by Blair, Zoe
It didn’t take long. My pussy throbbed and my hips swayed. Brandon traced the line of my legs where they meet my pelvis, sending chills over my body.
“Oh god,” I said, “please, I can’t take anymore,” but he continued taunting me.
He traced the slit of my wet pussy and pushed in. This thought sent me over the edge and I started grinding against his imaginary hand and mine. He resumed position between my smooth long legs.
I lay staring down my stomach at my stepbrother.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought, and desperately wanted to feel his tongue on my wet pussy. I imagined him breathing against my opening, teasing my desire.
Please, I thought, please devour me.
I pictured a warm, wet, tongue touching my clit. I moaned in ecstasy. As he skillfully circled my clit I thought this might be the single greatest moment of my life. Then I pictured a finger dip into my wet slit while my clit received tongue.
I moved with my stepbrother’s motions and rocked my hips back and forth. I grabbed my own breasts and teased my nipples. I stared down at my stepbrother’s strong dark eyes staring back at me while he licked and finger fucked my pussy.
I was in heaven. It was like a Greek god was dipping his magic fingers in and devouring my wet pussy. I reached down to grab the back of his head while he ate me out. I ran my fingers through his black hair to make sure all of this was real. Touching my stepbrother’s head while he was consuming my pussy nearly sent me over. I held his face to my cunt and moved my hips faster. My stepbrother followed my lead and pumped his fingers deeper and faster, while lapping quickly at my pussy.
“Oh! Fuck!”
I exhaled the dirty words, rubbing into my mound as my other hand massaged my breasts. My legs squirmed with excitement as I increased my intent.
My rhythm grew more intense and I grinded my clit, imagining my sexy stepbrother eating me out; his tongue lapping at my wet pussy.
Then I searched back for that memory of walking in on Brandon jacking off, and recalled the still-fresh image of his dick. I played a mental game of “pin the dick on the stud” as my brain attached the image to his current body.
Quick and furious against my swelling red lips, I imagined Brandon holding me down and fucking me hard with that same dick. I could nearly feel the heat, the sweat as I panted and we both came simultaneously.
And with my eyes squeezed tight, my legs tightened up and shook as I climaxed in real life. I grit my teeth and moaned out into panted huffs as the electric waves of pure ecstasy washed over me and my mind went blank.
“Fuck! Fuck!” My dirty mouth cried out as I tried desperately to keep my little pleasure session from echoing down the stairs.
I tried to catch my breath, finally coming down to earth as I collapsed against the door. My clit was sore, raw and overly sensitive and I giggled, having finally gotten the release I was craving.
But as my primal urges subsided and I moved back to rational thought uninfluenced by horniness, I suddenly felt incredibly wrong about what had driven my orgasm.
I sat there, wondering and a little distraught; I had no idea what the next few days had in store, but I’d decided that it would probably be best to avoid Brandon as much as I could.
He was sexy as hell; he made my skin electric and tingly, and he made my clit feel like it was burning to be touched, but he couldn’t. He was my stepbrother.
I figured that between my college classes and casual hanging out with Chrissie and Madison, I’d probably only run into him a few hours each day anyway; and that was probably a short enough time to keep up an act of disaffection.
Why did Andrew have to be such an asshole? I could use a boyfriend to distract me in a time like this, I thought to myself, pounding my fists into the carpet. Not that having Brandon around would have been any easier, but it would have been an added reason not to try and jump his bones.
I called it a night and just hoped it would work out.
The next day, when I stepped downstairs into the kitchen, I saw Brandon swimming in the backyard.
I already held zero faith in my self-discipline. Watching his body glisten in the sunlight gave me little hope that I could keep myself away from him for the rest of the week.
Of course, I was a little relieved when I remembered that it was sort of not my decision to make anyway.
I mean, here I was thinking it was up to me whether Brandon and I ended up sleeping together. I’d totally forgotten that he wasn’t going to just bed this nerdy 19 year old, even if she was totally willing.
Brandon was a post-grad with the body of Hercules; did I really think that whether he fucked me was entirely my call? I felt pretty embarrassed at myself as I grabbed a banana from the fridge.
Of course, that didn’t mean that I hadn’t hoped that he did want to. And it also didn’t mean that I couldn’t continue to fantasize about it.
