tagIncest/TabooLaundry Day

Laundry Day


"... so I might have to ask my boss for a lift," Ian moaned.

"That sucks," I replied vaguely. I hadn't really been listening. I stole another glance at the clock on the wall as I took another bite of the piece of toast I had been nibbling at for the past ten minutes. Eight twenty-six. Come on.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go," Ian said as he downed the last of his coffee. "Don't forget, it's your turn to do laundry this week, sis."

"Yeah, I'm not the one who always forgets," I called after my brother, but he was already out the door.

As soon as I heard his footsteps receding down the stairs, I dropped the rest of my half-eaten toast and made for the bathroom through my bedroom. The apartment our aunt had found and rented for us in town after Mom and Dad died was quite small, with only two rooms and an adjoining bathroom between them, but neither of us had really cared. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but it just felt good be away from concerned relatives.

The laundry basket we shared was about three-quarters full. I reached into it and fished a pair of boxer shorts off near the top of the pile. There was, as always, a telltale drying stain at the front. Bringing the soiled boxers to my face, I breathed in the heady smell of my brother's cum. The alkaline tang made my breath catch in my throat. Ever since I found out that my brother jacked off when he woke up every morning it had become almost a morning routine for me to use his cum-stained boxers as a masturbatory aid.

Ian had left later than usual today, and I had a class at ten. To be safe, I decided to load up the washing machine first. The wash-and-spin cycle took a little over an hour, which would give me ample time to cum and shower before taking the clothes out, loading in the delicates and going to my ten o'clock class.

An idea struck me as I was sifting through the laundry taking out the delicates. I picked up my brother's boxer shorts again. Why not? The morning air wafted against my nether lips as I quickly slipped out of my comfortable pajama shorts, and into the boxers. I usually just buried my face in the boxers as I got off, but the coolness of the still-damp stain as it rested against my lower belly felt for some reason even naughtier.

A familiar sense of shame washed over me at feeling lust towards my brother, but the vague sense of wrongness only made titillation more potent. I felt my pussy clenched with arousal, and almost on its own volition my hand had slid down under the elastic band of the boxers. I managed to stop myself before my fingers reached my clit. I should probably deal with the laundry first. I'd almost certainly have no time to take the first load of laundry out if I started pleasuring myself now.

Energized by the anticipation, I quickly sorted through and brought the delicates to the washing machine. There wasn't a proper laundry room in the small apartment, and the washing machine was just tucked into an unused corner of the kitchen. Ours was one of those old top-loading behemoths. It was probably older than I was, and it shook and clanged mightily every time.

I loaded the clothes into the washing machine absently, set the wash cycle and started it up. I barely registered the low hum of the washing machine starting its cycle, my mind already focused on the sensation of the fabric of my brother's boxers rippling lightly against my crotch. As I turned away there was a niggling feeling that I had forgotten something. I scowled at the washing machine for a moment before I remembered.

Damn. In my haste I had forgotten to put any washing powder in. I scanned the kitchen and realized that the washing powder was up on a high shelf above the washing machine. When it's my turn to do the laundry I always leave the box of washing powder on the top of the machine instead of back on the high shelf, but Ian always forgets that I am half a foot shorter than he is.

I leaned on tiptoe over the rumbling washing machine, trying to reach the shelf. I gasped as the corner of the vibrating washing machine slid under my crotch. The flash of pleasure that shot through me as it grazed my clit made my legs go a little weak, and I had to brace a hand on the machine to prevent myself from crumpling to the floor. The motion made the corner slide up over my clit again.

"Oh," I said. "Ohhh."

Experimentally I tiptoed again, at just the right height that my clit was pressed against the corner of the machine through the fabric of the boxers. As if it read my mind, at that very moment the washing machine began spinning faster, making the whole thing shake and hum more vigorously than before. The sensation on my clit of the vibrating metal through the wet cotton made me feel light-headed. I had wanted to take this slower, but the novelty of this exhilarating new method was rapidly pushing me over the brink. When I looked down I could see the damp stain that marked Ian's cum being subsumed by a growing dark patch of my own wetness. The thought of our juices mingling together-

"Oh." I flinched at the sound of Ian's voice behind me. The shock made me stumble sideways, and I grabbed onto the kitchen countertop for purchase.

"Oh god, Em, I'm so sorry," he said, quickly swinging the kitchen door close. Outside the door he paused. "Are those my boxers?"

"No," I lied, "I, um. Don't know what you mean." My denial was undercut by the husky quaver in my own voice.

I held my breath, waiting to see how he'd react, but he made no reply, though I could still see his shadow from under the door. There was a moment of awkward silence before I saw the shadow under the door move away and heard the door to his room click shut.

