Being a teenager is difficult. It is a threshold—a beginning and an end. It is a time when a young woman is faced with desires she never before encountered, but only read about in the trashy romance books she would find hidden in her mother’s lingerie drawer. It is a time when she becomes extremely embarrassed with all the attention she gains when her breasts—which were not there just one year ago—sway with unrestricted motion. Small tight peaks that were once nonexistent grow and round out to become erotic crests. Their reality is defined by unwanted, embarrassing, and yet oddly exciting attention. The teenage years are also a time of self-evaluation, when one soon realizes that adulthood is just around the corner and all the power that it entails is not only exhilarating, but also terrifying.
For Cynthia, the teenage years represented all of this and more. But most importantly, for Cyn, it was a time when those naturally developing feelings came together and collided with the visual and tangible form of her hard and muscular older brother, Michael. Michael was no longer an ’emerging adult.’ He went through that awkward teenage stage a long time ago. He was 4 years older and at 22 he was also an endless resource of sexual fantasies for the walking teenage zit she currently was.
The fact that Michael worked out and kept himself in shape, a habit he got into during high school because he played every kind of sport available to him, helped, but it wasn’t what truly attracted Cynthia. Rather it was more his quiet strength that appealed; It was knowing that he would always be there to handle things whenever he was needed; It was also his confidence and the fact that he rarely felt the need to prove himself to anyone. He was just such a man. Now she wasn’t saying he was perfect, in fact he had a shit load of qualities that were fucked up, but overall he was a good person, and if nothing else, he was simply sexy as hell to Cyn. Intelligence mixed with confidence is alwayyyyyys sexy; at least, that was her opinion.
Michael had graduated college and lined up a decent job as a counselor/therapist for troubled youths at the local community center, Kids Town. It was a very large center within the heart of Chicago. He was planning on obtaining his masters in social work so he can practice psychology and help young adults deal with the heartache life has given them.
Throughout college, Mike lived with his girlfriend, Denise, but at the end of their academic career they decided to separate and end their relationship. He let her keep the apartment and moved back home until he found a new, affordable place closer to his job. He was only planning to stay a few weeks, but a few weeks was all it took for Cynthia’s whole world to change. Up until this point all she had was a crush, but by the time Michael moved out, she had an obsession.
The first catalyst in the change happened on a Friday evening. She was coming out of her bedroom and went straight to the bathroom. The closed door hardly registered in her brain. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to close a room door after leaving it, despite the fact it was no longer in use and almost every door in the house had a lock on it. Michael must have forgotten to lock it this particular time because she walked right in. A soft buzz floated through the air in a steady rhythm.
Her downcast eyes slowly traveled across the multicolored tile floor. They traveled up wet, hairy, muscular legs to thighs, to hips, hips, hips…. Her eyes paused there for a breathless second and she stood rigid with shock. She watched her brother carefully and slowly trim the hair surrounding his soft dick, which was resting quietly, as if sleeping in his hand, waiting to be awakened. Even in its relaxed state, his dick was several inches in length. She watched, awestricken, as the muscles in his arms flexed with the simplest of movements. His darken skin shined as moisture clanged to him, covering his body in a way that only filled her with envy.
His six-pack was taut and well defined; his nipples were actually rather large for a man and were surrounded with the hardness of his pectorals. His body was even more succulent than she could imagine. His face was intense with concentration; after all it was a very sensitive procedure he was embarking on. Soon the buzzing stopped and he placed the hair clippers on the sink’s edge and then reached for the disposal razor, for a close controlled shave. It was the soft rasping sound that made Cynthia moan. It was the moan that caused his head to jerk up in surprise. Shocked, his watched his baby sister eyes become entranced with his dick.
