A Sibling Love Story
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Elizabeth's Story - Sibling Love - Chapter 2 - The Aftermath Of My Sin free porn video
Chapter 2: dealing with my sin
I remained in the shower for an extended period of time, trying to deal with the conflict that was overwhelming me. I could not quite get my mind around what had just occurred; and what I had done.
In a moment of weakness, I had crossed a line that our society has deemed uncrossable. I had violated one of the most fundamental taboos that exist; a taboo that has existed since biblical time.
I was ashamed, and guilt ridden; at the same time I was excited and confused. I did not fully understand my reaction to the events of an hour ago; but the image of Gary’s magnificent erect cock as it erupted with the remarkable spewing of semen was profoundly stimulating to me. Even now, awash with guilt and shame, I could not deny that by simply recalling these events, I grew aroused almost instantly.
To say I was conflicted does no justice to the inner turmoil I was experiencing.
I exited the shower, dried and quickly dressed in gym shorts and an athletic top. I did not want to face Gary, or anyone else right then. I needed time alone.
The one activity of solitude during which I could search my most inner thoughts was running. I donned my running shoes. I exited the house, grabbing an apple, as I started my run.
It was just under three and a half miles from my front door to the closest Starbuck’s. That is where I headed at a furious pace. I was perspiring lightly when I arrived at the coffee shop about thirty minutes after leaving my house.
I ordered a small latte', doctored it to my liking, and sat in one of the overstuffed chairs. Almost as soon as I sat down, James, who was a classmate of mine and whose attention I had been wanting for some time, came in and struck up a conversation.
“Liz, what's up?”
“Just out for a morning run. I thought I would grab a latte' before I headed back out to complete my run.”
James was in honors math and physics with me. He was tall, good looking, and athletic. Two days ago, I would have been gushing at the thought of James striking up a conversation with me, hoping that he would ask me out. I have had a crush on him for over a year. But now I wanted to escape this conversation.
I quickly realized that I was focused solely on Gary. My mind was fixated on Gary’s marvelous body at this moment. I did not want to be distracted from my thoughts of Gary's wonderful penis, and how it erupted earlier with my help.
James did not currently interest me. The events of this morning had been more than a physical or sexual experimentation for me. I quickly realized that this morning's events represented a significant emotional event to me.
The intimacy that Gary and I shared earlier, which led to powerful orgasms for both of us, had resulted in a very real emotional connection from my perspective. I had no idea what Gary was feeling at this moment. I needed to find out.
I feared that I was about to learn a valuable lesson in the difference between how men and women view intimacy. I now know that often times men can be intimate without an emotional connection. Men are capable of ‘sport humping’ or, to be more crude, ‘sport fucking’. Women, on the other hand, have a tendency to tie deep emotional connections to real intimacy.
And as absurd as it now sounds, the physical exchange that Gary and I shared this morning had touched me more deeply than a physical release, I was now emotionally attached to my stepbrother in a way that certainly was not normal, and arguably, not healthy.
I did not understand it at that moment, but I needed to escape the conversation with James. James would have been a normal and healthy target for my emotions, but at this particular moment, I was distracted with strong emotional feelings for Gary. I could not be bothered with James right now. I needed to find and confront Gary to determine his state of mind.
After about ten minutes of small talk, I finished my coffee and excused myself from James.
“Hey, it was great running into you this morning, but I better be finishing my run before I lose whatever motivation I have,” I said as I got up and prepared to leave.
James, who was quite popular with the girls at our school, was not used to being dismissed. He actually looked shocked that I was not thrilled to stay and enjoy his company longer. He made one last overture, “So do you have plans tonight?”
To which I replied, “Yeah, I am hooked up with some family stuff tonight; but perhaps we can get together some other time.”
I realized that I just brushed off one of the more popular boys in school. This was a first for both James and me. In truth, it felt kind of good at the time.
I took off, and took a convoluted way home. My best guess is I made the return trip five or six miles long, and took a little better than an hour to complete the run. It was approaching noon when I arrived home, sweating heavily and having run some of the anxiety out of my body. But I was no closer to understanding my feelings or knowing what I should do next than when I left.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee and nursing her daily hangover. If she stayed true to form, she would start drinking sometime in the late afternoon, be drunk before dinner and be asleep by eight or nine o'clock tonight.
