It Runs in the Family

If you'd asked me why, in even these highly emotional circumstances, I always needed to appear sexy and enticing, I could only say that it's because I love having sex and being sensuous. This is just the behavior that has tarnished my life but as much as I've tried to fight it, I know that eventually I'll give-in to my baser instincts. I always end-up in trouble and getting hurt- physically or otherwise- but I love sex! And it leads me to crazy things.

So, I fluffed my long brunette hair, plumped my red lips and tweaked the pointy nipples of my bouncing breasts, and headed back to the bedroom. My brother was standing beside the bed with a worried expression on his handsome face. Afterall the nearly naked woman standing before him was his eleven-years-older sister. His bold erection was clearly outlined by the wet pattern in his striped undies and he was biting his lips. He was unsure if his provocative activities had driven me from the bed or brought-out the receptive side of my sensual nature. And either way, he was contemplating the taboo condition of incest.

Benny held glasses of cold juice for us both and with a moment of awkward silence, we settled again, under the sheets. Now however, we were slightly more awake and a bit more attentive of our surroundings. I was still jumpy so Benny continued to hold me as we made room for the dog, forcing us into a more cramped, dampened spot on the bed. His muscular arm was draped around my shoulder and his other hand combed through the knots in my hair. I was laying back against his broad shoulders and feeling the firmness of his thick torso. And again, a seductive ardor formed around us like a cloud of forbidden passion.

My brother's physique was hardened from manual labor and his upper body was like a topographical map of a mountainous country. I don't remember the last time I slept with a younger man and I'd never been with anyone built like him. His chiseled jaw was stubbled with dark whiskers that brushed against my skin and his deep, whispered tones were soothing to my ears as he enticed me to relax. There was a definite sexual chemistry in the air tinged with the illicit aroma of incestuous perversion. I was getting aroused, knowing that this was the exact circumstance that drove me away from him. Why didn't one of us move to another room or sleep on the couch, or have the common decency to resist these decadent desires?

I slowly turned on my side and folded my body into his, subconsciously hoping that these corrupted feelings would pass. On the other hand, I think we both read the signals and ignored the warning bells. We were essentially spooning and while I laid my head on his one arm, the other one fell over my waist. It was initially heavy and restricting but I found it poignant and welcoming. No man had made me feel this way for a long time and I contemplated, (for a very brief moment,) the notion that maybe he was merely being a good brother. I had been jaundiced about the intentions of all men, for most of my life. It was his own intentions that were seriously in doubt.

We struggled to regain our slumber, as I tingled to the sensual feeling of his roving fingers straddling my belly and pivoting both up and down my quivering body while inquisitively sliding underneath my gauzy tee. As I squirmed under the alluring magnetism of his persuasive massage, my butt swiveled back, burrowing into his warm loins. Could this slow, hypnotic touch signal his approach to foreplay. I was certainly getting turned-on by the erotic manipulation, whatever the reason, and his effort to cautiously avoid my tits and pussy, but the light touch of his probing fingers on my tingling belly felt so charismatic. The temperature in the room seemed to be rising and I felt the moist heat in my uterus begin to swamp my midsection. My halting breaths came out as trilling purrs and as my cunt silently begged for affection, involuntary spasms rippled my flesh, which he couldn't help but to observe.

His hand floated upward to my ribcage, spurred-on surely by the obvious reactions of my writhing form, where he traced slow circles on my shivering skin causing waves of intense voltage to shoot through my system. He never quite fondled my tits; either from extreme caution or knowing just how best to tease a desperately horny woman, though I don't think I would have halted him, but I did occasionally feel the tips of his fingers softly bump the tender undersides of my boobs, resulting in my breath catching in my dry throat. My mind was dizzy with the dilemma of wanting something so obscenely lascivious while not wanting my baby brother to get caught-up in the web of my wickedness. Then, alerted that I sensed his indelicate approach, his hand moved down my curved belly and slowly hovered over the hump of my pubic mound, patting and petting the shivering skin awaiting his touch, just beneath the dampened cotton.

