TITLE    : Big Brother's Bride
STORYID  : big-brothers-bride
SUMMARY  : Mix-up leads to encounter with brother's soon-to-be wife.
AUTHOR   : blueboar@lit
DATE     : 2001-09-03
CATEGORY : erotic-couplings
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |none|


She was everywhere. Everywhere I turned, she was there. Now, she was standing next to me in her parents' back yard, asking whether I wanted anything to eat. At first, I thought it was cute, a just graduated high schooler with a crush on an `older' man, but, after the second day it became really annoying. It was annoying because my whole family had flown to St. Louis for my older brother's wedding and they teased me incessantly about my new `girlfriend.' I was twenty-one, had a girlfriend of sorts in college and didn't want to think about high school girls. In fact, I didn't want to think about high school at all. I hated it and this girl was like the epitome of everything I hated about high school. She was a cheerleader, lots of lipstick and eye-shadow, big hair, up to speed on the latest Brad Pitt romance and, well, pretty much a dingbat, kind of a less well developed replica of her older sister, the woman my brother was going to marry the next day.



Me? I wanted the ideal, perfect world of Plato, where artists, philosophers and sensitive people controlled things and made sure everyone was happy. A high school cheerleader simply didn't fit into that world-view. Hell. Sex, itself, was irrelevant.



"What's wrong with her, Kenny?" my older brother asked after she'd walked away blushing wildly when she saw him approaching us.



"She's just graduated high school, Steve," I replied.



"Big deal. She's three years younger than you. So what?"



"I have a girlfriend, remember?"



"You call that disaster a girlfriend, idiot?" he laughed. "Christ. She wears black lipstick. She's a loon, way out there, man."



"I don't want to talk about it," I said rolling my eyes. Steve and women? Mr. Misogynist, himself? By all means, just the guy to ask for advice.



He smiled and leaned forward. "You haven't even fucked her, have you, you little faggot?" he whispered.



"None of your God damn business," I replied, swiping my long hair out of my face.



He laughed. "Forget about it. You're hopeless," he waived me away and walked back to his beautiful bride-to-be.



That was my older brother. He was handsome. Well over six feet, maybe six-two, just a little taller than I. But that's where the resemblance ended in a crash. In white khaki shorts and light blue shirt, looking like the biggest preppy asshole, Steve and I were completely different when it came to sensibilities. Mr. Frat Boy, investment banker marrying a rich sorority girl with lots of family connections. He and his fiance's family made me want to vomit.



* * *



"You think she's pretty don't you?" Ashley snipped at me, as I stood watching the tents going up an hour later in the new bride's backyard.



I turned to Ashley, and shook my head. She had a bikini top on and tight cut-offs. Go and find a cat and strangle it, I wanted to tell her. And who the fuck names their kid Ashley? What kind of sick shit is that?



Ashley. Brittany. Brook. Housewives with way too much daytime TV on their hands. "What did you say?" I glared at her.



"You think my sister's prettier than me, don't you?" she pouted. I looked over to her sister and couldn't help but agree. Stacey was in short-shorts, too, with half her firm ass sticking out, and her big tits swayed and jiggled as she pointed this way and that, directing the lifting and lugging of lots of poles. I smiled. She looked perfect for that kind of job. And then I shook my head. What a sexist thing to say! My creepy older brother was having a bad influence on me. I shook my head once more. I wondered where Steve had gone. Since we'd arrived, he hadn't left his bride-to-be's side. Maybe he'd come to his senses and was looking for a gun to shoot himself with.



I looked at Ashley, still standing next to me, staring at me with a determined look on her face. Her and her sister? Well, they were both blond, both blue-eyed and where eighteen-year-old Ashley was tall and a little stringy, twenty-five year old Stacey was tall and curvy. Shit. Steve sure knew how to pick them. Had to give him credit on the purely physical tests. Stacey was the perfect woman if only she didn't open her big annoying trap. There! I'd done it again. More sexist crap floating in my head. I blamed the heat.



"Well," the brat persisted.



"Much," I sneered.



"What?" she gasped.



"Your sister is much prettier than you," I smiled and walked away from her, leaving her with her pretty little mouth gaping open. What a joke.



And so fucking hot, this city, I thought as I shook my shirt to give myself a little more air. Christ. Mid-June and miserable. St. Louis. Where was the crisp beauty of late spring for these people? How did they survive? 98 degrees. Arch? Gateway to the West? Turn back, idiots. Go back east to New England. If my advice had been followed 150 years ago, I would be standing in a prairie not some obscene artificially plush perfectly manicured lawn.



I walked up to my mother who was standing beside the old man, both of them grinning dumbly at the workers pounding the stakes into the thick green grass. And it struck me, everyone had been watching the poor guys working for the last two hours without lifting a hand to help them. Sure, Stacey had directed and cheered them on, and I'm sure most of them appreciated her jiggling tits and tight ass nearby, but the poor guys looked like they were dying, drenched in sweat. We were all so fucking bourgeoisie.



"Kenny," my mom smiled when she saw me.



I nodded. I hated it when my mother wore shorts. Put some clothes on, I wanted to tell her and her varicose veins. What was it with all these people and shorts? Christ, it was hot.



"Having fun? Isn't this exciting?" she continued smiling.



"A blast."



"You could at least pretend to be happy, Kenny," the old man said serenely and lit his pipe.



I shook my head. Asshole. "I'm going back to the hotel, mom."



"Why dear?"



"Too hot."



"Well, I suppose," she began--



"Put on some shorts for Christ's sake," the old man blurted, puffing away.



I extended my hand. "Please give me the keys."



The old man shook his head. "Junior took the car," he said proudly, always referring to his favorite son as `Junior'. "Went to get some ice for tonight."



