Never Too Late for Love

This story is based on a chat I've been having for about a month with a very sexy fellow Literotica author. She has shared her story with me, one that she wrote about and published herself and her brother. There's always more to a story, so they say.

I can't say this story matches all she's told me. Bits and pieces are real, but I'll never tell which bits or pieces. I have embellished her story and have had some fun.

All sexual activity is between adults 18 years and older. Please rate and comment at the end.

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Chapter 1
DENVER -- THREE YEARS PRIOR

We stood in the open doorway, facing each other, our noses nearly touching. No words were spoken. No words were necessary. Whatever happened in the next thirty seconds would be life-defining. Love burned in our hearts. Passion burned in our eyes. Lust burned in our souls.

His lips were suddenly on mine. His kiss was urgent and full of promise. I parted my lips and ran my tongue across his. His mouth opened, and our tongues lightly touched. I pushed my tongue a little further and gave his tongue a wet massage. His mouth fully opened as he thrust his tongue forcefully to the back of my throat.

We both reached together; him for my breasts, me for his cock. As he pushed his hand into my breasts, he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me harder against his mouth. Our breathing became more and more ragged as we both understood what we were doing and where this could lead.

His cock was rock solid as I massaged it through his jeans. He moaned into my mouth as he moved his hand down to my belt, then pushed under and into my panties. His rough fingers scraped across my clit, making me weak in the knees. He held me up and kissed me harder.

I've never wanted anyone more than I wanted him. I fancied for him to rip my clothes off, take me down, ravish my body, and fuck me like there was no tomorrow.

But there would be tomorrow.

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NEW YORK CITY -- PRESENT DAY

I was finally feeling at home in the new city. Growing up in middle America farm country, I've felt out of place in New York City for three years. My co-workers have left me feeling empty and alone as I have attempted to navigate the financial wonderland of Wall Street.

I thought my life would be more fulfilling as a career woman in New York. I was swimming with the sharks and, although I've resisted, I have become one myself. As I looked back on the prior three years and that last kiss, I realized I needed a change. As a woman in her mid-forties, that's not an easy thought, let alone an easy choice.

I started hanging out at a club just a few minute's walk from my apartment to make new friends. I've been a regular for the last year or so. When my birthday was coming up, I announced I would have a party, and everyone was invited to my apartment.

I thought about spending a lavish amount of money on booze and catering. In the end, these weren't Wall Street types. These were every-day Joes who would rather discuss their favorite sports teams over a beer and chips. I stocked up and eagerly waited for the day to arrive.

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I arrived home from work and began preparing for the party. I changed from the uptight business suit into a loose-fitting t-shirt and shorts, then busied myself picking up the clutter from the week. When I finished, I looked at the clock and still had forty-five minutes before guests would begin arriving. I decided to do myself a favor and take a hot shower to help me relax.

I moved to my room, slid the shorts off my legs, pulled the shirt over my head, and walked into the shower. Under the stream, I slid my hands across my belly then into my hair, lifting it to allow the water to penetrate to the roots. I started to feel relaxed and realized the sexual effect the cascading water was having on my entire body.

My mind wandered to a familiar place, a place that has haunted me, a place that has made my pussy leak with excitement. My mind sauntered to the open doorway of my last apartment in Denver, where he and I shared the briefest moment of unbridled passion and hope. Too brief. The place that had caused so much emotion; lust, anger, sadness, love, heartache, fear, happiness, guilt.

My pussy, as it always does, reacted to the memory. My nipples hardened as I replayed the kiss, the groping, the longing, the desire. I softly fondled my breasts and wondered if I would ever see him again. He knew where to find me. I sent him a letter soon after I moved into my New York City apartment. We call each other here and there. He knows where to find me.

I stepped out of the shower, more relaxed yet more frustrated. I toweled myself dry and got dressed for the party. My Wall Street "friends" would've demanded formal wear. These were my real friends, my pub buddies. I pulled another t-shirt over my head and pulled on a pair of jeans. I picked up my blow dryer and turned it on.

"Fuck it," I muttered and turned the dryer off. "You never let your hair down anymore."

I spritzed my favorite perfume, then put the blow dryer and all my makeup away.

