But It's Wrong, Isn't It?
Copyright© 2020 by Its a Kilt, Not a Skirt
Chapter 7
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Dot's dreamy older brother, Alex, is always bringing girls home to his bedroom. Curiosity aroused by the sounds that come from behind the closed door, Dot attempts to find her own sexual satisfaction with little success...until she comes to the startling realization that she, herself, would like to be on the other side of that door, under her very own brother.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Ma/ft Teenagers Consensual Reluctant Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Brother Sister Rough Cream Pie First Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Small Breasts Slow
Alex and I didn’t get another chance to be alone until the next day after school. I was only half-there for most of my classes, caught up in reliving what we’d done and what we’d been about to do. I couldn’t believe what had happened, and what I’d learnt—I’d fully realized what I’d been only half-aware of for years, my sexual attraction to my brother—and realized his feelings about me, as well. How improbable was that? And my god, we had been about to have the most incredible sex. It hardly seemed real.
I walked home more quickly than I usually did—I didn’t stop in at Wally’s Bookstore like I usually did after school—and jumped up the stairs two at a time, feeling energized. Unlocking the door to our flat, I sang out a hello and dropped my bag on the kitchen floor. When I turned, I found Alex lying on the sofa on his back, one arm over his eyes. He didn’t return my greeting, but I came over and gave him a sound kiss on the mouth anyway, which he only half-returned. His arm slid away slowly from his face to reveal his beautiful blues—but something was wrong. The look on his face, in his eyes, was one of pain, of misery, of uncertainty.
‘Hi, happy,’ I said, scooting onto the sofa in front of him—as much as I could, with the room that he left. ‘What’s the matter?’
Alex sighed. It was a sigh that came from deep within him and spoke of great sorrow.
‘Dottie,’ he said solemnly. ‘I think we should talk about yesterday.’
This I had not been expecting. In my imagined timeline, we were now only several minutes away from resuming our position of the previous evening, with thoughts that we might this time finish what we started.
‘Okay,’ I said uncertainly, brow furrowed, as my brother swung his legs over my head to sit up properly. He leaned forward, frowning, fingers together like the principals you see in films. ‘What do we need to say about it?’
‘I don’t think it should have happened,’ Alex said, his voice monotone. He didn’t look at me. ‘Maybe it’s better we stopped when we did.’
‘But if Da hadn’t come home, we’d have done it,’ I protested. ‘We didn’t choose to stop; we were forced to.’
‘Still. It’s—it’s wrong.’
‘My god, Alex, you’re gonna start with that? Who cares what anybody thinks? We both wanted to do it. You didn’t force me or anything. You’re being ridiculous. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t still want to do it.’
He did look me in the eye, but he didn’t say what I’d asked him to. Instead, he said, ‘Dottie, this isn’t Game of Thrones. Stuff like this, it just doesn’t happen in real life.’
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