The summer passed. Sara cried for a week, but like all 19 year olds the things that seemed like the end of the world were pretty much forgotten in a week. By the time school started again she was herself, although she did cringe if her step-brother’s name was mentioned. David lounged around the city for the rest of the summer thinking, writing and studying. Sara was going off to college in September and he likely wouldn’t see her again until some Christmas or wedding.
As for the stories, David wrote a few but didn’t post any. He made a conscious decision not to look on the newsgroups, not to look for her. That lasted about a month and then he gave in. “BeatDownLove” he typed in the search box and then just stared for a while before pressing the return key and wincing.
There were about eight stories, many of which were commented on heavily. He noticed “The Wrestling Match” was not among them. In fact none of them seemed to be about a step-brother and step-sister. He looked at the codes next to each story and saw “Mf, MF, ff, MM, MMf”… no “inc” which stood for incest. He though that he should have felt relieved, but he didn’t.
He read through the first one. It was about a sad girl who broke up with her boyfriend and found solace in her girlfriend’s arms. The next one was about a teacher who seduces his student; this one was playful and light. The next was about a girl who constantly hung out with her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend and eventually the three of them get into a three way.
Every story was interesting. He was a little aroused, but more curious. Each story was a little conversation with his step-sister. Each story revealed a little more of her kinks and her humor and her self. It was strange reading like this, because he had followed many writers works on these newsgroups but never really knew any of them personally, at least not before he read their stories. He took every story apart and analyzed them. He noticed themes that were present in almost every story. The girls were never “perfect” like in many other people’s stories. They were never skinny with 34 DD breasts and long blond hair. They looked like Sara or maybe one of Sara’s friends. The boys tended to be nerdy and intellectual. Then there was the “held down by her wrists” scene, which was in every story. All of her stories had one character that got off by being held down, wrestled to the ground and overpowered just like in the wrestling story.
After he read the first few he felt better. He didn’t feel guilty like before because the stories seemed healthier somehow, like maybe she had gotten over this fixation she had with him and his writing. The thought made him happy but also struck a chord of jealousy somewhere deep in him. Would he ever get over the fixation that he had acquired for her?
And then there was that one story. There were no tags about it being anything special, but then he noticed the names: Danny and Sophie. Danny was the name of the character in her Wrestling story and Sophia was Sara’s middle name.
In His Room
by BeatDownLove (MF)
Note: Sorry that this is just a fragment, but I need to write this scene. I think everyone has a certain scene in their head that gets them off. When you can’t sleep and your hands creep under the sheets and you close your eyes and find that thing that makes you come.
I came into Danny’s room because the thunder and the rain was pounding outside. I came into his room because it was a hot summer storm and I was antsy and worked up, like a cat in heat. I came into his room for a hundred bad reasons and when he saw me standing in the door he knew what they were.
It was late and all I was wearing was a long shirt and panties. All he was wearing was a pair of boxers. It was at least 90 in the room and outside the rain pounded on the window. He was half reading a book and half fanning himself with it. I walked over to his bed and he just stared at me shaking his head.
“Go to bed, Sophie.”
I just smiled and leaned on knee on his bed. “Can’t sleep,” I said, slipping onto the bed, kneeling on his sheet and looking down at him. He swallowed, all at once he look worried, turned on and annoyed.
“What do you think you’re doing Soph?” he sat up, and I kissed him on his lips. He was unshaven and as he pushed me away his stubble rubbed roughly across my lips.
He moved away. I pulled off my shirt with one quick motion. He went to grab my shirt, but I pushed away his arm and kissed his neck. He pushed me away, but I came back pressing my breasts against his naked chest.
“Sophie we can’t…” but I kissed him again and this time he took longer to push me away. I pushed him and he was on his back and then I was on top of him.
“We are doing this.” I said into his neck as I kissed and bit at his skin. He tried to push me away again, but I kept coming back and kissing him. As we moved I felt him hard against my leg and I smiled. I was going to win.
I slid down his body and before he could push me off I was level with his crotch and his cock was slipping out of the hole in his boxers and my mouth was on him. He groaned so loudly I got scared, but then I felt his hands weakening on me. I sucked him deep. My tongue on his shaft, his head slipping over my lips and the taste of him, the delicious taste of him.
I got to suck him for almost two minutes before he came to his senses and pushed me away.
“We can’t do this Soph, go to fucking bed!” He grabbed my wrists and pulled me up until we were both kneeling on the bed. He was squeezing my wrists so hard I knew I would have bruises, but I leaning into him and his cock which was still sticking out rubbed against my inner thigh.
“I’m not leaving until you fuck me.” I whispered, closing my legs so that his cock was between them.
He shook me by my wrists. “No! We can’t do this!” but my lips were on his again and he didn’t push me away, he only held fast to my wrists. I leaned back now, his grip on my wrists pulling him forward until I was laying on my back and he was on top of my pushing my arms into the bed. And his cock was against me and he was growling “No” into my ear but he was still pushing against me.
I spread my legs wide and he pressed his cock against me. The only thing between us was my wet panties, but I moved from side to side just enough that soon his cock head was rubbing against my wetness. He was fever hot and his eyes were wild. My hands felt cold from lack of circulation, and all I could think of was his cock inside me. It was so close, but he kept rubbing, my panties kept moving to the side, he never pushing in enough… but then it happened.
I let out a sharp yelp and he grunted loudly and then he was inside me. He froze, his cock half in and his face went pale. “We… can’t…” he started, but my hips pushed against him and he was inside me all the way. Danny was inside of me.
I had to keep pushing back and forth until he couldn’t take it and had to start fucking me for real. He kissed me hard, finally. Every time he pushing into me my mind when numb and every time he pulled out I ached for him. I felt his hands shaking and his body tightening and I new he would come soon. I spread my legs out more and his next thrust went another half an inch in and my back arched. I wrapped my legs around him as he sped up. His hands slipped of my wrists and I quickly wrapped my arms around his chest.
When he was almost there I saw him panic, he tried to pull away, but I tightened my arms and my legs around him and bucked my hips and came hard as I felt him shooting hot inside of me.
He collapsed on top of me as I shook and melted in his arms.
And he was mine.
The first image David could imagine was the scene of the story. His room, his step-sister, their bodies together. Then the image of her writing the story came into his mind, legs clamped together tightly as she bit her lip and typed furious. Then the image that brought him over the edge was his step-sister laying in bed thinking about this scene, thinking about him, and getting herself off with her hand between her thighs whispering his name into her pillow.
Before he knew what he was doing he was hitting “reply” and typing. It asked him to log in, but he didn’t want to let her know it was him so he created a new name right there. He filled out fake info for everything and for the username he though for a minute and just wrote “unlucky”.
re: In His Room
We all have fantasies like that, the ones that are our staple and can always push us over the edge. I think this little scene is perfect. I love the way you write and I can’t wait for your next story.
I’m just wondering why he is so against having sex with her? I know it is just a fantasy, but is there something I missing in all of this?
email me if you want to discuss it or anything else.
Nothing came back for a few days. He checked the new email address religiously, even pinging it in the middle of classes on his Blackberry. After the fourth day he finally got something.
re: In His Room
It’s a long story. I try to stay away from certain topics in my writing, but this is an especially dirty fantasy I have thought about for a while. He’s her step-brother. Sorry if that squicks you, didn’t mean to ruin your enjoyment.
re: In His Room
On the contrary, that kind of fantasy can be very interesting to explore. I’ve written about it. I’d love to see what else you could come up with on that topic.
re: In His Room
I don’t write about that much anymore. I’m trying to focus on other things, but I wouldn’t mind reading any of yours. I haven’t seen any posted, are they under a different name?
David wanted to give her a story, but he knew she would recognize his writing. He tried to think of a persona to write in and came up with some characteristics he could play with. He would make the narrator southern and he wouldn’t make the step-brother and step-sister’s ages so far apart. He tried to stay away from his usual stylistic affectations, like short sentences and a lot of ellipses. He would make it long and drawn out. He tried to think like Tennessee Williams. And he’d use the word “pussy” a word he had never used in any story.
Note: Just something I thought up for you.
“The Summer Dress”
It started that summer with the dress. She always wore this old hand-me-down summer dress their grandmother had given her on the hottest days when they couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything but lounge around the house like cats. That’s when he started noticing her for the first time. She was his little cousin after all and you don’t ever look at your little cousin that way, but in the last few years since she graduated high school she’d filled out and it was getting harder and harder not to notice what that little hand-me-down summer dress did to her new curves and how it only seemed to get smaller and smaller.
Mother hated the dress. “Now Sally dear, we are not poor, you have plenty of nice clothes, why do you insist on wearing that God-awful threadbare rag?” but she persisted. It wasn’t very long, coming down to a few inches above her knee. It was a light grayish blue, but it was probably vivid baby blue at one time, and it had little patterns of blue lovebirds all over it and it was torn at the seams and had little moth eaten holes in it. There were mismatched buttons all down the front and the two last ones were missing. It wasn’t like her, but she only wore it on the hottest days and only inside so no one made her change. We would spend time in the little covered porch in the back of the house laying around, lazy in the summer heat. I was reading a book and watching her over the tip of it. She was looking out at the sky through the big mesh covered windows. She laid on a big wicker chair sideways so on leg was leaning over one armrest and her head was leaning on the other. her other leg hung down lazily rocking. Her dress rode up when she sat like that, clean up to her thigh and it pulled the front of her dress against her chest. She didn’t have much up front, but without a bra and with the tightness of the fabric because of the way she was sitting I could see the outline of her breasts perfectly.
I got up, pretending to stretch my legs and walked over to her. She didn’t even look over at me. I didn’t know what she would do, because I’d never done anything like it before, but I just picked up her dress and pulled up up a few more inches then it had already been ridden up. This made it so I could see her cotton underwear and the soft perfection of her thighs.
Her head whipped around and she looked at me in shock. I thought she was going to kick me, but she just sat there looking at me in stunned silence.
I kneeled down and put my hand on her leg, felling her skin which was wet with perspiration. She just stared at me, not stopping me, but not doing anything to encourage me. I rubbed my thumb up and down the inside of her thigh stopping just at the elastic in the leg of her underwear. She turned and looked back out the window and let out a few shuddering sighs and I explored her skin.
I slipped one finger under her panties and her breath caught. The heat and the sweat and the smell of her wetness was filling every breath. I pulled the panties to the side and saw her light patch of hair and the pink lips of her pussy open and wet and the little nub of her clit. I moved in and licked. There was no preparation for this all, no seduction, but it seemed so perfect to do right then. I licked it and rubbed my bottom lip against her and kissed and sucked.
I loved the taste of her, all salty and new, but more than that I loved the sounds she made. She wasn’t shy as I licked her breath caught and she moaned and let out little fragments of words “Fuck” and “God” and all those other things she’d be spanked for saying at the dinner table.
I moved one hand from her thigh and slipped my fingertip around the wet hole of her pussy. I pushed it in a little once it was wet and she let out a higher pitched moan. I slipped it in farther and she sat up suddenly, pulling my head back by the hair and kissing me hard on the lips. Her kisses were fierce, biting and sucking my lips. Then her hands were on my pants, unbuttoning them quickly and pulling them down.
She sat back in the chair and put her legs up on the armrests. I positioned myself in front of her, my cock hard and throbbing and wet with pre-come.
And then from behind me I heard the door swing shut behind me and a familiar voice scream “What EVER is going on here!”
David smiled and laughed. He imagined her sitting there reading it, slowly getting into the story, squirming under his words and then at the end huffing and pouting at the abrupt ending.
He read over it quickly for any identifying characteristics and when he was sure he was safe he sent it to her.
re: You are Mean
Mean! If you were nice and finished it, maybe I would have told you some interesting things about what I was doing while I was reading your story. Now you just get a pout and scowl.
It went on like this for a while. David wrote her little bits and pieces of stories and she wrote back. David wanted her more with every note, but as the weeks went by and it got closer to Christmas the dread started closing in. He would have to face her. He would have to pretend like this correspondence wasn’t happening.
He was addicted to the emails, though. He was addicted to her. It was only a matter of time before he slipped up.
re: After School
When I get home I usually go into my room, check my mail and check the newsgroups. If there is anything of interest in either I will take an old t-shirt and put it down on my chair, slip off my panties (I usually wear skirts these days) and read.
If it is one of your stories… like let’s say the one about the father catching the daughter masturbating then I hook my legs up over the sides of my chair and pull my skirt up as I read. I like to touch and tease my thighs and breasts with little touches. I have pretty good self control until the story gets going, then I lick my fingers and get to work. I make circles around my clit, it gets very sensitive so I usually don’t touch it directly that much. I am pretty good about being able to time my orgasms, waiting until the girl in the story is about to come and then I start breathing in that certain way and rubbing my clit and just letting my finger slip into my pussy a little. And when I come I like to push two finger in and rub my clit fast. And I get so wet I make a big wet spot on the shirt I laid down.
Just like now.
My pussy is very pink. I’ve looked at it a lot in the mirror. You could say I’m kind of fascinated by it. It’s pink and very soft and the outside lips are kind of fat. I like to spank it a little. It has very soft and very light brown hair. I think you’d like it.
In fact, since I had a very nice day and since I liked your stories very much… I think I am going to take a picture of it for you.
Attached was a pretty clear picture of his step-sister from the shoulders down sitting in her computer chair. She was wearing a white button up shirt that was open to show her bra covered breasts. She also had a black skirt which was puled up to her stomach, displaying in perfect pink pixels his step-sister’s sex.
David just sat there in stunned silence looking at the picture with his mouth open. He couldn’t believe it. His mind couldn’t grasp what he was looking at. This was his little step-sister. More then any story or email or even awkward conversation, this pushed every button in his brain, making him nearly come in his pants just looking at it.
The reply came quickly, though David wasn’t even conscious of what made him write it. He couldn’t think, he was too turned on.
re: The picture
Is that your brother’s t-shirt?
No reply that day or the next. Waiting and wondering David found himself looking at the picture over and over again. He zoomed in until it was only boxy pixels trying to see more of it. He needed more.
When the reply finally came, the wave of guilt and fear came with it.
re: The picture
I never said I had a brother.
David fumbled for a reply. Was she guessing who he was?
re: The picture
I was guessing. Do you? Sorry if that isn’t an appropriate question.
Your picture… wow. Your picture is probably the hottest thing I have ever seen. I’d like to seem cool and not make a big deal of it, but damn. I’d do anything to see another one of those.
There was another long stretch of days without a response.
re: The picture
I probably shouldn’t take anymore pictures. I got carried away.
I have finals this week, so I probably won’t be on for a while.
I am attaching a few more pictures, against my better judgement. These are the last pictures I am sending, so please don’t ask for more.
See you around.
PS I have a step-brother and yeah, it was his shirt.
The first picture was of Sara standing but bent over her chair facing away from the camera, her round ass exposed and between her legs just the slightest shadow of her sex. Her skirt was still on but pulled up and her shirt was off. She was looking over her shoulder at the camera with a wicked little grin on her face. The second picture was of her laying on her bed, naked except for her bunched up skirt and the knee high rainbow socks David remembered seeing her in so many times. Her legs spread, her breasts squished together by her hungry hands. The last picture was of her face. She was biting her bottom lip and her eyes looked full of pained hunger. She looked like she was coming.
He didn’t hear from her again online. He sent a few hellos, but there were never any replies. Before David knew it the year was over and it was time for Christmas. He ended up making an excuse not to go back home for the holidays. One excuse lead to another and before he knew it he was wrapped up in life in New York.
He kept in touch with his sister through email, but they never wrote about stories. In time she got wrapped up in college and an internship and it looked like his little step-sister was really growing up. David wondered if the flirtation was just a phase. David wondered if that was for the best.paypal.me/writingdirty