The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room. I was barely awake when I heard Mom’s voice drifting up the stairs, calling my name with that particular edge that meant she wouldn’t ask twice. I groaned, throwing the blankets off and dragging myself out of bed. The floor was cold against my feet, a reminder that winter had fully settled in.
Downstairs, the smell of coffee filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint aroma of pancakes on the griddle. Mom was by the stove, her movements brisk and efficient, while Dad sat at the table, hidden behind the morning paper. It was a familiar, mundane scene that almost lulled me into a false sense of calm.
But then I saw Claire lounging at the counter with a mug of coffee in her hands, her hair still tousled from sleep. She glanced at me over the rim of her cup, her eyes narrowing slightly. That look made me feel like I was already losing some unspoken battle.
“Morning,” I muttered, sliding into the seat across from Dad. He barely acknowledged me, just grunted in the way he did when he was too absorbed in the headlines to engage.
Mom turned from the stove, a bright smile plastered on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re up. You two must get on the road soon to beat the snowstorm.”
I stared at her, the words sinking in slowly. “What?”
“Don’t act like you forgot,” Claire said, her voice annoyingly sweet. “We’re going to the cabin today, remember? Dad wants the pipes checked, and you’re the lucky one who gets to take me.”
“Why do I have to go?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Mom and Dad had been trying to push us to spend more time together, as if being siblings automatically meant we should be best friends.
Mom shot me a look, her patience wearing thin. “Because it’s the responsible thing to do. We’ve talked about this, Alex.”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Fine, but can we make it quick?”
Claire just smiled that infuriating smile, like she knew she had won. “Don’t worry, big brother, I won’t keep you too long.”
The drive was almost unbearable. Claire sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio, her fingers tapping out a rhythm she could only hear. The car was filled with the low hum of music, but it did little to ease the tension.
She kept glancing at me, out of the corner of her eye, like she was waiting for me to say something, to break the silence. I kept my focus on the road, the snowflakes swirling in the headlights, trying to ignore the way her presence seemed to fill the car, making it feel smaller and smaller by the minute.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke. “This could be fun if you weren’t so uptight.”
I clenched my jaw, keeping my eyes fixed on the road. “I’m not uptight. I don’t see why we have to do this.”
“Maybe because it’s the holidays, and maybe because Mom and Dad think we should spend more time together,” she said, her tone laced with that familiar mix of sarcasm and something else, something softer.
I glanced at her then, the words on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down. It wasn’t worth the fight, not with the snow piling up around us and the cabin still miles away.
The rest of the drive passed in a blur of white, the landscape blending into an endless stretch of snow and trees. We didn’t talk much after that, the silence thick and heavy between us.
And then, finally, we arrived.
The air was tense as we pulled into the cabin’s snow-covered driveway. The pine trees stood tall and silent; their branches weighed down by the fresh powder. I killed the engine, the sudden silence making the inside of the car feel even smaller. My sister, Claire, sat in the passenger seat, her arms crossed and her expression a mix of boredom and defiance. She had that look about her that had driven me crazy for years, like she was daring me to say something, to start something.
“Great,” I muttered, my breath misting in the cold air as I stepped out of the car. The crunch of snow underfoot was almost soothing, but it did little to calm the irritation simmering beneath the surface.
Claire followed, slamming the car door behind her. She didn’t bother with her coat, just stood in her tight sweater and jeans, the winter chill biting at her cheeks, turning them pink. She looked younger like that, almost innocent, but her jaw set reminded me that innocence had never been her strong suit.
Inside the cabin, the air was warmer, but it felt stifling. The logs in the fireplace were stacked neatly, waiting to be lit, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The tension between us was fire enough. I could feel her eyes on me, watching, waiting for a reaction, something she could pounce on. She had always been like that. Since we were kids, she thrived on pushing my buttons and getting under my skin.
“Are you just gonna stand there all night?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She was already moving toward the small kitchen, her hips swaying with a natural ease that she probably didn’t even notice. Or maybe she did. It was hard to tell with her.
