The Things You Make Me Feel Ch. 01

She loved feeling his mass carefully resting on top of her as he was swiftly gliding in and out of her. She loved the feeling of danger, knowing that he could crush her fragile build with his bulky one if he chose to. She loved feeling his broad hips rolling between her slender legs as he was filling her.

"Yeah, baby," she moaned, "fuck me like that..."

While abusing her clit with the showerhead, her middle finger pumped in her hole, splattering about the savory juices. Ellie loved snuffing herself, and she loved it even more that she was able to make such a mess in her cunt. Just watching those spatters flying out of her could make her come like a river.

"Oh, fuck... oh, yeah... yeah... yeah, fuck my pussy." Slotting in a second finger, she groaned, the pleasure tightening in her core. "God, I love my smell."

She kept thrusting her fingers up her sex before she plucked them out and smeared her excitement all over her fatty lips. She rubbed her clit while pressing the showerhead to her hole, loving to experiment with different masturbation techniques. Her little marble was flushed and stimulated, and the strong currents of water were taking care of the rest of her sensitive parts.

"I'm gonna come so hard..."

Her beautiful toes wriggled on the tub walls when she felt the oh-so-welcome tingling sensation shooting through her. In one graceful wave, she arched her back and then her neck, breasts heaving, ribs pressing to the surface of her rosy skin. Still arched and straining, she ran her fingertips up her hourglass frame, up her small waist, her ribcage, before mounting her ample bosom.

The base of her fingers crossed her nipple, stiffening it up, the tip so rigid now against her gentle touch. One after the other, her fingers skimmed the rubbery stub as it continued to distend with blood. With the showerhead mashed to her little slit, she whimpered again and again as she pinched and tugged at the erection that dotted her massive titty, so pink, so hard, so sensitive, so incredibly orgasmic...

She splayed a hand across her breast and squeezed, grasping so covetously, loving how her boob welled up in her grip. She kneaded at her maternal swell, moaning as her clit grew so aroused from the laser-like currents, making her restless, desperate. Her legs parted some more almost of their own volition while her buff lover was on top of her, thrusting, feeding her hot little pussy his straining manhood.

"Ohhh... ohhh... ohhh... ohhh..."

Ellie moaned over and over, arching her body beneath him, letting him, taking him, pressing her bosom to his pecs, as he drilled his dick into her again and again. She pulled him down to her by the scruff of his neck and sucked, licking across his throat, kissing all the spots that made boys go crazy, as he slid in and out of her sopping sex.

She raised her pelvis, longing for depth, to be filled to the brim, while crushing her sensitive nipple between the tips of her finger and thumb. A mad whimper burst out of her throat when her nipple couldn't take the abuse anymore. It was too erect, too engorged, poking her lover's vastly smaller one. She caressed her side again, trailing her fingertips down her ribs, following the sensual curve of her waist, lingering on her pelvis bone that protruded so erotically.

Ellie was gasping, legs trembling, head shaking from side to side. Her pussy was on fire. She was crying out her moans while massaging her breast. She slotted her fingers in her cleft and thrust repeatedly before she again twirled the pink flesh at the center of her tit. The fast currents targeted her vaginal nub, setting off multiple shudders through her, as this blue-eyed hot blonde was taking the final steps toward rapture.

"Ohhh... ohhh... ohhh..." She pulled at her nipple, loving how large and meaty it was, before she whimpered in sensuous pleasure when she made it as hard as an ice pick. "It feels so fucking good... I can't believe how good you feel, baby."

She pressed the massive showerhead to her clit and bucked, humping it to her best ability, while her fiancé was ramming into her pussy with his athletic, chiseled build. His defined six-pack was pressing her down and—

"Wait a second." Her blue eyes shot open abruptly, fraught with dread. "Jason doesn't have an athletic build or a particularly defined six-pack..." She stroked her hair back, her insides wrenching. "Shit!"

Ellie set aside her beloved showerhead as she mourned the realization that it was her brother who was fucking her for the better part of her fantasy. She was still panting, her skin rosy and warm. Her needy clit was gagging for the abuse, and her orgasm—that was seconds from materializing—still held strong, jerking in her slender legs.

