massive orgasm of the day.

I grabbed his head at the ears to try and squeeze his tongue deeper into my cunt. And then I was cumming; like an inmate flailing around in a padded cell. He had to restrain my thighs to keep me from floating off like a balloon. My pussy shivered and pulsated against his erect tongue, as the tidal wave of orgasm overwhelmed me.

I was in such a state of blissful delirium, I didn't care any longer for my own cowardice or self-consciousness. I couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy.

And say his name.

I said his name!

The dog started going nuts at my howls of pleasure. James had to reassure her the world wasn't ending.

Mine felt like it was.

My vibrating body came to a slow standstill, like a wounded animal whose life force had finally succumbed to its prey.

I slumped back onto the sofa, my own cum dribbling from my cunt and down the crevice of my ass.

James pulled his sweater off and used a dry section to wipe the gloop from his face, and dab at the cum-stained couch.

He kissed me once on each of my knee caps.

Then he announced he had to make a phone call and went upstairs.

I lay in the second water-logged, rumpled heap of the day, while my brother abandoned me once again after having ravished me.

Had that been third base?

When was my brother losing his own virginities? So far this was him re-taking all of mine.

I hadn't touched his body yet.

He was upstairs for almost two hours, while I wandered around the living room waiting for him. I hadn't put my panties back on and spent most of the time playing with myself in anticipation of his return.

I saw Mom call at one point on the landline, while my fingers were knuckle-deep in my slit, and I simply ignored her. Not because I didn't know what to say this time, but because the only thing I could focus on, or wanted to focus on, was my aching little cunt.

After two hours I went upstairs and paced around not so subtly outside his door.

I couldn't hear him on the phone. I couldn't hear anything. And when I turned out the light in the hall, I saw there was no glow emanating from beneath his bedroom door.

I shouldn't have entered his private space, but I was in some kind of reverie by this point; a sexual ayahuasca trip. I didn't care much for concerns like privacy or respect. I pushed open his door and saw to my disappointment he was fast asleep on the bed.

I watched his sweet, sleeping face and ran my eyes over his body - his hips and the curve of his thigh; his elegant bare feet.

It didn't seem fair to wake him. Even though he'd done it to me earlier that night. My newfound desire would have to wait until the morning.

I put Rogue to bed and turned out the lights downstairs.

I took a quick shower - my third of the day - and climbed into bed.

My brother had been right.

The physical aversion I'd felt was not about repulsion.

It was about trespassing into gardens of the forbidden.

And now that I had jumped the fence, all I could think about was venturing further.

5

In the dream I could feel its arms around me.

I was lying on my side in a room much like the spare room in which I'd fallen asleep.

But the shadowy entity was back.

Its octopoid limbs were entwined around my body; exploring and massaging my hardening tits.

In the dream-logic, I understood the entity had returned to steal something irreplaceable from within me.

I felt one of its tentacles foraging between my legs.

Suddenly I awoke.

To my horror, the entity was still in bed with me.

I realized it was my brother.

I felt his hot breath on my neck. He was caressing me from behind.

He had returned to stake his claim on my helpless naked body. With a thrill I realized he was naked too, and his hard cock was jutting into my thigh.

He slid down my back, kissing each rung of the ladder of my spine, until he got to my ass. And then, with the tip of his tongue, he began to gently lick between my legs.

I settled into the delicious sensation of his tongue probing my hole, until I realized it wasn't my pussy he was licking, it was my asshole.

A host of thoughts flooded through my mind - that ass play was not part of the deal, that nobody had ever poked around down there before, not even me; and that I hadn't signed up for any edge play... But the words wouldn't come.

It was as if my body had won a tug of war with my conscience; gagging any protestation I might make; while the sublime physical sensation drowned out any fear.

I had never had my ass licked before. I had no idea how many pleasure receptors it contained. I would ordinarily have been grossed out by the idea, or found it perverse. But it was as though my brother had revealed a new sexual organ about my person; one that had miraculously appeared after 22 years.

His tongue felt as good rimming my ass as it had licking my pussy earlier that night. I don't know if it was the surprise or the deviancy, but it might have felt better.

