Mouse Bk. 01 Ch. 01

All this time she had still not broken their gaze. Still they stood staring at each other. She did as she was being silently asked, or ordered, undoing the buckle, and the zipper. Slowly, but without hesitating, she reached in to hold him, first with one hand, then with both.

She was feeling the heat, the solid fire of her brother's cock in her hands. She moved her fingers slowly along it, exploring the sides, the base, the head. He felt her smear a large drop of pre-cum as she slid a thumb across the sensitive tip of his cock head. He sucked in a quick, sharp breath at the sensation, while watching her own excitement growing with his.

Finally she couldn't take it any more. She broke eye contact to look down, clearly hungry to see his cock in her hands. She pulled his pants partly down his hips. They both stared down for a long time, watching her fondle and play and explore.

With a start, she seemed to realize that she'd been lost in her own world, herself, her hands, and his cock. She looked up again to stare at him intently as she continued to hold and caress him. He closed his eyes now. He was lost in that world too, the world of his sister's hands on his own swollen cock. After a while he opened them to find her staring at him, again and still.

"You're finally quiet, Mouse? For once?" he asked gently. "Forever? Say something. Anything."

Still Mouse just stared at him. He sighed dramatically before kissing her again. This time her tongue came out readily to tangle with his. She kissed him back with all the force and passion and hunger that he had shown her. When she did so she unconsciously gripped him harder in her two hands, squeezing and tightening and pulling, pulling with the same rhythm as their mouths. The thrill of it shot through him, tearing at his consciousness.

His own hands reached down to the space between her legs, where he was pleasantly surprised to find he had been right. The covering chemise was lingerie, designed for easy access, to be separated at the slightest touch. He did so effortlessly. And he was right, too, about the miniskirt. It was far too short, and she had no panties. His first touch met with curls of pubic hair and soft, hot flesh.

He gently rubbed one finger against the moist, steaming crease of her pussy. He was startled at how wet she was. She inhaled sharply as he touched her. Michael pulled the miniskirt higher, hiking it up on her hips. He reached around to hold her adorable, nearly bare ass with both hands, and lifted her off of her feet.

He held her there a while, looking into her face, now level with his. For a moment he saw the sweet little girl he had grown up with. She was quiet, and a little fearful, looking admiringly and hopefully at her big brother like she once did. He couldn't believe he was doing this. This was insane. But the warmth of her pussy was now burning right above and against his cock. He was long past having any self-control.

Mouse was silent and unresisting as his powerful frame raised and held her crotch up above his hardened prick, itself arching up at her like the prow of a ship ready to plow through the waves. She helped by slipping her arms around his neck, reluctantly having released his cock, helping to balance herself as he eased her down onto him and entered her. A soft squeak escaped her mouth as he did so, followed by several more in a wonderfully musical rhythm.

He was shocked at how easily he slid in. His prick was thicker than most, even after accounting for his body's girth and stature. Mouse was so petite, so tiny in his arms. He knew she must be tight. He was afraid it would hurt her. Yet she was so amazingly wet, sizzling hot and wet, that he slid into her without resistance, her pussy expanding willingly for him, though still enveloping him tightly.

Right then he was overwhelmed with guilt, hit with the sudden shocking realization that he was fucking his little sister. His mind screamed "wrong, wrong, wrong," and "stop, stop now," but the blazing, drenching heat of her cunt over his cock silenced the voices, pushing them into the recesses of his mind as he filled her.

She became a storm of squeaks and squeals. She wriggled and moved, feeling him inside her, not resisting, not minding, not fighting him. She pulled her knees high, locking her ankles behind his back, resting them on his ass, opening herself wide for him while holding him tightly with her arms around his neck.

He looked over her shoulder at their reflection in the big bay window. They made quite an erotic couple, he a large, masculine ogre of a man, she a petite, curvy elf, both of them half dressed, locked together and rocking rhythmically in a wild, wicked dance.

