Mouse B. 03

Book 03 Chapter 01: Mouse's Wedding

<8 Monday: Second Proposal

Another ocean wave lapped at their feet and calves. His cock plunged deeply into her with its arrival, in rhythm with the waves, as it seemed to her that it had been doing for hours. A warm, soft breeze had been passing over them since the beginning of the evening. Now it passed unnoticed, driven from her mind by more pressing sensations.

"That's it, Michael," she purred as his cock stretched her yet again, filling her completely. "Fuck your baby sister, Michael, fuck me good."

"You fuck me so good," she added in a soft squeal, almost a whimper. "You fuck your little Mona-Mouse so good."

This was their third time today, and her lover, her brother, was now staying hard for as long as he wished, giving her pleasure without end. The Mexico sky was deep, dark blue-black, sprinkled with points of white. The moon was bright and full, floating amidst a few small scattered clouds that gleamed themselves with the moonlight. The dark ocean sparkled with that same soft moon-glow, and reflected the dimly lit clouds in shimmers.

This was it, Mouse thought, the most romantic and utterly unsurpassable fuck of her entire life. Her brother was taking her on a scenic, secluded beach, filling her, possessing her, and not letting her go.

His fingers found her nipples again with his marvelous hands. His touch had been gentle and exploring at first, but now it was firm, almost rough, as he lost himself in his passions. She loved that, when his large hands completely encompassed her sweet, little tits, when his grip was firm, almost harsh, as if he were subduing her, restraining her, keeping her only for himself, keeping the rest of the world away from her body. She loved being his. She also loved knowing that her body could make him lose control, that her sedate, reserved, even timid brother could go wild, just for her, when she wanted.

Mona knew how to fuck on a beach. She had refused to let sand get painfully in where it didn't belong. That was the smart, worldly wise part of Mouse taking over, at the beginning. So Michael lay on his back with his feet just at the edges of the incoming waves, letting them wash up against his ankles before receding. She lay on her back on top of him. First she let her mouth explore and tease his neck, ears and mouth while his hands caressed her aimlessly. They giggled and kissed and looked at the stars. He fondled her while they talked about nothing, and tender things and dirty things.

After a while, tiny, little Mona had settled back on the chest of her giant of a brother, looking up at the beautiful night sky. She slipped her pussy onto his wonderful cock, slowly, lovingly, taking him at first only bit by bit, wiggling her way down, relishing the sensation of every fresh touch that his cock head found inside of her. She pretended that it was touching her there for the very first time, that he was the first man to ever enter her, and that every sensation was fresh and new.

He had artfully peeled her florescent green bathing suit aside. It was a wickedly skimpy affair, the kind you can get away with in Mexico, what they call a "slingshot thong". It left her ass and hips completely exposed, the suit itself just covering the anus, with two strands of cloth that came up the front from her crotch, widening just enough to cover her nipples, no more, leaving most of the flesh and curves of her pert, round tits exposed, inside and outside. It then looped around her neck and rejoined to stretch down her back into the crack of her adorable ass.

She'd had to shave her pussy clean to wear it, except for a narrow strip she left purposely so that Michael, and everyone else, could just see it peeking out above the fabric "V". That swimsuit let her brother, and all of the men at the resort, see almost everything and spend all day wishing they could see more. Michael didn't like having his little sister "eye raped" all day. He wanted her to cover up, or to wear something more conventional. It was sweet. She'd told him she wanted them to ogle her, to lust after her, and she wanted Michael to think about the fact that while they looked, only he could touch, only her loving big brother could touch.

And now that was just what he was doing, with complete abandon. She'd left the suit on, but he'd pulled it aside, exposing her nipples to the moonlight and letting his massive hands cup and squeeze and pinch and kneed her breasts and nipples. And they'd both eagerly pushed the fabric aside at her pussy, letting his sturdy cock invade her delightfully.

Another wave tickled their legs, higher and further now than when they'd first started, as the tide came in. And again her lover's hips lifted them both forcefully off of the sand, plunging his cock in to the hilt. Mouse screamed this time without restraint, "Oh, God, Michael! Oh, God, your big brother cock is so good, Michael, so fucking good in me!"