I felt badly for her. I wished I knew how to help her, but I realized I had nothing to offer her. Hopefully, some day she would pull herself out of the alcoholic abyss she occupied, but that would depend on her, not me. Right now, I had my own issues to deal with.
I looked for Gary, although I was not sure what I would say when I found him.
“Where is Gary?” I asked mom.
“I don’t know. He set out of here like a bat on fire about an hour ago. He did not say where he was heading, or when he’d be back. He really doesn’t talk to me much anyway. I guess it is just the stage he is going through.”
Mom paused and then continued, almost talking to herself, “I am glad you and I still communicate well.”
I thought to myself how silly the last statement sounded. Mom and I had not really talked since Dad died. But I did not see any reason to correct her illusion that we were still communicating and talking.
Gary’s absence caused my anxiety level to jump. My mind raced with all kinds of scenarios about what he was feeling and thinking, and what he was doing right now. I was concerned that he might be sharing the details of this morning with one or more of his friends. That thought scared me beyond belief.
I tried to focus on my homework. Mostly, I just sat there, staring at my physics book, reliving the events of the morning, and working various scenarios about the future in my head. The daydreams both scared and excited me. Try as I might, I could not purge the vivid images from my brain, and my body reacted to the memories; I was wet and aroused, and ashamed that I was. And my anxiety level was at an all-time high.
After struggling with my homework for over an hour, I had only completed three of twelve assigned problems. I decided to abandon this effort and watch some TV. It was 3:30 p.m. Mom was just now starting her ritual of orange juice and vodka.
I occupied myself for several hours, waiting for Gary to return, and avoiding Mom. I was getting increasingly pissed that Gary had abandoned me this way. Why wasn’t he as anxious as I was to discuss this? Why wasn’t he concerned with my mental and emotional state?
It was one of my earliest lessons that men are insensitive bastards. We really should not expect them to act any better than they do.
I finally approached Mom, and offered to make pasta for dinner. Mom was very happy to abdicate dinner responsibility to me. She was not drunk yet, but she was ‘on her way’, so to speak. It was after six o’clock when Gary came bounding in, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world; acting as if everything was normal. In the context of the inner turmoil with which I was dealing, his carefree attitude really irritated me.
I ignored him in a little show of my displeasure, but I am not sure he even noticed. We ate dinner. Mom complimented me on the pasta and garlic bread. Gary grunted agreement that it was good. After dinner, Mom retired to the family room with her drink. Gary escaped upstairs and I rinsed the dishes and stacked the dishwasher.
As I contemplated this morning’s events, I convinced myself that what Gary and I did was wrong, and it needed to stop. As appealing, exciting and enjoyable as this morning was, continuing a relationship with my stepbrother violated every rule in our society.
I freely admit, there was a part of me that wanted this torrid relationship to continue. Mixed with the shame and deep embarrassment of my sin, was the excitement of the memory of masturbating my stepbrother to orgasm, and climaxing myself while I did it. Part of me wanted to experience that again and again. But I knew it was wrong, and I committed to telling Gary we needed to prevent a recurrence. I was deeply conflicted.
I was still wearing my running clothes, and I had not washed since my run earlier in the day, so I was kind of 'grungy'.
I decided to take a shower for the second time today. I needed to clean up before discussing my thoughts with Gary. I also was considering not discussing this tonight but delaying the ‘talk’ until tomorrow.
Hell, I didn't know what I was going to do.
I went into the bathroom Gary and I shared. As I undressed, I studied myself in the mirror. I looked good. My breasts were firm, and my bright pink nipples were prominent and erect. I was developing a nice firm butt that in conjunction with my long legs, completed a very nice, athletic figure.
I was proud of my physical development. Despite knowing our physical relationship should stop, I really felt that Gary should appreciate how good his stepsister really looked. After all, I had responded very much to his naked form. I felt a bit insulted that he did not seem to recognize what an attractive woman I was becoming.
