excerpts from My Stepbrother: A Sexual Revelation
by Sophie S. Pierucci
I force myself, sometimes. To try and imagine what it’s like to actually relate to another human being… not just to finally experience sex. As far as I’m concerned, the desire that most women feel is nothing but hormones and chemical interactions. I try to communicate. But oddly enough, I am incapable of talking about anything without touching on science. Example: if a guy asks me if I like his voice, I’m not going to tell him that his timbre makes me quiver. Instead, I will almost certainly say that his larynx isn’t muscled enough to allow his vocal cords to produce higher-pitched sounds.
Yes. I am a freak of nature. So I keep my mouth shut and avoid relationships.
[...]
“Well, I’m going to tell you: you make them want. I want to make someone want. Teach me.”
She’s nuts! She has no idea of what she’s asking. Why? Because Cassie isn’t my real sister, because she already makes me want, and I don’t want to want her. I decide to play dumb, “How to be a slut?”
“No! How to go out, to live like other people do. To have friends.”
“You must have friends already.”
“They’re all nerds who, like me, prefer spending hours in a library to getting laid. If I talk to them about bras, they’ll give me a definition and delineate the different categories without telling me which one would be best for my figure.”
A push-up. Unconsciously, my eyes drift toward her cleavage, her perfect, milky skin, with a soft, silky allure. She clicks her tongue and I get ahold of myself. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the only ladies’ man that I know. I just want you to give me some pointers, to stop me from blathering, to teach me how to behave around a man.”
How to behave around a man? I get up from her bed. Why did I have to follow her? I sift through the contents of my pocket, searching for the receipt. Empty. Well almost. There’s always a condom. “Fuck, Cassie, you’re my stepsister!”
“Exactly. You can’t let me down. I need you.”
[...]
Cassie shrugs her shoulders, and as she tries to take a step toward the stairs, I grab her by the hand and beckon her to follow me. She plays along. Jamie begins to count, and by the count of five we reach the closet under the stairs. Unfortunately, I miscalculated. This closet is too narrow. As soon as the door closes, we find ourselves pressed together one against the other in complete darkness. In the surrounding chaos, I try to make a little space by pushing away the shoes with my feet and the suspended coats with my hands. It’s a wasted effort. Cassie manages to retreat a few inches to reach the wall behind her, but our legs remain entangled and her hands are still glued to my torso.
“This was a very bad idea,” whispers Cassie.
She doesn’t know how right she is. Her sweet perfume titillates me and her breath is so close to my cheek that I can tell she drank lemonade with dinner. My blood pulses in the hand poised below her waist, and along the length of my cock, held hostage by her thigh.
“We should have hidden in two different places. Jamie is sure to win if he finds us,” she says, breathless.
The sound of her breathing is agonizing. It’s like I imagined it would be if I kissed her savagely. “That’s the point, Cassie. I like to see Jamie win.”
I feel her head move back and forth in a gesture of disapproval. Her forehead caresses my chin, and her lips graze my neck.
“That’s ridiculous. In real life, you can’t just get by with a smile. Jamie will come across unscrupulous people and he will have to fight to come out on top.”
Her fingers slide intimately along my silk shirt. My heart beats loudly and rapidly. I’m hot. Very hot. “Cassie, this is just child’s play. I did the same thing with you when we were playing Star Wars the other day.”
She fidgets, trying to push me away.
“Stop moving!” I growl.
She freezes, her fingers spearing my shirt as if she were about to throw me a right hook.
“Don’t treat me like a child!”
She moves up and down, hips swaying. Even though we’re in the dark, I instinctively close my eyes to calm myself. My body goes wild; I am white-hot. I am ignited by the feeling of her thigh between my legs, of her fingers clinging to my shirt, of her breath on my neck. I immobilize her with a firm gesture, one hand on her free thigh and the other on her waist. “I won’t treat you like a child anymore, but I’m begging you, stop wiggling!” I plead.
I pull her to me. Her fingers tremble as fast as the beating of my heart. I’m getting to her. This position isn’t any better than the previous one. In the struggle, I notice that her dress has crept up, and my hand quivers on her naked skin. She is as hot as I am.
[...]
I reduce the distance between our faces and caress her lips with mine. My breath is cut short. Her lips are soft, moist, and burning. I slide my hand along her neck, my fingers in her hair. I have never taken so much time to kiss a girl. Maybe I’m afraid I’ll no longer be able to do without it. I part my lips and place them on hers. This kiss is magical. Nothing else matters except Cassie’s mouth. I pour my heart and soul into it and, above all, with my gentleness, I hope to tell her that I want to be more than just a teacher. I kiss her several times. Tenderly, as if I didn’t want to break her, not because she’s fragile but because she is precious to me. To the point of believing that she is irreplaceable in my life. I lick her lower lip, taste her. The pressure mounts in my cock between her fingers. Her movements are frenzied; she is as aroused as I am.
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