Note the opening might not make sense if you not read The forest of desire part 5 ending.

Rachel watched a video, the man's face not in view as the blonde under him arched with each thrust on the wooden fishing dock. Every night since in her sleep she self see her under him as in real time her fingers work her pussy.

She decided that at the end of the week, once her holiday started, she’d jump on a plane and visit her brother Michael. The decision tasted like metal in her mouth, like the static hum before a storm. Her phone buzzed with the airline confirmation, the screen casting a blue glow over the damp sheets tangled around her thighs.

At 7:03 PM, she rocked up to the hotel lobby her suitcase wheels catching on the frayed edge of the Persian rug and there he was, her dad’s old friend Zane, leaning against the reception desk with a keycard pinched between his fingers. Room 409. His thumb traced the embossed numbers absently, the motion slow, deliberate, like he’d been waiting longer than he’d admit. “You’re late, ” he said, but the corner of his mouth twitched. The lie hung between them, sweet and sticky. She hadn’t told him her flight time.

That night, the dream came again wet fingers between her thighs, the phantom weight of a man pressing her into damp sheets, his breath hot against her neck. Rachel arched into the sensation, her hips lifting off the mattress, only to wake with a gasp, her own hand wedged between her legs, fingers slick. She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling through her teeth. *Just stress from work.* Two weeks off would fix it that’s what she’d told herself when she booked the trip. But the dreams had followed her here.

The next day at noon, the taxi’s AC wheezed like a dying animal as Rachel peeled her bare thighs off the vinyl seat. She tossed a crumpled twenty at the driver and stepped onto the curb, the midday sun baking the asphalt into a shimmering mirage. Her brother’s house loomed at the end of the driveway, it was her dd old truck that caught her eye first, the hood was propped open, Brain torso swallowed by the engine bay, the faded shirt tied around his waist flapping in the breeze. She walked round the side with a laugh still driving this old piece of junk huh?"

Brian stood up arms open, grease smeared across his bare chest like war paint, his grin wide and unrepentant. "C'mere, kid, " he laughed, but Rachel danced back with a snort, palms raised her nose wrinkling at the scent of motor oil and sweat clinging to him like a second skin. "Not until you shower, grease ball, " she teased, stepping around the toolbox he'd left sprawled open near the truck's tire..

She gestured toward the house "Michael inside?" He shut the hood with a metallic clunk, walking to the open driver's side door. "Back door's open, " Brian called over his shoulder, his voice rough-edged with laughter as he turned the ignition. The truck coughed once, twice then roared to life with a shuddering growl that vibrated through the soles of Rachel's sandals. "Old girl's still got some life in her, " he smirked, patting the dashboard like it was a lover's thigh.

Rachel slipped through the side gate into the garden, where the scent of rosemary and sun-warmed earth clung to the air. Michael stood with his back to her, pinning a bedsheet to the clothesline with wooden pegs, his shoulders flexing beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. She crept forward trying to make as little noise as possible then wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades with a muffled laugh. "Surprise little bro, " she murmured, grinning when he jumped a mile, nearly dropping the peg clutched in his fingers. "Jesus Christ!" He hissed, eyes wide. "One of these days you're gonna get elbowed in the face, " he muttered, shaking his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Rachel smirked, stepping back to flick his earlobe. "Maybe, " she conceded, "but then I just kick your ass, little bro."

She followed him inside, her sandals slapping against the tile floor as he tossed the laundry basket onto the couch. "So how long’s Dad gonna be here?" she asked, snagging a soda from the fridge and cracking it open. He been living here for over a month and a half her choking on the fizzy burn of cola when Michael shrugged, he points to the house next door he moving in there beginning of the week after it a bit crowded here." The can slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a hollow clatter.

That night at dinner spaghetti overcooked, garlic bread burnt at the edges Brian leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "You should stay the second week, " he said, twirling his fork in the noodles. "Zane’ll pay you back for the hotel room second week.". Rachel's fingers tightened around her wineglass, the condensation slick against her palm. "Okay, " she says, "but let him keep the money. He gave me a massive discount on it." The lie tasted like cheap lipstick too sweet, too obvious.

