Her Brother’s Best Friend

Part One Recap: When Michael brought a surprise food delivery to the younger sister of his former best friend, he discovered her masturbating in the living room with a blindfold on. After filming her, he decides to pretend he didn't walk in on her... at least for now.

**********

Michael wasn't sure whether to be impressed or disappointed. After snagging all the photos and video he would need for his slap dash plan, he'd retreated to the kitchen to grab the takeout and play innocent. He'd hoped that the thirty seconds it took for him to mosey back into the living room would leave her still exposed, flushed, and panting for cock when he walked in. Instead, he found her fully wrapped in the towel, head phones on, pretending to read on her phone.

She's still drenched, though

, he thought, lips curving at the edges,

in sweat and in pussy juice.

He wanted his mouth full of her, that nectar on his tongue like a fresh picked peach in August.

Soon

, he promised himself.

"Hey, Molly," he said, waving his hands to get her attention. "Can you hear me?"

Molly gave a little jump and a gasp, clutching her hands against her chest. Michael tried not to laugh out loud at her poorly executed, if enthusiastic, farce.

"Oh my God! How did you get in here?" she warbled in false surprise.

"You left the door unlocked!" Michael claimed. "I'm sorry I startled you. Jason called me, and asked if I could bring you some takeout." He lifted his bag of food as evidence.

"Oh, wow," Molly squeaked. Her cheeks flushed an even brighter pink. "That's incredibly kind of you. I was just- um. I was just letting my hair dry. I'll go get dressed. Uh, would you wait? In the kitchen?"

"Of course," Michael said, an enigmatic smile on his face. "I'm all yours tonight."

**********

Oh. my. fucking. God!

Molly thought as she dashed up the stairs. Jason's hottest friend was here, had almost caught her coming all over a vibrator, and, worst of all, she hadn't even come up with a good reason to randomly be sitting in a towel listening to music in the living room.

Kill me now, my favorite vibe is laying on the floor under the couch, among the dust bunnies, while Michael fucking Randall is waiting for me in the kitchen!

She threw on an oversize t-shirt dress and thong, feeling her juices soak through the thin fabric of her panties instantaneously. Molly shook, the aftermath of multiple orgasms, the scramble to cover herself, and Michael's presence racing through her. Finger combing her hair as she went, she headed downstairs to the kitchen and tried to calm herself with deep breaths. This had always been Michael's effect on her; she always felt at a disadvantage.

And who could blame me?

she thought sadly.

I shoved my barely covered polk-a-dot bikini clad tits at him for an entire summer and he never batted an eye. And now here he is, trying to help my broke ass while my brother treats me like a dog he forgot to leave food out for.

Stealing herself, she entered the kitchen, shoulders back and head up. Michael stood at the sink with his back to her, rinsing something and reaching out for a hand towel that hung beside it.

"So what did you bring? It smells amazing."

An assortment of takeout containers sat arrayed on the counter, along with two plates and utensils.

He remembered where we keep everything

, she thought in surprise.

"Italian," he tossed over his shoulder. "Picked up some lasagna, and chicken parm. Cool with that?"

"It sounds amazing. I'm starving," she said.

Michael turned towards her, dabbing her vibrator completely dry and holding it out to her.

"I bet," he said. "You seem to have worked up quite an appetite."

She took it from him mutely, flushing to the color of a ripe strawberry.

"I--I can expl-" she stuttered.

"Don't," he ordered, his crystal blue eye piercing her. "Masturbating is nothing to be ashamed of. But you should really take better care of your toys," he said with a smile and a wink, turning to plate up some of the food.

Molly drifted over to the other side of the kitchen, where four chairs circled a round table. She set the vibrator on the chair next to her, where it was thankfully out of sight, and stared at the table top in mortification.

A few moments later, Michael slowly slid a full plate of food into her field of vision before sitting next to her.

"Eat," he ordered, his voice rough.

She looked at him from underneath her lashes, before obediently tucking into the food.

**********

The sight of Molly eagerly sliding her fork in and out of her mouth with obvious relish, on his orders, nearly hypnotized Michael. He knew, he

knew

that she was likely hungry after a long day of work, and none too concerned at his phrasing. But the things she'd whimpered while pleasuring herself and his own fantasies of control swirled within him as he methodically consumed his dinner.

"So, um, I haven't really seen you around this summer..." Molly said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Michael said easily. "Jason and I had a bit of a falling out."

"Jason has a lot of those," Molly observed mildly, eliciting a chuckle form Jason.

"I bet," he replied.

"Why did you come then? If you two had a falling out?"

"He said you were hungry and he hadn't taken you to the grocery store."

Molly seemed to shrink in on herself slightly.

"I don't need your pity," she told him. "It's a Friday night. I'm sure you have some place you'd rather be so..." Her plate empty, she moved to stand up, but Michael's hand was on her shoulder, keeping her in her seat.

