Terminal Case

She had no choice but to wait. Soon her frantic breathing fell in with the rhythm of Paul's slow, steady breaths. Paige quietly drifted off to sleep. She wasn't asleep for long, however - it hadn't felt like more than a few minutes - when she was startled awake by a sharp pain in her side.

Paige blinked her sleepy eyes against the dim light coming in from the street lights outside. What was going on? There was a short ripping sound and the pain in her side was gone. So, she realized, was her underwear. It was Paul! He had just ripped her panties right off of her!

She was surprised by how much the idea turned her on. He wanted her! Not just wanted, he craved her. It was a delicious feeling to bring out such passion and desire in another person. Not to mention the anticipation! Something was going to happen. She didn't know what, but it was going to get her off.

Paul was on top of her in an instant. He easily shoved her legs apart and pushed himself between them. Somebody really needed to teach this guy about foreplay, Paige thought to herself as she felt his hardness splitting her lower lips. It was going to hurt! She gritted her teeth against the expected discomfort.

To her surprise, the thick cock slid into her easily. She must be dripping wet! The panty tearing really was a turn on. She would have to remember that the next time she was with a guy - if she ever had the chance. Paul filled her moist tunnel and she felt nothing but pure bliss.

He shifted position, sliding her over on the bed like she didn't weigh any more than one of the fluffy, feather pillows. His right hand came down on her throat. What the hell? She twisted away in surprise, but Paul's long, powerful fingers wrapped almost all the way around her delicate neck. He squeezed and held her in place.

Paige began to feel light headed almost immediately. She panicked and grabbed at his thick forearm, but it might as well have been a column of concrete. He didn't budge even a fraction of an inch. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She could breath fine - he wasn't choking her. Paul was just holding her in place so he could fuck the shit out of her.

As the panic cleared, she realized that was exactly what he was doing. He was relentlessly pounding on her. His thick rod pistoned in and out of her like a battering ram. Every time their bodies slammed together, her clit would shoot blasts of pleasure throughout her body like sparks flying from a downed powerline. It felt fantastic!

He wasn't choking her, but his inflexible grip must have been cutting off blood flow to her brain. She felt woozy, drunk almost. It seemed to ratchet up the intensity of her senses. Even in the dark room, the dim colors burned more brightly than she had ever seen. The sounds of his quiet grunts of pleasure echoed in her ears. Most of all, the incessant stimulation of her pussy blasted her with waves of sensation more powerful than she had never experienced.

Her climax came without warning. Usually she would feel the intensity building steadily to orgasm. On that night, however, it came with a sudden and unexpected explosion. Her body went rigid. She tried to drag in a breath, but her body was lost to the orgasm. Every fiber of her being seemed to vibrate with pleasure. Her vision went red and then everything became dark.

She didn't know how long she was out. When she came to her senses, Paul was snoring quietly beside her. She must not have been out of it for long, however, because her pussy was still spasming with glorious little aftershocks of pleasure.

"Holy fuck," Paige panted. That was more than epic fucking. That was fucking epic fucking. "I hope it was good for you, too." She patted her brother's sleeping form and slipped out of his bed. She padded naked down the hall and slipped under Lucy's pink comforter. She slept like a log the rest of the night.

She woke the next morning feeling better than she had since that morning at her doctor's office when he told her he was referring her to a cancer specialist. She realized that most people would condemn her for what she had done. Of course, she didn't actually do very much - Paul had done most of the work. That was just an excuse, though. She had known what might happen when she went to Paul's bed. Hell she even hoped it would happen.

Even so, Paige didn't feel the least bit guilty. She could only see good things coming from it. Paul was happier. She was happier - she was a fuck of a lot happier, honestly. Margaret was in her own little world and that suited her just fine. Besides, Paige rationalized, the universe owed her a little fun.

No, she felt great about the whole thing. In fact, just thinking about the night before was turning her on. She decided to lay in bed a while longer and play with herself. Revel in the afterglow, so to speak. She slid one hand down to her naked pussy and gently caressed herself.

"Wait a minute," Paige sat up. Why was she naked? She distinctly remembered wearing panties to bed. Where were her panties? Paige smiled wryly. It wasn't the first time she had asked herself that question in the morning.