And as I watched him coming out of the water, his chest and abs chiseled and glistening wet in the morning light, I felt my hormones clawing at my insides.
I heard the doorbell and as I opened it, saw Chrissie, who was my ride to class.
“Hey girl, you ready?” She asked as my eyes widened and I remembered my purse.
“Um, actually; come in for a second” I told her.
I rushed upstairs, hoping to be out of the house before Brandon came inside. But by the time I came back down, Chrissie was ogling him through the window – her mouth hanging open.
“Whoa; who is that? I want details now!” She laughed.
“It’s no one, come on” I told her, grabbing at her arm to drag her out of the kitchen. Chrissie was like an anchor though; she wasn’t budging.
“Girl, I’m not joking here. Seriously, who’s the eye candy?” She said, flashing a devious smile.
“It’s just my brother; well my step-brother” I told her, reminding her and myself that he was only my step-brother. I liked to do this whenever possible.
I felt better with myself each time I remembered that it was only some silly title that bound us. Maybe we could hook up despite our parents’ marriage. No, I thought, it’d be too weird.
“I think I need new panties” Chrissie giggled as Brandon was none the wiser that he was being admired so intensively by us both, now.
Funny enough, I was actually a little jealous of her. I mean, territorially speaking, Brandon was living with me for the next week; so if any girl was going to have an edge, it was yours truly.
However, Chrissie wasn’t related to him, which kind of gave her a huge advantage. And Chrissie was much hotter than me. She would’ve loved nothing more than to bed Brandon, and she was probably going to get her chance if Brandon saw her.
I glared at her before goading her once more to leave.
“Alright Chris, seriously” I tugged at her like a misbehaving child.
“You’re not going to introduce us?” Chrissie asked – half joking. But I knew she really wanted to meet him. I was growing more annoyed as the seconds ticked on.
“He’s only in town for a week; you couldn’t do anything with him even if you wanted” I explained.
“Oh I want to, alright” she laughed. “Is he married?” She curiously twirled her frizzy hair as her eyes beamed with excitement.
“Ough, no.”
I was full-out contemptuous by this point; I wanted nothing more than to avoid being there when Brandon came in, and it looked like that was going to happen at any moment.
“Chrissie, you can meet him next time; I want to go!” I was practically yelling at her.
It was too late, though. I heard the seal of the backdoor break and Brandon stepped inside, still shirtless, as his eyes caught both of us.
“Oh hey, Elle!” Brandon walked across the tile toward us as Chrissie and I both admired his Adonis-like body, smooth and rigid.
Chrissie didn’t let me respond to Brandon’s greeting though.
“Hi, I’m Chrissie! Elle’s friend!” She said, jumping in betw
een Brandon and me.
“Oh, that’s cool. I’m Brandon, Elle’s step-bro” he said, aloof and seemingly disinterested in her.
I was pretty confused. Brandon acted like he couldn’t have cared less that his step-sister’s hot friend was wide-eyed and pining for his attention. He headed right past her and upstairs.
“Well, catch you later Elle? Maybe we can catch the news again,” he joked as he disappeared up the steps.
Wow, I thought to myself.
Brandon completely blew off Chrissie; the girl who I’d always liked as a friend, but hated/envied as competition.
Yet he seemed fully invested in me; like he’d have dropped everything if I needed his help for whatever reason. I started to realize how special I was to him.
The final nail in the coffin for “old” Brandon was hammered in. The boy who ruined my life years ago, was now a man that was enriching it, to say the least.
Chrissie looked embarrassed.
“Can we go now?” I asked her.
She huffed the entire car ride about how Brandon seemed like a jerk.
“Like, is he gay?” She demanded an answer for every little clue she thought she’d stumbled on as we sped to class.
I laughed at Chrissie, playing dumb. But I knew the truth. Brandon was into me.
Chapter Three
I sat on the sofa watching TV later that evening when Brandon came home from his interview. I was becoming so comfortable with him around, that I’d completely forgotten he was only there because of it.
“I got it!” He said excitedly as he came around and plopped down next to me on the sofa.
“Got what?” I asked, oblivious.
“The job, silly; I’m going to be in Miami for good, isn’t that great?”
“Oh wow, that’s awesome” I leaned over to hug him, albeit a little awkwardly. He seemed a little taken back so I quickly apologized.
