I never meant for it to go this far. It started the summer I turned twenty-five, back on the old family farm after Dad’s accident left everything to me and my older brother, Mark. We were both adults, living under the same roof again like when we were kids, except now the house felt too quiet and the nights too long. Mark was thirty, broad-shouldered from years of hauling feed, with the same dark eyes I remembered from childhood but now they lingered on me when I bent over the kitchen table.
One humid evening after chores, we shared a bottle of whiskey on the porch. Talk turned raw fast. He admitted he’d watched me through the barn window the week before, touching myself after feeding the livestock. I should have been ashamed, but the heat between my legs said otherwise. “Show me again,” he said, voice low and rough. I pulled my shorts down right there, legs spread on the old wooden swing. His hand replaced mine, fingers thick and calloused, working my clit until I came hard against his palm.
That was the first time. After that, we stopped pretending. Mark fucked me in every room of the house—my bed, the shower, bent over the kitchen counter while the radio played. He’d hold my hips and pound into me, whispering how tight my pussy felt compared to the girls in town. I rode him on the living room couch, tits bouncing, begging him to fill me up. Incest felt dirty and perfect, the taboo making every thrust hotter.
But the farm had another secret. We had a big black mastiff named Rex, kept for guarding the property. Rex was always around, watching with those intelligent eyes. One afternoon Mark caught me in the barn, naked on a hay bale, fingers deep in my cunt while I thought about him. Rex had wandered in, nose twitching. Instead of shooing him away, Mark just leaned against the doorframe and said, “Let him smell you.”
My heart hammered, but I didn’t stop. I spread my thighs wider. Rex padded closer, cold nose pressing against my wet folds. The first lick was tentative, then hungry. His tongue was wide and rough, lapping from my asshole to my clit in long strokes. I moaned loud, hips rocking against that animal tongue. Mark watched, stroking his cock. “That’s it, sis. Let the beast taste what’s mine.”
We did it again the next day, and the next. Rex would mount me from behind while I braced on all fours in the straw. His front paws gripped my waist, claws scraping skin, and that thick red cock would jab until it found my hole. The stretch was intense, almost too much, but once he locked in I came screaming. Mark would fuck my mouth at the same time, holding my head while Rex knotted inside me, pumping hot cum deep. The combination—my brother’s cock down my throat and the dog’s pulsing inside my pussy—made me shake and squirt every time.
We got bolder. Mark took me on the living room rug with Rex licking my tits while he fucked me missionary. Or I’d suck Mark off while Rex mounted me standing, the dog’s weight heavy on my back. The smells of hay, sweat, and animal musk filled the barn each afternoon. Mark would talk dirty the whole time: “Look at you, taking that dog cock like a whore. My little sister, full of beast cum.” I’d beg for more, coming so hard my legs gave out.
Weeks passed like that. The guilt never really left, but the pleasure drowned it. Mark and I still fucked each other senseless at night, his cock claiming what Rex had used during the day.
Sometimes we’d all three end up in the barn together, bodies tangled, cum leaking down my thighs from both of them.
By the end of summer I knew I’d never go back to normal life. The farm, my brother, and the dog had claimed me completely. Every time Rex’s knot swelled inside me and Mark’s hand fisted my hair, I felt whole in the filthiest way possible. We kept the secret between the three of us, the barn door always closed, the pleasure endless.