I ignored her and shrugged off my coat, hanging it on the rack by the door. The cabin was small, just a single room with a loft for sleeping. The walls were lined with wooden shelves, filled with books and knick-knacks that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years. A thick rug covered most of the floor, and I wondered briefly if it was as soft as it looked.
I wasn’t here to find out.
“Mom and Dad outdid themselves this time,” Claire said, leaning casually against the counter. She had found a bottle of wine and was twisting it open with practised fingers. The cork popped free with a satisfying sound, and she poured herself a glass, offering me one with a raised eyebrow.
“No thanks,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. She just shrugged and took a sip, her lips leaving a faint red stain on the rim of the glass.
“Suit yourself,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving mine.
The firelight cast flickering shadows across the room as I finally gave in and lit the kindling. The warmth spread quickly, but it didn’t reach the chill between us. I could feel her presence behind me, close, too close.
“You know,” she said softly, her voice almost lost in the crackle of the flames, “you don’t have to be such a jerk all the time.”
I turned to face her, and she was closer than I thought, her body a breath away from mine. Her sweater clung to her curves, the fabric stretched tight across her chest, and I could see the faint outline of her bra beneath. She wasn’t wearing anything under that, no layers to keep out the cold, just the thin knit that did nothing to hide her skin.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a brat all the time, I wouldn’t have to be,” I shot back, but my voice lacked the conviction I wanted it to have. She had a way of getting under my skin, twisting my words until I didn’t even recognize them anymore.
She took another step closer, and I could smell the wine on her breath, sweet and heady. Her hand came up, resting lightly on my chest, and I could feel the heat of her palm through my shirt. My heart was pounding, the rhythm erratic and hard, like it was trying to break free from my ribcage.
“You’re not as tough as you think,” she whispered, her lips curving into a teasing smile. She was so close now, her body brushing against mine, and I could feel every curve, every line of hers pressed into me.
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore how my body was reacting and how my skin was tingling everywhere she touched. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice barely more than a breath.
Her fingers trailed up to my collarbone, lightly grazing the skin above the fabric. “Maybe I’m just tired of fighting,” she said softly, eyes searching mine, looking for something, though I wasn’t sure what.
The air between us was thick with unspoken words, the kind of tension that was both unbearable and irresistible. She leaned in, her lips brushing against my cheek, so soft I wasn’t even sure if it had happened or if I had imagined it.
My breath caught in my throat, and I felt like I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something I couldn’t come back from. But she didn’t move away, didn’t break the contact. Instead, she lingered, her lips hovering just over my skin, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down my spine.
“I hate you,” I whispered, though the words came out shaky and uncertain, more of a confession than an accusation.
“No, you don’t,” she replied, and her voice was so sure, so confident that it made my heart ache. She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes dark and unreadable, but something there made my stomach twist into knots.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and loaded with everything we never said, all the feelings we kept buried under layers of sarcasm and sibling rivalry.
Her hand moved to my neck, her thumb brushing lightly over my pulse, and I knew she could feel how fast it was racing. Her touch was electric, sending sparks through my body, and I couldn’t move or think. All I could do was stand there, feeling like I was on the brink of something I wasn’t ready for, something that scared me as much as it thrilled me.
“You’re not supposed to be doing this,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
“I know,” she replied, but there was no apology in her tone, just a quiet determination that made my resolve crumble.
She leaned in again; I didn’t pull away or fight it this time. Her lips were soft and warm against mine, and for a moment, the world fell away, and there was nothing but the heat of her body, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her fingers tangling in my hair.
We were now kissing like crazy, her hands gripping the back of my neck as she pressed her body closer to mine, her curves fitting perfectly against me like they were made for this. I could feel her breasts pressed against my chest, the tightness of her nipples beneath her sweater, and I knew without a doubt that she wanted this just as much as I did.
My hands moved to her waist, pulling her even closer, and I could feel her hips grinding against mine, the heat between us almost unbearable. My cock was hard, straining against the fabric of my pants, and I could feel the dampness seeping through, a testament to how much I wanted this.
She moaned against my mouth as I slipped my tongue inside, exploring her mouth like it was the first time I couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. Our kiss grew more urgent, more frantic like we were both trying to devour each other.