"Give me the keys to the other rental, then."



"We should have one car here at all times," he puffed away.



"Mom!"



"I'm sorry dear. I must agree with your father here," Mom smiled.



I shook my head, sweating, certain I was five minutes from a heat stroke.



"Just go inside, Kenny," Mom grinned pleasantly. "Nice and cool in there."



Nice and cool and nowhere to escape Ashley, the high-school nightmare.



"He's afraid little Ashley'll corner him and maybe give him a little kiss on the cheek," the old man guffawed.



"Steven!" Mom slapped him stupidly. The two of them were making me sick. "You're embarrassing Kenny. We shouldn't tease him about these sorts of things. Kenny might. . . ." but I heard no more as I walked away from them and headed for the big house.



* * *



Rich fuckers had a nice house, I thought as I wondered here and there. Jesus, probably three times as big as our house. Mental note. Don't become an accountant. Become a garbage man. Stacey's father ran what he called a "waste management company." I kept telling Steve he was marrying into a garbage family, but he didn't think it was funny and I shut up after he threatened to pummel my face in. I liked my face.



I walked into what was must have been some den or something, deep in the caverns of the house, sat down on an old comfortable chair and turned on the TV. I was feeling better. A little more cool. Maybe if I could hide out in here for the rest of the day, I'd survive the ordeal. God. It had to cool down a little by tomorrow. I was certain I'd pass out in the tuxedo in the heat. I smiled to myself. That would be funny. Maybe ruin the whole fuckin' wedding. Junior and the old man holding their shaking heads over my lifeless body, wondering whether mom had fooled around with the postman or something twenty-two years ago. Mom and Stacey screeching and pointing this way and that as the paramedics brought out their defibrillator. CLEAR! CHARGE! ZAP! And my torso would be flopping about like a dying fish. The video guy would get it all. I could enter it into some World's Funniest Video show or something, maybe make a few thousand. . . .



"What are you doing in here?" a woman's voice asked annoyed.



I looked over and saw Stacey bright blond face glaring at me.



I pointed to the TV, told her to go fuck herself under my breath and turned back around.



"You're an exceptionally annoying individual, do you know that?" she continued behind me.



I wasn't listening.



"Look at me when I speak to you, young man. You've been very rude to my younger sister," she said, her voice starting to strain.



I laughed. Young man. Fuck. Sweets. You're four years older than me in age and at least a dozen years younger in brains.



I heard walking and she was in front of me.



"Oh," she looked down at me, her arms crossed and squashing up marvelously her big tits. "I know your kind all right. Your sort thinks everything's a big joke. You don't take anything seriously. Do you want to know why?"



This was too funny. The problem was that I did take everything seriously and this idiot had no clue. When I took over things, when the philosophers ran the world, she and her type would have to be dealt with appropriately. I'd. . . . Christ. I stared at her smooth muscular tan legs. Fuck. Those thighs. To have those things clamped down on you, giving you the death grip. Mother of mercy.



Lucky asshole, Steve.



Debbie, my girlfriend in college was nothing like this. Her body was never exposed other than in the bedroom and then it was only for a silent, quick fuck before she went off again with her talk about some injustice here and a great cause there. We'd lost our cherries to one another last semester (yeah, I know!) and since then, throughout the school year, although I'd struggled not to, I couldn't help wondering whether that was all there was to fucking. There had to be more. I mean, Debbie didn't have tits like this biscuit's and . . . . "Are you listening?" her voice asked, sounding a thousand miles away. I was fixed at the beautiful tightly compressed "V" between her thighs. Christ. Under there, what did she have on. Debbie liked to wear torn old grandma undies--very functional she said-- and. . . . This chick must be wearing a thong. Oh God, and what would her cunt. . . .



I heard a slight gasp as she finally realized where I was gazing. I looked up to the now reddening face.



"I can't believe you," she said. "You're disgusting." She huffed out the room.



I laughed. I'd found the secret of getting rid of these annoying people from St. Louis. Gawk at them. Stare at their tits and cunts. That would do the trick. I loved it. Junior? Fuck him. I would tell him, I was getting over heat flashes and could barely speak when Stacey'd walked into the room. She'd confused the empty dumb stares of a half-dead man for something pure innocent me didn't even want to think about. The wedding might be fun, I thought. After all, what could be more entertaining than annoying plastic fake people, making them uncomfortable? That would keep them away. Still . . . mental note. Try to get out a little this semester. Check out some big- haired bimbo and fuck yourself dry for a few weeks. Debbie was too good a friend to be fucking, anyway. What are you babbling about you idiot? Christ, I needed some fresh air. 



Sex is a purely reproductive act, which should be strictly regulated by the state to ensure the betterment of man.



* * *



And, like clockwork, good old Steve (Junior, that is) threatened me with extreme and immediate violence until I gave him my story, telling him he was a sick fuck for thinking that I'd been lusting after his lovely soon-to-be wife. Dumbass bought it, of course, and I smiled at Stacey the rest of the evening, over the soup, the huge slab of beef, which I barely touched, and even the ice cream. My future sister-in-law tried to avoid my smile this way and that, but by the end of the meal, her face looked flush and she was anything but her cheery self. Ashley I noticed was becoming more and more upset. I couldn't ask for more. Everything was wonderful.



After dinner, everyone decided they were going to go to an old hotel downtown for drinks and a little relaxation before the special day. I told them I was a tired and stayed at the big house. I noticed, not with a little pleasure, that everyone, but most especially Stacey, seemed relieved that I wasn't coming along.



I went into the old den (I was now thinking of it as my personal little sanctuary in the miserable house), plopped down on a couch and turned on the TV. Christ. TV sucked. David Kelley should be shot, drawn and quartered. I started switching the channels. Nothing. I closed my eyes.



