The car ride to the lake was already testing my patience. Ryan had one hand on the wheel and the other messing with the radio, flipping through static and old rock stations like he couldn’t decide on a mood.
“Why are we even doing this?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. My top was tugging a little low from the way I sat, and I tugged it up without thinking.
Ryan glanced over with a smirk. “Because you’re eighteen, Helen. You’re supposed to be living a little. You’ve been cooped up at home like some spinster librarian.”
I rolled my eyes. “I like being cooped up.”
“You like being boring.” His grin widened. “You’ll thank me later. Fresh air, no Wi-Fi, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll let loose.”
I snorted, staring out the window as the trees blurred into a thick green. “I let loose.”
“You don’t even drink.” His voice pitched higher like he was mocking me.
“Alcohol is overrated.”
“Said no fun person ever.”
The cabin looked like something out of one of those old horror movies. Wood-panelled walls, a creaky porch, and a lake shimmering in the late afternoon sun just behind it. Ryan grabbed our bags and tossed mine onto the porch like it was nothing, while I struggled with the one in my hand.
“You should work out,” he teased, flexing his bicep. “I’ll be your trainer.”
“You’re such a show-off.” I rolled my eyes but smiled despite myself.
Inside, it smelled like cedar and a little mildew. The furniture was old but cosy, and the windows opened to views of the lake and mountains. Honestly, it wasn’t terrible.
Ryan dumped his bag in the corner and stretched. His shirt lifted just enough to show off his abs, and I groaned internally. He’d always been the golden child—athletic, charming, annoyingly perfect. Meanwhile, I was the nerdy little sister who liked books and quiet corners.
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands. “Time to loosen you up. Beer?”
“No.” I plopped onto the couch, crossing my legs. My skirt hiked up a little, but I didn’t bother fixing it.
“C’mon. You’re at a cabin by a lake. It’s practically a crime not to drink.”
“It’s also illegal for me, genius.”
Ryan shrugged and disappeared into the tiny kitchen, returning with two beers anyway. He cracked one open and handed it to me.
“Ryan, I said no.”
“And I said yes. Just try it.”
I glared at him, but he stared back with that annoyingly persuasive smile. With a sigh, I took the bottle and sniffed it. Bitter, metallic. Gross.
“You sip it, not sniff it, weirdo.”
I took a tiny sip and winced. “This is awful.”
“You get used to it. Like spinach or calculus.”
By the time the sun dipped behind the mountains, I’d finished the beer—and then another. My head felt light, and everything was a little funnier. Ryan sat across from me at the kitchen table, nursing his own drink, and his teasing had ramped up as the evening went on.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Why don’t you ever go out? You’re not, like, secretly married or something, right?”
I laughed too loud. “What? No.”
“Surprised you haven’t had a kid by now. Some girls your age already do.”
“Ryan!” My face burned. “That’s—no. Just no.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Why not?”
“Because!” I stammered. “I’m still a—” I clamped my mouth shut, but it was too late.
Ryan’s grin widened into something almost wicked. “Oh. My. God. You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?”
I covered my face with my hands. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” He laughed, the sound rich and teasing. “That’s cute. Innocent little Helen.”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, come on. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Some guy’s going to think that’s hot.”
My heart raced, and I peeked at him through my fingers. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?”
“Fine, fine.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, but his eyes still sparkled with mischief. “But you should try it sometime. You might actually have fun.”
I glared at him, but my cheeks stayed hot. The way he said it—casual, teasing—made me squirm in my seat. I took another sip of my beer, hoping the alcohol would drown out my embarrassment.
“God, you’re such an ass,” I muttered.
“And you love me for it.”
The night deepened, the stars spilling across the sky like glitter. We moved to the couch, a bottle of whiskey between us now. Ryan was slouching, his legs stretched out and his arm draped over the back of the couch. I sat curled up, my legs tucked under me, my skirt riding up just enough to make me self-conscious.
“Remember when we used to come here as kids?” he asked, his voice softer now, a little hazy from the drinks.
“Yeah.” I smiled. “You always made me swim out too far.”
“You needed the push.”
“I could’ve drowned.”
“But you didn’t.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re uptight.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. The whiskey was warm in my stomach, and I felt looser than I had in ages. Ryan’s hand brushed against my arm, and I glanced at him. His eyes were darker now, more serious.
“You know,” he said, his voice low, “you’re not as shy as you think.”
“What?” I blinked at him, caught off guard.
He leaned closer, his hand slipping to the small of my back. His fingers were warm, and firm, and it sent a shiver up my spine.
“You just need someone to show you.” His breath was soft against my cheek.
My heart hammered in my chest, and I couldn’t tell if it was the whiskey or him—or both. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.
The moment stretched, heavy and electric.
Then he smiled, slow and knowing, like he’d just dared me to cross a line.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop him as the alcohol let me loosen up, way too much.