Our shower had a hand held ‘shower-pic massager’ that hung from the wall. I turned to dial to pulsating massage. The water pulsed against my breasts and a shoulders. It felt wonderful. I turned and allowed the pulsating jets to massage my neck and shoulders.
I heard the bathroom door open and close, and my pulse quickened as I stood motionless, listening intently to determine if anyone had entered the room. I heard the unmistakable sound of movement, and my heart pounded even more furiously in my chest.
I felt an anxious ache in my stomach as I questioned simply, “Gary?”, without looking outside the shower curtain.
“Yeah, Liz, it’s me.”
Gary paused and I waited silently for him to continue. I knew I should ask him to leave, but something stopped me. I just could not instruct him to exit the steamy bathroom at that moment. I just could not utter those words. I admit it; I wanted him to stay.
After an uncomfortable silence, Gary continued,“I just wanted to check on you and see how you are doing?”
“I am fine, I guess.”
There was a quiver in my voice that revealed my nervousness.
I continued, “I am a little freaked about this morning is all. I can’t believe we did that.”
“It was pretty incredible, and freaky” Gary agreed.
Then he slowly pulled to shower curtain back slightly, and peered in at me. He was wearing a pair of light grey gym shorts and t-shirt. The t-shirt highlighted his strong chest and arms. He was well on his way to becoming a very attractive man with an excellent physique.
I stood there, in all my glorious nakedness.
“Gary, we can’t be doing this. This is not right. You are my brother, well stepbrother. But it is still wrong.”
I made no attempt to cover myself, or to close the shower curtain,.
With my back towards him, and the water streaming down my shoulders and back, I stood there shamelessly, allowing Gary to study naked back and butt. I wanted him to see me this way.
My voice quivered as I spoke, “Gary, this morning was a mistake; a mistake we cannot repeat.”
I could actually feel his eyes scanning my naked form. I shut my eyes and let him look.
“Gary, you shouldn’t be in here with me.”
This was as close to asking him to leave as I could muster. But I did not want him to leave. I wanted him to look at me, I wanted him to see me with the same admiration and lust with which I looked at him this morning.
I turned to face him, allowing the water to strike my breasts and abdomen and run across my pelvis as he stared. My nipples were firmly erect, as was my clitoris. My vagina had a thin blond wisps of pubic hair that provided very little covering
I stood there, eyes closed. I was relishing exposing myself to my stepbrother in this shameless manner.
My face burned red with excitement, but I did not turn away.
“Damn, Liz, you are beautiful. You are smoking hot,” Gary said with the proper appreciation in his voice. His reaction, his validation was precisely what I was seeking, what I needed.
“You shouldn’t be looking at your sister like this,” I said, but did nothing to stop this visual exchange. I was growing increasing aroused under his gaze.
"Stepsister," he corrected me.
"That's not really the point, is it?"
I glanced at the front of his gym pants, and I could plainly see his erection growing before my eyes. His penis was making a large tent out of the cotton material, pulling it taut as his rising erection strained against the confines of his shorts. I could see it pulse and grow as we talked, and as his eyes devoured my naked body. It pleased me greatly that he was aroused by the sight of me. His physical reaction excited me. His growing erection fueled my own arousal.
My resolve to avoid a repeat of the morning was rapidly evaporating as I allowed Gary to look at my naked body and grow aroused in the process.
Gary then reached over and took the shower massager from its hanger on the wall, and directed it at my chest. I stepped forward slightly. I know I should have stopped this while I still had some ability to do so; but I could not seem to resist this carnal temptation.
Painfully slowly, in a teasing manner, Gary began lowering the pulsating jet down, slowly bringing it across my abdomen, and then lower still to my very fine, blond pubic hair. God, I was aroused. When the jet reached my clitoris, I shuttered and moaned before pulling away.
“Oh shit, Gary. That is intense!”
“Spread your legs slightly for me,” Gary instructed as he lowered the jet again, this time he was wedging the pulsing unit between my legs to jet up against my vaginal opening and clitoris.
