Mouse B. 06

Book 6: Mouse Trapped

Chapter 1

The "Mouse" tales are a wild, erotic, incestuous, romantic fantasy. It's not meant to be entirely realistic, and it's not always meant to be arousing. The sex can be hot, while the events enveloping the sex acts can be wildly unrealistic, but the interactions are also meant, on some level, to be real. The real world feelings that make incest a difficult act to pursue, the guilt and reluctance and hesitation, often intrude on the otherwise shameless desires of the characters.

So, if you are looking for an involved story and something intricate to chew on, while maybe getting a little bit hot and bothered, please read on. If you haven't read the first books, you can start here easily enough and then go back, but this book will mean more if you start from the beginning.

If, on the other hand, you are looking for a raw, pleasing release through unrestrained, intensely sexual writing, then you should probably move on to something else. This story is likely to disappoint you.

— The Author

<8 Snacks

"Honey, where the hell is my travel razor?"

"I don't know. When did you have it last?"

"Whenever I went some where. When the hell was that?"

"I don't know. Ages ago. Where did you usually pack it?"

The shouting voices floated into the room from a distance, as Mouse struggled to silence herself, while her dear brother Michael tortured her clit with his loving, powerful, talented tongue. At times, his whole, large mouth would clamp down around her clit, sucking hard on it and all of the tender flesh around it. A thick, masculine finger would invade her, adding it's presence to her delight, pressing rhythmically on the slickly wet, sensitive flesh inside and behind her clit.

Then his tongue would descend on her, making rapid, loving circles around her large, swollen clitoris. Whenever Michael did that, Mouse bit back hard on her lip, fighting back a high pitched yelp. It usually came out anyway. It did this time, much more loudly than she could afford.

"Sh. Mom and Dad will hear you," Michael scolded.

Mouse put one hand behind his bald head, pulling him forward, hard against her, forcing his mouth back onto his sister's clean shaven cunt. He hummed appreciatively into her. She rewarded him with a soft laugh.

"That's it, Big Brother. Make me come before Mom and Dad find us, before they find out what you do to your sweet little sister."

Michael attacked her with renewed vigor. Mouse succeeded in stifling most of the yelp this time. She felt tingles and warmth and shocks and a thousand other sensations under his assault. She shuddered momentarily with what might have been a mini orgasm, or perhaps just her body warning her that something bigger was coming.

Mouse squeezed her eyes tightly shut, focusing on the feel of her brother worshiping her, and her body.

"Where is the small bag? I can't find it. I bet the razor is there."

"So go look for it, you big lunk. I'm busy. I can't decide which dresses I should bring. Do you still like the red one?"

Mouse moved one foot into the kitchen sink, spreading her legs wider for her lover. The other dangled over the edge of the countertop, the foot dangling in the air above the floor. Michael's hands held her thighs firmly, keeping her pinned in place, until one moved to simultaneously press two thick fingers into her already slick pussy and ass, one each.

The dual penetration shot a blast of fire through her belly, up into her breasts and down into her legs. She bucked her hips, forward and back, moving Michael inside her, doubling and tripling the strength of the sensations, pushing her closer and closer to a special, concentrated release that only Michael's tongue and mouth had ever given her.

Fighting down what would certainly be a long, low growl, she leaned quickly back, banging her head with a clunk on the edge of the cabinet above the counter. She barely noticed the pain, but it forced a sound from her, not a mere growl, but a long, soft, high pitched squeal. Once it started, she couldn't stop it.

"You little slut," Michael said into her cunt, barely removing his lips from her to form the words.

Mouse laughed again, a light, high pitched, musical sound.

"Fuck me, Michael."

"No."

"Please, Michael. Fuck your sweet baby sister."

"No. Mom and Dad will catch us. With my pants down."

Mouse laughed again. Surrendering to his logic, she brought her own hands up to knead her breasts through her blouse. She wanted so badly to be naked, to get Michael naked with her, but that would have to wait until her parents were safely on the plane.

As it was, what they were doing was beyond crazy. When she'd started to tease Michael, she never expected him to attack her. She was sure he'd panic, and she'd have fun ridiculing him for his timidity, and torturing him by trying to push things further than he wanted to go.

His reaction shocked her, and was pleasing her very, very much.

The phone rang.

"Honey, can you get that?"