Debbie. She was cool, so fun to hang out with, so similar in her political views, but. . . She just didn't like sex. At least with me. I think she thought it was some kind of betrayal of her identity. I was a white guy, after all. Where was the justice in fucking me? And I'd tried so I couldn't blame myself, entirely. She had an okay body. Kind of plump. Small tits. None of that bothered me. She wouldn't let me lick her. She wouldn't suck on me. It was a straight missionary, her thighs barely open. Christ. Sometimes, I couldn't even get it all the way in because her thighs were so rigid. I would come into the condom and then she would, with a trembling voice, tell me to pull out and make sure nothing spilled. I doubted Steve used a rubber with Stacey. Stacey probably did anything you wanted. She probably fucked you like a wild animal. Christ, she probably took it up the ass. Ahhh. Fuck it. 



Why was I saw fixed on sex these days? I had to get back to school, back to some protests. I yawned and stretched. It was just sex. There were a lot more important things in this world. Fuck it.



And then I must have taken a nap because the next thing I knew my hand was in my baggy pants and grabbing my erect cock, the image of Stacey's thighs emblazoned in my mind. Fuck. I squeezed myself. I looked at the TV. Shit. I stretched my arms out and yawned trying to come to my senses. I must have been napping for about an hour. Fuck. I quickly jerked my hand out of my pants. That would be nice. Stacey's mom coming into the room and my hand down my pants. Really nice. No. They had about an hour or so to go. Oh. Shit. I was still hard. I looked around, listened intently and determined after about two or three seconds no one was around.



What would she be like in bed, the jiggling, bouncing blond Stacey? What harm was there in fantasizing? She and Steve would be in New York after a week-long honeymoon somewhere in the Caribbean. I'd probably see them once or twice a year after that for a few years before their divorce. I started unbuckling my pants. I smiled. How cool would it be to beat off and spew everything on this old couch? It would be a good thing, kind of a thank you gift to the kind hosts.



Stacey. Those thighs, those silky smooth thighs. So tanned and firm. I pulled down my pants and struggled a little, but finally got my boxers off. I looked down. Shit. I was so hard. I grabbed myself, trying to imagine her naked. I couldn't. Debbie's pale face kept entering my thoughts. Could I beat off to Debbie? Kind of ruin the whole point of doing it in Stacey's house. Try to think about her earlier in the day, standing over you, her tits pressed against her crossed arms, those shorts, creeping up into her. What! I jerked my hand off my cock. Fuck!



"Thinking about Stacey?" a bratty voice sneered.



jumped and fell off the couch, with a thud, my poor hard cock crushed underneath me.



The idiot was standing at the doorway laughing.



I tried to pull up my pants, but it wasn't going well. I didn't want to stand up, obviously, and she continued looking down at my crumbled body, grinning.



"What are you doing here?" I whispered up at her, my pants halfway on.



"I decided I didn't want to go, you know?"



Decided you didn't want to go? What the fuck was that? Shit. I continued trying to pull up my pants.



"How long were you watching?"



"Long enough," she giggled.



"Look," I sighed. "I'm really sorry." There. The pants were on. I started standing up, feverishly trying to button and zip up. "Can we just keep this a secret between the two of us?"



She looked wonderful, smiling smugly straight at me. She'd changed into a short summer dress for dinner and still had it on. The thing hung well on her. Get your mind out of the gutter, dumbass. You're screwed. She was crossing her arms, like her sister had done, and her tits were squashed just like her sister's had been. Must run in the family, this squashing of the tits business. And then she slowly, confidently, shook her head.



"Why not?" I pleaded buckling my belt.



"Because you've been a real creep," she said.



"Come on," I moaned. "Have a heart." Good one, I thought. Miller's Crossing. Coen brothers. I would plead and beg like John Turturro in Miller's Crossing.



"I don't think so," she grinned.



"You're going to get me in a lot of trouble and that wouldn't--"



"I don't care," she interrupted. "You've been nothing but a real asshole since you got here and I think you deserve whatever you get."



"What do you want me to do? We're friends, aren't we?" I begged.



"It's too late," she said sharply.



"For what?" Too late for what. Fuck. It would have been better to have had my mom catch me playing with myself . . . maybe not my mom, but just about anyone other than this idiot.



"You don't even like me anyway," she said sounding very sad, but I could see in her eyes she was anything but.



"Look. I'm sorry about everything. You're right. I've been an idiot. I just was trying to play a little hard to get. That's all. I really like you." You're on a roll, Kenny. Keep it up.



"You're lying," she said after thinking it over for five seconds. I wasn't doing well at all. "Besides, you think Stacey's prettier than me."



I forced some weak laughter out, trying to make her see it was all a big misunderstanding. "Are you crazy?" I grinned. "You're a lot more attractive than Stacey. Stacey looks like. . . ." Come on. Something good. I could see her waiting, pleased we were on the attack Stacey mode. "She looks like a fat slob compared to you." Maybe a 2.3 for effort. God. I was fucked. I held my breath.



She smiled. I sighed, relieved. And then the smile left her and I held my breath again. "You're not lying?" she asked, after a moment.



"No. No. God. If you were a little older, I'd. . . ." You'd what idiot? What would you do? "I'd ask you out in a second." 1.7 for just trying under somewhat difficult conditions. Otherwise, a clear crash and burn. But I'd overestimated the brat.



She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Oh brother," she smirked. "I don't want to go out with you. I have a boyfriend. He's a football player and a lot better looking than you."



My head was spinning. No. I'd underestimated her. What the fuck is this garbage from the garbage man's younger daughter? "Why have you been, you know, following me around, then?" I asked, a little annoyed. Little wench had been leading me on.



She shrugged. "I don't know. You know, wedding and everything. I thought it would be kind of romantic to fool around with you."



"Fool around with me?"



"Yeah."



"Why?"



"Because you're Steve's brother."



I nodded. Now I understood everything. She could not care less about me. It was Steve she wanted to hang out with, but, well, he was getting married in less than twenty-forty hours. Me? I was a really weak replica, a cheap and really bad quality imitation. And then I laughed. She was fantasizing about my older brother. I was doing the same with her older sister. Good clean stuff. I was beginning to like this kid.

<hr pg="2" />"And you thought by fooling around with me, you'd, you know, get a little closer to Steve, right?"



She nodded, smiling broadly. Not even an ounce of embarrassment or discomfort. Tough kid. I guess you had to be if you're old man. . . . Enough with the garbageman. I looked at her again. She was really quite pretty. A little thin, but with all the marvelous trappings of a woman, no question about it. Christ. She had nice, long legs. A nice, firm little ass. What the fuck, you know?



"So what kind of fooling around did you have in mind, Ashley?" I grinned dumbly, a little surprised I was being so obvious in my leering.



"You know," she blushed for the first time.



"No. I don't know," I continued grinning. Flirting was fun, I realized. I should have picked it up as a habit a long time ago.



"You know, fooling around." "Would fooling around include me taking my pants off?" I asked and started unbuckling my pants. I would play this little brat's bluff. Whatever happened, it would be hilarious.



"Maybe," she smiled as they fell to the floor.



Maybe? She wasn't teasing. Hilarious. "Would it include taking my underwear off?" I continued slowly, teasing my boxers down a bit.



She grinned. The underwear were off in a swipe.



"That doesn't hurt in trying to fool around, I suppose" she replied staring at my hardening cock. What the fuck? She'd seen it already, right?



"This's about all the fooling around, I can do myself, Ashley," I said softly and started stroking my cock to full erection. And as I felt myself lengthening, I was amazed at how easily I'd taken my clothes off in front of this kid. Christ. Usually, something like this was a major undertaking. And then I understood. The little brat's sluttiness was wearing off on me. I was becoming like her. A dingbat. It was kind of nice.



She licked her lips and looked at me hungrily and it became obvious my hard dick wasn't the first in her tender eighteen years, although it should have been. It pissed me off. What was wrong with these kids these days? Christ. Debbie and I had waited until we were twenty-one (yeah, I know) to have sex.



This girl? She didn't bat an eyelid as I started straining against my hand. Instead, she started walking toward me and my body began shaking. Christ. Fun and games seemed to be coming to an end. This idiot was for real. Get a hold of yourself.



She was right in front of me. I took a deep breath as she reached downand grabbed me as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her. She smiled and leaned forward and kissed me. As my lips met hers, my mind did several back flips. She was so sweet and smelled so nice in some perfume she'd probably stolen from her older sister.



YOU ARE THE IDIOT!



The realization slammed into the back of my head like a house exploding in an F-5 mile-wide tornado. You were an idiot, my mind screamed and my cock jerked in joy. Why the fuck didn't you get your hands on something warm and soft and nice smelling like this in high school. But n-o-o-o-o. You were the big intellectual idiot, reading Plato and making fun of all of the jocks and their hangers on. No one was good enough for you. God her tongue was wet and her breath . . . Who in their right mind doesn't want to fuck one of the busty, bubbly cheerleaders? Good God. I quickly pulled my cock away from her massaging fingers. Close. I almost blew it.



She backed away slightly and smiled at me.



"You're not a virgin, are you?" she smiled.



"Yeah right," I breathed heavily, my voice quivering betraying the truth. "I've slept with a lot of women."



"A lot?" she continued smiling and grabbed my cock again.



"Just one," I moaned weakly as she started stroking me. "My girlfriend. The one I told you about ten minutes after we met."



She nodded, still smiling. "I can only imagine," she said and started lowering herself to her knees.



I looked down and gulped in a huge gasp of air as I felt and then saw her lips tenderly wrapping themselves around my swollen pink cock-head. She caressed and licked the poor thing with her tongue. It was too much. My first blow-job in my life and it's from some chick that just graduated from high school. I pushed her away.



She looked up, those blue eyes sparkling. "It's okay,' she said softly. "I don't mind. Go ahead" I took a deep breath and nodded. An invitation to come in her mouth? This should not be happening. She pulled me into her mouth again, but this time with a much more intense urgency. I groaned. Jesus. Deeper. She was taking me into her throat, her soft widening throat. Instinctively, I tried pushing in a little more. She gagged and jerked her face away and my wet shining cock was left bobbing in front of her. She heaved a bit and looked up. She tried to smile, her eyes watering.



"Too big," she grinned and then leaned forward once more, bravely starting with the sucking routine again. The girl had spirit, I thought. The girl really. . . . Oh. Fuck. This was incredible. Come on, don't. The tingling began. I simply could not help it. She felt my cock jerk and sucked it in more tightly, deeper into the back of her throat. Oh no. Fuck. Her warm, wet tongue pressed hard on the underside of my cock.



No retching this time. She had something to prove. Oh shit. I clenched and strained. No. Shit. I was there and clenched my fists as tightly as I could by my sides to try to not scream out.



My body tightened and then violently convulsed.



There. Oh. Shit. She gulped automatically and another and another. Huge streams seemed to be spitting out of me. Jesus. I could feel her gulping frantically down deep in her throat. Mother. Smaller, barely there, pulses. A little one. A dribble. And a tiny finale. She continued sucking hard. It was burning. It hurt. Fuck. The burning. I heaved and gasped in as much air as possible into my lungs.



