Sister And Brother And Son Make One Ch 01

Let me be clear. My stories have no flowery words for depraved sex to protect your delicate sensibilities. No, my dear readers, the vulgar, raunchy, and risqué is going down. All those triggers you're warned about. They're real and in your face of the barely believable plotlines. So, if you like your smut cleaned up and NYTsy like, DG ain't for you. But if you are like me, and dig gratuitous filthy smut, are a bit of a freak, then sit down, shut up, and hang on.

~~

Oliver and his sister Brooke hook up. But not before Brooke gets with her nephew, who is her brother's son. Then, a specially created sister arrives.

Some MM between father and son later in the story, but no fucking. FFM, MFF, and FF obscenely rampant throughout.

.

Sister & Brother & Son Make One 01

.

.

​" He was like that piece of chocolate you know you shouldn't have, but the risk is worth the high."

.

.

In the midst of a scorching Florida summer, the air conditioning was laboring nonstop to combat the oppressive heat.

My long, auburn curls fanned out around my head. Dressed in a sheer white bra and panties, I ​stretched out on my bed, enjoying the soft gusts of breeze from the ceiling fan that tenderly caressed my bare skin, igniting an arousal​ I had ignored until now.​

After nearly daily orgasms with my husband, he left me for another woman. To say we had a robust sex life would be an understatement, so she must offer him something I didn't. Youth, I suppose. However, her prime wouldn't transfer to him. He'll still be old and lagging further behind as time goes on.

My thirty-six Ds still sat high on my chest; my stomach was flat, not stretched out from childbirth, and never would be. My dark nipples had hardened and pushed through the soft, sheer white.

I reached into the nightstand drawer and found the vibrator. Long unused because I'd had the real thing, I was surprised that the batteries still worked. Shoving my panties aside, I put it to my clit and instantly felt a current through my body, arching me off the bed.

Remembering why my girlfriend called hers

better-than-a-man,

I shuddered and gasped through the ride of a lengthy orgasm. The release relaxed me, and I dozed.

My cell rang, and I reached for it without looking.

"Hello?"

"Brookie!"

My brother, Oliver. He was the only one who called me that, and I went from falling from the euphoria of orgasm to the warm fuzzies of my brother. We were as close as possible, living a thousand miles apart.

"Hey! What're you up to, dude?"

"You sound out of breath. Were you doing something?" Oliver asked.

"Nah, I had to run for the phone."

"So, what do you think about coming to stay with us for a while? I heard you quit your job and figured you might want to escape. I hear Florida is hot," he laughed.

"Fuck you," I said, laughing. "I don't know. Let me think about it. A vacation does sound good now, and I could catch up with some friends."

Oliver had stayed rooted in Ohio, but I moved to Florida with Dan. ​Florida, my absolute love for the past twenty years, had become my home sweet home, but now I longed for family. Oliver's wife died a few years back. His son Ethan just graduated high school and was eighteen. It was time to reconnect.

"I hope so, sis. Love to have you. We both would."

I thought for a moment and realized I could think of nothing I wanted more than to spend time with them. I had quit my job because I was not too fond of it and was ready for another change in my life. "You know what. I'd love that! Just let me know when, and I'll be there."

He wanted tomorrow, but we set it up for next week, so I'd have time to get things done around here. Dan moved out, leaving me the condo, which was best for me. I could lock it up and leave it.

​I opted to take a road trip to have a car at my disposal​. I also wanted to ​visit a friend in Columbia en route to Cleveland.

​ ​Leaving central Florida, felt like the journey out of the state would never come to an end. But finally, I made it to the Florida-Georgia border and felt a surge of relief. As I crossed into North Carolina, I noticed a shift in temperature that instantly brought a smile to my face. It was a chance to roll down the windows and breathe in the fresh air, leaving the sticky humidity and scorching heat behind me.

"Call Jim."

"Hello, hello! Are you here, my love?!"

I laughed. "I am! GPS says about twenty minutes away."

"Great, Brooke, I bet you're tired. I hope you're hungry because I've been slaving all day."

"I am both, but most anxious to see you again."

Jim was my best friend growing up. He left Cleveland to go to Ohio State, got a killer job in South Carolina, and ended up in Columbia, head of the department.

"I'll see you in a few, babe."

