The living room reeked of stale cigarette smoke and cheap vodka, a chemical cocktail that clung to the air like a shroud. It was past three in the morning, the kind of hour where the world outside faded into an irrelevant hum, leaving only the immediate, grimy reality. Out the window, the dull glow from the streetlights filtered through the grime, casting a sickly yellow pallor over our faces. Jamie, Adam, and I had been working on a bottle of Skol vodka since eight, mixed with flat soda that tasted more like syrup than fizz. One bottle had become two, then a third, and the weed had been passed around so many times I’d lost count.
We’d started the evening innocently enough, or what passed for innocent with us. Popped in the Clerks VHS, watched Randal and Dante complain about life, quoting lines we already knew by heart. But the movie had long since become background noise, replaced by increasingly slurred conversation, bad jokes, and even worse singing. The general rule of thumb for these nights was that as the alcohol flowed, common sense and boundaries dissolved. Tonight was proving to be no exception.
“Another one, Kel?” Jamie slurred, holding up the half-empty vodka bottle, his eyes a little too bright, a little too unfocused. He was sprawled on the worn, faded floral rug, a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, ash threatening to drop onto his already stained band t-shirt.
I just grunted, reaching for my plastic cup which was mostly melted ice and a splash of brown soda, the vodka long gone. My head felt heavy, a dull throb already starting behind my eyes. “Just pour it straight, I don’t care anymore.”
Adam, always the instigator, guffawed from the armchair, his lanky frame practically melting into the cushions. “That’s the spirit, sis! We’re not getting any younger, are we? This is what being eighteen is all about.” He took a long swig from his beer, then let out a loud, unapologetic belch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Alright,” Adam suddenly declared, snapping his fingers. “This is boring. Let’s play something. Truth or Dare?”
My stomach did a little flip, a familiar mix of excitement and dread. Truth or Dare with my brothers always ended up somewhere I regretted. Especially when we were this hammered. We’d played it countless times before, ever since we were kids, but the stakes had steadily climbed with each passing year, each new alcohol-fueled session. The lines between sibling rivalry and something… else, had blurred more than once.
“Oh god, Adam,” I mumbled, trying to wave him off, but a part of me, the part swimming in cheap vodka, was already saying yes. My cheeks felt flushed, not just from the alcohol but from the surge of nervous energy. “You know how this goes.”
“Exactly!” Jamie chimed in, suddenly animated, a predatory glint in his eyes that made my skin prickle. “That’s the fun of it, Kel. Come on. You in?”
I hesitated, looking from Jamie’s eager face to Adam’s smirk. They were my older brothers, both a couple of years ahead of me. We’d always been close, maybe too close, growing up in a house where privacy was a luxury we couldn’t afford. Drunken nights like this were common, a way to escape the monotony of our small-town existence. And it often veered into territory that, even in the “anything goes” era of the 90s, felt a little… edgy. But it was our edgy.
“Fine,” I sighed, taking a huge gulp of my watery vodka mix, trying to steel myself. “But no pushing it too far, alright?”
Adam laughed, a sharp, dismissive sound. “No promises, princess. Alright, I’ll start. Jamie, truth or dare?”
“Dare, obviously,” Jamie declared, stubbing out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray.
“Alright, dare you to… call Mom and tell her you’re secretly married.” Adam cackled.
Jamie groaned but pulled out his bulky Nokia phone, the green screen glowing eerily in the dim light. We all stifled giggles as he left a rambling, drunken voicemail for our unsuspecting mother, promising to introduce his ‘wife’ next week. It was classic Jamie, harmless, ridiculous.
Then it was Jamie’s turn. “Adam, truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Adam said, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
“Alright, truth. Who here, in this room, have you ever thought about getting with?” Jamie asked, his gaze lingering on me for a fraction of a second too long before flicking back to Adam.
My breath hitched. Oh, here we went. The air instantly thickened, shifting from lighthearted fun to something heavier, something that made the hairs on my arms stand up. I felt a blush creep up my neck.
Adam chuckled, a nervous sound. He took another swig of beer, stalling. “Dude, that’s a fucked up question.”
“A truth’s a truth, man,” Jamie pressed, leaning forward, an unsettling intensity in his eyes.
