She walked into the kitchen in nothing but my old t-shirt, the hem barely covering her ass. At twenty-three she still had that same cocky little smirk she’d had since we were kids, but now it made my dick twitch every time. I was twenty-five, home from college for the summer, and the house was empty except for us. Mom and Dad were gone for the weekend. We both knew what was coming.
“Quit staring at my legs, perv,” she said, reaching past me for a glass. Her tits brushed my arm. No bra. Hard nipples. I grabbed her wrist.
“Stop teasing,” I growled. “You’ve been doing it all week.”
She laughed, low and dirty. “Maybe I want you to do something about it.”
I spun her around and pinned her against the counter. My hand went straight under the shirt. No panties either. Her pussy was already wet, slick folds parting under my fingers. She gasped when I shoved two fingers inside her.
“Fuck, bro,” she moaned. “You’re really doing it.”
“Shut up and spread your legs.” I finger-fucked her hard right there, thumb grinding her clit. She pushed back against my hand, grinding like a slut. I pulled my fingers out, shoved them in her mouth so she could taste herself, then yanked my shorts down. My cock sprang out, thick and throbbing.
She dropped to her knees without being told. “Been wanting to suck this for years,” she said, then swallowed half of it in one go. Wet, sloppy, loud. Spit ran down her chin onto her tits. I grabbed her hair and fucked her face, balls slapping her chin. She gagged but didn’t pull away.
When I pulled out she stood up, ripped the shirt off, and bent over the counter. “Do it. Fuck your sister.”
I slammed into her from behind. Tight, hot, dripping. She cried out and pushed back, taking every inch. I pounded her like I hated her, skin slapping, her ass rippling with every thrust. She reached back and spread her cheeks so I could watch my cock disappear into her cunt.
“Harder,” she begged. “Make it hurt.”
I flipped her onto the kitchen table, spread her legs wide, and drove back in. Her tits bounced with every stroke. I leaned down and sucked a nipple hard while I fucked her, then bit it. She came first, pussy clenching around me, juices soaking my balls. I didn’t stop. I kept railing her through it until she was shaking.
We moved to the couch. She rode me reverse, ass bouncing, my hands spreading her cheeks so I could watch her asshole wink while she took my cock. She reached down and rubbed her clit, came again, then slid off and sucked me clean.
“Want my ass?” she asked, voice hoarse.
I didn’t answer. I just bent her over the arm of the couch, spit on her hole, and pushed in. She screamed into the cushion but pushed back, taking it. I fucked her ass slow at first, then faster, balls deep. She fingered her pussy while I wrecked her.
When I was close I pulled out, dragged her to the floor, and came all over her face and tits. Thick ropes. She licked it off her lips and smiled up at me.
“Round two in the shower,” she said.
We didn’t sleep that night. We fucked in every room, every position, raw and filthy, until the sun came up. By morning we were sore, covered in cum and sweat, and already planning the next weekend alone.