A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of a small red brick ranch, which, by what I'd seen on my drive, was pretty typical for the Carolinas. The backyard was swallowed by an oversized garage, which I already knew was taken up by his new black Camaro, his Harley, and a nineteen sixty-nine fire-engine red Camaro.

The front door flung open, and he was down the steps, picking me up and spinning me around.

"God, it's great to see you," he exclaimed, finally putting me down.

"Me too," I sniffled, and he laughed.

"No crying!"

"No crying," I sniffed.

.

​Jim was my first touchstone in this new territory, a bridge to my life without Dan. Sitting across from him, I could feel the weight of my past slipping away​.​

The journey ahead wouldn't be easy—I knew that. Adjusting to a life of independence would require ​not a tiny amount​ of self-discovery. Yet I couldn't help but feel a flicker of anticipation for the possibilities that awaited me.

As the evening ​went on, we shared​ ​a meal and ​a couple of bottles of wine. The air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Jim, an old friend, became a beacon of familiarity, providing the grounding I needed to take my first steps forward.

Jim listened with empathy, offering words of encouragement ​, and ​the weight of my solitude seemed to dissipate.

We laughed, reminisced, and contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead of me.

.

.

I had about an equal amount of time driving today, so I was up early and on the road before dawn. I hit the West Virginia Turnpike and remembered that the craftsman had handmade wares at a nearby stop. It was just as I remembered, and I spent time walking around the circular building enjoying all the craftworks. I chose an exotic wood and resin cutting board for my foodie brother.

I got back in the car and soon hit the Ohio River.

The phone blasted over my speaker.

"Hey, Oliver," I answered, smiling, knowing he was checking on me.

"Everything okay?"

"Absolutely! I just crossed the river. It has been a great trip. Won't be long, and I'll be there."

"Okay, hon, just be careful!"

"Seeya soon."

I was so looking forward to seeing him. I hadn't seen Ethan for a few years when Dan and I went on a trip. Getting away from work was tough, so we didn't return as often as I'd have liked.

"Brookie!" Oliver came bounding out of the house and swept me up, spinning me around.

"God, it's so great to see you, "I said, laughing as he held me back on my feet but still hugged him.

"I know," he said, his voice rough in my ear. We hung onto each other for a few moments, saying a lot with no words needed.

I stepped back and swiped at my eyes as he did.

"I hope I get a hug too."

​"Ethan! Oh my god," I exclaimed, unable to contain my surprise. "I swore I wouldn't say it, but wow, you've grown so tall. It's funny how I used to dislike it when my aunts said the same thing to me at your age... but now I finally understand why."

My eyes scanned him from head to toe. Standing there now, he easily surpassed my brother's five foot nine by a couple of inches.

His chestnut hair cascaded in shiny, natural waves below his shoulders. It was one of those hairstyles that suited him perfectly. Ethan had that rare quality of pulling off long hair and making it look incredibly appealing. Not all men could rock long hair like Ethan.

​​

"That's okay," Ethan replied, a warm smile spreading across his face, lighting up his bright aqua eyes. It was like looking into mirrors of my own.

As our eyes locked, I couldn't help but be taken aback by the intensity in his eyes. It felt like his gaze delved into the depths of my soul, prompting me to avert my eyes from the uncomfortably intimate connection.

After an emotional bear hug, Oliver put his arm around my shoulders to guide me into the house, breaking the connection with Ethan. I didn't see him for the remainder of the evening.

.

.

Being in a new atmosphere and a new bed, I didn't sleep well last night and tried to catch some shut-eye mid-afternoon. I pulled the shades, which mercifully darkened the room. I undressed and slipped into the cool lavender-scented sheets. That made me smile, knowing my brother thought of that for me. The air conditioner hummed, and the heavy curtains stopped any sunlight or sound from seeping through.

My head hit the pillow, crisp against my cheek, and I closed my eyes and fell asleep as soon as I was horizontal.

I was jolted out of sleep by an unexpected sound and lay still in fright, not expecting anyone to be there. I waited a while before I allowed myself to relax, re-tucking the sheet underneath my chin. But suddenly, it was ripped away from me.

My eyes flew open in alarm as I felt a heavy body press down on mine. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I realized we were both naked, and I was at a distinct disadvantage. Before I could scream, a warm hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my terror. It was pitch black all around us.

