Broken Bridgets Bizarre Family

I don't think I'm broken. I was just never whole.

I've heard all the names. Frigid. Ice queen. Soulless. Broken bitch. Evil harlot.

That's where I draw the line. I'm not evil. But I pack a hell of a wallop. I conduct social experiments, for my own pleasure. One name probably describes me better than any other: Temptress. That's what I do. I apply pressure and observe the consequences. I hunt and when I find prey, I enjoy watching them dangling at the end of the hook. I mean, I still feel pleasure. I'm not entirely full of self-loathing. I just worry about the content of what I find pleasurable. The suffering of others, when it is deserved, hits me differently. I'm self-aware enough to know that I get off on it, but I still don't understand why.

Sexually, I guess I'm fairly liberated. My open mind allows for some pretty wild experiences, but I'm still bereft of real feelings and real emotions. I know that I'm different from most 21 year old girls. Most of them fear me. They don't understand what I am. That part of the brain or the heart that makes other girls fall for guys and devote themselves to being a good girlfriend, well, that part never arrived upon delivery.

Take this cock that I'm sucking right now, for example. It belongs to another woman, a woman I've known my entire life. His wife, Mrs Appleston, has always been good to me. She is the friendly neighbor lady that baked cookies for me on Saturdays and invited me and my friends to gobble them down. Now I gobble on Mr Appleston. He was easy. I was walking by trying to figure out a way to escape the heat of the day, and there he was! I helped him carry his groceries inside his air conditioned house and offered him a blow job. I wanted to extend my visit long enough to cool down. He couldn't get his pants dropped fast enough. I rarely get turned down. It could be my perfect cock sucking lips, or maybe because I'm very good at oral, or because I've got a stacked body with big bouncy boobs and an angel face framed with golden hair. I'm a tight package at just over 5 feet, but I fuck like someone twice my size.

Just as I'm considering where to stick his fairly sizable dick, Mr Appleston surprises me by popping off an unexpected load in my mouth. I swallow it all. He pats me on the head, as though I'm a good girl.

This pisses me off.

"I'm glad you got off, Mr Appleston, but I really need to cum too." I strip off my tank top and shorts. Mr Appleston's eyes bug out and he begs me to stop.

"Bridget, Mrs Appleston will be home any minute," his urgency is palpable, "And you have to be gone before then."

I slide my fingers along my drenched pussy. Giving head always turns me on, even if I'm not really into the guy. Its the act that empowers me. Mr Appleston burns red as his predicament starts to sink home. If his wife comes home and finds me naked on the couch, he's done.

"Please Bridget! Please."

"You want me to get gone, then get to work." I lift a single finger and point it at my cunt. "This pussy won't eat itself."

He doesn't need to be asked twice. Presented with the solution to his quandary, Mr Appleston dives into me. He proves to be a decent muff licker as he whips me with his tongue as his lips work magic around my clit. I feel the shock waves begin early and build with intensity. I madly flick my nipples and pluck the flesh as I grind my pussy against his face. When I come, I come hard and gush into his gasping mouth. Juice cascades down his face to his chest, soaking his shirt. He looks up like a little boy, proud of his accomplishment and waiting for praise.

"Yes," I pant, "You did good." He beams. "I'll get my things and be out of your hair. But if I get horny later, mind if I stop by?"

The look on his face is priceless. He's horrified. Before he can protest, I say, "Oh god, I'm just kidding! Relax."

I wonder if he's heard rumors. But if he has, why has he let me anywhere near his prick. Hasn't he heard? I'm a home wrecker.

I leave the Appleston's without any drama. Sometimes it happens that way. I'm patient. I know that everything comes full circle. I am always prepared to play the long game.

I feel the resonance of the orgasm pulsing through me. And yet, the heat reflected back from the sidewalk is drives me crazy. Appleston air conditioning is a distant memory. My pussy tingles and aches and for real dick. I love getting eaten out and cumming from clitoral stimulation, but nothing beats being filled.