Ellie wanted nothing more than to bring to fruition this wonderful come that was undoubtedly in the making, but she couldn't force Jason back in her head. Oliver's face was now as clear as a bright moon on pitch-black skies.

"Could I do it? Could I actually come to my brother?" she questioned herself. "It would be crossing a line that should never be crossed; moreover, I'd be admitting that everything I have been feeling is really happening, and surely, that is not the case here. I don't have feelings for my brother. It's absurd." She dug her finger within her wet slit as she contemplated her morality. "It really boils down to one thing: am I sick enough to see this through?"

***

Ellie stared at her phone the next day as it rested on the coffee table, debating. Minutes later, she walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice before she resumed staring at her phone. She emptied her glass with small sips as she battled herself. Eventually, she jerked a hand for it and tapped on it with a defeated sigh.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was thinking of checking out some floral arrangements for the wedding, in my lonesome, when I then remembered that a certain someone offered his help."

"Indeed I did."

"Great. Pick you up in twenty?"

"Um..."

"Is there a problem? Because if—"

"No! No problem. But we will get back before dinner, won't we?"

"Oliver, it's 10 o'clock. I think it's safe to say we'll be long done by then."

***

"And here we have one of my favorites," a jaunty middle-aged woman said. "This is a mix of roses, gerbera daisies, bells of Ireland, spruce, and bupleurum. It's elegant yet fresh."

Ellie inspected the bouquet from various angles and breathed in the scent.

"I'll be right back," the florist said as she left to serve a customer.

"What do you think?" Ellie said.

"I like it."

"What do you like about it?"

"I like that it's fresh yet elegant."

She rolled her eyes with a smile, feigning exasperation. "Do you have any insight of your own? An original thought perhaps?"

"I think she summed it up quite nicely."

Ellie stifled a giggle and focused back on the arrangement. "Men..."

Oliver smiled and took a better look at the bouquet, as well. "When's the wedding?"

"January."

"Winter wedding?"

"A week after New Year's to be exact. Now help me decide. You promised to be helpful, don't forget."

"January..." he mused. "There's plenty of time then. We're only in August."

"And your point is...?"

"That there's no need to rush with the floral arrangements, but much more importantly, that I'm hungry, and that I want to stop being hungry."

They chuckled.

"Well"—she circled the bouquet—"that's unfortunate since we're not leaving without a clear winner."

Oliver shook his head. "Women..."

Ellie giggled. "Speaking of, why didn't you bring Michela along? I think she would have enjoyed herself here."

"I wanted to, but Mom vetoed it. She took a few days off work, so they could spend more time together, and she already made plans to show her off to friends of hers."

Ellie smiled, noting the sentimental glitter in Oliver's eyes. "You really love her, don't you?"

"She's my everything." He took out his phone and texted Alice whether all was well with his daughter. "Aren't you supposed to be at work? Or are you still under the weather?" He laughed at his quip and sniffed at the bouquet.

"How can I go to work in my condition? That's a nasty flu I have. I'd be hazardous to my precious colleagues."

They shared a hearty laugh before they considered the arrangement with greater degree of seriousness, as if they'd needed to decide whether to ship off their firstborn to a boarding school in Switzerland.

"I like... that it's colorful. It feels like a celebration of colors. It also smells terrific. I think that's your winner."

"Yeah? So you like it better than the tulips?"

"Much better. If it were my wedding, that would be my centerpiece."

Ellie studied his face as she rounded the arrangement. "You know, that really makes me wonder."

"What does?"

"What the centerpiece in your wedding looked like."

The look Ellie darted at him following that pointy remark was neither subtle nor friendly.

Oliver gulped and looked away, feigning interest in another arrangement close by, anything to escape her ill-boding gaze.

"I'm back," the florist said. "So, have you reached a decision?"

"Sadly, no. It's a toss-up between this one and the tulips."

"Both are excellent choices. You really can't go wrong with either."

"I know, but... I just want everything to be perfect."

"I know that feeling. After all, it is your day, isn't it?"

Ellie replied with her beautiful grin.

The florist motioned at Oliver. "What does your fiancé think?"

Oliver had drifted farther away from his sister, hoping it would encourage her to cool down, so he didn't catch that error.

