Disclaimer: First of all, these characters are all FICTIONAL, though the experiences are based on actual events. Second, everyone is over 18.
I remember the first time I fucked my brother.
Well, don't get too excited. Mark is my STEP-brother, and to be fair to us, we knew each other before my dad met his mom and decided to get horny and fall in love. In fact, I've known Mark since third grade, when he sat next to me in Mrs. Houlihan's class. He used to reach under the table and pinch my thigh during our spelling tests, and I was the one to get in trouble for talking in class when I would hiss at him to stop. He also chased me on the playground, and I never would have admitted that I liked it. He was beautiful, even then, with light brown hair that fell casually into his bright blue eyes, a head taller than any of the other boys, and lean. There was something about him that attracted me even then, but I would shout at him to stop chasing me even as my heart thudded in my chest, begging him to keep on. I loved being the object of his attention.
I still do.
Once, at our eighth-grade graduation party, I watched him get to second base with Jenny Marshall in the back row of the movie theater, and I remember turning so red with jealousy that my friend Mandy actually suggested we go outside and get some air. Mark and I had a strange relationship. The attraction was always mutual, and everyone knew it, but we never actually went out. I'm not really sure why, other than the timing was never right. He was seeing Jenny, and when they broke up, I was on a crusade to make sure he knew I was NOT into him, and was dating Devin Shoals. When I'd had enough of Devin, Mark was dating someone else, and so on all the way to our senior year of high school.
That's when Dad finally met Amy Harper, Mark's mom. They started dating... or, more accurately, going at it like rabbits in the room down the hall from me. I guess when you are divorced and haven't seen the inside of a pair of panties in fifteen years, it gets to you. Anyway, they got engaged over Christmas break that year, and next thing you know, Amy and Mark were moving in. Imagine. The hottest guy in school, the star quarterback on the football team with a full athletic scholarship to any university he wanted, and my lifetime crush was moving into the bedroom next to mine.
Dad and Amy decided to get married the weekend before our spring break, which meant that we'd be alone all week while they were on their honeymoon in Hawaii. Mark and I were both supposed to be going to Florida for the week, on different trips with different friends, but as luck would have it, the day before the wedding we saw a weather forecast that made us change our minds, or maybe we both just knew we'd have a better time at home.
The wedding went by in a whirlwind, and the parents took off immediately after the reception to make their flight in Atlanta. Mark and I corralled all the gifts and loaded them in the back of his 4-runner to take them home. At long last I climbed into the passenger seat next to him and immediately dropped the seat back, as if I were going to take a nap.
"I don't think so, Taylor. You don't get to nap if I don't."
"You can nap when we get home," I said, fully aware that my knee-length satin bridesmaid dress had slithered a little higher up my thighs than was entirely appropriate. This was our game, though: we pretended not to be interested, all the while doing everything we could to drive one another crazy. I felt his gaze on my legs for a moment before he cranked the car.
"C'mon sis," he said, "Stay up with me and keep me company."
"Mmph," I mumbled, sitting back up again. My dress slid up another inch or two, just barely covering the lacy front of my thong. I wondered if he noticed, but he just put the car in drive, and off we went. It was a forty-five minute drive back to the house, and we didn't really talk much. I know that my mind was filled with impure thoughts, but obviously I can't speak for him. When we finally pulled into the driveway, he shut the car off and looked over at me.
"What do you think, Tay? Unload tomorrow?" I nodded in agreement and led him into the house, where we paused in the living room, unsure of what to do now.
"I guess I'll go change." I said, and turned towards the stairs. Mark caught my wrist and pulled me back.
"No, don't change."
It surprised me a little, and I just frowned at him.
"Why the hell not?" I asked, aware of his hand still wrapped around mine. It was then that he turned a little red, and I realized he hadn't really meant to say it quite that way.
"Well... you just... look nice." There went my blood heating up, I wondered if he could feel it through my skin. "It doesn't look uncomfortable."
I glanced down at the black satin sheath. I wasn't wearing a bra, and my nipples – fully aroused just by being in this situation with him – were poking at the thin material. I actually thought the spaghetti straps might snap under the strain.
"It isn't." I said, and relaxed the distance between us. "What do you want to do?"
"Uhh," he stammered. I was taking far too much joy from this, I knew, but it was so nice to see him be a little self-conscious for a change. "How about we just hang out in here... watch TV for a while? Maybe we can get that nap."
"Okay." I said, pulling off my shoes when he finally let go of my wrist. I followed him around the couch, but when he sat down at one end, I purposely sat at the other. I was enjoying the feeling of torturing him and wanted it to last as long as possible, so I curled my legs up under me in such a way that I knew my dress would be riding up where he could possibly see all the way up to my hip. He just frowned and turned on the television, propping his left arm up on the back of the couch.
Glancing over out of the corner of my eye, I could see the front of his pants was bulging. After a few minutes, he looked pointedly at me.
"You're not going to get a very good nap that way, Taylor. Why don't you stretch out?" And he patted his lap as an invitation. Smiling, I did stretch out, but instead of laying my head down by his dick, which I so very badly wanted to do, I planted my feet there instead, laying my head on the armrest. Mark sighed.
"That is not exactly what I meant." He said.
"I know, but this way you can rub my feet. They're oh so tired." I grinned, and he reluctantly started rubbing.
I think I actually did almost doze off. His hands were magic on my aching feet and I really was tired, but just when I was about to fall asleep, I noticed that with every stroke he moved just a little higher up my leg. Even though he was still rubbing below my knees, my skin tingled every time he reached new terrain, and I could feel myself getting wet, soaking my thong. I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me, so ever so gently, I moved my feet in his lap. Sure enough, my heel touched something hot and rock-hard, and he jumped a little. I felt him look at me quickly, as if afraid I would suddenly jump up in disgust (boys! So clueless), so I pretended to be sleeping and left my foot right where it was. Mark took a deep breath and kept rubbing, all the while moving up and up and up my legs.
The sensation of someone touching your skin ever closer to your very center is cruel like nothing else. I was so turned on that I felt sure my wetness would be pooling on the couch under me, and I wanted him to keep killing me slowly yet stop torturing me and fuck my brains out all at once. I knew better than to rush it, however, because it's only your first time with someone once.
After a few minutes – or possibly hours – of this, Mark's hand had reached the hem of my dress, which was actually positioned in such a way now that I was certain he could see my panties underneath. Involuntarily, I let out a moan, and I guess that was all the encouragement he needed to keep going. One finger, first, traced the crease between my leg and pussy, and again, involuntarily, my legs inched further apart to give him access. Two fingers, then, traced both creases, teasing me so much I could barely stand it. I made no more pretense of being asleep.