Her eyes were locked onto his body. Though it was a surprise, it wasn’t her presence that made him immovable with shock; it wasn’t even the curiosity that was expected from one of such a tender age. It was something far more startling and unaccounted for– it was lust. It was the desire in his baby sister’s eyes that turned him into stone. It was the shallowness eryaman escort of her breathing as she watched him, as if he was her favorite chocolate moose desert at the expensive French bakery at the corner. It was the way her left eyebrow arched with speculation, bringing forth sinful thoughts and naughty images of actions no 18-year-old child should be aware of. It was the way her tongue curled around the upper corner of her lip, as if the taste of him was just beyond her reach, waiting to be savored. It was the yearning, the want, the decadence of her stare that completely and utterly held him captive, too surprised to move, to talk, or to respond to on a cognitive level. However, even though his mind couldn’t actively acknowledge the silent messages this young girl was sending him, his body could. On an unconscious level, his body conceded and responded to the need clearly declared in the eyes of a woman.
She watched him as his flesh began to move, to change right in front of her eyes. She watched, as it hardened and moved like a serpent finding its way, to what, she didn’t know. She watched as he absentmindedly began to stoke himself with his thumb. It was then that she moved forward and with that movement she released him from his prison. She moved closer to him as he turned to face her, doing the same. Startled, she paused and watched as he continued forward—tall, strong, hard and erect. She watched as he came closer with each step. Seconds turned into hours as she waited for him. She lost herself in the intensity of his brown eyes; eyes that stared deeply into hers as if seeing into her soul; eyes that had one purpose in mind—her. A rush of warm wetness flooded her panties as his hands reached for her, gripping her shoulders. Firmly, yet gently, he pushed, and together they moved. His body was close. Inches separated them, as he got closer; mere inches that didn’t change as he simultaneously pushed her back. Away and away she went—until she was no longer in that small tiny space with him.
Now she was in the hallway. Alone. Silently, she watched. This time it was Michael doing the releasing. Dazed, she watched yet again, as he closed the bathroom door…
…directly in her face.
Hearing the lock click, she turned around and headed back in the direction from which she came. Closing her bedroom door, she dived head first onto the mattress. Burying her head into arms, she cried.
Michael leaned against the doorway of the bathroom and took a deep breath. His heart was beating so hard he thought it would break through his chest. His dick was harder than it had been in a long time. He still remembered in great detailed that look. For a second he forgot who he was and who she was in relation to him. Then he touched her and it all came back. He would like to think that he intended to push her away, but if he was honest with himself he had no idea what he was going to do as he started walking toward her. He could have just as easily pushed her up against the wall and took her, as he could have pushed her out the door. That was a hard reality that he didn’t want to think too much about. In fact it was a reality he rewrote in his mind to be fiction. A new reality took its place because the other possible scenario didn’t have a shot in hell of ever happening. One reason being she was his sister, someone he was suppose to protect whenever able. Second reason was he didn’t fuck children, despite the fact that they were build like grown-ass women.
He picked up the razor to continue what he started, but he was so hard he became afraid. Shaking, he took another deep breath and placed the razor down. Gripped his dick from the base, he began to stroke. He had a date tonight with a young woman named Janet, whom he met at the club last week. It was she whom he pictured with each stroke. It was her soft voluptuous curves he thought of and her high, tight, round ass. Her long and slender legs would wrap perfectly around his waist. It was she whom he pictured—she whom he imagined fucking, because anyone else just wasn’t an option.
The door slammed into the wall with extreme force. Their combined weight pushed upon the door as he buried his hands in her panties, squeezing and stroking along the way. Moaning, she rode him. Her pussy grinded against his bulge and her legs secured her around his waist. They shouldn’t be doing this, he thought. He tried to resist. God knows she wasn’t ready, but he couldn’t help it. She got to him. She actually got to him.
He fell to his knees and lifted her up, burying his face deep inside her pussy. Fuck it; he decided he would make her ready, despite everything in him that dictated this was wrong. Her thighs closed around his ears and her hips pumped as she rode his face, moving her pussy up and down, rubbing it against his nose, his lips, and his tongue. All movement on her part stopped when he began to suck. Freezing with sexual shock she stayed silent except for the harsh escort eryaman breathing that she couldn’t seem to control. He surrounded her clit, wrapping his tongue all around it, in sure, strong, strokes, bringing as much of it as possible out from its hooded home. He was strong, yet gentle because this was a very delicate procedure and he didn’t know how much she knew she could take.