His hand rested on my bare thighs stroking them, “I still can’t believe you’re a virgin. You look worried are you ok Helen, I am here for you ok.”
I froze, the air around us suddenly feeling too thick, too warm. His hand was steady, the stroke of his thumb against my skin deliberate but slow, almost comforting. My mind scrambled for words, but everything felt tangled, heavy with the weight of what was—or wasn’t—happening.
“I’m fine,” I finally managed, though my voice betrayed me, shaky and thin. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, wishing I could just disappear into the couch cushions. “Really, Ryan. I’m fine.”
His eyes held mine, darker now, the teasing glint replaced by something softer, more serious. “You don’t look fine.”
“Well, maybe I’m just drunk,” I blurted, trying to inject some levity into the moment, to make it less… intense.
Ryan didn’t laugh. His hand stayed where it was, warm and unyielding, and his gaze didn’t waver. “You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you, right?”
“Nothing’s bothering me,” I lied, the words tumbling out too fast.
“So my hand doesn’t bother you, should I stop,” he said as his hand went too far.
I stiffened, the tension snapping taut between us like a frayed wire about to break. His hand lingered, not moving but still impossibly present, its weight and warmth sending a chaotic flurry of sensations through me.
“Ryan,” I said, my voice shaky, barely more than a whisper. “What are you doing?”
He held my gaze, his expression unreadable now as if he were trying to decide whether to push forward or pull back. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice low and rough. “You just… don’t tell me to stop.”
My breath hitched, and I felt my pulse thudding hard in my ears. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to figure it out.”
The words escaped before I could stop them, and I bit my lip hard, wishing I could take them back. His eyes darkened at that, his lips parting slightly as if he were about to say something, but then his hand shifted, just slightly, the movement subtle but electrifying.
“Are you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, barely audible over the rush of blood in my ears.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My mind was spinning, the whiskey clouding my thoughts and blurring the lines between what I wanted and what I knew I shouldn’t want. His hand was still on me, warm and firm, and I felt trapped in the moment, unable to move forward or back.
“Say something, Helen,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. His breath was warm against my skin, and the scent of whiskey and cedar filled the small space between us. “Tell me if I’m crossing a line.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and finally forced myself to speak. “I don’t know where the line is anymore.”
His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe there isn’t one.”
The air between us was thick and suffocating, every second stretching out into what felt like an eternity. I should have pushed him away and ended whatever this was, but my body didn’t move, frozen in a mix of fear, confusion, and something I didn’t want to name.
“Ryan…” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I… I should stop you but… I don’t want you to is that bad, I want you.”
“No,” he said softly, his voice low and steady his hand going higher. “It’s not bad, Helen, I want you too.”
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his hand sliding higher as his lips hovered just inches from mine.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the tension in his tone making my heart race even faster.
“Yes,” I breathed, my voice trembling but resolute. “I’m sure.”
Ryan’s lips hovered close, his hand still resting against my skin. But this time, there wasn’t just heat; there was a pause, a moment where the weight of everything seemed to settle between us.
“Helen,” he said softly, his voice steadier than before. “If you don’t want this—if you’re not sure—we can stop. I mean it.”
The way he looked at me, his usual smirk absent and his eyes holding nothing but sincerity, made my heart skip. I could feel my pulse racing, my thoughts tangled in a mess of nerves, curiosity, and a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name.
“I’m sure,” I said, nervous but my first-ever kiss.
“You’re not nervous?” he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper.
I nodded, my cheeks flushing. “I am, a little.”
His lips quirked into a small smile, the teasing glint in his eyes returning. “You hide it well.”
“I don’t feel like I’m hiding it at all,” I admitted, my voice shaky. “But… I want this.”
Ryan’s thumb traced a slow circle on my lower back, his touch grounding me. “We can take it slow, Helen,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper. “I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”
I let out a nervous laugh, shaking my head. “I think I’d regret not trying.”
His grin widened, and he leaned in again, this time with more confidence. His lips found mine, firmer now, more deliberate. My mind raced, every nerve in my body buzzing, but I let myself get lost in the moment, in him.
Time seemed to blur as we kissed, the lines between past and present, hesitation and desire, all fading. His hands were gentle but sure, and when his fingers brushed against the bare skin of my shoulder where my strap had slipped, I shivered as we slowly started to lay on the couch still kissing.
For a moment, he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine. His eyes, dark and intense, searched my face, his breathing uneven. “We can stop,” he murmured, his voice rough but sincere. “If this feels like too much, just say the word.”
I shook my head, my fingers tightening against his shirt. “I don’t want to stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Not now.”
A flicker of something—relief, desire, maybe both—crossed his expression, and he leaned in again, his lips brushing mine with a tenderness that sent a shiver down my spine. His hand found its way to my thigh, his touch firm but not insistent, like he was waiting for me to set the pace. I shifted under him, my body responding instinctively, and his breath hitched as I kissed him back with more confidence.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and raw, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying.
