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Newly edited edition!Since moving to Chicago six years ago to escape the painful memories of her troubled past, Megan has everything she could want; beauty, success, and most importantly, after years of struggle: her sobriety.Lately, however, things have not been going so well for Megan. In addition to being worn down from months of painting for an upcoming exhibit, Megan’s lover of the past year, Laura, has told her that she is leaving her.Exhausted and heartbroken, Megan finds herself mired in one of the melancholy depressions that have plagued her since her youth. Once in that frame of mind, Megan knows a trip back to her hometown is in order, as there is only one person who can help her through it.Mark has also done quite well for himself over the years. Dubbed by the press as the “bad Boy” attorney for his wild past and legendary nightlife, Mark has it all: looks, money, power, and of course women. From college coeds to CEOs, no woman can resist his looks and dark charisma.When Megan calls and tells him of her latest heartache, and that she needs to see him, he knows the time has come to fulfill his deepest wish.~~~~~Broken is a series of books chronicling the twenty year relationship of two people who are truly everything to each other. When they are together, they feel complete. When they are apart, they feel...broken.
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Book One: Siblings with Benefits
Published by L.L. Craft Publications
Copyright © 2013 by Laura Lovecraft
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As I sat in the lobby of TF Green airport, sipping coffee, I tried to keep myself from sinking into the depression I’d been mired in for the last couple of weeks. I was back home in Rhode Island, where I had spent thirty three of my thirty eight years, and my younger brother Mark, whom I hadn't seen in six months, was on his way to pick me up. Problem was it was hard to be upbeat when you were utterly exhausted. It wasn't just my two hour nonstop from Chicago turning into an hour delay at O’Hare and a three hour layover in Philly; it was due mostly to the latest bout of insomnia I'd been suffering from for two weeks.
Since these spells, I've suffered from since the tender age of ten, are usually brought on by stress, I should have seen this one coming. For two months I'd been painting 12-15 hours a day to get ready for an exhibition where I was the featured artist and in the interim, had suffered the end of yet another failed relationship. This had been a recurring theme over the last five years. I’d never gotten into anything serious during my twenties and early thirties, which were also the years I had spent battling drug and alcohol addiction. Since then I had been attempting to find that elusive special someone with disastrous results.
The most recent special someone was Laura, a thirty year old photographer, whom I had met at one of my exhibits last year. I’d been bi-sexual since my late teens and although I’d spent most of the last few years interested more in men, Laura had captivated me from the start. We had been living together for the last six months, but eventually Laura, like others before her, had complained I was cold and distant. Having heard that same line so many times before I guess I can't deny it, but considering all the things I've been through, I do the best I can.
Trying to get my mind off of those things, I got up and tossing my coffee cup into a trash basket, decided to take a walk. I hadn't texted Mark to come get me until I landed so I had a few minutes and couldn’t sit still. The thing about insomnia is, the more tired you get, the more wired you get. As I wandered around the lobby, I enjoyed the looks I was getting from the few people still wandering around at ten pm on a Friday night.
Normally my appearance was not all that eye catching. I was a tall, slim, brunette who although attractive was not the type to generally get a lot of undue attention. My most notable feature being a pair crystal blue eyes, which many people thought were contacts. Today, however, I’d had a private showing at The Black Flame, a notorious Goth club where Black Masses are held in secret every Friday night, well secret to all but those who attend. The showing ran late and unaware my flight had been delayed, I raced to the airport without taking the time to change, so I was quite a sight, especially for boring old little Rhody.
I had straightened my long, normally curly, jet black hair so that it hung more than halfway down to my waist. That along with my heavy, black eye makeup, was a sharp contrast to my fair, no let's be honest, ghostly white complexion. My right arm from the tip of my shoulder down to my elbow was covered by a huge green and black tattoo of the Greek gorgon Medusa, the coils of her serpentine body wrapping around the inside of my arm, I was wearing a tight, sleeveless, black top that was held together by a row of metal hooks in the front, and although my skirt was ankle length, the slit up the side ran almost all the way up to my hip, a pair of knee high black boots with three inch heels completed the ensemble. I certainly didn't look like your typical woman pushing forty coming to see her brother.
Not that I was typical in any way, nor was my brother Mark. The two of us had not exactly had an easy path to where we are now. As I finished my little tour I sat down and caught my mind drifting towards the past. Whenever I allow this to happen I am reminded of a quote from Milton's Paradise Lost: "Long is the way and hard, that out of hell, leads up to light."
Mark and I had been separated at a very young age when our mother had to give us up, and, through a twist of fate, were reunited in a foster home when we were older. I was eighteen at the time and had been adopted by Doug and Denise Hanson, whom I have since been happy to call mom and dad. Upon getting news from a social worker that my younger brother had been located, Mom and Dad immediately helped to get him placed with us; despite the fact he was almost sixteen and was considered a problem child.
While we had been apart neither of us had gone unscathed. I had been sexually molested for almost two years before being placed with mom and dad at the age of eleven. I was told later on that, because of the repeated, forced sexual intercourse, I could never have children and, even now, over twenty five years later, I am still plagued by brutal nightmares, which don't help the insomnia any.
Mark had bounced around for a bit and ended up in a home where he was beaten so badly his skull had been cracked, putting him in the hospital, which is what led to us finding him two years later in a group home. Mark also had his share of problems; it was months before he would speak to anyone but me and my parents on a regular basis. He also suffered from severe night terrors, and to this day cannot sleep in total darkness.
However, both Mark and I have done quite well for ourselves. After finally overcoming my addiction to drugs and booze at the age of thirty two, I have made quite a name for myself as an artist in the underground Goth scene. At my last exhibit I sold three paintings for five thousand dollars apiece, and at the showing today, I received a deposit from some rich poser who was going to pay me another ten grand for a Megan Decosta original. Because my parents are religious and my paintings could put Bosch to shame, I use my birth mothers name as my professional alias.
Mark has also done quite well for himself. Despite spending his early twenties drinking like a fish and fucking and fighting, like an animal, Mark graduated Summa cum Laud from Suffolk University. Mark was currently a senior partner with one of the top law firms in New England, where he has become one of the top prosecutors in the private sector, having to date never lost a conviction. In addition Mark has obtained some local notoriety. Dubbed by the press "The Bad Boy" attorney as much for his wild past as his legendary nightlife. Mark has it all, looks, money, connections and of course women, his pick of them. My brother has a mantra "Every woman wants me every man wants to be me." Sometimes when I'm around him it's hard to argue it's not true.
But that’s what the world sees. On the surface we are as good as it gets, underneath; however, the two of us are more than a little broken. Both Mark and I, like a lot of abused children, live with a constant fear of rejection and a feeling of emptiness that can never be filled, although we've tried. I spent years trying to drown it in drugs and alcohol, now that the addiction is in check; I’m trying to fill it by working my ass off and spending brief periods of time pretending to be happy with someone who cannot possibly understand me.
For my brother its pure excess, Mark works out two hours a day, is an accomplished martial artist and works six days a week. That’s in addition to a sex life that consists of fucking a series of twenty year olds he refers to as pets. A couple of years ago Mark put it best when he said he was like an Easter egg someone had saved for too long. Sure it was pretty on the outside, but if it cracked you wouldn't want to be around to see what was inside.
Speaking of the devil, or as he always says, "Just one of his servants." I saw Mark come around the corner into the lobby. Watching him, I couldn't help but smile and enjoy the show. Extremely attractive people have an air of chaos about them, Eyes widen, jaws drop, and people who are caught staring receive dirty looks from their spouses. My brother was one of those people. As he sauntered through the lobby every woman, regardless of age, turned to look as he walked past and the best part of it was that, in just faded jeans and a tank top, not one of them knew he was a six figure a year attorney. Mark saw me and as he came over, I stood to greet him.
"Well hello my beautiful little brother," I said, reaching out to embrace him. I meant to just give a quick hug, but found myself squeezing him tight and holding on, realizing just how much I had missed him, and how badly I needed him right now.
"Hey big sis." Mark said softly in my ear and a sense of relief flooded through me. I knew everything would be okay now. Ever since we were reunited, no matter how bad things got or how many people I alienated, Mark was the one constant; he was everything to me, my brother, my best friend and the one person who had never given up on me. I let him go and stood back to look at him.
"Damn I'm glad to see you." I told him and smiled.
Despite my dark persona and appearance, I have been told I have an infectious smile, blessed with the type of full lips most women get injections for, my smile is actually a bit lopsided, but is genuine and always touches my eyes. It was the type of smile that always caused people to smile back. Which is exactly what Mark did, flashing me the killer smile that had spread more legs than most gynecologists.
"Same here Meg, it's been awhile."
As he spoke, using the name that only he could get away with, I looked Mark over, thinking he really was beautiful. Mark and I shared the same thick black hair and high cheek bones, but where I was fair with blue eyes, he was a bit darker and his eyes were a gorgeous shade of golden brown with flecks of green. Overall, his features were a bit on the delicate side and he had been called "Pretty Boy" on more than one occasion. The beauty certainly didn’t stop at his face. Mark was slightly taller than I, and was a hundred and eighty pounds of rock solid muscle, his shoulders were wide and his waist narrow, he was not muscle bound, but there was not a damn thing on him that was not exactly where it should be, including a set of abs that would make a twenty year old jealous.
Mark, in a sleeveless shirt caught a bit of attention. Both of his arms, shoulder to elbow, were covered in enormous tattoos, on the right was Pan the Celtic devil; horns, hooves and glaring red eyes, on the left was an incredibly detailed image of the Pale rider of revelations fame. Both of these tattoos were custom pieces based on paintings I had done in my teens. With his build, the tats and his five o clock shadow Mark was flaunting the "Bad Boy" look and carried it damn well. As I looked at him his smile faded a bit.
"You look tired sis."
"I am little brother, I am."
"Just the flight or..." He trailed off.
"I'm having a bad spell Mark, a really bad spell." He nodded and reaching down grabbed my suitcase.
"Well then I'm glad you came up sis. You know that's what I'm here for." I smiled at him and kissed his scruffy cheek.
"That's right Mark; you always know exactly what I need."
We walked back through the lobby, getting looks from both sexes now. I enjoyed the show as did Mark, neither of us would ever deny being narcissistic. I stood out front with my suitcase while Mark went to get the car. It was a humid August night; the kind when you could taste the air and I hoped to hell Mark had air conditioning in that old car he drove. While standing there, I watched a young mother playing with her baby, and felt that familiar pang of heartache. This was a direct result of my mood, as I'm not sure I would have ever wanted children, but it would have been nice to have the choice.
That train of thought was mercifully cut off when I heard the deep growl of Mark's restored, grey 1972 Firebird. Mark jumped out, tossed my suitcase in the trunk held the door open for me, leaving the airport, Mark got onto 95 north and immediately accelerated to a ridiculous speed. I leaned back in the seat and watched out the window as the houses and buildings blurred by.
"Are you hungry Meg?"
"Nah, I ate on the plane."
"You want to go...."
"Just your place," I told him "I'm not feeling up for anything, okay?"
"Okay." He answered as we weaved in and out of the lanes. "The folks know you're here?"
"No, I'll surprise them tomorrow." Truth was, I didn't want to get mom going and she could always read my voice. I figured a good night's sleep at Mark's and I would be in a better frame for my parents.
"Laura?" He asked, glancing over at me. I shook my head.
"Nope, same old story there." He nodded and turned his eyes back to the road.
We drove in silence. To this day Mark still didn't talk a hell of a lot unless he was either drunk or trying to pick someone up, so he was more than happy to leave me in my thoughts which at the moment weren't the happiest. Looking out the window I realized why I had decided to leave Rhode Island in the first place. Everywhere I looked were reminders of those dark days of addiction.
Over there was the house I had lived in for three months trading sex for a room to sleep in and an occasional fix. Oh, and there was the condo where my one time fiancé Tommy had to call the ambulance when he had found me passed out, needle still in my arm. Home sweet home, I thought bitterly.
Fortunately it was only a fifteen minute ride to my brother's place. Mark lived in the Promenade, an old mill complex that had been converted to luxury condos several years ago. Mark pulled into the garage and parked next to the black Lexus he referred to as his work car and would be mine to use for as long as I stayed. We took the elevator to the top floor and as we walked down the corridor towards Mark's corner apartment, I got a kick out an older couple that walked by. After giving us a dirty look I heard the woman comment;
"There goes another one." And her husband's reply;
"At least this one's over twenty one."
Marks apartment was gorgeous, twelve foot ceilings and a huge window overlooking the Providence River. The apartment was beautifully furnished but had a very sterile feeling to it. Mark had no clue about furniture, or style for that matter, so he had a friend pick everything out. The entire place screamed urban professional which was unlike my brother, but then again the apartment was very much like that pretty Easter egg Mark had referred to.
"You want anything?" Mark called out as he went into the kitchen.
"No. I'm all set for now." I told him as I walked over to the door of the Master bedroom. Mark had carved two Celtic runes into the oak finish. One the symbol for pleasure; the other for pain. I opened the door and, walking in, thought that here, indeed, was the inside of that egg.
Depending on your beliefs, Mark's bedroom was either breathtaking or terrifying. The room was a work of art, a gothic paradise and a testimony to a lifetime of occult influences and Sadomasochistic sex. The room was dominated by a massive four poster bed made of pure ebony. Each column from floor to ceiling was carved with ancient symbols and in each of those four columns was a concealed door that could be opened by a master switch, exposing chains complete with manacles. Topping it off was a deep red enclosure of silk, currently drawn all the way back. The bed had originally come from France and had once belonged to a warlock in New Orleans, who had been burned at the stake.
Next to each side of the bed was a matching ebony nightstand each supporting candelabra containing five black candles which were currently lit. This set had come from a castle in Ireland and had been given to Mark by a witch of some repute. Upon closer inspection, the flames proved to be small glass light bulbs. Afraid of a fire Mark had the candelabras wired for electricity. The effect was made even more realistic by the fact they were set to flicker. On the wall over each of these was a painting by none other than Megan Decosta herself. Not the successful one of today, but the struggling one of twenty years ago, who at the time was convinced she could only paint when wasted.
The room had another of those amazing eight foot windows, but this one had been covered with a black tapestry depicting several planes of Dante's vision of hell. On the left and right wall directly opposite each other were framed portraits of Anton Levay and Aleister Crowley. The best feature of the bedroom, however, was the mirrors. The entire five foot headboard was covered with one which directly reflected the equally large one over the bureau behind me.
As I stepped directly up to the foot of the bed, I looked at my reflection and could see my back in the opposite mirror. Glancing up, I smiled into the mirror mounted on the ceiling that was the size of the entire bed. The set gave an incredible panoramic view of anything going on in the bed at just about any angle.
I heard the door close and looking into the headboard saw Mark come up behind me. He had removed his shirt and in the mirror behind him I saw the reflection of the huge tattoo that covered his muscular back: A Baphomet; the half man, half goat sitting cross legged within a circle, the universal symbol of Satanism. Over it in gothic lettering was the Latin expression Lex Talionis, The law of retaliation.
"Ready for bed already, sis?" He asked as his arms slowly encircled my waist, pulling me back into him. Reaching down to my left hip, I unsnapped the hook causing the skirt to fall to the floor exposing my red thong.
"I think you know what I'm ready for little brother." I said softly, looking into his eyes through the mirror. Mark bent his head and after gently kissing my bare right shoulder, began working his way up my neck. I sighed and leaning back, ground my ass into his crotch. Even through his jeans I could feel how hard he was.
"That feels sooo sweet," I whispered "But that's not what I need Mark. Just take it." After almost a year without cock I needed it and bad. I reached my right arm back and ran my nails through his thick black hair.
"Yeah? You in a hurry sis?" He looked up in the mirror and smirked. "I thought that's why you liked women; because they take their time." He then moved my hair and kissed the back of my neck.
"I said take me!" I snarled and grabbing a handful of his hair pulled hard, forcing his head up to look at my reflection. "Or have you been playing with little girls so long you've forgotten how to take a woman?" I returned his smirk, in the mirror I saw Mark's eyes darken and prepared myself for the fucking I so desperately needed. Mark's hands came around and grabbing the top of my shirt tore it open with one powerful motion. I wasn't wearing a bra and my tits sprang free. I'm not large up top, but they were still round and firm, each pink nipple pierced with a silver barbell.
"A woman," Mark sneered "More like a whore who's forgotten her place." With that he grabbed each of the barbells between his fingers and twisted hard. I cried out as an exquisite mix of pleasure and pain coursed through my body. I swear I could feel my pussy begin to drip. Mark grabbed my hair and yanked my head back to look at him.
"Allow me to remind you of your place." Stepping back, Mark yanked on my hair again. Pulling me off balance, he deftly placed his leg behind mine causing me to trip. Using my hair as a handle, he wrenched me completely around as I fell. My back struck the edge of the mattress and I slid down onto the floor in a sitting position, my scalp burning with another delightful wave of pain.
I reached up and raked my nails down his bare chest, he didn't make a sound, but a look of ecstasy crossed his face. I grabbed his jeans and unsnapping them saw he wasn't wearing any underwear, oh how I love that look! I reached in to grab my prize, but Mark slapped my hands away.
"Like you deserve to take it out!" He snapped and moving quickly grabbed my hands and pushing them together, captured my thin wrists in one hand. His grip was not gentle and I winced as he forced them back over my head. Despite the discomfort I watched in breathless anticipation as Mark reached into his jeans and knowing I was dying for it, slowly pulled it out.
Like the rest of him my brother's cock is nothing short of incredible, in plain English it is fucking huge, easily the biggest I have ever seen. Long and thick, it is the type of cock that’s as much a weapon as it is a part of his anatomy. Many a young girl had squealed in pain from it and he loved every minute of it. Speaking of loving it, I opened wide, incapable of even pretending I didn't want it in my mouth.
"Yeah you want that cock?" He asked as he whipped it across my face, slapping me with it hard enough to hurt.
"Don't tease." I begged giving him what he wanted "Please don't tease."
That was the wrong thing to do. Mark pushed it against my cheek and I could feel his sticky pre cum drip on my face. I let out a low moan and, looking up at him, parted my lips and slid my tongue out. Taking his dripping prick Mark touched it to the tip of my tongue giving me just a taste. I looked up into his eyes and whispered; “More. Please more”
That was all it took as he stepped up and shoved it three quarters down my throat. I moaned as I began to suck it. I started slow, but couldn't hold back and began going faster, I could feel him dripping down my throat and my mouth was stretched almost to the limit.
"Is that the best you can do?" He asked me "You call that head? Did all that pussy licking make you forget how to suck cock?"
Knowing what was coming, I tilted my head as far back as I could. My brother didn’t disappoint, pushing the entire length of his huge prick into my mouth. He held it there for a few seconds, then began slamming it in and out as if it were in my pussy. Mark leaned over, bracing his weight on the arm that was holding mine down on the bed, stretching my shoulders painfully. I sat there, arms pinned getting so brutally face fucked my eyes were watering and felt another surge of wetness flow through my pussy.
Mark put his left leg up on the bed, changing the angle and forcing his cock even deeper. Reaching down he gave the barbell in my left nipple another twist. I squealed around his cock and Mark gave a low groan, the noise sending a thrill through me. For a moment, I thought he was going to cum, but instead he stepped back, yanking his cock from my mouth.
"Oh goddamn!" I got out as I sat there gasping for breath.
"Fucking skank like you doesn't deserve to taste it!" He snapped. Then pulling my arms up demonstrated his amazing strength. Using only one arm he yanked me straight up to my feet. I cried out at the searing pain in my shoulders. Holding me there Mark put his head down and began to roughly suck on my left nipple. This was his mistake as I dropped my head down, and with no hesitation, bit into the back of his shoulder. I tasted blood and Mark, pulling himself back, let go of my wrists and grabbing me by both shoulders, spun me back around shoved me down over the bed.
The bed had been set high directly at the height of Marks waist so his cock was at the perfect angle for this position. As he stepped up behind me, he pulled my hair, bringing my face up to watch in the headboard mirror. Taking his cock he placed it on my ass and rubbed it back and forth stopping with the tip on my own Baphomet tattoo at the small of my back. I saw him looking up, enjoying the view in the mirrored ceiling. I have to say from my angle it looked pretty damn good, but I needed a fucking not a show.
"Are you going to fuck me or play with yourself?"
I was rewarded with a wicked slap across my ass. Mark did, however, slide my thong to the side, placing his cock at the entrance of my pussy. I tried to push back and received a slap to the other side of my ass.
"Oh please just fuck me little brother I need that beautiful fucking cock so bad! I..... Oh fuck yeah!" I exclaimed as with one smooth thrust, Mark rammed the entire length into my soaking wet pussy. Still holding my hair he began fucking me; hard, long, steady strokes that felt so fucking good I was yelping with each pump. To not have a man for a year and then to have this man was positively painful. My pussy felt stretched to its limit and I loved every minute of it.
"Oh yeah, that's it Mark just like that, fuck that pussy!"
Mark let go of my hair and, grabbing my hips, began slamming me harder, drawing me into his powerful thrusts with such force I was going to have bruises in the morning. It looked almost as good as it felt, Mark was slicked with sweat and the muscles in his chest and arms were flexing as he drove in and out of me. His dark eyes were reflecting the candle light giving the illusion they were glowing. His face was transformed into a look of pure lust and I knew the feeling. I was completely caught up, all but screaming;
"That's right, fuck that pussy! Fuck your nasty big sister! Give her what she needs! Oh yeah, baby, just like that!!" Mark paused and with that trademark smirk said;
"What are you so happy for? I'm only fucking you because I couldn't take that lousy blowjob anymore."
"I'm the best cocksucker you've ever had. Now shut up and fuck me!" Enough was enough.
He returned to slamming me, he was going faster, his breathing was picking up as he closed in on his climax. That wouldn't do, apparently Mark had forgotten his big sister always came first.
"Good thing you got that big prick." I told him in between my yelps of pleasure. "That's all it takes to impress the girls, I bet you forgot how to make a real woman cum." I winked at him in the mirror.
Immediately he pulled himself out and lifting me by the hips, pushed me up onto the bed where I rolled over onto my back. Mark dropped to his knees between my legs and I put my boots up on his shoulders.
Mark didn't lick my pussy, he attacked it. Plunging two fingers into it he began roughly shoving them in and out. As he did he began sucking hard on my clit so hard his lips were smacking. Once again that exotic mix of pleasure and pain flowed through me. I returned the favor by pushing down hard with my legs, the heels of my boots digging into his shoulders until a thin trickle of blood began flowing down his left arm. I looked up and watched in the mirror.
It was almost enough to make me cum then and there seeing myself stretched out naked, my beautiful brother kneeling between my legs. I began playing with my nipples and could feel my orgasm building. I knew it was going to be best one I’d had in a long time, especially when Mark increased both the force and speed of his sucking and fingering.
"Ohhhh," I moaned, it was so close! I could feel my legs tense up pushing harder into his shoulders. I arched my back and began pumping my pussy into his face.
"That's right," I hissed between my clenched teeth. "Suck that pussy, your favorite pussy, the first pussy you ever had." I reached down and got a hand full of his hair "The best pussy you ever had!" I felt the waves of orgasm starting to flow through my hips, almost there, I was almost there.
"Make your sister cum little brother." I implored him.
Mark continued to suck and just as I was beginning to reach the edge, he brought his other hand up and slid his finger into my ass. I came like an animal, head back, mouth wide open, and wailing like a banshee. As surge after surge of pleasure wracked my body, I held Mark's head in place, grinding my quivering pussy into his talented tongue. He was still sucking and fingering both holes when I realized another orgasm was right behind the first one.