I slid one hand up her sweater, my fingers tracing the curve of her breast inside her bra, the nipple hard beneath the fabric. She shuddered at my touch, her hips grinding against mine harder, and I knew she was close, so close that I could feel it. She gasped in my mouth.
As I kissed her, I could feel her hand undoing my pants.
Her fingers wrapped around my cock, and I groaned at the sensation of her soft, warm hand on my hard shaft. She began to stroke me, her grip firm; she stopped kissing as she looked me in the eyes.
She smirked, “I knew I could break you,” and she began to stroke me harder and faster, her hand skilled and confident. Her palm slides up and down, the friction sending pleasure shooting through me, every nerve ending alight with her touch. She wraps her other hand around my balls, squeezing them gently, and it’s almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain.
I reach down to her, my fingers gripping the waistband of her jeans. I tug at them, and she lets me, wriggling out of them as if she’s done it a thousand times before, revealing her pussy beneath, already slick with desire. I can’t help but stare at it, her labia already swollen, the entrance glistening with wetness, the scent of her pussy filling the air around us.
“Do you want me?” she asks, her voice husky and low, and there’s no mistaking the desire in her gaze. I nod, too caught up in the pleasure of her touch to do anything else.
She positions herself on the edge of the counter, her pussy spread open before me, and I don’t hesitate, gripping her hips as I slide inside her. She gasps at the sensation, and I can feel her muscles clenching around me, trying to pull me deeper. I thrust into her again and again, each stroke sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
She moans, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I begin to thrust harder and faster. Her pussy is slick with wetness, making every stroke smooth and easy, and I can feel her muscles clenching around me, trying to keep me inside her.
I look down at my cock as it slides in and out of her, it looked so hot.
“Um… Uh, fucking feels good Alex d-dont stop you piece of shit, fuck me like a slut,” her mouth was filthy and I loved it.
Claire’s dirty talk only fuels me further, and I piston my hips, driving into her harder and faster. She wraps her legs around me, locking her ankles behind my back and pulling me even deeper inside of her. Her pussy feels like a vice around my cock, each stroke causing her to gasp and moan in pleasure.
“God, yes. Fuck me harder, Alex. Give it to me,” she begs, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as she holds on for dear life. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, the nipples hard and pointed as they brush against my chest.
I lean down, capturing one of her nipples in my mouth and sucking on it greedily. She cries out, her body arching off the counter as I tease and torment her nipple. I move to the other one, giving it the same treatment, while continuing to fuck her hard and fast.
Sweat drips from my forehead as I pant and grunt, each stroke becoming more laboured as I feel my release building. I can tell that Claire is close, her pussy clenching around my cock and her moans growing more desperate.
With one final thrust, I bury myself deep inside of her, and she cries out as her orgasm hits. I feel her muscles clamp down on my cock, milking it for every drop of cum as her body shakes and trembles with her release. I collapse against her, spent and breathing hard as we both come down from our highs.
“Oh my god,” Claire breathes, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. She looks up at me, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “That felt so good, big bro, Alex.”
“Yeah, it was,” I agree, still panting and trying to get my breathing under control. My cock slips out of her, leaving a trail of cum glistening on her inner thighs.
We sit there momentarily, catching our breath and basking in the afterglow of the sex we just had. Eventually, I pull away and help her down from the counter, my cock already starting to soften. We clean ourselves up and get dressed, the silence between us no longer tense but comfortable.
The next thing, the weather had been getting crazy, but I was too busy nailing my sister to notice. I go to check the front door.
“It looks like the storm is getting worse,” I said, my voice finally returning to normal. The wind was howling outside, sending snow swirling into the air. The sound of ice pellets pinging against the windows created a soothing rhythmic noise that lulled me into a false sense of security.
But despite the weather, I could only think about what had just happened. Claire, my sister, had completely rocked my world, and I had lost a part of myself to her. Even now, as I helped her with her coat and faced the raging storm, I couldn’t quite meet her eyes. My heart was still racing with a mix of guilt, confusion, and satisfaction that left me reeling.
“Looks like we will have to spend the weekend here; how fun,” she said, biting her lip as she dressed.