We cuddled unsteadily under the light sheet that suddenly felt heavy and confining on our glistening flesh. My ass was pushing back on his pelvis and I could feel the warmth and firmness of his powerful erection pressing forward on my plump butt. Both bodies were now glistening with sweat and shined under the slanted light from the window. Twin figures jostling for room but alternately pressing closer, created its own unique strain. The restrictive, soggy sheet was kicked to the side and in the pale light of a waning moon, our half-naked bodies thrashed on the mattress in a semi-erotic horizontal dance of unbridled lust. We seemed to be literally fighting the urge to go further but drawn to the wickedness of incestuous passion like moths to the flame. I felt a lump in my throat and was struggling for words as I imagine he was, so we flailed away in squeaky-fleshed stillness. Our breathing became intense and the silence in the room was charged with sexual energy.

Where our forms melded the heat was furious. My shirt, the second one I'd worn in two hours, was already wicking my perspiration and our intertwined legs were slippery with molten heat. The wet cloth clung to my fumbling hips and stretched tautly across the full C-cups, aching to be held and caressed. I could feel his large hard-on poking between the moistened cheeks of my ass, deterred only by the thin, soggy gusset of my damp undies. My panties were dank with the essence of my swiftly flowing lubricant. His breathing was warm on my neck and his arm now seemed to own the area around the soggy waistband of my soaked undies where his fingers gently drummed across the stretched, warm fabric. He was like a little boy again sneakily touching the lid of the cookie jar, waiting either for permission or for a carelessly unguarded moment when he could grab a treat.

The husky, purring sound that I had been frantically warbling, was growing into a full-throated moaning that I couldn't control. My pulse-rate rocketed and my body was dripping in sweat. My nipples were hard as diamonds, jutting straight out and being abraded by the tight, damp fabric of my clingy top. He must have been able to feel the fervency and vibrations of my hungry pussy and the moist warmth that radiated from it. His pelvis was bumping into my backside, with his solid alabaster lance thumping against my inviting cheeks. It felt like a sledgehammer beating at the constricted valley formed at the top of my thighs. The palm of his hand slid to the front of my wet panties and he groped my fiery cunt. His grip tightened on the "Y" at my crotch and two digits were furiously pushing aside the dank cotton material that hindered his exploration.

This was no longer a brotherly massage given to an agitated sibling. Only the soggy, strained fabric of our underwear had kept us to this point, from committing a lewd and perverse sin. I felt his hot lips gliding along my neck and his teeth nibbling the lobe of my ear. There was a tingle running along every nerve in my frazzled frame, signaling that I'd never felt anything like this. His breath came in exaggerated gulps and gasps, while his other hand moved to corral my bouncing breasts in his meaty grasp. His large hand alternately cupped each of my breasts and he gently balanced them both as his fingers twisted and tugged at my pert nubs. His warm, soft, wet kisses anointed my neck in hurried, shallow gulps as his grasp grew tighter on my tits and cunt. We were dangerously close to crossing a line that had no guardrails.

I felt a shudder and then his body tensed. He seemed to slow his urgent desires but not release his grip on my trembling anatomy. We were reaching an urgent and powerful crescendo of emotions. Both bodies were wriggling and the energy was off the charts. Then something changed. He switched gears. There was a slight but distinct pause. "Lizzie," he began. "Can I ask you something? It felt as though his hot touch had turned to ice.

I froze too. I feared what I was about to hear. It was coming around the corner from a long distance and it was heading straight for me. The next moment would decide our future, sexually or otherwise. I had often prepared a statement or a defense for if I ever got the chance to explain, but nothing would make the past seem palatable. So, I was ready for the inquisition. I would provide the straight answers that I had wrestled with for half of my life. Maybe he could find his way to forgive me. If not, hey, I've walked out of other men's beds in the middle of the night. I took a deep breath and felt the hesitation to his voice, but I knew it was a question he needed to ask. "Go on Benny. You're my brother and I love you, and if anyone, I owe you the honest answer."

He cleared his throat and heaved a heavy sigh. "Is it true, what everyone said about you?" He cautiously intoned but the question had been following me for years. "Is that why you ran away and we never heard from you?" He resumed rubbing his rough hands as delicately as possible along my tender body but the passion had ebbed. I couldn't see his eyes but I felt it in his touch. He felt sorry for the rude interruption but since it was out there, the interrogation needed to be answered. Though he continued to kiss my neck and hold me tight.