That first night at the hotel, Rachel woke gasping at 3:17 AM with her thighs glued together by sweat and slickness, the dream still clinging like cobwebs this time, she'd seen the curve of his jawline as he'd pinned her wrists above her head. She rolled onto her side, pressing her overheated cheek into the pillow that smelled faintly of bleach and synthetic lavender, and tried to ignore the insistent pulse between her legs. By dawn, she'd showered twice, scrubbing at the phantom fingerprints she swore lingered on her hips.

The next afternoon, she helped Brian sand down the front doorframe of the neighboring house, her arms burning with the effort while he crouched beside her shirtless, his knuckles brushing hers each time they reached for the sandpaper. She focused on the rasp of wood grain under her fingertips, not the way his sweat dripped onto the porch steps or how his low chuckle vibrated through her when she cursed a splinter. That night, the dream man had lips rough against her collarbone and when she came awake with a muffled cry, her fingers were already buried inside herself, moving frantically as if trying to outrun the memory.

By Thursday, she could make out his eyebrows, arching slightly when he smirked down at her in the dream but the rest remained blurred, like a photograph left too long in the rain. Each morning, Rachel woke with her thighs clenched, her sleep shirt damp with sweat, and the phantom drag of teeth against her neck still burning. She'd roll out of bed, scrub her skin raw under the shower, then spend the day elbow-deep in paint swatches with Michael arguing over eggshell versus satin while Brian sanded the front porch bare-chested, sawdust clinging to the sweat on his lower back.

By the Sunday she could see a face but with no eyes. She spent the day painting the last two bedrooms, her arms aching with each brushstroke. That night, the dream didn't come the first time since she'd arrived.

On Monday she packed her suitcase, the zipper catching on silk underwear still damp from the night before. She got into her dad's truck Brian's fingers lingering on the gearshift just a second too long and when they got to his house, unpacking took twice as long as it should have.

The dream returned as she fingered herself in her sleep. Brian stood outside her door watching, his knuckles white against the doorframe as her moans of *Daddy* slipped between clenched teeth her unconscious mind stitching together what her conscious self couldn't. The floorboard creaked under his shifting weight and she arched violently, one hand fisting the sheets while the other worked faster between her thighs, her hips rolling into the touch with desperate, jerky motions.

Brian exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, but his cock strained against his jeans the denim stretched taut over his erection, the zipper biting into flesh. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be listening to the wet sounds of her fingers moving inside herself, shouldn’t be imagining the way her breath hitched when she rubbed circles over her clit just right. But he stayed, transfixed, until her back bowed off the mattress and she came with a stifled cry, her thighs trembling.

The second night, he came back same time, same place but this time, he left the door cracked. Just enough to see the dim outline of her body twisting beneath the sheets, one hand tugging at her nipple while the other disappeared between her legs. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps *Daddy* and his gut tightened, his cock throbbing in time with the rhythmic slick sounds of her fingers moving inside herself, as he jerked himself off silently in the hallway, his cum splattering the hardwood floor.

By the third night, he entered taking her panties off careful not to wake her, pressing the damp lace against his cock, the fabric clinging to his swollen flesh as her fingers kept moving in her sleep fast, impatient circles that made her hips jerk against the mattress. Brian's breath hitched, watching her chest rising and falling beneath the sheer bra barely containing her bust, brunette hair sticking to her face in sweat-darkened strands.

Her mouth dropped open with a silent gasp as she arched off the bed, thighs trembling before she squirted the wet heat soaking the sheets beneath her, her body shuddering violently as the orgasm ripped through her. Brian groaned, pressing her damp panties harder against his cock as he came in thick, spurting pulses, the fabric growing slick with his release. Carefully, he peeled them from his throbbing length. After a moment spent catching his breath, he stepped closer to the bed, his fingers trembling slightly as he bunched the ruined lace in his fist. With painstaking care, he slid the damp fabric back up her thighs, adjusting the waistband over her hipbones the warmth of her skin seeping into his fingertips as he smoothed the material back into place.

By morning, Rachel woke sticky with sweat, her thighs glued together with a tacky residue that made her frown until she noticed the twisted waistband of her panties, the label at the front. She put her clothes on from the day before the same wrinkled blouse clinging to her shoulders, the same jeans stiff with dried sweat and grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the dresser.

She headed out of the room down the hall to the bathroom, the dream getting worse, she was so lost in her own mind that she did not hear the shower running before she opened the door. The steam hit her face first thick, chlorine-scented from the well water and through the fogged glass, she saw Brian’s silhouette and her conscious mind finally put the final piece together.