But he seemed to apply just the right amount of pressure that had her both pulling him closer and leaning away in an effort to escape. Finally, she took control of the situation and began to ride him. Her slow and steady bouncing on his lips gradually increased in tempo as he sucked on her clit. Up and up and up she bounced on his face, her hands buried in his hair as she pulled him closer while tilting backwards to rest on the wall. The angle allowed her to push her pussy hole right up against his chin. The well-groomed hairs from his goatee added the right amount of friction against the oozing hole. Her pussy lips wrapped around his chin in a hug and then glided against his face. Up and up she bounced.
“MichaelMichaelMichael MichaelMichaelMichaelMichael,” she chanted over and over as she rode herself to climax.
His neck began to ache from the pressure she was placing on his body, but he held on for the ride. Besides, he knew she was close.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Ohhh yes,” she chanted right before she froze… and fell! He felt the stiffness leave her body, as she became the equivalent of jello. Rising, he eased her legs from his shoulders and moved them to his waist. He juggled her up into his arms and embraced her. Carrying her to the sofa bed he kissed her deeply as she slowly recovered. He found his wallet and located the condom inserted in the back fold. Rolling it on, he crouched above her, raising and parting her legs. Her lips opened in a soft moan as she felt his attempt at entry. Then hers eyes opened with shock as she realized she wasn’t as prepared as she thought. He felt huge to her slender opening. She didn’t expect it to hurt.
Their eyes locked. He said, “I would have waited, if you gave me a chance. I would have made you ready, but I can’t wait. I need you now. You made sure of that.” And despite the protest he saw about to rise from her lips, he kissed her—softly, deeply, and tenderly. She relaxed as she gave in. Slowly he pushed and slowly he withdrew. In and out. Out and in. He worked his dick into the inner camber of her pussy, going a little deeper with each push. Her little moans of dismay became moans of enjoyment.
In and out, out and in, he stoked her pussy and the fire between them grew. Touching her nowhere else other than the arms she wrapped around his neck, he became an extension of her. She loved the feeling—the feeling of nothing but his dick on and in her body. She loved it so much that she released him and spread her arms and legs wider to limit the possibility of contact, altogether. He became nothing more than a dick, a dick made to fuck her. Her dick.
“Fuck my pussy. Fuck my pussy…” she began a new chant. Lost in the haze of moment. He moved, constant, and steady. His muscles tensed as he fought for control. An outbreak of sweat covered his body.
He fucked her.
He obeyed her chanting command. In and out. Out and in. Her pussy became a wet gloved that opened up enough to let him in but not a millimeter of space separated his cock from her pussy, her body.
He fucked her.
He fucked hard and steady until the consistency of hitting that one spot over and over in her pussy lead to a building of sensation. He watched as she moved beneath him in the way she never moved before, she was close. He leaned in closer, almost covering her, using his thighs to hitch her thighs higher as he drove deeper inside her puss.
He fucked her.
Her moans became louder as she lost herself in the flow. The tempo increased with the volume as the sensation rumbled inside of her. Soon she was squealing as she rocked up against him, meeting this plunge.
He fucked her.
Skin collided against skin and sticky wetness made a violent sound as he fought for air. He couldn’t breathe, she was so tight, her pussy so strong. He was weak. He was weak, but still he fought and still she pushed.
He fucked her.
She lost control. She couldn’t stop it anymore. She didn’t want to. She screamed. So big, so big, she thought. Deeper and deeper. Harder and stronger. She screamed. She cried. She came and still…
He fucked her.
He fucked her passed her orgasm. He fucked her, lost in the moment. He fucked her and fucked her until he felt her body respond again. It was happening, her second wave. Her horse scream filled the air again as she lay there exhausted, cumming around his cock, powerless to stop him.
He fucked her.
He fucked her until he came.
And when he did, it was with a violent expulsion of air from his lungs as he slammed into her one last time. eryaman escort bayan All his strength, all his stamina was gone and slowly– slowly he fell asleep buried between her thighs. His dick soften side her. The flow of his cum bathed his deflating penis in warmth– a warmth that slowly flowed to exit her flesh.
