Megan's Brother

'Forever, I hope.' She saw the expression on his face. 'Hey, I'm joking, right? Let's say until one of us finds the right girl or guy...but that might be a long time.' He didn't answer and she hurried on to a new subject. 'What do you think of my new dress?' she asked.

David glanced at her. Meg had placed her hands on her midriff and smoothed the material down, causing it to stretch. Even in the dim restaurant lighting he could see both breasts clearly outlined, with the nipples thrusting against the thin fabric. Her eyes were on his face and it was clear she knew what she was doing.

'It's lovely,' he said, wrenching his eyes away from the tantalising sight.

'I made it. The first dress I've ever made.'

David recalled the hours she had spent at the sewing machine on the little kitchen table, with scraps of blue silk seemingly cut in random disorder. He hadn't paid too much attention to what she was making but he remembered the colourful language when it went wrong, which seemed to be a lot.

'It really is lovely,' he said again with feeling. 'You can wear it to work.'

'No,' Meg said. 'I made it just for you. It's for when we are together. I want us to be together.'

David suddenly felt he was drowning. Every sentence she uttered seemed to be filled with innuendo or was heavy with brittle hints and he knew it must stop before both of them were hurt.

'Meg -' he started. 'You can't keep -'

The words dried on his lips as he saw her expression. Meg was looking at him, a long, steady gaze, knowing what he had been about to say and begging him with her eyes not to utter the words. It was as if the mask she'd been wearing had been suddenly been stripped away to reveal her true feelings: of loneliness and longing and a desire to be loved; of a sea of hopelessness at ever finding another soul she could trust with her heart, and a desperate fear that the one person who could offer that comfort was on the brink of denying it.

For a long moment they stared at each other in silence, each overwhelmingly aware of the other. Meg's heart was pounding, the blood fizzing through her veins and her senses heightened. The distant rumble of waves on the shore and the soft whisper of the wind through the nearby trees faded to nothing and there was only her and David, alone in a sudden vacuum of time and space. The little pool of light thrown by the candle became the extent of her universe, encompassing everything she needed: his face turned toward her, his eyes shining in the soft, flickering light; his skin burnished gold and his lips soft and slightly apart. In her heightened state she heard the whisper of his breath and the thudding of his heart, and she saw the sudden flare of understanding in his eyes as he finally comprehended the true extent of her pain and that he could no longer deny her.

'Meg -' he whispered. 'Oh, Meg, we shouldn't -'

She leaned forward and put her hand lightly on his lips to stem his words. 'I want you, Soldier,' she said softly. Her eyes were shining pools filled with emotion, and David felt himself being drawn into their liquid depths. 'You're worried that if you do anything to me I'll think you're like Dad, and I'll hate you.' She watched his face for a moment to see if he would deny it, but his lips were still and she nodded at his silent acceptance. 'And you're frightened that if we do anything we could never go back, that it would somehow ruin any feeling between us.' She moved her fingers from his lips to cup one cheek, her touch feather light on his warm flesh. 'But you're wrong,' she whispered. 'I've thought about this for months, David. You and I are different from other families. We've always had each other... loved each other. We have no one else. This day was always going to happen.'

'Meg -'

She leaned forward over the table and pressed her mouth to her brother's lips. They were soft and tasted of wine, and for a moment they were quiescent under hers: and then he responded, his mouth moving, his lips pressing harder. His resolve fled in an instant to be replaced by an overwhelming need to comfort her, to take away the uncertainty and pain no matter what the consequences. She felt his tongue touch hers, the tip probing gently between her lips and and felt his hand move to her face to cup the warmth of her cheek. A sudden wave of triumph surged through her, and she lifted her mouth from his.

'I need you David,' she whispered. 'I need you so much.'

David would remember that walk back to the cottage for the rest of his life. For the most part they were silent, each of them contemplating what the next few hours would bring. For him, it was the culmination of a dream -- a realisation that his delicious little sister would soon be his to take, to do with as he wished. He had struggled to deny her but had failed, and he was ready to move forward. With a thudding heart he imagined the texture of her flesh and the taste of her juice on his lips, and how it would feel as he finally entered the tight sanctuary of her body. He had had other women and each had brought anticipation in the moments before he fucked them, but this was different. This was Meg, his sister. They had grown together as children, laughed and fought and cried together; they had weathered the storms of life and grown stronger for it...and he had thought himself strong enough to resist but now he knew he could not, and he wondered if taking her would shatter the dream and bring irreversible regret.