She dropped her clean clothes and stripped naked, opening the shower quietly, pressing her busty chest into his back as her hand reached round and gripped his semihard cock. His gasp echoed off the tile, his shoulders tensing beneath her touch but he didn’t pull away. His skin was slick under her palms, the heat of the water making her nipples pebble against his shoulder blades as she leaned into him. "Rachel " he started, voice rough, but she cut him off with a twist of her wrist, her thumb swiping over the leaking tip of his cock. "Shut up, " she whispered against his ear, her teeth grazing the lobe. "I *need* this."

She turned him around and backed him up to the wall before lowering to her knees, making sure to drag her big tits down him the wet glide of her nipples against his stomach, the shudder that wracked his body as she took him into her mouth without hesitation.

Brian's groan was ragged, as she worked him with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing no tentative licks, no shy exploration just pure, skilled suction that had him fully hard in no time, his cock jerking against the back of her throat as she hollowed her cheeks.

Her eyes locked on his face, watching the way his jaw clenched, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed curses. His grip tightened on the shower doorframe, knuckles whitening, while his other hand pressed flat against the tile wall behind him like he was trying not to slam her head forward, not to fuck her mouth raw.

She pulled back, mouth open, breath hot on his cock "Cum for me, Daddy, " she whispered against the slick head, tongue flicking the slit just as his hips jerked forward, his orgasm hitting him like a live wire. His release spurted thick and hot against her tongue, the salt-bitter taste flooding her mouth as she swallowed greedily.

The rest of the day, Brian acted like nothing had happened whistling while fixing the porch steps, chatting with Michael about paint samples, his hands steady as he sanded down the doorframe. But Rachel's fingers trembled around her coffee mug whenever he passed, her thighs pressing together under the table when his knee brushed hers. She burned her tongue on the first sip, the sting sharp and grounding.

That night, Rachel watched the downloaded video but it wasn't the same. The angle had changed. Before, the camera had been positioned so you could not see the the man face clear, capturing only the flex of his shoulders as he thrust into the blonde beneath him on the dock. Now, the shot was from the front his whole face visible, sweat dripping off his chin, his eyes dark with hunger. Rachel's breath caught. It was Brian.

Thursday morning, Rachel woke with her thighs pressed together, her panties soaked through. The dream had shifted no longer the dock, no longer faceless. It was the shower again, but this time, Brian's hands pinned her wrists against the tile while his mouth worked between her legs, his tongue circling her clit with slow, deliberate precision. She'd arched into it, her hips jerking as he added two fingers, curling them just right until she came with a gasp so sharp it startled her awake.

She avoided him all day. When he knocked on her bedroom door to ask if she wanted coffee, she pretended to be asleep. At breakfast, she focused on stirring her oatmeal into gluey oblivion while Michael chattered about paint samples. But Brian noticed of course he did. His gaze lingered on the way her fingers tightened around her mug, how she flinched when his elbow brushed hers reaching for the sugar.

Friday morning, Rachel was halfway out the door when Brian's voice froze her mid-step low, edged with something that sent a shiver down her spine. "Shut that door and sit down, " he said from the couch, not looking up from the newspaper spread across his lap. "We need to talk." The tone half command, half warning was one she hadn't heard since she'd wrapped his old truck around the neighbor's mailbox at eighteen, whiskey still burning in her veins.

She sat and before he could even say another word, she broke down crying, her fingers knotting in the fabric of her shorts as the weight of the past two and a half weeks crashed over her. Not just the shower, not just the dreams. The tears were hot, angry, shameful streaking down her cheeks as she gasped for air between sobs.

She was still crying when she said it her words thick and fractured, like glass ground into wet sand. "It started with the video, " she gasped, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt, knuckles white. "The one where where you couldn't see his face. Just just her. Blonde. On the dock." Her breath hitched, jagged. "Every night since, it's been *me* there. My back against the wood. My legs around *him*." The confession hung between them, then her voice cracked "Then I saw you in the shower." Her fingers flexed against her thighs, damp with sweat. "My mind it just it put the final piece in place."