Of course! Paul had ripped off her underwear the night before. They were probably still in his room. Oh no! If somebody found those, there would be hell to pay. She tossed aside the pink comforter and leapt out of bed. Her nightshirt was on the floor where she had dropped it before going to Paul's bed, so she pulled it on and crept into the hallway.

The apartment seemed quiet. She tiptoed down the hall to the guest bedroom. Paul was gone and the bed was neatly made. He was such a boy scout, she thought with a smile. She scurried around the room looking for a tiny scrap of lacey fabric. Where had he tossed them the night before? Paige hadn't seen - she had been too distracted. Way too distracted. Her smile got even wider. She dropped to her hands and knees and looked under the bed.

"Looking for these?" a voice asked.

Paige jumped. She looked at the door and saw Paul. He was holding her panties - what was left of them - between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, thanks!" she scrambled to her feet. Her only choice now was to try and play it cool. "You found them."

"How could you do this, Paige?"

"Sorry," she babbled. "You know me, always throwing my dirty laundry all over. I'm just a slob."

"You know what I mean," Paul glared at her. "You know what you ... what we did."

"Okay, okay," she sat down on the bed with a sigh. "Why aren't you at work, anyway? And where's Margaret?" She wasn't intentionally trying to change the subject, but if they were going to have this conversation there were some things she wanted to establish first.

"It's Saturday, Paige," Paul said with mild annoyance. "And Margie is at her quilting club."

"Ah, I see."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"So, how could you ... you know ..." he waved her panties like a flag, "... take these off in my bed?"

"Technically, I didn't take them off," Paige said sweetly. "You did."

"But ... but ..."

"And to be even more technical, you didn't take them off. You ripped them right off me."

"Oh, dear God," Paul gasped. He ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Why would I do such a thing?"

"Because you wanted me that badly," Paige teased. "Well, not me per-se. You wanted a piece of ass and I was just in the right place at the right time."

"How can you be frivolous at a time like this?" Paul groaned. "This is serious."

"No, it really isn't," Paige rolled her eyes. "What is serious is that you are driving yourself crazy by neglecting your basic needs."

"What do you mean?"

"Humans need human interaction, you dumbass," Paige told him. "We need friendship. We need understanding. We need sex, for the luvvagod."

"I don't need it from," Paul dropped his voice to a whisper, "from my sister. That's horrible! It's perverse."

"Meh," she waved him off. "Nobody's getting hurt. You certainly seemed to enjoy it. I know I enjoyed it. What's the harm?"

"What's the harm? What's the harm?" Paul sputtered. "It's turning away from the natural order that God intended!"

"You just had to bring God into it," Paige threw up her hands. "Okay, if you think what we did is so damned awful, then take it as a sign."

"A what?"

"A sign!" Paige exclaimed. "A sign that you are so fucking far out of whack that you will screw anything with two legs and a pussy."

"Oh, God," Paul groaned.

"Listen," Paige said softly. "You enjoy sex. You just have to accept that. Stop trying to bottle up your desires. They don't stay bottled up forever."

"I don't know ..."

"It's true. You like sex. Not just sex, either," Paige continued. "You like hot, sweaty, hair-pulling, bed shaking, rough sex. That's a part of you. And there's nothing wrong with it. You need to accept yourself."

"No. No, no. That ... that isn't me," Paul shook his head.

"It is you! It was you who held me down and fucked me silly last night. It was your big, fat cock that drove me to cum so hard I blacked out. It was you!"

"I don't ... I don't remember that," Paul sputtered. "Only hazy images. Like a dream."

Paige sighed. She didn't seem to be getting through to him at all. His eyes had a deer in headlights look. He was about to shut down and push her away completely. She looked down at the floor.

Hold on! As her gaze passed over Paul's crotch she saw that she had gotten through to some part of him. She could see the outline of a massive erection through the fabric of his khakis. Maybe she had an ally. It was two against one. Paul on one side and Paige and Paul's cock on the other side. Paige liked those odds.

"Tell you what," Paige announced brightly. She grabbed the hem of her nightshirt and pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. Underneath she was completely naked. Paul stared in wide-eyed shock. "Let's have some sex right now. You're awake and will remember everything. If you don't like it, I'll stop sneaking into your room at night. Deal?"

