Mouse Bk. 06 Ch. 04

"She's such a good little girl, isn't she, Michael" Melanie said huskily from beneath her. "Such a nasty, tasty, good little girl."

Mouse's hands grabbed tightly onto the back of Michael's bald scalp, clinging to him. She could feel the hard, smooth skin at the back of his skull with her finger tips.

His hands, meanwhile, his beautiful, strong, gigantic, delicious hands brutally dug into her thigh, supporting her, and firmly squashed her tit flat, sending tingles out from that nipple, and holding her tightly against his sweaty, hairy frame.

His breath tickled her ear.

"Come for your sister the whore, Mouse. Come for your brother lover and your sister whore."

He commanded her to come, and she did. She loved him so much, her body loved him so much, she came on command.

Mouse screamed, and screamed. She bucked and quivered as the orgasm took her. She felt her cunt muscles pulsing, grabbing at Michael's cock. She felt her pubic bone shuddering against Melanie's mouth, clamped immovably on and around her clit.

The wrenching orgasm continued for ages.

* * *

Melanie awoke, very near morning, in the pitch dark in the bed beside her brother and sister. Mouse and Michael both panted beside her, their bodies romantically and beautifully entwined. Mel feigned sleep, rolling only her head to the side to watch covertly, spying on their so wrong and so impossibly right union.

Mouse lay on top of Michael, with her legs spread, knees up under his armpits, arms wrapped behind his neck, her mouth breathing heavily beside his ear. His own thrusts were restrained, obviously intended to keep from waking Melanie. Mouse compensated by writhing subtly atop him, helping to move his cock inside of her.

"Come in me, Michael. Give me a baby."

Melanie felt herself tense in shock. She half closed her eyes, trying to mask her conscious presence, in case they'd sensed her reaction. They didn't.

"Give me a baby, Michael. Fill me with cum and give me a baby."

"You're so beautiful, Mouse. Take my cock, Mouse. Take my cock with your fucking tight baby sister cunt."

His voice was low, deep and husky, and brutally sexy, to Melanie, in the bitter, thin light of the darkness.

"That's all I want, Michael," she breathed into him. "That's all I want, is your cock. Give me your cock, and your cum, and your baby. That's all I ever want, Michael, my darling brother's cock, and cum, and his babies. Give me babies, Michael. Give me a baby."

"Take my cock, Mouse. Take all of my cock and my cum. It's yours, it's only yours. My cock and my cum are yours, my beauty, all yours."

Mouse shuddered, obviously coming yet again, the little minx. She bit her lip to hold back the sounds. Her eyes opened, then, locking on Melanie's apparently sleeping form. She was glad she'd half drooped her lids.

Mouse stared straight at her as she came, while continuing her pleas in a tremulous, soft voice, almost as if she were crying them.

"I love you. I love you. Give me a baby, Michael. I love you. Cum inside me and put a baby in my belly. Put my brother's baby in my belly."

Melanie hoped to God that this was only a game, and that Mouse was still on the pill.

"I love you, Mouse, I so fucking love you," he groaned softly back at her.

"Then be a daddy for me, Michael. Be my baby's daddy. Give me a baby. Love me a baby."

Michael groaned as he stiffened, clinging tightly to Mouse's tiny body. Melanie admired the way his muscles bunched and rippled, in his arms and legs, ass and stomach and even his back. He was so big and powerful, he looked like he might tear his little sister apart during his climax. Mouse tightened with him, clawing him feverishly, helping to hold him inside her as he came.

Melanie lay there, watching and listening, as Mouse and Michael both subsided. Afterward the couple lay together, embracing, entwined, only one person, for now, for a while, in the dark, in private, away from the world, with only their sister to know their ultimate pleasure and sorrow.

Melanie fought back a small tear, knowing for herself how badly they wanted each other, each other and even more, and what they needed but could simply never have.

<8 Exits

Mouse hastily, irritably, stuffed her bag into the overhead compartment, then quite literally plopped down into her seat. She hoped to God no one sat next to her on the flight. She couldn't take it.