I erupted with fury and beat my hands against his chest, back, and shoulders. Wherever I could reach, I heard his grunt of frustration as I made an impact and felt some of my body's tension ease.

But he was way too strong for me, one hand gripping both of my wrists above my head while the other held him on top of me, pinning me to the bed. Struggling like a wild animal, I did everything in my power to buck him off, but it was no use - there was no outmaneuvering his strength.

Keeping my legs clamped shut in resistance, I knew that parting them would be the biggest mistake I ever made.

A low, guttural moan ripped through the air, and I felt a sharp pain as teeth clamped down on my breast. Desperate to free myself, I thrashed violently against him but only served to inflame him. His grip tightened like an iron vice, and I felt a wave of panic wash over me.

He pinned me down, trapping me beneath his searing hot body. His legs were like iron bars around mine, and a fierce pressure pulsed against me from his throbbing hot cock. He growled deep in his throat, taking scorching nips around my breasts, sending ripples of pleasure through my skin that I fought to ignore.

I froze in place, the sound of his hungry desire, a familiar tone, ringing in my ears as the sensations traveled through my veins. His hard cock felt like a weapon between us, and I was utterly helpless.

"Ethan?" It was my nephew that was attacking me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

His hands held my arms, and his weight pinned me down. He began grinding his cock harder against me and kissed me, forcing his tongue into my mouth.

"Don't fight when I let your hands go." His voice was different. Like I'd never heard. Virile, aroused.

"No, I won't. You're hurting my wrists." Slowly, he relaxed his grip. His panting breaths puffed across my lips, and his cock throbbed hard between us. "I'll stroke your cock. Suck it if you want."

"Shut up. No," he growled. "I'm not going to rape you, so shut up."

He began to kiss me again. I didn't return it but allowed him to eat at my mouth. He kissed my neck and back down to my breasts. This time, he took them in his hands and squeezed them together, not gently, but not painfully.

He took a nipple in his teeth and bit, and I cried out. He laved it with his tongue and sucked it hard, and I twisted to get away from him, but he was still on top of me and easily held me down. His legs were tight outside mine, and I could not move.

He started to suck my tender skin. It was stinging each time he did it. I still arched, trying to throw him off, but he just held my tits and went between nipping and sucking my nipples. I began to moan from the quick jolts of pain but was shocked by the wetness that seeped between my legs.

The pain turned to pleasure. I tried to fight it off and feel the pain. The more I tried, the more aroused I felt. I was mortified.

"Ethan! Stop! Please," I begged.

"You know you don't really want me to stop," he murmured against my skin.

He rocked his cock into my mound, and my hips rocked back instinctively. I felt his smile against my skin.

He moved up, wrapped my hair in his fist, and began to kiss me, rocking against me rhythmically. He growled into my mouth, and I felt the explosion of wet heat between our bodies. Skin to skin, I felt every pulse and every pump of his cock. Then, the shudder of his body on mine.

He dropped his head, his mouth on my neck.

"Oh, Brooke, I sensed it immediately. You felt it, too, I know. Don't deny it."

"Get off me! What the hell is wrong with you?"

I was angry. Angrier than I've ever been in my life. Furious, he invaded my privacy. He stirred up an unexpected side of me I didn't know existed that only fueled my anger.

"What will you do? Tell my Dad?" he said. "Tell him how much you enjoyed his son's naked body against yours, how his son made you moan with pleasure. Tell him how your arousal matched mine."

"I'd never hurt him like that." I rolled over. "Go. Leave me alone. And don't think about ever doing this again," I retorted.

After I heard the door close, I got up and went to the bathroom to shower. I looked into the mirror to pin my hair on top of my head, and that's when I saw them.

My breasts were covered with tiny red bruises. My nipples were tender. I touched them, and instead of hurting, I felt the pull in my cunt. I averted my eyes and stepped into the shower.

.

.

We sat down to dinner, and everything was as usual. I breezed through the motions of eating, but all I could think about was Ethan's hands on my thighs. He had pressed against me in the dark and sucked a bruise onto my neck. The weight of him, hot and wanting, made a mark upon my body that would never fade. I was so wet from his touch that I could imagine it running down my legs like a trail of sweet, warm syrup. He loved watching how I responded to his attention.

