Chapter 23
He was laughing, talking, acting like he was hot shit, still out of breath, trying to make small talk like it was just another joke between siblings. But I hadn't come in there to listen to him brag. I wanted more. Way more than his mouth had given me yesterday. My body was still throbbing, hot, restless, and the hunger hadn't faded—it had just shifted shape.
I stood up slowly, without saying a word. I lifted the loose nightgown just high enough to slide my hand underneath, hooked my panties with my fingers, and pulled them down slow. The thin fabric, already damp and warm, brushed the insides of my slim thighs before dropping to the floor with a barely audible sound. The cool air in the room hit my bare skin straight on, raising goosebumps on my belly and making my small nipples harden against the thin cotton of the nightgown. I looked at his cock—still hard, the skin stretched tight and glistening with the mix of dried spit and cum that was slowly dripping from the pink head, pulsing faintly in the cool morning air. The scent rose from it: clean sweat from sleep, fresh semen, a hot, masculine smell that made me dizzy and wet all over again.
For a second, I thought about it. Sitting down facing him, letting him slide in, feeling him fill me up completely, deep, hot, his veins throbbing inside me. But the image hit quick and cold: getting knocked up by my own brother. Panic rose in my gut, the imagined shame of Mom yelling "slut" over the phone, Dad finding out in silence. It'd be easier to explain that some random bum had done it to me on the street than this. So no. Not yet.
Without asking, without saying a word, I climbed onto the bed on my knees. I turned my back to him—facing his cock—and sat reverse on his face. He didn't complain, didn't make a sound. He just opened his mouth right away, his hot breath hitting my wet skin first, then his tongue came, wet and soft, brushing lightly before licking from bottom to top. His hands went up automatically to my thighs, warm and firm fingers spreading me wider, his rough palm grazing my pale skin and sending shivers everywhere. The mattress dipped a little under my weight, the rumpled sheet rubbing against my knees.
I adjusted myself slowly, fitting my wet pussy right onto his mouth. The heat of his tongue wrapped around my clit immediately—hot, wet, soft—licking slow, circling the swollen little head with perfect pressure. The taste of him was still in my mouth, salty and thick, but now mixed with my own scent rising up: wet, sweet-tangy, hot. I started to grind slow—hips circling lazy, rubbing my clit on his tongue, then pressing my spread lips against his nose and chin, feeling the hard bone of his nose brush my entrance, his wet chin sinking into the soft flesh. The pleasure rose warm, lazy, like a slow wave starting at my clit and spreading through my belly, tingling my small tits under the nightgown, hardening my nipples until they ached lightly against the thin fabric.
I sped up the grind, pressing harder. His tongue dipped in and out of my entrance, licked my whole lips, went back to the sensitive spot and sucked gently, the wet, muffled sound filling the quiet room. My wetness ran down his chin, dripped onto the sheet, left his skin shining. I moaned low, husky, the sound coming straight from my throat, vibrating in my chest: a long, low "hmm" when his tongue hit the exact spot, a shaky sigh when he sucked my whole clit, a sharper, muffled moan when I pressed harder against his mouth.
While I ground on his face, I reached forward and grabbed his hard cock. The skin was hot, almost feverish and slick. I started jerking him off slow, firm, feeling the thin skin slide over the bulging veins, the swollen head pulsing against my thumb every time I passed over it. His scent rose stronger now—sweat, fresh cum, man—mixed with my wetness dripping down his face. He groaned muffled against my pussy, the deep sound vibrating right on my clit, making me shiver from my thighs to my neck. I sped up my hand—fast strokes, squeezing at the base until I felt the veins pulse against my fingers, loosening at the head with a light twist, the fluid running down my palm and dripping hot onto the sheet.
I ground harder, rubbing everything—clit throbbing on his tongue, lips spread against his nose, entrance brushing his chin. My wetness flowed down his face, soaked his cheeks, his neck, the sheet below. He licked nonstop, flat tongue covering everything, then pointed, circling my clit in quick loops, sucking the whole little nub with rhythmic suction. I didn't have to work hard; I just rocked my hips, letting him do the job, taking every lick like it was a gift I deserved.
The handjob got faster, tighter. His cock swelled big in my hand, pulsed hard against my palm, and he came again, just water. Hot spurts shot onto my skin, my wrist, dripping hot and sticky onto the sheet, the strong semen smell rising up right away. He shook all over under me, groaning rough and muffled against my pussy, the deep sound vibrating and pushing me over too.
I didn't stop grinding. I kept rubbing, feeling his orgasm shove me into mine. My clit throbbed hard on his tongue, my pussy clenched in deep spasms, wetness gushing even more onto his face. I came quiet, body locking up for a full second, then trembling in slow, deep waves, hips still circling lazy, milking the last of the pleasure into his hot mouth.
I stayed there a few seconds, panting, hand still holding his softening cock, feeling the last weak pulses in my palm, pussy pulsing slow on his face. He breathed heavy, licking slow now, cleaning everything with his tongue like he didn't want to waste a drop, the wet, slow sound filling the room's silence.
I smiled satisfied, not moving yet. I looked to the side, took in the scene, and said without knowing what I was thinking:
"Fuck, what a mess..."