A Terrible Mistake
Copyright© 2025 by Knobbie Knows
Chapter 5
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 5 - A brother gets caught spying on his sister, resulting in confrontation, a new relationship and blackmail.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Incest Brother Sister Masturbation Safe Sex Voyeurism BBW AI Generated
The laundry room was stifling—hot from the humming dryers, redolent with the sharp tang of detergent and sweat. Faint light dripped from a single bulb overhead, casting long, crooked shadows across the stacked machines and folded linens. Chloe stood with her back pressed to the closed door, heart pounding like a locked pulse against her ribs. Leo had followed her in, breathless, eyes wide with the kind of wounded urgency that made her want to both push him away and never let go.
“We can’t do this anymore,” she said, voice low, trembling. “It’s wrong. We know it’s wrong.”
Leo stepped forward, hand reaching for her. “Then why does it feel like the only thing that’s ever been right?”
She flinched as his fingers brushed her arm. “Because we’re broken,” she whispered. “And we’re using each other to pretend we’re not.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled her to him, mouth pressing into hers with a desperation that bordered on violence. Chloe resisted for only a second—then gave in, opening to him, her hands clawing at his shirt, tugging it over his head. The act was reckless, a final surrender. One last time. Just once more. She told herself that like a prayer, like a curse.
Clothes fell in a scattered trail. Buttons popped. Skin met skin—warm, slick with nervous sweat. Leo backed her against the industrial washing machine, its surface cold through the thin fabric of her bra. She arched into him, thighs parting as he lifted her, setting her on the edge of the drum. The machine groaned beneath her weight.
“You’re all I think about,” Leo murmured, kissing her neck, her collarbone, her breasts through the lace. “Even when I try not to. Even when I hate myself.”
Chloe gasped as he yanked her bra down, freeing her heavy breasts. He took one into his mouth, sucking with deep, aching pulls, and she cried out—then clapped a hand over her own mouth. Gemma. The name was a blade in the dark.
But there were no cameras here. No lens to catch this. Just the two of them, hidden in the mechanical belly of the house, where the walls were thick and the world didn’t watch.
“Look at me,” Leo demanded, pulling back. His eyes were glassy, dilated with need. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”
She did—because she did. Not just the sex, not just the release, but the way he looked at her like she was beautiful, like she was chosen. “I want you,” she breathed. “Even if it kills me.”
He lifted her again, turned her, bent her over the washer. The cold metal pressed into her stomach as he entered her from behind, slow at first, then harder, faster, each thrust a confession, a punishment, a benediction. Chloe bit her lip until it bled, muffling her moans against the rubber seal of the machine. The rhythm was brutal, perfect. He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight, practiced circles that made her scream into the fabric of her own shirt.
“Say my name,” he growled. “Say it.”
“Leo,” she gasped. “Leo, Leo—”
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