“Sorry, I just figured it warranted a hug or something” I let an embarrassed giggle escape.
“Well, you’re right. This does warrant a hug,” He joked, completely unfazed by my tension. “Hey, you still seem pretty tense. I’m feeling pretty good, so why don’t you lay out here on the couch, and I’ll give you a quick leg massage” he suggested, patting the space next to him.
Even though Brandons continued invitations to give me a massage seemed like he was coming on to me, I wasn’t an idiot. I needed to keep myself grounded in the reality that his invitations were probably only platonic.
But I wasn’t going to turn down a massage, so I laid myself out on my stomach as he hovered over my legs. I felt excited awaiting his touch, curling my toes when it finally came.
As Brandon started to work his miracle fingers on my calves, I tried to make some conversation.
“So, you’re going to be a masseuse here in Miami, huh?” I asked him as he laughed.
“Firstly, a masseuse is a female; masseur is male” he explained.
“And, no I won’t be massaging people all day long,” he started; his fingers digging into my tender muscles.
“Dad has a way of simplifying things, doesn’t he?” I cringed when he said Dad. “I’m going to be vice president of operations for a massage therapy chain here in Miami,” he continued.
“The only things I’ll be massaging are stacks of paperwork,” he laughed.
My thoughts grew wild with admiration.
I imagined Brandon in a suit, which definitely tickled my thoughts. I wondered why he hadn’t been in one when he came home; I could have enjoyed the sight if he had.
“Isn’t interview attire something more professional?” I asked him teasingly, referring to his sleeveless shirt and athletic shorts.
“Oh yeah, I was decked out. I hit the gym on the way home, though” He said.
I took in his scent of clean sweat when he walked in, and now it had made sense to me. I felt a dumb for not thinking of him stopping by the gym.
“Oh yeah. Sorry, I just…” I started.
“For what?” He jumped in; his hands dug into the back of my thighs now, and my eyes nearly rolled back in bliss. It was becoming harder to keep up conversation.
“Um, I don’t know,” I laughed like a nervous goof.
Smooth one! I thought to myself.
Brandon didn’t laugh back, though. He grew silent and stolid.
“Listen Elle, when we were younger,” He started, seeming a little nervous.
“Well, I treated you like shit. I mean, obviously right? You remember those days probably better than I do,” he started.
I felt instantly attentive to Brandon. I was jolted from the aimless relaxation and wondering if this would be the apology I’d always dreamed of, but never got. Granted, now it didn’t seem necessary.
Rather, it seemed like picking at old wounds and I felt tense, despite the massage. I mean, I’m my own person now; the pimply-faced ghost of a younger Brandon wasn’t haunting me anymore.
A new, mature and fatally handsome man had taken his place. And I felt an odd sensation as the negative emotions I’d always felt so strongly toward him, were being replaced by new positive memories.
But Brandon clearly needed absolution.
“Look, I’m really sorry about all of it,” he continued.
“And I’m even more sorry that I didn’t apologize sooner; but I wanted to tell you in person, I guess because I thought you deserved that,” he finished.
I almost felt tears welling up inside me, but I tried to fight them back.
“I’m not trying to excuse it; but I was fucked up. I was sixteen and I’d been without a dad for a long time,” he started again.
“And well, when your dad showed up I guess I just didn’t trust him to stick around. You guys were there for me and my mom but I still treated you like shit; I just couldn’t believe it,” he finished.
I’d noticed that Brandon had an impressive way of clarifying his thoughts.
He’d perfected the art of straightforward communication in a way that only a wiser person could.
Hell, I was still very much a slave to my own emotions, but Brandon was a rock.
I sat up, looking into Brandon’s eyes; I wanted to tell him that it was fine, that I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to tell them how much he’d hurt me back then, too. My mind swirled around.
I wanted to cry and scream and hug him all at the same time. But instead, our gazes locked, we became heated, and he began to slowly lean in toward my lips.
My mind was in disbelief as he approached me; my heart was thudding in place and my breath was held as his lips neared mine.
Brandon didn’t feel like a brother to me anymore, he felt like a man. A lover.
I closed my eyes and felt Brandon’s breath on my mouth before his warm lips pressed onto mine and the shudder of warmth rocketed throughout my body.
And then suddenly it was cold again.