I decide to pop home before swinging by Amanda's place. My BFF always has a wicked plan or two up her sleeves, even when she's got no sleeves at all. Come to think of it, that's when she's at her best. And she always has a bead on some eager cock, though sometimes we have to share. I don't mind. If the guy is lame, she always knows how to get me off.

I'm not thrilled to discover that our house is a stifling furnace. I give myself a whiff. I'm ripe and need a shower. I toss articles of clothing on the floor as I head upstairs. My panties are sticky and wet and cling to me as I peel them off.

I freeze.

I hear a sound from the washroom. No one is supposed to be home, right? A cough. Roy. My brother. The loser refuses to get a job. Or at least, that's what he tells Mom. There's something going on with him. He leaves the house late at night and sometimes doesn't come home. He has money but no clear indication as to how he earned it. I usually don't pay attention. I couldn't be bothered. He's fucking annoying.

Like right now. I wanted to slip in the shower, get cleaned and cooled, and off to Amanda's. Now I have to wait until he is done. I don't even know what he's up to. Frustration blooms and I'm of a mind to rip him a new one. Then I realize that I'm naked. I was about to kick the door open and scare the hell out of him. I dodged a bullet there. The door is opened a crack. It would have been epic to see his face as I kicked ...

I catch a glimpse of him in the mirror. He's standing in the tub, bent at the waist, stroking his dick while furiously fingering his asshole with the other hand. His eyes are closed and low moans escape his lips.

I'm slack jawed and stunned. I honestly don't know what to do. I'm lost to the moment as I drink in the sight. It's his dick. It's. So. Fucking. Huge.

My heartbeat hammers in my ears and my pulse races. I'm naked but a sweat breaks out on my skin. Fight or flight, I recall. A normal stress response. There's a third option, I realize. Fuck.

Is that an option? Eww, I think, my brother? No, as fucked up as I might be, I don't think I'm ready to fuck my brother. And yet...

And yet I can't tear my eyes away from the scene building to a crescendo in front of me. I can tell by his furtive pace that he's seconds away from release. I've banged enough guys to know that 'Post Nut Clarity' is a real thing. In this moment, he will do anything. Anything. If I'm going to get a piece of that, I better do it now.

In a dream state, I raise my hand to push open the door. It doesn't even look like my hand, I'm so detached. He cries out. Thick white ropes of cum shoot from his dick. Most of it coats the bathroom wall, dripping down like ice cream on a July afternoon. Some of it whips back onto his wrist. He raises his hands and licks it clean as though he were a cat. I watch with rapt fascination as he continues to plunge a finger into his ass, long after his orgasm. I pluck back my hand. Suddenly I feel like I'm invading his deepest privacy. I feel ashamed.

Guess I'm not as broken as I thought.

Seconds later, I prove that I am. I opt to dive into Mom's bedroom. If I circle back to my own, the squeaky floorboards will give me away. I slide the door closed silently behind me. I hear Roy step into the hallway. I made my exit just in time. Then I curse. I forgot my clothes in the hall. Roy isn't the most observant person at the best of times, so perhaps he won't notice. I push the thought aside as I respond to the raging fire between my legs. I need to get relief of my own.

I glance around the room. My eyes beeline to the nightstand. Old Stan. Mom and I share a secret, except she doesn't know my side of it. Mom keeps a giant black dildo in her nightstand next to the bed. I called it Old Stan after our neighbor who moved away last year. Stan was the biggest man I'd ever met, and in my youthful imagination, I thought he probably had a big dink too. Now that I've been plowed by my share of tools, I can say with certainty that it was unlikely that Old Stan was this big. I've yet to meet anyone this big in real life. But I hope I will. Someday.

Stan feels heavy in my hands. It is at least a foot long and almost thicker than my little hands can manage. It is shiny and I notice a few errand strands of hair stuck to the shaft. I give it a sniff and recognize the strong odor of pussy. I coat Stan with some lube from the nightstand, and within moments I'm spread eagle and shoving him deep.

