Snowed in with big brother and wow he was big

It started with the storm. A relentless blizzard descended upon us, burying the world outside in layers of white. The wind howled, rattling the old windows of the cabin, and the power flickered in and out like a heartbeat. It was just me, Dahlia, and my brother, Asher, trapped in this wooden retreat our parents had left us for the weekend. They hadn’t planned on the snow, no one had, and now, as the night settled in, we were alone, cut off from everything but each other.

I stood by the fireplace, the only source of warmth and light in the room, watching the flames dance. My reflection flickered in the glass, and I caught sight of myself—dark waves of hair cascading over my shoulders, falling past my waist in silky ribbons. My skin glowed in the firelight, the soft curve of my bare shoulder exposed by the oversized sweater I wore, its neckline slipping suggestively off one side. Beneath it, I had on nothing but a pair of boy shorts, snug and black, hugging the fullness of my hips. The sweater, a deep crimson that contrasted starkly with the paleness of my skin, hung loosely over my body, brushing the tops of my thighs with every movement.

Asher was sprawled on the couch, his eyes half-lidded, staring at the flames with the same intensity as me. His dark hair was tousled, falling into his eyes, the sharp angles of his jaw softened by the golden light. He was only a year older than me, but he carried a confidence that made him seem older, and more assured. His broad shoulders filled out the plain white t-shirt he wore, the fabric stretched taut across his chest, hinting at the strength underneath. He had rolled up the sleeves, revealing muscular forearms, the veins pronounced and leading down to strong hands that rested casually on his stomach.

“Are we really stuck here all weekend?” I asked, my voice soft, almost a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile atmosphere between us.

Asher looked up at me, his blue eyes locking onto mine, a small smile playing on his lips. “Looks that way, D.”

I moved closer to the fire, feeling the warmth seep into my skin. The heat made me drowsy, and I found myself sinking down onto the rug in front of the fireplace, stretching out my legs, my toes grazing the edge of the hearth. I could feel Asher’s gaze on me, lingering on the curve of my thighs, the way my sweater draped over my body.

“It’s kind of nice, though,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “being away from everything.”

I nodded, unable to disagree. There was something intimate about the isolation, the way the world outside had vanished, leaving only the two of us in this small, cosy space. The storm had taken away all the noise, all the distractions, and it was just us—our breathing, the crackle of the fire, the distant roar of the wind.

“I guess we’ll just have to find a way to entertain ourselves,” I said, a teasing lilt in my voice.

Asher raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Oh? And what do you suggest?”

I shrugged, feigning innocence, but there was a spark in my eyes, a challenge. “I don’t know… Maybe we could play a game?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through the room. “What kind of game, Dahlia?”

The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine like he was tasting it, savouring it. I leaned back on my elbows, arching my back slightly, knowing exactly how it made my body look—how it made the sweater ride up just enough to reveal the curve of my lower back, the edge of my boy shorts.

“I don’t know,” I said again, my tone playful, “something fun… something that’ll keep us warm.”

His gaze darkened, his eyes trailing over me with a hunger that was barely concealed. He shifted on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “How about truth or dare?” he suggested, his voice a little rougher now.

I tilted my head, considering it. “Okay,” I agreed, sitting up straight, my legs tucked under me. “You go first.”

Asher didn’t hesitate. “Truth or dare, D?”

I smirked, feeling a rush of excitement at the game, the way it was already pushing the boundaries of what was safe, and what was normal between siblings. “Dare.”

His smile turned wicked, and I knew he was going to test me. “I dare you to take off that sweater.”

My breath caught in my throat, the air thick with anticipation. The dare was simple, but it carried a weight that neither of us could ignore. Slowly, deliberately, I reached for the hem of my sweater, pulling it up over my head in one smooth motion. The air was cool against my skin, my nipples hardening instantly beneath the thin fabric of my bra, which was lacy, black, and barely there. I tossed the sweater aside, letting it land carelessly on the floor.

Asher’s eyes were on me, his expression unreadable, but there was no mistaking the way his gaze lingered on my chest, on the swell of my breasts. I could feel the heat between us growing, the tension pulling us closer, even though neither of us moved.

