Mouse Bk. 01 Ch. 02

"Are you drunk again?" she asked teasingly, but softly.

Michael stared back at her, frozen solid under her touch.

"Are you going to try to kiss me again? Make me kiss you?" she asked, in a breathy, kittenish, little girl voice.

"No," Michael snapped at her.

Maybe not, she thought, but she knew he would kiss her back if she kissed him. She had only been waiting for him to open his mouth, no matter what he said in reply. The moment he did, although the word that came out was "no," she pressed her lips to her brother's, forcing her tongue past his teeth, hunting frantically, trying to make the kiss as sexual as she could.

The doorbell rang abruptly, startling them both. Michael sprang to his feet, almost dumping Mouse on the floor. He held onto her at the last moment, lifting her and setting her on her feet with his strong hands and arms.

That act alone excited Mouse more than the kiss. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and a heat rising in her face, from the kiss, from the shock of the interruption, and then from the harsh, powerfully masculine touch of his hands saving and protecting her, just like he'd done when she was very young.

They looked up together to see Melanie's face pressed against the glass pane beside the front door, peering in. Michael turned to Mouse, speaking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Shit! What did she just see?"

Mouse didn't answer. She hoped to God that Melanie hadn't seen anything. What was she doing back here?

Michael strode to the door in a handful of long steps. He unlocked the bolt and pulled the door open.

"Come on in," he said, stepping eagerly aside to let her in. "I'm glad you came back, I..."

Mouse didn't let him finish.

"What's up, Mel?" she said cheerily.

Melanie looked between the two, sensing that something was up.

"Sorry to intrude. I just... have you two been at it again? Already? I've only been gone a moment."

"We were discussing the idea of Mouse moving over to your place," Michael said, shocking Mouse.

"No, that's too much of a burden on Mel," Mouse said immediately, maybe too quickly. "I'm fine right here. It's just one more day."

"Two more nights," Michael corrected, glaring meaningfully at her.

"That's right, two long nights where we'll be fast asleep, completely unable to bother each other in any way," Mouse countered, grinning evilly.

Melanie looked again between the two of them, clearly feeling uncomfortable. Maybe she had seen something through the windowpane.

"Look," she started, pausing when neither gave her their full attention. Michael and Mouse had their eyes locked on each other in a death embrace. "Look, I just came back because I was nervous about leaving you two alone. Michael was acting like he wanted you out, which seems to be the case, and I'm starting to think we were all silly to do this to the two of you."

Mouse turned on her with a cruel stare.

"We're fine."

She'd said it with a painfully loud period at the end of the sentence.

Melanie stood blinking nervously. It wasn't like her to show her nerves, or to back off, and she didn't do so easily now. She was the eldest. She and Mouse didn't argue much. Because of their age difference, and distance, they simply didn't cross paths, or swords, often. But as legendary as Mouse's temper was in their family, Melanie's need to control everything was just as well recognized.

This time, Melanie gave in first, surprisingly quickly.

"You'll be all right, Michael. It's only one more day," she said, defeated.

"And two nights," Mouse chirped happily.

"Sorry I interrupted," Melanie said with a weak smile, retreating from the room. Now that she'd lost, she seemed eager to get off of the field of battle. "I'll see you both at dinner tomorrow night. Please behave better then. Get everything out of your system now," she finished, already half out the door.

"We will," Mouse sang back, smiling wickedly yet again, first at Melanie, but then, more meaningfully, at Michael.

He looked back at her helplessly.

"We will not," he tried to say to her with authority.

It was adorable, she thought to herself. He'd tried to escape, and now he was going to pay. As soon as Melanie was gone, Mouse turned and headed into the kitchen, asking Michael if he wanted a beer. He said "no", and she returned with one for each of them anyway.

Michael accepted it begrudgingly, took a long sip, and sank again into his chair. He sat there nervously relaxed, like a patient awaiting a dentist's drill.

Mouse glided toward the entertainment center. As she moved she secretly watched Michael's reflection in the big bay windows, feeling a satisfying tingle as she caught him watching her ass. She casually dimmed the lights, without comment, then proceeded to turn on the stereo. She'd already picked the music out that morning, leaving it ready for this evening. Michael started to protest, as Mouse started to dance.