I ducked my head against the embarrassment of being so easily aroused and berated myself for not being able to control myself around him much better than this. But he's an eighteen-year-old boy, I thought. He let his hormones get the best of him, like many do at that age.

What about the intense emotions I experienced? What about my own heightened arousal throughout that entire experience?

He hadn't raped me. Forced himself inside me. I knew then that he wouldn't.

.

.

A week passed, and it was as though it never happened. It was as though it was a different Ethan. One was the perfect young nephew; the other, Ethan, made my body feel things I'd never felt before.

I went down for breakfast one morning, and the house was empty. Oliver had already left for work, and Ethan must have had classes because he was gone as well.

​After returning from shopping, I unlocked the front door and kicked off my shoes. Bag in hand, I made my way to the bedroom and emptied its contents onto the bedspread. The black lace panties and bra waited for me; their intricate designs were more beautiful than anything I'd ever had. As I admired them, I picked up a one-piece swimsuit to wear while lounging in the backyard pool. Clothing for my new life, I thought happily.

I peeled off my clothes, tossed them into the hamper, and headed to the bathroom to shower. My hair desperately needed a wash, so I wet it and massaged shampoo into my scalp.

Creamy eucalyptus filled the air as I lathered up with a fluffy sponge. The sensation on my skin was tantalizing and arousing. Each stroke of the sponge sent shivers throughout my body as I rinsed off under the warm water.

The bruises Ethan had left behind were long gone, but the memories lingered. However, this moment was about caring for myself and feeling good in my skin.

"Seems you need help."

​I glance​d​ over my shoulder, catching sight of Ethan stepping into the shower and shutting the glass door​, completely naked and exposed. I couldn't stop myself from taking stock of his body momentarily. He was big and young and virile.

"Leave now, Ethan," I said, still facing away from him. "Just because I didn't tell your Dad last time doesn't mean I won't. You're invading my privacy at best."

Completely ignoring my words, he reached over my shoulder, took the sponge out of my hands, and began running it up and down my back, across my shoulders, down my side, and back up.

I crossed my arms in front of me. For protection? I'm trapped again. I'm not strong enough to push him out of the way. I can only hope he'll get off and leave like he did before.

He ran the sponge around and around on my ass, and I bit my lower lip. The sponge glided down my legs, then back up, squeezing between. I planted my feet next to each other, and he chuckled confidently.

"Ethan, it's not funny. Please go."

He pressed the sponge between my ass cheeks and ran it up and down. I gritted my teeth.

"Turn around, Brooke."

I didn't move.

"Turn around." He waited a few seconds and warned in a darker tone, "Now."

I relented, but I still had my arms crossed in front of me.

"Ethan, why are you doing this? You must have lots of girls that want you."

"Sure." His eyes swept over my body. "But they aren't you," he said vaguely, concentrating on dripping more body soap on the sponge. "Lower your arms."

"No."

"Brooke." He pressed his lips together. "Lower your arms."

His eyes were lusty but tinged with anger at my reluctance. I could have quickly done what he said. If I were sure, he would only have humped against me again if I weren't so afraid of my own feelings.

The memories of the pleasure I felt from the pain came flooding back, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs.

I dropped my arms and let them hang by my side. While he soaped each arm, I could look at his body. ​He was an irresistible temptation of forbidden desires, and I was caught between longing and restraint. His broad shoulders exuded an almost frightening power as they tapered down to a narrow waist, creating a deep V that accentuated the base of his thick cock. His physique was sculpted from dedicated weightlifting. The power he exuded was simultaneously sensual and intimidating.

He was shaved at the base, as were his balls. They were fat and full behind his thick rigid cock and swayed heavily as he moved.

He put the sponge on my chest, and I raised my eyes. Caught in the act, he smiled knowingly and began to work from side to side, then around each breast. He ran the sponge's flat across my nipples, and I stifled a gasp each time.

The sponge slid across my midriff, my belly, and lower. My legs were still tight together. His hand was following the path of the sponge.

He concentrated as he worked, carefully circling each breast with his hand, then palm my nipple. I bit my lower lip to keep from crying out. He never looked up but smiled knowingly, then moved to the other breast. My nipple bulleted hard in his palm and caused a rush to my pussy.