It hurts at first. That surprises me. I've taken Stan before without much trouble. Especially after swallowing Mr Appleston's load and after watching Roy get off, I would have sworn that Stan would slide right in. I push him until I face too much resistance. Then I relax. Mom's bedspread is cool on my skin. I study the ceiling fan and wonder why I forgot to turn it on. Then I feel the tingles. I'm ready to go to pound town.

I slide Stan back out until the massive head is just splitting my lips. Then back in he goes, every inch more delicious than the last. My cunt is pulsing and begging for more. Stan pushes my pussy to new levels of pleasure as my walls get a good workout. I find a good rhythm and quiver as I deliver. I'm sweating buckets, but the orgasms have already begun. Small crashing waves hit me in intervals. I clamp down hard on Stan, then remember to breath through it. He slides again, keeping the pleasure on tap.

I've cum a half dozen times before I start to even think about taking a break. Stan is beyond pleasurable and the size itself is pushing me to bigger orgasms. Every time it rolls over me, it gets just a little more intense. My asshole is twitching. I think back on Roy and his prostate exploration. It is so naughty that it makes me tremble with excitement. My own ass needs to be filled and I wish I had another toy for double duty. Then I get a wicked idea.

I slip the dildo out and reapply lube. I line up my asshole and hold my breath as the head splits me. Whereas I was uncomfortable before, this actually does hurt. But I know this dance. I don't let up. I keep pushing until he's buried. I cum immediately. My body wraps itself around the dildo, my ass quivering in delight. I realize that I'm drooling and my eyes have rolled back into my head. This is heaven.

A rush of cool air races across my body. It feels amazing and sparks another orgasm. I'm cumming my brains out when I realize someone is standing in the open doorway. Fuck. Roy.

No, it's Mom. She mirrors the exact look I had on my face when I watched Roy. Pure shock, stunned wonder, and inescapable curiosity. Sweat trickles down my forehead into my eyes. I blink against it, feeling very much like a deer in the headlights.

Mom's eyes are glued to Old Stan buried in my ass.

I'm no quitter. I grind my hips against the dildo. I fuck my ass in front of my mother. The pleasure is intense and my face screws into a mask of unbearable pleasure. I look like I'm in pain except its actually the opposite. I can barely take it and yet I can't stop. I cum over and over until I forget that she's there. I close my eyes against the pleasure and descend into a warm blanket of joy. My blood pounds in my head and I can scarcely hear anything above my thundering heart. I cry out quietly, despite efforts to be quiet. I don't want Roy to hear so I turn my face into the pillow. I slide my other hand to my pussy. I'm on fire and my cunt gushes.

Eventually I collapse. I can't cum anymore, no matter what. I'm out of juice and my head is glowing and flowing. My entire body feels amazing.

I completely forgot about Mom.

She's gone. I scan the room but there's no sign of her. The door is closed.

I shake my head. I'll need to unpack this later. Maybe Amanda will know what to do...

I slip into the bathroom and clean up Old Stan. He's coated with sweet juice and anal fluid and I can't help but have a taste. Delicious! I spend some time devouring the dildo before I get him cleaned under the tap. I throw on one of Mom's old robes and head back to my room. There's no sign of Roy and my clothes are gone from the hall. I find them on my bed, neatly folded. Next to them, is a note.

"Bridge," it reads, "I understand why your panties left in the hallway were so soaked. I hope you enjoyed the 'thing' - but it's mine. Hands off! I zipped off to the store to get you your own. Something bigger, I think. From what I saw, you'll have no trouble handling it. Love Mom."

I slip onto the bed and slide a hand between my legs as I let my imagination take over. Bigger than Old Stan? Despite my recent orgasms, I quiver with anticipation.

I also quiver because even though the secret of Old Stan was revealed, I now have another one that Mom doesn't know about. Roy might be even bigger than Old Stan.

Turns out, the joke is on me. Mom was very aware of Roy's talents.

But that's a story for another day.