"Real friends? Real me." I smiled at the unmade version of myself in the mirror. I haven't seen her for months.

For the next few minutes, I busied myself getting the snacks arranged on the table and making sure all the beer was cold and ready. Shortly after eight, I heard the first knock on the door. I opened the door and smiled at the small group waiting to come in. They each hugged me as they entered. I've learned to love these people, the same people I'd been required to look down on when I first moved in.

I stayed busy retrieving drinks and snacks. A few more knocks and the guests were answering the door as several more friends arrived. Soon there were over twenty friends in my apartment, laughing, joking, drinking, and eating. I sat in the middle of the couch between two men I've wanted to get to know better. MUCH BETTER. Another knock. Kathy, who was closest to the door, excused herself and went to the door.

"Hey everybody," Kathy yelled over the crowd as she reentered the room, "This is Thomas ... or as I like to call him, Tom," she giggled.

Her introduction elicited a roll of chuckling from the group. Neither Kathy nor anyone else knew this stranger. No one knew him. No one except ...

I was talking and laughing when Kathy announced Tom. I casually looked up to see who the late-arriving guest was. My heart stopped as I looked at the man -- the same man I thought I may never see again -- staring at me. My throat went dry, and I couldn't speak. I diverted my eyes. I couldn't look at him.

"Ye know all da blokes, aye lass?" Logan, our funny Scotsman piped in.

"Of course, I know him. If y'all'd ever paid attention, you'd know him too," Kathy defended herself.

"It's why we call her 'Chatty Kathy'," Sheila laughed. "She talks to everyone."

"Ne'r laid me eyes on da lad," Logan laughed. "But ye did, aye? Lookin for a wee bit o'trooble, are ye lassie?" He laughed thunderously, eliciting the same from the crowd. We rarely understood a word he said but his laugh was deadly infectious.

"He's new at the bar. Hangs out in the corner. Doesn't mingle much," Kathy explained. "He looked lonely, so I invited him to the party." She looked at me. "You don't mind, do ya?"

I was dumbstruck. I found my shoes and stared at them, hoping to change their color.

Tom looked at me as if nobody else existed. He didn't say hello, wave, or anything else. His gaze penetrated my entire soul as he stared at me. My mind went blank, my stomach flip-flopped, my legs turned to putty, and my pussy became a geyser as I tried to keep from looking back at him. I couldn't help myself as I tried to focus on the two men on either side of me, but I kept stealing glances back at Thomas.

He moved across the room and sat on the arm of the occupied La-Z-Boy. Sheila didn't mind. She tried to strike up a conversation with him, but he was entirely focused on me.

"ALEX!" I heard my name called loudly. Shaken out of my trance, I turned toward the voice. "Do you have more beer?" Brian asked, clearly annoyed.

"Oh, yeah, hang on," I stuttered and tried to gather my wits. "Excuse me, boys. Back in a jiff," I said to the men on the couch as I stood on wobbly legs and slowly made my way out of the room.

Clearly flustered, I entered the kitchen, opened the fridge, and stared blankly inside as I tried to remember what I was looking for. Beer! I pulled a six-pack out, sat it on the counter, and started to pull the first one out of the plastic rings. I felt hands on my hips. I looked over my shoulder to see Tom -- or Tobby as I've always called him -- not Toby but Tobby -- as in Tommy with Bs.

He twisted me around to face him. I nearly passed out when he leaned in and resumed the kiss, the kiss we started three years ago. Guilt swept through me. I wanted this kiss, but I was hosting a party. I felt an obligation to my guests -- at least that's what I told myself. I should've tried to fight him off. Instead, my friends in the next room disappeared from my mind as I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him back.

In near-perfect choreography, we replayed the kiss from three years before; we relived the moment. The only difference? This time I didn't reach for his cock. He used one hand to pull my face into the kiss, and as before, his other hand was groping my breasts. Although I didn't participate, I did nothing to stop him. I wanted him. I wanted to feel his naked body on mine, making love to me, fucking me.

The group's noise in the next room faded as his hand snaked down to my belt, under my panties, and onto my clit. That same rough hand began rubbing my wetness, sending jolts of lightning through my hyper-stimulated pussy.