"What? No, I'm in the attic. You get it."

"I can't. Mouse? Mouse? Michael? Will one of you get that? Do something useful, please."

Mouse leaned, trying to stretch across the countertop, struggling to reach the phone at the far end. Michael changed positions, standing and turning his head to attack her from another angle, letting her lie down along the length of the counter as she grabbed the receiver. He obviously wasn't stopping for anything.

"Hello?"

Mouse tried to make her voice sound normal, but to her it came out squeakily high, like an excited little girl's, which is exactly how she felt.

"Mouse? It's Mel. Are they ready to leave yet?"

Mouse issued a short, stuttering moan into the phone as Michael's large, handsome hands invaded her again, accompanied this time by his thick, strong, probing tongue.

"What the hell was that?"

"Michael, stop, it's Mel," Mouse whispered hoarsely across to him.

She relaxed on the countertop, panting softly, as Michael eased off, choosing instead to run his marvelous hands up and down her bare legs, then slipping one up under her skirt to hold her ass. His tongue was now finding the gaps in the front of her buttoned up blouse, sneakily trying to taste her flesh there.

"Go on, Mel. Sorry."

"What the fuck are you two doing? Are Mom and Dad still there?"

"Yeah, they're upstairs packing. Don't worry about it. What do you want?"

"Tell her you're a little slut who just couldn't wait," Michael growled into her belly, while expertly slipping two more fingers into her trembling cunt.

Mouse squinted her eyes shut and bit her lip, barely holding back the building yelp, this time.

"Mouse? What the hell are you and Michael doing? They're still there, and you two are already going at it?"

"Don't worry, Mel, Michael's just playing. We'll hear them long before they get downstairs, if they ever get organized enough to do it."

Mouse put a thumb over the receiver's microphone to talk to Michael.

"Stop it, just for five seconds, let me deal with Mel."

Michael grinned back up at her, his chin wet and glistening with her juices, as he continued moving his fingers inside of her. Almost against her will, Mouse gyrated her hips, helping him to move as she wanted.

"Make it quick, Mel."

"I just wanted to know if you two wanted to go out to dinner, after they leave. We could meet somewhere after you drop them at the airport. Or you could just come here."

"Um, maybe, I don't know. We'll probably want to be alone. Soon."

"Yeah, no surprise. Well, look, give me a call if you want to meet and we'll make plans. If you two are sated, that is. I don't need you two going at it with my family around."

"Mouse?" her mother called. The voice was louder, drifting in from someplace much closer than anywhere upstairs.

In a panic, Michael shot up to grab a kitchen towel from near the sink, using it to wipe his face dry. Mouse scrambled off of the countertop. She almost fell, but Michael's strong hand shot out to grab her upper arm, easing her down. In her excited state, the strength in his grip shot bolts of pleasure throughout her. He was so strong compared to her diminutive frame.

Mouse frantically tugged her denim skirt down, trying to straighten it, and her blouse, trying to hide the disheveled clues to their impropriety.

Their mother coasted into the room as they each fought back matching blushes.

"Mouse. Michael. What the hell are you doing? I need help, here. Who's on the phone?"

Mouse turned the phone off, hanging up on Mel, before thrusting the phone down into the cradle. It gave her an excuse to turn her back on her mother, to compose herself. Michael had virtually run to the refrigerator, to open the door, looking for something.

"It was just Mel, calling to see if you'd left."

"Well, call her back and tell her to come over. The two of you are no help at all."

"We'll help. We were just... arguing."

Michael came out of the refrigerator with a can of ginger ale, as their mother rolled her eyes at Mouse.

"Dear God, don't you two ever stop? Alright, let's get to the airport so you two can separate. Michael can go home and you can come back here and have the run of the whole place all to yourself. I still don't know what you're going to do to keep busy for two whole weeks."

Mouse grinned back at Michael.

"I'll manage, I'm sure."

<8 More Snacks

Mouse melted into Michael's arms, into his chest and his thighs and his mouth. His powerful arms held her tightly, his hands splayed against her back, pressing her firmly, irresistibly against him. Her entire existence melded into his lips as he took her through them, body and soul.

Mouse greatly resented having their clothing separating her from Michael, even though, during the kiss, it felt as if they had none, that there was nothing between them at all.