“Your turn,” I said, my voice a little breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he said, without hesitation, his voice steady, but there was a glint in his eyes that told me he was daring me to push him, to see how far we could go.

I bit my lip, thinking quickly. “I dare you to… kiss me.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and charged. I saw the surprise in his eyes, the way his body tensed, but there was no backing out now. The rules of the game were clear, and we were both too stubborn to turn back.

Asher stood, moving with the fluid grace of a predator, and in an instant, he was in front of me, towering over where I sat on the rug. He knelt down, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips. For a moment, we just looked at each other, the space between us electric, buzzing with everything we hadn’t said, everything we had only felt.

Then he kissed me.

It was soft at first, almost tentative like he was testing the waters, but when I responded—when I kissed him back—everything changed. The kiss deepened, his lips firm and demanding against mine, his hands sliding up to cradle my face, pulling me closer as if he couldn’t get enough. I melted into him, my hands tangling in his hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingers, holding on like he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard, our faces inches apart, our foreheads touching. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and I knew mine must look the same.

“That was…” he began, but he didn’t finish, because we both knew what it was—dangerous, forbidden, and undeniably right.

“Another round?” I suggested, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pulled me into his lap, his hands gripping my hips, and I could feel the hardness of him against me, the evidence of how much he wanted this—wanted me. I gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through me, and I pressed closer, rolling my hips just enough to draw a low groan from him.

“Truth or dare?” he asked, his voice rough, his lips brushing against my ear, making me shiver.

“Truth,” I said, wanting to know what he would ask, what he wanted to know.

“Do you want this?” he whispered, his breath hot against my neck, his hands tightening on my waist.

“Yes,” I breathed, the word slipping out before I could even think about it. “Yes, I do.”

That was all he needed. He shifted us, laying me down on the rug, the warmth of the fire against my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his body as he covered mine, his weight pressing me into the soft fabric beneath us. I arched up into him, desperate for more, my hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the muscles shifting under my touch.

Asher kissed me again, harder this time, his mouth demanding, and I gave in completely, letting him take control, letting him lead us wherever this was going. His hands were everywhere, sliding down my sides, teasing the edge of my shorts, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my thighs, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

I was lost in him, in the way he made me feel—like I was the only thing that mattered like he would do anything to make me his. And I wanted it, wanted him in a way that I had never wanted anything before.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against my lips, his voice tight with restraint, but I could hear the need in it, the way he was holding himself back, waiting for my permission, my word to take this further.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, my hands sliding down his back, pulling him closer, my legs wrapping around his waist, locking him to me. “Please, Asher… don’t stop.”

That was all it took. The last of his control snapped, and he was on me, his hands tugging at the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down my legs, hurrying them off me while I ripped open his fly, wanting him inside of me and quickly.

“Are you sure you want this, you are my sister after all,” he said stroking his cock.

“Shut up, Asher,” I growled, my hands closing around his cock, feeling the hardness of it, the heat. “I don’t care. I want you, now.”

He didn’t argue anymore. Instead, he shifted, moving between my legs, and positioning himself at my entrance. I could feel him there, the tip of his cock pressed against me, and I was wet, soaking, ready for him.

“Look at me, Dahlia,” he demanded, his voice hoarse, his eyes intense.

I did as he asked, looking up at him, our gazes locked. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, of exposure, and it was too much, too intense—but it was also right.

He thrust into me, hard, filling me completely, making me gasp at the suddenness, the overwhelming sensation of him inside me. He didn’t stop, he kept going, driving into me, again and again, hard and fast, each stroke sending a shockwave of pleasure through me. I could feel him, deep inside me, the fullness of him, the way he was stretching me, making me feel things I had never felt before.

He was relentless, his pace increasing, and I could feel myself unravelling, coming apart under him. The pleasure was too much, too intense, and I couldn’t hold on anymore.

“I’m… I’m gonna cum, Asher, Mmmmm my pussy,” I moaned, my voice almost a scream, my hips bucking against him.

“Cum for me, Dahlia, you can cum but am going to keep fucking you,” he demanded, his voice low, the words barely audible as he drove into me harder, faster.