A Brother And Sister One Night Stand

I'd been living at home way too long.

...

As I walked in the front door of my parents' house, our little dog greeted me with all the enthusiasm of the walnut-brained, but I could care less. I was ready to move on. I'd graduated from college a year ago and opted to move back in with my folks to save money while I started working. At first, I loved coming home to my mom's dinner on the table, a large, clean house, and my laundry folded on my bed, but as the year wore on, the suburban monotony grated on me. Most of my friends still lived in their college towns, so I spent my evenings reading in my room, working out at the gym, or fucking around on the computer. I wasn't lonely... But I was bored.

Dinner that night was ordinary. My mother asked Dad about his day at the office, he complained about his employees, and I chimed in every so often with a smartass remark. It was pleasant but uneventful. As I helped my mom clear the plates from the table, we heard a knock on the front door. I kept loading the dishwasher as Mom went to answer it.

I heard an excited yelp from the front hallway. Oh, god. Who could it be but Matt, my stepbrother?

My mother married my stepfather when I was about 6 years old. It was the second marriage for both of them and an argument in favor of trying again after a garbage first marriage. It wasn't without its trials, of course, which came mostly in the form of Dad's first wife's bullshit. She rarely allowed him to see Matt when we were kids, and that drove him almost to his breaking point on a number of occasions. Now that we were adults, and Jan (the first wife) couldn't dig her talons in so deep, Matt was making his own efforts to spend more time with Dad. This was a good thing... for Dad.

My relationship with Matt, however, was always sort of fraught. We were competitive. We were often at each other's throats when we dignified each other's presence with attention. I think we'd gotten along as young children, but puberty shoved us in different directions.

So Matt was here. Great. My mom totally fawned over this kid, and Dad tried to make up for what he viewed as his past failings by giving him everything he could now. All I knew was that this meant I was in for some annoying dinners staring at his smug face. As I resigned myself to this fact, I finished loading the dishwasher and turned around.

He was leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, staring at me.

"Oh... Hey. So, what the hell are you doing here?" Why was I acting like such a bitch? He was (technically) my brother, after all, but just the sight of him stirred me up.

"Hah. I got some time off work, so I thought I'd come visit you guys for a bit." I could only hope that "a bit" mean just the few days left during the week so he wouldn't be hanging around while I tried to relax on the weekend.

"Cool... Well, I've got some shit to do. 'night."

I sauntered past him to climb the stairs to my room. Halfway up the stairs, I looked down and saw him, still staring at me from the doorway of the kitchen. Okay, asshole. Whatever.

I spent that night wallowing in my annoyance with the fact of his presence in the house. Why the fuck was he here? And why the hell was it bothering me so much?

The next day was business as usual. I almost forgot about him because he was still asleep when I went off to work. When I got home, though, he was there, lounged on the couch like he owned the place.

"Hey. Good day at work?" He couldn't have looked less interested in a response. I think he was watching "Cops". Riveting.

"Yeah, it was fine, blah, blah, blah. I take it you spent the whole day like this?"

"Yup."

"Right." I rolled my eyes and went up to my room.

We made it through dinner alright. The parents were so happy he was there that it was kind of cute. It even warmed my heart, a little, to see Dad like that. Okay, I thought. I will tolerate your presence.

We decided to do some good old fashioned family television watching. NewsHour, of course. We were a PBS family—none of this "American Idol" bullshit. So we sat on the couch, and I paid a little attention to the TV but mostly enjoyed my family's colorful commentary. The parents got sleepier and turned to their respective easy chairs for crossword puzzles and magazine-reading. I curled up on the couch with my current book. Matt was flipping channels.

Eventually, Matt and I were left alone as Mom and Dad headed to bed. It was quiet. I guess Matt had picked up a magazine or something—I don't know. He was reading. I was reading. We were curled at opposite ends of the long velvet couch my father inherited from his mother.

My eyes were getting heavy in the dense prose of my book when I felt something touch my foot. For the briefest of moments, I thought it might be the dog.

My body went rigid. Matt's warm hand was resting on my toes.

I felt paralyzed. From the corner of my eye I could see that he was sitting there, one hand holding his magazine, one hand on my foot, looking totally absorbed in his reading. Casual.

What. The fuck.

And yet... I kind of liked it. My toes were warm. And it had been so goddamn long since anyone had touched me like that. And it was a touch "like that", I could tell, even if it was just one small touch. It was fucking tender.

It was fucking confusing.

But I let his hand rest there. I don't know why, but I did.