As she howled the words at the empty sky, a small part of her really hoped that they'd moved far enough down the beach that no one would hear her, because now that she'd started, she couldn't stop. She was starting to come now in fits, with brief, recurring little orgasms, and she was going to feel and scream her love for her brother with every thrust, and her climaxes would be stronger and louder each time. And he was obviously going to keep it up for quite a while longer.

Michael's muscles relaxed, lowering them back down to the sandy beach. As the waves and his cock and the sensation receded again, just a bit, she found some room for more coherent thought.

"I love you, Michael," she breathed into his cheek. She planted a quick kiss on the stubble beneath his chin, then let her eyes wander over his face, drinking it in. He was eleven years her senior, so much older and so mature. The beginnings of crows feet showed around the edges of his eyes, and more than an occasional gray hair speckled the growing stubble on his chin. She loved that.

He was so familiar to her, not just because he was her brother, or because they now spent so much time together, so closely. She could see her own face hidden in his. It was like looking in a mirror, looking at herself as she would be were she born a six foot tall ogre of a man, instead of a five foot tall nymph of a woman.

And then his cock lifted and filled her again.

"Oh, God, I love you Michael! I love you, I love you, I love your cock, your brother cock!" she screamed.

Mouse did adore his cock, almost as much as his hands and his smile and his eyes. She adored all of him, and she loved reminding them both of their incestuous relationship with each other. It made their love making special. It made their fucking right, because the world said it was wrong, but they both wanted it so badly that they did it anyway, willfully, joyfully, wickedly.

"I love you too, Mouse," he exhaled into her ear as he subsided again.

"Will you marry me?" he asked tenderly, unexpectedly.

Mouse hesitated, panicked, then his cock lifted her again off the sand and into the sky. Yes, she screamed in her head. Yes, yes, she would marry him, she'd be his wife and his sister and she'd fuck him like this every night, he would fill her every night. But she bit her tongue, she bit back the answer, and she moaned and squealed wordlessly instead.

His cock abandoned her again, not completely, but still too much. She felt a sudden loss, an emptiness, a loneliness, and quickly moved her hands to his, pressing them hard against her breasts, making sure he still held her tightly. She felt the ring on her left hand touch the ring on his, gold on cold gold. Her eyes opened wide to stare up at the star filled sky. Ask me again, she thought, ask me again and I'll say yes.

His hands slid down, leaving her breasts to the moonlight, tracing a gentle, sinuous path across her ribs, across the taught muscles of her abdomen, then further still. The sensation grew, not quite a tingling, but a pleasant, spreading burn. It radiated from his fingertips, wherever they went, expanding further out the closer he got to her hot, wet, tortured slit. Then one finger, one thick, strong finger, found her clitoris and traced a series of quick, tight circles around it. Mouse inhaled sharply.

She clenched her teeth as Michael took the swell of her clitoris between his thumb and finger and squeezed and massaged it like he had her nipples. He pressed, and rubbed and circled all at once, sparking a growing thrill. His other hand gently caressed the crease between her thighs and groin, first one side, then the other, while that one magical finger and thumb tormented and teased the center of all her pleasures.

Then she was rising into the air, up to the stars, as he lifted them both again, and her cunt was deliciously, achingly filled. His cock stretched and skewered her, tickling the moist, soft flesh deep inside her. Another scream escaped her throat, a long, piercing animal cry.

"Please marry me, Mouse, please," he begged her, but in a voice of deep command.

Yes, she thought again. Yes, she would, she would. But she still didn't say it. She couldn't say it. Her nerves knew she wanted to, her body knew. Her cunt muscles clenched, and she drew her thighs together, squeezing his cock tightly, holding him inside her. She wouldn't let him go, she wouldn't let him leave her again.

But she was too excited, too wet, too slippery with cum. As he lowered his ass to the sand, as the next wave slipped back into the ocean, his cock left her again, not all the way, but again too much. She needed all of him.

"Mouse, please. You are so beautiful," he whispered. "You make me feel so happy, so alive."

