Stepsister's Place

Chapter I

Protect

John

John felt her fingers caress his shaft slowly. His baggy white briefs stood taunt with his throbbing cock pointing towards his stepsister, Marie, who laid in his bed across from him. Their faces were only a foot apart, but they were completely shrouded in darkness in this bedroom.

He didn't move-he couldn't. He was afraid. Even though he was 20 years old, and she was his 18-year-old little sister, he was afraid. John feared how wrong this was.

Are we going to hell?

He thought.

He feared the unknown.

I'm a virgin, what if I do something wrong?

But most of all, he feared she would stop.

Marie's hand reverse wrapped around his throbbing shaft and stroked him up and down as best she could. She wore just a long thin white gown. His right hand cupped her cheek as my left hand rested on her breasts. Slowly, as her hand became more comfortable on his shaft, stroking him gently, John began to massage her left breast. Without a bra on, he could feel her full heavy breast as he gently squeezed and rubbed his thumb over her nipple.

"Ohmm..." Marie cood.

Marie pulled at the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down below his balls and John worried what she might think because he could feel how messy his cock is. But when she touched his bare cock to his surprise, Marie released a small high pitched moan as she panted.

"Ooooh..." she whispered.

Their father was still nowhere to be heard in his drunken tirade, but he could be outside John's room at any moment's notice. They must be quiet.

When Marie switched to a traditional grip and began to slowly rub his cock up and down. She was so delicate like she didn't want to hurt him but it felt so good. John raised his hips without thought and lowered to increase her contact and speed. Marie was panting and releasing squeals of pleasure as he pinched her nipple. She turned her lips into right palm and kissed and gently bit on the meat of his thumb as the pleasure of the moment was too great for her as it was for him.

His sister's grip tightened on his shaft as he pulled on her long white nightgown, lifting it up and exposing her bare naked body.

"Oh... god..." Marie gasped as John felt her firm, large breasts for the first time. Lifting and mashing them to her chest, John could feel her whole body trembling. She pumped her brother's cock faster. He could hear his sticky pre-cum squishing between her palm and his cock as she jerked him. with all their movement he was now only inches from her body. Chest to chest, the air between them was thick with heat from their panting and body heat. Curling his toes, John felt his cock stand tall and felt a feeling building inside him.

His sister's hand pumping faster and faster on his cock as he panted out a groan.

"Ohhh god," Marie moaned when he pinched her nipple. But her grip tightened on his cock as she stroked him faster and faster. Without thinking, John cupped the back of his sister's neck and pulled her in to kiss. Their lips met and she let out a small gasp of pain, and John recoiled, forgetting the wound on her lip. But it was Marie who pulled his face back to hers as she kissed him through the pain.

Their tongues swirled as her other hand pumped his cock wildly mashed between their bodies. He tasted her tongue and squeezed her nipple more making her scream a muffled moan into him. his body went rigid as he felt his cock and balls begin to seize like never before. Groaning into his sister's mouth, John's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he came hard. Marie pumped wildly on his cock as his semen was shot over her belly and belly button.

Marie kept jerking her brother the entire time as he pulled her tight to his body and kissed her so deeply. He didn't want to let her go. He didn't want the moment to end.

John

...One Hour Earlier...

The crash came again. Louder this time around. John immediately jolted awake at the interruption. He rubbed his eyes, trying to decipher what was happening before a loud bang came once again. He heard a loud grunt and some tumbling of furniture, it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. Every single sound was already familiar to him. He looked at the little clock on his bedside table and sighed.

Just like always.

This was the sixth time in a row that his father came home wasted in the middle of the night.

The items in the kitchen and sometimes the living room were always victims of his wrath whenever he came back in this condition. John didn't mind. If it wasn't the kitchen, it would be him.

Before his father remarried after his mother's death, he had been quite an abusive father and his horrible drinking habits had surfaced during that period.

To him, John was equivalent to a punching bag. He had always blamed him for his misfortunes and all the other terrible things.