“Gary, I can’t do that. We can’t be doing this,” I protested. But as I made my protest, I did precisely what Gary asked, I opened my legs and allowed him to hold the handle between my thighs, jetting up at my aroused clitoris. I did not want him to stop or to leave. I needed this emotional contact.
Spreading my legs slightly to allow him to place the pulsating handle between them, I felt a bit unsteady on my feet in the slippery tub. I grabbed the shower curtain in one hand and balanced myself against the shower wall with the other as I allowed the pulsating jet to stimulate me in a manner that I could not have imagined moments before.
“Oh shit, Gary, …..so intense….”
I was having difficulty speaking as the water stimulated me. I pulled back again from the intensity of the jets on my clitoris.
Gary stepped forward a bit to move the jet closer to its targets. The pulsating jet formed a spray that was soaking Gary's gym pants and shirt. The light grey material of his shorts was turning darker as it became wetter. But Gary did not seem to be concerned about his wet clothes.
I started to pull back again as the stimulation on my clitoris was becoming too much to endure.
“Don’t move away. Stand still.”
Gary was not making a request, he was giving me an order. His dominant approach only added to my excitement, and his dominant approach seemed to absolve me of my culpability slightly. He was my younger stepbrother, but he was giving me orders and I was complying. I reasoned that I was not actually initiating any of this myself.
“Oh, Jesus Gary, I don’t know if I can take this. It is too much,” I moaned, squatting down and spreading my legs wider against the powerful pulsating jet.
“Don’t move. Let the water work,” Gary commanded with an authority that I had not heard before.
I wanted to pull away, to give my very sensitive clitoris a moment's break from the intense pulsating jet. However, something deep inside my core wanted to comply with Gary’s instructions. As I squatted further to open myself up for the jet to work its magic. I could feel the beginning of a climax starting to build.
I was afraid I would slip or topple over as I rocked my hips back and forth. My hips were humping involuntarily against the steady stream of stimulation. I reached out with both hands to steady myself on Gary’s shoulders.
Using Gary to steady myself, I felt more confident in squatting more deeply, opening myself up more fully, exposing myself to the pressure of the jet on my erect clitoris. In this position, the water was pulsingTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
I remained in the shower for an extended period of time, trying to deal with the conflict that was overwhelming me. I could not quite get my mind around what had just occurred; and what I had done.
In a moment of weakness, I had crossed a line that our society has deemed uncrossable. I had violated one of the most fundamental taboos that exist; a taboo that has existed since biblical time.
I was ashamed, and guilt ridden; at the same time I was excited and confused. I did not fully understand my reaction to the events of an hour ago; but the image of Gary’s magnificent erect cock as it erupted with the remarkable spewing of semen was profoundly stimulating to me. Even now, awash with guilt and shame, I could not deny that by simply recalling these events, I grew aroused almost instantly.
To say I was conflicted does no justice to the inner turmoil I was experiencing.
I exited the shower, dried and quickly dressed in gym shorts and an athletic top. I did not want to face Gary, or anyone else right then. I needed time alone.
The one activity of solitude during which I could search my most inner thoughts was running. I donned my running shoes. I exited the house, grabbing an apple, as I started my run.
It was just under three and a half miles from my front door to the closest Starbuck’s. That is where I headed at a furious pace. I was perspiring lightly when I arrived at the coffee shop about thirty minutes after leaving my house.
I ordered a small latte', doctored it to my liking, and sat in one of the overstuffed chairs. Almost as soon as I sat down, James, who was a classmate of mine and whose attention I had been wanting for some time, came in and struck up a conversation.
“Liz, what's up?”
“Just out for a morning run. I thought I would grab a latte' before I headed back out to complete my run.”
James was in honors math and physics with me. He was tall, good looking, and athletic. Two days ago, I would have been gushing at the thought of James striking up a conversation with me, hoping that he would ask me out. I have had a crush on him for over a year. But now I wanted to escape this conversation.
I quickly realized that I was focused solely on Gary. My mind was fixated on Gary’s marvelous body at this moment. I did not want to be distracted from my thoughts of Gary's wonderful penis, and how it erupted earlier with my help.