And when I looked up from my reading next, his eyes were staring into mine. I have no idea what my face looked like—probably a bewildered mess—but when our eyes met, a little smile spread across his lips.

I let it happen. He ran his hand up my bare leg, never breaking eye contact. My mouth opened in the smallest gasp as he leaned towards me, moving his body to hover over mine.

"I want you." He said it quietly but firmly. His left hand was resting on my thigh, and his right was gripping the back of the couch.

I gazed at him, awestruck. Then I wrapped my arm around his back and pulled his mouth down to mine.

He pulled my shirt over my head. I pulled his off. We pressed our chests together as we kissed furiously, with all the fire of the arguments we'd had in the past propelling us into each other.

He pulled away from me.

"I have wanted you for so long." His eyes bored into my skull as I tried to absorb his words. My brain was in a fog. It was beyond surreal. The terror in my brain dripped down to mingle with the warmth that was flowing upwards from my pussy. They were insoluble; they swirled together and through me like oil and water and left me with no answers.

I didn't have anything to say. I pushed him down onto the couch and straddled his thighs. I pressed my mouth to his like he was the only source of oxygen on a barren planet.

He unbuttoned my pants and slid a hand into my underwear. I closed my eyes and arched my back as I ground into him. My eyes rolled back into my head. He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me back down to him. I reached into his jeans. Fuck it, I just pulled them down. His cock leapt out at me, tumescent and throbbing, clearly aching to be touched.

I dug my fingers into his chest hair and took his dick in my mouth. I teased it at first—I licked around the tip, along the length of the shaft, flicked the underside of the head with the tip of my tongue. But I looked up to see his face in the agony of desperate desire and took pity on the fool. I took his full length in my mouth, willing myself not to gag on him. His eyes rolled back as mine had before, and he moved his hips to press himself deeper into me.

I took his dick out of my mouth and moved up to his left ear. I kissed his earlobe. "My turn," I whispered.

I pulled off my pants and underwear then knelt over his face. I could see his intoxicated excitement as my pussy met his lips. He licked my clit and lapped at my pussy lips, swirling his tongue over and around them. I started to drip. I wanted to control him. I had to fuck him.

I pushed his head away from me and back onto the couch. I slid down his stomach to his cock. I grabbed it and looked at it with deep longing. I guided it to my pussy and pressed myself onto him, slowly, gently.

A sharp intake of breath from him as I took him inside me completely. My eyes were barely open, their lids heavy with pleasure, but we stared straight into each other's eyes. I moved up and down, and he moved with me, his hands on my hips, pressing himself into me as deep as he could.

He moved faster. He grabbed my flesh harder. I wanted him to dig his hands into my skin, to leave bruises on me.

Suddenly, he wrapped me in his arms and flipped me onto my back. He was over top of me, pushing into me harder, faster. I could feel my pussy clenching onto him with every stroke. I could feel my orgasm building in my thighs, the urgency building as I shoved myself onto him faster.

I could sense him getting close, too. He looked down at me with an unrecognizable animal force in his eyes, biting his thick lower lip and straining to fuck me as deep as he could.

"Let me cum in you", he moaned in my ear. I just grabbed him by the neck and forced his mouth onto mine, eyes closed, feeling his cock begin to throb inside of me.

I felt him lose control, and it pushed me over the edge. I felt his body buckle with the release of his seed, felt him shake with the relief, and my pussy tightened so hard I thought I might implode. At the same moment, he pulled back the slightest bit, and I felt myself gush onto the couch. I tried to be quiet, but I let slip a deep moan. He pressed his hand lightly over my mouth as I shook through the waves of my orgasm.

I came back to my body. The stars faded out of my vision, and I found myself still on the couch. He was collapsed on top of me, breathing deeply. I fell asleep.

When I woke, the gray light of dawn was trickling in through the windows. I was alone under a blanket. My pussy was raw and still sticky from Matt's sperm. I wrapped myself in the blanket and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I could feel his semen leaking from my cunt and making a mess of my thighs. There was a note on the kitchen table. Hastily scrawled and lacking in much detail, Matt said he had a project that needed his attention a few hours away, just over the state line. I was filled with disquiet; was last night a dream? Would we ever talk about what had happened? Just thinking about it made my pussy wet. Even though his cream was still coating my needy cunt, and despite the cloudy haze of lust descending over my thoughts, a deep longing filled my heart. Tears sprang unbidden to my eyes even as my fingers slipped between the folds of the blanket and pressed against my swollen clit. He was gone.