I Forced My Brother to Fuck Me and I’m Not Sorry [F/M][brother/sister][femdom][incest][noncon][dubcon][blackmail][big tits][chubby][pregnancy risk][romantic]

*The following story is entirely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons alive or dead is entirely coincidental. Also, always make sure that when you fuck your brother in real life, you have his full enthusiastic consent. Thank you.*

Think about the worst thing you’ve ever done. Was it really bad? Maybe you cheated on someone. Maybe you stole something. (Did you get caught? No? Well done.) Maybe it’s worse than that. Maybe you got into a fight and assaulted someone. Maybe you did some time? Whoever you are I doubt that the worst thing you’ve ever done is as bad as what I did. Yeah, that’s right. I raped my own brother.

You want to know what happened, don’t you? How? Why? Maybe you’re a little excited to hear the details. Maybe you’re as sick as me and you would do the same if you could. Well, strap in, dear reader, because I am going to tell you.

I always fucking hated my little brother’s girlfriends. To be honest, I guess you could say I was jealous. It didn’t help that he was the golden boy of the family. My parents’ favorite. I was the fuck-up, no doubt about it. It didn’t matter that I made straight-As, because I failed in the most fundamental way that a girl could. I failed to be thin enough for a man to want to marry me. At least, that was my mother’s opinion. By the time I was 18, my mother had had me on a diet pretty much constantly for 8 years. I was hungry all the time, but somehow never seemed to be thin enough to please her. I guess that’s what comes of having a parent who was an ex-state beauty queen. My dad, when he was home, never argued with her. “Life’s tough, Alexis.” He would say. “You have to have self-discipline if you want to survive in this world.”

High school was hell for me. I was smart, but I was obviously never going to be the cheerleader type. The other girls never let me forget that. It didn’t help that I lost my virginity to a football player, who I then found out had a girlfriend. When she found out, she posted on Instagram about what a pathetic fat slut I was, trying to steal someone else’s man, and said that I would only ever get used as a cum dumpster because guys wouldn’t actually date a fat girl, they would just use us to unload their cum. It hurt. It hurt, and I began to believe it. I sucked a lot of cock through high school, just trying to get some validation that someone could like me. At least they seemed to like my 42DD tits, even if they didn’t like *me*.

Jason, on the other hand, did well in high school. He was confident, athletic, wise-cracking. He was not as academically adept as I was, sure, but good enough to float by on charm. If I ever got anything less than an A? Grounded. If Jason got a C+ in English again? “It’s okay, honey. You’ll do better next time. I believe in you.” My mother doted on him, and my father loved having someone to take on hunting trips with him. Did he ever think to invite me on a hunting trip, you may ask? I am sure I don’t have to tell you.

To my parents, Jason could do no wrong. If I stayed out past curfew? Grounded for a week. If Jason did the same thing? Oh, it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t had a decent way to get home. “Make sure you take the BMW next time, sweetie. Here are the keys.”

Two years younger than me, Jason ended up dating the very kind of girls that would bully me. Stuck up skinny bitches who thought the world owed them something. There was Amber, who told the whole school that I had blown the gym teacher. (I would have if I’d had the chance, to be fair. But I didn’t.) Then there was Hailey, who would literally look right through me as if I didn’t exist. The worst was Ashley, who has since married a successful tech millionaire. She was the one who, when I was walking home from school one day with a frappe from Starbucks, ran up to me unexpectedly and knocked it out of my hands, instantly splattering it down the front of my white t-shirt. I didn’t realize until the next day that it had been a planned prank, and one of her friends had been filming me. The post went viral. I got random messages from unknown numbers: “she did u a favor u need a diet lol”. Six months later, she was dating my brother. “Don’t you know what she did to me?” I asked him. “It was just a joke. Get over it, Lexi.” He dismissed me.

I couldn’t wait to get out of that household. When I went to college, my life rapidly changed for the better. With a full scholarship to UC Berkeley, and away from my parents and bullies, I could redefine myself. I took up weightlifting and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and improved my body confidence. I realized that it was possible for a big girl to also be sexy, and there were plenty of men who appreciated that. And if they didn’t, it didn’t matter anyway because I was worth more than my attractiveness to men. (Sorry, Mom. I know you’ll never understand this.)

When my father died of a heart attack when I was 27, it was a bit of a shock. I realized then that I hadn’t been home in three years. There were so many things that I wish I’d said to him. So much unspoken anger. If I’d explained to him the ways that he and my mother had always made me feel less-than and had always had to question my own worth, would he ever have understood? Could we have made a reconciliation? It’s hard to say.