"Did you remember the blue bag? Where's the blue bag? Is it there already?"

"I don't know, I didn't put it in. Where the hell is Michael? I thought he was going to help."

Mouse tried to fall away, then, not to pull away, but at least to stop her own insistent part in their contact. Michael didn't let her. She went limp in his arms, but he still held her firmly, his mouth moving feverishly against and inside of hers.

Eventually she pressed against his chest, not hard. She couldn't make herself actually push him away, but she hinted.

He released her with a sigh, while Mouse herself experienced a moment of extreme emptiness at the loss of the sensual contact.

"I'm here, Dad. I've got the blue bag with me. Just give me a moment," Michael yelled out.

He stared into her eyes the whole time he spoke, as if his voice were elsewhere and else-when, belonging to someone else, but his body and spirit were here and here alone. Mouse lifted up on tip toes to plant a last kiss on him. He bent his head down to offer his lips, but she teasingly denied him, planting a quick peck on his chin instead.

Despite her playful desire to torment him, her lips had to linger, reveling in the warm, scratchy feel of his already growing whiskers. She paused a moment, considering how they would feel in a few more days. She'd begged him not to shave too often while their she was here.

"Michael! Come on, I want that bag."

Michael scowled, barely taking his eyes from Mouse's, as he picked up the suitcase, along with two others, and headed out into the hall, down the stairs, and to the car.

Mouse watched his hulking form, struggling but still silently handling his burden, as he left her alone, for the moment. She glanced around her parent's bedroom, on night stands and the dresser top, on the bed and the closet floor, looking for anything else, anything left behind.

There was nothing. It was done. Soon they would be gone, out of the country, and her sweet brother Michael would be hers and hers alone, to play with for two glorious weeks, however she pleased, in their childhood home.

* * *

The elderly couple disappeared down the long, street-wide walkway, just beyond the security station. They looked embarrassingly like typical American tourists, in khaki shorts and colorful shirts and broad brimmed hats, and all the more amusing because their father's height and girth so dwarfed their mother's dainty presence. Mouse had said it was comical, while Mom shushed her and told her not to be fresh.

At a distance, their mother stopped to wave at them, smiling broadly, just before they disappeared around a last corner, with their father's strong arm reaching back to grab her and hurry her along. For a moment, they were a vision to Michael of how he and Mouse might look a quarter century from now, if the world would allow it.

"Well, that's that," Michael said.

"I thought we'd never be alone."

"We're not alone, yet."

Mouse's warm, dark eyes twinkled up at him, above a bright, delightful smile. Michael dragged his attention from her eyes, to her white teeth, to her lips. His hands settled on her waist. It was so narrow, her whole body was so tiny, he felt like she was a wisp of tissue, a paper doll in his big, clumsy hands.

Her pulled her close, and up. Without thinking he lowered his mouth to hers, shocking her with a passionate, incestuous kiss right there, in the airport, amidst a thick, bustling, buzzing crowd of travelers.

Mouse fought him for a moment, then pleasingly poured herself into him, adding her own energy and excitement and enthusiasm to their kiss. Michael felt his body awash in a searing heat. This was the most sinful thing he'd ever done, passionately kissing his sister in front of a crowd of strangers.

Anyone he knew could be here. Anyone here might recognize them another time, in another place, saying just the wrong, incriminating thing in front of someone they did know, who knew who they were, and what they never should be doing. The feeling of wickedness and hedonistic delight was intoxicating. He let the kiss last a moment longer, then firmly pushed her away and down.

As she fell back to her feet, he soaked himself in the pleasant, lost expression on her face. Her long dark lashes rested at the ends of calmly closed lids, above half parted glossy lips, her breathing shallow, as if she were sleeping both restfully and restlessly, troubled only by exciting, pleasant dreams.

Her eyes snapped open to look lovingly, and lustily, into his. Around him, he could sense a few people staring, but most just continued on their busy ways, hurried and heedless.

"Wow."

Michael grinned at her in response.

"Do it again, Michael."

"Come on, let's get home."

"No. Do it again, now, or I'll do it to you, after I yell 'I love you, Big Brother," at the top of my lungs."

Michael glanced around him, nervously, now. Even that one statement, spoken aloud, if privately, was further than he was willing to go. It was unlikely that anyone here knew them, so he'd taken a wild, careless risk for Mouse's pleasure, tickling into life her own natural, wicked sense of adventure. But now, his own inherent timidity took over.

