I never planned to fuck my sister. But once it started, there was no stopping the filthy truth of it.
It was a rainy Tuesday night, both of us home from failed dates and too much whiskey. Rachel was 23, I was 25, and we'd always been close—too close, people said. She walked into my room wearing nothing but a thin tank top and panties, nipples hard from the chill. "Move over," she muttered, sliding into my bed like it was normal. Her ass brushed my thigh and my cock twitched instantly.
"Fuck, Rach, what are you doing?" I growled, already hard.
She turned to face me, eyes dark. "I'm horny as hell and tired of pretending. You want this too. I see how you look at me." Her hand went straight to my dick, squeezing through my boxers. "Jesus, it's thick."
I didn't argue. I grabbed her tit, thumbing the nipple, and kissed her hard. Tongues sliding, teeth clashing. She tasted like rum and bad decisions. I yanked her tank top down and sucked her nipple into my mouth, biting just enough to make her gasp. "Suck it harder, big brother," she hissed.
Her fingers shoved my boxers down and wrapped around my shaft, stroking fast and tight. Precum leaked over her knuckles. I reached between her legs and found her soaked. Two fingers pushed inside her pussy without warning, curling to hit that spot. She moaned loud, hips bucking. "Yes, finger-fuck me. Make me drip."
I flipped her onto her back, spread her thighs, and buried my face in her cunt. Licking her clit in rough circles, sucking it, then tongue-fucking her hole. She tasted sweet and dirty at the same time. Her hands fisted my hair, grinding against my mouth. "Eat your sister's pussy, you pervert. Don't stop."
When she came, she flooded my tongue, thighs clamping my head. I didn't give her time to recover. I climbed up, slapped my cock against her wet slit, and shoved in balls-deep in one thrust. She was tight, hot, and perfect. We both groaned like animals.
I fucked her hard from the start—deep, slamming strokes that made the bed creak. Her tits bounced with every thrust. "Take it," I snarled. "Take your brother's cock." She wrapped her legs around me, heels digging into my ass, pulling me deeper. "Harder, fuck me harder. Fill me up."
We switched positions fast. Doggy, her ass up, face down. I gripped her hips and pounded, watching my dick disappear into her. The wet sounds were obscene. I reached under and rubbed her clit until she came again, pussy pulsing around me. Then I pulled out, flipped her, and shoved back in missionary so I could watch her face while I bred her.
"Want me to cum inside?" I asked, voice rough.
"Yes, fill your sister's cunt," she begged, nails raking my back. "Pump it all in me."
I lost it. One last brutal thrust and I exploded, shooting thick ropes deep inside her. She came with me, milking every drop. We stayed locked together, panting, sweat-slicked.
After that night it became regular. Quickies in the kitchen, her bent over the counter while our parents were out. Long sessions in the shower, her on her knees sucking me clean after I came down her throat. We talked dirty the whole time—calling each other brother and sister while we fucked like it was the hottest thing in the world.
It never got old. The taboo made every thrust hotter, every moan filthier. We knew it was wrong, but that only made us cum harder. And we didn't stop. Not for a long time.