She slowly pulled away from my length and the sight was unbelievable as more and more of glistening red cock gently stroked out of her lips. With a soft pop I was out. She looked up, her eyes a little dazed, her lips puffy, red and smeared as if splattered with hot butter. My softening cock, red and slimy, bobbed with my heart beat under her chin.



Jesus.



FUCK PLATO!



"Like that?" she breathed, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue.



I nodded and swallowed trying to catch my breath.



She looked at my softening cock and smiled. "You got a real nice one. Big and thick," she said, gently patting it. "Really nice. God. I'm so hot. Let's fuck."



My knees buckled, but she was standing up a little shakily and I reached to steady her to her feet. Both of us were a little woozy. We smiled at each other and she brought her face close to mine, but all I could see were her buttery lips, two huge buttery lips streaked with my spunk. I tried to back away, but it was too late. We were kissing softly and then a little more deeply and I could taste my bitterness in her mouth. We released each other and she smiled, her mouth a little less buttery, mine a bit more so, and she took my hand and brought it to her left tit. I squeezed, surprised at its fullness. She was nice. Christ. This felt a lot larger, firmer, than Debbie's. Fuck.



"Should we go to your room?" I asked, massaging her right tit now. It seemed like a good idea. Fucking her in the den would be pretty kinky, but the idiots would be here any minute.



She nodded and I reluctantly dropped her tit and pulled up my boxers and pants and followed her out of the room, staring at her delightful bouncing ass and lean long back, barely covered by the spaghetti straps of the light summer dress. This would be nice, so fucking nice. No. I'd never seen Debbie's bare back. And then I stopped myself. Should I cheat on Debbie? We were such good friends and I really liked her and what did sex matter anyway. . . .



Are you nuts? I wanted to slap myself. FUCK PLATO!.



As we started up the stairs, we heard people walking into the house. My heart sank. Oh. Fuck. Why? My luck was the worst. Shit. Shit. And as the voices grew louder I turned to see Ashley quickly applying lip stick to her lips, quickly put the make up away and she smiled, looking fresher than ever.



My parents, her parents, Steve and Stacey--the whole gawd awful gang--smiled surprised when they saw us.



"What have we here?" Stacey grinned at the two of us.



"Just showing Kenny the house," Ashley replied smiling brightly.



"I bet you were," Stacey laughed.



"That's enough from you, young lady," their mother interrupted her. "Leave the children alone."



"That's right," Ashley laughed and ran to her mother and kissed her hard on the cheek. I groaned inside. From my spewing cock to her mother's wrinkled, but heavily make-upped cheek.



"You leave us kids alone," she said, grinning up at me.



* * *



My parents went to the hotel alone that night. Delighted, Stacey's parents said they had plenty of room for me to stay over. Steve, of course, had been staying in the house for almost a week. Big houses are nice. Lots of rooms. Everyone would have their own room and we would all be one big, happy family.



"My room," Ashley was telling me, as she was showing me around the second floor in preparation for our little rendezvous, "is right here." I looked as she opened the door. Very nice. A quick hop and jump from mine, two doors away. We continued walking, strolling in the hallway.



"My parents' room is on the other side of the house and Stacey's room is right here, next to mine, but I can't open the door because she doesn't like me doing that."



I nodded. Made sense. Who would want a vixen like this Ashley rummaging about in their room? She'd find a dildo and suffocate herself. Her parents would find her the next morning with a pleased look in her eyes and huge black dildo stuffed deep in her throat. Fuck. I certainly wouldn't want her in my room, unless, of course, she walked in naked and I was in bed holding my hard dick waiting for her.



"Besides," she grinned, "I think she's locked herself in there so Steve can't get in," and then she leaned over and whispered into my ear, tickling it. "She told me she hasn't slept with him this whole month so that their wedding night will be real special."



What! Fuck the wedding night. I was surprised my older brother was being so flaky. So not like him. So like me. God. To have a video tape of those two going at it. There are few people I would pay to watch having sex, but my athletic older brother and the voluptuous Stacey would be two such people. I turned to Ashley. Her firm tits seemed to be smiling up at me for a touch. Oh. She would do fine. It would be a treat finally to fuck someone who didn't just lie on her back like a rag doll.



* * *



At about two in the morning I stepped out of my comfortable room, feeling a bit nervous, but mostly eager. I had on a bathrobe and tiptoed down the carpeted hallway. And then. . . .



I jumped. Jesus Christ.



"What the hell are you doing?" my older brother was hissing at me, his hand on the doorknob of Ashley's room. The sick fuck. What was he doing trying to get into her room? He was waiting for my response. 



"Bathroom," I replied weakly.



"Bathroom, my ass," he smiled. "You've got your own toilet in your room."



"Oh."



He laughed softly and then motioned toward the door behind him, Stacey's door. "Gonna get a little, bro?" he grinned. What kind of sick shit. . . Wait. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Idiot Ashley had given me the wrong room, or she wanted to humiliate me entirely or. . . . Fuck.



I shook my head quickly. "No. I . . . " and then I turned tail and walked back into my room. Fucking asshole, I thought as I closed the door behind me. Scumbag, motherfucker. Guy had no class. And then my mind screamed. Simply go to her real room. There was obviously a big mix- up. Ashley looked more than ready to screw an hour or so ago. Okay. Fuck him. Fuck her. Really fuck her. So what if he knows? Fuck him. I took a deep breath and opened the door again and gingerly stepped out once more.



The hallway was empty. Okay. Everything's cool. I stopped by what I knew now was really Stacey's room and pressed my ear to the door. I heard clearly the sound of two people moaning and kissing each other deeply.



