A Taste of Forbidden Fruit

The tires of my aunt’s SUV crunched on the familiar gravel driveway, signaling the end of a long summer away and my return to a home that felt both known and strangely foreign. The summer had been… formative. My aunt, a vibrant woman with a laugh that could power a small city, had insisted I spend it with her at the lake house after a particularly nasty breakup that had left me, in her words, “moping around like a kicked puppy.” She’d packed my days with sun, water sports, and just enough cheap beer to keep things interesting. As she put the car in park, she turned to me with that knowing smile of hers, the one that always hinted she was three steps ahead of everyone else.

“Well, here we are. Home sweet home,” she said, her voice a mix of warmth and something else I couldn’t quite place. She reached over and brushed a strand of hair from my forehead, her fingers lingering just a second too long. “You were a perfect gentleman all summer. So obedient. I almost didn’t want to bring you back.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. It wasn’t a chaste, familial peck. It was slow, deliberate, a kiss that tasted of her cherry lip gloss and the promise of things I’d only fantasized about. It sent a jolt straight through me, a lightning bolt of pure, unadulterated desire that left me breathless and rock hard in my jeans. She pulled back, her eyes sparkling. “Be good,” she whispered, her voice husky, before giving me a wink that felt like a brand. “Or don’t. Your sister’s inside. She’s been… lonely.”

With that, she drove off, leaving me standing there on the driveway with my duffel bag and a head spinning with confusion and a raw, aching need. Lonely. The word echoed in my mind, mixing with the lingering sensation of her kiss. I took a deep breath, trying to will the erection to subside, and pushed open the front door.

The house was quiet, cool, and dim compared to the bright summer afternoon outside. “Hello? Anyone home?” I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the hallway.

“In the kitchen!” a voice called back. It was my sister, Chloe.

I dropped my bag by the stairs and followed the sound. The sight that greeted me in the kitchen stopped me dead in my tracks. Chloe was standing on her tiptoes, her back to me, rummaging through a top cabinet. She was wearing a thin, worn-out gray cotton tank top and a pair of incredibly short denim cut-offs that hugged the perfect, round curves of her ass. She must have just gotten out of the shower; her damp, dark hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and the scent of her coconut shampoo filled the air. The summer away had made me forget just how fucking gorgeous she was.

“Hey, you,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “Aunt Lisa texted me you were on your way. How was the trip?” She turned her attention back to the cabinet, stretching higher, causing the hem of her tank top to ride up and expose the smooth, pale skin of her lower back and the tantalizing hint of the waistband of her panties.

My dick, which had barely begun to calm down, was now painfully hard again, straining against the zipper of my jeans. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. All I could think about was my aunt’s kiss, her words, the way Chloe’s body looked right now. I stopped trying to hide it. What was the point?

“Trip was good. Long. Really good,” I managed to say, my voice thicker than I intended. I walked up behind her, supposedly to help. “What are you trying to get? The good glasses?”

“Yeah, the wine glasses. I think Mom shoved them way in the back after Thanksgiving,” she said, grunting slightly with the effort.

I was now directly behind her, my body just inches from hers. I could feel the heat radiating from her. I reached up, my arm brushing against hers, and pretended to search the cabinet. My other hand found its way to her hip, ostensibly to steady her. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned back into me slightly, her ass pressing against my raging hard-on.

A soft, almost imperceptible gasp escaped her lips. She froze. I froze. The air in the kitchen became thick and charged, like right before a thunderstorm. I could feel the frantic beat of her heart through the thin fabric of her tank top. This was it. The point of no return.

I didn’t move my hand from her hip. Instead, I pressed myself more firmly against her, my cock nestled perfectly between the incredible cheeks of her ass, even through our clothes. The friction was insane. I let out a low groan against her damp neck, inhaling her scent—coconut and clean, feminine skin.

“Ian…” she breathed out, her voice a shaky whisper. It wasn’t a protest. It was a question.

“I missed you, Chloe,” I murmured into her ear, my voice rough with desire. I began to move, just subtle, slow thrusts against her, my hands gripping her hips tighter. “I thought about you all summer.”

“You… you did?” she stammered, her head tilting to the side, giving me better access to her neck. Her body was still tense, but she wasn’t pushing me away. She was melting back into me.

“Yeah,” I growled, nipping at her earlobe. “I thought about this. About you.” I slid one hand from her hip, around her waist, and up her stomach, my fingers splaying across her softness before moving higher, until my palm cupped one of her small, perfect breasts through the cotton of her tank top. I felt her nipple harden instantly against my hand. A sharp, needy moan escaped her lips, and her hand came up to clutch my wrist, not to pull it away, but to hold it there.

“Oh, God, Ian…” she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed. Her other hand, which had been braced against the cabinet, fell to her side.

“Tell me to stop,” I whispered, even as I continued to rock against her, my fingers rolling her nipple. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I’ll walk away right now.”

She was silent for a long moment, her breath coming in ragged little pants. I could feel the internal war raging within her. Then, her grip on my wrist tightened. “Don’t you dare stop,” she finally whispered, the words filled with a desperate hunger that mirrored my own.