James did not currently interest me. The events of this morning had been more than a physical or sexual experimentation for me. I quickly realized that this morning's events represented a significant emotional event to me.
The intimacy that Gary and I shared earlier, which led to powerful orgasms for both of us, had resulted in a very real emotional connection from my perspective. I had no idea what Gary was feeling at this moment. I needed to find out.
I feared that I was about to learn a valuable lesson in the difference between how men and women view intimacy. I now know that often times men can be intimate without an emotional connection. Men are capable of ‘sport humping’ or, to be more crude, ‘sport fucking’. Women, on the other hand, have a tendency to tie deep emotional connections to real intimacy.
And as absurd as it now sounds, the physical exchange that Gary and I shared this morning had touched me more deeply than a physical release, I was now emotionally attached to my stepbrother in a way that certainly was not normal, and arguably, not healthy.
I did not understand it at that moment, but I needed to escape the conversation with James. James would have been a normal and healthy target for my emotions, but at this particular moment, I was distracted with strong emotional feelings for Gary. I could not be bothered with James right now. I needed to find and confront Gary to determine his state of mind.
After about ten minutes of small talk, I finished my coffee and excused myself from James.
“Hey, it was great running into you this morning, but I better be finishing my run before I lose whatever motivation I have,” I said as I got up and prepared to leave.
James, who was quite popular with the girls at our school, was not used to being dismissed. He actually looked shocked that I was not thrilled to stay and enjoy his company longer. He made one last overture, “So do you have plans tonight?”
To which I replied, “Yeah, I am hooked up with some family stuff tonight; but perhaps we can get together some other time.”
I realized that I just brushed off one of the more popular boys in school. This was a first for both James and me. In truth, it felt kind of good at the time.
I took off, and took a convoluted way home. My best guess is I made the return trip five or six miles long, and took a little better than an hour to complete the run. It was approaching noon when I arrived home, sweating heavily and having run some of the anxiety out of my body. But I was no closer to understanding my feelings or knowing what I should do next than when I left.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee and nursing her daily hangover. If she stayed true to form, she would start drinking sometime in the late afternoon, be drunk before dinner and be asleep by eight or nine o'clock tonight.
I felt badly for her. I wished I knew how to help her, but I realized I had nothing to offer her. Hopefully, some day she would pull herself out of the alcoholic abyss she occupied, but that would depend on her, not me. Right now, I had my own issues to deal with.
I looked for Gary, although I was not sure what I would say when I found him.
“Where is Gary?” I asked mom.
“I don’t know. He set out of here like a bat on fire about an hour ago. He did not say where he was heading, or when he’d be back. He really doesn’t talk to me much anyway. I guess it is just the stage he is going through.”
Mom paused and then continued, almost talking to herself, “I am glad you and I still communicate well.”
I thought to myself how silly the last statement sounded. Mom and I had not really talked since Dad died. But I did not see any reason to correct her illusion that we were still communicating and talking.
Gary’s absence caused my anxiety level to jump. My mind raced with all kinds of scenarios about what he was feeling and thinking, and what he was doing right now. I was concerned that he might be sharing the details of this morning with one or more of his friends. That thought scared me beyond belief.
I tried to focus on my homework. Mostly, I just sat there, staring at my physics book, reliving the events of the morning, and working various scenarios about the future in my head. The daydreams both scared and excited me. Try as I might, I could not purge the vivid images from my brain, and my body reacted to the memories; I was wet and aroused, and ashamed that I was. And my anxiety level was at an all-time high.
After struggling with my homework for over an hour, I had only completed three of twelve assigned problems. I decided to abandon this effort and watch some TV. It was 3:30 p.m. Mom was just now starting her ritual of orange juice and vodka.
I occupied myself for several hours, waiting for Gary to return, and avoiding Mom. I was getting increasingly pissed that Gary had abandoned me this way. Why wasn’t he as anxious as I was to discuss this? Why wasn’t he concerned with my mental and emotional state?
It was one of my earliest lessons that men are insensitive bastards. We really should not expect them to act any better than they do.
