Mouse B. 02

The next day started similarly, with the same intentions, if different expectations. Mouse went through her routine, trying to look sexy. She had made up her mind that there was a reason for it today, and that she had better do a fantastic job, because she had to make amends.

She started by wearing lingerie, a skimpy sheer baby doll, and then added layers on top of that. The lingerie had to be very skimpy, because she wasn't planning on wearing much over it. She chose a stylish top, a silver gray number with long sleeves but incongruously bare shoulders and a mostly open back, and a halter style strap that looped around her neck into a high collar.

The extra touch of slut was added by a large keyhole opening between her breasts, not showing much, but offsetting that by exposing parts of her breasts that were not normally seen in polite company. She didn't wear a bra.

The top was longish. It was only meant as a tunic, to be worn with something else on bottom. For work she wore a pair of tight jeans. But when she left to meet Michael, she took them off to put on the shortest denim mini skirt any woman had ever worn. For her, panties were usually optional, Mouse thought. Tonight they were forbidden.

She put on another pair of dangly silver earrings, and Michael's charming necklace. It felt cool and warm at the same time against her flesh. Today she applied bright red "blow job" lipstick. Since he had noticed, and had liked it enough to say so, she straightened her hair again. Look out, Michael, she thought. Mouse is coming.

She was a half an hour early to pick him up. She didn't mind appearing eager. It was part of the apology. This time there was a receptionist, so to her disappointment, and that of the floor workers, she was sure, she couldn't invade his space by wandering out onto the warehouse floor. She had to restrain herself, barely containing her impatience, in the reception area.

He said hello to her politely, if a bit coldly, when he came out. They walked out together, conspicuously not touching. He slipped into her car.

He didn't say anything at first, so she figured she'd better get it started.

"Did you check out of your hotel?" she asked.

"Do I have a place to stay if I do?" he asked, without humor.

Shit, Mouse thought. He's pissed. And he has a right to be.

"Yes, of course."

His eyebrows raised in an unspoken "oh, really, are you sure?"

"Yes. Definitely, yes." she repeated. "Look, I'm so sorry. I... I don't know what the deal was, I still haven't figured it out. My head's not on straight. I don't know why I freaked. I did it and it was wrong and it was cruel and I can't promise it won't happen again but I'm really, really sorry and I'll make it up to you, I promise. I promise."

The words came out so fast she couldn't stop them. They virtually pummeled Michael back in his seat. She felt a tear welling up as she finished. That forced her to make a concerted effort to control herself. She was not going to cry in front of him, for him. That was not going to happen. She sucked in a deep breath, then turned to face forward, exhaling the breath, and more.

She couldn't believe she was this worked up. She hadn't felt this way since college.

"You don't want to leave, do you? For home, I mean?" she asked timorously, eyes locked on nothing beyond the windshield in front of her.

She saw a movement to her side. She felt Michael's hand brush her cheek. She closed her eyes, while shifting her head to nuzzle his hand.

"I really want to kiss you," he said, "but the receptionist is watching. Just drive. Let's go. Let's forget yesterday happened."

She turned to smile at him shyly, grateful that her worst fears had not come true. I won't blow this, she thought, as she pulled out to speed toward the highway that headed into the city, towards the heart of her own little world.

* * *

They drove most of the way in silence, holding hands. She wouldn't let his hand go.

Out of nowhere Michael asked a hard question.

"Are you seeing anyone, Mouse?" It came out almost inaudibly, and seemingly with disinterest.

She looked at him sharply, concerned. She could tell it took a concerted effort for him to get that out.

"What? No. You mean, like a guy? Other than you? Don't be silly, no. Why'd you think that?"

He was silent a moment. She answered her own question during the intermission.

"Oh. Yeah. Right. I'm nuts. Okay. No, I didn't go schizoid yesterday because I'm seeing some other guy and now you're in the way. I'd never, ever, ever do that to you. That would make me as bad as your bitch of an ex-wife," she finished with a touch of venom.

She paused. She was frightened into honesty by her own behavior the previous evening.

"Well, I guess it could, but I wouldn't do it the way she did," she corrected. "I don't know. I don't know what we're doing, or what we think we're doing, or where we're going, or what. This can't last forever. Can it?"

