Alright, so I decided it was unfair to end this series on a cliffhanger. If you read this and want more, say something.
-K
*
"Come on, Don, get up. We're going to the lake."
It was the morning after the storm. Donovan lay on his stomach with his face half-buried in his pillow. I gave his body a shove, but my brother was built like a brick shithouse. There was just no give. I shook him harder. A hand shot out and grabbed my ass.
"Naw," grunted Donovan lazily. "Wanna fuck you first."
Donovan still smelled like sex. His shirt had ridden up, exposing a wedge of his backside, and the way he squeezed my ass had my dick pushing up against the crotch of my jeans in no time. I wanted to jump him bad. But it was too risky.
"You want Ashley to catch us?" I reminded him.
Donovan swore and rolled over. Sitting up, he yawned and scratched an armpit. Then he pulled me down and French-kissed me.
* * *
Last night had been a close call. My room was just down the hall from my brother's, so between when Ashley figured out my room was empty and when she'd flung open Don's door I had just seconds to scuttle beneath the bed. Lying on the floor too scared to even breathe, all I could think of was Don's cum cooling on my skin and on the bed. Thank God the room was dark.
As my sister stood in the doorway I could just make out the outline of her shapely legs. At twenty-one and the youngest of the family, Ashley was the kind of girl that attracted boys like flies to dead meat. She looked different enough from everyone else in the family that once, when she'd been little, she'd asked if she'd been adopted. Dad had replied dryly, "Yes dear. But they gave you back."
On the night she'd almost caught us she was a walking disaster. The rainwater dripping off her and pooling on Don's hardwood floor did nothing to alleviate the smelled of booze, cigarettes, and cheap perfume. But Donovan's priority was always family. It didn't matter that she smelled or that he was buck naked. He went to her straight away and got her out of her clothes and beneath a warm towel, mumbling reassuring words all the while. Only when he was satisfied that she was safe and dry did he start getting dressed. It took a while, but amidst her chattering teeth and broken sobs, we learned that she'd hitchhiked into town and that she was three months pregnant.
"Shit, Ashley," Donovan swore softly. Sitting together on the bed, I could see my brother's feet planted on the hardwood floor while Ashley's dangled twitchily beside him.
"Who's the father?" he asked.
"Gone!" she sobbed.
A confusing story ensued. At first, Ashley seemed to imply that she'd been raped, but when Don threatened violence on the perpetrator she backpedalled, saying instead she'd been involved in some kind of "misunderstanding". She'd been "sleeping" (read: wasted) at a wild house party. One of the other girls at the party had been intoxicated, and had gotten jealous about something, which then resulted in them fighting. The other girl had wrestled her to the ground ... and that was how she'd become pregnant.
This all left Don and I scratching our heads. I had half a mind to ask Ashley what fucking a transvestite felt like because nothing in her story made sense.
Eventually Don asked, "So what you going to do now?"
"I don't know," she mumbled.
"You have to tell Mum and Dad, Ashley."
Seemingly out of the blue, she asked, "Do you remember when Darren told Dad he was gay?" Without waiting for Don's response, she leapt into a rambling story, the grist of which was, "Dad started saying those awful things, his fucking sarcastic jokes. But then you came up and put your arms around Darren and you said, 'Nobody talks to my brother that way, you fucking got that Dad?' You said it really quiet, but it was like you were total different person." She ended it by sniffling, "No one's ever stood up for me like that."
"Aww, Ashley. You know I'd do the same for you. I won't let Dad push you around," he said earnestly.
"Why?" she asked in a voice that sounded broken and vulnerable.
"'Cause you're my sister," was his gruff reply.
For me, the exchange was raising red flags all over the place. Ashley had my dumb brother wrapped around her fingers and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. What was it that JC used to call her? He'd dated her once...
"Would you help me with my baby?" she pleaded.
"What d'you need?" offered Donovan immediately.
"Money."
Ah... that's right; JC called her PMS, short for Poor Manipulative Slut.
"How much?" asked Donovan.
"Just a few th—" she began, but then stopped, distracted. "Why's your bed wet?" she asked, her tone curious.
I heard Ashley inhale. I imagined her sniffing her fingers, realization dawning on her.
Leaping off the bed as if she'd been scalded by hot water, she gasped, "Please tell me this isn't what I think it is." Suddenly, she didn't sound vulnerable at all.
