The Girl Under The Stairs Ch. 02: Meg

"Alright?" I ask her.

Meg looks at me where I hold myself above her on extended arms. Then up above her face to Mo, whose hands drift like softest water across her breasts.

"Oh, yeah, Branwell," Meg says.

And moves with me through the long slow movements by which I explore her. We fuck as gently as clouds. And still the pressure builds inside me, she feels me throbbing and whispers, "It's alright, I have an IUD in there" and I relax

and explode in her, emptying myself into, inside her, falling onto her breasts, groaning, inarticulate, all barriers around my body momentarily broken, and Meg's arms surround me and the pressure of my coming takes her over and I feel her squeezing, contracting, holding me in, squeezing from the me my last small drops of liquid and laughing, laughing from the pure joy of fucking, saying, even as she gasps for air, "Oh god, look out, multiple orgasm happening!"

And we are all laughing as Meg comes around me. In bed together, naked, sweat slicked, I am leaking out of Meg, slowly following out of her into the cool air. The room is redolent with her, with me, with my sister. And it is to my sister I look as the obliterating power of my own orgasm fades and I return, both slowly and suddenly, to myself. She looks at me from beyond the wild vines of Meg's hair and there is about her a strange, undefinable deflation that is almost sadness as she mouths silently the words, the fact: I love you, Jimmy.

And Meg, between us, whispering.

"Oh, man, I can't believe this. Holy, holy holy fucking shit, you two. What the fuck did we just do?"