Obsession

“Are you always this forward with men?”

“Only the ones I dislike.”

“I knew you hated me.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Tilly smoothes her hands across my chest and down to my belly, daring herself to dip them even lower beyond the waistband of my pants. My cock is throbbing against the fabric, and I know she wants to see it. She’s sat on the edge of the bed while I’m stood by the side of it, the double mattress raising her up to the perfect height. Tilly guides her eyes from my cock up to my own, as though asking for my permission.

“Take a look, Tilly. It’s better than the magazines.”

Now she dares herself to run her fingers along the edge of it, tracing the form the bulge makes in my pants.

“It may be big, but do you know how to use it?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

“I’m not that easy.”

With a deft flick of the wrist, which makes me think she’s much more experienced than she looks, she has my pants open.

“Good. I like a challenge.”

With hungry eyes, and a pose that puts her close enough to kiss me if she wanted to, she eases my pants down towards my ankles and then sits up on the bed when she’s done, her legs spread so her dress falls open enough that I can see her panties, her head tilted to the side to admire me, reflected perfectly in the strap that has slipped over her shoulder to reveal the upper half of her breast.

“Are you going to show me how much?”

“I will if you take your clothes off.”

“I thought you were the one that wanted to get naked, and besides which, I already told you I’m not that easy.”

They are neither the red panties nor the ones she was wearing this morning, but it doesn’t matter either way. I want to admire her in them and tear them off her in equal measure. I want to show her what she doesn’t what to allow herself to admit to wanting.

“I’m waiting.”

She’d wait all day too, and she knows I know it. I’m the one that isn’t able to resist. Usually I get girls demanding it from me, not the other way round. If I walked out of here, chances are she wouldn’t chase me, but I’m not going to do that anyway. I’m going to give her what she’s asking for, because in doing so I get what I want. I’m going to make her unable to resist me because at the moment I feel like she’s doing everything in her power and succeeding in making me unable to resist her.

I’ve had a lot of girls in my life, and a lot of sex, but little experience that compares to this one. Tilly is my step-sister, and I know there is a good chance we shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this anyway because I’m sworn off it, but there is something about her that just makes it impossible for me not to. It could be the way she looks, or the way she’s sitting, or the fact I shouldn’t, or the fact she wants it but won’t admit to it, or that I’m falling deeper than I ever have before, or for all of those reasons and others that I can’t even comprehend, but whatever is happening, it’s happening right now, to both of us, and there is no way we can avoid it even if we wanted to.

“Alright, you asked for it.”

Tilly bites her lip. She holds her breath and I watch her pupils dilate. As I lock both thumbs into my waistband and peel my boxer shorts slowly over my rock hard dick, she can’t help but squeal with excitement.

Tilly

I can’t believe this is happening, but it is. Oh my Christ it is. I know I have my hand over my mouth, and I know my eyes are as big as dinner plates. It is the biggest dick I have ever seen. The magazines didn’t lie, the column inches didn’t underestimate it, Landon Maddox is seriously well hung. Only it’s not hanging right now, it’s pulsing, like it has its own heartbeat.

I think I’m gurgling with excitement. It could be a squeal and it could be a mating call. Whatever it is, I’m horny, and I want that thing inside me so quickly, I don’t have enough time to regret it.

“Well?”

My eyes go from his dick across his chest and up to his face. He’s smiling proudly, but why wouldn’t you? One of the most talented, most beautiful, most arrogant men in the world just had to be given a huge dong, didn’t he?

“Yes.”

My answer makes no sense, but I’m not really responding to the question he’s just put to me, more the question he’s been putting to me for the last four days. Yes. I agree. I can’t resist anymore. I want you. It. I want that inside me.

“You can do more than just look at it if you want.”

I nod.

“And when you’re done, you can show me yours.”