She wanted to, Mouse screamed in her head. Yes, that's what she wanted, to make him happy, she'd do it to make him happy, she'd do anything to make him happy. Let her make him happy. Ask her again, she thought, please, ask again. She'd say it this time. She would.

She became conscious of his fingers once more. They played her like an instrument, stroking a gentle beat across her clitoris. His second hand moistened its fingers in her wet cunt, then moved up to take the other's place, rubbing her throbbing clit with her own slick cum. The first hand skated back up her body, quickly, to rashly grab one breast. She felt the wide tips of his fingers pressing hard against the ribs around her breast, while his broad palm pushed her nipple down into the flesh of her tit.

And then the sky fell on her and his cock was in her again, impaling her, ripping her, growing and jerking inside of her. She felt him come then, she felt him emptying an ocean of cum into her cunt. She bucked and screamed, writhing from side to side, pushing her nipples and clit hard against his restraining hands, grinding her pussy hard onto his cock, milking him, draining him and herself.

"Oh, sweet brother," she wailed, "make your little sister's cunt love your cock, make it, make her, make me..."

Her world began to spin and fade and explode all at once. The feeling began where his wet hand was touching her, near where he entered her. From there it spread in waves, taking over, consuming every inch of flesh, racing through every nerve in her body, devouring all of her awareness and reducing it to just that one sensation, just that one overwhelming sensation, beginning where he filled her. She knew she was screaming, but she couldn't hear it, she couldn't hear or see or smell or taste, she could only feel that one overpowering blaze throughout her body.

The feeling lasted and lasted, raging beneath a cold, bright, heedless moon, thundering beside an endlessly lapping, disinterested sea. At the end, her body trembled uncontrollably in one short, final fit. Afterward, she was left panting, feeling his girth beneath her, his sweat on her back, his hefty arms tightly wound around her delicate frame, keeping her from the world. She stared up at the empty night sky, confused by dueling emotions of fear and security, and contentment and loss, and balance and chaos.

But he hadn't asked again.

<8 Arrangements

They were both reading, he a copy of Sports Illustrated, she a trashy romance novel, surviving a cold Wednesday blizzard by staying indoors. Michael sat up on the couch, while Mouse half reclined, nestled back against his chest like he was her own enormous, living cushion. She felt warm and soft against him. Her hair offered the faint scent of tangerine. Michael paused to admire the slow rise and fall of her breasts, with the outline of her nipples just visible through her bra. He tried yet again to return to reading an article on college basketball.

This was his third trip to visit her in a few short months. Perhaps they were really pushing things with their family. It might be too much, too soon. But for now their parents and older sister seemed to mostly accept that Michael suddenly had a lot of work to do in Chicago, a welcome happenstance that maybe would bring Michael and Mouse closer together and stop their bickering. Big sister Melanie might have suspicions, but just that, nothing more.

If they only knew.

They both had wasted much of Michael's first visit, or at least Mouse had. She had panicked, then, about her friends seeing him with her, and about anyone realizing he was both her brother and her lover. Before he had arrived, they had talked about being openly affectionate in public there, where no one knew them both. They talked about acting like boyfriend and girlfriend instead of brother and sister. But when the time came Mouse wasn't the bold, wildly free spirit they both expected her to be. She felt cornered and more cautious on her home turf, in her own environs, around her own friends. It wasn't as easy as she'd thought.

The second trip was better, much better. They touched and kissed and made love, and mingled with her friends at bars and parties. They were generally seen out and about together, freely holding hands, flirting, kissing and, everyone could guess, fucking every chance they got. No one here knew they were siblings.

This time around, this third trip, was supposed to be more about being comfortable with each other. They didn't have to touch in public any more just for the thrill. They didn't have to ogle and rape each other at every opportunity to satisfy decades of curbed and shackled forbidden lust. It was more relaxed, more natural, more content. They were like old lovers, and in many ways more like brother and sister than they'd ever been.

He'd flown in the night before, just beating the storm. Presumably he was here on business, and then leaving for a vacation abroad. In fact, he was using vacation time for the entire trip, not working at all, and he wasn't going anywhere. He was staying right here with his beautiful, sexy baby sister for twelve fantastic days.