"Oh god Mark, don't stop!"
Once again I put my head back and screamed. I stayed there for a moment my back and hips off the bed and Mark's head trapped by my clenched thighs. With another primal scream of raw pleasure, I collapsed back onto the bed, my legs falling limply from his bleeding shoulders.
"Oh, I oh..." I couldn't speak nor could I move. I felt as if I had died and come back again. Mark stayed between my legs on his knees smiling.
"My turn." He said simply.
Standing up he pushed me further up on the bed then, after taking a second to step out of his jeans, came up onto the bed and, keeping my knees bent over his shoulders, drove his cock into me full force.
"Oh, my fucking god!!" I shouted.
My legs were bent back behind my ears, my ass was off the bed and he was buried to the hilt inside me. Mark began fucking the shit out of me, there was no other way to put it. He was putting everything he had into each thrust, I was beyond moaning now, I was pretty much whimpering and it was driving Mark crazy. I reached up and put my hands on his sweat soaked back. Once again I looked up into the mirror, and was transfixed by the sight of him over me, the powerful muscles of his back bulging and his perfect ass flexing as he pumped me harder and faster.
Mark was breathing hard, beginning to make those little noises he always denied making when he got close. Knowing he was on the edge, I raked my nails as hard as I could down his back. The breath hissed out between his teeth and I ripped back up through the trail I had left, Mark moaned and I could feel his arms tremble, at that moment I turned my head and bit savagely into his arm while scratching down his back again. Mark's eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a howl of his own, as he came deep inside me. Spurt after spurt of his thick hot fluid gushed into my pussy, filling me to the point where I could feel it trickling out around his cock. He groaned and moving his arms so I could put my legs down, collapsed on top of me.
I wrapped my legs around him, whispering, "That's it little brother, I want all of it."
I clenched my pussy around him milking every drop. I could feel his heart beating against mine and put my arms around him. I held him close, listening to his heavy breathing in my ear. I looked up and saw the long red lines on his back and knew the sweat had to be making them sting like hell, but also knew that he loved it. Mark slowly pushed himself up and sat back on his knees.
"Is that what you needed, sis?" He asked breathlessly.
"You're always what I need little brother."
I lay there unsure of whether or not I'd even be able to move and with a smile Mark leaned over and kissed me. His face smelled delightfully like my pussy.
"I know the feeling."
He agreed, lifting my right foot, he unzipped my boot and tossed it to the floor. He removed the other as well and then stood. "I'll be right back." He said and left the room, probably to clean up his back, after all these had to be three hundred dollar satin sheets.
With an effort, I propped myself up and scooted up the bed to the pillows. I was so relaxed and already knew I would sleep. Damn that had been incredible even by our standards
Mark came back with a bottle of water which I gratefully accepted; taking several long swallows before handing it back to him. He placed it on the nightstand on my side and put the candelabra. The one on his side was always left on. Lying down next to me, he pulled the top sheet up to our waists. I rolled over into him, putting my head on his chest. He put his arm around me and said, “Look up," He smiled at me in the mirror, "Are we not beautiful?" he asked.
"On the outside anyway." I told him which got a laugh out of him. This felt great, but it wasn't what I really wanted. I rolled back over onto my right side and waited.
Mark rolled over next to me and sliding one arm underneath my pillow so that my head was resting on it. He placed his other arm around my waist and pulled me in close, my back up against his chest. This was what I needed. The one place that, no matter how bad things were, I always felt safe was right here in my brother's arms. Mark kissed my shoulder.
"Goodnight my sister. Sweet dreams."
I sighed contentedly, already feeling sleep beginning to overcome me, before I surrendered to it I whispered;
"Good night, my beautiful little brother."
I awoke slowly, opening my eyes for a moment, before closing them and drifting off for another few minutes. How many times I did this, I'm not sure, but each time, I basked in that warm drowsy feeling that, if you've ever experienced insomnia, is something you would kill for. As always a visit with Mark was all I needed. When I finally opened my eyes, and could keep them open, it was seven am. Rolling over I saw Mark had gotten up. I must have really been out not to notice him leaving.