If you had told me a year ago, before Mom met Marvin, before they got married and before Landon became my stepbrother, that he would be stood at the edge of my bed, not only naked but hard enough to push a hole in the wall if he wanted to, close enough for me to reach out and pull him towards me, to place the head of his cock in my mouth and for me to roll my tongue over it, to taste him and pleasure him and allow myself to do anything I wanted, I would have looked at you like you were crazy.

I dreamt about all of those things, and I still do. I masturbate to fantasies of this exact scenario and now here I am, with him, alone, together, whatever you want to call it and I can no longer hold myself back, regardless of the consequences.

Suddenly energized, I jolt myself out of stun mode and edge towards the treasure. A moment later, I’m pressing Landon’s swollen crown against the roof of my mouth with a spade shaped tongue.

The Donkey. This is the man that has stolen the hearts of a thousand women, and here he is in a position of complete and utter sensitivity, at my behest and in my complete control. I rake his cock against my teeth, just to remind him that I can, if I want to, inflict both pleasure and pain. He likes it, of course, so I do it again, biting down gently on his tumescent meat, mostly because I can’t resist it.

I am one of those girls who could orgasm sucking cock. I read about them from time to time in glossy magazines and on forums and websites. It’s never happened, but not because I can’t do it, more because I’ve never sucked a good enough cock to allow it. Landon has all the qualities to make it happen and while I work his cock in and out of my mouth, my tongue licking and flicking and teasing and testing his secret zones of utter sensitivity, I feel tingles climb through my skin and my pussy pulse in greedy desire.

I look up to see Landon watching. This must be the ultimate fantasy for men, but it’s pretty good from my end too. He has his hands on his hips, but I wouldn’t mind at all if he put them on my head, pulled my hair a little bit or pushed me down onto his cock. I guess he’s playing the gentleman, keen not to push his luck too much, or ruin what he’s obviously worked hard to achieve in the first place.

I slap him against my tongue, run him against my lips until they vibrate so much they are itchy, and swallow him as deeply as I can manage, which feels deep to me, but turns out not to be all that deep at all.

His moans tell me exactly what he likes me doing, and the more that I do it, the more turned on we both get.

Landon finally moves one hand from his hip to run through my hair. He traces the vein down the side of my neck and then runs his fingertips over the top of my clavicle. When he gets to the strap of my dress, he flicks it casually across my shoulder.

“Take it off”, he orders.

I take his cock out of my mouth and look up to him with wide eyes. I give him several flirty flicks of my eyelashes and smile. Still holding him I bite my neck and then squeeze, hard, just to test his resistance, to channel my energy momentarily. Landon buckles forward and pushes me with him into the bed.

He’s coming for me, and the hunger I can see in his eyes tells me he’s not going to stop.

“I said, take it off.”

There is a zip at the back, but he’s not going to use it.

“You take it off.”

Strong arms push my legs wide at the inner thigh. I feel a tug while he gathers up a handful of fabric and lifts i

t up, across my belly, up to my chest. I’m still biting my lip, wondering how he’s going to de-robe me, enjoying every second of this battle to break me out of my clothes, like a young boy might a Christmas toy out of its sparkly wrapping.

I refuse to lift my arms up to help him, because I love the attention he’s giving me. It doesn’t stop him for long. I’m twisted, turned, tickled, manipulated, caressed and cajoled into giving myself over to him, and when Landon has achieved what he came over here to do, the dress is nothing but a pile of fabric at the bottom of the bed, the present now firmly in his grasp.

Rough hands sweep over my body, testing the sensitivity of my smooth and delicate skin. Talented fingers of precision that dance their way from one rib to the next, pirouetting expertly around the bra I have worn especially to please him, never thinking I’d ever get the chance, up over my neck, where they brave a squeeze momentarily and I secretly desire more, out across my shoulders, down my arms to tickle my inner elbow and eventually back again, across and around my belly button, the waistband to the panties I’ve selected carefully for the moment I never thought would come and onwards, teasingly, telling me everything we both now know about exactly what it is we want.