It was a little snug. My breasts had filled in over the last couple of years so they strained against the small shirt, causing the material to become nearly see through. I sighed and debated finding something else, but it was late and I was tired.
Settling for the shirt—probably dad wouldn’t even come in until I was up anyway—I threw back my covers and crawled into bed. All I wanted was to sleep. At least, that’s what I thought, but as I lay there my mind couldn’t help but wander.
I thought of my old bedroom looking just as it did when I left and I thought of how Danny’s room was just down the hall. How I’d used to peek in through the cracked opening of his door as he dragged some new girl into his bedroom and tore off her clothes.
Danny never had any trouble with the ladies, and it wasn’t any surprise. He was fit from years of playing sports and his features were already handsome, devilishly so, and his smile made promises that his body could most definitely keep.
I remembered one night when he’d come home late. Dad and Selene were already asleep, but I was up late studying for a math test. I’d heard the giggling first and peeked out of my door just in time to see Danny half dragging Melody, head cheerleader and everyone’s wet dream, up the stairs and into his room. He’d paused before they stumbled in, slamming her against the wall hard and slipping his hand up her skirt. When she started to moan, he had covered her mouth with a sloppy kiss and then all but thrown her into his room.
He had closed the door behind them, but it hadn’t shut all the way. And I’d been curious. It wasn’t that I hadn’t had sex at that point, I had, but there was something different when it was Danny with some girl. I’d heard them through the walls before—not Melody, but other girls he’d brought home—and it always sounded so loud, so hard.
And that night, I just had to know.
So I’d carefully slipped down the hall and stopped just outside his door. It was barely open a crack, not really enough for me to see, so I’d pushed it open further until I could see Danny and Melody. I caught them just in time to see him yank her blouse open, her buttons going everywhere.
She had large, milky white breasts with pink nipples that were hard and crinkled. He’d been rough with them, grabbing them with his large hands and squeezing her soft flesh until she moaned and begged for more. I didn’t know if she had bruises afterward, but I wouldn’t have been surprised.
He liked to play rough.
Her skirt came off next, pooling in a pile on the floor, and when he got to her panties, he tore them off of her body. I heard the ripping sound of fabric, but she didn’t care. She was panting like a bitch in heat and I was, too.
Danny had planted his hands on her shoulders then and shoved her hard until she landed on his bed stark naked, tits bouncing.
Then he’d taken off his own clothes. I watched with fascination, riveted as I watched him expose his rippling muscles that trailed down his smooth back before they disappeared into his jeans. He went to his pants next and when I heard the belt buckle coming undone, I let out a whimper.
I clamped a hand down over my mouth, terrified that he’d heard me. He paused and glanced behind him, searching, but he must not have seen me because a moment later he went back to his pants.
He undid them quickly and when they dropped I saw his bare ass; no underwear. I watched him go to the bed and expected him to climb on top of her, but he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed her legs and jerked her forward until her butt was on the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs wide, he settled himself between them and in one single hard thrust he buried himself inside her.
I remembered how she cried out and how he clamped a hand down forcefully over her mouth, trying to keep her quiet. I remembered how she’d whimpered as he began to thrust into her so hard that I could hear the slapping of skin against skin amidst the soft, slippery squish of slick bodies and could see her large breasts bouncing like mad as he pounded into her.
I lay in my bed, remembering the way he looked and the way she sounded and how the bed shook with the power of his thrusts, and just couldn’t help myself. Old habits die hard.
Sliding my hand down my body, I found the edge of my panties and slipped my hand beneath them, finding my opening between my legs. It was warm and wet already, allowing my fingers to dip inside up to my knuckles.
I pictured Danny fucking Melody all those years ago and remembered how wet I’d gotten, how riveted I’d been to the sight of him burying his dick inside of someone else. At some point, he pulled out of her and changed their position. He maneuvered them so that she was half thrown over the side of the bed, her feet planted on the floor, and her ass in the air. He’d moved them so that I could now get a full view of both of their bodies, though it was only a profile. Which happened to be the perfect way to see his huge, thick cock jutting out from his pelvis, bigger than anything I’d ever seen.
When he buried himself inside her again, the new angle seemed to suit him better. He gritted his teeth and gripped her hips so tightly that his knuckles were white. When he began to fuck her again, I thought she might break in half.
He slammed into her so hard, over and over again, that the bed moved.
One of his hands had stayed on her hip, but the other had buried into her hair, long and a warm blonde color, close to mine and I could almost imagine that I was watching him fuck me not her. He held her hair tightly, jerking her head back so that her back arched as he slammed into her again and again. The hand on her hip moved a couple of times, but only so that he could slap her ass cheek hard, leaving a bright red spot. He was forceful, rough on her, but everything he did only made her beg and plead desperately for more.
