The old house creaked under the weight of summer heat, every board remembering the years we had spent pretending we were only brother and sister. I stood in the doorway of her bedroom, the one we had shared as kids before the world told us we had to stop touching. She was twenty-four now, and I was twenty-six, and the rules had rotted away the second she texted me to come home alone.
She wore nothing but one of my old shirts, the hem barely covering the curve of her ass. Her nipples pressed hard against the thin cotton. “Lock the door,” she said, voice low and already thick with want. I turned the key and the click sounded louder than it should have.
She stepped close, grabbed my belt, and yanked me forward. “We’re not pretending tonight.” Her hand slid down, squeezed my cock through my jeans, and felt it swell under her fingers. “Fuck, you’re already hard for your sister.”
I didn’t answer with words. I shoved the shirt up, exposing her tits, and sucked one nipple into my mouth while my hand went between her legs. She was dripping, slick and hot, no panties in the way. Two fingers pushed inside her cunt without warning and she gasped, hips jerking forward.
“God, yes—finger-fuck me like you mean it.” She ground down on my hand, clit rubbing against my palm. I curled my fingers, found that spot that made her knees shake, and pumped harder. Wet sounds filled the room. She reached between us, unzipped me, and pulled my cock out, stroking it with tight, fast pulls.
“Bed,” she ordered. We fell onto the mattress together, her legs spreading wide. I lined up and drove into her in one thrust. She was tight, scorching, gripping me like she had been waiting years for this exact moment. Her nails dug into my back. “Harder. Fuck your sister like you’ve always wanted to.”
I slammed into her, the headboard knocking against the wall. Each thrust made her tits bounce. She reached down, rubbed her clit in quick circles while I pounded her, cunt clenching and fluttering around my shaft. “I’m gonna come already—don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop.”
She came with a sharp cry, pussy pulsing, soaking my cock and the sheets. I kept fucking her through it, chasing my own release. She flipped us suddenly, straddling me, and sank back down, riding me with rolling hips. Her tits swayed above my face. I sucked one nipple again while she bounced, taking every inch.
“Tell me,” she panted. “Tell me whose cunt this is.”
“Yours,” I growled. “My sister’s tight little cunt.”
She moaned louder, grinding down harder. Sweat slicked our skin. The room smelled like sex and the faint trace of her perfume. She leaned forward, kissed me deep, tongues sliding, then bit my lower lip.
“Come inside me. Fill your sister up.”
I grabbed her hips and thrust up to meet her, pace turning frantic. My balls tightened, pressure building until I exploded, shooting thick ropes of cum deep into her. She kept riding, milking every drop, until she came again with a broken whimper, walls squeezing me dry.
We stayed locked together, breathing hard. She rested her forehead against mine. Outside, the house settled into silence, but inside this room the air still hummed with everything we had just done and everything we both knew we would do again before morning.