Oh, no. That snapped me out of my trance. I knew I had to handle this quickly, or it'd become weird between us. I desperately wanted to avoid that.

I knocked tentatively on the door of his room, and when there was no response I opened it. He was having a smoke by his window, resolutely avoiding meeting my eye. With his shirt-and-tie he made a dashing silhouette against the window, I noted guiltily. It might have been the heightened state of arousal I was in, but I felt a rush of desire just then.

I shook myself. Get a grip, Em.

"I thought. I thought you stopped smoking."

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Well, we all have secret vices."

An awkward pause. "Ian, I wasn't- "

"Em! Stop. I don't want to know, alright." He took a deep drag of his cigarette, looking out his window. He had a look on his face that I wasn't sure what to make of.

I milled at his door, unsure how to proceed. "I didn't know you were going to come back home, alright?"

He seemed to make a decision as he put out his cigarette on the window frame. The corner of his mouth tugged into his stupid lopsided grin, which I knew was his conciliatory grin. "I forgot my cigarettes," he said with a self-effacing shrug. "That's why I came back. Can we agree never to talk ab- um."

He stopped in mid-movement when he turned towards me. His wide eyes were matched by his suddenly flaring nostrils. I followed the direction of his gaze downwards, but with a sinking feeling I realized why before I saw it. Shit. I was still wearing his boxers, the crotch still glistening darkly with an unmistakable wet patch.

I was extremely mortified, and for a moment I was paralysed by indecision. After what seemed like an awkward eternity, Ian moved first, grabbing his keys and avoiding my eye. When he passed me by the door the odor of cigarettes and the underlying clean pine smell of the body wash he used was overwhelming, making my belly lurch with liquid heat. Seizing on the impulse of the moment I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Before I had time for second thoughts, he reciprocated and in a flash we were in each other's arms and his tongue was in my mouth-

"Wait." He tore his face away from mine. "We can't-"

Ian's hesitation gave me pause as well. I had fantasized about my brother ever since I became sexually aware, but this was crossing an entirely different threshold. It was this thought, and maybe the insistent tingle in my crotch, that spurred me onwards.

Swallowing nervously, I lowered my hands across the small of his back to clutch his buttocks. "Let me- let me take care of you," I said, putting as much sultriness in my voice as I knew how to. With trembling hands I undid his belt and the button of his trousers. His scent was intoxicating - sexy but also comforting at the same time. I pulled down the zip to reveal the bulge of his cock straining against the boxers, the same cut as the one I was currently wearing. His manhood twitched and grew visibly as I rubbed my hand up and down against the shaft through the plain dark cotton. When I looked up again at his face I saw the lust and confusion I felt mirrored in his face, though he made no move to push me away.

I dropped to my knees on the living room floor. With my heart in my throat I slid my fingers under the waistband of his boxers and peeled it off his engorged cock. My tongue snaked out, giving the underside of his cock an experimental lick. His entire body shuddered and his cock twitched, the circumcised bulb bumping lightly onto the tip of my nose.

Ian gave a nervous chuckle and I couldn't help but grin up at him. Focusing again on his cock, I licked my lips and wrapped them around the head of his cock. With an exhaled 'ha', like he was surprised at the sensation, he seemed to shrink back reflexively, then his hip surged forward, propelling his shaft deeper into my mouth.

My brother groaned as I sucked on his cock. His cock was strangely velvety but hard at the same time. As I ran my tongue around the head there was a slightly bitter undertaste to it that reminded me of clean soap. For some reason that turned me on even more. I slid a hand under my pajama shorts and began to play with my clit. It didn't take long before my hand was sticky with pussy juices.

I began bobbing my head more vigorously, wrapping my free hand around the base of his shaft. He brought his hands from his sides to rest on my head, his thumb tracing little circles in my hair. It was an affectionate gesture I remembered from when he was much taller than I was.

Ian came a few seconds after I did, tensing up and spurting warm cum in my mouth as I moaned and shuddered around his cock. I swallowed instinctively, though the bitterness made me gag.

"I'm sorry! For, uh, finishing in your mouth," he said as I slumped back, licking my lips. When I looked up I saw that he had a sheepish frown on his face.

"It's fine," I said breathlessly, flush with pleasure. I grinned up at him. "You really should stop smoking."

"Okay, mother", or some other smart ass retort would usually be his response, but he just said "I'm late for work, I have to go," and almost fled the house, tucking his cock (still moist from my saliva) back into his pants as he made a beeline for the door.

"Dammit," I muttered to myself. I buried my face in my hands. What had I done?

