I knew this holiday was going to be awkward the moment we walked into the hotel lobby. The receptionist smiled apologetically as she slid two key cards across the counter. “Here you go—one double room and… another double.”
Mum’s face dropped. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry,” the receptionist said, “but your booking was for two double rooms, not one double and two singles.”
Mum’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not what we asked for.”
Dad, ever the peacemaker, patted her shoulder. “It’s fine, love. The kids used to share all the time when they were little.”
I shot a panicked glance at Mark. He was already looking at me, eyebrows raised. Little? We were sixteen and seventeen now. That wasn’t happening.
But Mum sighed, rubbing her temples. “Fine. We’ll make it work. Just for tonight. Tomorrow, we sort this out.”
Yeah, right.
The sun was brutal. I lay on my stomach, the hot sand pressing into my skin, the scent of salt and coconut tanning oil thick in the air. My green bikini top strained against my chest as I reached behind me, struggling to smear suncream over my back.
“Need help?” Mark’s shadow fell over me.
I hesitated. “…Fine.”
He knelt beside me, the bottle clicking open. His hands were warm as they spread the cream over my shoulders, down my spine. I shivered as his fingers swept lower, smoothing over the curve of my waist, my hips—
Then his knuckle grazed the inside of my thigh.
I sucked in a breath.
“Oops,” he muttered.
I didn’t say anything.
After a day of swimming, too many cocktails (I was definitely tipsy), and laughter that felt weirdly natural between us, we finally trudged back to our room.
Mark stripped off his shirt, throwing it onto the chair. His muscles flexed as he stretched. I had to look away, pulling my nightie from my bag—thin, silky, and way too short.
“So.” He flopped onto the bed, patting the space beside him. “Guess we’re sharing.”
I swallowed hard. “Guess so.”
The air between us was thick. Too thick.
We lay on opposite sides of the mattress, the sheets crisp and cool. The silence stretched.
Then Mark cleared his throat. “You cold?”
I was. My arms had goosebumps. “A bit.”
His arm lifted slightly. “C’mere.”
I hesitated before inching closer, turning so my back was to him. His body heat soaked into me immediately, his chest against my shoulder blades, his breath warm on my neck.
I shifted.
His breath hitched.
I’d felt it—the hard press of him against my backside.
Oh God.
My hand crept down between my thighs before I could stop it, fingers brushing over the damp fabric of my underwear. I bit my lip, pressing in slow circles, heat bubbling low in my stomach.
Five minutes in, a soft whimper escaped me.
“You okay?” Mark’s voice was rough.
I stiffened. “Y-yeah.”
His hand slid down my thigh, fingertips brushing over my wrist—still caught between my legs.
My breath caught.
His fingers laced with mine, pressing harder against me.
I gasped. It was so wrong but I needed dick, but the thought of Mark spooning me and fucking me was wrong, or was it.
“Fuck, sis, you’re so wet, do you want my…” he suddenly stopped speaking. The unspoken word, ‘dick,’ hung heavy and potent in the air between us. His hand, still entwined with mine between my legs, tightened, pressing my fingers harder against my slick, swollen flesh. My breath hitched again, a tiny, strangled sound.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I want your…dick.” The word hung in the air, thick with desire and taboo.
Mark’s hand left mine, and I felt a momentary sense of loss. He shifted behind me pulling his boxers half down, “pull your knickers down.”
I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. This was so wrong, but the desire coursing through me was undeniable. I slowly pulled my underwear down, feeling the cool air against my exposed skin. I heard the rustle of fabric as Mark did the same.
He moved closer, his hard length pressing against my backside. I reached down between my legs, guiding him to my entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against my wet folds, and I gasped at the sensation.
His cock was so hot, a searing brand against my delicate flesh. The head, a smooth, slick mushroom, nudged and probed, sending a jolt right through me. A sharp intake of breath caught in my throat. This was really happening, wasn’t it? My brother, my brother, about to slide inside me. My mind screamed wrong, but my body was screaming something else entirely. It was a primal, desperate need that overruled everything.