Ellie was about to set the record straight, but something else suddenly sprang to mind. "What makes you think he's my fiancé? He might just be a friend or... my brother."

"Yeah, right," the florist dismissed with a giggle.

"No, seriously."

"With so much sexual tension? I don't think so." Gauging Ellie's reaction, confidence briskly seeped from the florist's cheerful face. "Unless I'm wrong of course, in which case, I deeply apologize."

Ellie's eyes followed her brother as he was sifting some more arrangements, the florist's words resounding in her head and seeding in her heart fear and—

"You think there's... sexual tension between us?"

"Now I'm afraid to answer that," the florist muttered, her face colored with embarrassment. "I have a strong feeling I blurted out the most inappropriate thing I could possi—"

"You're not wrong; he is my fiancé," Ellie cut her off, anxious for her question to be answered.

"Oh, thank god," the florist sighed, relieved she hadn't just put herself in an awkward position with a potential customer.

"So um... the tension?"

"Oh, definitely," the florist reassured, now feeling free to speak her mind. "I've been in this business long enough to sense those sorts of things. You managed to shake me there, but I knew I couldn't be wrong. It was obvious from the moment you stepped in. You're going to have one passionate marriage," she giggled.

"Yeah?" Ellie mused as from a dream, oblivious to the fact that she was simpering like an imbecile at the back of her unsuspecting brother at the thought of their passionate marriage.

"Trust me, you two are combustible." The florist gave another giggle before she continued her confident spiel, "I feel so sorry for some couples that walk in here. No tension, no fire, no passion, and I just know it can't end well. If it's like that before the wedding, then how is it going to feel after?"

"Yeah..." Ellie murmured absently, dwelling on whether her brother was feeling this alleged tension.

"So, I'm like... super-hungry."

Ellie roused from her deep reflectance to see her brother at their side.

"Well, your fiancée is still on the fence, so you might want—"

"Oh, no," he chuckled. "She's certainly—"

"Baby, you're right; it's not fair that I'm keeping you hungry. We'll decide over lunch. Come on." She hooked her arm in his and urgently lugged him to the exit. "Thanks for your help!"

"What was that all about?" he chuckled while Ellie dragged him down the street.

"Oh, nothing. You know what? I'm getting hungry myself. What are we in the mood for?"

Oliver was still confused, but his sister's shrewd distraction had already achieved success. "Chinese? I've been hankering for—"

"Sounds great. I know an excellent place a couple of blocks from here. Let's go."

***

After lunch, the siblings sauntered through a nearby park while enjoying a cone of ice cream. It was Oliver's idea, the stroll, as he was quite full and it was a beautiful day. Ellie, on the other hand, had barely touched the food, and the ice cream was effectively her lunch. She was never one to be accused of gluttony; nonetheless, she couldn't ignore the fact that her already modest appetite had taken a serious hit these last few days.

"If only Michela could see us now," he mused in mirth. "Do me a favor, don't tell her we've had ice cream. She'd kill me."

"I have to say, I'm torn."

"About what? The flowers?"

She shook her head and finished her ice cream. "How I feel about the idea of her killing you."

Oliver escaped her menacing gaze and chipped away at his ice cream cone.

Ellie had been taking shot after shot at him from the second he'd stepped into her car. He didn't even once criticize her, however, since he was aware it was part of her healing process and that there was very little chance for her to cease anytime soon.

He gestured at a vacant bench with his head. "Do you want to sit here?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. You're in high heels. I just thought you might want to rest."

"I'm always in high heels. I walk better in them than I do in sneakers; then again, I wouldn't expect you to remember as it has been half a decade."

Another dig by Ellie went unopposed by Oliver. He took the last bite of his ice cream and texted his mother again. He might not have known his sister all that well anymore, yet he still knew her. She was dying for him to comment, so she could go for the jugular, and he wasn't about to help her. No amount of provocations could lure him into that trap.

They kept strolling several more minutes in silence, both burdened by the tension, yet a very different kind than the one the florist had been so convinced existed between them.

"Have you even thought about me all this time?" Ellie asked, as if they'd been conversing for minutes.

Oliver sighed and looked into her eyes. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think anymore; not when it comes to you."

He gestured at a neat patch of grass nearby. "Do you mind if we sit here?"