Adam finally sighed, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. He glanced at me, then away, then back again. “Alright, fine. You know I’ve always had a thing for that girl at the video store, Sarah. But… other than her… I guess… I mean… not seriously, but like, if it were the end of the world…” He trailed off, his gaze landing on my chest and then quickly up to my eyes.
I stared at him, my heart pounding. He didn’t say it, but the implication hung heavy in the air. Me. The alcohol in my system made me bold, defiant. “What? You going to say me, Adam? Because that’s fucking disgusting.”
“Hey, it’s just a truth!” Adam protested, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Doesn’t mean anything. Just a hypothetical, you know? Like, if we were the last three people on earth, and for the sake of humanity… or whatever.” He shrugged, trying to play it off, but his flushed face gave him away.
Jamie just grinned, a slow, knowing smile. “Right. My turn, Kel. Truth or Dare?”
I took a deep breath, the shame and the thrill battling inside me. I was drunk. Really, truly drunk. The inhibitions were rapidly dissolving. “Dare,” I declared, my voice a little shaky, but firm. I wouldn’t back down now.
Jamie’s eyes gleamed. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper, even though we were alone in the room. “Alright, Kel. I dare you to… take off your shirt. Just for a minute. Let us see what you’re working with.”
My eyes widened. My hand flew to the collar of my oversized band t-shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling too thin, too revealing. “Jamie! That’s… that’s too far.”
“Is it?” he challenged, his gaze fixed on me. “It’s just tits, Kel. We’re brothers, we’ve seen you in a swimsuit a thousand times.”
“A swimsuit isn’t this!” I protested, feeling a fresh wave of heat flood my face. My heart hammered against my ribs. But the dare was out there. To back down now would be seen as weakness, as being a prude, and that was a label I fiercely avoided. Especially in front of them.
Adam, who had been quiet, piped up. “Come on, Kel. Don’t be a chicken. It’s just us.” He was leaning forward, his eyes bright with anticipation.
My mind raced. My stomach churned. I’d never flashed anyone before. But the alcohol was a powerful persuader, whispering that it wasn’t a big deal, that it was just a game. A sick game, maybe, but still a game. And they were my brothers. Supposedly.
With a shaky sigh, I reached for the hem of my t-shirt. “Fine,” I muttered, trying to sound nonchalant, like I wasn’t about to have a full-blown panic attack. My fingers fumbled with the fabric, pulling it up slowly. The cool night air hit my skin as I lifted it over my head.
Beneath the shirt, I wore a simple white cotton bra. It was full, but nothing scandalous. Not padded, just soft cotton holding my C-cup breasts. My nipples, I knew, were already hard from the sudden chill and the sheer nerve-wracking tension of the moment. My fair skin, usually hidden, was exposed to the dim light.
“Whoa,” Adam breathed, his eyes wide.
Jamie just stared, a slow smile spreading across his face as his gaze traveled down my chest. “Nice, Kel. Really nice.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed, despite the bra. “Alright, you’ve seen them. Now what?”
“Wait,” Adam said, “dare you to take off the bra too.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you serious? No way!”
“It’s just tits, Kel,” Jamie repeated, his voice calm, almost coaxing. “We won’t tell anyone. It’s just for us. A secret.”
My mind screamed. My body was tense. This was too much. But then again, a part of me, the drunken, defiant part, felt a strange thrill. A rebellion against my own modesty, against the unspoken boundaries. It was a sick idea, I knew it, but the alcohol made it feel less sick, more like an adventure. A daring step into the forbidden.
My hands trembled as they went to the clasp of my bra. It felt like an eternity, but I unhooked it. The soft cups fell away, revealing my breasts in their full, pale glory. They were round and full, bouncing slightly with the sudden freedom. My nipples were already erect, dark rosebuds peeking out from their pale, light areolas. The skin around them was smooth, unblemished. I knew they were nice, I just never thought I’d be showing them to my brothers.
“Fuck,” Adam whispered, his eyes glued to my chest. He took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, then let the smoke curl out of his lips, his gaze still fixed.
Jamie’s reaction was similar, a low growl escaping his throat. His eyes devoured my exposed skin. “Yeah, Kel. Those are… excellent.”