Meg had seized his arm as if to prevent him bolting, and in her grip he could feel a sexual energy that grew with every step they took. She was talking, empty little words of no consequence, but her tone betrayed a breathless fear that the precious gift she was about to give might somehow prove inadequate, and that she would lose him still.

They turned into the driveway of the cottage, walking silently now except for the tread of their shoes on the soft powdered earth. The steps to the verandah loomed before them, shrouded in shadow cast by a quarter moon hanging low in the horizon: three short steps that would take them to a life forever changed. A little breeze had sprung up, and the dark trees beside the house nudged one another and whispered as they watched the drama below.

David and Meg stopped at the bottom step and for a moment they stared at each another. In the thin moonlight he could discern her eyes shining, and see the dark cupid's bow of her lips.

'Are you sure about this?' he whispered.

'God, yes!' For a moment more she met his gaze and then her face turned up and she lifted herself on tiptoe, and David bent to her mouth and kissed her. He had kissed her before but never like this: her lips were soft and opened to his like a flower, her tongue teasing his. He felt her arms come up around his neck as she drew herself to him. He brushed his hand over her shoulder for a moment or two then moved to the nape of her neck where the fine whorls of gold hair began, as fine as flax under his fingertips. His senses were filled by her proximity: the scent of her skin and the soft sounds of her contentment. He drew his hand down the length of her back and then up again, each finger touching her body as lightly as a shadow, and he felt the texture of her skin changing as her desire built.

'You've no idea how delicious that is,' she whispered. 'Do it more...yes, yes. Don't stop.' She reached back to deftly undo her dress and it fell in a scrap of blue against the sand, and as she bent to pick it up the cheeks of her tush appeared like two ripe peaches, pale and enticing in the darkness. David's eyes were drawn to their perfect symmetry and the mysterious valley between them, dipping downwards to the dark shadow at the juncture of her thighs. His fantasies of his sister were always thus: of the exquisite spheres of her butt - round and firm and creamy smooth, and of what nestled between them, and now it was open to his gaze.

Slowly, with infinite care, he reached forward and drew the tip of one finger from the nape of her neck downwards: long, long strokes, brushing the golden skin, feather light, feeling her twitch and tremble under his touch. He grasped the nape of her neck lightly as a dog might hold a bitch and imagined her kneeling before him, subservient in the moment before penetration. He heard her breath rasping as her pleasure spiraled and he released her, resuming the strokes down her back, over the curve of her waist to rest briefly on one delicious cheek. Her skin seemed to crackle with energy and her soft sighs and little movements told him that she was passive: and so he moved lower still, his hand turning to cup her buttock, squeezing the firm warm flesh. She pushed back into his grasp with little thrusting movements and he could feel the muscles in her bottom clenching, as if to capture his hand and hold it there.

'Mmmm,' she murmured. 'That's nice. Keep doing that.'

David's heart was hammering, his breath tight in his chest. He had dreamed of this moment for years but thought it could never happen; and yet here she was, stood naked and submissive in the pale light. His fingers grew bolder, brushing over each cheek and dipping into the cleft between them, tracking lightly downwards to where the curve of her bottom met the top of her thighs. He grasped one buttock and lifted it gently, his fingers moving downwards to encounter strands of hair as soft as gossamer and slick with her moisture, and he groaned with desire.

'Touch me, David,' she whispered. 'Touch me there.' She reached down with one hand and held herself open, allowing him better access. 'Just lightly...ah, ah, yes...just there.'

His fingers on her sex, resting as light as a shadow, sliding over the wet lips and dipping between them to gather her cream and smear it over the crisp golden curls. It was too dark to see so he relied on other senses: the slippery touch of her vulva; the soft sighs and whimpers and the way she moved against him. She pressed back against his hand, drawing him deeper between her lips: he could feel them dragging at him, a cloying grasp almost as if she was trying to suck his hand into her slim white body. He dipped deeper, one finger penetrating her to the knuckle. She was tighter than he had imagined: her flesh clasped at him and he could feel the rhythmic contractions of her muscles as she tried to draw him in.

