Mouse Bk. 07 Ch. 02

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Mouse grows up.
6.6k words
4.61
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8

Part 22 of the 23 part series

Updated 10/04/2022
Created 05/11/2008
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Rob_mDear
Rob_mDear
1,561 Followers

Book 7: Funeral for a Mouse

Chapter 2

This is the next to last chapter in Mouse's story.

The "Mouse" tales are a wild, erotic, incestuous, romantic fantasy. It's not meant to be entirely realistic, and it's not always meant to be arousing. The sex can be hot, while the events enveloping the sex acts can be wildly unrealistic, but the interactions are also meant, on some level, to be real. The real world feelings that make incest a difficult act to pursue, the guilt and reluctance and hesitation, often intrude on the otherwise shameless desires of the characters.

This next to last chapter is the end of a long, involved and complex series of events. Do not start here! You can start with any of the other books, although the first would obviously be best, but this chapter will be meaningless to you, and disappointing, if you don't understand and appreciate the characters.

So, if you are looking for an involved story and something intricate to chew on, while maybe getting a little bit hot and bothered, please go back and start from the beginning.

If you are looking for a raw, pleasing release through unrestrained, intensely sexual writing, then you should probably move on to something else. This story is likely to disappoint you.

— The Author

<8 Theory and Practice

Mouse luxuriated in the too hot shower, feeling the water massaging her neck, then running like never ending silk down the length of her body. Her eyes were closed, so her world was dark and formless. There was nothing but the feel of the water caressing her skin.

She turned to face the shower head. A thousand miniscule hands smacked into her flesh, peppering her with tiny slaps.

Before Kate, it was all theory. It was fun. It wasn't real, but the fact that it wasn't real didn't matter. It didn't slap her in the face like the water of the shower. It didn't fill her thoughts whenever she tried to empty her mind.

Now she couldn't escape it.

Without Kate, without Paul, it was just Mouse and her brother. It was sex like she'd never really dared to dream, as often as she'd tried. It was companionship she thought she'd never find. It was a soul mate that could protect her, and would protect her, like no other man. He was the only man she could or wanted to trust. He could take her, and do anything he wanted to her, because she knew he'd never, ever hurt her.

He could actually kiss her and fuck her until she forgot to eat, and died in his grasp, except that he'd never allow that to happen.

And she was ruining his life.

She turned the water off.

She couldn't let him go, because she loved him, more and in ways that no one else would ever understand.

She had to let him go, because to be happy, truly happy, he needed someone like Kate. He wasn't going to get a lot more chances in life. Maybe Kate was it, his one last, true shot at happiness. Maybe she was his last chance at a family, and a lover and companion that would be by his side as his body failed and his energy faded and just getting up in the morning became a chore that required someone else to live for to make it worth doing.

Mouse mindlessly dried herself with the towel.

Both, he had said. The memory hit her as if it had only just happened. She'd showered the next morning, the morning after her brother had finally kissed her and fucked her, after so many years of frustration and distance. She'd showered, and luxuriated in the water, while he slept late into the morning in the next room.

She remembered it clearly. She had showered, and she had relived the evening in her mind. She had relived every moment, every touch, every kiss. She had relived the excitement, and the fear, and the unbearable power of the way he took her, and pleasured her, and sated a need that had burned inside her for year after painful, longing year.

But above all else, she had relived his words, what he had said to her, and what he had asked her, in those fantastic moments before he had come inside her. He had asked, and she had answered, and her answer had pushed him over the edge, into a forbidden act of unrestrained passion that made him hers, and her his, forever.

She'd told him she loved him. He'd asked her how. As a brother, or as a lover?

She had answered him. She'd told him both. She loved him as a brother, and as a lover. She wanted both.

She had told him both.

It was the perfect answer, then, the only true, perfect answer. But it wasn't good enough anymore. She couldn't have both. You couldn't live on both sides of the line. Life had boundaries, and sometimes you could cheat and cross the line, but you had to pick one side, or the other. She had to choose.

If she loved him more as a lover, she had to keep him to herself, and make him as happy as she could, knowing all the time that he could have had more, and she'd deprived him of it.

If she loved him as a brother, she had to let him go. She had to end it, and lose him as a lover, and let him find his way with another woman, maybe, probably with Kate.

