This is a brutal story, from the point of view of someone for whom power is an even bigger high than sex itself. It’s one of those stories that people either really like or where they write and ask me how I can write such bleak, emotionally arid stuff. I think there’s a place for the odd sociopath in erotic fiction, so I’m content with this story. Try it for yourself and see what you think.
Before she takes her clothes off Lori looks like a Sunday school teacher: wholesome, unsullied, pure. I’m sure that’s how Joey sees her. That’s probably why he married her. My brother is a gentle man who loves his wife deeply but doesn’t understand her at all.
I understood her from the moment I met her. I knew where she itched and how she needed to be scratched. And she knew it too. As soon as she saw me she knew it. Joey stood there, filled with pride and happiness, with his arm around Lori’s shoulder, oblivious to the recognition passing between her and me, asking me if I approved of his petite virgin bride-to-be. I approved, I approved very much.
“Lori’s been saving herself for Mr. Right,” Joey said, “and she’s decided that I’m him. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I’m not anyone’s Mr. Right but I knew in my guts that I had to own Lori’s soul.
Lori could sense my desire. She blushed when she looked at me and when I kissed her, just a friendly greeting to my soon-to-be sister, I felt her tremble.
She was right to tremble. What I had in mind for her was not a gentle thing. Ours wouldn’t be an affair conducted in anonymous motels; two people struggling to overcome the ennui of suburbia by grabbing moments of tawdry satisfaction. Ours would be much more personal. When I used Lori it would be here, in our house, preferably in her marriage bed. I grinned at both of them and then we drank a toast to a successful marriage.
When I took Lori for the first time, I used the laundry room. I pushed her down amongst her dirty washing and fucked her like the slut we both knew she wanted to be.
She’d been married a month. Poor old hardworking Joey couldn’t afford a honeymoon. He’d spent a week after the wedding fucking Lori in the big bed ma and pa conceived us both in, then he’d gone back to work and left her with me all day. When he got home she’d feed him and talk to him and then they’d go to bed. From what I could hear, my brother should have been a missionary. There’d be 10 minutes or less of groaning springs and then nothing. I would lie in the next room, touching myself as I listened to them. I didn’t have time to get off, so I’m sure she didn’t.
So Lori had had a month of marriage, maybe fifty fucks, and not one come. Poor bitch.
All that month she’d been looking at me. The house only had one bathroom. I made sure she saw me coming out of the shower. I pretended it was of no consequence that I was naked in front of her. She wanted to pretend too but the hunger in her eyes betrayed her.
A month to the day and poor little Lori finds herself doing the laundry in the basement. The honeymoon was over and she was coming to terms with being married to Joey for the rest of her life. Can you picture her, feeling sorry for herself? Wondering if she’d made the wrong decision? Feeling dissatisfied and a little bit guilty? Desperately needing to get off?
We had the house to ourselves; Joey was at work, providing for his wife like a good husband should. I let Lori alone awhile. Then I went down there. She was surrounded by dirty washing; a pair of Joey’s boxers in her hands, a look of disgust on her face.
“Bet your underwear is nicer than that,” I said.
She whirled around to look at me, a little alarmed, but I could see in her eyes that she was pleased. She put Joey’s boxers behind her back like she’d been caught doing something bad.
“Are these yours?” I said, picking up a confection from Victoria’s Secret and moving towards her.
“You wear these on your wedding day hon? I bet you did. They’ve got virgin slut written all over them don’t they? Except Joey only read the first word I’ll bet. Not much of a fuck is he? Not enough of a fuck for you. You deserve better. You deserve me.”
Then I kissed her. Not gently. I sucked in that succulent lower lip I’d been watching all month and worried it with my teeth. I took her breath away.
She gave me that deer-in-the-headlights look. She didn’t move until I ripped open the front of her dress. It tore real easy. She turned. I don’t know if she meant to run. Her foot got caught up in those dirty clothes and she tripped. I was still holding the dress and it ripped off her nicely. Now she was sprawled on the floor in her underwear, most likely feeling foolish and afraid and looking as sexy as hell.
“Please,” she said. “Please.”
Like I’d believe she meant me to stop. Even she didn’t believe she meant me to stop.
I squatted in front of her and looked her over. She stayed still. I think she stopped breathing. I held her jaw and pushed her head up so she’d look at me.
“I’m going to fuck you here on this floor. And you’re going to like it.”
“Please,” she said.
Shit, there was even a tear.