She couldn’t seem to get enough of him.
I watched them until he shuddered and yelled out a strangled, “Fuck!” I watched as white, sticky fluid dripped out of her then and I knew he’d let himself go inside of her.
As I laid in my childhood bed, my fingers buried inside my wet opening, I remembered how hard he’d fucked her, how large his cock had been, and how much she’d begged for it. And I remembered how, afterward, he’d let himself slip out of her and his eyes had looked once more towards the door, where I was crouched down watching.
He didn’t say anything and never would, but I always imagined that he’d known I was there that night and that he’d wanted to be fucking me, not Melody.
It was ridiculous, but it had given me material with which to get myself off for the rest of my high school career and beyond. As I fingered myself now, I pictured the way his cock had looked and how much of his seed had spilled out of her when he finished. I pictured the way he cried out, “Fuck!” and the way he’d ripped her panties from her body and bent her over the bed and gripped her hips so tightly.
I pictured all of it until I built myself into a frenzy and when I finally pushed myself over the edge, I pictured the expression on his face when he’d glanced towards the door.
Chapter Four
I had to get out of there. I don’t know what happened tonight, but as I backed my little sport’s car out of the driveway, it was pretty apparent that I couldn’t be trusted to drink with Ashley anymore. Or maybe I never had in the first place.
My apartment was closer to the city center as opposed to the happy little suburbia that I’d grown up in. It was maybe forty-five minutes away, thirty-five to forty with no traffic, and as I sat behind the wheel headed home, I thought that it was entirely too long.
My pants were uncomfortable and I tried to adjust myself as I was in for a long thirty-minute drive, but there wasn’t much point. I was hard and I knew exactly why.
“This is in no way right,” I told myself in the empty car.
I flipped on my turn signal and pulled out onto the on ramp to take the freeway most of the way home. I wanted to get there as quickly as possible.
I’d probably had enough to drink that night that it wasn’t wise to be out driving, but I couldn’t risk staying at home. I saw the way her tongue slid out from betwee
n those pink, full lips, how her eyes had been hooded and darker than usual. I watched her hand slid down the neck of the bottle of bourbon and my mind pictured how small her hand would look wrapped around my dick.
It wasn’t okay, it wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have these kinds of feelings towards Ashley of all people. She was my stepsister for god’s sake, but I couldn’t help it. She got my blood pumping—all in the wrong direction—in a way that no woman ever had and it wasn’t a new feeling.
I’d being thinking about doing dirty things to her since she was fifteen damn years old. I’d told myself that I would grow out of it, that it was just because we were close in age and hormones were making our brains wacky. I told myself that her tits weren’t any more perfect than anyone else’s and that her ass wasn’t the perkiest, roundest damn thing I’d ever seen.
But it was all a bunch of lies. I wanted to bend her over and push into her until I exploded, but it wasn’t right. My desires never faded—if anything they’d intensified since the last time I’d seen her—but that never made it right.
I shifted in my seat again, trying to find a comfortable position, but my balls were aching and I was so hard that I knew it wouldn’t take much to finish me off.
Pushing my foot down a little harder on the gas pedal, I sped a little faster than I should have to get home.
It wasn’t all lust, either, though at the moment that was the bulk of my problem. When we’d first moved in together as kids, there had been a quick connection. It was born out of mutual interests and a closeness in age and the knowledge that we’d have to get along if we wanted things with our parents to work. It had been this small spark at the time, something I couldn’t place as a thirteen-year-old, but when her body had started to fill out and I’d started to realize that I wanted to do things with women that didn’t involve kid’s games anymore, that connection grew stronger.
And far less appropriate. I loved Ashley; she was my stepsister. But I felt other things for her, things that a brother doesn’t feel for his sister, and it was driving me crazy.
Distance should have made it easier for me, but it didn’t matter how many women I took home and fucked the daylights out of, I still only pictured her in my bed. Her move to New York hadn’t given me relief, it had only left me aching for her across the distance instead.
I didn’t know what to do about it.
“That’s not exactly true, is it?” I said aloud with a small smirk. I did know what to do about my current situation, but it was only a temporary solution to a far more permanent problem. Still, it would do for tonight.
I pulled into the parking garage of my apartment complex. It was more like a set of condos, the apartments larger and spread out more from each other than normal. It also cost a hell of a lot more, but I could afford it. There wasn’t much I couldn’t afford anymore and I had a pretty intense desire to share some of that wealth with Ashley, but she didn’t want it.
Stubborn as ever.
Normally, I walked up the four flights of stairs—three floors and the garage which was underground—to my apartment, enjoying the walk and the time to think, but I was in a hurry tonight. The aching of my balls was growing steadily and I needed to take care of that.