Nice. So much for the special wedding night. I walked quickly to Ashley's door and opened it. It was dark. I stepped in and shut the door behind me. Very dark. I couldn't see anything except the lumpy figure of a person in a bed, looking very relaxed and very . . . asleep. She was a good performer, my little Ashley.



"Ashley," I called out as quietly as I could manage.



Nothing.



I took a step forward. "Ashley," I called out again, a little more loudly.



"Ummm," she responded groggily. The idiot was asleep for real! Dumbass, my mind screamed at me. First, she tries to get massacred by getting you into Stacey's room and now she's fucking asleep. Oh, so cheerleader ditzes are good people, are they? Big-boobed bimbos shouldn't be despised, is that right? Look how you've dirtied yourself in these fleshly pleasures. Look how you've lowered yourself in this decadent, animal-like behavior. Look. . . . Fuck you, I told myself, as I felt my dick hardening at the soft breathing close by. Asleep, passed out. I didn't care. I had a job to do. I had to fuck this chick. I took another step forward and was right by the bed.



"Steve," the voice sighed. "I told you. . . ." but I heard not another word. Good God. The fucking idiot had got the rooms confus . . . no, she had not. The little whore. Fuck. And then the sound of the moaning and heavy kissing from the other room. Jesus. Christ. Big house, but thin walls. My brother was nailing his teen-aged sister-in-law. The sick fuck.



I could see it now. Steve walks into the room. Jumps in the bed. Starts groping here and there and. . . . Nope, not your wife-to-be, dumbass. But n-o-o-o does he stop? Not with the hard body grinding against his cock. What a nightmare. But Steve fucking little Ashley was becoming quickly the last problem I had.



"Steve," the sleepy voice from the bed tried again. "How did you find me in here? I switched rooms with Ashley. God. You're such a pig." She rolled over away from me. "Well, come on in," she sighed tired. "You can hold me for a few minutes, but nothing more, understood? We're getting married tomorrow for your information."



Get out! Get out! Get out! But my feet were frozen to the ground. I had to get out of there, but I couldn't.



"Steve," she yawned and turned back to my dark silhouette. "Either come in or leave, but don't just stand there, baby."



I continued frozen.



"Whatever," she yawned and turned over again. She giggled lightly. "Better get your sleep lover boy. You'll need it tomorrow," she sighed.



I was about to step out, when a dull moan came from Ashley's room. The fucker was probably fucking her right now. The piece of shit had probably just shoved it up her little cunt as I stood there shaking like leaf. That was supposed to be my fuck, not his. Piece of shit. I could see the little bitch on her back, spread eagle, getting pummeled by that idiot. My sweet little Ashley. Poor kid. . . . And then I stopped myself. Poor kid? Have you completely lost it? She arranged the whole thing.



I shook my head, staring at the resting figure in front of me. Christ. What the fuck. What would it matter if she kicked me out? What? Steve was going to pummel me? Fuck him. I had his filthy carcass nailed to the cross forever now with the knowledge that he was nailing Stacey's baby sister. I took off my robe and let it fall to the floor. I took the final step to the bed. My cock was hardening staring at the wonderful curve of her round ass under the sheets. It would be hilarious waking up the garbage man's household in the middle of the night with his eldest daughter running around, screaming bloody murder in her bra and panties. Good clean fun.



I took a deep breath and pulled down my boxers as I snaked in under the sheets. Nice sheets. Nice satin, smooth cool sheets. I lay down, trying not to touch her, trying to think what to do next. She smelled so nice. Just like her little sister.



"Come on," she called out lazily, her back to me. "Hold me. I love it when you hold me."



Hold her? What the fuck are you doing, my mind demanded as the realization of where I was hit me. Christ. Had I lost my mind?



"Come on lover," she sighed. "Don't you want to hold your little baby?"



Yeah, toots. That's right. Your lover's holding a little baby--do not fret. Fuck. He's got his fat dick in her now. Stupid idiots, all of these people.



Fuck Ashley. Fuck Junior. Idiots all. Dumb. . . . I could feel the heat radiating from her body so close. She seemed so relaxed. Why the fuck not? I swallowed and carefully turned over on my side, making certain my cock was as far away from her as possible. I reached forward and put my shaking arm around her. Nothing but skin. She was naked! Oh Christ.



"Ummm," she sighed when she felt my hand, and then took it from her shoulder and brought it down slowly so that it was being cuddled between her tits. Dear Lord. They felt massive, warm, soft. What the fuck was I doing? Everything told me I should jerk my hand away, but I couldn't. The feeling was too incredible, too perverse.



"Nice," she murmured, stroking my hand, gently rocking herself. "Come closer," she continued, and I could feel her starting to push her ass back against me. I tried to back away, but it was no good and in an instant the hard length of my cock was pressing in between the soft globes of her ass.



"Steve," she giggled. "So hard. I told you. . . ." she faded and pressed herself against me more tightly, softly moaning. I tried not to groan at the heated contact, but couldn't help it. Instinctively I pressed back and my hardness was almost completely enveloped between her soft little pillows.



"Oh," she moaned. "Can't remember when you felt this big and hard, baby. Sure are making it difficult."



Of course, I said nothing and I held her for a minute or so in silence, not daring to move my resting hand, trying to come up with a plan to get me the hell out of there. I could hear her breathing relaxing, could feel her tits rising and falling methodically, and I knew she was falling back to sleep. The idea she was sleeping comforted me. Thank God. I could slip out in a few minutes.



And then I heard it. The squeaking of a bed from behind the wall and the suppressed moans from a young lady getting her brains fucked out. The sonofabitch was really doing it. He was really fucking her. Unbelievable. The moans and squeaks grew louder.