She looked to him hopefully, wanting him to contradict her and make it all go away.

"You sound like me, when this all started, Mouse," Michael pointed out.

"Hmm? I suppose," she answered while still thinking. "'Oh, how the mighty have fallen'," she laughed, half heartedly. She squeezed his hand harder. "But it's not happening right now. I don't have an excuse, or an explanation, but I am

not

seeing another guy. I want to see you. I want to have you. Tonight I'm going to have you, and I'm going to make up for two months and one stupid day all in one too short night. Tonight."

Michael was silent, but squeezed her hand in response. They drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence, he lost in his thoughts, she in hers.

* * *

Dinner was short and sweet. There was very little small talk, no serious talk, and lots of flirting and hand holding and sly, sexual innuendoes.

Mouse was still very self conscious, acting something like Michael by discretely looking to see if anyone was listening, or if anyone she knew was around. She still hadn't decided how to introduce him to her friends. For now, her plan was to simply avoid anyone that knew her, if she could. But at least Mouse was better at it. She came off as carefree, even if she wasn't. She projected confidence, while inside she worried endlessly. Above all she expressed a focused interest, a deep passion for Michael, even if she still had secret, distracting doubts.

When dinner was over, he asked to see the city nightlife. He hadn't done that sort of thing since before he was married, ten years ago, he said. Michael was clearly relieved, though, and excited when she suggested they head back to her apartment early instead.

Before leaving the restaurant she asked a stranger, a woman, to take a picture of her with Michael. She was creating a small collection, a documentary of his visit. It was physical, undeniable proof of their relationship and their time together. Once that was done, she took his hand to lead him quickly away.

She attacked him in the elevator at her building. As soon as the doors closed, her arms snaked around his neck. She pulled herself up to drive her tongue past his lips, eagerly tasting him, boiling his blood in one quick moment. Instantly he was kissing her back, holding her tightly against him, allowing his hand to slide down the curve of her back to cup her ass while pulling her firmly against his swelling cock. She delighted in the sudden flood of combined sensations and emotions.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered in his ear.

The elevator door opened. She reluctantly broke free, grabbed his hand and seemingly tore him from the elevator toward her apartment. Her eyes smoked amidst a face clouded by a spreading, enveloping passion.

"I've never seen the Mouse Hole," Michael said lightly.

"You say it like it's a super hero's lair, like 'The Bat Cave' or 'The Fortress of Solitude'," she said in the same whimsical tone, while opening the bolt with her key. "The Mouse Hole," she said with grandeur, swinging open the door with a flourish.

"Do you have a super hero's costume under your every day clothes?" he asked.

"You know I do," she answered.

Once inside she offered him a glass of wine, which he readily accepted. He looked around while she clattered around, digging out the bottle and glasses. She eyed him as he studied her taste in decorations and music, looked at the furniture, looked out the windows. He even took a peak down the short hall, toward her bedroom. She came back balancing the bottle and glasses in both hands. She nodded toward where he had wandered.

"In a hurry?" she said accusingly. "You'll see my secret lab soon enough, Dr. Snake."

"Ooooh, I get to be the villian?" he asked, returning to her den. He took the bottle from her and filled their glasses. "I never imagined myself in that role. It might be fun."

"You get to be evil, if that's what you mean," she said. Her face offered him a twinkle and a smile. She sat down on the sofa, looking him into a spot beside her. He sat there, eyes rolling over her, studying her body. She watched him with pleasure, enjoying the idea that he was openly admiring her, that she was having that effect on him.

She watched in tight suspense as he allowed one hand to reach forward, slowly, as one finger floated inside the keyhole opening in her top, then gently explored the bare skin exposed at the insides and undersides of her breasts. She closed her eyes, relishing the touch of his long worshipped hands. She arched her back, pushing her breasts more firmly against him. When he remained gentle and tender, she grew impatient. He was too shy, now, she had scared him too much, she thought.

She took his hand in hers, eagerly moving it fully onto her breast. She pulled it hard against her, silently urging him, imploring him to handle her more firmly. She closed her eyes to surrender to the sensations. She let her mouth form a small, inviting "o", then waited for his tongue to find hers.

