My insolent brother

Only then did I allow myself to quietly sob, biting my plump lips and tasting the salty tears flowing from my eyes. All defiled and dirty, I looked at the ceiling, sifting through my thoughts that arose one after another like a pesky fly in my head.

'What will mom say?', 'How will I look them in the eye now?' – everything was mixed up. But I felt bad not just because it was 'mom's husband and his son,' but because I liked it. And it all started long before our first time.

Sergey was an incredible handsome man, and Danil clearly took after his father, which was evident from his appearance. Just the sight of him sent shivers down my spine – let alone the moment he first touched me.

It’s no wonder I fell into a trance then – does every day see a 'gray mouse' beset by her secret fantasies?

Until that moment, all I could do was lock myself in the bathroom and masturbate, thinking about my beloved stepbrother. I imagined in my imagination how he crossed the boundaries of what was permitted.

My imagination was quite elaborate. Perhaps it was like that because I didn't communicate with anyone in school or university. I had to somehow abstract myself from reality in my imaginary world to entertain myself.

But as time went on and I grew older, the cute rainbow with pink unicorns was gradually replaced by hot men. They fucked me hard, holding me by the hair and gagging my mouth to make me moan quieter.

But then, my tastes changed. I saw many people who sometimes became the object of my adoration until they appeared—strong, proud, and taciturn. The father and son perfectly fit my type.

And I constantly dreamed about them. And then I shamelessly masturbated to their images. I did this almost every evening.

This is a wonderful feeling of the forbidden. When, on a subconscious level, you realize that you are doing something wrong, but still don’t stop. It all started small—sometimes they would just appear in my thoughts, and I would inadvertently ponder them without giving it much thought.

But over time, my fantasies became more and more frank: I imagined how my mother leaves home for work, and they, holding me in a corner, slowly begin to undress me.

In my dreams, Sergei was always “softer” in terms of intimacy, and often I imagined how he simply caressed my crotch, covering the lower part of my body with kisses, sometimes tracing some patterns with his tongue.

In my fantasies, Danil was a bold guy. While his father was pleasing me, he roughly groped my breasts, kneaded my erect nipples and put hickeys on my neck, not allowing me to relax. Oh, how excited I was by these thoughts! By quickly moving my fingers and actively massaging the clitoris, I almost always achieved orgasm in a matter of minutes.

Unfortunately, that feeling faded quickly. After experiencing waves of pleasure, I would look around my bathroom again, wrap myself in a towel, and go to bed with the thought that something like this would never happen in real life under any circumstances.

Did I know that a boomerang would hit me in the face with the words 'It will happen, darling, it will happen,' and that now, lying on the floor, I would be thinking about how it happened? But let’s return to reality.

Propping myself up slightly, I leaned on my elbows and looked around: everything seemed surreal and fabricated. I didn't recognize the familiar walls and the sofa, and the movie playing in the background felt trivial. Maybe there was no such thing as my first time at all? But those thoughts quickly left me as soon as I looked down.

My naked body was freezing on the cold floor, and the lubricant and sperm flowing from my body helped me understand that no, I wasn’t up to anything. It was all real this time. It happened in real life, not in my fantasies.

My throat was still uncomfortably sore from recent sexual intercourse. “Oh, my men were good,” flashed through my head, while my crotch began to howl painfully again.

Ignoring the 'call' of my body, I stood up, approached the door, and looked around the house. There was no noise.

'Where are they? Did they go somewhere?' I wondered.

Extending my neat long leg, I stepped onto the parquet floor and, tiptoeing, began to move towards the bathroom to wash away the traces of the recent 'exciting' events.

Upon opening the door to the room, I breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that I could finally relax and detach myself from the outside world when I suddenly felt someone’s gaze on me.

Mentally making a questioning grimace, I slowly lifted my gaze and saw a no less surprised Danil.

'What are you doing here?' I began to confront him. After all, the best defense is attack, right?

'That's what I should be asking you!' the guy replied grumpily, raising an eyebrow. Hearing his displeased tone, I instantly shrank inside. Deciding not to argue, I honestly confessed:

"'I wanted to wash up... I thought you had already left, so I... well... I think I'll go now,' I said.

As I turned my leg toward the door, which I hadn’t moved far from, I suddenly felt my body lose balance, and I began to fall.

A moment later, I realized that this self-assured guy had decided to pull me toward him. He grabbed my skirt and gave it a sharp tug, causing me to feel that sudden loss of connection with the ground beneath my feet and with reality.

'What the...?' were the words that raced through my mind just before the young man pressed me against his powerful, muscular body. He was the spitting image of his father—equally handsome and overly self-assured because he knew he was attractive.

I’ll be honest; it’s quite a favorable position—pinning down the girls you like whenever you want! And no one will say anything because they would all be fine with such behavior, right?

And maybe I would have remained lost in my thoughts if it weren't for Danil, who finally spoke up.