When he pulled his hand out, I thought this would be the end again. I thought he'd kiss my cheek and walk out as he had before. My heart sank as sadness overtook me. As I felt the tears well up under my eyes, he began unbuckling my belt.

He unsnapped my jeans and slid the zipper down. He grabbed the waistband with both hands and tried pushing them down my ass. My jeans were too tight, and I found myself reaching down and helping him push them off my ass. I was hoping he would force them to the floor and take me, but he left them in place -- too high to fuck me, but low enough to give him better access for his fingers.

What if someone walks in looking for a beer? I wondered.

The noise in the next room brought me back to reality. But when his fingers again found my pussy, he used his other hand to guide me back into his kiss.

Fuck the beer.

I surrendered. His fingers were rough as they plowed through my slit over and over. I shivered through a small wave orgasm as he masterfully used light and heavy pressure on my clit.

I felt him penetrate me with one finger. Then two. He curled his fingers and stroked my g-spot. I moaned as another orgasm ripped through my body. Then another. He finger-fucked me for what seemed like several minutes. In truth, it was only three to four minutes. I don't know how many times I moaned my orgasms in his mouth.

He suddenly pulled his fingers out, brought them to our mouths, and we both tasted my cum on his fingers. I reached for his cock. He stopped me. He leaned in and kissed my cheek, then turned and walked away.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered to myself with a smile as his sexy ass disappeared.

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Chapter 2
GROWING UP -- MANY YEARS PRIOR

Thomas -- or Tobby, as I call him -- is my older brother. At forty-five, he's two years older than me. Our childhood was relatively normal, I think. We had a mom and a dad, pets, a farm to take care of. But all was not well in our family.

When I was ten, our parents went through a long, contentious divorce. Tobby and I were left to fend for ourselves on many occasions. He took good care of me, making sure I was fed, dressed in clean clothes for school, brushing my hair. It was very intimate, and we bonded in a "You and Me Against the World" way.

When Thomas left to go to college, I thought my life would end. Two years later, I was in college, and we rarely saw each other. I missed him and often wondered if I should've done some exploring, played show-and-tell, doctor, or simple touching before we went our different ways.

When we did see each other, the curiosity and attraction were always there, but never in the way of having a typical brother/sister relationship. We were still as close as ever, but we knew -- somehow, without ever saying it, we knew -- if we ever allowed ourselves to ... you know, we could ruin everything. We had unwritten -- but well understood -- rules to keep ourselves out of the tempter's snare.

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NEW YORK CITY -- PRESENT DAY

I watched as Tom walked away through the door leading to my friends.

Is he walking away again? I wondered as I had three years prior. Will I see him again? I smiled as something inside gave me comfort. I don't think he'll stray too far this time.

I pulled up my panties, then my jeans, refastening them. I started walking to rejoin my friends then remembered what brought me to the kitchen in the first place. I turned, pulled the remaining cans of beer from the plastic rings, and walked back to rejoin my friends.

Tom had reclaimed his spot on the arm of the La-Z-Boy. Sheila was now ignoring him. I handed a beer to Brian; he took it without acknowledgment. I sat the other beers on the table then sat between my two men again, men I no longer had any desire for.

I wasn't stealing glances at Tom any longer. I returned his stare, and the world disappeared. That stare could lead us down a road with no chance for return. I didn't care. He wouldn't be walking away this time. I would soon be fucking my brother. Seeing the definition of his hard cock through his jeans, I knew he was on the same page. I felt the juices leaking from my swollen, hungry cunt.

This damn party can't end soon enough, I thought, gazing around the room.

When I was inviting my friends, some had asked when it would end, and -- dummy me -- I'd told them it would end when the last guest was gone. A few of them were crazy enough to make it an all-night event. I fixed my gaze on my Tom, wishing for an idea to pop to give me an excuse to finish this thing. I had nothing. I couldn't use work as an excuse. When Wall Street closes for the weekend, the sidewalks are rolled up and put away until Monday morning.

My phone beeped and vibrated in my hand. I saw a text from an unknown number and opened it.

TEXT: "How's Aunt Florence?"

"Aunt Florence?" I said quietly but loud enough for those close to hear.