I reached down and ripped away the panties. She slithered backwards spreading her legs for me in the process. I slipped my hand over her mound and made to slide one finger in.
“Stop!” she said, her hand on my wrist.
I stopped. I didn’t remove my finger from the warm folds it was resting against, but I stopped.
“Lori,” I said, my face so close to hers that we were almost kissing, “I’ll never touch you again if you can look me in the eye and tell me that my brother gives you what you need. Just look me in the eye and say that and I promise to be the model sister-in-law.”
There was a moment when all I was aware of was her eyes. She has eyes so dark you feel as if you could fall into them forever. But she wasn’t really looking at me; it seemed more as if she was looking into herself. I don’t know what she found there, but when she focused on me again she looked broken and she looked hungry.
I slid my finger into her, never breaking eye contact. She was tight and a little dry but I knew she would soon warm up. I’m very good at this and I’ve had lots of practice.
Lori tried to bring her legs together, but I slapped them apart with my free hand. I let my thumb find her clit and then I played her like a fish on a line. Lori struggled and sucked in that lower lip of hers and refused to look at me. You could almost think she didn’t want any of this but that wasn’t the message her body was sending me. Her body was cheering me on.
I stopped moving my fingers. Lori looked at me, confused.
“Take the bra off Lori. Show me your breasts.”
She had to lean forward to do that, pushing my fingers deeper into her. I thought she’d be demure, maybe hold her arm across herself, but she surprised me, she threw her bra away and then leant back on her hands, pushing her breasts up at me defiantly.
“Nice,” I said and I meant it. They were bigger than mine. They reminded me of ripe fruit. I just had to bite them. It was all I could do to stop before I drew blood. Lori didn’t scream or even moan, but when I looked up her eyes were moist from the pain.
She was ready for me to kiss her then. To offer her my body. To cuddle up and make her my lover. But that wasn’t going to happen.
I leant over her, fingers still strumming inside her, nuzzled against her ear and said, “He doesn’t take you from behind does he Lori? But you want him to. You lie under him wishing he’d flip you over, push you down and fuck you hard. Don’t you?” I pressed against her G-spot. “Don’t you!”
She didn’t answer me. She didn’t have to.
I sat back on my heels, withdrawing my fingers from her.
“Get on all fours, Lori. Let your tits swing. Be my bitch.”
She moved slowly but she moved.
This is what I’d wanted, me fully dressed and her naked in front of me in the middle of her dirty washing. I let her stay like that while I took in the image, making sure I would never forget it.
I made her wait long enough that she looked back at me over her shoulder. There was so much need in that look that I took pity on her. I used what I call my bowling ball hold: my thumb forced into her asshole and two fingers crooked inside her cunt spreading her wide. She cried out when the thumb went in. I should have used lube. I will next time. But she needed to know how things were going to be between us.
“Fuck my fingers, Lori. Push back against them and fuck hard.”
She lowered her head. Her hair fell forward, hiding her face. Slowly, grunting with each move, she started to hump.
“Come for me Lori. Come for me like you’ll never come for him. Come for me. Come for yourself. Come to yourself. Come for me Lori.”
I was chanting softly as I said this, the pace of my words set by the movement of her body.
She made no noise when she came, she just stiffened, then she started to sob.
My fingers were aching. My thumb stank. But I was on a high. I’d taken the first steps to owning her. I knew that what I did next would either make her mine or lose her completely.
I kicked her, not hard enough to bruise, just hard enough to knock her on her back,
“Look at you Lori. Married a month and you’ve just come on your sister-in-law’s fingers. What will Joey say when I tell him?”
Lori scrambled to her knees, “You wouldn’t…”
“Wouldn’t tell my one and only brother that his wife is a slut that he will never satisfy? That she’d rather fuck his sister than him? Don’t you think he should know this?”
“Please.” She said.
“Yes, Lori. Please is the right word. You will please me. And I will let you keep my brother.”
I could see Lori adding it up and making a decision. She moved forward on her knees and reached for the zip on my jeans.
I laughed. “Not now Lori. Contain yourself. Tomorrow morning, before he goes to work, you will fuck my brother, just to show him how much his new wife loves him. When he’s gone I’ll join you in his bed. You can spend the morning learning how to please me.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I turned my back on her and walked up the stairs out of the basement. As I closed the door behind me I heard Lori loading the washing machine. I put my fingers to my lips. She tasted sweet. Tomorrow morning I would find out how well she used her tongue. Life was getting better by the day.
© Mike Kimera 2002 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from email@example.com
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