Before long I could feel him squeeze one, and then two, of his fingers inside. He used them to stretch me apart in the gentlest way, increasing the circumference of the well, while permitting deeper access for his tongue.

He was a natural at it, once again.

I lost all sense of time and couldn't tell how long he was licking me, but I eventually felt the intrusion of a foreign object into the snug space he'd prepared. And I realized with an apprehensive thrill my brother was squeezing his cock into my tight little asshole.

What the actual fuck?

It was uncomfortable on the way in, but he seemed to intuit this and knew to play with my hyper-sensitive clit at the same time, keeping me in an orbit of pleasure.

By the time his full length was inside, the pain had vanished and my body was flush with sexual vibrations.

The next moment he was fucking my ass.

He kept me on my side, which allowed his hands to wander over my tits, ass and clit, while his thrusts grew more rapid and urgent. There wasn't much room for him to maneuver his cock inside my cramped hole, but he tried his best nonetheless.

Even the tiniest movement within me felt like he was about to tear my body apart. And yet, surprisingly quickly, the sensation began to feel natural and effortless, as if my ass and his cock had been expressly designed for this purpose.

I started to feel an orgasm bubbling up.

The illicit idea of being sodomized in the middle of the night by my brother-turned-predator was enough to tip me over the edge. Even if he hadn't been paying devout attention to my clit, I think I might have cum from the presence of his cock in my ass. I could hear his panting in my ear. He sounded like a rabid animal.

As the crest of my orgasm broke, it seemed to hand a baton to his own, and his thick cock began pulsing and filling my asshole with his sperm.

I felt like every part of me was cumming with him, from my toes to my fingertips.

Then he withdrew, and where I had felt warmth and comfort, now there was only damp and cold air. He slipped out from between the sheets, then disappeared from my room.

I wasn't sure if he was going to rinse off and return, but he didn't reappear.

For someone who'd claimed he wanted the experience of making love, he'd been doing a lot of hard, animalistic fucking. Was this what he'd learned from porn? Or was it my fault for banning the possibility of a more romantic approach?

It didn't matter anyway. Nothing he did could gross me out anymore. I wasn't just being seduced by him, I was being corrupted.

He knew his way around my body better than any previous lover. He touched me in ways I didn't know how to touch myself. Not bad for a guy with zero experience.

My biggest concern was that, by granting his dying wish, I had written my own body a death sentence. James had got to taste something he might never have tasted, but now so had I.

I would miss my brother the lover as much as I would miss him, my friend, my sibling; my heart.

If I hadn't lost so many fluids already that weekend, I probably would have cried.

But I fell back asleep, my brother's cum oozing from my asshole.

The next moment I was back in the dream.

I was floating above the house and the ocean, drifting through a stormless night sky, towards a midnight-blue sea of stars.

In the dream I had died, or my brother had. And I was going to meet him.

I didn't care what I was leaving behind.

All that mattered was him.

The only place I wanted to be was with him.

***

The next morning when I awoke it could have been dawn or dusk, or delirium.

The light in the room explained little anymore.

I was jet lagged from the past two days.

They were like a haze; some sort of whirlwind phantasmagoria in which I'd ended up being surprise-fucked in the ass by my brother in the middle of the night, and loving it.

I think I had felt more in the last two days, physically and emotionally, than at any previous time in my life.

James's bedroom door was ajar but there was no sign of him in the bed.

I went downstairs to find him sat on the balcony, staring at the turbulent waves.

There was a brief respite from the storm. A canopy of sunlight had opened in the vault of the sky, but it was cold and the clouds looked more portentous than ever.

I opened the door to the French windows and asked him if he needed anything. I was too nervous as always to cross the line onto the balcony itself.

"Is everything ok?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"What's up?"

"I'm dying," he said, smiling.

I frowned.

"Can't blame me for trying to lighten the mood," he said. "Come out!"

"You know I can't," I said. "My vertigo."

"One small step for man..." he said.

"One leap too far for me."

"Where's your courage?" he asked.

"'I'm not as brave as you."

"I'm more of a coward than you know," he said, turning back to the sea.

"I don't know anyone who could handle this so well. Especially a guy of your age."

"I cry myself to sleep," he said. "I want to burn everything down. I've become a cynical jerk. Having 30 days to live isn't great for your optimism."