After a while the initial shock of his entry subsided. She opened her eyes to stare into his again. He was frightened of what he would see there, of finding hate or fear or loathing in her eyes, but they were soft and penetrating and filled with a fire to match the heat that embraced his cock.

They stood there, entwined, balanced, fucking slowly and gently for a while, always staring into each other's eyes. She used one hand to undo his shirt buttons to play with the copious hair on his chest, the same hair she had earlier disparaged. She slid all five fingers through it once, then let her hands wander, twirling the longer strands around a single finger as he fucked her.

After a while, she reached up to slide his shirt back from his shoulders and off, immediately kissing his exposed neck and chest when she could. He used one hand to hold her body hard against him, always keeping the other under her ass to hold her up, to keep her afloat with himself inside of her.

His sister shuddered now and then, never coming, but never tiring. Between short, quick breaths she kissed him gently. She finally spoke, finally broke her frightening silence, whispering her secret, shameful desire to him.

"Take me to your bedroom, Michael. Take me to your room and nail me to your bed," she squealed through quickened breaths. Nothing, no words, had ever excited him so much in his life.

He moved one hand to get a firmer grip on her ass, by chance sliding it into the crack. As his finger brushed her anus she squealed again, more loudly now. She grabbed him more tightly, trembling in his arms. Taking the cue, he moved one finger down past her asshole to where his cock was already inside her.

Once his finger was slick with her dripping fluids he moved it back to her anus, slipping it smoothly inside her, filling her twice at once, cock and finger, pussy and ass. Her eyes widened as her squeals changed to moans, loud and utterly unrestrained. Her soft controlled whisper turned into a sudden plea.

"Now, Michael, nail me now, now, now," she repeated, begging, until her lips found him again to scurry wildly over his, raining hot, darting kisses across every bit of his mouth.

He carefully carried her to the stairs, climbing them with her still attached to him, riding him throughout his ascent. He drove his cock gently into her with every step up, a soft moan escaping her lips with each incidental stroke. He carried his little sister into his room, where he lowered her down to the bed, holding her ass tightly, never letting her cunt escape him. She gripped him tightly, too, making certain that he stayed inside her the whole time.

Once on her back she spread her legs wider, willingly offering everything to him. He was so much taller then she, her face would be smothered in his chest if he simply lay atop her, so he propped himself up on his hands, locking his arms. With his new found leverage, he could surrender to the burning urge to force himself faster and deeper into his baby sister, sinking her down into the bed with each savage thrust.

She moaned and begged, "Harder, Michael. I'm a slut. You know I'm a slut. You said I'm a slut. I need to be fucked harder. Fuck me harder."

Her dirty pleas excited him more. He grew wilder with each word, ramming himself into her as fast as he could, timing each stab with each filthy word she said. She stared into his eyes as he violated her brutally.

He startled both her and himself when the words "I love you, Mouse" slipped out. He froze in that moment, terrified of what she might say or do, certain that that was a mistake. She smiled up at him. In instinctive response to her smile he thrust into her again, as hard and as deeply as he could. She laughed and squealed at the sensation, virtually screaming back at him "I love you, too, Michael, I love you, too."

Still propped above her, looking down at her angelic heart-shaped face, he continued to move in and out of her, hard, hard, again and again, like the beat of a song. And with every beat her deliciously tiny lips repeated, over and over, "I love you, I love you, I love you".

After a while she pulled her face up to his, holding him tightly, kissing him deeply, greedily, wickedly. After the kiss she fell back to play with the hair on his chest again. He felt her pull her legs apart and up, bending her knees.

Her toes traced his skin, first along his back and then his sides. Next she gymnastically slipped her feet under his armpits to let her toes trace a path inward to his chest. He'd never seen a woman do this before, open herself to him while using her toes, like a contortionist, to play with his chest hair as he fucked her gently.

She expertly slid one toe up his neck, across his jaw to his lips. He took it into his mouth, sucking it softly. She smiled at him, moving more toes to his mouth, one by one, squealing, giggling and moaning to show her pleasure.