That was all the permission I needed. I spun her around to face me, her back now against the counter. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide and dark with a mix of shock and pure lust. I didn’t give her time to think. I crashed my lips down on hers, kissing her with all the pent-up hunger from the summer, from the drive, from a lifetime of secretly wanting my own sister.

Her kiss was hesitant at first, then frantic, her hands coming up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. She tasted like mint toothpaste and innocence about to be thoroughly corrupted. My hands were everywhere—cupping her face, sliding down her back to grab two handfuls of her incredible ass, squeezing and kneading as I ground my hips into hers.

I broke the kiss, both of us gasping for air. “Fuck, Chloe,” I breathed, looking down at her. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I’m starting to get an idea,” she said with a shaky, breathless laugh, her eyes darting down to the prominent bulge in my jeans.

I grinned, that same slick, professional charm I used to close deals on commercial properties effortlessly shifting into something far more primal. “Let me show you,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble. I dropped to my knees in front of her, my hands sliding up her smooth thighs, pushing the frayed denim of her shorts aside. She let out a little yelp of surprise as I hooked my fingers into the sides of her simple cotton panties and pulled them down to her ankles in one swift motion.

She was completely bare and exposed to me, and she was beautiful. Gloriously wet and already swollen for me. The clean, musky scent of her arousal hit me, and I groaned, diving in without another second of hesitation. I buried my face between her legs, my tongue finding her clit immediately, licking and sucking with a fervor I usually reserved for the most demanding clients.

Her hands flew to my head, her fingers gripping my hair as her knees buckled. “Ian! Oh, my God! What are you—oh, fuck!” she cried out, her hips bucking against my mouth. Her words dissolved into a series of incoherent, high-pitched moans. I held her hips steady, pinning her against the kitchen counter as I ate her out like a man starved. I licked broad, flat strokes, then focused on tight, rapid circles around her sensitive bud, listening to her sounds, learning what made her gasp and what made her scream.

“You taste so fucking good, sis,” I growled against her wetness, the vulgarity seeming to electrify her even more. Her orgasm hit her suddenly and violently. Her whole body tensed, a strangled cry tore from her throat, and her thighs clamped around my head as she shuddered through the waves of her climax. I didn’t let up, gentling my tongue but continuing to lap at her, drawing out every last spasm until she was weakly pushing at my shoulders, oversensitive and breathless.

I stood up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, looking down at her. She was a wreck—hair coming undone, lips kiss-swollen, eyes glazed with pleasure and shock. I unbuttoned my jeans, finally freeing my aching cock. It stood straight out, thick and veined and desperate for her.

“Your turn,” I said, my voice hoarse.

Her eyes widened as she looked at it. “Ian… I… are you sure? What if—”

I cut her off with another deep kiss. “No what-ifs,” I murmured against her lips. “Just us. Right now.” I lifted her up effortlessly, sitting her on the cold granite of the kitchen counter. She wrapped her legs around my waist instinctively, her core pressing against my stomach. I positioned the head of my cock at her entrance, which was slick with her cum and my saliva. She was so tight, so warm. I looked into her eyes, seeing the last flickers of doubt being consumed by pure, animal need.

“Tell me you want this,” I demanded, holding myself still, teasing us both.

“I want it,” she gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders. “I want you, Ian. Please.”

That was all I needed. I thrust into her in one smooth, powerful motion, burying myself to the hilt inside my little sister. She cried out, a sharp sound of pleasure-pain that was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. She was incredibly tight, and for a moment, I just stayed there, buried deep, letting her adjust to the feeling of me filling her up.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, her head falling back. “You’re so big.”

I began to move, slowly at first, setting a deep, rhythmic pace. Each thrust made the counter shake slightly, rattling the dishes inside. The sounds were obscene—our ragged breathing, the wet slap of our bodies meeting, her soft, continuous moans. I fucked her there on the kitchen counter like I owned her, my hands gripping her ass, pulling her onto me with every thrust.

“You like that?” I grunted, watching her face contort in pleasure. “You like your big brother’s cock?”

“Yes! Yes!” she chanted, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t stop, Ian, please don’t stop!”

I shifted my angle, driving into her deeper, hitting a spot that made her eyes fly open in shock. “Right there! Oh, God, right there!” she screamed. I held that angle, pounding into her relentlessly, my own orgasm building like a tidal wave. Her second climax washed over her almost immediately; her inner muscles clenched around me like a vise, milking my cock, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.

With a guttural roar, I came, pumping jet after jet of my cum deep inside her, my body shuddering with the force of it. I collapsed against her, my forehead resting on her shoulder, both of us slick with sweat and trying to catch our breath.

We stayed like that for a long time, connected, the only sound our pounding hearts slowly returning to normal. I finally pulled out of her, a mix of our fluids slick on her thighs and the counter. She winced slightly but didn’t move, just looked at me with those big, dazed eyes.

I reached out and gently traced the line of her jaw. “So,” I said, my professional smoothness returning as a sly grin spread across my face. “What’s the market analysis on brother-sister property management?”