I still get wet every time I think about that camping trip with my brother. We were both adults, me twenty-two and him twenty-four, and it was supposed to be a simple weekend escape from the city, just the two of us hiking and fishing like we used to when we were kids.
Our parents had bailed at the last minute, leaving us alone with the gear and a whole stretch of remote woods. I packed light, thinking nothing of it, but the first night in the tent changed everything.
The air was thick and warm, the kind that makes your skin stick to everything. We shared a two-person tent because we’d done it before without issue. That night, though, the heat pressed in. I stripped down to just my panties and a thin tank top, lying on my sleeping bag while he lay a foot away in his boxers. We talked for hours, voices low, about old times, about how lonely we both felt lately. His hand brushed my arm by accident, then stayed there. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it.
“Remember when we used to wrestle as kids?” he said, voice rough. I laughed, but it came out shaky. Before I knew it, we were play-fighting, bodies rolling in the small space, skin sliding against skin. His chest was hard against my breasts, and I felt his cock thicken against my thigh through the thin fabric. I should have pulled away, but I didn’t. Instead I pressed back, grinding just a little. He groaned, low and dirty, and his hand slid under my tank top, cupping my tit, thumb flicking my nipple until it ached.
“Fuck, sis,” he whispered. “You’re so soft.” That was all it took. My hand found his cock, wrapping around the thick length through his boxers, stroking him slow and firm. He was huge, hotter than I expected, and already leaking. I pulled his boxers down and took him in my mouth right there, sucking the head, licking the salty slit while he grabbed my hair and pushed deeper. I gagged but kept going, loving the way he cursed and thrust, using my mouth like he’d been waiting years.
He flipped me onto my back, yanked my panties off, and buried his face between my legs. His tongue was relentless, licking my clit in hard circles, then fucking into my pussy with wet, noisy strokes. I came hard, thighs shaking around his head, juices coating his chin. But he wasn’t done. He climbed over me, lined that fat cock up with my soaked entrance, and shoved in deep in one thrust. I was so tight around him it burned in the best way. We fucked like animals, the tent filling with the slap of skin and my moans. He pounded me missionary, then flipped me onto all fours and took me from behind, gripping my hips and slamming in so hard the tent shook.
“Tell me you want your brother’s cum,” he growled. I begged for it, filthy and loud, telling him to fill his little sister’s cunt. He did, pulsing hot and thick inside me, breeding me with every spurt. We didn’t stop there. He stayed hard, pulled out, and pushed into my ass with spit and cum for lube. It hurt at first, then felt so full and dirty I came again, clenching around him while he railed my ass and called me his slut.
By morning light we were still tangled, sticky with sweat and cum. We spent the whole next day hiking but sneaking off to fuck against trees, in the lake, bent over the picnic table. Every position, every hole, raw and bare. We didn’t talk about stopping. We just kept going until the trip ended, knowing we’d find reasons to camp again soon.
That weekend turned into our secret. Every time we pitch a tent now, I know exactly what’s coming, and I get soaked just thinking about it.
