The rain hammered the windows of the old terraced house in Manchester. Mark, twenty-three and built from years of warehouse work, sat on the sofa with his sister Emma, twenty-one and fresh out of uni. Their parents were gone for the weekend, leaving the place empty except for the two of them and a bottle of cheap vodka.
Emma poured another round. “Fuck this weather,” she said, knocking it back. Her T-shirt clung to her tits from the damp air, nipples poking out hard. Mark stared. She caught him and didn’t look away.
“You keep looking at my chest like that and I’ll think you want to fuck me,” she said flat.
Mark set his glass down. “Maybe I do. Been thinking about it since you turned eighteen.”
Emma laughed once, short and dirty. She stood, peeled the shirt off, and dropped it. Her tits were full, pale, with pink nipples already stiff. “Then stop thinking and get your cock out.”
Mark yanked his jeans down. His dick sprang up thick and veined, already leaking. Emma dropped to her knees right there on the living-room rug and wrapped her hand around it.
“Jesus, big brother,” she muttered, then slid her mouth down the shaft. She sucked loud and wet, spit running down his balls while she bobbed. Mark grabbed her hair and fucked her throat in short thrusts.
“Gag on it,” he growled. She did, choking, eyes watering, but she didn’t pull off. When she came up for air, strings of saliva connected her lips to his cockhead.
Emma stood, shoved her leggings and knickers down in one move, and climbed onto the sofa on all fours.
“Fuck me then. Hard.”
Mark knelt behind her, lined up, and drove in balls-deep in one shove. Emma’s cunt was soaked, gripping him tight. He pounded her straight away, skin slapping, the sofa creaking under them. Every thrust made her tits swing and her arse ripple.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Use that incest cock on your little sister.”
Mark reached under, rubbed her clit in rough circles while he slammed into her. Emma came fast, cunt pulsing around him, moaning loud enough the neighbours might hear. He didn’t slow down. He flipped her onto her back, hooked her legs over his shoulders, and kept driving deep.
“Fill me up,” she begged. “Come in my pussy.”
Mark grunted, thrust once more, and unloaded. Thick ropes of spunk pumped into her, overflowing and leaking out around his shaft. He stayed buried until he softened, then pulled out and watched his load drip from her swollen slit.
They didn’t stop there. Emma sucked him hard again in the kitchen while he bent her over the table. Later they moved to the shower, water running cold while he fucked her standing up, her back against the tiles. By morning they were in their parents’ bed, Mark on top, slow-grinding deep while Emma whispered every filthy thing she’d ever wanted her brother to do to her.
When the parents’ car pulled into the drive Sunday night, Mark was still inside her, both of them sticky and spent, already planning the next time they could be alone.