Michael looked around the room. There were some pictures of he and Mouse scattered about, mostly pictures from their recent visits with each other. Actually, there were quite a few of them, he noticed. There were pictures of them together everywhere, on the walls, on end tables, on the window sill. There was one from their dinner the first night of his first visit. Next to that was one of them posing playfully at the zoo. In yet another they stood together, arm in arm, soaking wet in the lobby of her building after a sudden downpour. They posed at the lakefront. They cuddled in her apartment, much as they were doing now.

There were a handful of others, too. One from her college days, when he had been assigned by their parents to pick her up and help her get home. She looked so young then, still a kid to him. There was also a recent one with their whole family, from their parent's anniversary party, the night he had first... taken her.

He looked at that one and realized with a shock that even there they looked like a couple. She was right beside him, close to him, almost but not quite nestled under his arm. He hadn't noticed it at the time. He'd been so angry with her that night, as usual. The thought had never crossed his mind that she felt that way about him. But even then, before he had even kissed her, she was partly his, or trying to be. He just never knew it.

He glanced out the window. The snow was falling as if a new ice age had begun. No, falling was too gentle a word. The snow plummeted and whipped, both at once, or so Michael felt. He'd never seen snow racing in several directions at once. Mouse said it was just typical Chicago winter weather, and shrugged it off.

So here they were, trapped inside. Normally, that would have been license to engage in wild carnal expressions of their incestuous lust, but they were utterly spent from the previous evening, his first with her in a month. And then again near dawn. And then again, after breakfast.

So here they were, just being a couple.

Mouse broke the silence abruptly.

"Let's play a game."

"That's what we always do, play games, isn't it?" he chided, still looking out the window at the blowing snow.

Mouse got up enough to turn and pound his chest with a hard thump, then spun back into her slouch.

"Ouch."

"Silence, jerk. I want to play a game," she said, adopting the tone of a spoiled brat.

"This isn't going to be one of those kinky peeing fetishes you've mentioned, is it?" he asked.

She spun and hit him again, harder. "No, ick. That's disgusting."

"Said the incestuous whore."

"Yes, 'said the cock-loving incestuous and yet virtuous whore'," she corrected.

She smiled at him. He knew instinctively what she wanted. He obediently kissed her forehead lightly.

"Okay, I'm in," he said. He felt an energy rising in him. Part of him was stirring, aroused by her typically dirty, flirtatious words. "Go on."

"Let's pretend to get married."

"Meaning what?"

"I bought a wedding gown at a garage sale last month," Mouse said, trying to make it sound like an everyday thing that anyone might do.

"You didn't."

"Did. It's hot. It wasn't at first, but I saw the potential and made some alterations. It's now maybe a bit too risque to wear at a real wedding. I guess I sort of ruined it that way."

"So you want me to marry my sister."

"Yes."

"In a hot wedding gown."

"Yes."

"In a dress that someone else has already worn for a real wedding."

"Hmmmm, I hadn't thought about that. I like that. I hope they fucked with it on," she said.

"You would. Don't I have to propose first?"

"Yes, of course."

"What if you say no?"

She laughed at him, so he joined in.

"Always the insecure one, aren't you?" she said.

Michael slid off the couch onto one knee, his face clouding with a serious intensity. He took one of Mouse's tiny hands in both of his. His thick palms and fingers completely smothered her own far more delicate fingers. Her hands were thin and small, almost childlike, their maturity only betrayed by the ruby red polish with little black hearts that she'd applied to the longish nails.

"Will you marry me?" he asked sweetly.

"No," she replied, completely without hesitation.

"Mouse!"

"Well, that's not right. You have to play by the rules. You don't have an engagement ring, there's no expensive dinner, you haven't done anything to make yourself more attractive. You can't just blurt it out. It can't be that easy. I'm no cheap slut."

"Yes, you are, a cheap incestuous slut, I know it for a fact. But okay. What are the rules of this game?"

"You do what I tell you, when I tell you, and when you don't I make fun of you and correct you and have loads of fun doing it, then you do it again, correctly. It's all at your expense, for my pleasure," she said with a satisfied smirk.

"Like I said, that's all we do is play games! This is just like all the others," he protested.