Mouse Bk. 01 Ch. 02

She needed him inside her. Mouse reluctantly released his hands. He left them covering her tits, squeezing and fondling them ceaselessly. Her own hands found his cock, her brother's cock. She lifted her hips enough to guide him into her, then settled slowly, deliciously slowly, onto his cock as it impaled her. A soft whimper escaped her throat at first, but continued, growing to a squeal and then a full scream, once he had completely filled her.

"Oh, yes, Michael. Fuck me. Fuck your baby sister like you should," she wailed, finally, recklessly exposing her thoughts to him.

In response Michael bucked his hips, either to move inside her, or simply to penetrate her further, Mouse was unsure. The effect on him and her was electric, though, as they both felt her big brother respond energetically to her pleas.

"Yes, Big Brother, yes. Fuck your little sister whore as deep as you can."

"Fuck my tight, little, mouse hole, Michael. Fuck my incestuous, little hole."

He groaned then. His sounds were like music to Mouse. He was bucking rapidly now, driving her closer and closer to orgasm. She felt herself losing the ability to think, to focus. Everything shrank and constricted to the feel of his cock pressing against the flesh inside her cunt, and the wet, slippery feel of it sliding inside her, tugging gently, teasingly on her clit as it did so.

As if he knew what she was feeling, one of Michael's large, fantastically sexy hands slid down her body to find her clitoris. The moment he touched her she exploded, no longer aware of what she was doing.

"Oh, God, Big Brother. Oh, God, I love you! I love you! I love your beautiful, forbidden cock, Michael. I love it, I love you, I love my brother's cock..."

* * *

Her words and screams were driving all reason from him. Her body felt so amazingly supple and soft in his hands, and so small, so easily manipulated. He felt a wicked power course through him, like he could do anything with her, anything to her.

She was his sister. What he was doing was so wrong. He was fucking her, and he loved fucking her, and he was never going to stop. He was going to find a way to fuck her harder.

Michael moved his hands back up to her sweet little tits, squeezing her entire body more firmly against his own chest, pinning her there. Then he stood up, with his cock still inside her, as she screamed more loudly. The sound was thrilling.

He carried her that way a few steps, to the couch, then lowered her onto it. She whimpered as his cock slipped out of her. She quickly climbed to her knees, lifting her beautiful round ass to him, wiggling it whorishly, beckoning to him with the pink, glistening flesh inside her open cunt.

"Please, Michael," she whimpered, crying. "Please come back inside me. I need my brother inside me."

He relished the onslaught of screams she made as he satisfied her need, plunging violently into her to drive her down onto her belly on the couch. He grabbed one of her shoulders in each hand to hold her steady, then thrust himself into her with his hips as hard as he could, over and over, quickly, almost cruelly.

The words that came from her mouth were tangled and tortured, almost incoherent.

"Oh, Michael, don't ever stop. Promise you'll fuck me like this forever. Promise you'll fuck your baby sister again and again, tonight, tomorrow, forever."

She repeated the plea over and over, reminding him how evil their act was, but begging him to accept it. He listened, fucking her ceaselessly, but silently.

"Please, Michael. I adore your cock. I love your cock. I've always loved you, your eyes, your hands, your body, your cock. I have to have my brother, Michael, please promise I'll always have my brother's body and cock."

Michael hadn't intended to make any promises. He told himself over and over, just this once, he could do this just this once, he had to do this just this once. Then he felt his cock stiffen and convulse. Mouse's pussy was so tight and hot against it, he didn't know how he'd lasted this long.

"You can't marry me, but you can fuck me," she squealed between quick, labored breaths. "I'll be your whore, Michael, just like you said I was. You and Mel called me a whore, and I am."

The mention of their older sister jarred him. He felt wicked and dirty, fucking his baby sister. He could see in his mind the look of shock and horror Melanie would have on her face if she caught them.

But he longed to stay inside Mouse, and to fill her with his cum. His little sister's cunt was so tight and sweet. It enveloped his cock with a hot, drenching, grip that sucked everything out of him. He ached to come inside her. As if sensing it, she begged him for it, too.

"Michael, come in me now, Michael, I need my brother's cum in me now. Fill me with incestuous cum, Michael, make me an incestuous whore by filling me with my sweet, loving brother's wicked, hot cum."

