I was twenty-two and he was twenty-four when it finally happened. We’d been circling each other for years, ever since our parents moved us into that tiny two-bedroom apartment after the divorce. I’d catch him staring when I walked out of the shower in nothing but a towel. He’d leave his bedroom door open while he jerked off, knowing I could hear every wet stroke from the hallway. We never talked about it until that night.
We were both drunk on cheap whiskey after a stupid argument about whose turn it was to do dishes.
I shoved him. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head against the fridge. His cock was already hard against my stomach.
“Say it,” he growled. “Say you want your brother’s dick.”
I spat the words back at him. “I want my brother to fuck me raw.”
That was all it took. He yanked my shorts down, spun me around, and bent me over the kitchen counter. My cheek pressed against the cold laminate while he kicked my feet apart. Two thick fingers shoved straight into my cunt without warning. I was soaked already.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered. “Been waiting for this, haven’t you?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled his fingers out, replaced them with his cock, and slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust. I cried out, half pain, half relief. He was thick and I hadn’t been fucked in months. He didn’t ease up. He fucked me like he hated me, hips snapping hard enough to make my thighs slap the cabinet doors.
Every time he bottomed out he grunted, “Take it. Take your brother’s cock.” I pushed back against him, meeting every thrust, moaning like a slut who’d been waiting years for exactly this.
He pulled out suddenly, flipped me onto the counter, and spread my legs wide. His mouth went straight to my pussy, tongue fucking me deep before he sucked my clit hard enough to make my back arch. I came on his face in under a minute, thighs shaking around his head.
When he stood up, his chin was shiny with my come. He wiped it across my mouth, then shoved his tongue in so I could taste myself. While we kissed he lined up again and pushed back inside, slower this time, grinding deep so I felt every inch.
We moved to the couch. I rode him facing away, reverse cowgirl, so he could watch his cock disappear into me. He reached around and rubbed my clit in tight circles until I came again, clenching around him so hard he had to grab my hips to keep from blowing too soon.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered.
I slid off and took him in my mouth. He tasted like me. I sucked him sloppy and deep, gagging when he held the back of my head and fucked my throat. Spit ran down my chin onto my tits. He pulled out just before he came, painted my face with thick ropes, then used his cock to smear it across my lips.
We weren’t done. He carried me to his bed, dropped me on my back, and folded me in half. My knees were by my ears while he drilled into me again, balls slapping my ass with every thrust. I begged him to come inside me. He did, groaning my name as he pumped load after load deep in my cunt.
We lay there panting, his come leaking out of me onto his sheets. Ten minutes later he was hard again. This time he took me on my stomach, slow and deep, one hand around my throat, the other rubbing my clit until I came so hard I soaked the mattress.
By morning we’d fucked in every room. Shower. His bed again. The floor. We didn’t talk about what it meant. We just kept going until we were both too sore to move.
That was the first night. It wasn’t the last.
