Chapter 1

Everything starts with a story. You know, the kind of story where the pieces of a new reality slowly swirl together only to take shape when it collides with your own predictable life, making you see things differently than when you woke up that day?

That’s how it all started for me. Lorena, and my little step-brother Beto. We were in a tangled web of lust and desire, having left the well-defined paths of good and evil behind.

I arrived late at night on a night like any other, that night I’d been to a party. A party where my then-boyfriend had kissed another girl in front of me.

I mean, who does that? In our grand living room, filled with the echoes of laughter from earlier celebrations, I found myself alone, nursing a glass of wine that was no longer cold. The house, usually bustling with life, felt eerily quiet as everyone else had either gone home or passed out upstairs.

“Hey, Lorena,” a soft voice called out from the doorway. It was Beto, my little step-brother, holding a tray of snacks he’d probably just brought down from the kitchen. His dark hair was disheveled, and his glasses reflected the dim light from the hallway, hiding his eyes.

But I could feel his gaze on me, curious and concerned. He was always the thoughtful one, the observer, while I was more of a doer, a reactor.

“Hey, Beto,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shrugged, walking over to sit beside me on the plush couch. “You know me, always up late with a book or something.” He gestured towards the tray. “Thought you might want some snacks after ... well, after what happened.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“You heard about that, huh?” I asked, taking a handful of chips from the tray. Beto nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, Mom told Dad, and he told me. I’m sorry, Lorena.”

I sighed, leaning back into the cushions. “It’s fine, really. Just another chapter in the never-ending saga of Lorena’s terrible taste in men.” I tried to laugh it off, but the sound caught in my throat, turning into a sob instead. Beto looked at me, his expression softening.

“Lorena, you don’t have to be tough all the time, you know. It’s okay to feel hurt.” He scooted closer, putting an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, grateful for the comfort.

“It’s just ... I thought we had something real,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “And now, I feel so stupid for believing him.”

Beto squeezed my shoulder gently. “You’re not stupid, Lorena. You trusted someone, and they betrayed that trust. That’s not on you.”

I looked up at him, our faces inches apart.

His dark eyes held a warmth I hadn’t noticed before, a depth that made me feel seen, understood. I reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His breath hitched slightly at my touch.

“You’ve grown up, Beto,” I murmured, realizing it for the first time. He wasn’t the lanky kid I used to tease anymore. He was a man, with a kindness that radiated from him like a beacon.

And suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in that kindness, if only for tonight.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said softly, his voice barely audible. “I’ve always looked up to you, Lorena. You’re brave, fierce, and unapologetically yourself.”

I felt a flutter in my stomach at his words. No one had ever described me like that before. I was always the wild one, the troublemaker, the one who didn’t fit into anyone’s neat little boxes.

But coming from Beto, those words meant something different. They meant he saw me, truly saw me, not just as his older sister, but as a person worthy of admiration.

Our faces were still close, our breaths mingling in the space between us. I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

By then I was already half drunk from the party and the many glasses of wine I’d had, I was about to lose control, Beto was too close to me.

“Beto...” I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. “What are we doing?”

He looked at me, his expression serious. “I don’t know, Lorena. But I know I don’t want to stop.”

I knew that since his puberty Beto had something for me, I don’t know how many times I’ve caught him poking around in my panty drawer, since he started to become a man he showed signs of interest in me, romantic but mainly sexual.

Sometimes I’d catch him masturbating in the bathroom in the hallway, he’d moan my name over and over again, and I’d just pretend not to hear him. My coffee, which I always had in the morning, sometimes tasted very strange, like sperm...

At that time I was no longer the innocent little girl I had once been.

I had already lost my virginity and had several boyfriends, I was not a prude, but I had never been with a member of my family, I had never considered it, until that moment.

The air between us seemed to crackle with electricity, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. I knew I should pull away, put some distance between us, but I couldn’t seem to make myself move. Instead, I found myself leaning in, my lips brushing against his in a soft, tentative kiss.

Maybe it was time to give my little brother a little present for his 18th birthday.

After all, he had been such a good boy, always helping me with my chores, always being there for me when I needed him.

We did it right there, on the sofa in the living room where we were sitting. Her cock was incredibly big, even more so for someone his age. Did I like it? Yes. Was it wrong? Maybe, but that might not be the ideal question for what most people are trying to understand in this context.

The taboo was part of our relationship, doing something wrong motivated us to do it even more.

After hours of good fucking on the living room, he finally came inside me.

I felt his warm seed filling me up, and I couldn’t help but moan loudly, enjoying every second of it. We both collapsed onto the couch, panting and sweaty.

“Wow,” Beto said, breaking the silence. “That was ... intense.”

I laughed softly, tracing patterns on his chest with my finger. “Yeah, it was.”

We made a lot of noises, but our parents’ room was far enough away not to hear us. Thankfully, the amount of loud moans I gave out was great, if anyone had heard us, I think our lives would have ended.

“Do you think Mom and Dad heard us?” Beto asked, genuninely worried, as we lay entwined on the couch, our bodies slick with sweat and the evidence of our passion. I chuckled, running my fingers through his damp hair.

“Nah, their room’s too far away. Besides, they’d have to be awake to hear anything,” I reassured him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “And even if they did, they’re probably just happy I’m getting some action after that douchebag at the party.”

Beto snorted, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, I’m definitely happy about it.” He paused, his expression turning serious.

“But with me? Would they like that?” Beto asked, his voice barely above a whisper. I could see the worry in his eyes, the fear of disappointing our parents, especially our dad, who had always been stricter with him than with me. I sighed, pulling him closer.

“Beto, listen to me,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “Mom and Dad aren’t perfect. They’ve made mistakes too. And they love us, both of us, more than anything. They just want us to be happy.”

I hesitated for a moment, choosing my next words carefully.

I didn’t want to promise Beto the world, but I also didn’t want to dismiss his fears. “Look, I can’t speak for Mom and Dad, but I know they love us. And yes, they might be shocked at first, hell, I was too. But they’ll come around. They have to.”