Michael felt the soft skin of her ass meet his hips each time he thrust into her, then the soft fleshy resistance of her cunt near the end of each stroke. Her words brought the cum up, into and through his cock in a moment. It burst from him in a delightful, nasty, unstoppable feeling of complete and total release.

"Promise me, Michael! Come in your sister and promise her you'll come again," she screamed. "Promise me you'll fuck me full of your cum again!"

"I can't, Mouse, I can't. You're my sister, my beautiful baby sister."

"I'm your whore, Michael, my brother's little whore."

"You're my sister, Mouse. My fucking sister, I'm fucking my fucking sister..."

The words, the admission of his own guilt, drove him over the edge. Michael couldn't contain himself as he came again and again into her, his cock jerking each time as it shot more of his seed into her. He couldn't bite back his next words. They exploded from his mouth of their own accord.

"Yes, Mouse, yes, I promise, I have to fuck you, I need to fuck you. I love my little sister, I love her cunt, I love filling her with cum. I'll cum for you, in you, whenever you want, Mouse, I'll fill your tight little mouse hole with your brother's cock and cum whenever you want."

* * *

He lay on top of her, panting, sweating, pressing her down into the cushions of the couch with his bulk. Mouse lay beneath him, enjoying the smothering, protective feel of his body over hers. She panted herself, trying to recover, and to regain her wits.

She was afraid it wouldn't have been possible, that nothing could match their previous night, that she'd be disappointed. She wasn't. It did. It was every bit as sensual and wonderful and memorable.

The words had poured out of his mouth like the cum pouring from his cock, warming and filling her. They came in an amazingly wonderful series of growls, animalistic in their intensity and honesty. She knew it was true, that it was how he felt. She knew that he loved her, too, and that from now on she would have him always.

Her brother would fuck her again, and again, and again.

Mouse hadn't wanted to come herself. She'd told herself before this started tonight that it was only for him, that she wanted to be with him only for his pleasure. She couldn't let herself enjoy it too much. She couldn't let herself come, let alone try to.

She did. She had to. He had made her come with his intensity, and his promises.

<8 Breakfast

The morning light attacked Michael again the next morning, just as painfully and viciously as the day before, reinforced this time with an irritating collection of noises from downstairs. He wanted to groan dramatically, but couldn't bring himself to do even that. His hands rubbed the sleep from his eyes, too gently, so he pressed harder, until points of light glittered in the darkness behind his closed lids.

He stood, threw on a robe, and headed to the stairway. At the top of the stairs he froze, realizing his mouth tasted foul. He turned back, scuttling into the master bathroom to brush. In mid-stroke he stopped, glaring at himself in the mirror. "I want to taste fresh," he thought disparagingly, "in case my sister kisses me."

He finished brushing, rinsed, and wiped his face. His head ached. He looked a moment at the razor, feeling his stubble with one hand, then dropped it to his side in disgust. He strode out and down the stairs.

Mouse was standing in front of the stove with her back to him as he approached the kitchen. She was wearing a gold, shiny, satin camisole, one that was clearly too small, so it rode up at the bottom, and no doubt was too low in front. She must have customized it, he thought, to get that effect. She was always "improving" her clothes. She'd done it tease a lover with what she had waiting for him.

To tease a lover, Michael thought again.

She had also donned a whore's metallic gold high heels and a housewife's white lace apron, tied loosely so the lovely curves of her breasts showed at the sides. The bottom of her ass cheeks, and the space below her ass and between her legs, was clearly, subtly visible, revealed to him invitingly by the camisole and the high heels, like a drink offered by a waitress. He admired how small, round and tight her ass was, and remembered clearly how wonderful it had felt in his hands.

He stumbled in. Mouse artfully gave him time to be seated at the dinette before breaking the silence of the bright morning.

"Did I exhaust you?" she asked without turning. "You slept in. Again."

Keeping his eyes on her backside, and keeping to their familiar pattern of communication, he answered a question with a question.

"Exactly how much lingerie did you bring for a four night stay with your brother? And why?"

Mouse smiled to herself, ignoring him.

"Do you like it?" she asked sweetly.

"It's... nice. Maybe a bit much for breakfast."