She was frustrated and angry, at Michael, and at herself. At Michael for a lot of reasons. At herself for just one, for being in a hurry to get away from Michael. The thing was, she told herself that he was driving her crazy, but he wasn't. She virtually couldn't wait to get into this plane, to sit down, and to head home, but she didn't really know why.

And now that she was here, she was as unhappy as she'd ever been in her life. She fought a ridiculous urge to get up, get her bag, run out of the plane and back to Michael. She visualized herself rushing into his arms, crying, and kissing, and begging him to let her stay with him, starting now, for good.

She fought the urge for a long time, fidgeting, looking out the window, looking about the plane, trying not to think about it, fighting the urge. She actually lost. She stood up, opening the overhead and pulling down her bag, when the flight attendant came by and told her that she had to stow the bag now, that the plane was ready to leave the gate.

Mouse watched in frustration as they closed the airplane door with a taunting thunk.

Now that the door was closed, and she couldn't get off, it was the only thing she wanted to do, but it was too late.

It was too late to be silly. She had to go home. She had to leave Michael behind.

<8 Second Dates

Work had become so tedious. It was the same thing, over and over again. Mistake after mistake by overworked, unmotivated employees. These were multiplied in severity by compounding mistakes due to ignorance by overstretched, burnt out managers. Then, in an effort to stop the bleeding, ill advised decisions were made to just randomly reorganize things, over and over again, at the direction of overpaid, arrogant and out of touch executives.

Michael was growing tired of everything being a war against incompetence within his own company, instead of with the competition.

He really did need a change of job. He should have been looking harder for something in Chicago. It really would change his life.

So why was he procrastinating? He'd found two good opportunities, and just let them slide for petty reasons. He'd had other leads, calls from recruiters, but just didn't follow through.

He scolded himself for letting his mind wander. There were other, better times to think about that. Right now, he just wanted to get this report finished so he could finally make and eat a late dinner, then go to bed and get up and start another day, just like this one, all over again.

His cell phone vibrated on the desk beside the keyboard. Annoyed, still not yet focused on the report he was writing, Michael glanced at the calling number. It was Kate.

"Michael," he said professionally, as if he didn't know who was calling.

"Hi. It's me, Kate."

Her voice conveyed an insecure smile. Michael tried to set her at ease by lightening his tone.

"Hi. Kate. It's nice to hear from you."

"Um, yeah. Look, I'm not very good at this. I'm a kind of blunt person. Dad says I can be rude. I, um, I get nervous and the only way I can do some things, say some things, is to just do it, clumsy or not."

"Say what?" Michael asked, already holding back a little smile. She was cute. What she was going to do was obvious. And Michael had never been so obviously chased by a woman in his life. It was the ultimate flattery. Actually, he'd never been obviously chased by any woman in his life at all, not even subtly, not that he was aware of.

"Um, I know dinner was cut short. You seemed distracted. I don't think it was me. I hope it wasn't me."

"No, it..."

"So I was hoping we could do it again. But longer. I, um, I wanted to see you again."

"Sure..."

"But I want to be clear. I'm not asking as a friend. I want a date."

"I can..."

"I know you're older. Maybe I'm too young to interest you. But I want a date."

"I can do a date. I can certainly do a date."

"You can?"

"Yes."

"Because you didn't seem all that interested the last time."

"I don't know what I want these days. But I know I want at least a date."

"At least."

"I didn't mean it that way. I mean, I did. I mean, I like you. I can't figure out why you like me."

She was silent when he paused. Okay, fishing for compliments from nervous, insecure, young women wasn't going to work. He was being selfish, and needy.

"But I do like you," he continued. "I'm sorry I was so distracted that night. I'll make it up to you. We'll do dinner someplace nice. Someplace expensive. To make it up to you."

"I'd like that. And you don't have to 'make anything up to me.' You don't owe me anything."

Right about now, Kate would be tossing her head, flipping her long straight hair out of her face. Michael could picture it quite clearly.