* * *

His objections died in his throat as soon as she started to move. Michael tried to numb himself with another quick swig from his bottle, knowing he had lost. It was one of his favorite songs, a slow, melodic, R&B ballad sung by rich voiced diva.

I 'm a l o s t
And lonesome g i r l
S p i n n i n g through
A l o n e l y world

Mouse swayed easily, erotically with the music. Michael felt himself falling into her body as soon as she began to move, as he always did when watching her dance. He watched her smooth, feminine lines undulate and bend and spin, drawing his eyes irresistibly from one part of her body to another, and another.

It didn't help that her dress was so short and tight that it seemed that she was already naked, or that it might creep further up or fall down at any moment as a delightful consequence of her movements.

Wanting some - o n e
To t a k e me d o w n
And m a k e me c o m e to him

He felt his body reacting to the sight of hers. He silently scolded himself. She was his little sister. He tried to fight back the feeling, or to look away, but found he couldn't.

And make me c o m e to h i m

* * *

Mouse tried not to look at him, tried not to see how he was reacting. She knew very well what her dancing did to him. She did it as often as she could. It had always been one way she could touch him, sexually, even though he was her brother, and she could never feel the touch of his skin the way she wanted to.

She'd always promised herself she would never let any of this actually happen. He was her brother. But it had happened. It was happening.

I'm a s w e e t
and bitter g i r l
Trampled b y
An u n - c a r i n g world

Mouse felt her own body warm as she danced. Her heart sped. When she thought about touching Michael, it started to pound. The warmth turned quickly to heat, centered in her hips.

Needing some - o n e
To t a k e me d o w n
And make me c o m e to h i m

Mouse braced herself for the moment when the music would pause, and then swell, as the singer belted out the chorus soulfully. Mouse put the same feeling and drama into her dance, like a lover building towards climax after a time of slow, tender foreplay. She wanted Michael to feel that with her.

T a k e me d o w n
H o l d me d o w n
And make me c o m e to him

H o l d me d o w n
And m a k e me c o m e for h i m
F o r h i m

Just once more, she thought. She would only be here for one more day. She could have two more nights with him. Then she'd return to Chicago, and it would never happen again. But she could have her brother now, the way she'd always wanted him, the way he took her last night. For just two more nights, she could give in to her desires, and be his, be more than just his little sister.

Mouse worked her way over toward her brother, still keeping her gaze away from him. As she approached he stood up, seemingly to stop her. Once at his feet, dancing almost against him, with him, she looked warily up into his eyes, hoping he'd see and respond to the incestuous lust she knew clouded hers.

His eyes were smoldering. She wasn't sure if it was with desire or anger. For a brief moment she was both afraid and excited by the thought that he might grab her, to hold her, to stop her from dancing. She wanted both. She wanted her brother to stop her, to tame her. And she wanted her brother to hold her, to possess her.

She wanted him to touch her, any way he wished.

He didn't move. He stood there, holding her gaze, arms at his sides, the beer bottle forgotten, dangling by the neck from the fingers of one hand. Mouse continued to dance gently for her big brother. It was all for him, intensely sexual and for him. She made it clear with her gaze now irresistibly locked on his face.

He still didn't visibly react. He didn't touch her, or move with her. Mouse dropped her gaze to his abdomen. She eased her body forward. Swaying from side to side, she brushed her nipples across him several times. She closed her eyes as she did it, enjoying the feel of her brother's body against hers in that soft, indiscrete, dangerously incestuous touch. Then she looked up at him again, more shyly this time, feeling less secure.

Michael raised his hands to find her shoulders, then dropped them again to his sides. He stepped back abruptly, conflicted, and dropped down again into his recliner.

* * *

When the song ended, Mouse picked her own beer up from the coffee table, pausing to take a long drink. She glanced briefly, sidelong, at Michael, then looked away around the room, then down at the ground. She seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable, for a change.

This wasn't easy for her, either, Michael thought. He wanted her. He knew he did, he'd admitted it to himself, and after her dance, he struggled to stay away. She wanted him, too, obviously. But they both found it hard to cross the line now, the one that had so easily vanished the night before.

Despite their lust, neither could dive so eagerly into incest again.