"What makes you think you're getting any for breakfast?" she teased, without turning. "What makes you think you're getting any at all, again?" she added with a grin, glancing over her shoulder.

"I'm not. I mean, we shouldn't," Michael answered awkwardly.

"Of course not. Me being your hot, little sister, and all," she replied, almost singing the words.

"Exactly," he added with a deeper tone of authority, trying to sound more in control, trying to act the part of the older brother.

Mouse put some eggs and bacon onto a plate, turned around, and walked to him. It was amazing to him how she could sway erotically in the morning, through a kitchen, wearing an apron and carrying a breakfast plate.

She had no make up on, too. That was a shock. He couldn't remember ever seeing her without makeup, at least not since she was a kid. She still looked great. He wondered why she wore so much, and so often. He liked her better this way.

She put the plate on the table in front of him. Faster than he could react, she spun around to the side to drop onto his lap, looping her cool, soft hands around his neck. She quickly parted his robe to play with his chest hair, planting a small gentle kiss his forehead, and then his lips, first softly, and then hard and hungry. Michael tried not to respond to the delightful string of sensations.

When it ended, Michael mastered himself enough to speak.

"We have to talk".

Mouse shot up off his lap and shot back "No, we don't", retreating part way to the stove, her alluring backside to him again.

"Mouse, we have to talk. We're brother and sister and we just fucked like newlyweds."

She stopped, looking over her shoulder, carefully and consciously, he was sure. She arched her back, accentuating the bewitching curves of her ass and tits. She smiled shyly at him, saying demurely, "Newlyweds? We're married? Like I always dreamed?"

"Mouse, stop it, we have to talk."

She turned away again, continuing to the stove, sternly repeating, "No, we don't." She picked up steam then, a touch of anger swelling in her voice. "People who are in trouble have to talk. People whose relationships are going the wrong way have to talk. We're not going the wrong way. Our relationship is better today than it's ever been."

She stopped at the stove, putting her hands on its edges and studying them intently, still keeping her back to him. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other uneasily, then settled on straightening both legs at once, so that she once again thrust her ass back towards him temptingly.

Michael looked achingly at the space between her legs, at the narrow gap between her two smoothly sculpted thighs, and the wisp of pubic hair silhouetted there. He had to fight down his natural reaction to the sight. He knew he was being manipulated, but she was so good at it.

"Mouse... this isn't a 'relationship'. We're br..."

She spun and virtually lunged at him, ripping the apron off. Mouse violently grabbed a kitchen chair with one hand, turning its back towards Michael with a thud. She straddled it and sat abruptly, spreading her legs around its back, leaning forward at him with her hands clutching the tops of the chairback.

Dark brown nipples poked out just above her too low camisole. Black curls of pubic hair were now clearly visible behind the rungs of the chairback. Michael saw everything. He didn't let his gaze linger, but he noticed and it had the desired effect, starting a maelstrom inside him. Outwardly he kept his composure.

From her position there, posing, she just stared at him mutinously. She sat, staring right into his eyes, like the last two nights, yet not. The emotion was definitely different.

"Very subtle, Mouse. It's what you always do," he tried to bark. "Flash your tits and your cunt to deflect..."

As violently as she sat down, she jerked up, pushing the chair forward to fall on the ground in a thunderous clatter.

"You're vulgar. I hate that word," she snapped, storming back to the stove, staring at a spot on the wall, yet again purposely keeping her back to him.

"Everyone hates that word," Michael replied. "I just said it to piss you off. Like I always do."

"It worked."

"Yes, it did, it seems."

In reply, she picked up a pot, then dropped it loudly on another burner, just to make the noise.

"Mouse, don't be mad. But we don't have a relat..."

"Yes, we do!!!" she interrupted loudly, her voice trembling, while banging the pot again. "We've had a relationship for twenty nine years, since the day I was born."

Michael was shocked by her growing tantrum.

"That's different," he tried. "That's not..."

"So we've had a relationship for two nights? Is that it, to you?" she hammered, interrupting again. "A two night stand? Fuck your kid sister, once or twice for grins, notch the belt and move on?" Her fury was building. She had tried to make it sound as dirty and hurtful as she could. She succeeded.

"Mouse, no..."

