Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 02

She watched with entranced glee as a bead of pre-cum formed on the tip, just like the diamond star on his gift to her, her moon-mouse pendant. She stayed away from it, letting it grow, stroking him with her hand and only letting herself kiss and lick the sides of his cock. When she could wait no longer, she tasted it happily with her tongue.

That's your brother's cum, the thought came to her.

The room was mostly silent. Mouse listened to the sounds made by her own mouth. She purposely made wet slurping noises as she ran both lips along the side of the shaft. She listened to the sudden silence as she stopped and instead surrounded his cock head with her lips, sucking hard. She relished the slight pop it made as she released it.

She was gratified by occasional moans and short sharp breaths from above when she found a sweet spot, whenever she did anything that she wanted to remember to do again. Even the chair made an occasional creak, as if it jealously wanted to join in. Behind it all there was the occasional click of the computer mouse, as Michael, still reading, scrolled further ahead in the story.

Your brother's cock, came another intruding thought.

She explored him tirelessly. She started at the base, where his mass of pubic hair ended and the cock rose up, hairless but not quite smooth. Her lips felt the slight bumps of the veins along the sides as she travelled his length. She could feel it start to narrow, just a little, as she neared the head. There her tongue found the lip that marked the sudden change from shaft to head. The very tip of her tongue explored the crevasse there, taking that path around and back, side to side, like taking a pleasant stroll along a valley, again and again. She was pleased with the subdued moans that this particular hot, wet, touch drew from him.

You have to stop. The thought came unbidden, from somewhere inside her. It snapped at her like a whip.

She continued her journey, making love to his cock with her mouth.

You have to stop.

No, she flared. No, she loved this, she loved him, she thought. Her answer was cold and spiteful.

Not like this! it corrected, like a parent scolding a misbehaving child.

Yes, like this, she snarled back. She was intent on his cock, on sucking his cock. She loved him like this, she thought. She took his head hungrily into her mouth then, all the way to the base. She felt the sides of his cock spreading her lips as far as they would go, then farther still as he thickened further down his shaft. It stretched her mouth deliciously. She felt the cock head press against the back of her throat, then plunge beyond it.

He's your brother.

Yes, he is.

He's your brother, your flesh and blood.

Yes.

This is wrong.

The thoughts wouldn't stop.

This is incest.

But I love it.

Slut. It's wrong. You're nothing but a slut. You're nothing.

Self doubt stung her. She held the cock deep inside her mouth in defiance. Before she could counter or corral the thoughts, they continued.

Your father would be ashamed. He'd be repulsed. If he knew, if he saw, he'd turn away from you in disgust.

Tears began to well unexpectedly in Mouse's eyes. She partially released Michael's cock, letting it slip out a few inches.

Sucking you're brother's cock like a cheap whore. Imagine your father's face if he knew, if he saw.

The image appeared in her mind before she could fight it back. The guilt was overwhelming.

She suddenly pulled away to try to let his cock fall from her mouth. As the base of his cock head reached her lips she tightened them abruptly, at the last instant catching the crevasse she had explored with her tongue. This time her lips interlocked with the lip of his cock head. Her tongue rested against the very tip, right where she'd tasted his cum. She tasted more.

She held him that way for one precious moment longer. Tears stung her eyes in punishment. She reluctantly opened her mouth wide to finally release him.

His hands were suddenly on her head, in her hair, gripping her violently. Before he could fall out, he yanked her head forward, driving his cock back in.

No! the thought came. She held her head back, her neck and shoulders tightening, trying to get away as he began to force her back down with a violent, quick rhythm. She brought her hands up to his groin and pushed away, trying to overpower him. His cock stiffened and jerked. She knew with a sudden panic what was happening.

Not now!

Her mouth filled with cum, her brother's cum, hot, salty, syrupy, the blast slapping the roof of her mouth before gushing further, filling her. She held it in her mouth, trying not to swallow it, as he continued. He wouldn't release her. His cock continued to jerk, pumping out more and more cum, until she couldn't take any more.

She cried.

Her mouth was full of cock and cum. She opened her lips slightly, instinctively as she started to gag. Rivers of his cum flowed out the corners of her mouth, running down the sides of his cock, dripping onto her designer top and sticking to loose strands of her hair. The tears came faster now. She felt one drip down her cheek to join the cum on her chin.

