I never planned on fucking my sister. But the second she climbed into my bed that night, all bets were off.
It started with a storm knocking out the power. We were both stuck at the family cabin, adults now—me thirty-two, her twenty-nine—and the only two people for miles. She came padding down the hall in nothing but an old T-shirt that barely covered her ass.
“Move over,” she said, voice low and already thick with something dangerous. “It’s freezing in my room.”
I lifted the blanket. She slid in, back to my chest, and the heat of her body hit me like a drug. Her bare thighs brushed mine. No panties. I knew it the instant my cock twitched against the curve of her ass.
She didn’t pull away. Instead she pushed back, slow and deliberate, grinding that soft, warm ass against my hardening dick.
“Fuck, Mia,” I muttered.
“Shut up and touch me,” she answered, grabbing my hand and shoving it between her legs. She was already soaked. Two fingers slid inside her with zero resistance. She moaned, low and filthy, and started rocking on my hand like she’d been waiting years for it.
I curled my fingers, found that spot that made her gasp, and pumped her hard. Her cunt clenched around me, dripping down my wrist. She reached back, yanked my cock free of my boxers, and wrapped her fingers around it.
“Thick as I always imagined,” she breathed, stroking me rough and fast. “Gonna stretch my pussy so good.”
I flipped her onto her back, shoved the T-shirt up, and sucked one stiff nipple into my mouth while I lined up and drove straight in. She was tight, hot, and so fucking wet I bottomed out on the first thrust. Mia cried out, legs locking around my waist.
“Harder,” she demanded. “Fuck me like you mean it, big brother.”
I gave her exactly that. Pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, again and again, the headboard slamming the wall. Her tits bounced with every thrust. She clawed my back, raked her nails down my spine, and begged for more.
“Fill me up,” she panted. “Want to feel you come inside this cunt.”
I hooked her knees over my shoulders, folded her in half, and pounded her deep. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. Her pussy fluttered, then locked down hard as she came, squirting around my cock, soaking the sheets. I didn’t stop. I fucked her straight through it, chasing my own orgasm, until my balls tightened and I unloaded deep inside her, pulse after pulse of thick cum painting her walls.
We didn’t talk after. Just lay there breathing hard, my cock still twitching inside her.
Ten minutes later she rolled onto her stomach, reached back, and spread her ass cheeks.
“Again,” she said. “This time in my ass.”
I spat on her hole, worked two fingers in, then pressed the head of my cock against it. She pushed back, taking me slow and steady until I was buried to the hilt in her tight ass. I fucked her like that for what felt like hours—slow, deep, dirty strokes while she fingered her own clit and came again and again. When I finally pulled out and painted her ass and lower back with another load, she reached back and rubbed it into her skin like lotion.
By sunrise we’d used every surface in the cabin. She rode me on the couch, sucked me clean in the shower, bent over the kitchen table while I ate her pussy from behind and then fucked her standing up. Every time she called me “brother” it made both of us come harder.
We never spoke about it after we left the cabin. But every time the family gets together now, she gives me that look across the room, and I know exactly where we’ll end up once everyone’s asleep.
Raw. Dirty. Ours.