"You were too young at the time. And when mother died, and it was all my fault, I couldn't face the neighborhood. They all hated me and I couldn't blame then, but I'm not a slut! I'm really not. I just knew that no matter how it turned-out, I would get the blame." There were no tears or sniffles, though it was real close. "I tried to call you a few times but daddy wouldn't let me talk. And he told me that I was a harlot who led him into sin and killed my mother. He was a miserable bastard and I'm glad he's dead."

"If he raped you, why didn't you tell someone? We would have understood." Chills racked my torso and goosebumps sprouted. This is what I'd been dreading.

He was rubbing my back but no longer touching me in a sensual manner. The little kisses were less predatory and more for moral support. It was awful that this passionate interlude had turned to a lewd inquiry concerning incest, but I needed to get it off my chest and to have it said outloud. I started to mount my defense but my chin trembled and there was a stutter to my speech that told me that bringing this terrible incident out into the open, would be much more difficult than I had been so naive to believe. When he saw the torture that I was experiencing and the guilt that I was admitting to, Benny held on to me like a concerned and dear brother. I steadied myself and proceeded.

I felt the warmth drain out of his touch for a minute when I replied, "They never told you what mom said?" Benny believed that I left because I was scared of dad. Now, I feared that I would crush his warm feelings of the sister that he felt was forced from her home. But he deserved to hear the truth, and to hear it from me.

It was going to be unpleasant and uncomfortable but hopefully, not unforgiveable.

"No Benny." I haltingly whispered, not being able to look directly into those moist, chocolaty eyes. "It was incest... but it wasn't rape. I hated him but he didn't force me. Umm...Maybe, at first... but I can't lay it all on him." The steely reserve that I thought I harbored betrayed me. The crying started and the tears rolled down my cheeks, but they were more for Benny than for me. "I let him touch me. I knew it was wrong. But it was exciting. I can't explain it and I'll never understand why, but it turned me on. And I wanted to know what it was like to feel like a woman."

"Oh, uhmm. I only ever heard the bad things that dad said about you."

"I'm sure dad was deeply saddened and wondered where they went wrong," was my first sarcastic response. My anger was rising to the surface and I didn't want it this way. "No, I'll admit my part." I started over, "I was curious. He surprised me the first time, but I had caught him many times staring at me and walking into my bedroom or the bathroom 'accidently' trying to catch me naked." I had actually tried over the years to forget the initial humiliation, but the intense emotions involved in learning the influential power of sexual dominance, and the intoxicating release of submission, was such an erotic high that I yearned for those feelings and couldn't deny my obsessions.

I skipped over the graphic details and just assured him that I was not sorry for having learned and tried almost everything involved with sexual coupling... or tripling, or sometimes bi-coupling. Anyway, I told him that the only thing that I regretted was that it was our father. And I also said that it wasn't because of the incest, "That didn't bother me as much as it probably should have." But because our father was such a pig.

Benny cut me off with a deep whistling gasp. "Do you mean that the sex meant more to you than the family?"

Benny was very detail-oriented, so I tried to break it down for him without incriminating every little act in my adult life. "I never liked the word 'Nymphomaniac,' but I was very close to that." I started, "a 'nympho' would have the almost involuntary need for sex regardless of the situation, I wasn't that bad. I just learned that I really like sex and I don't mind whatever role I need to play." Possibly, I was being too kind to myself. I'm closer to being a nympho than I ever want to be. "Yes, honey. I like sex. I like bringing pleasure to the person I'm with. And I can't help myself, I'm highly orgasmic."

He didn't seem entirely thrilled with my admittedly self-serving retort, but my mind was made-up. No more hiding from who I am. This is my brother, but we were really strangers to each other and past actions, (notably by me,) could terribly influence our present and future. It continued to be terribly hard to look directly at him because in my mind's eye he was still that sixth-grader that waved goodbye to me with a tear in his eye, so many years ago. And while he was watching me, I also did my best to remember that he was now a grown, good-looking man who minutes before, held me in his arms and was seconds away from the ultimate debauchery. So I squeezed my eyes shut and studied him. Plus, there was an unusual aura in the room. This was a delicate point in both of our lives and I was about to complicate it, still further.