Brian got up abruptly, leaving her hunched over on the couch, her breath shuddering in the sudden silence. He didn't slam the door, but the click of it shutting behind him might as well have been a gunshot. Rachel stared at the empty space where he'd been, her pulse hammering in her throat *he's disgusted* until the door creaked open two minutes later and Brian strode back in, laptop balanced in one palm, the screen glowing with a paused video.

He scrolled down to the comments hundreds of them with shaking fingers. "*Same dream every night since watching*, " read the top one, "*but it's my cousin's face when he pins me against the dock*." The next comment was worse:"*Started with the video too. Except it's my mother under me." One of the latest comments caught her eye a frantic, barely coherent ramble: "I rode my son's hard cock and came for the first time in my life and the dreams stopped after.*"

Rachel grabbed the laptop and tried to delete the video but it was still there the *delete* button grayed out, unresponsive no matter how many times she mashed it. Her palms were slick against the keyboard, nails scraping plastic as she frantically clicked through menus, digging for the file location.

She slammed the laptop shut hard enough to make the hinges groan, then hurled it onto the couch where it bounced once. The screen flickered still glowing as she stormed upstairs. The bathroom door locked with a click that echoed too loud in her skull. Steam rose in thick curls as she cranked the shower to scalding, stripping off her clothes with jerky motions. The first blast of water hit like punishment searing her shoulders pink but she welcomed the burn, grinding her teeth until the temperature settled into something tolerable.

Her hands moved mechanically over her body soap slick between her breasts, fingertips digging into the tense cords of her neck until her fingers brushed lower. The shock of contact made her gasp, her thighs snapping together instinctively. She leaned back against the shower wall, the same tile she'd pressed him against, the porcelain cold through her damp hair. The memory flashed his cock heavy on her tongue, the way his hips had jerked when she'd hummed and her fingers circled faster, thumb pressing hard against her clit in rough, punishing strokes.

The orgasm hit like a sucker punch, her knees buckling as she slid down the wall, water sluicing over her parted lips. She sat there come on, mentally talking to herself fingers still twitching between her thighs. Monday. Catch your flight. And then worry about the dreams. The mantra did nothing to steady her pulse.

The rest of Friday passed with stiff politeness Rachel stacking dishes louder than necessary while Brian scraped varnish from the porch rails, his knuckles whitening around the sandpaper whenever their eyes accidentally met. Saturday morning, she woke to the sound of his truck engine rumbling to life, the crunch of gravel beneath tires as he left without a word. The house felt cavernous in his absence, the hum of the refrigerator too loud, the creak of floorboards under her bare feet like accusations. By evening, he returned with groceries, the paper bags rustling as he set them on the counter.

Sunday morning, Michael and Mick were in the basement, putting the stuff down there in something close to order tools sorted by size, paint cans labeled with masking tape, the occasional muffled curse floating up through the floorboards.

Rachel and Brian were upstairs finishing up the final touches on the guest room. Rachel stood on the stepladder, her arms straining as she tried to twist the stubborn light fixture into place. Sweat beaded along her spine beneath the thin fabric of her tank top, the morning heat pressing in through the open window. Brian steadied the ladder with one hand, his other resting lightly on her calf. She leaned forward just a fraction too far her fingers slipped and suddenly she was falling, the world tilting sideways. Brian caught her instinctively, his hands gripping her waist as momentum carried them both backward onto the made bed. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, her chest pressed flush against his, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against her bare thighs where her shorts had ridden up.

She didn't think. She just kissed him hard her tongue sliding against his before he could react. His startled grunt vibrated against her lips, his hands spasming at her waist before he froze completely, his breath hitching as her fingers goes under the waistband of his jeans and boxers fingers rubbing him, finding him already half-hard.

Brian broke the kiss with a rough gasp, his forehead pressing against hers as he tried to pull away. "We can't your brother and Mi" he choked out, but Rachel cut him off "Fuck them, " she hissed, grinding her palm harder against the rigid heat trapped in his jeans. His hips jerked involuntarily, a low groan escaping his clenched teeth. "If this dream carries on any longer, " she whispered against his mouth, "I'm going to go crazy."

His hands tightened on her waist not pushing her away, not pulling her closer just holding on like he was drowning. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound loud in the quiet room. Rachel nipped at his lower lip. "Please wait till they're gone, " he groaned, but she squeezed his so hard no you the reason I'm in this mess."