"No!" Paul looked away quickly. "Are you insane?"

"Maybe," Paige shrugged. She dropped to her knees in front of Paul and stroked his hardness through the front of his pants. "I know one thing, I'm done living according to rules that make no sense."

"Wha-a-a," Paul moaned. Paige looked up into his eyes. She could see him at war with himself. She had to act quickly! She unbuttoned his slacks and quickly pulled down the zipper. The pants dropped to the floor and his boxer shorts soon followed. His erect member sprang loose.

"No, Paige!" Paul finally found his voice. "We can't do this." He tried to push her away, but she was having none of it. She dove directly onto his hard cock. Of course, he could have easily shoved her away. Instead, his hands were tentative, cautious. It was easy for her to force her way past. It was ironic, after all he had done to her in his sleep that now he was afraid of being too rough with her.

When she wrapped her warm lips around him, he stopped resisting altogether. Good, she thought. Now we can get down to business. She bobbed up and down on his manhood. It was a delightful cock. Long and thick with a great, fat head. It was really wasted on such a goody-two-shoes like her brother. Well, she thought, maybe she could change that goody-two-shoes part.

After several minutes of eager sucking, she felt his cock get even harder. He was about to cum. This was usually her favorite part, but not today. She pulled her mouth away with a wet slurp.

"Wha-a-a?" he moaned. He looked down at her in confusion.

"You can cum in my pussy," Paige purred. "And only my pussy."

"No! No, I c-can't," Paul grunted. He turned to leave, but she stopped him with a hand on his hard, slippery cock. She stroked him lightly and he closed his eyes and threw back his head. Yes, she had him right where she wanted him.

She lifted the fat cock and licked at the balls underneath. They were large and heavy, the perfect companions to his thick manhood. She wrapped her lips around his sack, gently drawing him into her hot mouth. She heard him moan something incoherent and replied in kind. She licked up his hard shaft and pushed her mouth onto his mushroom head again. He was so worked up, it was only a few bobs of her head before he was throbbing on the edge of ejaculation once more.

And again she pulled away. She blew gently on his glistening, wet cock and enjoyed his sharp intake of breath. She reached between his legs and gently massaged his soft, supple ball sack. She licked up and down his shaft, her tongue barely touching him. When she judged he was ready, she sucked him into her mouth once more.

Paige bobbed up and down on Paul, drinking his thick oozing precum and stroking his balls with her free hand. His moaning became louder and more urgent. He's forgotten where his is, she thought. Forgotten everything but his cock and his need to cum. When he was getting close, she pulled away.

This time when she released him from her mouth, he made an impatient grunt and picked her up. She was carried through the air and dropped onto the bed. Paul dropped on top of her. She spread her legs automatically. His cock, slick with her saliva, was buried in her pussy in an instant.

"Oh, yes!" she moaned. "Fuck me right fucking now."

He rutted on her with powerful, angry strokes. With each mighty thrust, she was driven further across the bed. By the time she felt his cock pulsate and spurt inside of her, her head was hanging off the opposite edge.

"God!" she exclaimed. "Wasn't that amazing?" His quick, frantic fucking hadn't been enough to get her off, but it gave her something even better - she had won. For the first time in her life, she won an argument with her big brother. She wished she had thought of this years ago.

"No!" he whimpered. "This isn't ... you ... you made me ... not right." He looked at her with fear in his eyes. He backed away, nearly tripping over the khaki pants which were still pooled at his ankles.

"It's okay," she sat up and reached out to him. "You haven't done anything wrong."

Paul yanked up his pants and rushed out the door. Paige ran along behind but he was out the front door of the apartment by the time she reached the living room. She nearly followed him into the hallway and then realized she was naked. He was gone.

"What have I done," she sobbed. She collapsed on the floor in front of the doorway. She had done the exact thing that always infuriated her when other people did it: she had forced her own values on someone else. Now Paul would never forgive her. He probably hated her, in fact. And she deserved it.

Paige sat on the floor and cried. She hadn't cried for years - not since she had moved out of her parents' house at seventeen. Now it was an almost daily occurrence. That's what a brain tumor does for you, she thought wryly.