I finally approached Mom, and offered to make pasta for dinner. Mom was very happy to abdicate dinner responsibility to me. She was not drunk yet, but she was ‘on her way’, so to speak. It was after six o’clock when Gary came bounding in, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world; acting as if everything was normal. In the context of the inner turmoil with which I was dealing, his carefree attitude really irritated me.
I ignored him in a little show of my displeasure, but I am not sure he even noticed. We ate dinner. Mom complimented me on the pasta and garlic bread. Gary grunted agreement that it was good. After dinner, Mom retired to the family room with her drink. Gary escaped upstairs and I rinsed the dishes and stacked the dishwasher.
As I contemplated this morning’s events, I convinced myself that what Gary and I did was wrong, and it needed to stop. As appealing, exciting and enjoyable as this morning was, continuing a relationship with my stepbrother violated every rule in our society.
I freely admit, there was a part of me that wanted this torrid relationship to continue. Mixed with the shame and deep embarrassment of my sin, was the excitement of the memory of masturbating my stepbrother to orgasm, and climaxing myself while I did it. Part of me wanted to experience that again and again. But I knew it was wrong, and I committed to telling Gary we needed to prevent a recurrence. I was deeply conflicted.
I was still wearing my running clothes, and I had not washed since my run earlier in the day, so I was kind of 'grungy'.
I decided to take a shower for the second time today. I needed to clean up before discussing my thoughts with Gary. I also was considering not discussing this tonight but delaying the ‘talk’ until tomorrow.
Hell, I didn't know what I was going to do.
I went into the bathroom Gary and I shared. As I undressed, I studied myself in the mirror. I looked good. My breasts were firm, and my bright pink nipples were prominent and erect. I was developing a nice firm butt that in conjunction with my long legs, completed a very nice, athletic figure.
I was proud of my physical development. Despite knowing our physical relationship should stop, I really felt that Gary should appreciate how good his stepsister really looked. After all, I had responded very much to his naked form. I felt a bit insulted that he did not seem to recognize what an attractive woman I was becoming.
Our shower had a hand held ‘shower-pic massager’ that hung from the wall. I turned to dial to pulsating massage. The water pulsed against my breasts and a shoulders. It felt wonderful. I turned and allowed the pulsating jets to massage my neck and shoulders.
I heard the bathroom door open and close, and my pulse quickened as I stood motionless, listening intently to determine if anyone had entered the room. I heard the unmistakable sound of movement, and my heart pounded even more furiously in my chest.
I felt an anxious ache in my stomach as I questioned simply, “Gary?”, without looking outside the shower curtain.
“Yeah, Liz, it’s me.”
Gary paused and I waited silently for him to continue. I knew I should ask him to leave, but something stopped me. I just could not instruct him to exit the steamy bathroom at that moment. I just could not utter those words. I admit it; I wanted him to stay.
After an uncomfortable silence, Gary continued,“I just wanted to check on you and see how you are doing?”
“I am fine, I guess.”
There was a quiver in my voice that revealed my nervousness.
I continued, “I am a little freaked about this morning is all. I can’t believe we did that.”
“It was pretty incredible, and freaky” Gary agreed.
Then he slowly pulled to shower curtain back slightly, and peered in at me. He was wearing a pair of light grey gym shorts and t-shirt. The t-shirt highlighted his strong chest and arms. He was well on his way to becoming a very attractive man with an excellent physique.
I stood there, in all my glorious nakedness.
“Gary, we can’t be doing this. This is not right. You are my brother, well stepbrother. But it is still wrong.”
I made no attempt to cover myself, or to close the shower curtain,.
With my back towards him, and the water streaming down my shoulders and back, I stood there shamelessly, allowing Gary to study naked back and butt. I wanted him to see me this way.
My voice quivered as I spoke, “Gary, this morning was a mistake; a mistake we cannot repeat.”
I could actually feel his eyes scanning my naked form. I shut my eyes and let him look.
“Gary, you shouldn’t be in here with me.”
This was as close to asking him to leave as I could muster. But I did not want him to leave. I wanted him to look at me, I wanted him to see me with the same admiration and lust with which I looked at him this morning.