Donovan just chuckled and shifted his weight on the bed, making it creak.
"Oh my God," she cried in outrage. "You were jacking...? I've fucking got... OH... MY... GOD! Ew Ew Ew EW!!!"
Shrieking, she ran out the room, slamming his door behind her. I breathed a sigh of relief as my brother started laughing, a deep rumble that echoed the receding thunder.
* * *
After the tricky business of getting Donovan out the door without being fucked, we drove about fifteen minutes out of town before pulling over. With the path to the lake overgrown and still wet from the storm, I had to do a fair bit of bushwhacking, which in a way was a good thing since it meant it wasn't likely we'd be disturbed. Still, it was slow going. The bulky canvas and easel my brother was carrying for me kept getting caught in the underbrush.
"So how'd you find this place?" asked Don, trudging up a hill behind me.
"JC and I used to come here lots," I told him.
A little further down the trees began to thin and the lake came into view. It was a small protected cove with wooded cliffs on both sides. Standing on the sandy beach in between, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia.
Donovan looked at me thoughtfully. "So you guys used to fuck here, eh?" There was a glint in his eye.
"Jealous?" I queried, raising an eyebrow.
Donovan let out a throaty laugh. Dropping his load, he manhandled me into his arms. "You bet. He's lucky I like him. Otherwise I'd knock out a few of his teeth the next time I saw him on the ice." Licking the back of my ear, he murmured, "Nobody fucks my little brother except for me."
I felt like vanilla ice cream melting, melting...
"I gotta set up." I said, pushing him away. "Start getting naked."
Between setting up the easel and preparing the paints, I kept an eye on my brother. For the past three months he'd been the inspiration that had kept me churning out some of the best works I'd ever done. It didn't matter that I couldn't display them publicly, let alone sell them. Painting Donovan made me happy, and not just because it usually ended in an amazing fuck.
Sex, though, was definitely on my mind as I watched Donovan undress. The plaid shirt that he was wearing made him look like a fucking lumberjack. Each button he undid showed off a fresh patch of skin. The ridge of his collar bone was followed by the cleavage of his pectorals, from the sheen of which I could tell he'd worked up a nice sweat on the way here. His treasure trail began at his solar plexus, a narrow, dark tongue of hair that winded its way between the weave of his abs. As he shrugged off his shirt with his massive shoulders, Donovan winked and shot me a devilish grin.
We both knew this was just foreplay to some hardcore bareback fucking.
Unbuttoned his cut-off jeans, I realized he hadn't bothered with underwear. His treasure trail flared into a mat of dark, roughly-trimmed pubic hair, from the midst of which a fat, hungry beast reared its head. It was enough to make me salivate. The purple vein that ran along the length of Don's cock seemed to pulse with raw energy. It wanted to be touched. It wanted to be buried inside a hot, tight hole where it could release a torrent of baby-making sperm and semen. My sphincter clenched in yearning...
"Stop that." I said reproachfully, snapping out of the trance.
"I ain't doing nothin'," drawled Donovan, trying to look innocent but failing. His cock twitched.
"Take your shoes and socks off," I ordered. "I want you wet and in the water."
My older brother usually did what he was told when I was painting. He'd bide his time in the knowledge that he'd be in charge when we moved on to the fucking. It was part of the give-and-take that made our relationship work. Now and then I'd make him hold awkward poses just to piss him off, knowing that he'd take revenge afterwards by giving it to me nice and rough.
Donovan ambled across the short stretch of beach and wadded into the water. He swam out free-style, his long, powerful strokes propelling him into the lake in a matter of minutes. Swimming back to the beach, he sat sprawled in the breaking waves, slowly stroking his big cock. With the morning sun setting his skin and the water sparkling, it was a damn beautiful sight.
About fifteen minutes into the session, Donovan stood up and started walking towards me.
"Hey!" I called, "I've still got five minutes on you."
But Donovan kept moving till he was standing right in front of me. With his brawny arms hanging loosely by his side while water dripped from his crude form, my brother radiated untamed masculinity. His expression was hard to read in the glare of the sun, but from the way his cock stood straight out, I was pretty sure he wanted to stick it into something.
"Look, " I started. "We can fuck after I—"