I hugged myself tighter, trying to cover as much as possible, but it was useless. They were out, on full display, jiggling faintly with my nervous breathing. The vulnerability was overwhelming, yet beneath it, a tiny spark of something else, something illicit and powerful, began to glow.
“Alright, that’s enough!” I practically yelled, my voice cracking slightly. “My turn. Adam, truth or dare?” I needed to get the focus off me.
“Dare,” Adam said quickly, still admiring the view.
“I dare you to… chug an entire beer without stopping,” I said, pointing to the unopened can next to him. A weak dare, but I needed a breather.
Adam obliged, easily downing the can, foam dripping down his chin. He slammed it down, burping triumphantly. “Alright, Kelly. My turn. Truth or Dare?” His eyes were still on my chest, not quite meeting mine.
I quickly pulled my t-shirt back on, the fabric feeling like a shield. My bra remained off, forgotten in the heat of the moment, or perhaps deliberately left off, a quiet admission of where this night was heading. My nipples still brushed against the soft cotton, a constant reminder of the exposure.
“Dare,” I said, my voice firmer this time. I was done with the truths that implicated incestuous thoughts. I wanted action, something to distract from the gnawing unease.
Adam leaned forward, his gaze dropping lower, to my legs, where my cotton nightie was riding up my thighs. “Alright, Kel. I dare you to let Jamie just put the tip in. Just the tip. Right here on the rug.” He finished with a smirk, popping open another beer, the fizz sounding unnaturally loud in the suddenly silent room.
Jamie’s face instantly sobered up, or maybe it was just the intensity in his eyes, cutting through the haze of alcohol. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He just stared at Adam, then at me.
I froze, breath catching in my throat. My chest was tight, a knot of fear and something else, something hot and shameful, twisting in my gut. But the alcohol pushed the fear down, down, down, until it was a dull throb rather than a scream. The idea was sick, truly sick. They were my brothers. My flesh and blood. How could they even suggest such a thing?
“Eww fucking gross,” I said, taking a massive swig of my drink, trying to empty the cup, trying to empty my mind. My eyes felt heavy, struggling to stay focused, but the image of Jamie’s cock, of any cock, being put into me, right here, right now, was sickeningly vivid.
“Come on,” Adam said, his voice a low coax. “It’s just the tip. It’s a dare. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
“Yuck, you are sick, you’re my brothers,” I protested, my voice weak, already wavering. My body was screaming no, but my drunken mind was wrestling with the dare, the challenge, the perverse thrill of it all. It was twisted, horrible, but the desire to not be seen as weak, to play along, was strong. The boundary had been pushed so far already. What was one more step?
“Fine,” I sighed, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Just put the tip in and then pull out.” The words were out before I could truly process them, a surrender whispered on a drunken breath. A hot, prickling sensation spread through my lower belly. I knew I was going to regret this. But tonight, regret felt a million miles away, lost in the vodka fog.
I got onto the living room floor, my movements clumsy and slow. The worn rug felt rough against my bare skin as my nightie rode up even higher. I could feel their eyes on me, burning into me. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs.
With shaking fingers, I pulled up the cotton nightie I was wearing just enough, letting it bunch around my waist. My pink cotton panties, heavy and damp with sweat and something else, something wet and already expectant, were slid hard to the side. They bunched awkwardly, exposing everything. My pubic bone, the soft, fleshy mound, and then the slick, parted lips of my pussy.
Shit. Fuck. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken things, with the raw, potent energy of what was about to happen. My breath hitched, a silent sob catching in my throat. I wanted to stop, to scream, to run. But I was stuck, paralyzed by the dare, by the alcohol, by the shame and the twisted fascination.
I watched as Jamie pulled his cock out. It was big, bigger than I expected, already hard and throbbing, a deep purple mushroom head glistening in the weak room light. It was thick, a solid column of flesh, intimidating and terrifying and, somehow, compelling. He hadn’t even been touching himself, but it was fully erect, a testament to the tension in the room.
He got down on the floor with me, kneeling between my splayed legs. My panties still clung to one hip, a flimsy barrier, a last, desperate attempt at modesty.