"That what I think it is?" the woman in my arms mumbled. She laughed lightly. "Your creepy brother's not gay after all. Hope he doesn't get a decease from that tramp."



I laughed inside. Not that Stacey thought I was gay--just about everyone thinks that. No, that Steve might get herpes or some other crazy decease from some eighteen-year-old cheerleader. What sweet justice that would be. And then I froze. The little bitch had me in her mouth. You could get herpes that way. Fuck. I could feel my cock starting to relax.



"No you don't," Stacey sighed. I felt the bed move a little and I groaned when her hand suddenly wrapped itself around my cock. I couldn't help push against the soft, warm hand "Mmmm," she hummed. "Better."



Oh fuck. Her ass, my cock, everything was starting to sweat and burn as she gently massaged and stroked me to rigid harness once again. She pulled away a little and my cock was released from her crevice. She pushed down and I almost died when I felt my cock-head being brushed against the soft, swollen, bare, drooling puffy skin of her labia.



"Where do you want it?" She groaned and pressed the swollen head against her cunt. "Here," she moaned and my cock was enveloped by her thick cunt lips. "Or," she continued softly, "here," and my cock was gently pushed back and I could feel it pressing into the tight little ring of her asshole. She left me there for a moment or two, gently pressing against me and I could feel her asshole greasing up and the very tip of my spongy head was just beginning to enter her. She continued pressing back and I was sure in a moment I'd be inside her ass. My entire body trembled in anticipation. And then she stopped.

<hr pg="3" />The moans and squeaks from the other room interrupted her. Ashley I was pretty certain was having a terrific orgasm and Steve was probably on the verge of unloading a months's worth of built up spunk inside the idiot.



"God," Stacey moaned, her hand still tightly wrapped around me. "Those two are going at it like jackrabbits . . . Oh, well," she sighed. "Just a little wouldn't hurt." And without warning in one smooth uninterrupted motion, she lifted her thigh slightly, my cock was surrounded by incredible heat, soft delicate skin and sticky wetness, she groaned and pushed back and I almost screamed as my cock slowly opened, pressed and then pushed up into her. In a panic I tried to pull away, but she was having none of that. She continued pushing back and I continued snaking in, almost painfully. And then I felt the nudge of something inside her and she twisted and pressed hard.



"Ohhh, so fucking nice," she moaned. "God, you feel so fucking big and hard."



I groaned my appreciation in response squeezing her tits hard to try to calm myself. This was nothing like Debbie. God, not even close. Stacey was, burning, unbelievably swollen and gripping, like her cunt was custom made for my cock. I felt completely surrounded in her soft tugging sticky folds, every inch of my cock caressed and soothed. I wanted to die, not wanting to move, just stay there forever.



She had better ideas. She started humping and pulling against me. Over and over. Each deep thrust sent shivers all over my body. Throughout it, I could feel her fingers at our juicy joining, feverishly working and diddling herself. "Too long," she groaned pulling away a few inches. "Too fucking long," she continued and pushed harshly back, burying me once more. "I never want to wait this long again," she growled and began to press and pull harder, more violently.



At first, I tried to match her, but it was doing no good. The woman was like a crazed animal, twisting and turning, pulling and pressing, as if she was trying to tear my cock out by the roots or something. Our bodies, her strong muscular back and my chest, her ass, her bouncing tits in my hand, everything was soaked and burning. We were tugging and pulling into each others' bodies in an insane attempt to feel everything, all it once, without hesitation. Jesus Christ. She was so much more than I could have ever imagined. A tiny evil voice in my head was laughing at me, telling me what a fool I'd been to waste my time with Debbie. Fuck the cheerleader. Fuck her hard, it kept chanting.



Suddenly, she froze and began whimpering, her body began clamping, gripping and I couldn't help but push into her everything I had, opening up her ass and thighs, and then violently without warning I released and spurted deep inside her over and over. Feeling it, trying to capture it all, she began wailing into her pillow, rocking and twisting in my sweat drenched arms, her nipples like two hard plastic thimbles. Mother of God. Fuck. Fuck.



When I came to my senses, I was holding her. Both of us were trying to catch our breaths, and she gently pulled away from my still erect cock. I could feel the juices pouring out of her onto her thighs and my legs.



She stayed silent for a minute or so, breathing deeply and then I felt her stirring. Fuck, I realized exhausted, she was about to turn over. I gripped her soft, full hip and she laughed.



"Come on," she sighed. "I want to fall asleep in your arms. I'm so tired."



My panic increased tenfold. I couldn't let her turn over. I didn't release my tight grip. I knew it. The second she turned over I'd be dead meat. She tried to twist away, laughing, and then pressed her soaked ass against me, trying to tease me away.





"Dear me," she giggled when she felt my still hard cock against her. "Trying to set a new record or something?" She twisted some more, but I held her tight. "Come on," she whined. "Let me kiss you."



I had only one alternative. I pressed open her ass and wiggled my soaked cock to where I hoped her asshole would be.



"Steve," she groaned, as my cock found her asshole. "Are you crazy?"



I pushed and she groaned louder, "Not tonight, baby. We're getting married tomorrow. Please."



I continued pushing, feeling the tight ring starting to expand and after several long suspenseful seconds of straining and pushing my cockhead suddenly popped in.



"Ohhh," she moaned deeply, almost unpleasantly.



Desperately, my hands slipping on and off her wet soaking waist, trying to get a little leverage, I tried pushing more into the tight, greasy ring.



"Slow down," she groaned. "Please. Just stop for a second."



I waited maybe a minute, feeling her ring relaxing, her body opening. I was in her ass, my brother's wife's ass. What the fuck was I doing. It was so tight, her constricting little tiny ring seemed to be cutting off the blood to my poor dick, swelling it up even more, burning it. I had to move and started pushing in once more.