Brian swore under his breath, his fingers digging into her hips as she rolled off him, her knees hitting the floorboards with a thud. Before he could protest, she was between his legs, her teeth catching the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down with a sharp jerk that made his breath hitch. The button popped open next, her fingernails scraping against his stomach as she shoved the denim and boxers down and off his in one motion his cock, already thick and leaking against his stomach. "Rachel " he started, but her mouth was on him before he could finish, her tongue swirling around the head before taking him deep, her throat working around him with a practiced ease that made his thighs tense beneath her palms.

His moan was low and ragged, fingers twisting in the bedsheets as she pulled back slowly, her teeth dragging up the underside of his cock with just enough pressure to make his hips jerk off the mattress. "Jesus Christ, " he gasped, his voice cracking on the last syllable, his knuckles white against the floral-patterned comforter. She grinned her lips slick and did it again, this time lingering at the sensitive spot just beneath the head, her tongue soothing the sting before she took him deep once more.

Her fingers worked the waistband of her shorts and panties down her hips without breaking rhythm, the damp fabric catching at her thighs before she kicked them off with a sharp twist of her ankle. The air was cool against her bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat pooling between her legs as she rocked forward onto her knees, her nipples brushing against his bare thigh hard, aching points that sent sparks skittering down her spine.

She lifted herself off his cock with a wet *pop*, her lips glistening with spit and precum as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts panties tangled in the fabric and peeled them down in one fluid motion, kicking them aside with a practiced flick of her ankles. The air hit her bare skin like a shock, her thighs already damp with anticipation as she climbed onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. Brian’s breath hitched when she dragged herself up his body, until she was poised above his face, her slick heat hovering just inches from his lips. "Open, " her voice thick with want, and when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, she lowered herself onto his mouth with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips.

He lapped at her hungrily as her hands tangled in his hair **Yes Daddy** her thighs tightening around his head when his tongue circled her clit with rough, relentless precision. Her hips jerked forward instinctively**Oh God** as he devoured her like a man starved, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, kneading roughly. The bed groaned beneath them, the springs protesting as she rolled her hips against his mouth, riding his face with abandon.

His arms wrapped around her thighs and rolled her onto her left side suddenly her gasp cut off as his mouth found her clit again, teeth scraping just enough to make her hips jerk. Three fingers pressed into her all at once, stretching her obscenely as his tongue flicked against her in rapid, practiced circles. The angle was deeper now, his knuckles grinding against her inner walls with each thrust, the wet squelch of her arousal loud against the rhythmic creak of the bedsprings. She choked on a moan, her fingers twisting in his hair hard enough to hurt as her thighs trembled around his wrist.

He didn’t let up just curled his fingers harder, dragging against that spongy spot inside her while his tongue matched the pace, relentless. Her vision whited out for a second when she came, her back arching off the mattress as her cunt clenched around his fingers, slick gushing down his wrist. "Fuck *fuck* " she sobbed, hips stuttering, but he didn’t stop. His lips sealed around her clit and sucked hard, fingers pistoning faster until she was thrashing, her cries climbing higher, syllables slurring into "Daddy *Daddy* " as another orgasm ripped through her.

Her thighs clamped around his head, heels digging into his shoulders as she rode out the waves, her cunt pulsing around his fingers in wet, rhythmic spasms. He finally pulled back, lips glistening, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand but his other hand stayed buried inside her, fingers lazily stroking that spot that made her toes curl. "Good girl." The praise sent another shudder through her, her hips jerking weakly against his palm.

He withdrew his fingers slowly, relishing her whimper, then brought them to her lips her tongue darting out instinctively, licking them clean with a messy, eager hunger that made his cock twitch against the sheets.

Once she was done, both her hands lifted her tank top over her head in one fluid motion, the fabric catching for a heartbeat on her elbows before she tossed it aside. At the same time, he worked his shirt off too, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he yanked it free, the hem dragging over his forearms like a reluctant surrender. The air between them thickened with the scent of sweat and skin, the space shrinking to the heat radiating off their bodies.

His hand slid up her ribs, rough palms catching on the soft swell of her breast, fingers pressing into flesh with a hunger that made her arch into his touch. He positioned himself at her entrance, the blunt head of his cock catching on her folds, slick with her arousal and when he pushed forward just slightly, she gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets. "Be gentle, Daddy, " she breathed, thighs trembling as she spread wider. "Been a while since since I had anything bigger than a finger in there."