Both. Boundaries. Choices.

Mouse dropped the wet towel on the floor, knowing that she should hang it up. It would piss him off if she left it there.

She went to her room to get dressed.

<8 Foolishness

Mouse looked at the pill case. One a day, every day, at the same time of day, to prevent unwanted pregnancies. She looked at the four she was supposed to have taken already, the last four days. She reached out to take the one she was supposed to take today.

She closed the case and tossed it back into her suitcase.

Five days in a row, she thought, feeling foolish and stupid and knowing that was a big mistake.

<8 Beauty

Mouse went through her abbreviated wardrobe, the things she'd brought with her for this trip, and the things she always left here, at Michael's house, for convenience. She looked at tight dresses and skimpy miniskirts. She looked at lingerie, some frilly, some sheer, all sexy and too revealing. She looked at leotards and halter tops and leg warmers. She looked at black knee high leather boots with a matching bustier and leather cap.

Slut, she thought. She dressed like a fucking slut.

She rolled her eyes, then locked them on the ceiling, trying to calm her temper.

She dressed like a fucking slut.

Not this time. This was it. This would be the last. It would be the last time she ever fucked, no, made love to, her brother. It would be the last time she made love to her brother.

She wanted to be beautiful.

She liked being a slut, for him. She liked being his little sister slut whore. She screamed it to him, and to the world. She liked it. She did.

Now she wanted to be beautiful.

Mouse pulled out her cell phone to call Melanie, to bum a ride. They were going shopping.

Mouse was going to be beautiful, tonight, one last time, for Michael.

* * *

Michael stood just inside the door, looking through a stack of envelopes in his hand. Most of them he tossed into a small trash basket he kept by the door, just for that purpose. Junk mail never got beyond the threshold.

His tie was loosened, hanging crookedly over his chest like a crawling snake that had fallen asleep around his neck. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, too, as if he'd had a rough day, and a rougher commute home.

He hadn't looked up yet. Mouse waited patiently for him to notice her.

* * *

When he raised his eyes, she was standing still, on the top of the stairs, with just one foot lowered a step, as if she'd been descending, then frozen in the act. Even from there, her coal black eyes in her olive skinned face struck him immediately.

God, how he loved her eyes.

She didn't smile. Her expression was that of a calm, smoldering, child of a woman, like an innocent just learning that it was no longer what she wanted to be.

She wore a simple, long white shift, with prints of palm sized, pale, pastel flowers in reds and greens and blues and yellows. It hung mostly straight down, detouring only with the most pleasant and subtle of curves just where it met the spread of her hips. It stopped just below the knee, highlighting the wondrous arc and curl of her calves.

The dress itself was almost opaque, or perhaps simply almost sheer. With the hall light on behind her, shining through it, he could just make out the outline of her supple form, the trim narrowing of her waist above her hips, the pleasant V shape of her torso, and the slightly rounded edges of her small breasts.

Her long hair fell in curls down the front of her shoulders, ending just above the small, dark circles of her nipples just barely showing through the front of the dress, pleasantly and politely darkening the fabric to only hint at their presence. Michael's eyes drifted down, admiring the light that shone through from behind, highlighting the slight, desirable gap between her legs.

His cock twitched and grew at the sight of her.

She was so fucking beautiful, Michael thought. Her whole life she'd been beautiful.

* * *

When he'd looked at her for a long time, when she felt like she couldn't stand it anymore, Mouse descended the stairs. She kept her eyes locked on his, with her expression steady and calm. She fought the urge to simply run to him, like a little girl, to get to him as quickly as she could and simply jump up and throw her arms around him.

She wanted to be a woman for him now, not a girl.

He walked to meet her at the stairs. She stopped two stairs up, so that her eyes were almost level with his. He was only barely taller than her, standing there.

Her two hands drifted forward to his stomach, to snake a gentle, sinuous path up the front of his shirt, up his chest, up over his shoulders and behind his neck.

"Did you have a tough day?" she asked, her voice sweet, and breathless, and already too high pitched from her own growing excitement. She wanted to take it slow, but she didn't think she could.

He didn't answer. He tipped his head forward to kiss her. She leaned forward to meet him. Their lips met with a warm flood of soft intensity. She searched his lips, seeking out every part, making sure she didn't miss a spot, that she kissed every single part of them. In moments, his tongue pressed it's way into her mouth, and she took it hesitantly, avoiding it in her mouth, for a while.

It wouldn't do to kiss her brother too eagerly. Not yet.

She pulled away to stare into his eyes. She felt herself melting yet again. She tried not to think as she looked into them. She made herself simply be with him. She let herself melt as much as his eyes commanded her to.

Her eyes dropped to his waist, and below. The bulge of his excited cock, straining to reach her from within his suit pants, sent a shiver down her spine, and a warm wetness spreading through her pussy.

She felt herself sinking down, almost against her will. She settled onto her ass on the step, so that her head was level with his belt. She spread her legs in a very unladylike fashion, like the slut that she was and wanted to be, for him, really, letting the cool air enter her skirt and sooth the burning moisture that was building there.

Her eyes locked on his crotch as she placidly undid his belt and zipper. She could feel his eyes on her. She looked up at him briefly, letting him see the sin in her eyes, before dropping them back down to adore his cock as she released it from its prison.

It arched up before her, as she slid his pants and briefs down together in one smooth motion. She stared at the long, stiff, upward curving shaft and the bulbous, purplish pink head that had already given her so many hours of intense pleasure. She had spent so many fruitless years simply imagining it. She had now spent another long year owning it, cherishing it, and learning everything about it.

It was her brother's magnificent cock.

Her lips reached out to it. She looked up, into her brother's eyes, so that she could watch his expression as she tasted the silky smooth skin of his cock, and he could see the love in her eyes as she did it. His hand floated down to slip thick fingers into the curls of her hair. Her twirled it gently, in harmony with her, as she twirled her tongue over and around every inch of his tasty cock.

She closed her eyes, taking his hot pole in two small hands and pressing it to her cheek. She felt the searing heat of it against her skin, and the hard, unyielding stiffness it offered. Her cunt grew wetter at the thought of it inside of her. She rubbed it over her face, over her nose and chin and brow, over both cheeks, moving her head back and forth, purring contentedly at the idea of caressing and being caressed by her brother's cock.

She opened her smoldering eyes to look up at him, with his cock in her tiny grip, pressed firmly against the side of her nose. Keeping his cock in her hand, she rose up, to stand on the second step, and then up on the third.

One hand reached behind Michael's neck, where it dug into the flesh at the back, seeking purchase and support. She raised one leg to rest it on his hip, while guiding his cock towards her hungry cunt. He understood. With two hands he reached down and slipped her dress upward. She felt his warm, large hands smoothly, teasingly sliding up the sides of her thighs, lifting her hem, exposing his little sister's loving, waiting pussy to his raging cock.

She eased forward, as his hands cupped her ass, lifting her from the stair with scintillating strength. She stared into his eyes, and he into hers, as she guided his cock, and he lowered her onto it. Her hand left his cock to wrap around his neck with the other, steading her, holding her in place. Mouse, eyes wide, staring into his, sang with a soft soprano squeal as she felt the wide round head of his cock spread her cunt lips, then ease in to spread the interior of her cunt itself, filling her with hard, long, unending masculinity.

She felt her body stretching for him, expanding from the inside. She felt as if she were growing with him as he filled her. She settled completely onto his cock, taking the full length of it. Her hands pulled her closer to him, pulling herself into his chest, hugging him as tightly as she could. She felt her nails digging into his shoulder blades, almost ripping through his shirt. She knew it must hurt, but she had no control over them.

She screamed with lust and passion in a long, tortured wail that felt like it would never tail off.

Then he rocked her on his cock. Just as he had the very first time he'd fucked her, during their first, real, incestuous, forbidden fuck. His huge, magnificently strong hands spread to cover her ass, using their strength to lift her, and lower her, up and down on his cock, fucking her gently, repeatedly, mercilessly.

He continued for a long while, as Mouse felt her body responding to him, as it always did. She felt a torrid heat spread in waves through her skin and muscles. Her finger tips burned. Her toes burned. Her legs and arms felt like fire. Her hard nipples pressed into his chest, stabbing him, sending electric shocks of their own through her body to compete with the sensations of scorching heat.

He lowered her then to the stairs. He rested her ass on one step, then moved his hands to another, to provide support, as she lay back beneath the shelter of his massive chest. She spread her legs as she eased back, heedless of how uncomfortable her position was. All she knew was that his cock filled her and moved in her, fucking her slowly and wickedly and sensuously and perfectly.

She looked up into his eyes again.

"I love you," she said, then was silenced, eyes clenching shut, as he thrust into her.

His cock eased out slowly, and her eyes opened with its departure.

"I love you," she said, and the world went dark as she shut her eyes again, screaming loudly, with another penetrating, stretching thrust of his cock.

His cock eased out. She opened her eyes, looking down to see his prick, half inside her, joined with her, and a part of her. She looked into his eyes again, knowing her own were blazing with lust.

"I fucking love you," she said. He rammed into her, driving words and thoughts out of her mind with the teasing, wrenching, perfect feel of his cock.

With her eyes closed, and myriad pleasurable sensations and feelings all she was or could be aware of, his deep, melodic voice filled the silence.

"You're my fucking beautiful whore, Mouse, my beautiful little whore."

Mouse smiled at his words, and the thought. She was his little whore. She loved being his little whore. She always had and always wanted to be his little, incestuous whore.

"Do you know what a whore is?" he asked her in a soft growl.

"I'm a whore, your whore, your incestuous whore."

He thrust into her fast and hard, making her scream. He held himself inside of her, while her hands grabbed his bottom, holding him there too, with fingernails digging brutally into the hard, tense muscles of his ass. With his cock in her, spearing her, feeling as if it was ripping her apart, he continued.

"But do you know what makes you a whore?" he asked, then fought her, and won, pulling his cock partly out of her.

"Having your cock inside me," she answered. "Just having my big brother's wonderful, forbidden cock inside me makes me a whore."

He held his cock in place, with just the head inside of her now nearly empty cunt. Her body screamed for more. It screamed at her to get his cock inside her again, to feel it inside her again, and the scream came out of her mouth as a whimper.

"No," he said. "It's because you don't care how it makes you feel. You use your body to make your brother's cock feel good."

"It feels wonderful, it makes me feel wonderful."

He rammed it into her again, so that the last word turned into a horrific, agonized scream of pleasure. The scream continued, filling the house, echoing, as he held his cock all the way inside her. She screamed and screamed, and he held himself deeply inside her, pushing her mind to its limits with the pleasure of it.

"But you don't care how it feels to you," he said, when the scream had finally faded. "You only care about how it makes me feel. Your beautiful fucking little sister body makes my cock feel like nothing else in the world, and that's all you want, to make your brother's cock feel good."

She smiled, with her eyes clenched shut. He was right. He was so right. It felt good, it felt so good, but what she loved, what she always wanted, was to make him feel that way. If he felt that way now, if her tight, burning cunt wrapped around his cock made him feel this way, too, it was all that she wanted. She didn't need anything for herself. She wanted him to feel incomparable pleasure from her body.

He pulled out quickly, then thrust back into her, earning another piercing scream.

"You're here, beneath me, legs spread for me, you take me inside you, only to make me feel good."

He pulled out again, then plunged right back in. She screamed again, her voice rising an octave higher than she thought it could.

"You live to make my cock feel good. You exist to make my cock feel good."

"Yes..."

He hammered her then, as soon as she'd tried to speak, over and over, drawing a rapid fire series of yelps from her tortured throat. Her eyes flew wide, to stare sightlessly up at the ceiling. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head with the pleasure of it.

"You spread your little sister legs wide to take my cock into you, to make your brother's cock feel good."

"Yes..."

He fucked her hard and fast.

"No other woman in the world can do what you do. Your fucking cunt grabs and seizes and owns your brother's cock like no other fucking beautiful whore's body ever could."

He filled her with wild, animal thrusts and wild, incestuous big brother cock, while his deep harmonic voice filled her ears with incestuous thoughts. Her legs wrapped around him, encircling his ass. Her ankles crossed, locking together, trying to hold tightly to his bucking, seething, bestial body.

Rob_mDear
Rob_mDear
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