He sat down without awaiting her reply.

Ellie sulked as she flopped down beside him. They remained still while Oliver was plotting his approach.

"I thought about you a lot. I emailed you the most. I know it doesn't seem like it, but you were on my mind."

"Yeah, 'cause fake emails about a made-up life have always been the perfect way to show how much you care. Not to mention the countless visits."

"You know, as much as I'm enjoying it, you don't really need the sarcasm. I know I've hurt you. I know it's gonna take some time—"

"Years, Oliver. It's going to take years until you manage to undo this damage. Maybe... you'll never be able to. I really don't know."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'll never be able to, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna keep trying. You all mean the world to me regardless of what I led you to believe."

"Well, good luck at that."

"I don't need luck. I have conviction."

"At least one of us does."

Oliver ignored his sister's warmongering and tried to get a read on her bitter face. "I think I have an idea how to make you forgive me, and it'll only take seconds instead of years. It's something I used to do to you a lot as kids."

"And what might that be?"

He reached for her waist with a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"Oliver, what are yo—NO! STOP!"

Ellie tried to escape his grip, but it was too late for her. Her kid brother had a firm hold of her, his fingers tickling their way up her sides. In seconds, and even though the blonde had voiced her objection numerous times, she was laughing her heart out. At one point, she managed to mount a counterattack, but Oliver had already foreseen this, and suddenly, what started out as a tickling quarrel was morphing into a battle of submissions with each attempting to subdue the other.

What followed next would have made that florist proud.

The playfulness that surrounded the early stages of what was supposed to be a harmless grapple was long gone when Ellie began clawing, punching, and kneeing an increasingly aggravated Oliver. She wanted to hurt him just as he'd hurt her, and she wasn't holding back. Oliver was no longer playing, either, taking a beating he'd never signed up for. His sister was out of her mind to think she could best him.

He absorbed her pokes, scratches, and any other form of punishment Ellie could think of, waiting for her to exhaust herself, but little did he know just how much his sister hated him at this moment. Feeding on resentment, she found strength and stamina she never knew she had and managed to roll them over only to instantly concede the advantage.

"Maybe you should calm d—fuck, Ellie!

Ellie got the better of him when she slammed her knee up his groin and rolled them over, indignation smoldering in her eyes. Straddling his stomach, she drove a fist after a fist into his abdomen, wanting to see him dead. He needed to pay for those five years and for Michela, but deep down, she wanted him to pay for those three days. He had no right to make her—

"Ellie, calm down! You're hurting me!"

Realizing there would be no end but his own, he deflected an especially angry fist and rolled them over. He endured a couple more pokes before he finally clutched both her wrists. He pressed her sultry body down, his hard chest smashing her bosom, his groin nestling in the juncture of her thighs, as he waited for her throw in the towel.

But Ellie wasn't ready to yield just yet. She wriggled and squirmed, desperate to free herself so she could punish her brother. Leaving no room for error this time around, Oliver wedged himself between her legs and inadvertently made her whimper. Astounded and then furious with his audacity, Ellie tried to push him off only to whimper again when he drove his crotch into hers to keep her from moving.

While definitely flaccid, Ellie could feel the outlines of his manhood pressing to her denim-covered crotch, and she almost wept at how good it felt. She wanted him to get harder for her with every thrust, and she wanted him to thrust forever. She was willing to lie under him until nightfall as long as he kept thrusting.

Although angry and in mild pain, Oliver couldn't deny that he was beginning to find this experience erotic. There he was, planted between his goddess of a sister's legs, crushing her large breasts with his chest and thrusting whenever she tried to escape. It felt so wrong that it was starting to feel right. Her whimpers were so sensual and feminine, just like in the many adult videos he'd been watching over the years. She was so effortlessly sexy, he thought. This was certainly not the first time he acknowledged that, but it was the first time he actually felt it, in a way a brother should never.

Inevitably, Ellie had consumed all of her immediate strength and was forced to lie still under her brother like a good girl, her back pinned to the grass and her arms in a similar predicament above her head. She never stood a chance, enraged or not, as Oliver was far stronger than her, and she really wasn't kidding anyone. The siblings were short of breath from the workout, and although Ellie had made several more attempts to free herself, they both knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking.