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The morning after the party, I woke up on my sister's couch with a splitting headache and a stomach full of regret. But it wasn't the alcohol that made me feel sick. It was the memory of her body against mine. The way her ass felt pressed against my cock. The way she moaned when I slipped inside her. The way she screamed for me to fuck her harder, deeper, without caring that I was her brother. I sat up too fast and the room spun. My boxers were still damp with sweat and cum, and I could smell her on my skin. Donna. My sister. The woman who had been married three times in five years. The woman I had watched fuck her boyfriends when we were teenagers. The woman whose pussy had wrapped around my cock like it was made for me. "Stop it," I whispered to myself, pressing my palms against my eyes. "Stop thinking about it." But I couldn't stop. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her naked body covered in sweat. Her huge breasts swinging as she climbed out of that torn costume. The way she crawled on top of me and kissed me like I was her lover, not her little brother. I heard footsteps and looked up. Donna stood in the doorway, wrapped in a thin robe that barely covered her thighs. Her hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked as wrecked as I felt. "You're awake," she said softly. "Barely." She sat down on the other end of the couch, keeping distance between us. The robe fell open just slightly, and I caught a glimpse of her bare thigh. I forced myself to look away. "We need to talk about what happened," she said. "There's nothing to talk about. It was an accident." "Was it?" I looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?" She took a deep breath, and I watched her hands shake as she wrapped them around her knees. "I've been thinking about this all night. About what happened. About how it felt." "Donna, don't—" "Let me finish." Her voice cracked. "I know it was wrong. I know you're my brother. But I can't pretend that I didn't want it. That I haven't thought about it before." My heart stopped. "What?" She looked at me, and there were tears in her eyes. "When we were teenagers, I used to tease you on purpose. I would have sex with my boyfriends when I knew you were home because I wanted you to hear. I wanted you to imagine it was you." I couldn't breathe. "I know that makes me sick," she continued, her voice breaking. "But I can't help how I feel. And last night, when I felt your cock inside me... I didn't want it to stop. I wanted more." She started crying, holding her head in her hands. "Please don't hate me." I sat there, stunned. My sister had been fantasizing about me for years. She had wanted this just as much as I had. I reached out and put my hand on her cheek. She looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen. "I don't hate you," I said softly. "I can't stop thinking about it either." She stared at me for a long moment, and then she leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't a sister kiss. It was the kiss of a woman who wanted to be fucked again. Chapter 2 The kiss lasted only a few seconds before I pulled away. "We can't," I said, my voice hoarse. "You're my sister." "I know." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know we can't. But I needed you to know how I felt." I stood up, my legs still shaky. "I need to go home." "Stay for breakfast. Please. I don't want things to be weird between us." I wanted to leave. I wanted to run as far away from her as possible. But I also wanted to stay. I wanted to pull that robe off her body and fuck her again until we both forgot what was right and wrong. "Fine," I said. "Breakfast." She smiled, and it was the same smile she had given me when we were kids. The smile that said she had won. I followed her into the kitchen and watched as she moved around, gathering ingredients. The robe swayed with every step, and I caught glimpses of her bare ass whenever she bent over to open the refrigerator. "So," she said, cracking eggs into a bowl, "how is Susan?" My wife. The woman I had promised to love and cherish for the rest of my life. The woman who had spent the night taking care of her sick sister while I was busy fucking mine. "She's fine," I said. "She came home this morning." "Did you tell her about the party?" "I told her I drank too much." Donna laughed. "That's not a lie." I watched her whisk the eggs, her hands moving with practiced ease. She had always been good at this. Good at pretending everything was fine when it wasn't. "The costume is ruined," she said. "I had to throw it away." "Good." "I already ordered a new one." I looked at her sharply. "Why?" She turned to face me, and there was something dangerous in her eyes. "Because I want to do it again." "Donna—" "Don't pretend you don't want the same thing." She stepped closer, and I could smell her perfume mixed with the scent of eggs and coffee. "I felt your cock twitch inside me. I felt you cum. You wanted it just as much as I did." My hands were shaking. "It was wrong." "I know." She reached out and touched my chest, her fingers tracing a path down my stomach. "But I don't care." I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. "We can't." "Why not?" "Because I'm married. Because you're my sister. Because—" She kissed me again, and this time I didn't pull away. Her mouth was soft and demanding, and I could taste the salt of her tears mixed with the bitterness of coffee. Her tongue pushed against mine, and I felt my body betray me. My cock hardened, pressing against my jeans. She pulled back, breathing hard. "Breakfast can wait." She took my hand and led me back to her bedroom. The costume was still on the floor, torn and stained. She pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me, her robe falling open to reveal her naked body. "Donna, we can't do this—" "Shut up," she said, and she kissed me again. I wanted to stop her. I wanted to be a good husband, a good brother, a good man. But the moment she wrapped her hand around my cock, all my good intentions disappeared. She guided me inside her, and I let out a moan as her warm wetness enveloped me. She started to ride me, slow at first, then faster, her breasts bouncing with every movement. "Fuck," I groaned, gripping her hips. "Yes," she whispered. "Fuck me, little brother. Fuck me like you mean it." 💗💗 Click to Read on👉👉

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