A Week Embracing Her

A week had passed. A week since you and your step-sister had left one world behind and joined another, with a whole different set of rules and expectations. You lay in bed and felt her arm drape lazily around your waist. The warmth and press of her naked body as she squeezed it up close to you, always the big spoon and embracing you as she would any of her other stuffed animals. A week in which you had began sharing everything with her: This bed, the bath, her clothes, the early-morning blowjob of your ever-present landlord… Now you had run your lips and tongue along the opposite side of a cock to her, there seemed little point in resisting or denying the sparks you felt every time she looked at you with those teasingly-glinting eyes.

You wanted her... wholly, and to yourself. That was what your heart screamed... And yet… Your mind and soul seemed to murmur different, terrible, secret additions. Truths, that you did not dare admit… even to yourself: That she wanted them. In as much as you were clearly not enough to satisfy all her raging desires. That if you truly wanted her to be happy, you would have to accept that other, wild and legs-open side to her. That you even found yourself drawn in, when they took her to the side and ravaged her. That you couldn’t help but watch, out of the corner of your eye… or listen on the far side of doors. Taking your own pitiful erection in hand and matching the pant of your breaths to the sound of her moans. It was incredible, to witness her sweating body be pitched back and forth by the muscular forms which shoved their way inside her from every angle they could. You could savour the image all day, hidden inside your head, as they finally felt done with her and settled down to let you lap the taste of your step-sibling’s juices from their descending spears. Your own little panty-clad excuse tucked away beneath a skirt or shorts or tights, throbbing with the excitement of it all.

Then of course… there was the even deeper whisper. Buried down behind every time you dutifully got down on your knees before them, or took one of those swollen pillars in hand. The laughable, obviously-false, patently absurd inkling... that perhaps you didn’t so much want her… as want to be her. Confident and sexy and so openly sure of everything you truly wanted. Feminine in the curvy, bouncing, flauntable way that your skinny, bony self could never actually be. Able to arouse those columns of flesh to attention with just a glance… and feel them slide on into the deepest recesses of your body... You didn’t want that. You did everything you were doing, because Jenny wanted you to. Because she had sacrificed so much to get you both away from the previous nightmare. You owed her everything she might ever want from you. She didn’t even need to ask.

There, in the darkness, she sent that caress smoothly across your waist. Rustling the sheets slightly, but never faltering in its progress. It slid down past your belly and across that dip above your pelvis, into the areas she had so carefully ran a razor across for you earlier. Behind you, you could already hear her breath catching. Feel her other arm moving where it stretched down between the fork of her own thighs. She had begun openly masturbating in this shared bed with you almost every night now, as if all the erotic happenings of each day were still not enough to quench the thirst inside of her. Listening to her moan and feeling her shuffle and writhe while still so close to you, in the otherwise clinging darkness of the night, was a thunderstorm of emotional reactions. Now she simply took your own genitalia into the equation as well. Soft, cool fingers clenching around your meagre manhood and stroking it into extended submission. It was hers, after all. Your whole body was hers. And she could choose when and how she claimed it forever.

Alone in the claustrophobic closeness of the night, neither of you made any sound but gasps and pants. She jerked you off at exactly the same pace as she was stroking herself, utilising both sets of pleasure receptors she claimed territory of. You lay your head back against her breasts and let the waves of pleasure wash over you. It was nothing like playing with yourself, to just let that other hand do its work upon your nerves. While knowing she was basically adding seasoning to her own efforts by using you. You felt the edge growing closer and closer as those fingers gripped tighter and the rhythm of their movements gained tempo. You were butter in her palm and grease to her wheels as she set you both sprinting toward the finish line. Then, in an instant, it was over. As the waves crashed upon the shore and roaring fell away from your ears. Several long streaks of semen shot out from in front of you, to presumably add another stain to already-crusty bed sheets. This was not a place where cleaning up was considered particularly necessary. This was a den of dirty happenings. Where creatures crawled into still coated in other people’s leavings and collapsed into unsuitable positions together.

Your step-sister kissed the back of your neck. She kept hold of your hairless, little ballsack. You would both drift off to sleep better like that.