Here goes, I thought. "I enjoy the act of sex and its wonderful aftermath, I really get-off knowing that I can bring that out in others. Sex is sex! It doesn't have to be a commitment, but it's gotta be fun. I've tried countless times to govern my inhibitions but I just end-up frustrated and lonely. Why should I finger my pussy when there are so many miles of cock in the world? I'm not a whore. I won't fuck just anybody, and I won't fuck for money. But I will admit that I have used people with my sex and the fact that we've both gotten something from it just makes it better." I was now merely rambling and sounding like a crazy person. How do you ever justify this behavior to anybody, let alone your brother? And especially when you're lying in his arms... in bed... practically naked? And, when it would only take one little word to surrender to your wicked desires and allow him to fuck the shit out of you? I twisted around so that as the dawn's light evened-out in the grey room, I could finally look him in the eyes. I'm not sure what I expected to find in them.

He didn't look disgusted, which was good. And he didn't seem disappointed, which amazed me. And from the way that his warm brown eyes held their steady gaze at mine, and with the impressive lump in his shorts rubbing alongside my bare thigh, his "look" indicated a perverted, crude sexual arousal. "Are you telling me that you don't care who you have sex with?" He quizzed me. Then a particularly lustful leer creased his formerly charming face.

"I care who I'm with," I tried to explain. "I just don't care who they are." I know that sounded weird, but I meant that as long as we both understand what we're doing and why, then we should just concentrate on pleasing each other and having fun. "I consider myself a 'tri-sexual,' that is, I'll try anything sexual." I said with a devilish wink. Then I rubbed my soft palm along the stubbly cheeks of his softening smile.

The ball was in his court. He didn't fumble. His hand grabbed for the damp bottom hem of my threadbare nightshirt and he wrestled it up and over my boobs, until I needed to lift my upper torso so that he could yank it over my tussled locks and reveal my naked chest to his wandering orbs. Whatever demons he may have been struggling with, were quickly overpowered and his only thought now, was to finally get an upclose look at my tits. And he wasn't going to miss this opportunity. The sheer fact that he reached for my shirt and that I moved to allow him to remove it from my body was a clear sign that we were both willing to take that next taboo step. "If this is what you want, I'm willing." I half-whispered, feeling unaccustomedly nervous. He took the hint with gusto, rolling on top of me and latching on to my tits with his lips, like a flea on a dog. I've seen my share of lust before, but his wanton desire was sexy combined with the incestuous crudeness of my father. Something... anything... should have doused my hunger since this image was called to mind. But this is the kind of crude craving that overwhelms me when my passion is excited.

"Ohhh Lizzie," he half-moaned, half-screamed. "These are the nicest tits that I've ever seen."

"You should have seen them when I was younger. Infact, I wish it had been you instead of him that first time." We both laughed a bit when we peeled back the years and the detail of our obvious age difference would have been a setback. But I cupped both of my nicely rounded tits in my small hands and offered them to his hungry mouth. His raspy tongue did the rest. He circled the tender areolas and nipped at the taut, rubbery nips, sending electrical jolts though my system. I could hear him humming as he suckled on my ripe boobs and I snuggled his head to my chest. His hands groped at my shaking body holding me tight and he devoured my bountiful bosom. As much as he liked sucking my tits, he was trying his best to bring me pleasure. Even the rotten apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Many men have complimented and admired my tits, but they were all anxious to get to my cunt. Benny took his time, kissing and nibbling at my generous bosom and it sparked my libidinous nature. He never took his eyes or his mouth from my jiggly boobs and the effect was everything that I dreamed it could be. The warm flow in my loins became a tidal wave of ecstasy and I squirmed and writhed on the mattress. The pressure was steadily mounting and I felt that the eruption was imminent. I let him bring me to a marvelous orgasm as he slurped at my tits and he was just getting started. He played with my big breasts as I lolled back in a post-orgasmic stupor. Thank goodness for young men. His tongue bathed my chest and he kneaded my jiggly boobs while I slowly recovered and felt my energy stir. It had been ages since any man took the effort to please me first. In his ardor, he almost forgot about the rest of me until I fished that big cock from the front flap of his confining shorts and finally held my prize. Its length and girth surprised me, those shorts hid too much.