“Easy, sis,” Mark’s voice was a low growl against my ear, husky and thick with his own desire. His hand, warm and firm, wrapped around my hip, pulling me back just a fraction. “Let’s get you ready for it, eh?”
He didn’t push straight in. Instead, I felt the tip of his cock draw a slow, wet line along my clitoris, then down to my perineum, before tracing a circle around my pussy lips. Oh, the exquisite torture! My hips twitched involuntarily, a soft moan bubbling up. The wetness between my legs was no longer just damp; it was a gushing river, hot and insistent. I could feel my inner lips swelling, throbbing, practically begging for him.
“God, Mark,” I whimpered, my voice barely a whisper. “Please, just… just put it in.”
He chuckled, a dark, rich sound that vibrated through me. “Impatience, eh? Don’t worry, love. Plenty to come.” His fingers, still on my hip, began to knead the soft flesh, his thumb occasionally brushing the edge of my exposed mound. The small hairs there, suddenly so sensitive, stood on end. “You’re so tight, Amy. So incredibly tight and wet.”
Then, a new sensation. He pressed the head of his cock firmly against my entrance, not quite inside, but pushing enough that my lips parted, stretching. I could feel the wet slide of him, the give of my own skin. A delicious, aching pressure built in my core.
“Just the tip for now, yeah?” he murmured, and then, with a slow, deliberate push, the very peak of his cock broke through my opening.
I gasped, a sharp, choked sound. It wasn’t painful, not exactly, but it was an intense stretch, a feeling of being filled that was utterly overwhelming. It was alien, yet strangely familiar, like it was always meant to be there. The velvety smoothness of his shaft, the hot, slick resistance of my own body. Could I really take all of him?
He paused, letting me adjust, letting the sensation sink in. His breath hitched behind me, ragged and uneven. “Fuck, Amy,” he ground out, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “You feel… incredible. So warm, so… grasping.”
My muscles clenched around him involuntarily, a natural reaction, a desperate need to pull him deeper. “More,” I pleaded, my voice thick with unshed tears and burning desire. “Please, Mark. All of it.”
He didn’t need asking twice. With a powerful, measured thrust, he plunged in. All of him.
A scream tore from my throat, quickly muffled by the pillow. My back arched, my fingers clawing at the sheets. It was a dizzying rush of sensation – a stretching, a ripping, a deep, intense fullness that I’d never imagined possible. He filled me completely, from front to back, every inch of his hard, throbbing cock buried deep inside my wet, welcoming core. My tight canal gripped him, milking him, making him groan.
“Fuck!” he roared, a raw, primal sound. His hips slammed against my backside, pinning me to the mattress. “Oh, God, Amy! You’re so fucking good! So tight!”
He pulled back, almost completely out, leaving just the head to tease my clitoris and the mouth of my pussy, and then slammed back in again with a violent, urgent thrust. Thwack. The sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed in the room, wet and loud, almost disgusting in its raw honesty. My own moan, a long, drawn-out vowel, joined the symphony.
“Oh, Mark! Yes! Oh, fuck yes!” My hips lifted, instinctively meeting his thrusts, trying to take him even deeper. My ass cheeks jiggled with each impact, my tits, freed from the bikini, bounced slightly beneath me, the sensitive nipples brushing against the cool sheets, sending shivers through me. My green nightie was tangled around my waist, useless, forgotten.
He pulled out again, his cock slick and gleaming, then plunged in with another deep, guttural grunt. “Ugh! Argh!” he panted, his breath hot on my neck, his body a solid, powerful weight pressing into me. “You feel so… so slutty, sis. Like you were made for this. Didn’t you know?”
The word, “slutty,” should have stung, should have made me recoil, but in that moment, as his cock slammed into me again and again, it felt like a perverse compliment. My body was responding in ways I never knew it could, shamelessly arching, grinding against him, desperate for more of his forbidden pleasure.