"Okay. When would you like me to not pay you back?"

She laughed at that.

"Is tomorrow night too soon?" she asked.

She was actually eager. It made Michael's night.

"Tomorrow night is great. Hey, I was meaning to ask you..."

And so the conversation continued for an hour that Michael couldn't really afford. But this was what he needed. Kate would never be anything serious. She was too young, with too many quirks. She was fun, but she could never be anything serious, so she was harmless.

She'd never be a threat to Mouse.

It would give him someone to focus on, to play at dating, without feeling guilty. He was sure she wouldn't get hurt. She couldn't really like him that much, not a woman like Kate, with an old burnt out guy like him. She'd get bored soon, and move on, and that would be fine.

For now, this was what Michael needed to fill the void.

* * *

Mouse went into the bar, to sit in the same stool she'd been occupying every Wednesday evening every week, except when she was out of town. Paul, the first of two older widowers she now knew, was already there, as he always was, in the stool right beside hers.

"Someone tried to take your seat. I frightened her away."

"You're quite a gentleman."

"No, I'm not. At all."

They both smiled easily.

"Get any fancy custom wedding dress orders this week?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," she said. "Schedule any short, tiring, troublesome business trips this week?"

"Two. Alberta, and Texas."

"Ouch. I can't understand why you like traveling so much."

Paul had developed into a wonderful platonic friend. He really was harmless. He was just a lonely, older man with a young heart, gleefully living out his years, but left without a companion, or children. He and Mouse shared a zest that other people didn't seem to have, that made them feel surprisingly close, despite their only infrequent and short times together.

She'd only even imagined going to bed with him a few times. She just didn't think of him that way, much. He wasn't quite her type. He was tall, but not as tall as Michael. He was deliciously older, with a head of full, very gray hair. He wore wire framed glasses.

He talked too much, maybe. He was too competitive. He was too easily distracted. His eyes were always wandering, always searching the room, instead of politely and immovably on her.

He did have very nice hands.

She watched them lift his glass of scotch to his lips. His lips were nice, too, invitingly full and round, over a squarish jaw.

She didn't know why she didn't sleep with him, or even really think about sleeping with him. He looked like he'd be good, experienced. He could certainly help her with her 'daddy issues.'

She shrugged invisibly, inside. Maybe he was almost too much like a father figure for her.

"Hey, do you want to do something unusual?"

"What's that?"

"I met this guy that gives unofficial rappelling lessons. He does it down the side of an old abandoned warehouse. You want to try it with me?"

"Sounds dangerous."

"Of course it is."

"I'm in, then."

Mouse beamed at him. This was exactly what she needed. Something new and frightening to do, with someone safe that she trusted, but whose company she enjoyed. He was definitely safe. A fifty two year old widowed father figure with a too consuming career, a roving eye, and no obvious interest in sex with her.

He was just what she needed to fill her time.

* * *

— From the author —

There is just one more book left in the Mouse series. Please look for it. The end is near.

Before you vote... Please do not vote this chapter down because you are afraid of what might happen. Vote based on the writing and merits of this chapter. Let the story play out however it might. But if this was a story about two people that fell in love, never struggled, and lived happily ever after without any issues whatsoever, well, you'd be bored senseless, and you wouldn't still be reading about Mouse.

Soon after the final book is published, people will stop reading Mouse. People only read things that are either newly released, or on the Top Lists. You can help Mouse live forever by voting one of the chapters in the series in a way that puts it in the top 5 all time. To do that, it needs at least 100 votes and an average score of at least 4.85 (or an average of 17 5's and only 3 4's, and nothing less, for every 20 votes).

Please remember to vote or leave a comment. If you vote, please realize that anything less than a five, even a four, is a bad vote. If you have something negative to say, make it intelligent and thoughtful or I'll delete it. If you have a question make sure you include a way for me to contact you.

I do love to get comments, and will always reply to sentient people.

If you really liked this story, please favorite me as an author. It helps me to get more readers, and gives me a reason to keep writing.