Mouse Bk. 05 Ch. 02

All through her own indulgence, the loving kisses she rained on her brother's face never stopped. She tried to stray close to his mouth, tempting him, testing him to see if it was something he wanted, but Michael was frozen rigid now underneath her relentless affections.

By her junior year in college, things had unexpectedly changed. She herself hadn't changed. If anything she'd gotten more wild, more bold. She tried more things, almost anything. But the rush wasn't there anymore. She still loved sex, she was addicted to sex, but something was missing, something she couldn't identify and so couldn't recapture.

Michael's sloppy, slick cock fell out of her unexpectedly. She felt a brief remorse that that part of the adventure was over, that making love to her sexy brother had come to an end. She'd probably never be able to repeat the experience.

Mel was hit with a wave of fear and anxiety as she was struck with an image of how Michael might act the next time he saw her, in the daylight, with any now still lingering effects of the alcohol long gone, but with the knowledge that his big sister forever had traces of his cum in her mouth and her pussy, traces that would never completely wash away, ever.

She kissed his neck and face even more eagerly then, staying farther from his mouth even than before, but kissing him faster and harder. Melanie felt sinful and abusive. She'd raped her brother. He cooperated some, yes, enjoyed it thoroughly, yes, but she had forced it on him.

She'd violated her little brother's trust.

She'd let the alcohol take control of her again, and the old Melanie had come out again. She was once more the wanton, insatiable, college succubus that needed a wild, forbidden, sexual experience to feed something ravenous that had long ago been awakened deep inside her.

That feeling had returned, however briefly. She could name it now. She couldn't back in college, when she'd first had it, then lost it, but she could name it now.

In the daylight, Melanie was in control. After college, having sex, Melanie was in control. Melanie was always, always in control, because if she wasn't, that side of her might come out. It was the sinful side, her wicked side, her secret, lustful side.

Deep down she knew something now that she had never even considered or suspected. She loved incest. She had to fight it. She had to control it. But the feeling it gave her, the act of making love to her brother, her family, the fantastically sexy human flesh that was forbidden to her, that was the rush, or a form of it.

Doing the unthinkable. Opening herself up, letting a part of her come out that defied her own self control and judgement, that was the rush.

Doing anything and everything that would shock anyone and everyone, including her own prudish self, that was the rush.

She wanted to be submissively on her knees, covered with cum, tits and face, lips and mouth, before a crowd of shocked and fascinated onlookers. She wanted people to see her, covered in cum, knowing that she'd already swallowed more than any woman should, with still more left to decorate her still un-contented, always lust filled face.

She wanted them to know what she'd done, and what she still wanted to do even more.

Now she wanted them all to know that the cum she wore like makeup was her own baby brother's. She couldn't, but she did. She wanted them to know that she'd willingly covered herself with hot, incestuous cum for everyone to see. Melanie wanted people to see the wicked side of her, abandoning all reason and control.

People had to see the bad Melanie.

Melanie let her body calm and her kisses subside. She lay on her brother, holding him, enjoying his warmth and his sweat and the hair all over his body. He felt male. She felt female. She actually felt tiny, spread out on top of him, an unusual feeling for her. She felt feminine and tiny and lonely and insecure. Strong Big Sister felt insecure, wishing she could lie in the arms of her fabulous baby brother, the brother she had bound to the bed and raped.

Surprisingly, the feeling was good. For now, she wasn't in control. No one was.

Melanie waited a moment before getting up to try to repair what she'd just done to all of their lives.

"I love you, Baby Brother, remember that," she whispered, then abruptly stood up to be Melanie again.

<8 Remorse

Michael had fallen asleep again. Melanie was cleaned up, on the outside, and ready for bed. The effects of the alcohol were fading fast, while exhaustion, both physical and emotional, were overwhelming her.

She already had regrets. As she felt herself coming to her senses, she was tempted to make herself yet another drink, to deaden the quick of the oncoming pain and torment, which she'd only feel all the more deeply with a sober mind.

She settled for a glass of water and some asprin.

She'd incongruously donned a pair of flannel pajamas, like a prison jumpsuit she was now forced to wear for her crimes. She slipped silently into Michael's room one final time, as he snored quietly, once again desperately afraid of wakening him.

As she removed the handcuffs, every slightest clank seemed to echo off the walls. She was certain he would awaken, but the alcohol, the late hour, and their combined exertions had clearly taken their toll. He lay there, beautiful, handsome to her, peacefully breathing, his face showing a touch of rather attractive light beard growth, his features calm but sharp and masculine.

For an insane moment, Melanie desperately wanted to kiss her brother. Not gently, not tenderly, not sisterly. What she couldn't do with his cock inside her, she wanted with all of her soul to do now. She wanted to passionately kiss him, hard, willfully, surrendering her entire body and being to him in one long, deep, consuming kiss.

But as fast as it hit her, the feeling passed. The thought of it quickly turned from elation to revulsion. She didn't know why, or why the change came so suddenly, but it made instant sense. The revulsion was right. If anything, it was strange that she should have ever thought otherwise. It became the most abhorrent thing she could think of, to kiss her brother so passionately, so sexually.

It would be a moral betrayal, an act of incest. It would be a betrayal to her brother, and her duties to him as his big sister. Most of all, surprisingly, it felt like it would be an irreparable betrayal to Mouse. Melanie scowled outwardly, as her soul laughed grimly on the inside.

After all of this, after all they'd done, all that Mouse and Michael had done, all that Melanie had done, all that she had seen, all that she had thought and imagined, after all of this, after sucking and fucking her brother against his will, even as she still clung possessively to her shameful fantasies of doing far more wicked things with him, she was utterly repulsed by the idea of kissing him.

Melanie held his face very gently in one hand. She planted a quick, cold peck on Michael's cheek, then released him. She quietly placed his car keys on the chair with his clothes, and was off to her own bed without another glance back.

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