“Very nice, didn’t expect to see a nice shaven pussy,” he said, his voice hoarse, breathless. He sounded genuinely surprised. He stroked his shaft once, a slow, deliberate movement that made my stomach clench, as he crawled close, his knees bumping against my thighs.
The fresh shave felt sensitive against the air, exposed and vulnerable. I’d shaved that morning, just a regular trim, not thinking for a second it would be on display like this. My pussy was already wet, slick with anticipation and the raw shame of what I was doing. I could feel the lips of my cunt parting slightly, a tiny tremor running through me. The wetness was a betrayal, a sign that even as my mind screamed no, my body was already reacting.
“I shaved it this morning. God, are we really doing this?” I mumbled, incredibly embarrassed to be laid out on the dirty rug with my fanny out in front of my brothers. It felt like a dream, a nightmare, like I was watching myself from above, unable to intervene.
He didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on my crotch, a primal intensity in his eyes. He just held his heavy shaft right at the slick crease where my inner folds met, hovering, the heat radiating off him.
The dare was only for him to put the tip inside. Just the tip. That was the rule, the unspoken agreement, my only meager defense against complete collapse.
But the moment the hot, blunt ridge of his head touched my wet skin, I started moaning, a low, involuntary sound. It was an electric shock, a jolt of heat and pressure that instantly overwhelmed my senses. I felt him slide past the initial barrier, past the tight opening, deep into my juicy, freshly shaven eighteen-year-old cunt.
“Oh fuck… you… was only…. s-suposed to put the tip of it in, not the whole of your dick,” I moaned, my voice thick with a mixture of protest and burgeoning pleasure. The words were weak, barely a whisper, drowned out by the sudden, all-encompassing sensation of being filled.
He was already balls deep. He hadn’t stopped at the tip. He hadn’t even paused. He was completely inside me, stretching me, filling me to capacity. He started a slow, heavy grind, a deep, primal movement that sent shivers through my entire body.
“There. You can take it out now.” I tried to push him away, but my hands were weak, my body strangely heavy, pinned by his weight and the overwhelming sensation.
He pulled back just a little, a torturous, teasing inch, then slowly started to slide back in and out. His eyes were locked on mine, a challenge, a question.
“Ahh… you sure you want me to take it out?” His voice was rough, low, laced with a triumphant smirk. He was defying the dare, pushing the boundaries, and I was too drunk, too filled, too overwhelmed to truly fight back.
He pushed deeper, burying himself inside me again, hitting a sweet spot that made my body arch completely off the rug. It was agonizingly good, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over the shame, momentarily drowning it out. My legs trembled under the impact.
In and out. In and out. In and out. Each movement was powerful, deliberate. Each thrust stretched me, filled me completely, pushing deep into my core. My pussy clamped tightly around his size, surprised by the sudden invasion. It felt incredible, terrifying, forbidden, and utterly, shockingly good. The friction was a burning delight, a fire spreading through my pelvis.
“Mmmph… oh god… Ahhh yeh… ahh my pussy.” The moans were coming without my permission, sounding needy and desperate, raw and guttural. My mind was reeling, trying to process the fact that my brother was inside me, fucking me, and my body was responding with an intensity I’d never known.
I heard a low grunt from beside us. A sound of raw, hungry arousal.
I risked a quick peek. Adam was leaning forward, his eyes glazed over, fixed on where Jamie was buried in me. His own cock was throbbing hard against his jeans, a visible bulge outlining his arousal. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Don’t stop, dude, she’s fucking loving it,” Adam mumbled, his voice thick and rough, a confirmation that I was indeed loving it, despite myself, despite everything. His words hit me like a splash of cold water, a momentary shock of shame, but it was quickly obliterated by the building tsunami of pleasure.
The shame was fully drowned by the intense pleasure that was building with every powerful, heavy stroke from Jamie. He was going faster now, slamming into me, making the old rug squeak violently under the force of his thrusts. My hips lifted to meet his, betraying any last shred of resistance I might have had. My hands clenched the rug, nails digging into the faded fibers. My head rolled back and forth, unable to control the movement, unable to control anything.
“Oh… FUCK… yes!” I finally screamed, grabbing his hips and pulling him even deeper, urging him on, desperate for more, desperate for release. It was pure, raw sensation, completely consuming me.