She eased over to him, then supplely climbed into his lap, straddling him in his chair. Michael abruptly dismissed the thought that she'd give up. It was difficult for him, but not her.

She'd had to hike her short skirt up to get her legs apart and around his. Michael felt a wave of panic, along with a seizing thrill, as she exposed more of her thighs, as well as her pubic hair. She hadn't worn panties, again, or had taken them off at the bar. A wave of heat at her crotch pressed against his legs. He fought back the desire to feel it pressed instead against his shameful erection.

The next song began, and Mouse swayed again, now on his lap, even as she took another sip of her beer. She did this for some time, dancing just above him, on him, with her eyes on his. It was all eerily similar to the night before, but with their roles reversed.

His beautiful baby sister held his gaze with her intense, dark brown eyes, her black pupils widely dilated in the dim light. She was looking at him as if she were waiting, patiently waiting, for him to snap like before. Michael maintained his composure, refusing to surrender to his lust.

Mouse did as he'd expected her to do, and had been quietly wishing she both would and wouldn't do. She leaned forward, slowly, deliberately, to touch her lips to his. He didn't dodge, or push her away. He should, he knew he should, as his sister tried to kiss him.

At first it was so soft and gentle, it was almost as if they hadn't touched, as if there was a paper's width of space between them the whole time.

He didn't react. Her lips started moving over his, still gently, still with whisper soft touches. She found his upper lip with hers, then his lower, then the corners of his mouth. She pulled back a moment to look into his eyes, then continued her gentle lover's attack.

Michael felt his hands resting on her hips, not knowing how they'd gotten there. She felt so warm and slight in his grip. Her narrow waist, with a sudden curve expanding outward into the wondrous shape of her ass, filled his hands as she rocked gently in time to the music.

He became conscious then, too, of his stiff cock straining out toward her. She deliberately pressed forward and down on it with her hips. In a panic he knew she felt it, that she knew his composure was a lame masquerade.

Michael tried to avoid finally yielding to Mouse's soft, warm, teasing lips by thinking about her as his sister. She was his little sister. Her kisses were incestuous.

He saw her in his memory as a little girl. He remembered helping her with math. Like the time she'd said she had decided she wanted to marry him, he thought, then realized his mistake as it gave him a sudden thrill. He remembered picking her up from dance lessons when she was young, then pictured her again seductively moving for him, last night, and tonight. He pictured her in her prom dress, remembering belatedly how beautiful and sexy she'd been, and how desperately he'd wanted to kiss her then, too.

Her tongue was in his mouth now, and his own tongue had responded eagerly on its own, dancing with hers. It was the one way he felt comfortable dancing with her. He didn't even remember opening his mouth to her, letting her tongue find his. It just happened while he was thinking about her, his little sister.

As she took her mouth away Michael felt a painful longing grow in him. She looked at him lovingly. He knew he must be looking at her the same way.

"Don't make me beg, Michael," she breathed at him. "I will, if it's what you want. I'll beg for you."

Then the shameless Mouse came out to play. She took her bottle of beer. She pressed the neck of it to her breast, casually rubbing the rim of the bottle around the rim of her nipple, firm, dark and easily visible beneath the fabric of her tight dress, straining toward him at the peak of the delicious curve of her breast.

Mouse tipped the bottle. Beer flowed over the dress, over her nipple, soaking it. The fabric clung more tightly to her skin. It became more sheer, clearly exposing the deep, dark outline of the perfect circle of her nipple in the center of her perfect breast.

Michael felt himself irresistibly drawn toward it, as Mouse's free hand reached around the back of his bald head, pulling him into her chest, drawing his mouth over her wet nipple. He tasted beer mixed with cotton. He felt the fabric against his tongue, along with the hard resistance of her erect nipple. The soft flesh of her breast pressed against the sides of his mouth and face, giving way pleasingly as she pulled him harder against her.

My sister's nipple, Michael made himself think. He'd thought it would stop him, but it only excited him further. My sister's tit. My little sister's sweetly magnificent tit, he thought, and suddenly his mouth was hungrily sucking at the beer, trying to get her completely into his mouth. His tongue probed harder, licking beer from the fabric. He heard a sharp intake of breath, telling him that she enjoyed the sensation as much as he did.

