Chapter 12

Her touch on me wasn’t all that different from what some clumsy guys had done before—it felt good, but it wasn’t what was turning me inside out. What really took my breath away was what my fingers felt. The novelty. The hot skin, the softness, the soaked fabric. That was my sister’s pussy.

My sister.

And yet, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t exactly know what to do, but my body took over. My fingers pressed over her panties, exploring with slow, firm circles, feeling out every response like clues.

It was with that bolder touch that she half-lifted herself, her whole body reacting, and let out a heavy gasp, biting her lips like she was trying to hold back a dangerous moan. I noticed. Things were slipping out of control. We’d crossed the line a long time ago, but now… there was no going back.

A thought hit me like lightning: What must it be like to run your hand over another pussy?
But not just any pussy. Hers.

If she was still touching me, I didn’t even know anymore. The arousal was so intense that my brain couldn’t process the sensations anymore. Everything was heat, scent, goosebumped skin, ragged breathing. I was in a trance.

My fingers, bolder than I’d ever admit, sought the edge of her panties. I dragged the fabric slowly, pushing it aside carefully, and let my fingers touch her for real. Skin against skin. Raw flesh.

She moaned softly, muffling it into my neck.

“Ainn…”

It was hot. So hot. And wet. Soaked like she’d been waiting for it all day. I knew that texture, that consistency, that shape. It was practically identical to mine. But still… totally new. The fact that it was hers made it all feel wrong. Wrong and insanely good.

My fingers slid without resistance, playing with every fold, every layer. I discovered paths, tested intensities. She opened up to me without a word, subtly grinding, encouraging, begging with her body. I grabbed her full handful sometimes, squeezed it all, then went back to the gentle touch. The tips of my fingers went deep, then pulled back, slipping until I felt her little asshole there, tiny and pulsing, just brushing it lightly.

That’s when she dug her nails into my back hard, like my touch had hit some secret, deep spot where she’d never let anyone go. Her hips started moving more firmly, really grinding on my hand, fitting against it, offering herself, no shame at all. Her body was begging for more. Pleading.

“Th-the vi… vid… wait…” she stammered between moans, her lips brushing my neck, her voice wrecked with lust.

But before I could figure out what she really meant, she moved. And she went all in.

Her hand slid down without warning and shoved between my legs with almost desperate urgency, yanking my panties aside roughly and, without any heads-up, plunging two fingers straight inside me. My body arched with the impact, my eyes squeezed shut tight, and a raw moan tore from my throat.

“Aah… fuck… Jules…”

The pressure of her fingers filled me deep, wet, firm, and started pumping in a steady, rhythmic, intense beat. My body reacted like it knew that touch, like it had wanted more since the first time she kissed me. I almost came right there, on the spot, just from that. I had to hold back, bite my lip, clench my eyes to keep from exploding all at once.

My hand kept going on her, and now my fingers sought more. They fit in, spread open, penetrated, matched the same rhythm she was giving me. It was a mirror. A perfect reflection. A sweaty, hot, desperate dance.

Our bodies fused completely. The fingers buried deep, in a rhythm getting wilder by the second, like we wanted to rip the pleasure out of each other with the force of our hands. Her breath mixed with mine, hot, broken, interrupted moans between each thrust. Our hips met in the air, sweat glued our tits together, and everything felt like it was about to collapse.

“Tell… what were you saying…” I managed to whisper, barely any air left. “You were saying something…”

“The video… wait… stop…” she got out between moans, her voice all jumbled.

And then, from some place I don’t know where it came from, she gathered her strength and pulled away from me. She backed off like she was snapping out of a trance. I stayed there, frozen, blank-faced. I tried not to think, because if I did… the shame would hit like a punch.

She reached for the phone and stopped the recording. The screen went dark. She looked at me and laughed. That weird laugh, half-nervous, half-relieved. Part of me thought it was just an excuse to escape. Maybe it was. I didn’t get any of it.

“We skipped steps in the video,” she said, laughing, trying to catch her breath. “Wanna try oral?”

It was like a bucket of cold water. The desire still throbbed in my body, but the mood was broken. If I kept going, I didn’t know how far I’d be willing to take it. And honestly, that scared me more than anything.

“I’m not gonna eat you out.” I replied flatly, my breath still caught, trying to sound firm.