He really should have waited. That was his final thought as he felt time slipping away. Never fuck on the first date. Wait at least a week. A bitch might be psycho and won’t know how to let a man go. A week is good enough time to try and figure that out.
With one last ditch effort he pushed inside her again. “Janet,” he said as he joined her in sleep.
“Michael.” she panted as she watched.
Her hands were buried in her soft, untried flesh. She came at least three times watching them. Her older brother, the walking wet dream, had brought that woman home. She was pretty. Cyn saw why he was attracted her. They had no idea that from the moment they pulled into the driveway beside the house, under Cyn’s window that, that she was aware of their every move. She heard them moving to the garage. The garage was where Michael lived while he stayed with them. Her parents converted it into a den long ago with a sofa bed. Michael preferred it now so he could come and go with ease. The huge garage windows donned curtains to prevent exposure, but there was a small opening between the overlapping fabrics that allowed her to peer in. With one hand wrapped around her aching breast, she used her other to stroke her clit as she watched him sucking that woman’s pussy.
“Ooooooh,” she moaned.
She so wished it was her. She humped her pussy into her hand. Wishing, as she watched.
“Michael,” She cried.
She came as she watched him put on the condom. Her eyes, memorized with his length, his strength. He was sooo big. So perfect. She loved it.
She watched as he fucked her. The emotions in her heart threatened to overwhelm her. She didn’t know what to think. She knew her feelings were wrong, but she couldn’t help it. Hell the fact that she wasn’t supposed to want to fuck her brother made it even more seductive.
Leaning over slightly, she raised her left breast to her lips and lashed onto the nipple. A trick she discovered just recently. It helped her cum harder. She did it now and exploded again. The final cum happened as she watched him find his peak. It was so beautiful that her body’s reaction was instantaneous. She had to fuck him. She just didn’t know how.
She waited ten minutes before she left, watching as they fell asleep. She treaded upstairs, tired. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
The next morning Michael escorted his date back home. When he returned to his garage apartment he noticed a small, shiny object by the automatic garage door. Bending low he recognized his sister’s cell phone. Picking it up he looked up and looked through the curtained, glass windows. Leaning forward he realized that the drapes were not completely pulled together and if one wanted one would have a slightly obstructed yet detailed view of his sofa bed. The same sofa bed he fucked Janet on last night.
His heart leaped in his chest as the thoughts in his head began to form a pattern. Is it possible she saw them last night? Is that why her phone was dropped in this very spot? Looking around further he studied the area where he located the phone. Below the window, several inches down, he saw a handprint. He didn’t know if it was sweat or oil that made it visible, but he did know it was a small hand, about the size of a child or a young woman. In his mind those thoughts transformed themselves into possible images. Images of Cyn squatting low, with her thighs spread wide to either side of her hips and her pants around her ankles. Images of a hot sweaty hand slammed against a garage door for balance as the other hand disappeared into the wet heat of a young innocent pussy. Images of her watching as her big brother fucked a woman he barely knew. Slipping the phone into his right jean pocket he went inside to shower and change.
Thirty minutes later he walked into the main house through the connecting door and followed the aroma of freshly cooked bacon and browning biscuits. Greeting him was the typical yet untraditional family scene. His sister sat in her favorite spot watching her Saturday morning cartoons, an enjoyment she has yet to grow out of and to be honest neither has he. He loved Jackie Chan, the cartoon series. Beside her to her left was his mother, in her terrycloth robe, staring intensely at the financial section of the New York Times. His dad was bending over the stove, taking out a pan filled with Pillsbury grand biscuits.
By the look of things, the head chef of the household created an early breakfast of various omelets, from meat, to veggie, to cheese, sausage links, bacon, hash browns, grits, fried green tomatoes, and a stack of mini pancakes. While they didn’t appear to be able too, Michael’s mother and his baby sister can pack away some food. If there was an eating contest with his mom and little sister on one side and the entire defensive line of his old college football team on the other, there would be no doubt in his mind the two women would win by a landslide.