As I’m walking down the hall, Brooke’s door flies open and she rushes past me, bumping into my shoulder on the way. She spins around and holds up one finger. “Be right back.” She whips around before I even have a chance to ask what that was all about.
I go into her room and stand there right in the middle of her floor, feeling a bit awkward. When I hear her bare feet pad back in, she’s holding a long stemmed Bic lighter and a–citronella candle? What–she pull that out of the camping gear in the garage? I think so.
Brook doesn’t mind me; she’s concentrating wholly on lighting the candle. Flick, flick, flick. Her tongue curls over her upper lip, and her eyes bug out in concentration, like it’s a holy artifact rather than a Walmart mosquito repellant.
“Yes.” There’s a pop-sizzle as the wax burns off the wicks and she gets them to light. Brooke pumps her elbow and beams, presenting me with the now lit candle.
I purse my lips together, confused but not super intrigued. “That’s great.”
All three wicks dance together, letting off gray wisps of citrusy smoke with a pencil thin tendril of soot framing in the burnings. She sets the candle right on the nightstand, then spins around and takes off down the hall again. I wait, mildly curious now that I can see how excited she is about something. After what feels like an unreasonable amount of time to leave me hanging, Brooke comes back into the room hugging two bottles, a towel, and a rag into her chest.
She kicks the door shut again, not bothering with the lock.
Then Brooke lays the bottles out on the nightstand next to the burning candle. She flips out the towel and lays it over the edge of the bed. Her back is turned to me, but I see her hands reach around and without a shred of fanfare, unclasp her bra and drop it to the floor.
Huh?
Her bare shoulder blades poke back as my sister hooks her thumbs into her waistband and drops both her shorts and her panties down to the floor in one go. Her bare bubble butt wiggles and bounces as she steps out of her clothes and kicks them off to the corner of the room, just like all of this is the most normal thing in the world.
Brooke turns around to face me, and hops up onto the bed, right onto the towel she’d just laid down.
She leans back, kicks her bare feet up idly into the air, perhaps something like a siren lazing on a rock. Behind her, the morning sun glares through the window framing in her bed, and the light diffuses into her frazzled strands of hair. Her eyes are still underlined with bags, yes, but now they have a sparkle of life, too. It’s funny; seeing that spark now, I just realized how much of her was truly missing before. I think she’s come to some kind of a resolve; something’s changed here.
Brooke–pale toned stomach, faint ripples of abs. Long legs, fat thigh muscles, calves tanned, panty lines above. Modest chest, a triangle of pasty flesh over her fat nipples–I guess from her bikini covering.
When she sees me staring just absolutely slack jawed, she grins like a brat. The balls of her feet scratch up her shins. As she does that, her eyebrows jump with a flicker of shock. She leans over and runs her hand up and down her calves and thighs.
Ah, I see. Her legs are studded with long black hairs, which is kind of weird to see on a girl. I guess because I’m not used to it.
My sister peeks up with a nervous smile. “Sorry. I’ve kind of let myself go here lately. It’s not…this isn’t what normal would be, just to let you know.”
My gaze wanders up her hair studded legs, between her thighs–a tuft of bush peeking out, on up over her smooth stomach, over the perky swells of her breasts–engorged nipples, then there’s the soft nape of her neck, that heart shaped jawline, and finally I settle on her eyes. “There’s not a part of you that I’d think was dirty, Brooke.”
A wicked grin curls up her cheeks. “We’ll see about that…”
My sister lifts her knees into the air, and parts them along the edge of the bed, her body all bunched up in a delicious ‘M’ shape. Her calves become pillars framing in her sex.
Her long fingers reach down and spread the sinewy cheeks of her ass wide open, exposing her puckered little butthole. A little higher up, her fat ruffled labia hacks a trail through her now thick and wiry pubes, my sister’s carpet of bush–and yet, that hair somehow appears as inviting as black down.
She arches her back, puffing out her modest chest. My eyes follow the creases of her ribs and the prominent bone structure caging her chest in. It leads my sight to the fatty swell of her breasts. I stare at her palm sized areolas and nipples so long and erect, it’s like they’re flags staked to the top of those hills.
I swear, I’m drooling. I take a step toward her.
“Wait,” she holds up a hand, “just look.”
I scratch my wrist. “Is this like a power thing?”
Brooke rolls her eyes. “No, stupid. Remember what Sophie said?” Brooke’s voice shifts high pitched and borderline whiny–I guess trying to imitate Sophie’s little voice. “That’s all I got. Everything I got to show, Mason.”
She sighs. “Well, this is what I got. Pimple tits, knobby knees, and a greasy bush.”