Meg broke free from his grasp and ran lightly up the steps to the verandah. The sun chair was to one side and she knelt upon it and thrust her bottom upwards, her legs set apart. Her face pressed against the chair's fabric, turned toward him, and she watched as he approached.

'Eat me, David,' she invited. 'Before you fuck me.'

David knelt on the floor behind her. The angle of her hips and the splay of her legs had the effect of flattening her little cupcake buttocks so her mound was projected backwards. It filled the triangular gap at the apex of her thighs, the skin soft and white, and above it her secret opening was shrouded in shadow. David grasped each cheek and drew them apart, watching as the little rosebud appeared. It nestled in a hollow, surrounded by lustrous mother-of-pearl flesh, and it was clean and small and tight.

He leaned forward and pressed his face to her sex. Her pussy lips were open and his tongue slipped between them, lubricated by his saliva and the juice that oozed from within her. His mouth was instantly filled with her flavour: a mixture of musk and warm oil and a tang of salt, and his ears acknowledged her low groan of pleasure. He curled his tongue and licked slowly to capture her cream: to draw it out of her body, to savour its taste and texture. He could feel it thick upon his tongue and lips and teeth, and its delicious odour filled his senses. She was moaning with each stroke of his tongue, a soft keening noise, and her hands fluttered like wounded birds on the fabric of the chair.

'Ah...ah,' she whispered, and her voice was husky with passion. 'Ah, fuck, David...there...just there!' Her body moved languorously, twitching with each lap of his tongue, and she thrust her groin deeper into his face. She could feel her juices flowing, flowing, like a river pouring from her cunt into her brother's mouth, and between her legs she could see his chin dripping with her discharge and hear the wet snuffle of his tongue as it rummaged in her slot.

The spiral of her pleasure grew rapidly and her mind was suffused with lust. She wriggled her buttocks against his face, thrusting them back and forth in a circle and almost at once his tongue fluttered over her rosebud. God, Oh God....yes, yes! The sphincter moved under his touch, crimping and relaxing like a tiny mouth and she could feel her pussy clenching too, as if in sympathy. Her mind captured each amazing moment in a flickering collage of sensations: the cool evening air caressing her bottom and his breath hot upon her anus; his tongue teasing the tight rubbery ring and the grasp of his fingers on her flesh. She reached back with both hands and drew her buttocks further apart, opening herself completely. My brother's tongue is on my asshole. The thought was almost beyond comprehension and it ratcheted up her excitement: she thrust harder against his face and her ring surrendered under the onslaught, the tightness relaxing to allow the tip of his tongue to penetrate her. The knowledge he was inside her there was intoxicating...amazing, and her body reacted by releasing more juice.

David released her and stood up. He shed his clothes quickly, watching his sister as he did so. In the soft silver light he thought she resembled a delicate porcelain doll crouching submissively with its limbs set apart and slender fingers holding itself open, ready to receive him. His cock sprang free from the confines of his pants, harder than he could ever remember, the skin stretched tight and hot to his touch. He shuffled forward and laid it briefly on her back, the flesh darker than her pale white skin, and he saw how slender she was against its length and girth. He saw how the little cheeks of her bottom would be levered apart and how far it would reach inside her, and he remembered her words of yesterday: ...I'm eighteen years old and I'm untouched. How tight she would be! He looked down at the bulbous knob and envisaged it pressing into her tight little channel, forcing aside the clinging flesh that had never known another. I'm going to fuck my virgin sister. He lifted his shaft and stood back to engage against her, but Meg shook her head.

'No, not yet Soldier.' She turned and sat on the edge of the chair with her face level with his groin. 'I want to taste you first.'

Afterwards, David would remember little things about it: how her fingers looked so small and white against his engorged flesh; the way she rubbed the tip against her mouth, and the smear of silver over the soft, pink lips. Her eyes on his face, watching, watching, filled with lust as she grasped her brother's cock, and the way her mouth finally engulfed him. Her lips were stretched around him, gripping the rim tightly, and she fed the shaft into her throat with awkward fingers.