Nobody had ever given my fanny a proper seeing-to like Jamie was doing. My previous experiences, few and fumbling, paled in comparison to the brutal, insistent depth of his movements. He was completely filling me, stretching me in ways I hadn’t known possible, owning every inch of my body. Adam was just watching, transfixed, like he was next in line, waiting for his turn, a silent, ravenous spectator.
“Ahh sis… ahhh Kelly, ahhh yes. Adam, her… pussy feels so good. It’s so tight. You can have a go after me,” Jamie said, panting, his voice strained with effort as he sped up his thrusts, slamming into me harder and faster. His admission, his offering me up to our other brother, was another jolt of shame, yet it only fueled the perverse excitement, the sense of being completely given over to this forbidden act.
“Unngh… ahh, your panties… are rubbing against my shaft. You should have fully taken them off,” he grumbled, pulling back slightly, then pushing in with renewed force, grinding against the bunched fabric at my hip.
“S-stop moaning… ahh… you’re getting free pussy… ain’t you. You really… shouldn’t be fucking me, ahhhh.” I glanced again at Adam watching us fuck, my eyes wide, a silent plea for him to stop this, even as my body arched into Jamie’s thrusts. My words were contradictory, a desperate attempt to cling to some sense of normalcy, some resistance, even as I was melting under Jamie’s relentless assault.
Jamie’s hands slid up my body, pushing my nightie all the way up, completely revealing my tits. They were still bare, the bra discarded a lifetime ago. I was a solid C-size, not huge, but full and bouncy, especially now, with my breath coming in ragged gasps. My nipples were already hard, engorged and dark, the areolas pale and light against my fair skin, standing out prominently, begging for attention. They jiggled violently with each of Jamie’s deep thrusts.
“Oh, no bra. Wait… I need a better angle,” he said, his eyes still fixed on my pussy, but his mind already moving to the next level of exposure.
He stopped thrusting for a moment, a groan of protest escaping my lips as the delicious pressure eased. He quickly shifted my position, placing each of my legs right up onto his shoulders. He was holding my hips tightly, bracing me, opening me up even more. My naked pelvis was tilted higher, my wet entrance presented more clearly, more shamelessly. The new angle made me feel even more vulnerable, more exposed, more like a willing piece of meat.
Then he started to move again, slamming into me with renewed vigor, the depth and angle even more intense. My pussy stretched around him, encompassing his entire length, feeling like it would split open with the force of his entry.
“Ahh fuck, so much better. Nice tits, Kel. Look at them jiggle. You like that, Kel?” he grunted, his voice raw with lust. His gaze flicked from my pussy to my exposed breasts as they bounced and swayed with every thrust.
“Fuck, Jamie, yes!” I cried out, my voice echoing off the living room walls, a raw, desperate sound. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming to fight anymore. I was a vessel for his pleasure, and mine was tied irrevocably to his.
I looked over at Adam. He was staring at my jiggling breasts, his face flushed, his eyes hooded with an intense hunger. He was practically vibrating with pent-up energy, his hand now subtly moving against the bulge in his jeans.
“Adam, don’t just stand there—” I gasped as Jamie’s cock slammed deeper, hitting the back of my velvet box with a jolt that made my thighs tremble, sending sparks of pure sensation through me. The words were a half-formed plea, a desperate invitation, an acknowledgement of the unspoken desire that had been building between us all night.
“Ahh! Fuck… Jamie, Ahh ahhh… I can’t believe I am so drunk, and I am letting you fuck… my fanny.” The protest was weak, barely there, overridden by the sheer, exhilarating onslaught of pleasure. My body was singing, screaming, writhing under him.
Adam dropped quickly to his knees beside us. His fingers brushed my exposed nipple, a light, teasing touch that sent a shiver through me. The sensitivity was exquisite, heightened by the alcohol and the frantic pace of Jamie’s thrusts.
“Shit, Kelly… you’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, watching Jamie’s cock glisten with my slickness as it slid in and out of my pussy, pulling a wet, sucking sound with each withdrawal before plunging back in. The sight of his brother buried inside me, slick with my juices, was clearly pushing him over the edge.
