Stand up for your old self trying to tell your brother that Evan is amazing...

Evan's Bedroom, Blackwood Family Home, Suburban Ohio, at 7:30 AM on Saturday June 15th, 2024 Day 1.

You try to straighten up, try to find some shred of your old confidence. "E-Evan is amazing," you manage, your voice coming out breathy and high-pitched, totally at odds with what you're trying to say. "He's—he's really smart, and—and kind, and you shouldn't—"

The words catch in your throat. A pulse of white-hot pleasure rips through your core, your pussy clenching so hard your knees nearly buckle. The curse doesn't want you talking about Evan. It doesn't want you defending your old self. Your eyes roll back slightly, a whimper escaping those plump glossy lips as your thighs tremble.

Derek raises an eyebrow, that cocky grin widening. "Defending my little brother? That's cute." He steps closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body. "But I don't see him here, do I? Just you, looking like you need someone to take care of you."

His hand comes up and cups your left tit through the mesh. The sensation is electric—his palm is warm and rough against your sensitive nipple, which hardens instantly under his touch. You gasp, your back arching involuntarily, pushing your chest into his grip. Your tit is so big his hand can barely contain it, the soft flesh spilling between his fingers as he squeezes.

"Fuck, these are real?" Derek groans, kneading the heavy globe, his thumb finding your stiff nipple and rolling it through the mesh. "Holy shit, baby, you're stacked."

"D-Derek, wait—" you stammer, but your body is betraying you completely. Your hips are swaying toward him, your cunt dripping so much you can feel wetness running down your inner thighs. His other hand drops to your hip, fingers curling around the waistband of those obscene vinyl shorts, and then slides downward. His palm presses flat against your mound, and you feel his fingers trace the wet slit of your pussy through the thin material.

"Goddamn," he breathes against your ear, his fingers pressing harder, finding your clit through the vinyl. "You're fucking soaked. You want this bad, don't you?"

Your mouth opens to protest but all that comes out is a moan—long, desperate, slutty. His fingers rub in slow circles over your clit and your whole body shudders. The pleasure is overwhelming, nothing like the muted, guilty feelings Evan used to have. This is a full-body tsunami, every nerve ending screaming for more.

From downstairs, you hear the front door open and your mother's voice calling up: "Boys! I'm running to the store for syrup—be back in twenty minutes!"

The door slams. A car engine starts. And Derek's grin turns predatory.

"Well now," he murmurs, his thumb pinching your nipple while his other hand keeps working your soaked pussy through those tiny shorts. "Looks like we got some privacy."

He pushes you backward until your legs hit the bed and you tumble onto the mattress, those massive tits bouncing wildly. Derek climbs over you, his thick cock straining against his sweatpants, the outline obscenely clear—long, thick, and throbbing. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your vinyl shorts and starts tugging them down your wide hips.

"Let's see what my brother's been hiding," he says.