"I'm here because I wanted to see you, Molly," he said quietly.

Molly snorted derisively.

"It's true," he insisted. "As far as I'm concerned, this is a date."

"Oh, is that so? In what way is this a date?" Molly said dubiously.

"Well," Michael said. "I brought you dinner after a long week, we're enjoying each other's company, and in about 5 minutes, you're going to get on your knees like a good girl and ask if you can suck my dick."

Michael took a moment to enjoy her startled silence, the flush spreading across her cheeks, the flashes of anger and attraction flickering across her face.

"Okay, that's enough. I don't need to be spoken to like this-" Molly exclaimed.

"I think this is EXACTLY how you need to be spoken to," Michael countered. "Imagine my surprise when I walked in on sweet, unassuming Molly Sue earlier this evening, naked, slamming a dildo in and out of her pretty pink pussy and begging to be treated like a whore."

"I-"

"The best part of it," Michael spoke over her aggressively, "was all the time I had on my hands to film you."

Molly fell silent, her eyes wide.

"My God, woman. You could be a fucking star cam girl if you cared to be! I nearly busted just watching you."

"What are you going to do with the pictures and video, Michael?" Molly asked pathetically.

"Whatever you want me to do with them, once you've looked through all of them in front of me," he answered.

Michael almost laughed out loud at her ever growing surprise. She must've thought he planned some disgusting blackmail scheme. But that would've never been enough for him. He wanted, no, he needed her to submit of her own accord. To give in to his dominance and control, to beg him to take her, as she had in her fantasy.

"Why would you make me watch it?!" she exclaimed.

"Because you need to admit to yourself that you're a submissive slut who needs a good top in her life. And I want to be that guy."

"What makes you think I want you?"

"The way you're looking at me right now," he snapped, eyes blazing. "I can see from here how hard your nipples are, teasing me through that scrap of fabric that's barely covering you. Your eyes are dilated, you're breathing fast, you're flushed. I bet you're going to leave a wet mark on that chair underneath you."

Michael could see outrage and arousal warring within her. It took everything in him not to grab her by the hair, bend her over, and shove his cock into her hot, wet hole. Instead he reached out his hand, skimming his fingers gently along her jaw line and then into the hair on the nape of her neck. He tugged her head forward and brought his lips to hers, teasing. As she sighed and opened for him, he shoved his tongue inside, mouth fucking her, a promise of what was to come.

When Molly had fully succumbed the kiss, pliant beneath his hand, he pulled back, tightened his grip on her hair, and pulled her head back.

Looking deep into her eyes, he said, "Get on your knees." He guided her out of her chair, to the floor, and basked in the surrender on her face. "Now, ask me nicely."

**********

Molly had never been so turned on in her entire life. She railed at herself.

I should tell him to fuck off. He filmed me without my consent!

But she also trusted him completely when he said he'd let her choose what to do with them. If she told him to delete all of it, he would.

Am I angry because he filmed me? Or am I more upset he didn't take me then?

Her lips trembling, her pussy juice, having soaked through her thin, silky thong, now running down her thighs, she knelt in front of him and said, "May I please suck your cock?"

"Sir," he corrected. Molly huffed in irritation. She loved this. She hated this. And nothing mattered anymore, nothing but having his cock.

"May I please suck your cock, sir?" she repeated.

Michael cocked his head to one side, and she was suddenly worried that he would deny her, that she hadn't asked sweetly enough, that he might decide he didn't want her anymore.

"Yes," said Michael. "But first take off that silly dress and the panties, too. Cock-hungry sluts serve me on their knees with their tits out."

Molly lifted her dress over her head, still kneeling, and slid her thong off.

"Good girl," Michael praised. "Now take out my cock."

She reached for it eagerly, fumbling his belt, her soft, round c-cups swaying and bouncing as she freed him. Molly had known, ever since seeing him in his swim trunks two summers back, that he was big. But the sight of his hard, 8-inch rod made her pussy clench.

"Put your hands behind your back," Michael instructed.

Molly wanted to scream with frustration. She had just put her hands on him, and now he was stopping her. She followed his instructions, though, lacing her fingers together behind her ass.

"Now, lean back on your heels, and spread your legs as far as they'll go."

**********

The position put her on display for him. Her arms shoved her perfect breasts forward, her waist nipped inward and then curved out into round hips and her pussy was spread nicely for his viewing, framed by soft brown curls.

Michael had a moment of wondering if any of it was real, if she was really giving herself to him this way. He wanted to act out every fantasy he'd ever had about her all at once, to use, abuse, and pleasure. He meditated on control, even as a wave of lust crested.

"You may lean forward and suck me with your mouth only, slut," he said.

If I let her use her hands, I'll blow my load in 5 seconds flat

, he thought ruefully.