* * *

Mouse's eyes shot open. She stared at the ceiling, feeling a whimper rising in her throat. She fought it back, afraid of frightening her brother into coming to his senses. She failed. The sound escaped her throat as a short, high-pitched, erotic squeal. Mouse was delighted when Michael responded by moving his hand up from her hip to cup her other breast.

She pressed herself into him, grinding harder, one tit in his hand, the other in his mouth. Mouse began a gentle rocking motion, fucking his mouth with her nipple and her tit, while rubbing the wet patch between her legs against anything she could.

The moment he withdrew his mouth she found it with hers again. She relished that kiss most of all, tasting the beer in his mouth, finding his tongue, then whimpering into him as his tongue pushed hers back and invaded her, tangling frantically and uncontrollably with hers.

She broke the kiss to smile at him wickedly. With one hand she pulled the top of her dress down below her one damp breast, then poured a healthy stream of beer over her bare tit. She moved the bottle to drench the cloth of her dress on the other side as well, exposing that nipple's dark shadow to him.

Mouse held his eyes as she did it, then his gaze was drawn to the beer glistening on her flesh. Finally he dove on her, licking and sucking the beer from her skin with a satisfyingly animal lust.

Mouse laughed and squealed at the feel of him, delighted that she'd driven her stale big brother into such a passionate state. She enjoyed the game, and played it longer, spilling beer on them both in the process. It dripped down onto his crotch. She looked at the wet patch spreading there, and in a sudden loss of control, she knew she had to play the game herself. She emptied the bottle onto him.

She was on her feet a moment later. He reached out to her, trying to keep her close. She held his hand in hers, gently, signaling that she couldn't be parted from him, either. She circled around behind his chair. He kept his eyes on hers, and she on his. Once behind him, she agilely crawled over his shoulder, sliding down his chest and stomach, inverted, to press her face against the hard, hot, damp crotch of his pants.

"Mouse, no," Michael whispered.

"Yes, Michael, yes," she whispered back, sounding like a little girl, but one overly excited by a woman's lust.

Then her mouth tasted the beer, and felt the pleasingly hard bulge beneath it. Her hands found the buckles and snaps of his pants quickly and easily. She expertly pulled his waiting cock into her hands as he reluctantly moaned encouragement. His hands, Michael's beautiful hands, had found her ass, where his fingers were squeezing her flesh tightly, almost painfully.

As she took her brother's cock into her mouth, she slipped one leg over his head so that her cunt would be in his face. She raced her mouth over his cock, eliciting more powerful groans from her brother, before teasing him with her dirty thoughts.

"Lick my pussy, Michael. Lick my tight, little, mouse hole."

He did as he was told. She hadn't worn any panties. His thickly muscular tongue easily found it's way inside her. She screamed with his cock in her mouth as she felt his touch. His strong hands gripped her harder, pulling her violently against his face. His tongue twisted and searched, trying to penetrate her deeply. His lips found her cunt lips, and her clitoris, nibbling and sucking everything delightfully.

Mouse fought the urge to speak more, to remind him of their incestuous relationship. The thoughts, the act, the thoughts of the act, all excited her immensely. She wanted to convey it to him, to excite him with it, to share her feelings, but she couldn't risk frightening him. Not yet, not when his cock had only been in her hands and mouth for a moment.

She gently made love to her brother's cock with her mouth, now. She took her time, enjoying the feel of it against her lips and tongue for the very first time, her loving brother's thick, long, deliciously wicked cock. She ached to make him cum, imagining it filling her mouth, but knowing she wanted more than that tonight. In time, she willed herself to release him.

Mouse pushed her head up off of his lap, simultaneously driving her cunt more firmly against Michael's face. He responded by thrusting his tongue further into her. She screamed her satisfaction.

"Oh, Michael! Oh, Michael! Wicked Michael!"

She twisted suddenly in his grip, falling free, almost to the floor, laughing like a child as she did it. She smiled up at him as she spun around to sit on his lap again, this time facing away from him. She took each of his hands in hers, holding them as she twisted her head to kiss him again.

Mouse moaned into his mouth as soon as their lips met, then pressed his adored hands against her breasts. He squeezed them roughly, making her moan ever more loudly into their kiss. She felt his cock, hard and hot, between her legs, pressing against her greedy, hungry cunt.