I had barely spoken to my brother since college. He had a job in finance by that point and was engaged to a yoga instructor with a healthy Instagram following. Sometimes he would appear in her obnoxiously smug fitspo postings, holding hands on a mountain as they precariously posed in Warrior 2. He had clearly managed to make for himself the life that my parents had always wanted for him. I was a successful young attorney by then, on track to making partner at a mid-sized firm in Sacramento, but all my mother could ask me about when she called was if I was seeing anyone, if it was serious, if I had read that article about intermittent fasting that she had sent me, or if I had heard about how my cousin Vanessa was pregnant with her second child and wasn’t it exciting? Wasn’t it exciting for Vanessa that she had married that nice doctor so she could stay home and raise a family?

At the funeral, my brother wore an elegant Armani suit, perfectly fitted to his tanned, muscular frame. The yoga instructor wore Audrey Hepburn-style shades, perhaps to give the illusion that she might be crying over the loss of her almost-father-in-law? I stifled a chuckle as I watched her bony ankles rock and falter over the uneven cemetery ground. She had chosen 5-inch heels for the occasion. Was she self-conscious over her diminutive height? I have heard that short women worry about these things but have never been able to conceive it, at my size. At 6’1”, I have my brother beat by a half an inch, and I believe that growing up, me alluding to my superior height was perhaps the only way I could ever successfully nettle him.

The wake was well attended. I don’t know if my father could be called well-liked exactly, but he was certainly well connected. My brother’s fiancée spent a lot of time with my mother, who cried volubly on the twig-like girl’s shoulder. Ah, yes. The yoga instructor was the daughter she had never had. My mother barely said a word to me that day, and I can’t say I was heartbroken from the lack of attention.

I spent the afternoon getting not-so-quietly drunk with my cousins and intermittently flirting with one of my father’s married golf buddies who had once snuck into a guest bedroom to eat me out at a family barbecue, when I was only nineteen. The way his eyes drank in the sight of my low-cut black dress made me think he’d like to renew our acquaintance. I had moved on from needing the attentions of powerful men to feel validated, though. He wasn’t really my type. I looked up at one point, as the man was playfully patting my arm as he gave me some about how to diversify my stock portfolio to see Jason staring at me from across the room with what I could only imagine was disapproval.

As the evening wore on and the vodka martinis I’d drunk turned from 2 to 4 to 6, I felt a dark fatigue overtake me. Somehow I had managed to compartmentalize my father’s death until this point, and it was only beginning to feel real. It was not that I mourned his presence in my life, exactly, but I did mourn the *idea* of having a loving father, or any sort of loving relationship with my family at all. That’s it. I know I’ve had enough when the melancholy sets in. I stumbled up to my childhood bedroom and faceplanted into the pillow, ready to bury my aching sense of emptiness in a night of restless alcoholic slumber. But I couldn’t get to sleep right away. I needed to self-soothe in the best way I knew how. Time to get out my laptop and vibrator.

It was only after I’d unzipped the laptop case in the semi-dark that I noticed my error. This wasn’t my laptop. Daunted for a moment in my alcoholic confusion, it occurred to me that my bag had been mixed up with my brother’s. Despite our differences we did take after each other in our taste for Armani accessories. I don’t know what possessed me, then, whether it mere drunken poor decision making, or a more commendable instinct to wish to get to know my brother better after the sense of family disconnectedness that I was experiencing, but it was an ethical struggle of mere seconds before I decided to snoop.

Of course it was password protected. But I thought I could hazard a few guesses. My brother wasn’t the most original man on earth. I tried variations of his fiancée’s name, first off. No luck. His favorite type of car, his favorite drink? Nothing. I was getting frustrated. It could be anything. I was no hacker. But I decided to try one last thing, because what the hell. I remembered how once as teenagers, he had somehow hacked all my social media accounts and changed the passwords to SexyLexi6969. It had been a cruel thing to do, right after the rumor about the gym teacher had started circulating. I had been mortified, enraged.

I typed it in.

Reader, I think you must know by now that it worked. All these years, and my brother was holding onto that little jibe against me. I didn’t know whether to be angry or flattered but was no doubt deeply surprised. What other revelations were in store for me?