It struck him that he had no idea how he had mysteriously wound up back here, fighting with a woman in this kitchen, arguing about a relationship. And it wasn't even a relationship, damn it! A year ago he'd washed his hands of fighting over nothing, of fighting just for something to do, because there was nothing else there to fill the void. And here he was again.

Well, not quite again, he thought. There certainly was more here than just fighting between them, even if they didn't act like it, even without the sex. They did have a bond, as warped as their usual dance might seem to everyone else. He did love her, deeply. He was always deeply involved with her. He had always looked out for her, even when he was fuming at her. That must mean something.

And his ex had rarely worn lingerie. Certainly not in the morning, and absolutely not while making him breakfast. Michael admired Mouse's curves again, thinking too that even ten years ago, his ex had never looked nearly as good as Mouse did now. As good as his sister did now, he reminded himself.

She spun around again, glaring at him, snapping back at him, pulling him back into the fight.

"Some quickie fucks for you? That's what this was? That's what you want this to be? Fuck your sister and move on? Well it's more to me." A single tear was coming down her cheek, jolting Michael into silence.

"Do you know how many men I've picked up and fucked because they looked a bit like you? Do you know how many men I've told to call me 'Mouse' as I held them inside me?" The words were coming fast now. "Sometimes, if I knew I didn't want to see them again, I'd call them 'Michael' while I was in their arms. I'd wait until I was ready to come, and I'd say your name over and over. Usually they would freeze up and it would ruin everything, but I'd do it anyway, as soon as I started to come, just to be a little closer to being with you. Just to make the fantasy a little more real."

It all came out so quickly, so unexpectedly, an unsettling rush of words and images.

She continued to glare at him, tears now running down both cheeks, but anger and defiance in her face.

He stared back at her, dumbfounded. This was absolutely not what he had expected. He'd never dreamed she felt this way, that she'd thought about him like that, too, for that long. He had always been sure it was only him, that it was all in his own, perverse head. That he was alone with his secret desires.

Even after the last two nights, it hadn't occurred to him that Mouse had thought about him before now. He thought it was all just sort of happening, and she played along for her own sordid idea of fun.

"That first night, when you were kissing me, I was so afraid," she continued, her voice more steady. "Couldn't you tell? I was afraid to move or speak or blink or breathe, afraid that you would stop and it would all be over. I was so afraid that you'd remember we were brother and sister, and you'd come to your senses and push me away. And I needed it, I needed you.

"I think about you a lot, and I've always wanted you to think about me that way, too. And then you actually said it out loud. You asked me. You asked me. Remember? You asked me how I loved you, and I told you."

It all came out so randomly, a thunderstorm of thoughts and emotions and feelings and secrets. She stopped a moment, catching her breath, waiting for him to speak.

Michael was silent.

"Hadn't you ever thought about me... like that? Before now?" she asked, a silent plea in her eyes.

Michael still hesitated, holding back the shameful truth. He couldn't answer. It was all so sudden, so extreme, so hard to get hold of. How had this all happened so quickly? He looked down at the ground. He dodged the question, a coward, changing the subject, saying "I didn't know you were so obses..."

"Obsessed?" she finished for him with a crack like a whip. "With you? Don't flatter yourself... I'm not 'obsessed'. It's just a fantasy. One I enjoy." She closed her eyes, biting her lip, adding almost only to herself, "really, really enjoy."

"It's not a fantasy anymore," he interrupted, then paused. Her eyes snapped open, eagerly hoping. "It's real," he continued. "And it's dangerous."

They froze time in between them, locked in a long, silent gaze. Michael wondered how often they were going to spend staring at each other like this. It was becoming an unsettling habit.

Suddenly, she glided forward, saying deeply, almost growling, "I like danger".

She fell to her knees before him. She opened his robe to take his cock in her mouth before he could react. No, that was another lie. He didn't want to react. He was never going to stop her.

She looked up at him sinfully, his soft cock half in her mouth, the tears still wet and glistening on her cheeks, but with eyes wide and in control and waiting. She let it flop out as it started to harden.

"You can do all the talking you want, big brother," she purred. "I'll listen. While I do this."

She met his eyes while taking him fully into her mouth. Without even knowing he was doing it, he moved his hands behind her head and held it, firmly but gently, as she bobbed up and down, taking him in and out, covering him with warmth and wet, continually tickling his cock head with her tongue as she pressed with her lips.