The sun beat down harshly that Saturday afternoon. Jimmy thanked his lucky stars that his family had a pool. The shining water sucked the excess heat from him, and buoyed his lithe form as he glided from one end to the other.
“Hey Jimmy, get over here.”
He grimaced. He was not quite so thankful for his sister. “You get over here, Rachel.”
“Nuh-huh,” she said. “I need you to do something for me here. Besides, I’m not getting up. Do you see my top being on?”
Without thinking, he snapped his gaze up towards her. He cursed himself for being so easy to play. Of course she wasn’t actually showing anything. She laid facing down on a deck chair. Her long, strawberry-blonde hair tucked past her shoulder, to stay out of the sun’s way. Her lean, curved body was bare down to her pink bikini bottoms, but angles kept him from seeing anything important. The ends of her matching top hung down over the chair’s sides, from where she lay on top of it.
She smirked. Even with her eyes closed, she’d heard him turn. “Made you look, you horny little dork. Now come on. I’m the boss ‘cause I’m older.”
“By like ten minutes,” he grumbled.
Which put them both smack in the middle of puberty. His brain was enough of a mess of hormones and lust, and she was hot enough, that she could lead him by the balls. The same as she did everyone else. He hated that it worked, but it did.
Still muttering, he climbed out of the pool. “Alright, what do you want?”
“Good boy.” Blindly, she lifted a bottle towards him. “Tanning oil, on my back. I’d do it myself, but I can’t reach.”
Well, that wasn’t so bad. He drew up a chair next to her. The oil felt thick and cool on his hands. She gasped when he touched her, but soon relaxed into it. She was good at relaxing. The muscles of her back were so at ease, they felt soft under his touch. Her skin was supple and smooth. He rubbed her down all the way to the small of her back ... and steadily back upwards, just for the sake of it. No way did her relaxed body really need a massage, but Rachel still purred with enjoyment.
And he liked touching her. The longer he spent in contact with her naked skin, the more heat pulsed to his hands, to his groin. Some part of him was repulsed by those thoughts, some part of his brain screaming a reminder that Rachel was his sister. But his brain wasn’t getting that much blood. That voice had only enough strength to make Rachel’s skin into a guilty pleasure.
Even though he’d long since coated her back with oil, she didn’t stop him. Quite the opposite: she settled in, almost liquid on the chair. “Ooh, that’s it. You just keep doing that for, like, an hour.”
He frowned. That kind of presumptuousness, after she’d already ordered him up to oil her back? Lustful frustration compounded on his indignation. On the spur of the moment, he decided to get back at her, to get even. He spied the strings of her top, still hanging down from underneath her.
He grabbed one, yanked it away, and ran.
“What the--hey! Give that back, you little pervert!”
She gave chase, an arm crossed over her chest. It wasn’t just for modesty. Big breasts like hers needed control, especially while she ran.
He led the chase, going inside. He had the head start and the edge in basic speed, but wasn’t invincible. Distraction slowed him down, glancing back towards her bouncing chest. He made it to the hallway. She caught him, but he turned it around, literally. With a spin, he put her back to the wall. He couldn’t hold the top out of her reach. Instead, he pinned her free arm above her head, giving her no chance to reach up and take it.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Jimmy? Let me go!” Her eyes tracked the top dangling from his fingers. However she squirmed, she couldn’t get loose. She had one arm above her head, and the other shielding her chest. No way would she--
The latter arm snapped out. He hadn’t expected it, but he reacted. The top dropped to the floor and he wrestled with her until both arms were pinned.
With her at his mercy, he took some time just to look at her. A blush covered her cheeks, while her bright blue eyes stared at him. Her chest heaved with breath, drawing his eye downwards. Big, ripe breasts, as beautiful to look at as he’d ever imagined. They sloped perfectly, and looked even heftier above her tight waist. Pale tan lines marked off her usual top, the one now at his feet. Pretty pink nipples pointed the way forward.
She fumed, turning her eyes away from him. “So, what? You wanted to stare at my tits, is that it? Gross.”
Again, her mocking words spurred him into action. Why should he just stare? He rearranged things until one arm barred both her wrists, and brought his other hand down. Her breast filled his palm with plenty to spare. Her creamy skin slid under his fingers, and her flesh was gorgeously soft as he gave her a good squeeze.
With a wince, she flinched away from him. “Oh my god, are you really that desperate to touch some boobs?”
He retaliated, taking her firm nipple between his fingers for a long pinch. That made her gasp and wriggle. Her back arched toward him, as if to lessen the pressure. Then he went right back to kneading her, rubbing her. She’d been nice to look at, sure, btu it felt even better to touch her. Yes, her breasts felt nice, but it was more than that. Every cringe fed his lust for retaliation. Finally, a chance to get even for all her mocking and teasing.
She turned ever redder as he continued. “Alright, you’ve felt me up. Are you done yet? Let me go already.”
He shook his head. “Not even close to done. I’ve got sixteen years of frustration.” He slapped her breast from the side, and watched it wobble while she hissed in pain.