"Kiss me, Big Brother. Do it. Kiss me or I'll scream it."

After two more furtive glances, Michael surrendered, taking her into his arms to kiss his amazing little sister again, his wonderful, forbidden lover, before an oblivious crowd, and before soon taking her home to live for two weeks doing all of the things they wish they had done in previous, long gone and lost years and situations.

* * *

"How is the job search going?"

Michael watched Dan follow the question by shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes, brown with gravy, onto a fork, then aim it at his open mouth. He had never liked the way Dan ate.

"Okay. Not great. Things need to pick up a bit in the market, first, I think. I don't want just anything. I'm not going to settle."

"What made you decide it was time to go to Chicago? All of Mona's talk of an adventurous social life there?"

Dan was just about the only one that used Mouse's given name, Mona.

Michael smiled vacuously at him, wondering if the question was a baited trap. He had no idea what Melanie might or might not have told her husband behind closed doors. She couldn't have told him the truth about Mouse and Michael, but what fabrications and half truths she had used to explain their behavior were a mystery to Michael. He hesitated, troubled by the thought of saying the wrong thing.

"No, no, it's just that now that I've been traveling there for business, I realized what a small world I'm trapped in. There are more opportunities out there. Bigger things."

"And more women?" Mouse asked with a teasing, mock innocence.

"Yes, I'm more likely to meet a loving, responsible, respectable companion there," Michael said staidly into his plate, unable to resist the backhanded dig. He moved the cut up pieces of steak around on his plate with his fork, playing with his food like a child, impatiently wishing they had never come here. He wanted to be alone with her.

"Well, keep us up to date," Melanie said, rising to reach into the center of the table to take the bottle of wine. "A refill for anyone?"

"I will, thanks," Mouse said.

Michael wanted to tell her she'd had enough, but held back. He noticed that Melanie herself was sticking to water. She didn't even allow herself a glass of wine with dinner, since her recent lapses.

"I think you've had enough, Mouse. We don't need you getting crazy," he said, for the fun of it, as Melanie was pouring into her glass.

Mouse stuck her tongue out at him, then pushed her already refilled glass back at Melanie, silently and rebelliously demanding even more.

All in all, the evening wasn't going too badly. He resented the delay in being alone with Mouse, but, that aside, it was rather fun to be fighting with her again in front of Dan and Melanie. It had a nice feel to it.

* * *

Mouse felt the bulge in Michael's pants pressing invasively against her own crotch, as his hands feverishly kneaded her ass while pulling her hips hard against his own. His lips were a reckless storm all over her own, like a hurricane whipping wind and water over a small, isolated island.

"Good God."

Michael and Mouse both quickly broke the kiss, spinning their heads in mirrored unison to stare at their sister.

"Dan is right out there. He could have walked in instead of me. Jesus."

Mouse smiled at Michael, laughing inside at him at the look of shame he bore after Melanie's reproach. She lifted herself on tiptoes to kiss him hungrily again, quickly, briefly, but right in front of their big sister, and long enough to push her tongue past his resisting lips and into his mouth.

"Mouse."

Mouse stared at Melanie in silence, then stuck her tongue out at her childishly. Melanie glared at them both with a blazing look, saying no more, just glaring, as if that look were branding the words "incestuous sinners" into their foreheads.

Mouse basked in it.

She took Michael's hand, leading him out of the kitchen and back into the dining room.

"Come on, Big Brother. Let's get some more dishes for Melanie to wash."

Melanie maintained her stare as her little sister marched past her, with Michael in tow.

"I knew this house sitting arrangement was going to be a disaster," Melanie said in a husky, deep throated whisper, as they passed.

"Define 'disaster,'" Mouse said, with her back to Melanie, as she glided out of the room.

* * *

The drive home was easy and quiet and comfortable. The back roads were empty of traffic, while the moon was so bright Michael almost felt he didn't need headlights. The surrounding trees shown with a ghostly silver glow, casting even more ghostly looking shadows across the black tarred road.

Michael lied to himself that it was the beauty of the evening, with Mouse nuzzled against his shoulder as he drove, that kept his speed down. Mouse must have been listening to his thoughts.