He knew what she wanted, he always knew, she thought. Then his tongue touched the inside of her breast instead, taking her by surprise, flicking and exploring the flesh there, snaking in to find the corner of her hardening nipple, tickling it with warm, wet strokes. She giggled with shocked elation, then let one hand glide to his head to pull his mouth more firmly into her chest.

"Naughty little boy, Michael. Licking your baby sister's titties," she teased. She closed her eyes while sucking in a deep breath through her teeth. "Kiss me, Michael, please," she commanded, letting it end as an agonized plea.

He quickly obeyed her orders, both reluctantly and eagerly moving his mouth up to hers. He left one hand to continue massaging a hard nipple. The double touches thrilled her. The two types of contact, kiss and caress, lips and nipple, warred with each other for her sole attention.

Michael and Mouse kissed feverishly. He seemed to be trying his best to consume her, pushing her back, forcing his mouth over hers and into hers, letting it wander sloppily past her lips to her face. He didn't do that often, she thought. She liked the way he normally kissed, carefully, under control, exploring and probing her neatly with his lips. Yet she liked this, too, right now, a hungry rabid animal kiss that cared only for its own pleasure, not for hers, that hunted frantically about, out of control. That's what she wanted now, that's what gave her pleasure, to be his, to be his pleasure, to make him lose control. His mouth found her neck, forcing her high collar down to rake her flesh with teeth and tongue and saliva.

"Yes, Michael. I'll be a whore for you tonight," she breathed. "A dirty little sister whore," she continued, her voice rising to a squeak. "Like I should have been last night, like I'm supposed to be every night, like I want to be."

His fingers were suddenly inside her. She didn't know how he had found the opening in her skirt so quickly, and from there how he had found the opening in her cunt so quickly, without searching or probing or fumbling. One instant they were kissing and she had been floating, lost in his touches, and then he was inside her.

She was wet and ready for him so soon, so quickly, that in moments she was bucking against his hand, trying to thrust her suddenly swollen clitoris against him, helping to drive his excitingly thick fingers further into her. Soon she was leaning slowly back, leaving only her hips for him, offering her open cunt to him, panting with passion, edging herself into heaven.

"Wait," she cried, her eyes snapping open. "Wait, Michael, wait."

He froze as if he'd been shot.

"Wait, wait." she said breathlessly, easing him off of her. "I need this to last, darling brother." She looked into his eyes so that he could see that the hunger was still there.

"How'd you get in there so fast?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I have plans for you tonight, big plans. I can't let myself, I can't let you take me away from my plans," she said, still catching her breath.

She kissed him quickly on the nose, then her mind was consumed by the sight of his mouth so close to hers. She lost focus so easily tonight, she thought, as she allowed herself one more angry kiss against his lips. When she pulled away it was achingly difficult. She slipped from his grasp. She stood up, taking a moment to pose seductively for him. His eyes marauded over her curves in silent, tantalizing rape.

She took their wine glasses from the table. She moved them to her desk, in front of her computer.

"I have an Internet site I want you to visit," she announced, as if she were a flight attendant announcing their arrival at an airport.

"Excuse me?" Michael asked. The sudden change in focus was a like a cold blast of air.

"Come on, big brother. This will be fun, I promise. Give it a try," she said, patting the seat in front of the computer. Michael walked over. He looked down at her diminutive form, then dropped into the chair in confusion. She spun around herself to fall into his lap with giggle.

She studied his face happily, kissed him again, and turned to the computer to study the screen. She reached over to grab the computer mouse, then selected a bookmark in the browser.

"Literotica.com," he read. "What's that? Porno?"

"Porno as it would be if intelligent women ran the Internet," Mouse explained like a lecturing professor.

"Dirty stories," he said bluntly.

"Erotic stories," she corrected. "Read this one."

"'Sister's Secret Dream'," he read. He looked sidelong at her, half grinning. "Sounds promising. Did you write this?"

"No, silly, there are thousands of them here. Tens of thousands. I picked this one specially for you, to start with, though. I think you'll like it." He leaned forward to kiss her. She felt his large hand on her breast again. She leaned backwards and snapped her head aside, dodging his kiss, but she let the hand stay where it was. She even moved her own thumb to lightly caress his, while his strong fingers made tight circles around her nipple.

"Read," she ordered.