“Touch her tits, Adam,” Jamie grunted, his grip tightening brutally on my hips, pulling me harder against him as he neared his climax. “See how soft they are? Fuck… her pussy’s even better. Kel, why not suck off Adam, may as well make it a threesome. Here a sec.”
Jamie slid his cock out with a wet pop, withdrawing from my over-stimulated pussy with a gasp. My body cried out in protest at the sudden emptiness, trembling violently. He adjusted me roughly, getting me on all fours, my bare ass high in the air, my pussy now facing him, glistening and gaping.
“Ahhh… no… Jamie, wait,” I protested weakly, my voice barely audible, trying to push myself up, but he held me firm. The world spun. This was truly it, the line completely obliterated. The sick idea was no longer an idea. It was happening.
Then he was behind me, his cock, still hard and dripping, sliding back into my pussy from behind. The angle was different, deeper, more primal. My hands were planted on the rug, my head bowed in shame and desperate pleasure. He was still pumping into me, each thrust hitting my G-spot, making me whimper and cling to the rug for dear life.
Adam, meanwhile, stood near my head, his own cock, thick and engorged, already out of his jeans, twitching and pulsating. He looked at me, then at Jamie, then back at me. There was no hesitation, only raw, hungry demand in his eyes. He leaned down, his face close to mine.
“Come on, Kel,” he whispered, his voice rough. “You heard him. Take it. You know you want to.” He nudged his stiff shaft against my cheek.
My head swam. I was completely lost in the vortex of sensation, of shame, of liquor. The disgust was still there, a thin, nagging voice, but it was being systematically crushed by the overwhelming pleasure from Jamie’s incessant pounding, by the heat of Adam’s body beside me, by the sheer, depraved insanity of the situation. My pussy was being absolutely ravaged, stretched, owned.
I lifted my head slightly, my eyes wide, unfocused. Adam’s thick, veined cock was right there, heavy and pulsing. It was bigger than Jamie’s, a deeper shade of red, the head a wider, more prominent mushroom. It glistened with a pre-cum sheen. The smell of male arousal, of his body, filled my nostrils.
“I… I can’t,” I mumbled, but even as I spoke, my lips parted slightly, my tongue darting out to wet them, a purely instinctive, animalistic movement.
Adam took it as an invitation. He pushed his cock gently against my mouth, nudging my lips open. “Just like this, Kel. Nice and slow. You can do it.”
It was a dare. A command. A plea. Jamie was moaning behind me, his hips slamming into my ass, pushing me further onto Adam’s cock. My body was no longer my own. It was theirs.
My mouth opened wider, and Adam’s cock slid past my lips. The head was surprisingly soft, velvety, then the shaft, thick and hard, filled my mouth, pushing against my teeth, against my tongue. It tasted salty, metallic, intoxicating. A gag reflex fought against my drunken surrender, but the sheer force of the dare, the overwhelming pressure, made me suppress it.
I sucked. It was clumsy at first, tentative, but the feel of his hot, pulsing flesh filled my mouth, and I found myself involuntarily moving my head, taking more of him, drawing back and forth. My cheeks ached.
“Oh fuck, Kel,” Adam groaned, his eyes closing, his head tilting back as I worked on him. “That’s it. That’s so good.” His hand went to the back of my head, holding me there, pushing me further onto his cock, dictating the rhythm.
Behind me, Jamie groaned louder, picking up his pace, his thrusts becoming frantic, desperate. “Fuck, Kel, you’re so good. Both of you. Come on, Kel, don’t stop.”
My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Disgust, shame, hot, undeniable pleasure. My sisterly bond, my sense of self, my very identity, felt like it was fracturing, crumbling under the weight of this grotesque, exhilarating act. Yet, my body, completely detached from the moral compass of my mind, was responding with a primal hunger. My pussy was being fucked senseless by one brother, while my mouth pleasured the other.
I looked up, my eyes meeting Adam’s. He was staring down at me, his face streaked with sweat, his eyes still glazed, but with a flicker of something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher. Possession? Triumph? Guilt? I didn’t know. I was just there, a willing participant in this depraved spectacle.