She pulled his cock free and looked up at him. 'Teach me,' she whispered. 'Show me what to do.'

David grasped her head with his hands and held her still, his cock bobbing against her face. 'I'll show you how,' he whispered. 'Put it against your lips.' He watched her fingers lifting, saw the tip touching her, and he pressed forward until it slid into her mouth, and he coached her with gentle words: when to tighten her lips and when to slacken them, and how to use her tongue and the inside of her cheeks. He pumped gently, watching his shaft sawing into her face, pulling free from time to time to let her relax. She learned quickly, her fingers guiding him as her head bobbed back and forth, and she took him deeper with each stroke until her lips touched the root of his cock. She pulled him free and laughed, and he saw streaks of spit and love juice splattered on her chin.

'I thought you were cumming,' she said. 'I had to keep swallowing.'

David laughed with her. 'I leak juice too,' he said. 'Look.' He grasped his rod and milked it briefly, and his sister's eyes widened as a gob of silver juice drooled from its eye. She leaned forward and captured it on her tongue, savouring its oily taste before smacking her lips in mock pantomime.

'My friends say they don't like the taste,' she said, 'but I love it.'

David laughed. 'Wait until you taste cum,' he said. 'That's completely different.'

Meg fed her brother's rod back into her face and worked on it, thinking what he had said. She was tempted to let him spurt into her mouth but she wasn't sure how long it would take, and she wanted to feel him inside her. A fresh gob of his lubricant oozed down her throat and she squeezed his shaft tighter and used her tongue to lap at the underside of his glans, observing the play of expressions on his face - pain and pleasure and raw unadulterated lust as he watched his sister sucking his cock. The sight ratcheted up her excitement and she pulled his shaft free of her mouth.

'Fuck me, Soldier,' she said. 'On my bed.'

David took her hand and led her to her bedroom, and she lay on the clean white cover and stared up at him with hungry eyes. He climbed over her and they kissed, each tasting the other, and she felt the tip of his cock touching her pussy lips. Now that the moment had come she was frightened, not by the thought of losing her virginity but that she might be a disappointment to him. She glanced at his face, wondering what he was thinking but she could only see excitement.

'I don't want to hurt you, Meg,' he whispered. ' Lift your legs over my back and tell me if it hurts.'

But there was no pain -- only a growing pressure as he eased his hips forward. She felt the great purple head lodged at her vulva and the tight reluctant flesh resisting its entry. The pressure built rapidly but he still could not enter and she felt him readjust the angle of his thrust, and she clutched his waist to steady herself. For a few moments more there was no movement and Meg wondered if the was too small: that she and her brother were destined never to be joined and that all her dreams would end in humiliation. And then, suddenly, the head of his cock crowned into her. The pressure was replaced almost at once a feeling of fullness, of being stretched, and she cried out in surprise.

David lifted himself on his arms and watched spellbound as his cock penetrated his sister. He saw the lips of her pussy swallow the head, sliding aside to accept it in a slippery, clasping embrace, and he saw a rim of white cream oozing around the shaft as he sank into her delicious little body. Her fingers fluttered briefly on his waist and she cried out softly -- not in pain, but in wonder. Her cunt gripped him as he sank further through the narrow pelvic girdle and he felt its astonishing heat radiating through his turgid flesh. She rolled her hips further upward to ease the long slide, and her breath hissed softly through her teeth. 'Ah, ah,' she murmured. 'Ah, Jesus, David! Fuck...oh, yes.' The initial resistance had melted away to be replaced by one of tightness, of warm molten friction as he slid deeper.

'You're inside me, David,' she whispered, and her voice was filled with wonder. 'You're right inside me.' She felt him start to withdraw. 'No, no. Stay in me. Stay still for a moment.' Her eyes moved to their reflection in the mirrored wardrobe doors to one side of the bed: her own image: one she had seen a thousand times before, but never like this. It's like I'm watching somebody else, she thought. Watching them fuck. She studied the reflection closely, seeing the angle of her body and relating it to what she could feel. His cock felt smoother than the vibrator she sometimes used and it was warm too; and there was a greater sense of fullness deep within her, as if his knob was stretching her inner flesh.