She watched his face as he read the story. She studied his eyes and cheeks and mouth. She kissed his forehead, flicked her tongue in his ear, nuzzled his neck. While he read it, she read him.

At one point he became so engrossed in the story that he stopped massaging her nipple. She used her hand to silently rebuke him, to get him started again. He looked over at her in meek apology. She just smiled back and told him to keep reading. Before he did, she smothered his mouth with another kiss. Then she remembered herself, and used her hands to forcibly turn his head back to the screen.

She followed along with him as he scrolled down and advanced the page. She'd read this story several times. It was hand picked from several of her favorites. When he reached a certain point, she slipped off of his lap and under the desk, to look up at him from between his legs like a dark eyed cherub. She smiled at him, then bit her lower lip as she promptly began to undo his belt.

"I promised you several times before that I would suck your amazing cock. Tonight you are going to learn, first hand, that your little sister is the absolute world's champion cock sucker, and you are going to spend the rest of your days begging her to do it over and over again." Her eyes and her voice were both fire as she said this, and she could see in his face that he believed her. "Keep reading," she said.

The buckle and zipper came undone easily, but there was another clasp to the pants that frustrated her. She struggled a while, knowing it was ruining both her mood and the whole effect. She finally gave up with a theatrically exasperated sigh. "Can you help me, big brother?" she asked in a pleading little girl voice.

Without taking his eyes from the screen he quickly undid the snap, lifted his ass a bit from the chair, and allowed her to pull his pants down to his ankles. "Thank you, Michael, you're the best," she said, as if they were still kids, and then she lowered her face to press it hard against his cock.

She stayed there a while, her eyes closed, feeling the hard, smooth heat of it pressing into her cheek. She occasionally offered it a light kiss or two, but Mouse otherwise held herself in check, letting the passion build in her brother's mind before she let it explode in her mouth.

"Are you skipping ahead?" she asked. She imagined her disembodied voice floating up to him from beneath the desk.

"No," he answered.

"Liar," she accused. "Read it properly, or I'll know and I'll punish you. There may be a quiz later." She laughed.

Michael grunted in reply. He kept reading.

"Read out loud to me, Michael," she commanded.

He hesitated, so she bit him gently. She listened to him suck in a breath through clenched teeth. "Careful," she warned, "or mommy will send you to bed without her dinner." She slurped loudly, just for the effect, running her mouth along the length of his prick. There was another moment's pause as he enjoyed the sensation, then he began reading.

"Lisa couldn't believe what she was watching. She wanted to turn and run away, but she was riveted to the spot," he read. "Her own sister was holding their brother's cock in her hands, staring at it and clinging tightly to it like it was something alive that she'd caught and was afraid would get away. It was huge..."

Michael paused. Mouse used the interlude to run her mouth along the length of his shaft again. She'd intended to stop there, but couldn't. Now that she'd begun, she had to have more. With her sudden attentions, Michael lost his concentration. She could tell he was still reading, but had forgotten to continue out loud. She let him lose himself in the story, while she lost herself in the feel of his cock in her mouth.

"Read to me more," she begged eventually, again with her best little girl voice.

Michael hesitated again, as if he'd been so lost in the experience, in the story and the feel of her mouth, that he'd forgotten she was actually there. Good, Mouse thought. That's what I want. Lose yourself, forget who we are, forget you're with me, just have the most amazing orgasm you've ever experienced. And then, afterward, you can remember who shared it with you.

"The cock seemed to fill her completely, Lisa thought as she spied on them." Michael read. His voice had become deeper, huskier. "Jason drove his stiff prick into Kathy so violently, and their sister screamed so loudly, Lisa was sure it must be hurting her. But her sister's face, as tortured as it seemed, despite all its contortions, was still covered with a smile, a huge, beaming smile. She liked it, Lisa knew. Their brother obviously did, too, because he never slowed, he never stopped. He just kept giving it to her. Lisa touched herself..."

Michael's voice trailed off yet again as he became lost in the feel of Mouse's tongue. Mouse fluttered it over his cock head while squeezing the shaft rhythmically with her hand. She had spent her time so far searching for sensitive spots, learning what Michael liked and felt, and what he didn't. She was mastering his cock, concentrating only on pleasing him, getting her pleasure from the idea that she could be his ultimate pleasure.