My tongue swirled around the head of his cock, tasting him, teasing him. I tried to take more, pushing it deeper into my throat, gagging slightly, but forcing myself to continue. I wanted to please him, to get this over with, to just be done with the overwhelming sensations.
Jamie’s breath hitched behind me. His whole body stiffened. “Oh god, Kel, I’m gonna… I’m gonna come!” he cried out, his thrusts becoming a frantic, uncontrolled rhythm. He pulled me tighter against him, grinding his hips into my ass, slamming into me, deeper and deeper, until I thought he would break me.
My pussy clenched around him, squeezing, milking him. My whole body tensed, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak, a white-hot wave that consumed everything. My back arched, my fingers dug into the rug, my mouth still working diligently on Adam’s cock.
“Ahh… ahh, Jamie! Yes! I’m… I’m coming!” I screamed, a guttural shriek that felt torn from my very soul. My pussy convulsed around Jamie’s cock, a series of intense, powerful contractions drawing a thick groan from him. My legs shook uncontrollably, my entire body spasming in a mind-blowing orgasm that left me breathless, gasping, utterly spent.
As my climax shook me, Jamie let out a final, roaring grunt, his body stiffening, then collapsing onto my back, his cock still buried deep inside me as he pumped his load deep into my pussy. The hot gush of his cum filled me, a surprising warmth that mingled with the wetness already there. It was shockingly intimate, shockingly real.
I lay there, trembling, my body heavy, my pussy throbbing, Jamie’s warmth heavy upon me. Adam started to pull his cock out of my mouth, but then I felt him stiffen as well.
“Don’t stop, Kel,” he commanded, his voice strained, raw with his own approaching climax. “Just a little more. You’re so good at that. Oh, fuck.” He pushed his cock back into my mouth, deeper this time, hitting the back of my throat. My throat muscles tightened reflexively, but the urge to please, to finish what I had started, to just get it done, was stronger than the discomfort.
I sucked harder, my head moving rhythmically, my body still quivering from my own orgasm, the aftershocks making me even more sensitive. My chest heaved. I focused on his cock, on the task, on nothing else. I could feel the tension building in him, a palpable energy.
Then he let out a choked cry, his body tensing hard. His hips bucked, and a torrent of hot, thick cum shot into my mouth, flooding my throat, filling me with his salty, musky essence. It was a deluge, more than I expected, and I almost choked, gagging slightly, but I forced myself to swallow, to take it all in, to consume my brother’s seed. It felt like another act of complete surrender, a final, definitive crossing of the line.
He groaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure release, his body shuddering against mine. He pulled his now softer cock out of my mouth, panting heavily, his face flushed, eyes still closed in ecstasy.
I lay face-down on the rug, my cheek pressed against the rough fibers, tasting my brothers’ cum, feeling Jamie’s weight on my back, his spent cock still deep inside me, slowly shrinking. My pussy was slick, full, aching, thoroughly fucked. My mouth was coated, my throat sore. The silence in the room was deafening, punctuated only by our ragged breaths.
The alcohol was starting to wear off, or perhaps the shock of what had just happened was sobering me up. A cold, hard knot of shame and self-loathing began to form in my stomach, slowly, inexorably, replacing the earlier pleasure. It was done. It had happened. I had let them do it. I had wanted it.
Jamie slowly rolled off me, pulling his now flaccid cock from my pussy with a soft, wet slurp. The sudden emptiness was stark. I tried to push myself up, my body heavy and weak, my limbs feeling like jelly.
“Fuck, Kel,” Jamie whispered, his voice still hoarse, but with a new edge of disbelief, or perhaps dawning realization. He looked at me, his eyes wide, then at his own still-damp cock, then at Adam, who was slowly zipping up his jeans, avoiding my gaze.
I didn’t answer. I just lay there, naked and exposed, violated and satisfied, utterly broken and strangely whole. The living room reeked of sex, of cum, of stale vodka and cigarette smoke. The streetlights outside still cast their sickly glow. It was past three in the morning. And nothing would ever be the same again. My fight, my protests, had been drowned out by my body’s response, by the overwhelming power of the forbidden. And in the 90s, before the “woke crap” as they called it, we just fucked up and lived with the consequences. Or tried to.