She started fighting him again. Her arms were helpless, but she lifted a knee, ready to kick.
By reflex, he stepped in close, too close for her to reach. Something unexpected happened. That move pressed his hard bulge into the front of her bikini bottoms. Even through the layers of clothing, the sensation made them both gasp. He felt heat and another softness that caved under his pressure. That feeling proved addictive. He rocked against her, again and again. He focused so much on it, he forgot all about touching her chest.
With each push, Rachel squeaked. Her body grew hotter. “What are you doing? C’mon, cut it out!”
His lusts had too much momentum. He couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, and he didn’t. Still holding her arms up, he pulled his shorts down. It felt so much better to grind his bare, free shaft against her.
Her eyes grew wide. He thought he saw mixed emotions in there -- some fear, some excitement. Perhaps excitement from fear. “Wait.” She pulled back, her ass tight to the wall. Not far enough to escape him. “Jimmy, this isn’t funny anymore.” He undid the strings on her bottoms, and let them fall. “Stop!”
Instead, he pushed into her wet, waiting pussy. The feeling absorbed him, until he barely heard her cry of pain and pleasure. It was the best thing yet. It only got better as he slid deeper, feeling her tightness wrapping around his whole length. With each pump of his hips, his movements grew more certain. In the end, he just had to let his leash go. His body knew what it wanted.
As did Rachel’s, despite herself. Her eyes squeezed shut and her hips stayed still, but she couldn’t control everything. She couldn’t quiet her voice. He heard as her tone turned from anguish to enjoyment, with sweet moans of pleasure rewarding every thrust. She couldn’t keep her inner walls from flexing around him, squeezing him in even more blissful tightness. Her body had become his to play with.
The second he thought that, it was over. The thrill was too much, pushing him over the edge. Though he’d have liked to keep going, he found himself shuddering with climax, crying out in his own, lower voice. Without even a first thought, he came in her. His cock pulsed within her, spilling reckless seed. The orgasm felt like it lasted at least a few minutes, well after his cum stopped pouring ... but it too had to end eventually.
He slumped forwards. Though his muscles grew weak and weary, he made sure to use his weight to keep her pinned. She glared at him, her cheeks still red and her eyes stinging at the corners.
He looked back at her with a languid smile. “Now I’m done with you.” With that, he dropped her.
She thudded to the floor with an ‘oof’. After a second’s stun, she grabbed her clothes from the floor and got back to her feet. A pregnant pause lingered while she stayed in shock, staring at him and processing what had happened.
Then she slapped him hard, ran into her room, and slammed the door.
A moment later, it hit him. He’d just forced himself on his sister, of all people. Cold horror settled into the pit of his stomach. The lust was gone, replaced only by that chill of self-revulsion.
He retreated to his room and didn’t come out all day. He couldn’t face her. He didn’t want to. At the night’s end, he spent hours lying awake, trying not to think about what happened.
He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up in the dead of night. Consciousness came slowly. Darkness surrounded him. His bed felt uncomfortable, like it had weight on it at a bad angle. He fidgeted, and turned to try to get more comfortable.
Then he really woke, like water had been splashed in his face. Because he couldn’t move, not very far. Something held his arms in place above his head. He tugged a few times, figuring out the texture of it.
He didn’t think it felt like rope, not that he knew what that would feel like. After a few more tries, he figured it out. “Bedsheets?”
“Well, yeah.” Rachel’s voice. “It’s not like you keep proper handcuffs or anything in here. Like, god, I can only work with what you give me to work with.” She said it like he was somehow at fault for not making it easier for her to bind him.
He felt the heat rush to his cheeks. Guilt forgotten, he just fumed and struggled, trying to get his wrists free by pure force. “Hey, what are you doing? Let me go.”
“No way,” she said. “It’s payback time, little brother.” Smug malice overflowed from her tone.
She threw a leg over his lap, straddling his thighs. As he tried to shove her off, he found that his ankles were tied just like his wrists. Unless he could get something free, he wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t like his chances, but he fought anyway. Right up until Rachel’s hand found him.
It wasn’t a strike. It wasn’t violent at all. Her fingers just went to his boxer shorts, tracing his manhood. In the summer heat, those shorts were his only bed clothes. “Ooh. You’re already getting nice and hard, aren’t you?”
“You ... you shut up!” But he couldn’t actually deny it. He was shocked, horrified at the fact, but fact it remained. His manhood swelled, straining at his boxers even before she started teasing him. He tried to tell himself that it was just because of the excitement, the dangerous thrill that came with conflict. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought of what had happened just a few hours earlier. He thought of how intensely good her body had felt under his. Was it really any surprise that he’d grow excited at her being close again?
She just laughed, mirthful mockery in her tone. “Aw, no comeback this time? Having some trouble now you’re the one on bottom?” Her fingers kept moving, and he had to fight to keep from crying out with her touch. It was more than just teasing, too. She found the button on his boxers. With that open, she could easily fish out his length.
He hissed at the conflicting sensations: the cool air of his room and the warmth of her fingers. The latter gripped him, and she jerked him with soft little tugs.