When she'd had enough, she moved her legs back behind him, locking them tightly, holding him inside her while he used his strength to keep sliding out and in, over and over. He lifted one hand from the bed, precariously balancing on the other as he drove himself into her.

He moved his free hand to gently cup one breast. The heat of it struck him, but not as much as the size. Her breasts had always seemed so large in her tight clothes, matched against her tiny frame. Yet in his own overlarge hands her tit felt tiny, lost in the breadth of his palm and his thick, clumsy fingers. She looked so fragile, so beautifully fragile.

He let her nipple slide between two fingers, beneath the fabric of her clothes, inward beyond his knuckles, then squeezed both the nipple and the flesh of her tit in his hand, first gently, then more firmly. Her sharp intake of breath told him how it felt for her. The touch shot a wave of something through him as well. He had been holding himself in check. He didn't know how he'd kept himself from coming for so long, but he was losing control now, losing himself in her.

"I love you," she whispered again, with a slight quiver in her voice.

Before he reached his limit, before he couldn't stop himself, he looked at her again, asking, "How do you love me?"

Her eyes opened and narrowed, taken off guard and brought to awareness by the question. They danced back and forth across his face, frantically trying to decide what he meant by it. He thrust himself hard into her again, pushing the smile back onto her face and the question momentarily out of her mind.

"How do you love me? As a lover or as a brother?" he asked softly. He shocked himself with the harsh, naked truth of it. He didn't know why he was asking, he wasn't sure what answer he wanted, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He had been afraid to mention who they were to each other. It had been right there in his mind the whole time, filling him with guilt. They were family. They were brother and sister. Big brother and little sister. He was fucking his sister.

He was absolutely terrified that putting it into words would jerk them both back to sober control and end their wild, shameful adventure. So why did he ask? Why did he ruin it?

Deep down, it felt important. Not important enough to stop. He continued to fill her, to push himself inside his little sister, even now, even after he had shattered the atmosphere of careening lust. But he'd asked the question, and waited for the answer he needed, whatever that might be, before he would come inside her.

The smile drained away from her face again, as he knew it would, but it was replaced not with fear or revulsion or guilt as he'd expected, but with an expression of thoughtful, hungry lust. She looked at him hard, for a long time, all the while her fingers tracing invisible lines across his chest and shoulders and then his neck and lips, and all the while with his cock continually moving in and out of her with a will of its own.

The rhythm of his penetrations slowed. He never stopped, but was gentler, giving her room to think, and maybe, please, to say what he wanted to hear, even if he didn't know himself what that was. Something that would fill his burning need, something that would let him come inside her.

"Both" she answered softly, to his delight. She hesitated, studying the chest hair she had wound around one finger. Then she looked into his eyes again to answer more forcefully. "I love you as a brother and I love your cock, and I love being your little sister and I love being your lover. And I love being fucked by you, by my brother."

He was shocked at her candor. She went far beyond the question he had asked. It was more than candor. She said it like she did everything, like she dressed, like she danced. It was like wearing lingerie in public, outside of your clothes. It was like dancing in public so that anyone watching felt seduced. Her words basically screamed "look at me, look what I'm doing, I want this and to hell with you, I'm wicked, I'm committing incest and I'm loving it and I want everyone to know and to see. I'm fucking my brother."

Passionate, wordless moments passed as they searched each other's eyes, trying to see each other's souls. She closed her eyes, moaning softly for him. Her hands traced a path along his back, and down to his ass, where she grabbed tightly, aggressively pulling him more deeply into her. "I love being your little sister whore," she growled.

Michael lost all control. He came at that moment, pouring himself into her, driving himself as far into her as he could, feeling his cum shoot even deeper. All the while she kept repeating "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck your sister, fuck your baby sister whore with your beautiful brother cock". They had both lost all control, all shame, all restraint, and were willingly long, long past the point of no return.