Jabbing my finger into the button for the elevator, I waited impatiently for it to come down. Thankfully, it was late enough that no one was around and I didn’t have to wait long. I pressed the button for the third floor and massaged my aching crotch as discretely as I could (I knew there was a camera watching) while the elevator took me up to my floor.
When the elevator dinged, I was out of there in a flash and headed down the hall to my door, digging out my keys.
Finally, I got my door unlocked and slipped inside, so relieved to finally be in a place private enough to take care of my little problem that I started stripping in the living room. I yanked off my shirt and undid my pants, leaving my clothes in a small pile on the floor as I made a beeline for the bathroom. I started the shower, turning it to cold first, but reconsidered at the last minute.
I could take a cold shower and try to get rid of the images of Ashley that my mind had been feeding me the whole ride over here, or I could give in to the desire that was causing my dick to remain hard between my legs.
Hot shower it was.
Testing the temperature, I got in and instantly started to feel better. The water was great and my pants were no longer constricting me uncomfortably. I closed my eyes and pictured her in my mind.
Her long, honey blonde hair, golden in the light and darker in the winter. Her bright eyes, blue like Caribbean waters. And her body… she hadn’t been a little girl for a long time and I hadn’t been the only one to notice. Her curves were full, her waist tiny, and her long legs seemed to go on for miles. She was all woman.
Ashley leaned forward across the table, reaching for the bottle of bourbon, her shirt catching against the edge of the table and stretching as she reached. I could see her breasts beneath the shirt and knew she was braless. Her perky, full tits were struggling to break free of the material restraining them, doing their best to tumble out of the low cut collar of her shirt as it stretched farther and farther. If I looked closely, I could see her nipples straining against the fabric, the material almost thin enough to be see-through. Almost.
When I remembered how her hand had encircled the neck of the bourbon bottle, starting at the very tip, I reached my own hand down to my hard cock. I pictured her hand sliding down the bottle, the way her eyes watched me as she did it, and imagined that it was her hand gripping between my legs.
Ashley.
She stood in the shower with me, her body completely bare. Her tits were full and perky, her nipples hard even with the hot water dripping over them. My eyes darted lower to that shaved spot between her legs and I groaned. She was smooth, her slit wet, I knew. I wanted to touch her, to reach out and drag my hand along that slick opening, but—
I worked hard to hold on to the daydream of her standing there with me. But there was just no faking touching her right now; I wanted the real deal and since that wasn’t an option, I continued to stroke my dick and pictured that she was touching herself.
Her hands slipped between her legs and she let out a low groan as I watched two fingers disappear into her warm, waiting body. My dick twitched in reaction.
“Add another,” I commanded her, my voice raw as my hand worked faster along my cock. “Start stretching yourself.”
She did as I told her to, adding a third finger and moaning again, this time, her breathy voice saying my name, “Danny.”
“Another,” I demanded.
She obliged; four fingers buried in her tight pussy.
“Deeper,” I told her. “I want you to try and fuck yourself like I want to fuck you.”
She pushed them farther into herself until half her hand was between her legs, her fingers buried up to the knuckles. I stroked myself harder feeling my release building within me, my aching balls tightening as I watched her arch her back and finger herself.
“Faster,” I told her.
She pumped her fingers in and out of herself faster. I sped up my own hand to match her pace.
“Touch your clit.”
With her free hand, she slipped her forefinger between her lips to find the little bundle of nerves that I knew was there. As she stroked the little nub, she whimpered.
“Don’t slow down,” I told her. “Keep fingering yourself.”
She did as I bid, using both her hands to work herself into a frenzy. It drove me crazy. I pumped my shaft harder and faster, watching as she pleasured herself.
When I came, it was harder than it had been in a long while. Spurts of my seed draped along the shower walls right where my desire addled brain had imagined Ashley had been touching herself. I pictured that I’d actually come on her, spilling across her breasts and flat stomach. For a long moment, I just stood there under the water, breathing heavily as I leaned against the wall.
Ashley hadn’
t really been there, of course, and it made me wonder what it would have been like if she had been.
Chapter Five
Sunlight pours in through my window and I remember that I’d left the window open all night. The air is fresh and a little crisp, not cold exactly, but clean and refreshing. For a moment, I just lay there staring up at the lavender colored canopy above my head. My childhood bed and my room, just as I’d left it.
I had a slight headache from the night before, but it wasn’t bad, for which I was eternally grateful. It did remind me, however, of the events that transpired. Heat flushed my cheeks.
I’d been pretty stupid, I reflected.
When dad had gone to bed, I’d really let loose. Not intentionally, but the free flowing alcohol and the nearness of Danny after so long apart muddled my better reasoning and before I knew it I was flirting with him. And not just a little bit.
Crush Page 5
