My Famous Sister - Cover

My Famous Sister

Copyright© 2025 by Tharnoren

Chapter 14: The Abandonment of Reason

Incest Sex Story: Chapter 14: The Abandonment of Reason - Brice, an ordinary university student, discovers an adult content platform through a friend. Initially hesitant, he eventually gives in to temptation. He meets Emmy, who sends him suggestive photos daily for a fee. Captivated by Emmy’s intriguing personality and beauty, Brice becomes increasingly drawn into their virtual exchanges. Little does he know that behind Emmy’s anonymity hides someone living right under his own roof…

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Brother   Sister   BDSM   MaleDom   Rough   Spanking   Anal Sex   Analingus   Cream Pie   Facial   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Safe Sex   Tit-Fucking   Foot Fetish  

A faint ray of light slips into the room, filtering through the cracks in the curtains, and the pull of reality starts to settle over me. The night offered only partial relief—a patchwork of fragmented sleep and hazy dreams—but in the morning, every thought returns with the crashing force of a wave. Lying still, I let the memory of Emma’s messages flood my mind, each image, each word, growing even sharper, as if my thoughts, far from calming, are feeding off the forbidden.

My throat feels dry, my hands clenched tightly against the sheets, and a dull ache rises within me, like an open wound I’ve somehow made worse. That voice—familiar yet strangely foreign—whispering under the name “Emmy,” the way she teased me, drew me in, toying with every boundary, it all comes back to me. My heart beats unevenly, caught between a consuming shame and this desire that, despite everything, refuses to fade. “We could play a little game...” she had said. I close my eyes, but I can’t erase that phrase, nor the images that followed.

I remember every photo, every contour of her body she revealed, each subtle hint woven into her messages. It was Emma—my sister—and yet, last night, she was something else, something that stirs in me a curiosity I never knew existed, a deep, unsettling turmoil. Disgust rises, settling heavily, but it’s laced with a dark, unspoken excitement gnawing at me from the inside. How did I let it get this far? How did I cross that line, so cruel yet so intoxicating? The weight of guilt presses down like a stone, pinning me to the mattress, while my thoughts force me to relive every detail, every moment I gave in, letting my impulses lead me to the edge of a precipice.

I drag a hand over my face, as if to shake off this invisible grip, but it’s no use. Behind my closed eyes, Emma’s words, her unspoken gestures, the bold poses in her photos—all of it returns, relentless. This game ... this game pushed me further than I ever thought possible. It felt surreal, and yet the sensation in my body, this familiar, disturbing thrill, proves that it was real. All too real. “I imagine you taking me somewhere in public...” she had written, and those words alone are enough to awaken a warmth I try to push back. My fingers tighten on the sheet, clenched by the tension of that searing memory, one I wish I could erase, but it clings to me like a thorn.

I sit up in bed, trying to escape my own thoughts, but every movement, every breath brings me back to her—this Emma I thought I knew, now someone I can barely recognize. The Emma who, last night, spoke to me without restraint, revealing fantasies I would never have imagined coming from her. And I ... I encouraged her. I responded, without even a second’s hesitation. Like a puppet on invisible strings, I couldn’t stop myself from playing along, from diving into this abyss where desire and morality collide, from crossing that forbidden, inexcusable line.

A cold shiver runs through me, and I glance at the door, suddenly remembering that Emma is just on the other side, in the next room. That simple fact, her proximity, unsettles me even more. Just a few meters—only a few meters separate us, yet it feels like an immense chasm has opened between us. How could I ever face her after this? How could I look her in the eye, knowing what I feel, what we shared last night? This game has torn apart what was sacred between us, creating a rift that I doubt will ever close.

I pass by the mirror in my room but quickly look away. My own reflection is unbearable. It’s as if I can see the mark of my betrayal etched into my face, the mark of this desire I try to deny, yet which continues to simmer within me.

I finally step away from the bed, feeling heavy, as if my own emotions are holding me back. Every part of me screams that I need to end this game, to distance myself from her before it’s too late, before we cross a point of no return. And yet, a part of me, insidious, whispers the opposite—an unspoken thought, a temptation I don’t dare to acknowledge: to continue the game, to go further, to dive even deeper into this abyss where nothing makes sense anymore except for her and me.

I let out a sigh, but the weight of guilt doesn’t lessen. If anything, it grows, spreads, consumes me, and I know deep down that as long as I don’t sever this tie, I’ll remain chained to this desire that eats away at me. I have to make a decision—a drastic decision—and soon, before this attraction swallows me whole.

The walk to the university, usually calming, feels more like an escape than a routine today. Each step is marked by a growing unease. As I make my way along the streets, my mind drifts back, unwillingly, to our virtual exchanges. I replay every word from Emma, every photo, every confession. She hadn’t hesitated to open up, to share her fiery fantasies, convinced she was speaking to some distant stranger. But I knew ... and I kept reading, kept replying, as though I reveled in it, as if I waited for each of her words with a dark, unhealthy hunger.

Arriving on campus, a heavy tension settles over me, and even the natural light feels burdensome. The hallways are packed with students talking, laughing, living their everyday lives without a second thought, while I wrestle with this shame that refuses to let go. In the classroom, I find a seat off to the side, hoping to avoid my classmates’ eyes. I try to focus on the lecture, but my thoughts are overrun by Emma’s voice, by the suggestive messages that filled my night. The attraction I feel toward her, though I fight it with everything I have, takes root like an indelible shadow.

My friends join me, and soon, a hand lands on my shoulder. Jack, one of my closest friends, sits next to me, his gaze studying my face. He seems to sense my unease, and without needing me to say a word, he offers a sympathetic smile, ready to listen. For a moment, I catch myself considering telling him everything, unloading this weight. But the thought vanishes as quickly as it came. How could I possibly explain the unspeakable? So, I just shrug, feigning fatigue.

Jack: “Hey, you okay? You look like crap, man. Something’s off with you.” I nod without answering, trying to hide my emotions, but he presses on, his gaze sharp, as if he senses something’s wrong. I eventually let out a sigh, the words slipping from my lips almost involuntarily.

Me: “Yeah ... let’s just say I’m having trouble focusing right now. Got a lot on my mind.” He stares at me for a moment, then, after a brief silence, offers a knowing smile. In a calm tone, as if he’s sensed part of my inner turmoil, he gives me an unexpected piece of advice that hits me like a punch to the gut.

Jack: “You know, sometimes we complicate things too much by suppressing our desires, our emotions. Sometimes, you just need to ... let go, live what you feel, no matter how ... disturbing it seems.” His words hit me like a thunderclap. How could he possibly understand the depth of this “disturbing”? But strangely, his words awaken a part of me that had been fighting to remain silent. Maybe because he has no idea what this truly means, the abyss I’ve fallen into. And yet, in this moment, his advice, so sincere, leaves me at a loss. My response comes out in a whisper.

Me: “Yeah ... easy to say. But I doubt it’s ... a good idea.” Jack nods, thoughtful, then his gaze sharpens, as if sensing some part of my inner struggle without fully understanding it. But thankfully, he doesn’t press, simply placing a comforting hand on my shoulder before turning his attention back to the lecture.

The rest of the day continues in this strange state of suspension, where every interaction takes intense effort to seem normal, to keep my thoughts from drifting back to her. At times, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and a brief flicker of anxiety crosses my mind. Is it her, again? The mere thought of another message from Emmy makes my heart race, reigniting the flame I’m desperately trying to extinguish. But I don’t give in. Each vibration feels like a call I refuse to answer, knowing that every word exchanged would only deepen the trap I’m already stuck in.

Finally, the lunch break arrives, and I find myself in the cafeteria with Jack and a few other friends. The conversations around me come through as distant hums, while my thoughts remain captive to the unbearable proximity between Emma and me, this unspoken desire choking me. At one point, Jack catches me staring at my phone absentmindedly and, amused, gives me a light nudge.

Jack: “Waiting for an important message or something? You look really out of it, man. You should really try to relax a bit.” I force a smile, but it’s strained, almost painful, and to steer the conversation away, I dive into my meal, hoping the others don’t notice anything more. But my mind remains clouded, trapped in this tension that refuses to settle, even intensifying with every minute I spend without a reply, as if the absence of interaction makes the desire sharper, more tangible.

As the afternoon progresses, I briefly escape, finding a moment of solitude to breathe deeply, away from the curious eyes of my friends. I take my phone and, once again, force myself not to check Emmy’s notifications. My hand trembles slightly, betraying the inner battle consuming me. Each passing second without giving in is an intense effort, a struggle against myself. It’s absurd, irrational, but I know that by responding, I would only feed this confusion, this toxic attraction I can’t seem to control.

So, I put the phone away and return to class, determined to resist, to focus on something else. But deep down, I know this fight is futile. That, somehow, she pulls me in irresistibly, like a fire I can’t help but approach, despite the burns it promises.

The afternoon drags on in an almost unbearable haze. I try to focus on the lecture, but every passing minute seems to amplify the weight of my thoughts, the tension crushing me from within. As I’m lost in my efforts to keep my head above water, my phone vibrates, sending a wave of unease through me that I can no longer ignore.

I already know it’s her. My heart tightens, caught between excitement and dread at what she might have written this time. With a quick glance, I check the screen.

Emmy (message): “Hey 😉, I’m stuck on campus and all the classes here are boring. I’ve got just one thing on my mind to pass the time, wanna guess? 😏” A warmth spreads through me despite myself. The thought that she might be somewhere close, maybe just a few meters away, fills me with a mix of desire and guilt. She’s here, on the same campus, and her mind is consumed by thoughts she believes are harmless, thinking she’s talking to a stranger. The situation feels more real, more dangerous, and with every word she sends, I fall deeper into this abyss.

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