I never planned on fucking my sister. But in that cramped Jakarta apartment with the fan rattling and the monsoon pounding the tin roof, things just snapped.
Rina was eighteen, legal, and had just come home from university for the holidays. I was twenty-two, working nights at the port, sweaty and pent up. Our parents were out of town visiting relatives in Surabaya, leaving the two of us alone in the tiny two-bedroom flat. The walls were thin. We’d always been close, but lately the air between us felt thick.
That first night she walked out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel that barely covered her ass. Water still dripped down her thighs. She caught me staring and didn’t look away.
“You keep looking at me like that, Mas,” she said, using the old Javanese word for brother. Her voice was low and teasing. “You want to see more?”
I should have laughed it off. Instead I stood up, cock already hard in my shorts, and stepped closer. “Take the towel off.”
She dropped it. Her tits were full and heavy, nipples dark and stiff. Her pussy was shaved smooth, lips already glistening. She stood there letting me look, breathing fast.
I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against me. My mouth went straight to her neck, then lower, sucking one nipple hard while my hand slid between her legs. She was soaked. Two fingers sank into her tight cunt with a wet sound.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” I growled against her skin.
Rina moaned and reached into my shorts, wrapping her fingers around my thick cock. “Been thinking about this for months,” she whispered. “Every time you walked around shirtless. Every time I heard you jerking off at night.”
I pushed her onto the old couch, spread her thighs wide, and buried my face in her pussy. She tasted sweet and salty.
I licked her clit in hard circles while two fingers fucked her, curling up to hit that spot inside. She came fast, thighs clamping around my head, juices running down my chin.
“More,” she begged. “I want your cock.”
I stood, shoved my shorts down, and fed her every inch. She was tight as hell. I had to work it in slowly, watching her face twist with pleasure and a little pain. Once I was balls-deep I started pounding. The couch creaked. Her tits bounced with every thrust. She clawed my back and kept saying “Harder, Mas, fuck your sister harder.”
We didn’t stop at one round. I flipped her onto all fours and took her from behind, watching her ass ripple every time I slammed in. She reached back and spread her cheeks so I could see everything. I spat on her asshole and rubbed my thumb over it while I fucked her cunt. She came again, screaming into a cushion so the neighbors wouldn’t hear.
Later that night we moved to the bedroom. She rode me slow and deep, grinding her clit against my pubic bone, sweat dripping off her nipples onto my chest. I grabbed her hips and thrust up hard, filling her again and again until she collapsed on top of me, shaking.
We fucked every night after that. Morning showers turned into quickies against the bathroom wall. Afternoons on the living-room floor. One time I bent her over the kitchen table while she tried to cook, fucking her so hard the rice cooker shook. She’d whisper filthy things in Indonesian and English mixed together—“Kontolmu enak banget, big brother cock feels so good”—and I’d answer by pounding her until she squirted down my legs.
By the time our parents came home we had a system. Quiet, careful, but never stopping. Rina would sneak into my room after midnight, climb on top of me, and ride until we both came. Sometimes she’d suck me off under the dinner table while our parents watched TV in the next room, her tongue working the head while I tried to keep a straight face.
We never talked about stopping. We just kept going, raw and dirty, two adults who couldn’t get enough of each other’s bodies. The heat, the risk, the wrongness only made it hotter. Every time I came inside her I knew we’d do it again the next night.
And we did. Again and again, until the monsoon season ended and the rest of the world started to feel far away.