I turned to face him, allowing the water to strike my breasts and abdomen and run across my pelvis as he stared. My nipples were firmly erect, as was my clitoris. My vagina had a thin blond wisps of pubic hair that provided very little covering
I stood there, eyes closed. I was relishing exposing myself to my stepbrother in this shameless manner.
My face burned red with excitement, but I did not turn away.
“Damn, Liz, you are beautiful. You are smoking hot,” Gary said with the proper appreciation in his voice. His reaction, his validation was precisely what I was seeking, what I needed.
“You shouldn’t be looking at your sister like this,” I said, but did nothing to stop this visual exchange. I was growing increasing aroused under his gaze.
"Stepsister," he corrected me.
"That's not really the point, is it?"
I glanced at the front of his gym pants, and I could plainly see his erection growing before my eyes. His penis was making a large tent out of the cotton material, pulling it taut as his rising erection strained against the confines of his shorts. I could see it pulse and grow as we talked, and as his eyes devoured my naked body. It pleased me greatly that he was aroused by the sight of me. His physical reaction excited me. His growing erection fueled my own arousal.
My resolve to avoid a repeat of the morning was rapidly evaporating as I allowed Gary to look at my naked body and grow aroused in the process.
Gary then reached over and took the shower massager from its hanger on the wall, and directed it at my chest. I stepped forward slightly. I know I should have stopped this while I still had some ability to do so; but I could not seem to resist this carnal temptation.
Painfully slowly, in a teasing manner, Gary began lowering the pulsating jet down, slowly bringing it across my abdomen, and then lower still to my very fine, blond pubic hair. God, I was aroused. When the jet reached my clitoris, I shuttered and moaned before pulling away.
“Oh shit, Gary. That is intense!”
“Spread your legs slightly for me,” Gary instructed as he lowered the jet again, this time he was wedging the pulsing unit between my legs to jet up against my vaginal opening and clitoris.
“Gary, I can’t do that. We can’t be doing this,” I protested. But as I made my protest, I did precisely what Gary asked, I opened my legs and allowed him to hold the handle between my thighs, jetting up at my aroused clitoris. I did not want him to stop or to leave. I needed this emotional contact.
Spreading my legs slightly to allow him to place the pulsating handle between them, I felt a bit unsteady on my feet in the slippery tub. I grabbed the shower curtain in one hand and balanced myself against the shower wall with the other as I allowed the pulsating jet to stimulate me in a manner that I could not have imagined moments before.
“Oh shit, Gary, …..so intense….”
I was having difficulty speaking as the water stimulated me. I pulled back again from the intensity of the jets on my clitoris.
Gary stepped forward a bit to move the jet closer to its targets. The pulsating jet formed a spray that was soaking Gary's gym pants and shirt. The light grey material of his shorts was turning darker as it became wetter. But Gary did not seem to be concerned about his wet clothes.
I started to pull back again as the stimulation on my clitoris was becoming too much to endure.
“Don’t move away. Stand still.”
Gary was not making a request, he was giving me an order. His dominant approach only added to my excitement, and his dominant approach seemed to absolve me of my culpability slightly. He was my younger stepbrother, but he was giving me orders and I was complying. I reasoned that I was not actually initiating any of this myself.
“Oh, Jesus Gary, I don’t know if I can take this. It is too much,” I moaned, squatting down and spreading my legs wider against the powerful pulsating jet.
“Don’t move. Let the water work,” Gary commanded with an authority that I had not heard before.
I wanted to pull away, to give my very sensitive clitoris a moment's break from the intense pulsating jet. However, something deep inside my core wanted to comply with Gary’s instructions. As I squatted further to open myself up for the jet to work its magic. I could feel the beginning of a climax starting to build.
I was afraid I would slip or topple over as I rocked my hips back and forth. My hips were humping involuntarily against the steady stream of stimulation. I reached out with both hands to steady myself on Gary’s shoulders.
Using Gary to steady myself, I felt more confident in squatting more deeply, opening myself up more fully, exposing myself to the pressure of the jet on my erect clitoris. In this position, the water was pulsingTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
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