Brian exhaled sharply through his nose half laugh, half groan but obeyed, pressing in two inches at a time, pausing each time her breath hitched, letting her body adjust to the stretch until the full ten was inside her. The stretch burned god, it burned but beneath the sting was something deeper, a fullness that made her toes curl, her inner muscles fluttering around him like a vice. He didn't move, just held himself there, forehead pressed to hers, breath hot and ragged against her lips.

"Fuck your tight, " he growled, voice rough with restraint, hips twitching forward involuntarily before he caught himself. His hands slid under her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he tilted her pelvis up, angling himself deeper. He started to move slowly each drag of his cock against her walls deliberate, torturous until her breath hitched again, this time on a whimper. "You so big, Daddy, " she gasped, thighs tightening around his hips, nails raking down his shoulders.

After a while, he pulled out abruptly the sudden emptiness making her cry out before flipping her onto her hands and knees with a firm grip on her hips. With his hand in front of her tits, he pushed back into her pussy, moving a little bit faster, her bouncing tits hitting his hands with each thrust. The next time her tits hit his hands, he grabbed both of them roughly palming the soft flesh, fingers digging into the tender skin. She gasped, arching into his touch, as he squeezed tighter just shy of pain.

Rachel moaned loud, not caring who heard each time he pushed into her fully, he pinched her nipples hard, not releasing until he nearly pulled all the way out, then repeating. The sharp sting radiated through her chest in waves, syncing perfectly with the deep drag of his cock inside her. The dual sensations left her dizzy every thrust sending sparks up her spine, every cruel twist of his fingers making her clench around him tighter.

Suddenly two sets of hands on each side of her shoulders pushed her flat and held her there. Michael's voice came loud and close to her ear "Shh, keep it down, the neighbours will hear, " then Mick's breath hotter against her other ear "Dad, *we* are the neighbours."

She screamed "Dad stop" as he started to ram it into her hard over and over again, her thighs slapping against his hips with wet, rhythmic smacks that drowned out the creak of the bedsprings. The plea came out breathless. Please Daddy, stop it *hurts* " but Brian just chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening around her hips as he pulled her back onto his cock with a brutal snap of his hips. "I know it does, baby, " he growled against the nape of her neck, teeth grazing her damp skin. "But soon you'll be begging’ for it." And fuck, he was right because with every deep thrust, the pain blurred into something sharper, hotter, until her gasps twisted into moans.

Brian's thrusts grew rougher, his cock stretching her impossibly wider as he drove into her with a bruising pace that left her thighs trembling. She felt there hands leave her back and she lifted up straight, meeting his mouth in a messy, panting kiss as they came together. His groan vibrated against her lips, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside her, his cum flooding her in hot, pulsing waves that made her toes curl. Rachel clenched around him, her own climax crashing over her in shuddering waves as she moaned "Daddy" into his mouth, the word muffled but unmistakable.

Her dad had hardly pulled out before Michael flipped her onto her back, his calloused hands gripping her waist with possessive roughness. The sudden change in position left her gasping the cool air hitting her sweat-slicked skin, the mattress pressing into her shoulder blades as he settled between her thighs. Michael ’s cock nudged against her pussy, still swollen and oversensitive from Brian’s pounding, and she instinctively clenched around nothing, her body thrumming with aftershocks. But then without warning the blunt head slid lower, catching against the tight ring of muscle below, and Rachel’s breath hitched, her fingers scrabbling at the sheets. "Wait " she gasped, panic sharp in her throat, "I’ve never " but Michael pressed forward anyway, the thick intrusion burning as he pushed past the resistance with a single, relentless thrust.

Her ass burned as he fucked her like he hated her, his hips slamming against her with punishing force. His hands gripped her tits roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh until she gasped, the pain sharp and bright against the dull ache of her stretched hole. She could feel every inch of him splitting her open, the stretch bordering on unbearable, her body struggling to accommodate him. The bedframe rattled against the wall with each thrust, the sound drowning out her choked whimpers as she clawed at the sheets, her knuckles whitening. Michael leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "You know what it was like growing up with you always wearing clothes that cling to your ass and tits, " he growled, his voice rough with lust. "you know I wanked off to you every night, don't you?"