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, a mix of disbelief and something that felt suspiciously like joy. “You’re just saying that because we’re here,” I teased, though my voice wavered.
“No, Helen.” He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes as he looked down at me beneath him, his hand cupping my cheek, his hand going up my skirt. “I’ve always thought it.”
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue exploring my mouth with a hunger that made my heart race. His hand slid higher, his fingers slipping beneath the edge of my panties. I gasped, arching my back as he touched me, my body trembling with need.
He broke the kiss, his eyes searching mine. “Are you sure about this?”
“Y-yes,” I panted nervously, were we about to have sex, I was scared as I am a virgin, it might hurt. “Don’t stop… be.. g-gentle.”
Ryan nodded, his eyes filled with fierce determination. “Always,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion.
As he unbuckled his belt, I felt a sudden wave of panic. What was I doing? This was my brother! But then he looked at me with such intense desire that it made my heart race. He slowly began to slide my pink panties to the side, and I knew this was real.
He positioned himself between my legs, and for a moment, we just stared into each other’s eyes. Then he spat on his hand and lubed his cock as he slowly pressed himself inside me, breaking through the thin barrier of skin that had never been breached before.
The pain was sharp and intense but fleeting as Ryan moved deeper inside me with slow deliberate movements until finally his cock was seated inside my pussy.
“It hurts Ryan,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
“I know,” he murmured back, his breath hot against my neck. “But I promise it’ll feel good soon.” He began to move inside me with a steady rhythm that quickly became more urgent as the pain faded away and was replaced by a deep, pulsing pleasure.
“Ah,” I moaned as he slowly moved in and out of me.
“You… you ok,” he asked as he panted as he kept on sliding in and out.
I nodded, my hands clutching at his broad, strong shoulders. My eyes fluttered shut as I felt him deep inside me, filling me up in a way I had never experienced before. “Yes,” I murmured. “It feels so good.”
“Good,” he said hoarsely, his face buried in the crook of my neck as he thrust into me. “Just relax and enjoy it, shit your pussy feels so good.”
His hand slid up my shirt, cupping my breast through the lace of my bra before slipping underneath to touch bare skin.
“Your tits feel good too,” he mumbled against my ear, his breath hot and moist. “I never thought I’d be doing this with you.”
“Me neither,” I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper as I felt him sliding in and out of me. “But it feels so good.”
He chuckled softly, his breath hot against my skin. “I know it does,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “That’s why we’re doing this.”
Ryan’s thrusts became more urgent, his hips slamming against mine with a force that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me.
“Ahhh… Umm.. Ummm,” I moaned as Ryan pumped me harder into the couch.
“Ungh… ahh fuck,” he grunted looking into my eyes.
As Ryan pumped into me harder and faster, I could feel the pressure building deep inside me. My fingers dug into his shoulders as I arched my back, my moans growing louder and more desperate.
“You’re going to make me cum,” he grunted, his face buried against my neck.
“Yes, fuck me harder,” I begged, my voice thick with lust. I had never felt anything so intensely pleasurable before. It was like every nerve in my body was on fire.
Ryan’s hips snapped against mine, driving his cock deep inside me with each thrust. The wet sounds of our fucking filled the room, mixing with our moans and grunts.
“Oh god, I’m cumming,” I cried out, my body tensing as the orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. My pussy clamped down around Ryan’s cock as I squirted, gushing fluid all over his cock and balls.
Ryan groaned loudly as he felt my pussy squirt around him. He pulled out of me quickly, his cock slick with my juices. Before I could catch my breath, he grabbed me and pulled me off the couch, bending me over the armrest.
“I need to fuck this pussy more,” he growled, lining his cock back up with my soaked entrance.
“Yes, fuck me hard,” I moaned, pushing my ass back against him. I was still coming down from my intense orgasm but I needed more. I needed to feel his cock stretching me open again.
Ryan slammed into me from behind, his hips smacking against my ass as he fucked me hard and deep. The new angle had him hitting spots inside me I didn’t even know I had.
“Fuck, your pussy feels so good,” he grunted, his hands gripping my hips hard.
I could only moan in response, my words lost in the haze of pleasure. Being taken like this, so roughly and completely, was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was wrong on so many levels, but it felt so right.
“Arghh sis, oh fuck UNGH,” he slammed harder and harder. His cock jerking and pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside me with a groan.
We collapsed together over the back of the couch, both of us panting and sweating. I could feel his cum leaking out of me already.
“That was incredible,” Ryan said after a long moment, his voice hoarse.
“You’re incredible,” I replied, a satisfied smile on my face. As the fog of lust started to clear, reality began to set in. He gave my pussy a little rub.
We had just had sex. My brother and I. It was the most taboo thing imaginable. But as wrong as it was, it had felt so, so right. At least in the moment.
I knew there would be consequences. We would have to deal with what we had done. But for now, I just wanted to bask in the afterglow, safe in the knowledge that my brother had made me a woman.