The rest of the day was a blur. I found it hard to concentrate in class. I kept checking my phone, hoping that Ian had replied to my frantic message ("are we ok?"). My brother was the closest person in the world to me. My aunt took us in after our parents died, but she'd always kept us at arm's length. I don't blame her. She never got past the death of her sister, and seeing my mother's features in us every day must have been painful for her. And the other relatives treated us with kid gloves but our parents had never been close to them, and they had nothing to offer but condolences.

Throughout all that, my brother and I have had each other's backs. And this morning he couldn't even look me in the eye, after. Had fulfilling a fantasy I'd had since adolescence been worth the fallout? It was a self-loathing rhetorical question – but then I thought about the way his tongue tasted in my mouth; the heat of his body as he held me in his arms; the particular way he kneaded my scalp as I sucked his cock. Yes, the stubborn voice at the back of my head insisted.

Then came the shame. I knew, intellectually, that incest was wrong, so why was I so turned on by the thought? Thinking back, I'd always had some feelings for my brother. I remember hating his high school girlfriend. Though I didn't really know until we'd moved into this apartment, I accidentally found his porn folder, and found myself more aroused by knowing what he jerked off to than by the porn itself. And the shame was always lurking close behind the arousal, adding an indefinably delicious tinge to it.

It was in this haze of shame and uncertainty that I sleepwalked through my day. I was absently collecting laundry from the washing machine when I heard the front door open. I tensed up, and almost subconsciously I felt my pussy moisten.

"Hey sis, what's up?" he said casually when he saw me. "I ate with some other guys from work. You didn't ask so I didn't pack anything for you."

So we're pretending nothing happened. I shrugged mentally and turned back to the laundry. That was probably for the best. "No problem, I've eaten too," I said, as if I hadn't spent the entire day on a nervous edge. "I went down to the letterbox, you have-"

I faltered mid-sentence as I felt the sudden warmth of a body pressed against my back, not least the hard rod nestling between the top of my butt cheeks. I closed the lid of the machine and turned my upper body to look at him. I found my face barely an inch away from his. For a few moments, we felt our ragged breaths on each other's lips, and I was lost in his brown eyes, so like mine, seeing a tinny reflection of myself in the dark of his pupil.

"Rough day?" I said finally. I meant it light-heartedly but nervousness and arousal made it sound like a come on.

He leaned in to wrap my lips in his, and I melted in his arms. With urgent need I fumbled with the buckle of his pants, and they dropped them to his ankles. At the same time he was peeling off my shorts and panties. His unfettered, fully erect cock pressed into the valley of my butt crack, pushing my exposed crotch against the cold metal edge of the washing machine.

"We're doing this," I said breathlessly.

"We are," he said, with an urgent tone that brooked no argument. I turned my hips around to face him completely,

"Ian-" I began, but I felt him align his cock at the entrance of my virgin pussy. He hesitated for a final second, then pushed into me, his eyes staring into mine as he did. There was doubt, and confusion, but also a desire that mirrored my own. His shaft met little resistance as it slid into me, lubricated by my pussy juices.

The sensation of my brother's hard cock in my pussy took my breath away. It was different than what I'd imagined it to be like, but also strangely... right. He thrust into me again, lifting me backwards and off my feet so that I sat partially on the machine. I screamed at the exquisite pleasure, and threw my arms around his neck.

"I've always loved you, sis," he whispered breathily into my ear as he pumped into me, "I just hadn't realized-" he inhaled sharply as I wrapped my legs around his taut butt and pulled him deeper into me.

"-that I wanted you too?"

He laughed breathlessly, his five o' clock shadow rasping against my neck as he nuzzled it. I couldn't help but laugh too, though it came out half a sob as waves of pleasure wracked my body.

I don't know if we made love on that washing machine for five minutes or an hour. Everything else seemed to fall away as we fucked each other senseless, two halves of a whole that fit perfectly together.

I felt my orgasm approach with gathering speed like a great tsunami, and then I came so hard that stars burst in my vision. I realized that I'd been biting on Ian's shoulder, but he didn't seem to mind. His thrusts sped up, until he was practically pistoning into me, and suddenly I felt his buttocks clench up under my legs. I realized only belatedly what was happening. "Ian, pull out!"

He flinched, but it was too late, and I felt him spurt his warm seed in me with a few final thrusts. I rested my forehead on his as we panted, flushed with both the exertion and the afterglow of an intense orgasm.

"I'm sorry," he said, but his chuckle told me otherwise. I laughed breathlessly and kissed him again. "Stop apologizing." I rested my head against my brother's chest, listening to his heartbeat. I felt the familiar stirrings of shame in the periphery of my consciousness. We had a lot of talking and figuring out ahead of us, about our feelings, if we were going even to do it again, and what this meant for our relationship.

But for now, none of that mattered at all.

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