The thought of fucking a woman in her asshole, in her rectum, had never entered my mind before. I'm sure if I ever thought of it (which I doubt) the idea would have seemed rather repulsive, but as my hard cock snaked its way into her bowels, as it penetrated deeper and deeper inside what felt like a death grip vice, I couldn't imagine anything more erotic, more intense or depraved and yet more passionate and giving. Within a minute I was fully inside her and she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.



"Feel so full," she moaned. "Ohhh. God, it's like your cock's grown a couple of inches."



I was trembling, unable to compose myself, but laughed inside. Steve had a smaller dick than I had. Good. There was a little justice in the universe, after all. Oh fuck was it tight, so hot inside her. I had to move. Tenderly, trying to gauge whether she was okay with it or not, I started pulling out and then pushing back into the vice. My strokes were short and slow and the incredible thing was the longer I continued, the more relaxed, the smoother, wetter, all of the feelings were, and the calmer I became. She murmured, quivered and held her breath each time I pushed in completely. This wasn't for her. It was for me. Whether she enjoyed the invasion or not, I couldn't tell, didn't really care, but when I came a couple of minutes later, it was almost spiritual in its completeness, its total silence. Never in my life had I felt such peace and relaxation, drained to an inch of sanity.



I stayed inside her tight grip for long heavenly minutes afterwards, holding and rocking her gently, nuzzling her ear and neck until I felt her breathing deeply and evenly.



My cock sort of snapped out of her when I pulled out. She seemed to sigh in her sleep and moaned lightly. I waited, hoping she wouldn't wake up. She continued breathing evenly. I nudged away from her. The smell was a little more pungent, the feeling a little more slimy, than when I'd finished fucking her, but nothing disgusting, simply a deep, very natural aroma, the sliminess like a delicate coat of something very intimate. I looked at her. She seemed so peaceful, content. I gently kissed her shoulder blade and got out of the bed.



* * * The wedding the next day went off without a hitch. (I didn't faint, although every muscle in my body seemed to ache and I can't ever remember feeling more exhausted.) Stacey and Junior looked extremely happy, and Ashley seemed a little less attentive to me than she'd been the previous days. She was still giggly and stupid, but her attentions were definitely toward her gorilla-like boyfriend. I stayed away from the little vixen and her goon. She'd accomplished what she'd set out to do and I was very happy we'd both done so well. In fact, several times throughout the evening festivities I toasted her silently, gratefully.



Did I feel jealous when Junior kissed Stacey after they were pronounced husband and wife?



Hardly. Neither of them meant much to me and a night of incredible, animal fucking with the beautiful bride in virgin white wouldn't change that. Well, I shouldn't say that exactly. The sin sisters helped me realize I had a lot to catch up on when I got back on campus. I was taking a summer course for fun, Communism in the United States. Still, even a communist knows what's right and wrong. Big-haired, ruby lipped bimbos were my primary targets from now on.



Four days later, however, as I was writing an essay on Marxist Agrarian Practices in the Southwest During the 1930's, thinking about a delicious bimbo I'd be seeing later that night, I got a call from Stacey from the sunny island she and Junior were staying at. I was hoping a hurricane would have wiped them out, but they seemed to have hit the beaches in the middle of a couple of nasty ones.



Without any pleasantries whatever, she got to the point.



"Did you rape me the night before the wedding?" she asked severely.



"Well, unless a person's capable of raping themselves, I wouldn't exactly call it rape, sis," I replied lazily



Pause.



"Did we sleep together, Kenny?" she moaned desperately.



"Not really. Or, at least, I didn't."



"What happened, you little fucker?"



"Oh, nothing really. Well, now that I think of it . . . yeah, that's right: I heard someone fucking your sister in the middle of the night," I said slowly, and then yawned for effect. This was too cool. I loved it. I could see it perfectly. Steve and her lamely fucking in the afternoon after a swim in the Atlantic, talking about their beautiful, bright future. Teasing a little, Stacey brings up the night before the wedding. Steve's tan pales visibly. Stacey smiles, telling him it was the best fucking they'd ever had. Steve pales impossibly some more, the world spinning in front of his nicely chiseled features, realizing his wife had fucked someone the night he'd fucked her sister. He smiles weakly, trying to play along, coming to the realization his younger brother had boned his wife, thinking of ways to skin me alive. Stacey wonders what the hell's wrong with him and 2 2=4. But the truth is too awful. Maybe she'd dreamed it all up, but soaked sheets and a very sore asshole and crusty cunt don't lie, baby. Hence, the pleasant call.



"What did you say?" Stacey rasped after a long pause.



"Your sister was fucking someone," I yawned again.



"What? So it wasn't you in bed with her that night?"



"Nope."



Pause.



"Did you come in my bedroom?"



I laughed inside. Twice, sweetheart. Two times. Once in that unbelievably juicy swollen cunt of yours and the other time, deep, deep inside your tight little ass.



"Did you?" she persisted, her voice quivering.



"I couldn't find anyone else so I wanted to tell you about it, make sure Ashley was okay, you know, but you didn't seem all that interested and, well, I think you know the rest."



Pause. Deep breathing.



"Who was fucking Ashley?"



"No idea."



Pause. Panic coming through as clear as if she was calling from the next room.



"Was it Steve?"



"Ask him. He's probably nearby, no?"



Click.



When I next saw big bro and his lovely wife (during Christmas break) everyone was as civil as could be. I was certain both of them chose to erase that night from their memories and hadn't discussed it after their first, terrible realizations. Their ideal world would continue for a few years more before the inevitable divorce.



It was a very Platonic resolution.



FUCK PLATO!