She turned her head to his ear, her voice ragged. "That why you never go to the beach with us on holiday?" she panted between thrusts, her body rocking violently with each snap of his hips. "Afraid Dad would see you pitching a tent watching me in my bikini?" The laugh that punched out of Mick still kneeling beside them was sharp, breathless. Brian's chuckle was darker, his palm cracking against his leg in a stinging slap. " Michael growled low in his throat, hips stuttering as he drove into her harder, kissing her sloppily, teeth clashing against hers in a desperate attempt to shut her up.

She could feel the twitch in his cock against her inner walls, the sudden jerk of his hips losing rhythm as she slid her hands down his back over sweat-slick skin, down to his ass. He groaned into her mouth, hot and wet, when she dug her nails in but it was nothing compared to the ragged shout that tore from his throat when her middle finger pressed against his tight rim, circling once before pushing in with a cruel twist of her wrist. His entire body locked up, thighs trembling against hers, cock pulsing violently inside her as he came, his release flooding her in hot, erratic bursts that made her toes curl. "Oh God Rachel!" Michael gasped, voice cracking, hips jerking erratically against her finger buried knuckle-deep. She grinned, breathless, watching the way his mouth hung slack. It wasn't nice just having something shoved up there, was it little brother? Taking your big sister anal virginity, fucking me so hard each word forced more cum out of him she could feel it, the way his cock twitched weakly inside her at the filthy taunt, another weak spurt dribbling out to mingle with the mess between her thighs.

As he pulled out, Mick saddled her chest without hesitation, pushing her tits together around his cock with rough hands that left fingerprints blooming on her flushed skin. The angle was awkward her nipples pressed tight against his shaft, the heat of his skin searing against hers but Mick didn't seem to care, just rutted between them with sharp, shallow thrusts that made her gasp. The friction was deliciously rough, the drag of his cock against her sensitive flesh sending sparks skittering down her spine. "Fuck" he choked out, his fingers tightening almost painfully around her breasts, his hips stuttering. His cockhead caught on her collarbone, smearing precum in sticky streaks as he shuddered, his breath coming in ragged pants against her neck.

Rachel arched into it, glad for the reprieve her pussy throbbed, oversensitive and swollen, her ass still clenching around phantom fullness. Mick's cock slid between her tits with the slick ease of sweat and precum, the flushed head catching against her collarbone with every thrust. She wondered, dazed, if it was family genetics or just fucking luck?

Aunt Rachel had been her only warning as he moved from her tits to her open mouth, cockhead pressing against her lips just as he came hot ropes hitting the back of her throat before she could react. He pulled out with a wet pop, jerking himself off roughly until another spurt painted her tongue, salty and thick. The third load came and she swallowed without breaking eye contact, her throat working around the bitter tang as Mick groaned above her, fingers tightening in her hair. "Fuck, " he gasped, hips twitching as she licked her lips clean.

After flying home on the Monday, she'd walked into her boss's office the next day, slapped her resignation letter on his desk, and told him to go fuck himself, enjoying the look on his face before walking out, him ranting how she'd never get a job in this business again.

She turned, smirked on her face. "You're wrong there got a job in this business and in a better position, " she said, leaning against the doorframe, watching the vein in his forehead throb. "And I not needed to fuck a limp dick like you to get it." The way his mouth worked soundlessly almost made the whole mess worth it.

She spent the next two days packing her things up and shipping them. By Thursday she took her flight and moved in with her dad. By Sunday, the last box had been unpacked, the last hanger slid into place in the walk-in closet. Rachel stood by the bed of her new bedroom running her fingers over the freshly sheets. The portable AC hummed efficiently in the corner, its cool breath ghosting over her bare thighs as she knelt on the mattress, testing its bounce. Come Monday, she started her job at the office her brother worked. his word with his boss giving her a position without an interview. Her first day, her boss greeted her in a black suit with a green shirt, the collar slightly undone. "Does this green shirt look nice with a black suit?" he asked, leaning against the doorway of her new office. She turned round and said "no it looks shit, " he laughed, shaking his head. "Your brother told me you give it to me straight, " he admitted, fingers tugging at the offending fabric. "If you said this looked good, I would have fired you here on the spot. I don't need someone that's just going to kiss my ass."

That night, as she lay in bed reading a book, she was happy for the first time in a long time and as a bonus, the dreams had stopped too.