I was confused. I stared at the text, wondering who the hell Aunt Florence was. Then it hit me. I immediately looked at Tobby. He batted his eyes at me, then looked around at my friends and tilted his head toward the door -- An obvious "Get these people the hell outta here" look.

Aunt Florence is, as most women know, how women talk about their period around men. "Aunt Flo" is a monthly visitor. Tobby used Florence, instead of Flo, to be sure I didn't blurt something about Aunt Flo and embarrass myself. At least I was giving him enough credit to have thought it through. Meh. Probably not.

I held my phone up off my lap, drawing his eyes to the movement. I shook it. He nodded slightly, understanding my meaning.

I casually went back to the conversation I'd been having. A few minutes later, my phone rang. The ID was "Unknown Caller." Surprise, surprise.

"Hello," I answered. I then proceeded to have a conversation with myself.

"Speaking."

"Uncle Jeff?"

"WHEN? IS SHE OKAY?"

I stood up and moved to the kitchen, feigning my need for privacy.

"WHERE?" I asked loud enough for everyone to hear.

"OF COURSE! I'LL GET THERE AS SOON AS I CAN!" I said loudly.

I hung up and walked back in with my friends. I didn't need to say anything. They were already gathering their things.

"I'm really sorry, guys," I said in mock sincerity.

Tobby stood in the back of the room, waiting patiently. The others in front of him gathered their things to leave. I walked to the door and held it open as each of my friends stopped, hugged me, and wished my family member well.

Tobby was last in line and followed the crowd. He hugged me, nibbled my ear, then kissed my cheek.

"I hope all is well with Aunt Florence," he whispered in a tease.

He turned to walk out the door. I grabbed his arm, pulled him back in, and slammed the door closed. He swung around and faced me. I turned him further and pushed him against the wall, and held him there.

You're not going anywhere, I wanted to say. Neither of us had spoken a word other than him wishing Aunt Flo well. I wasn't about to break my silence. I glared into the eyes and hoped he could read my mind and understand.

Who's in charge this time, buddy boy? popped in my mind, increasing my desire, my need.

His head hit the wall as I leaned in, kissing him -- hard. I grabbed his hand, sternly shaking my head as he reached for my breasts. I took a firm grip of his cock. He jumped and groaned. I kissed him with all the pent-up passion burning inside my soul the prior three years as I tugged on his growing, semi-hard member.

I pulled away and looked down to see the bulge in his jeans. Without hesitating, I slowly lowered to my knees, hands sliding from his chest to his stomach, and stopped at his belt. I unbuckled it, unsnapped his jeans, then pulling all the buttons open. I pulled his jeans to his knees, tugged his boxers down enough to pull his cock out.

I looked up and smiled at him as my tongue lightly caressed his mostly hardened cock. My eyes were unwavering as I swirled my tongue around the head. He smiled back. I engulfed his cock. His smile disappeared as he tossed his head back and moaned.

I started sucking him slowly, then increasing the speed, then slowing again. I took his hardening tool down my throat a few times. It's easy when it's not rock hard.

He was fully erect very quickly. I sucked and stroked him like I was possessed by a succubus. I wanted to taste his cum; first, he must suffer.

As I sucked his cock, I ran my hand under his shirt to pinch and play with his nipples. His cock throbbed and jumped in my mouth. He threw his head back again, moaning his approval.

He bucked his hips, trying to fuck my face. He was getting close. I dove back down, feeling his cock in the back of my throat, his pubes tickling my nose. He thrust his hips faster and harder. I took his every push.

When I knew he was on the edge, about to nut, I backed away from his cock, gave him a mischievous smirk, pulled his boxers up, and stuffed his cock back inside. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I pulled his pants up, then having a little fun putting his monster away. I pulled the buttons together and snapped his pants up, then buckled his belt.

I stood and leaned in to kiss him again. The look on his face was priceless. He appeared amused, but not sure he should be amused. When I grabbed the doorknob, opened the door, and gestured him out, his appearance changed to bewilderment.

Unwillingly, he slowly stepped out then turned to face me. I smiled and pushed the door, appearing to close it. I grabbed my purse hanging on the inside of the door, then walked out with him, closing and locking the door behind me.

I smiled at him, slapped his cheek playfully, then turned and walked away.

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Chapter 3
DENVER -- THREE YEARS PRIOR