As a kid, John had experienced the dreadful side of his father. His father's rough, clubbed hands were evidence of all the hard work that took place in his farmland, he would hit John. Muttering profanities and complaining about how his farm was the smallest in the community all because of him.

"I deserve more than this!" He would yell.

No, you don't,

John would think but never say aloud.

The action taking place in the kitchen right at that moment caused all the memories to come rushing in.

There was something he always did whenever episodes like this started to occur. Although he was a grown man now, that attitude didn't just seem to dissolve.

He thought as he gently stood up from his bed, grabbing a wooden chair from his table, he quietly walked to his bedroom door and placed the upper part of the wooden chair underneath the door handle to prevent his father from barging into the room in his drunken state. John felt like a child again doing so and not the 20-year-old man that he was.

He sat back on his bed again and laid on it without the covers this time, trying to figure out if he could fall asleep once again. A soft sob around the corner prevented him from doing so.

John stood from his bed again and looked around to see where the sound was coming from.

They lived on the farm on a large plot of land in Montana. Late at night it wasn't uncommon for animals of the night to venture close to the farmhouse. His father's house felt like a mansion when he was young. John and the other boys from neighboring farms would play hide and seek and tag the one day a month they were allowed to play. Now that he was grown and shared it with his adult stepsister and drunk of a father, it had become much smaller.

His window was closed to keep out the mosquitoes and insects of the night. Opening the window, he could hear the sound more clearly now. It sounded soft, like a weak, wounded animal.

He jutted his head out the window and looked sideways before looking down on the grass.

He almost missed her because of the way she hid underneath his window.

It was his younger stepsister, Marie. She sat on her hindquarters with her knees brought to her chest and her face tucked between her knees. The whimpers of her cries were soft and delicate. John didn't know what to do. Obviously, she wanted to be left alone or she would have knocked on his door or window. Maybe he should just close the window and go back to sleep?

Why is she outside? And why is she crying?

Moonlight gave her skin a ghostly white appearance and John realized the girl was wearing her nightgown. City folk wouldn't understand the primal danger that she potentially faced, but anyone who grew up in the backcountry of Montana knew predators roamed this land.

On the backside of their farmhouse about a hundred yards away was a large pond that was great for a refreshing dip on a hot day or fishing for smallmouth bass, channel catfish, and black crappie. But it also attracted predators. It wasn't uncommon to find grizzly bear tracks to and from the woods, not to mention the coyotes, wolves, and mountain lions that pester and hunt their chickens and cattle.

John knew he couldn't just leave his little sister outside. It wasn't safe.

Clearing his throat, Marie looked up to see John peering down at her. Tears streaked her clammy cheeks as her big brown eyes met his dazzling blue eyes. He had a guess about what happened, but he decided not to tread towards that path.

"Are you, um, are you okay?" he asked, dumbly.

She sniffled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I-"

There was a crash around the side of the house near the front porch and they both looked to see one of the wooden chairs from the porch be tossed into the front lawn. Their father's curses cut into the night as he neared the side of the house.

"Marie!" his father's gravel voice growled. "Marie, get yurs ass back heres!"

No words were exchanged between Marie and John after they heard his shouts. Marie scrambled to her feet and looked to where to run. Without thought, John extended his hand with earnest eyes. Marie's delicate hand took his and he pulled her inside his window as their father's voice neared.

"Marie, gods dammit!"

Marie had difficulty climbing her legs inside the raised window and his father's voice sent a spark of adrenaline down John's spine as the voice closing in reminded him of the pain of being beaten by copper piping and splintering rotted wood. John reached through the window and grabbed at his sister's backside to help her inside. One leg was in but the thin sheet of her gown floated high on her waist. When John tried to get her other leg inside, he felt his palm slide up her soft backside of her thigh beneath her butt, and his finger brushed something warm between her legs.

Marie hopped inside and John quickly closed the window and closed the curtains.

"Marie!" his voice boomed as his heavy footsteps fell on the grass in front of John's window. John and Marie both held their breath as they stared at another, silently willing their father to pass by unaware of their deception.

"Goddammit, yous bitch. Where are you?" his voice trailed away as it sounded as if he turned the corner around the rear of the house.