Mark was a creature of habit. Although I hadn't heard the alarm, I knew he had gotten up at six to go upstairs to the gym where he would work out until eight. Two hours every day, weights, the universal, and a half hour session with the punching bag. This routine helped keep him sane. On the surface Mark doesn’t appear to have the issues I’ve had. Drug addiction is an obvious problem, almost impossible to hide. Mark's addiction is more subtle; for lack of a better term, Mark is a rage aholic
Having endured years of abuse at the hands of a coke addict my brother still has a lot of darkness inside. Not to mention what he had inherited from our lunatic father. But like my addiction, Mark and I never discuss his illness. When he was younger this would lead to black-out rages making Mark's insomnia all the more dangerous. Just like mine, it can trigger that darkness. Where I am self destructive, Mark is pure destruction. Put in an equation it would be; Insomnia plus rage in addition to years of martial arts training equaled Oh shit! Fifteen years ago when he was twenty one Mark ran into his former foster father, Max, in a bar and using cocaine lured him back to his apartment where he came within seconds of killing him.
Only a great lawyer provided by a family friend got Mark off, spinning it as self defense. Max had been in critical condition for over a week. If he’d died, Mark would have never gotten to where he was today. Since then, with the exception of a few bad situations his drug addled sister got him into, Mark has pretty much maintained control. His theory is he works out early and gets the adrenalin out of his system before anybody pisses him off. Anyone who has ever watched him work the punching back walks away disturbed. Although it’s been over twenty years Mark told me that, after a few minutes, all he sees is Max.
Mark has another outlet for that darkness and the room I was in was the prime example of it. Mark is a true master of women, many of them having been broken and trained in this very bed. Of course the woman who broke Mark was none other than his nasty big sister. Mark truly is everything to me; brother, best friend and my secret lover of, at this point, almost twenty years. Rolling over onto my stomach, I closed my eyes and hoping to nod off again, let my mind wander back to the days when I had decided I should seduce my brother.
The sexual abuse at the hands of my foster father left its mark on me in many ways. To this day I sometimes have a hard time having sex with men when I am not fully in control, hence my tendency to dominate. With women I am fine with lying back and letting them play.
I was well aware fucking one's brother is generally associated with trailer parks and is universally frowned upon, but I have always believed if it feels good do it and fucking my brother has always felt pretty damn good. Mark and I have kept this secret for two decades, and the only thing that bothers me is that it's never bothered me. I was twenty and Mark eighteen the night I seduced him and it made sense at the time.
Back then, after almost ten years apart, Mark and I were not so close as brother and sister. But we were very close in that we were tortured souls who had survived things most people could never understand. So close in fact that, even before I took him, we slept together. This started when I would hear Mark through the adjoining bathroom we shared, wake up screaming from nightmares. After a few nights, I went in there and lying with him in his bed, held him close. I told him of my own bad dreams and after that, at least a couple of times a week, we would sleep in the same bed.
Mark felt so good! Both of us had emptiness inside, but when we were close like that it seemed to disappear. It was as if we fit together like two pieces of a broken plate and we only trusted each other. Mark was the only man I was sure would never hurt me. In fact Mark, who everyone else considered a bad ass, followed me around like a puppy. I think it was the fact I knew I could control him that led me to decide to let him fuck me. Well that and one other issue.
I was twenty and horny as hell and on any given day would masturbate twice and some days as if it was a sporting event. I was an attractive girl and had no problems getting dates. Although I wouldn’t refer to myself as easy, I wasn't all that hard to get either. I had no initial qualms about letting some lucky guy get a piece of my pretty little pussy and if they were really good; a sampling of my made for cock sucking lips.
Problem was most of the time; because of what I’ve been through I would get uptight and nervous. Many nights I backed off, giving the impression I didn’t want it, when I very much did. The few guys I did take a chance with I ended up not enjoying it the way I should. I knew the guys weren't going to hurt me and could spend all day thinking about the great time I was going to have, hell I could soak through my panties, but when they fucked me I just couldn't seem to cut loose.
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