“I… I didn’t know,” I choked out, trying to breathe, trying to articulate through the overwhelming sensations. My head was spinning. “But now… now I do. Oh, God.”
He started to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more relentless. Thwack, thwack, thwack. The bed creaked rhythmically under our combined weight. I could hear MY pussy squelching with each withdrawal and re-entry of his cock, a thick, wet, slurping sound that was both obscene and incredibly arousing. I could almost feel my internal organs being shifted by the force of his penetration.
“Look at you, all spread open for me,” he breathed, his voice ragged, a mix of awe and pure lust. He shifted his weight slightly, lifting his torso, and I managed to crane my neck, twisting my head around to look between my legs.
There it was. His magnificent, thick cock, slick with my juices, sliding in and out of my pussy. The sight was intoxicating. My labia, swollen and red, pulled taut with each thrust, then relaxed slightly before stretching again. I could see the glistening head of his cock emerge, dark and veiny, before disappearing back into my wet depths with a forceful plunge. It was a beautiful, disgusting spectacle. My own fingers, still clutching the sheets, flexed, wanting to touch, wanting to feel.
My clitoris, swollen and engorged, rubbed against the sheets with each movement, a constant, escalating friction that was pushing me closer and closer to the edge. “Oh, Mark, yes! Faster! Oh, please, Mark, fuck me! Fuck me hard!” I begged, my voice hoarse, almost unrecognisable. My vision blurred slightly, a haze of white hot desire. Each stroke sent shivers down my spine, making me writhe beneath him.
He responded to my plea, his body a piston, driving into me with a furious intensity. His grunts turned into deep, animalistic roars. “Ungh! Urgh! FUCK! You’re so tight!” he gasped, his muscles straining, his sweat mingling with mine. The bed slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust.
“Mark! Oh, Mark! I’m… I’m almost there! Oh, God!” My voice was high-pitched, a desperate keen. My whole body began to tremble uncontrollably, a delicious tremor building deep within my core. What was happening to me? Was this truly my brother? Was this truly me? The thought was fleeting, swallowed by the tidal wave of sensation.
He pushed even deeper, hitting a spot inside me that made me cry out, a raw, guttural wail. His cock scraped against my cervix, a sensation that was borderline painful, yet exquisitely pleasurable, pushing me right over the edge.
“Fuck! You’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel it! Come on, Amy! Come for me!” he urged, his voice thick with his own impending release. He pulled out almost completely, just the head buried inside, and then plunged back in with one final, earth-shattering thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
My vision exploded in a kaleidoscope of colours. Every muscle in my body seized, convulsing around his cock. A long, drawn-out scream ripped from my throat, raw and unrestrained, as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy washed over me. My eyes squeezed shut, tears pricking at the corners. My hips bucked violently, grinding against his, milking every last drop of pleasure from him.
“Oh, Mark! Oh, GOD! I’m… I’m CUMMING!” I shrieked, my voice cracking, lost in the throes of my orgasm. The spasms intensified, pulling me tighter and tighter around his throbbing cock. The feeling was overwhelming, indescribable, a pure, unadulterated release that left me breathless and shaking.
And then, I felt him tense, his body rigid above me. He let out a final, roaring grunt, a sound of pure male abandon. “Aaaargh! A-Amy! I’m… I’M CUMMING!” he bellowed, his hips slamming into me one last, powerful time. I felt the hot, pulsing surge of his cum deep inside me, a warm, thick liquid filling me even more completely. It was a shocking, visceral sensation, the ultimate merging of our bodies, of our forbidden desires.
He collapsed onto me, his heavy weight pinning me to the mattress, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His cock, still buried deep inside, throbbed, slowly deflating but still intensely full. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and something else – a faint tang of salt and the lingering sweetness of coconut. We lay there, tangled and spent, the silence in the room punctuated only by our heavy breathing and the steady thrum of my own receding orgasm. What had we just done? And more importantly, what were we going to do now?