Chapter 5 - The Choice

The scent of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee filled the kitchen. Steve slid into a chair at the table, Zoé taking the seat next to him. Under the table, her small hand found its way back to his thigh, her fingers tracing a slow, possessive circle. He playfully slapped it away, and she answered with a soft, knowing giggle. Across the room, his mother, Susan, stood at the stove. Her back was to him, and the sight was mesmerizing. Her simple silk robe clung to her pert ass, accentuating its perfect shape as she moved with effortless grace. With every shift of her hips while she tended the pan, Steve couldn’t help but admire the way her body moved. Robert, his father, was hidden behind a newspaper, a coffee mug steaming beside him.

“Where’s Mia?” Steve asked, trying to sound casual, Zoé’s hand made it difficult.

“Still in bed,” Susan replied. “Why don’t you go wake her up, sweetie?”

Zoé’s hand was back on his leg, squeezing gently. “Yeah, Steve. Go wake her up.” Her tone was laden with a meaning he was now all too familiar with.

He stood and retreated from the kitchen. He journeyed up the stairs and down the hall to Mia’s door.

“It’s time to wa—” The words died in his throat.

Mia was a vision of sun-kissed blond hair spread across her pillow, sound asleep. Sometime during the night, she’d kicked her blankets entirely off. She lay on her back, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of black lace panties. The morning light streamed through her window, illuminating her like a centerfold. Her 36DD breasts, full and perfectly round, rose and fell with her slow, deep breaths, her pink nipples pebbled in the cool morning air. A war erupted inside him. One side, a primal, hungry beast, screamed at him to fall to his knees, to bury his face between her legs, to taste the sister he’d only ever been allowed to look at. The other side, the fading ghost of the brother he used to be, screamed in panic and shame.

He sighed, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He forced himself to walk to the bed, reaching out to shake her bare shoulder. Her skin was impossibly soft. “Hey, sleepyhead! Time to wake up.”

Mia’s eyes fluttered open, those brilliant blue eyes focusing on him. An angelic, sleepy smile spread across her face. “Hey, bro,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. “I’m happy you’re back.” Then she stretched, a long, languorous, and utterly devastating motion. Her arms went high over her head, her back arched off the bed, and her magnificent tits lifted, jiggling softly with the movement before settling back into their perfect, heavy shape. The sight made his cock, already half-hard from Zoé’s antics, swell to an unbearable fullness, straining painfully against his pajama pants.

“Have you made your decision?” she asked, her gaze sharpening. She was looking at him not like a sister, but like a lioness eyeing a gazelle. Her pink tongue slowly swept across her luscious lips.

God, I have to get out of here. “Not yet,” he managed to whine, the words tight. “I need to talk to you first, and I can’t concentrate with you ... like this!” He began a hasty retreat toward the door.

Mia gave a theatrical pout, she cupped one of her own breasts, lifting its heavy weight, and then, her eyes locked on his, she leaned her head down and slowly, deliberately, licked her own nipple. Slurp. “Whatever do you mean, dear brother?” Her blue eyes sparkled with pure, unadulterated mischief.

Steve fled. He practically stumbled back into the kitchen, the sound of Mia’s triumphant giggles chasing him down the hall. As he entered, a conversation between his mother and Zoé cut off abruptly. He froze. Their eyes, both pairs, were locked not on his face, but lower. He followed their gaze down to his own pajama pants. The thick, hefty line of his fully erect, underwear-less cock made a massive, undeniable tent in the soft fabric. It was a fucking announcement.

His face burned. He scurried to his chair and sat down hard, grabbing his fork and staring intently at his plate of eggs as if they held the secrets of the universe.

“Heh,” Susan said, her voice dripping with faux-innocence. “What were we talking about, Zoé?”

Zoé played along perfectly. “For some reason, Mom, I just can’t remember.”

Steve could feel their heated stares on the side of his face. He turned, a silent plea for help, toward his father. All he could see was the business section of the newspaper, trembling violently, muffled snorts of laughter coming from behind it. Traitor. He concentrated on his breakfast, shoveling food into his mouth.