She pushed him hard. She pulled herself away as hard as she could. He released her abruptly, and in that sudden loss of balance his cock left her, leaving only his seed in her mouth, everywhere in her mouth. Her brother's cock jerked again and the last drops of cum hit her in the face, mixing with her tears.

She stayed there, on her knees, for quite a while, not thinking, lost and tiny and alone in an overwhelming storm emotions. In time, she didn't know how long, her composure returned. Her eyes opened.

She looked at his cock, now lying, thick and glistening, half erect, flopped against his hairy thigh. She studied it with an odd detachment, as if she had just awoken to find it there. She saw now all of the features she had explored with it in her mouth. She eyed the pale color and thick, sugary texture of his cum. She still held it, she realized, she still held his cum in her mouth. She moved it around there, playing it over her tongue, then swallowed it in two gulps.

She closed her eyes. She leaned forward to press her face against his bare thigh, opposite his cock. Her face was wet with tears and cum. She stayed there a moment, then surrendered to her desires again, switching to the other side, where his cock would press against her cheek. The cum was slick, so the shaft slipped frustratingly away, escaping her.

She quickly grabbed it with one hand to hold it close. She moved it across her chin, then her cheek and nose. She planted a gentle kiss on its base, then flicked her tongue across it, gathering up more cum.

Finally, she sat back on her haunches, still holding it in her hand. She opened her eyes to look at it again.

My brother's magnificent cock, she thought. Magnificent cock. Brother's cock. Wicked cock. Forbidden cock.

Stopping her thoughts, avoiding her guilt, she vacantly climbed out from under the desk. Trying not to appear too hurried, she calmly picked up her glass of wine to take a sip. She set it back down. Ashamed to look at him, to look in his eyes or his face. Without a word she hastened away into the hall and into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her.

Mouse stepped into the shower frantically, without undressing. The tears began to flow again, and more freely. She turned the water and shower head on, both, letting it catch her without preparation. The water was instantly cold, smacking her in the head and hair, immediately drenching her clothes. She stood up into its blast, letting it sting her face, feeling the water running down her chin, neck and breasts. She felt it mixing with his cum and her tears, washing both away.

She was a mass of emotions. A raging, windswept sea. An angry fall day. A junk drawer. A pile of dirty laundry.

What was she doing?

She leaned on the wall of the shower to think, letting the water, now growing warmer, course in a river down her chest and back.

She did love him. She loved him. She loved having sex with him.

Say it right, she thought to herself.

She loved fucking him.

Say it.

She loved fucking her brother.

Her brother.

There was a knock on the door.

"You okay, Mouse?"

His voice thrummed through her like a song. The tears came faster. A sob welled in her throat, held down by her last remnants of composure.

"Did I do anything, did I hurt you? Are you okay?" he asked. She could picture him leaning gently on the door, his forehead pressed against it.

Always looking out for little sister. Looking out for me. And she was torturing him, constantly.

"I'm all right, Michael. I just..." she paused.

"I just felt overwhelmed," she continued, wrestling the emotion out of her voice. "Girl stuff. You know. All emotional and shit. I just, I just need a moment. Let me get cleaned up, and I'll be out."

Michael didn't answer her. She heard him walk away from the door, back down the hall. A loneliness filled her as she felt the distance between them grow. And then she knew. It wasn't clear, yet, she didn't understand, but she knew. The feelings took more substance, became more solid.

She wanted him, only him. She had known this, of course, or thought she did, but before now, before this weekend, it was only a game. She wanted him, for a while, for sex. It was just fun, it was just the only way she'd found to really get pleasure out of sex, to get the most pleasure out of sex. Now she knew it was more than a game.

Everything else was there, everything else had to be dealt with, had to be handled, had to be mastered. Guilt. Shame. Fear. Secrecy. It wasn't going to go away.

But she wanted her brother, desperately, as much as she could get for as long as she could have him.

She wanted only him.

* * *

While Mouse was running the water, doing whatever in the bathroom, Michael sat back down at the computer. For a while he explored the site himself, then realized that Mouse had other bookmarks and perused those instead. He read the titles and opening lines, and sometimes scrolled down to pick out bits of text or dialogue, to get the feel of the stories she liked. They were mostly incest, some lesbian and group sex, and some other things, something called "non-consensual sex". The incest she'd bookmarked was primarily brother-sister, but he did notice some sister-sister stories, and quite a few father-daughter episodes. Quite a few.

He decided to take his spying a bit further, and looked at the computer's desktop. His eye quickly went to a folder tantalizingly and humorously named "Mouse Droppings".