John exhaled with Marie as they both collected their thoughts.

"Why were you outside and by yourself at this time of the night too," John asked.

"Father." That one word she said was enough to make him understand.

With the window curtain closed his bedroom was pitch black. He found the lantern at his bedside and struck a match, lighting it. The warmth of the golden light shined across half of Marie's body. The half of her face he saw showed a sad girl with wetness drying on her cheek. Her pouting, pink lips looked expressionless at him. It was when she turned towards the light that he saw the rest.

The other side of her lip had a swollen bump on it with a small cut. Blood was smeared down on her chin and dried. He moved closer to her, touching her cheek to examine the wound.

"He did this to you." He said flatly. As if convincing himself.

She nodded and looked to the side.

He looked at her with pity in his eyes. "I didn't know..."

"What?" she asked softly.

"I didn't know he hit you, too," John looked down at his feet.

"Too?" Marie said, lowering herself so her eyes could meet his.

There was a long moment where recognition was exchanged between the two. A silent and depressing conversation of their shared abuse being put on the table before another.

The vulnerability John felt became too much to bear and his eyes looked for a distraction. He found her angelic white nightgown and saw the black dirt crumbles clinging to the backside of it.

"Your gown is covered in dirt," he said, clearing his throat. "It'll stain for sure."

Marie looked down at it as John tried to help clean her. Gently sweeping the dirt free from her hips and backside. She did the same with legs.

"Your floor," Marie worried, "we'll dirty your room."

A small smile cracked in the corner of John's lips, "it was never clean."

His room was spartan with a small wooden desk and chair, a nightstand table, bed, and an old wooden dresser that looked as though it was from the 1800s. Though most of the house, farm, and entire community could be confused for the 1800s. Though, it was 2021 the community that John had been raised in were a devout Christian religious group who believed that electricity was of the devil's doing. While Marie and her mother had joined the community when Marie was 10 years old, John had lived here his entire life. Sure, he knew of the outside world. On rare occasions he had to make trips to the nearest town 15 miles away to collect medicine and would see the latest cars, cellphones, and television running at Earl's pharmacy. But it was nothing he had ever used or needed before so none of it interested him much.

"I'm sorry. I'm-I should go. I'm in enough trouble as it is," Marie said and turned to go to the door.

"Stay," John blurted out, causing her to turn. "I mean, it's safer if you stay. He stays up late when he drinks, usually. He doesn't fall asleep until dawn... you can stay here for the night, if you like."

Marie went to bite her lip as she crossed her arms in the uncomfortable moment and quickly winced at the pain in her mouth.

"Here," John said, guiding her to the bed. "Sit down."

John took long strides to the other end of the room. He brought out a clean shirt and then took his glass of water from on top of his bedside table. Slowly, he poured water on the shirt he held in his hand. Dampening a bit without preventing the water from seeping through. He knelt before Marie where she sat on his side of the bed and gently used the wet cloth on her face, cleaning up the dried blood around her lips.

Marie's eyes stared down at him and softened from fear to eyes of sadness. As if she saw something inside of him he wasn't able to hide.

John cleared his throat, "How long has he been doing this to you?"

"It started last month," Marie tongued her lip as John wetted the neck of her gown where drips of blood stained her clothes. "After my mother died."

John froze for a moment and his eyes found Marie's gaze.

"I'm sorry," John said, unsure of what all he felt sorry for.

For her mother becoming sick and dying... for her being beaten and abused in secret for months... for John not being there for her like a big brother should...

"It's not your fault," she said.

His hands and the wet cloth lingered on her lips a bit too long, and he noticed Marie's eyes falling to his chest. It was then he realized he was still wearing only his white underwear. They were baggy and hand sewn like all of their clothes, so they looked more like white boxers than briefs. Folding the wet shirt in his hands, John stood and brought it to a brown burlap sack in the corner of the room with the rest of his dirty laundry.

"Are you sure it's alright that I stay?" she asked.

"Yes, of course."