Molly leaned eagerly forward, taking the bead of precum on his tip onto her tongue before popping the head of his dick into her mouth and sucking it like it was the last tootsie pop on earth. Michael groaned at the sensation, head tilted back and hips giving an involuntary jerk. Molly's eyes smiled up at him as she opened wider and took him in farther and farther, until her lips reached two thirds the way to his base, before bobbing back, tongue working the underside of his dick all the way through.

Michael spread his legs wider and reach his hands down to pinch her nipples and massage her boobs, enjoying the rhythm she was finding with her mouth. He slapped her right tit, watching it bounce and noting her pleased little gasp on his dick.

He shoved his left hand into her hair and set the rhythm, roughening until she started to choke around him as he went. A few minutes later he pulled her off his dick, before he came. She whined as he pulled her back and he fought not to smile.

"It's time for dessert," he said lightly. He moved the plates aside and then said, "Lay down on the table."

Molly obeyed awkwardly, knees stiff from kneeling on the tile and unsure where he wanted her. Michael caressed her as she rose, pecking her on the mouth and laying her flat on the table in front of his chair, legs spread.

"So wet," he murmured.

He placed a finger at the top of her slit, and slowly dragged it downward.

Molly bucked and moaned. "Please," she breathed.

"Please, what?"

"I need to come," she gasped.

He spanked her pussy, once, making her cry out.

"You will address me as sir," he said.

"Please, sir, I need to come, let me come."

"My slut, you will come when I desire and not a moment sooner," he told her, before leaning forward and laving her clit with his tongue.

Michael went about edging her in earnest then. His tongue pleasured her clit and her weeping pussy, fingers dancing. He shoved one finger into her tight box, then two, then three. With every stroke more of her juice leaked out of her, puddling on the kitchen table of her childhood home. Every time she neared climax, Michael backed off, blowing cold air on her clit or spanking her mons lightly.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Molly had gone from begging for more to animalistic sounds of need. The fourth time she approached climax, Michael pulled his drenched fingers from her cunt at the last possible moment. With his thumb, he started playing with the pink rosebud of her asshole, still softly licking her clit on and off.

"No!" Molly gasped at the contact, trying to scoot backward. "I've n-never--"

Michael ignored, resuming his fingering of her pussy and slowly working his thumb inside her hot, tight asshole.

"Do you want to come, Molly? Are you ready to take my cock?" Michael asked, dick twitching as he watch her ass pushing back rhythmically against his invading digit.

"Please, please, please, fuck me, fuck me," Molly chanted, nearly out of her mind with the need for release.

Michael withdrew his fingers and stood, all eight inches at the ready. He kept her legs spread wide, and slowly shoved his full length into her in one long stroke. Molly screamed as she took him to the hilt, head thrown back, breasts heaving.

"Look at me," Michael demanded. He leaned forward and put his hand on her throat. Amber eyes widening, Molly looked up at Michael. "Before I fuck you, we need to get a few things straight. What are you?"

Molly's eyes darkened and her whole body seemed to shudder beneath him. "I'm a slut," she said, just above a whisper.

"And who does this pussy belong to?"

"You, sir."

"That's right, Molly," Michael growled, pulling almost all the way out of her, and then ramming back in. "You're my slut, and this pussy belongs to me now."

Michael fucked her hard, making her cry out with every thrust, until her breathing quickened and she climbed toward climax. Reaching back, he shoved his thumb back into her asshole.

Leaning forward he whispered, "Your sweet little pussy isn't the only thing that belongs to me now."

It was all too much for Molly. She felt that he was consuming her, that she was completely in his power and this last act of domination, as he laid a future claim on all her holes, sent an orgasm tearing through her.

Michael kept pumping away inside her as wave after wave of ecstasy shook Molly, his abs and back flexing sinuously under the fluorescent kitchen lights.

His cheek resting against hers, he continued to whisper filthy things to Molly that only enhanced her pleasure. "You like that idea, don't you, slut? You love the idea of being taken by me however and whenever I want you. You've always fucking needed it. Your cunt was made to take this dick. Are you ready to be a cum-bucket as well as a slut?"

Molly, well on her way to a second orgasm, gasped, "Cum inside me. I'm on the pill."

Michael smirked triumphantly, twisting her nipple. "It wasn't really a question. You're my little slut and you'll be taking my cum until I decide otherwise."

Molly's second orgasm hit, and this time Michael came with her, his vision darkening as he pumped her full of his semen.

Both of them lay gasping on the kitchen table for a while, Michael still inside her, as they came down from the high of their first time together.

"I'm crushing you," Michael said, stirring and placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Go easy, I'm a little sore," Molly said with a half-smile. She was drenched in sweat, her hair matted, and her neck and breasts were pink from his stubble.

Fucking gorgeous

, Michael thought. He eased off of her slowly, pulling his pants up but leaving the top button undone. She might think they were done, but he was just getting started.

He helped her as she gingerly sat up, tugging her against him. "Care for another shower?" Michael asked.

Molly smiled, full of sunny ease. "I'd love one."