Barely

The moment the first powerful pulse begins—his cock swelling impossibly thicker inside you, the tell-tale clench that signals he's about to erupt—raw panic surges through you like lightning.

"No—no!" you cry out, the haze of lust shattering as survival instinct takes over. With every ounce of strength left in your trembling body, you twist violently beneath him, nails clawing at his hips, thighs snapping shut as you buck sideways with **** ****. Your hands shove at his chest, legs kicking to dislodge him. He groans in frustrated shock, trying to hold deep, but your frantic struggle wins—he slips free with a slick, wet pop just as the first thick spurt erupts.

The hot rope streaks across your belly and mound in a messy arc, missing your entrance entirely. The second and third follow in powerful jets over your thighs and pussy lips, painting your skin in sticky white strands, but nothing—nothing—makes it inside. You clamp your legs tight, rolling away from him as the rest of his orgasm spills harmlessly onto your skin and the couch, his hand stroking himself through the release in tortured ecstasy.

You scramble back, panting wildly, wiping frantically at the mess on the outside, heart hammering with terror and overwhelming relief. Safe. I got him out in time. Nothing got in. The warmth is all external, dripping down your skin but not seeping deeper. You think it desperately, convinced you're still protected, the curse denied one more time.

A deep, aching emptiness blooms inside you almost immediately—an instinctive, gnawing void where the promised flood should have been. Your womb clenches hard on nothing, a sharp, frustrated spasm that makes you whimper involuntarily. The walls of your pussy flutter and contract in rhythmic waves, as if searching, begging for the hot rush that was snatched away at the last second. A fresh gush of your own slickness leaks out, thicker and creamier than before, your arousal peaking painfully with no release, clit throbbing in angry protest. Your hips buck once into empty air, chasing a fullness that isn't there, and a soft, needy whine escapes your lips before you can stop it.

He collapses beside you, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling with wide, conflicted eyes. He felt the timing—perfectly on the edge, the first pulse starting just as he cleared your entrance. No spurt made it inside. She's safe… I didn't do it, he thinks, guilt crashing in alongside frustrated desire.

You curl up, legs pressed together, breath shaky but steadying. The fear lingers, but so does the need to get your brothers cum in your belly. You avoided disaster. Barely.

The post nut clarity hits both of you. You realize what just happened and how close you both got to ruining both of your lifes. Your brother hands you a couple of wipes to clean up your sperm covered body. There is a certain awkwardness between you now - you just had sex with your sibling for the first time...at least the first time when you are awake to feel it.

"I...think I'll take a shower and go to bed. The curse should end tomorrow morning. So unless you didn't pull out in time, you'll see your lame old brother tomorrow for breakfast." your voice sounds raspy from the moaning and screaming. "Alright. Sorry for losing my composure. I'll sleep on the couch and see your ugly mug tomorrow"

You grab your drenched and ripped G string and your shirt and head upstairs. Uneasy sleep and wet dreams await.