He turned back around to see her scooting beneath the covers of his handmade bed that was a little bit smaller than a traditional queen size bed. John took a deep breath and turned out the lantern and went around the opposite side to slide under the covers. Turning to his side, he pulled the covers up to his shoulder and rested his head on the pillow.

The old house was quiet for the first time he could remember. Their father was wandering their yard somewhere out of shouting distance. Marie laid on her side, same as John. They faced each other in the darkness. A small sliver moonlight made it into the bedroom from the corner of the window. The light shone across Marie's curvy body. The gown she wore hung around her firm round breasts that pointed towards him. Her brunette hair was perfectly straight and draped behind her ear, exposing her long slender neck.

The darkness shrouded her face hiding the intricacies of her features. John couldn't even see his own hands as they moved in front of his face. The darkness gave him a feeling of anonymity. It was as if he and his sister were beneath a blanket fort they used to make when they were younger. They were much closer then. In their forts they could tell other secrets and whisper stories that were never to be repeated. They could say and do things that didn't happen elsewhere. It was just them.

Their father's voice hollered in the distance. John knew he was screaming but the distance and house made his words inaudible. Then he grew closer. And closer.

"Marie, you bitch!" he screamed beside the house. Marie gasped, covering her mouth, and balling into the fetal position. "You did it! yous fuckin bitch! You killed your mother!"

John didn't know what to do so he scooted forward and placed a hand on her shoulder then saw her flinch more at the sound of their father's voice and moved his hand over her ear. It seemed to help. Reaching forward, he slipped his hand beneath her head and covered her other ear.

Their father's shouts continued as he stomped by the window and continued his tirade off towards another direction. Soon he was out of hearing distance again. John could have removed his hands away from her, but he liked the feel of her in his arms. The way she turned her face into his palm, he could feel her lush lips almost kissing his palm. He never had touched a woman like this before. He had never kissed a woman before. Marriage was supposed to be the only time a woman was in your bed.

John was lost in a stare at Marie only a foot in front of him. Her body. Her lips. He felt his cock stir beneath his briefs. It hardened and slowly extended towards his sister's body. He didn't plan anything. He didn't know what was about to happen. At that moment, he just didn't want that moment to end. He never wanted to let go of his sister.

Minutes passed and John felt Marie's hands take his left hand from her ear slowly, he hadn't realized she was staring at him. that she was no longer cowering in fear, your firm touch had warded off the fear. Marie took your hand and held it in front of her face, and you felt a single, long kiss placed on your coarse palm. Her kiss lingered and moved up to his thumb. Her lips parted and he felt her warm wet mouth encircle his thumb in a slow, sucking motion going up and down on his thumb.

John didn't know what was happening but felt the throbbing in his shaft. She did this for several seconds and he could see her breath increasing as she nibbled her teeth on him. When she took his thumb out of her mouth, John felt his hand lowering slowly to her chest. He wasn't sure if it was him moving to her and if she did it, but when his palm fell onto her left breast, he felt his cock flex hard beneath his briefs. His right hand still cupped her right cheek as his left rubbed up and down on her breasts. He could feel her hard nipples dragging on his palm and heard the smallest of whimpers escape her lips. She was breathing as hard as he was, now.

John couldn't help but imagine kissing her at that moment. The feel of sliding his tongue against hers. It was then that he felt something he never experienced before. He felt her fingers gently grasp around his cock through his briefs.

Marie

Marie felt a dizzying swirl of motion course through her head. She tried to pace her breathing. To close panting lips and only breathe through her nose, but her heart was beating too quickly in her chest. She placed a hand on her chest as if she needed to keep it there to keep her heart from escaping her chest.

Marie's other hand still held onto her stepbrother's limp cock as he was just inches from her. She could feel his hot breath bathing her chest as John kept his eyes shut. Marie's mind was a maze of thought with cobwebs cluttering the way through. She couldn't focus. She couldn't remember how she made it where she found herself now. Marie's gown pulled up to her neck. Beneath the sheets of the bed, her butt, vagina, and breasts were exposed to her brother. John's warm semen was stringed across her taut belly.