"Because I Can"

[The_J0k3R]

By the end of it, my jaw was quite sore, and my face was covered with her smeared cum juices. I had followed her instructions to the letter, and been rewarded with the most erotic experience I had ever had, far and away. Having her orgasm like that, repeatedly, with my mouth connected to the source of it all, was simply amazing, and I was quite eager to experience it again!

I slid back away from her, my eyes grazing over her blissed out, naked body. Having her cum on my face repeatedly had turned me on immensely. My cock was rock hard again, and I kneeled on the bed between her knees, just looking at her and openly stroking myself above her. I smirked.

"You don't need a break now, do you?" I asked, my greedy eyes feasting on her body splayed out before me. I was terribly hungry for more of her...

 

[CutiePie1997]

I peeked out from over the top of the pillow at John ... at my brother ... at the barely-no-longer-a-virgin who had given me one of the best orgasms -- a handful of the best orgasms -- I'd ever experienced. I giggled, a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry," I said, burying my face into the pillow again as I pulled my knees together, hiding my on-display pussy. I was suddenly feeling very self conscious about what we had just done ... about what I had just done. I realized that John may have misunderstood my apology. I peeked out again, clarifying, "I mean for being so loud. Good oral does that to me. And John ... that was amazing oral. You should feel proud."

I threw a leg before my brother's body and rolled off the bed. As I left him, I explained, "I gotta pee."

I didn't. But I needed some privacy. In the bathroom, I studied myself in the mirror. Oh my god! What have you done? I just had sex with my own little brother! I'd sucked his cock ... swallowing his cum! I'd let him fuck me! And I'd let him suck my pussy! What the hell's wrong with you?

I was being pretty hard on myself, which I should have been. I thought the reason for my self criticism was that I was only just now realizing that I'd committed an act -- several acts -- of incest that would change my and my brother's lives forever. But as the minutes and hours to come passed, I would come to realize that it wasn't these acts that were the issue: it was the future acts that I already knew I wanted to commit with John that were the problem.

I'd done this because I wanted to, and I always did what I wanted. Because I can, I remembered telling myself out there on that balcony. I'd wanted to be able to remind myself in the future that it had been me who introduced my brother to the joys of sex ... who had taught him how to please a woman. And I'd meant for it to end there, of course. I'd had no intention of getting naked with John ever again!

The problem now was ... I wanted to stay naked with John for hours and days to come, teaching him how to drive me crazy ... then letting him do just that again and again. As I'd been contemplating all this, I'd begun caressing my hands over my body, thinking about John. As one of my hands found my swollen labia, then my still sensitive clit, recalling what my brother had done to both, I pulled my hand away quickly, laughing.

"You are so fucked," I whispered to myself, again chuckling. I knew I couldn't -- shouldn't -- have a lasting sexual relationship with my brother. I needed time to think about what had happened. I flushed the toilet, despite not having used it, then opened the door to look at John. "I'm going to shower." I smiled, adding, "Alone."

I closed the door, locked it, and set about cleaning myself up. Almost an hour later, I was dressed in a hotel robe with my face and hair done for an evening out on the town, not that we were allowed to be out on the town, of course. But when I finally exited the bathroom, I learned that the threat warning had been lifted.

 

[The_J0k3R]

I laid myself down on the bed after she excused herself to use the restroom. I stared at the ceiling, ignoring the music, trying to process the swirling questions in my mind.

This was not a dream.

This was a nightmare.

I had just fucked my sister. My older sister was the one who had claimed my virginity. How fucked up was that? For the rest of my life, when I looked back on my first time, it would always be her. I knew as I lay there that I would always lust after her in carnal ways that were simply wrong.

She told me she was showering. Alone. Good. I nodded, but she was already shutting the door. I needed a distraction, or something. I got myself dressed. I turned on the TV, turned off the music, flipped through the unfamiliar British stations. Our hotel was featured prominently on the local news channel. Apparently, the threat level had been downgraded, and we were no longer prisoners in our own rooms. That was a relief, at least.

It was sometime later that Lorna came out of the bathroom, and I told her we were able to leave. I took my turn in the shower, scrubbing the scent of sex and pussy and orgasm and cum off my body and face. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About her. That incredibly sexy body. The way she cried out her orgasms as she came on my face.

I was even more hot and bothered when I got out of the shower. What did Lorna have in store for me? For us? Was there an "us"? Could there possibly be? Obviously, we could never be open about our affair. But would this one time be all for us? We still had another week of sharing this hotel room...

I came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around my waist. "So what are we doing tonight?" I asked her.

 

[CutiePie1997]

I flipped through the stations until I found the BBC News, watching it while John showered. At one point, a reporter on a pre-recorded segment was standing on the corner right out below our room explaining that MI-5 was now refuting reports that our hotel -- occupied mostly by non-Brit vacationers -- had ever been a target. But it wasn't the report that caught my attention. No, my gaze went to the marquis in the background advertising a dance club with an Ireland-based DJ I'd taken a shine to back home.

(Little change to your post. When he comes out, she's gone.)

I quickly dressed in an outfit even my mother didn't know I had and headed for the elevator. As I descended, I sent my mother a text message:

John and I are going down to the lounge for fish and chips.​

Then, I sent a text to John:

Dance club kitty corner to the hotel.
Come soon. You don't know me.​

There was a line at the door of the club, but it was still early so everyone was getting in after showing IDs. I reached a big, brawny bouncer and pulled my passport out of my little dance purse. He didn't look at it, instead taking in my body and the clothes barely encasing it before gesturing me past the velvet rope.

I was surprised to find the club already packed and all I expected it to be. Loud thumping bass-heavy music. Neon, strobes, and lasers. Writhing bodies dancing without -- as the Nuns back at my Catholic junior high school would have insisted -- any thought of making room between them for the Holy Spirit. Within seconds, I already had two men asking me to join them on the dance floor and a third asking to buy me a drink. I took up the third's offer, then after quickly finishing it and while his back was turned, faded into the crowd. I danced alone for a while, wiggling with, near, or away from a half dozen men before finally discovering and dancing with a tall, erotic, black as night woman dressed even skimpier than myself.

The night was passing by one song after another, one guy -- or girl -- after another, one free drink after another, when I began to wonder what was taking John so long. A thought suddenly struck me, and I reached into my little party purse for my phone. Fuck! I thought seeing the text I'd missed. I headed immediately through the thick crowd for the door. I found the same bouncer and moved up close to him, standing on the toes of my heels to tell him over the music spilling out, "My brother ... my disabled brother ... he's in line somewhere. He's never been in a club before--"

"What's wrong with him?" the bouncer interrupted. "You said he was disabled."

I'd thought that little lie might get some sympathy, but I hadn't expected to have to clarify. I hesitated, then tapped a finger to my temple and said, "He's ... slow. Is that how you say it here?"

"We say it a lot of ways," he said, laughing, his gaze still noticeably taking a walk up and down me, "but that one works, too. Go get him."

I nearly jumped out of my shoes to kiss the tall man's cheek, then rushed around him and down the line. I eventually found John, shocked at how quickly the line had grown to be more than a hundred bodies long. I grabbed him by the hand, turned, and dragged him away, asking, "Remember how Ricky Thomas, down the street ... remember how he acts in public...? Act that way when we get up here, or you ain't getting past the bouncer."

We reached the front of the line again, where the bouncer studied each of us again, then waved us inside. No sooner had we passed through the door, then I released John's hand and said close to his ear, "Remember, you don't know me. Now, go have some fun. I'll find you in a bit."

I pushed at him, urging him to git!