23-11-2024, 01:23 PM
(This post was last modified: 23-11-2024, 08:17 PM by Naruto411. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Incest warning
You sip your tea slowly, letting the warmth spread through you as you glance toward your brother. He’s leaning back in his chair now, his phone in hand, scrolling lazily through something that doesn’t seem to hold his interest. The sharp cut of his jawline is more pronounced than you remember, the neatly trimmed beard framing his face in a way that makes him look... older. Different.
The slut in your mind perks up, stretching like a cat. "Look at him," she purrs. "When did he get so jacked? Those shoulders could pin you down easily, couldn’t they? That beard—God, imagine how it would feel against your lips. Or better yet, on your thighs. Grazing your skin while his tongue does all the work."
You shake your head slightly, trying to refocus. He looks up, catching your eye, and smiles. “It’s good to see you,” he says, his voice deeper than you remember, rumbling low like it’s meant to be heard just by you. “Feels like I haven’t been home in ages.”
“How long are you staying?” you ask, your voice casual, but your throat feels tight, like the words don’t quite want to come out.
“A week, maybe two,” he replies, shrugging. “Depends on how much I can get done remotely. The semester was intense; I just need to recharge.”
Your eyes flicker to his arms as he stretches, the veins standing out against his forearm, the muscles flexing under his shirt. You can’t help but notice how much he’s filled out—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, the kind of build that makes you wonder how strong his grip would feel against your hips.
The slut whispers again, her tone teasing. "Don’t stare too long, or he’ll notice. But God, doesn’t he look good? Imagine pulling him close, feeling that beard scratch against your cheek. Or better yet, pressing those soft lips to yours until neither of you can breathe. What would it feel like between your legs, rough and soft at the same time, while he devours you?"
He says something else, but you barely register it, too busy hiding the flush rising to your cheeks. You nod, offering a vague response as you focus on your plate, nibbling at the edges of your toast to distract yourself.
When you finish eating, you excuse yourself, slipping into the washroom under the guise of freshening up. As you close the door, you turn toward the mirror, catching your reflection. Your cheeks are pink, your lips slightly parted, and your dress clings just a little too closely to your curves. You lift the hem, just enough to check your panties in the dim light. There’s no mistaking the damp spot—a darkened patch of fabric right at the center, evidence of thoughts you shouldn’t have entertained.
The slut in your mind smirks, her voice dripping with amusement. "Caught you, didn’t I? All it took was a few words, a glance, and now look at you—wet for your own brother. He’d notice if he got close enough. Don’t pretend you don’t wonder what he’d do if he saw."
You quickly smooth down your dress, composing yourself before stepping back out into the hall. The air feels heavier now, charged with something unspoken as you rejoin the room. But you keep your face neutral, your smile easy, pretending everything is perfectly normal.
You sip your tea slowly, letting the warmth spread through you as you glance toward your brother. He’s leaning back in his chair now, his phone in hand, scrolling lazily through something that doesn’t seem to hold his interest. The sharp cut of his jawline is more pronounced than you remember, the neatly trimmed beard framing his face in a way that makes him look... older. Different.
The slut in your mind perks up, stretching like a cat. "Look at him," she purrs. "When did he get so jacked? Those shoulders could pin you down easily, couldn’t they? That beard—God, imagine how it would feel against your lips. Or better yet, on your thighs. Grazing your skin while his tongue does all the work."
You shake your head slightly, trying to refocus. He looks up, catching your eye, and smiles. “It’s good to see you,” he says, his voice deeper than you remember, rumbling low like it’s meant to be heard just by you. “Feels like I haven’t been home in ages.”
“How long are you staying?” you ask, your voice casual, but your throat feels tight, like the words don’t quite want to come out.
“A week, maybe two,” he replies, shrugging. “Depends on how much I can get done remotely. The semester was intense; I just need to recharge.”
Your eyes flicker to his arms as he stretches, the veins standing out against his forearm, the muscles flexing under his shirt. You can’t help but notice how much he’s filled out—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, the kind of build that makes you wonder how strong his grip would feel against your hips.
The slut whispers again, her tone teasing. "Don’t stare too long, or he’ll notice. But God, doesn’t he look good? Imagine pulling him close, feeling that beard scratch against your cheek. Or better yet, pressing those soft lips to yours until neither of you can breathe. What would it feel like between your legs, rough and soft at the same time, while he devours you?"
He says something else, but you barely register it, too busy hiding the flush rising to your cheeks. You nod, offering a vague response as you focus on your plate, nibbling at the edges of your toast to distract yourself.
When you finish eating, you excuse yourself, slipping into the washroom under the guise of freshening up. As you close the door, you turn toward the mirror, catching your reflection. Your cheeks are pink, your lips slightly parted, and your dress clings just a little too closely to your curves. You lift the hem, just enough to check your panties in the dim light. There’s no mistaking the damp spot—a darkened patch of fabric right at the center, evidence of thoughts you shouldn’t have entertained.
The slut in your mind smirks, her voice dripping with amusement. "Caught you, didn’t I? All it took was a few words, a glance, and now look at you—wet for your own brother. He’d notice if he got close enough. Don’t pretend you don’t wonder what he’d do if he saw."
You quickly smooth down your dress, composing yourself before stepping back out into the hall. The air feels heavier now, charged with something unspoken as you rejoin the room. But you keep your face neutral, your smile easy, pretending everything is perfectly normal.
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