She might have sat there all morning, but then she realized Margaret would be coming home at some point. To find Paige huddled on the floor, naked, with tears streaking down her cheeks and cum running down her legs would be more than a little suspicious. It was doubtful that Margaret would have the imagination to put together that particular puzzle, but it wasn't worth risking. Paige decided she had caused enough damage.

She stumbled to the back bedroom and cleaned up the mess as best she could. She found the torn panties where Paul had dropped them and stuffed them down at the bottom of the kitchen garbage can. She took a shower and put on some clean clothes and felt almost human again.

Margaret still hadn't come home by the time Paige had to leave for her appointment. Margaret had probably expected Paul to go with her to the clinic since he was off work. Well, she had taken care of that, hadn't she? Paige left for her appointment alone.

The perky, little nurse didn't lead Paige back to the usual treatment room when her name was called. Instead, she brought Paige to a little office with a desk and two chairs and a bunch of charts on the walls. Any other day, Paige might have been anxious about the change of routine. That day, however, she just flopped down in the chair and stared at her feet.

Her doctor came in and sat down across the desk. He showed her pictures on his laptop computer. He had pictures of the inside of her head from all different angles. Paige glanced at them and nodded. It was her head, but Paige wasn't interested. They showed the tumor that was killing her, but it didn't show why some people believed in things and some people didn't. Why some people thought an imaginary wizard in the sky was more important than their own family. An MRI couldn't show her those things.

Then the doctor told her that they were discontinuing her radiation treatments. They weren't working he said. The tumor wasn't responding.

"What are we going to do?" Paige asked.

"You have two months. Maybe three," the doctor explained with his hands folded on the desk. "This time is like a gift. Many do not have this opportunity. Use the time to put your affairs in order in whatever way you see fit."

Paige considered telling the doctor that her affairs were beyond being put in order. Her affairs were, in fact, a complete disaster. Instead she just nodded and shuffled out the door.

She went back to Paul and Margaret's apartment and packed up her things. Even before the doctor's news, she knew she couldn't stay there any longer. She had made that inevitable the first time she crawled into Paul's bed. At least now there was no reason to stay.

She pulled out Lucy's little stash of pot - it was almost all used up now. Paige felt a little guilty about that. She found a couple twenty dollar bills in her purse and slipped them inside the plastic baggie. She added a quick note that read, "You are my new favorite relative, Love Aunt Paige," and then stuffed the whole thing in the back of Lucy's underwear drawer.

"Oh, you're here!" Margaret exclaimed when she came into the apartment and found Paige in the living room. "I thought you and Paul would be at your appointment for another half hour."

"No," Paige said softly.

"Where is Paul?"

"I don't know," Paige answered.

"Did he go play golf and leave you to go to the clinic all alone?" Margaret clucked. "That man! I will give him a talking to when he gets home."

"No," Paige shook her head. "It's fine. I didn't have a treatment today."

"No? Why not?"

"They said I don't need them anymore," Paige replied.

"Oh, how lovely!" Margaret warbled. "Would you like some lunch, dear?"

"No, thanks. I'm going to go back to my place. My own apartment," Paige sniffled. "You know, since I don't have to go to the clinic anymore."

"Well, don't you want to wait for Paul to get back?" Margaret asked. "I'm sure he'll want to say goodbye."

"I'm sure he won't," Paige said with a humorless chuckle. She had written a note for Paul, anyhow. Everything she wanted to tell him was in there. There were apologies mostly - vaguely worded in case Margaret went snooping around in the guest bedroom. Then she had pleaded for forgiveness. Finally she added a quick mention of the fact that she'd be dead by the end of summer. She wasn't above playing the Terminal Illness Card.

In spite of everything, Paige was relieved to be back in her own apartment. It was hot and stuffy and all the groceries in the refrigerator were spoiled, but it was home. And, honestly, many of the groceries had been spoiled before she left. She turned off her phone, queued up a Nina Simone record, and crashed on the sofa.

She hardly left her apartment for days. She went down to the market on the corner to get some things to eat, but mostly just stayed home. She listened to records, she read books, she even tried to paint. She spent the time alone. It was easier that way. There were friends she could have called, but she wasn't in the mood for communication.