She turned her face serious, pulled her blonde hair stuck to her forehead like she was trying to pull herself together, and shot back:

“Justy… we have to do it.”

Silence.

“Even or odd?”

“Holy shit, Jules…” I muttered, already out of patience. “Fuck it, even.”

“Odd. One, two, three…”

“Two!”

“Zero.”

“I win! You eat me out,” I yelled, half-startled, half-laughing, not even sure what I was saying.

And then silence dropped like a weight in the air.

I’d just won a pussy-licking from my sister in even or odd. And the worst part… I couldn’t even start to process how insane that was. Part of me was still burning so hot that thinking was impossible. My body was screaming, my brain was just trying not to freak out.

She went to the phone, tapped a few buttons, and came back with it in her hand.

“Here. Film.”

“I can’t film this, Jules…” I replied, not even looking at her right.

“Either we film it, or I’ll call someone to film. Your choice.”

“You’re really gonna be able to do this?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never eaten out a girl. Just warning you now, I’m kinda grossed out,” she made a funny face and then got serious. “But I’ll try. And we need to stop talking, because if I think about it for two more minutes, I’ll bail. Turn that on and hit record.”

I don’t know what was going through my head. Or rather, I do. She was there, between my legs, pulsing with arousal, numb with want. Reason had shut up completely.

I lay back on the couch, spreading my legs for my sister. My sister.

This was insane.

The second the heat dipped even a little, guilt knocked at the door, furious, yelling how wrong this was. But in the middle of that fire, it could barely get in.

I hit the button and tried to frame my crotch, my thigh, the space between my legs. The image shook. I was shaking. The recording was gonna suck. The phone slipped in my sweaty hand, the focus kept blurring, and still I couldn’t stop staring. Jules lowered herself between my legs with a serious, focused face, her blonde hair sticking to her sweaty forehead as she shoved my panties aside in a hurry, like she didn’t want to waste time. Watching it all from above, through the screen, gave me this weird feeling—like I was watching the scene from outside, but it was my body there, exposed, dripping, lips glistening with arousal, my chest rising and falling in anxious breaths.

She hesitated. She got close slowly, her mouth almost touching, her hot breath hitting my sensitive skin straight on. The first lick was light, quick, almost shy. More like a kiss than a real lick. But even so, my body reacted like it’d been zapped by electricity. A shiver ran through my thighs, and my eyes closed on their own.

She had no idea what she was doing—and it showed. Her tongue missed the rhythm, went where it shouldn’t, disappeared when I needed it most. It was clumsy, lost, raw. But still… the pleasure built. The feeling was off, but it drove me crazy. It was like being licked by the wrong person at the most right moment. The arousal didn’t come from how she did it—it came from it being her, my sister, on her knees between my legs, mouth glued to me, trying to make me cum in the most insane way possible.

And even if it was a messy lick, my body didn’t want to stop. Every slip of her tongue made my hips buck more. I clamped my legs against her mouth without realizing, wanting more contact, more pressure, even if it was all wrong. I watched it all through the phone, and the image was a mess—but seeing my pussy exposed, spread open, being licked by her… it took me completely out of my mind.

Little by little, she started to let go. Her mouth got wetter, the licks more intense, and the shame she had seemed to melt into the taste. She still licked kinda crooked, too fast sometimes, but there was something more in her now—curiosity, surrender. Jules, even without knowing what she was doing, left me gasping. I moaned without holding back, trying not to drop the phone, but I didn’t give a shit about the camera, the angle, the lighting anymore.

My whole body throbbed, and I knew if she kept at it for two more minutes, I’d cum. And maybe that’s what scared me. This madness had gone way too far, and I didn’t know where the limit was anymore. Her licking sucked. Not because she was my sister—but because she straight-up didn’t know how. And that’s when I lost it. Completely.

I clamped my legs shut hard, breath stuck in my chest, and let it out without thinking, almost yelling:

“Hold up, fuck… you don’t know how to do this. Let me do you.”

I didn’t even know where that came from. Pure impulse, automatic, irrational. Maybe because whenever she messed up, it was me who fixed it, who did it right, who sorted it out. Maybe it was just my way of handling the chaos.

I’d never eaten out a girl.
I’d never wanted to eat out my sister.