Being the type of woman that I am, my first instinct was to check his Pornhub account. My god, did it deliver. I suppose I hadn’t expected anything apart from the extremely stereotypical tanned teens getting facials, or overly made-up blondes in high-res getting “blacked”. Nothing you couldn’t find on the first page when you brought up Pornhub in an incognito window. But the women he liked to watch fuck looked nothing like his petite yoga instructor. They looked like… Well, reader, they looked like me. Girls with enormous tits and asses and soft bellies. It seemed his top search term was chubby, and there were more than one with a title that included, “42DD”. Could this be a coincidence? I think not. I found one entitled, “chubby sister fucked”, and my lord, I admit it. I felt something. I found my hand wandering down to my crotch, almost as if by accident. I found myself beginning to rub myself softly through my panties and could feel a warmth growing inside my pubic region. I love to watch women who look like myself get fucked, but it would never have occurred to me in a million years that my brother would have liked the same thing.

What was he doing with his yoga instructor, then? I didn’t really have to wonder about it. I had known men like him before. I’d fucked a few of them in my freshman year of college. For appearances, they would date aspiring fitness models, but if they really wanted to *fuck*, they would come to me. No one could know about us. Trying to keep it on the down low. Thank god I had outgrown that phase, where I thought I could never be more than a dirty little secret. The men I dated now were proud to be seen with me.

Intrigued, I had a sneaking suspicion. I accessed his Instagram feed. No, not his main Insta. The secret one. It didn’t take long to find it. And I had hit the mother lode. It was obvious that my brother had been fucking around on his fiancée, and *a lot.* There were at least three message interchanges between him and other women just in the last month alone, all completely filthy. I logged into his Google Photos account and, even after everything I’d found, I was still surprised at the audacity of it. There were videos of him *fucking*. Dozens of them. Beautiful brunettes with bouncing massive tits and unbelievably proportioned jiggling assess. He had a clear type.

My god. What would the yoga instructor think? They had already spent over a hundred thousand on the wedding. What a mess it would be if she were to find out. I tried to imagine the mask of horror on her face if she were to watch one of the videos, and I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. It was cruel of me, I admit.

Without much hesitance, I decided to send myself the evidence. I shared the videos and emailed myself the link. I quickly snuck to his room, seeing that it was still empty and retrieved my actual laptop bag, took it back to my room and downloaded the videos for safekeeping. I wasn’t sure at that point what I was going to do with that information. Okay, I think I did know, and you know too, but I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself. Just to make sure it had downloaded correctly, mind you, I pulled up a recent one, with a girl who was straddling him, sliding up and down on his cock. My god, my brother had a beautiful cock. It was thick and slightly curved upward, with a large glans. I found my hands wandering again and I slid my fingers inside my panties, slickly parting the lips of my pussy with two fingers, sliding inside. I sat up in the bed, in the position that the girl was in, her long brown hair (similar to my hair) cascading down her back, as her enormous globes of ass-cheek jerked up and down, her cunt eating my brother’s perfect dick. I couldn’t help but imagine how good it would feel for that big cock head to rub in and out of the entrance to my vagina, just inside, hitting that bundle of nerves inside my front entrance, driving me wild.

In my depraved, inebriated state of desire, I decided to make a move immediately. I pulled my dress back down and slipped downstairs to pull him away from the morose gathering. He was annoyed when I told him I needed to see him in my room, and a bit confused, but curious enough to agree to it.

When we got upstairs, I didn’t beat around the bush. My laptop was open on my bed and I showed him the luscious girl he’d been ploughing in the video I’d just watched.

I had never seen my brother look so stunned.

“How the fuck did you get this?”

“SexyLexi6969. Really, bro? Really? You’re gonna fuck around on your fiancée and you wouldn’t even think to use a more advanced password?”

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled and came toward me. I really think he would have hit me, if I hadn’t been ready for it. I grabbed his arm, and spun him around in a classic takedown, throwing him on the bed. I pushed him back to a prone position and straddled him. He might work out, but he didn’t do martial arts, and he had been caught off balance by my response. I pinned down his arms, and he struggled, so I slapped him. “Don’t you fucking dare!” I growled. “I will tell her everything. You better calm the fuck down if you don’t want me to blow up your life, you little shit.”

I pinned his arms to his sides, and pressed down against him with my massive thighs, trapping him. He may have been able to fight me off if I hadn’t threatened him with personal ruin. It didn’t take long to realize that his anger wasn’t the only thing that I’d aroused. His cock was hardening, under my crotch. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with sexual excitement. I felt like my skin was on fire, and I could feel my nipples becoming erect as my pussy flooded with juices. Without being able to stop myself if I had wanted to, I started to slowly grind my mons against the bulge in his trousers. He groaned, despite himself. “What the fuck are you doing, Lexi? Ohhhhh godddddd.” He let out a long groan.

“You know what I’m fucking doing. I watched all your amateur porn clips, Jason.” I goaded him. “You have a definite type, and it ain’t tight little yoga instructors.” He let out a long sigh.

“Get off me.” He begged, unconvincingly.

“Or what? Or you’ll do what?” I taunted.

He didn’t have an answer for me. I unzipped his trousers, and with a fluid motion, yanked them down to his knees to expose his Ralph Lauren boxer briefs. He looked so fucking sexy like that, I wanted to savour the moment.

“Okay, listen up, shithead. I own you now. If you want to get married to that stupid bitch with her rich parents and go live in that cute condo her parents have bought for you, and continue on with your pathetic empty, pretty life, you are going to do exactly as I say right now. Do you understand me?”

He squeezed his eyes tight. “Yes.”

“Tell me that you love me.”

“What the fuck, Lexi? This is so fucked up.”
“Tell me that you love me and you can’t wait to fuck your big sister in her tight pussy.”

“I love you.”
I leaned down to grab him by the hair and whispered in his ear.

“And you can’t wait to fuck your big sister in her tight pussy. Say it, bitch.” I bit down on the cartilage of his ear, and he gave an involuntary yelp.

“I love you, and I can’t wait to fuck my big sister in her tight pussy.” He nearly whispered, hardly getting the words out.

“Good boy.” I unzipped my dress, and slipped it off, so that I was straddling him now with only my matching black La Perla lingerie set, my massive bust spilling out over the demi-cups. “Feel my tits.” I ordered him. His hands wandering up my sides, sending a shiver up my spine as the warm flesh of his palms grazed my smooth skin. His hands found my soft, full breasts, and I could hear his breathing change as he lightly cupped them in his hands.

“This is so sick.” He said. “Please don’t make me do this. Jesus Christ.”

I ground my wet silky panties against his briefs. “It doesn’t feel like you don’t want to do this, little brother. I’m not convinced.” I leaned back and unfastened my bra, slipped it down my shoulders and then tossing it off the bed, my full, round globes exposed to his view. He let out a sharp breath. I leaned down and said, “Suck them. Get my nipples nice and hard.”

He opened his mouth and suckled at my breast, his hot wet mouth sending an electric shock from my hardening pink nub down to my clit. For a moment, I thought I might cum just from this. I don’t think I had ever been this aroused before in my life, being in control of my beautiful brother with the building excitement that he would be inside me soon.

He was still mostly clothed, in his suit shirt and loosened tie, his shoes hanging over the bed, his pants halfway down. I needed to see his naked body. I got off him and ordered him to stand up and strip, facing me as I sat on the edge of the bed gazing at him in full command.

Watching him stand there, slowly unbuttoning his shirt trembling with shame was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, but that was before I saw my brother’s full naked body. He really was a Greek statue, except for one small thing. Or, one very big thing, actually. I hadn’t seen him shirtless since we were teenagers, and his body had certainly matured since then. I was pleased to see he didn’t manscape at all. He had a light smattering of blonde chest hair, slightly darker than on his head, that extended into a delicious snail trail down to a full bush. His stunningly pretty cock was fully erect now. There was no hiding it. He was as turned on as I was, even if he claimed to hate every minute of it.

I slid off my panties, so that we were both naked together and I spread my thighs. He turned his head away from me. “Don’t you look away from me unless I tell you to. Look at me!” He turned back his gaze and I could read a delectable mixture of arousal and fear on his face. I patted the bed beside me. Come lie back down next to me. Now.”

He obliged me. At this point, he was no longer resisting my demands. It felt so good to have total control of him. I slid my hand down his belly, feeling the soft blond fur trail against his hot, hard abs, and gave a little gasp of pleasure as I grasped hold of his penis. It was so warm and hard in my hand. I gave it a few strokes, and my brother’s breathing got more ragged.

“I’m going to kiss you now, and you better let me.” I said, and he parted his lips for my tongue. Perhaps it’s crazy to say it but sliding my tongue into my brother’s mouth somehow felt the most perverse thing I’d done so far. The intimacy of our faces pressed up against one another and making him perform this act seemed like the biggest violation up to this point. His mouth tasted slightly of whiskey. It didn’t take long before he was kissing me back, erotically guiding his open mouth to mine. Perhaps there is a genetic factor that influences kissing style, because he did it perfectly, as if he could read my mind and knew exactly how to manipulate his lips and tongue, and breath to set my whole body further on fire.