Inside he was stunned to find a collection of stories and poems, all apparently written by Mouse. Many of them included characters, in name at least, that paralleled their family. He was sorely tempted to read the stories about him, but kept drifting to the one's involving their sister Melanie, or Mouse with their father. There were a lot of those, too.

He didn't have time to actually read anything. He wondered if he could sneak a peak later, or if there was a way that she would share these openly with him. She hadn't yet, and he felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over him for his spying.

He was ready to close the mess of windows he'd opened when a single, small file caught his eye, one enticingly titled "Clouded Thoughts". It was much smaller than the others. He wondered if it might be a window into her soul, or at least the soul she had mysteriously shown him yesterday.

It was a poem, an unusual poem, with the words scattered helter skelter across the page in no particular order, and in varying sizes and shades of gray.

Michael opened one story and started to read it thoroughly. He heard Mouse exit the bathroom and move to her bedroom. After a short while he heard her tiny footsteps coming toward him down the hall. He hurriedly closed the windows he'd opened, hiding his act of spying before he could be caught.

* * *

Mouse stopped at the end of the hallway to watch her brother sitting at the computer. Michael frantically clicked the mouse to close a number of windows before she could see them. She hoped he'd seen everything. She had certainly given him enough time, and made it easy enough to find.

She could see him visibly tense as she stepped up behind him. She bit her lip in guilt. She placed her hands on each of his tight shoulders, lightly at first, then more firmly. She massaged them with her small, weak hands, inconsequentially, she was sure. She kissed the gleaming top of his bald head, then bent to nuzzle his cheek with hers, enjoying the scratch of his short stubble. She let him hear her give a low hum of comfort.

"You're back," he said softly.

She was such a shit, she thought. She was killing him.

"Yes," she answered. "I'm sorry. I wrecked things again. I panicked."

His head spun around, his eyes wide in confusion and denial. "How do you get that?" he asked. "That was amazing!" His eyes dropped to study her, clearly pleased and excited that she'd put on a sexy, sheer baby doll, one that hid absolutely nothing and unambiguously screamed a desire to be thoroughly fucked.

Mouse's face burst into a pleased smile at his compliment. He'd said it was amazing. Of course it was, the old self-confident Mouse told her. She quickly spun him around to plop into his lap and bury her head on his chest, hiding any thoughts of guilt that might have been written all over her face.

He doesn't know much, she thought to herself. He was too overwhelmed to notice, or to figure it out. She completely fell apart, but he didn't know.

"I'm sorry, I just had to wash the top right away," she lied easily. Too easily, she thought, beating herself up yet again. "It's just, I just made that top myself, it was the first time I've ever worn it, and I didn't want it to be ruined. I hadn't intended to leave it on, but I got... lost in things. And I want to wear it for you again," she said, finally lifting her head to look him in the eye.

He had a twinkle in it. His eyes were so warm, she imagined she could actually feel it heating her face. Alicia was right. They were the warmest eyes she'd ever known.

"I'd like that," he said, and Mouse was happy.

She lifted herself from his lap. She walked seductively away from him, toward the bedroom. She used small, close steps, the kind that gave her ass cheeks a sweet little wiggle. She could feel his eyes on her back and ass. She knew they were there. The baby doll was short and sheer and really barely there at all. It exposed everything to him, everything that was his.

"Come on, big brother," she said without turning. "Little sister needs your cock in her."

* * *

Mouse was nearing climax. Michael was sweating from his exertions, pumping himself into her furiously, able to stay seemingly perpetually hard since the unbelievable orgasm with which he'd already emptied himself once into his sister's mouth.

The phone rang and the answering machine in the other room picked up. They could both hear it clearly despite their distractions.

"Hi, this is Mona. You know the drill," came Mouse's recorded voice.

"Hey, Mouse. It's Melanie," the voice of their older sister announced with a sing song cadence. After a pause to see if anyone would pick up, she continued. "I was just wondering if you and Michael were around. I heard he was staying over the weekend after he finished work, and I wanted to check in. If he's got you pinned to the floor, pummeling you, just remember it's your own fault for teasing someone bigger than you are. Talk to you later. Bye."

Mouse and Michael were both grinning by the time the message ended and she hung up.

"See, Melanie's right. It's your own fault for teasing your big brother," Michael said with an evil smile, ramming himself into her once with each word.

In reply, Mouse did nothing more than close her eyes, widen her smile, and grab his ass with her hands to help pull him into her.