Ah, I see what she’s doing now. I slide off my shirt and drop my own shorts just as unceremoniously she did her own. Just to tease her, I squeeze my ample pecs. “Well, then do more cable flys, Sis.”
She huffs. “They’re perky enough.” Brooke squeezes her breasts and flicks her long fat nipple. “Just, I got pepperoni nipples.”
Instead of arguing, I walk right up to her, right between her spread. The heat radiating off of her sex is insane. My sister is hot! Christ, I swear the humidity’s up to near full saturation in the swamp between her legs. I smell her damp musk as well as–and I chuckle a bit–the citrus spice of the citronella candle that she lit for some reason. Though, now I kind of think it’s her way of masking the smell of sex.
I roll out my cock, flop it onto the bed. “Can we throw an impotent weiner into the mix?”
“Impotent?” Sis’s smile is devious. “I’ve been putting a lot of thought into that.”
“Into my weiner?”
She nods. “A lot.” Seeing my reaction, she bites her tongue, and adds in. “But not as much as I’ve been thinking about who that weiner is attached to.”
Her hand glides over mine and pats it reassuringly. “Just watch.” She rolls over and grabs one of the bottles off the nightstand. “Give me your palm.” She instructs.
I do. There’s a wet squirt as she shoots a dollop of clear greasy liquid–oh, that’s lube–into my hand. I hold it there, unsure what to do, although I do have plenty of ideas. Then she squirts a dollop onto her own palm.
It’s kind of a weird position to be in right now. Sis is spread in front of me, sitting up with her knees scrunched into her chest, spread so wide that she’s essentially straddling my waist. And I’m in front of her with my cock rolled out on the mattress, holding a shiny patch of lube in my palm, confused as a dweeb.
“Let me tell you a secret, Mason,” Brooke says, oddly serious. “I am so fucking sick of penis-through-the-pajama-bottoms, under-the-covers, missionary-in-the-dark sex.”
She glides her palm down her stomach and through her thick bush. A slime trail of lube glistens in her wake. I’m expecting her to start smearing it around her clit or something, but no, Brooke slides her hand farther down between her thighs. Her middle finger grazes her butthole, and she presses it in like an elastic little button.
And then, she begins to knead that lube into her nether-flesh. Completely ignoring her pussy, she massages her asshole with her palm, gripping and pushing and spreading and prying and poking.
Her chest shudders in spastic breaths. Her face is flush with pure embarrassment and…something more. Stronger, harder she kneads her ass. Her mouth opens. Her tongue rolls across her teeth. Underneath the long awning of her eyelashes, her eyes peek up at me–dirty Bambi, studying my reaction. There’s an electric excitement about her. It’s like she’s revving some internal demon up into a fervor.
Sis smiles at me, wicked. “I’m a nasty bitch, Mason. That’s not something that’s going to change. Really consider that. Is this what you want?”
Her pointer and ring finger make a ‘V’ and spread her asshole between them. She curls her middle finger in and jams it inside her open cave, presses it clear on down to her second knuckle despite the sharp protests from her body. Brooke pulls it out and raises her hand to her face, but this time, I do see a shred of hesitation about her, as if she’s about ready to cross over a line that she can’t take back, something beyond normal. But she shakes her head and grazes her middle finger, the one that was just prodding her asshole, across her lips. She laps out her tongue and sucks her finger into her mouth. Puckered cheeks. It pops out with a wet smack.
“See?” Brooke says in an I-told-you-so voice. “Nasty bitch. Is that really what you wan–Wait!”
Before I let myself think about what I’m doing, I grab her wrist and shove her finger into my mouth. I suck it clean just like she did.
There’s an alarmed smirk on her face–if that’s even a thing. She whispers, “You didn’t…”
I kiss the tip of her finger and let go of her wrist.
My palmful of lube is still outstretched. She takes her fingertips and smears the lube outward, lathering it between my fingers. When she’s satisfied, she guides my hand down between legs. Her fingers lace through mine, and as she draws us closer to her asshole. I feel the sweltering pucker of her back door, just drenched in lube.
Her flesh is so elastic. It has so much give. Brooke pushes my fat middle finger into her hole. Blazing hot walls envelop it, but she’s not satisfied with just that.
No. My sister’s a nasty bitch. She said so herself.
Her own middle finger follows mine in. Both of us are masturbating her ass at the same time. She doesn’t even pause to let herself adjust. Brooke just shoves our fingers inside herself. I can feel her rectum clench, and her little bottom shifts uncomfortably, maybe even painfully, but that just seems to ignite her fervor.
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