“I want you to keep kissing me like you’re doing right now,” I sighed, “but not on my mouth.” I grinned. He closed his eyes but didn’t protest as I moved my legs up his body and lowered my dripping cunt onto his face. He plunged his tongue inside me full bore and I moaned and slide myself over his lips and nose. It felt so good to defile his beautiful chiselled face with my sopping, aching gash. I moved my hips forward again, gripping his perfect curls and grunted, “Now eat my asshole, bitch.” He let out a sigh. Was it disgust? Excitement? I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel his lovely tongue shamefully rimming me. “How does it feel to eat your sister’s asshole, little brother?” I chided. I forgave him not answering, because his mouth was full. I slid my fingers over my clit while he performed analingus on me, and I began to feel my first orgasm of the night coming on. The steady wet pressure of his tongue on my anus, and the excitement of degrading him so fully, overwhelmed me. Rubbing the flat of four fingers over my clit rapid-fire, I pushed myself over the edge and my pussy and asshole spasmed all at once. I pushed my ass cheeks down into his face, smothering him for a moment as I let the waves of hot contractions rip through me. I couldn’t help but cry out, and at that moment I honestly didn’t care if we were discovered. I finally lifted my ass off his face, and then crouched above his body, lining up my cunt so that it hovered above his straining erection.

I plunged my pussy down on his cock, engulfing him in one clean movement, and the abrupt sensation of being stretched by his gorgeous phallus was incredible. I felt like it wouldn’t take long for me to cum again. I began to ride him, roughly fucking my hips back in forth as my tits bounced in his face. “Grab my tits, Jason. Unf. I want your hands on my tits.” He obliged, and the sensation of his hands gently squeezing my breasts as I controlled his glans to repeatedly hit my g-spot was astounding. “I’m going to cum again on your big cock. Jesus. Your cock feels so fucking good.” I could hear him breathing quickly now. “Lexi.” He gasped. “Lexi. We can’t. I’m not wearing a condom. I’m gonna… Oh Jesus.” Oh my god. I hadn’t even thought of that. In my excitement, it hadn’t occurred to me to use protection. I wasn’t on the pill, and it was a dangerous time of the month. Somehow, the idea of getting pregnant with my brother’s baby was the thing to send me into a full-body orgasm once again, and with the pressure on my g-spot, the orgasmic contractions made me squirt harder than I ever had in my life, the spray of my gushing cunt reaching all the way up my brother’s body, drenching him from belly to forehead. He cried out then, and I realized that he was cumming inside me. Instead of quickly jumping off him as would have been wise, I drove down my pussy on him, revelling the sensation of his throbbing bursts of semen erupting into me. “Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh god no.” He said.

“Shhh.” I whispered. “It’s okay. It’s the 21st century. The technology exists to take care of these things.” He laughed. I lay down beside him. He held me, and we lay like that for a few minutes, panting, processing what had happened.

He looked at me then, and we both knew that we didn’t need to pretend anymore. Something inside me broke, and I felt tears coming. “I missed you so much, Lexi.” He said. “I do fucking love you. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.” He kissed me again, then, and I felt his body against mine, really felt it, not just as an instrument upon which to take out my pleasure and rage, but I felt *him.* I realized that he was getting hard again.

This time, he took the lead. I felt his entire body along mine, from his mouth on my mouth, to his chest on my sensitive tits, to his palms against my own, his fingers intertwining with mine, as he moved on top of me and entered me again. This time, we fucked each other slowly. We took our time. I moved my legs around to embrace him and take him deeper inside of me. I don’t think I’ve ever fucked like that before. I don’t think I’ve ever loved before, if I’m honest. It felt terrifying, tender, vulnerable. When the time came, we orgasmed together and I told him I loved him. I don’t think I had said that to any man before. Definitely not my father. We weren’t that kind of family.

Afterward, I knew he had to go. He couldn’t be gone for hours. The yoga teacher would wonder what had become of him. He kissed me, and he left me.

I see my brother more frequently now than I used to. Maybe a couple of times a year, for holidays and birthdays. He’s married to the yoga teacher, of course. They’re expecting their first child. What do you think was going to happen? We still have our reputations to uphold. But every time I see him, we do find some time to sneak away together and I force him to do all the things that he has always secretly wished I would.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/fdd1sg/i_forced_my_brother_to_fuck_me_and_im_not_sorry