I never planned for it to happen, but the truth is I’d been thinking about my brother Jake that way for months. We were both adults, him twenty-four and me twenty-two, sharing the old family house after our parents moved away.
One humid summer night, after too many drinks and a movie that got way too steamy, the tension snapped.
We were on the couch, lights low, the air thick with unspoken want. Jake’s hand brushed my thigh and stayed there. “You feel that too, don’t you?” he asked, voice low and rough.
I nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. It’s fucked up, but I do.”
He didn’t hesitate. His mouth crashed onto mine, hungry and demanding. Clothes came off fast—my tank top yanked over my head, his shirt ripped open. My tits spilled free and he sucked a nipple hard, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. “Fuck, sis, these are perfect,” he growled, fingers already sliding into my panties, finding me soaked.
I reached for his cock, thick and throbbing in my hand. “Put it in me,” I begged, raw and direct. He shoved my shorts down, spread my legs, and drove into me in one hard thrust. The stretch burned so good. We fucked right there on the couch, me riding him reverse so he could watch my ass bounce, then flipping me onto my back for deep, pounding strokes that made the whole room echo with wet slaps and our filthy moans.
“Tell me you want your brother’s cum,” he demanded, pounding faster.
“I want it—fill your sister up,” I cried, coming hard around him. He followed seconds later, flooding me deep while I clenched and shook.
We didn’t stop there. That night turned into hours of raw, messy sex—him eating me out on the kitchen counter, me sucking him off in the shower, both of us whispering every dirty taboo we’d held back. By morning we knew it was only the start.
