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Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 01

By: Rob_mDear



Book 02 Chapter 01: Mouse Hole

A note to my readers: 

I know that one of the keys to successful erotic stories is the rampant and unrestrained inclusion of sex, sex, sex, everywhere, and without limits. There is sex in this first chapter, but not as much as the previous chapters. There's a lot more story. Mouse fans will like that part, the story, but you have to be patient, and you have to be invested in Mouse.

If you are looking for something more immediately arousing, simply put this aside until later, when you will be better able to enjoy it.

Oh, and lest I forget. If you do like my writing, please add me to your favorites, and vote for the stories. It's a way to attract more readers, so other people will enjoy my work, which is what I live for. I don't write for myself (well, I do, in a way, of course). I write so that people will read it, otherwise it's all wasted effort.

<8 Words

Michael was in a state of mild shock. His little sister, whom he both teasingly and affectionately called Mouse, was intelligent, imaginative and energetic. She expelled ideas like other people expelled breaths, and she turned many of them into something substantive. She created clothing, cartoons, artworks and, apparently, stories and poems. Private, secret, sinful stories and poems.

He'd known that his sister had long enjoyed various incest fantasies, mostly about him, to his own lasting pleasure. She had also let on that she had strong fantasies about being with their father, but she presented them with a combination of glassy eyed lust and a cold, hard realism. It could never happen, she had said. Her relationship with her father was too special to her, and, in the end, surrendering to her passions would hurt them both, and her father would never hurt her, ever.

Michael looked down at his own cock under the desk. It was softening now, flopped against his thigh. It glistened with his own cum and his sister's love. He could imagine her beautiful face there, still. He listened to the sound of the shower running down the hall as the pleasant image faded.

Michael looked again at the words on the computer screen. It was a story, written by Mouse, about Mouse. At least, Michael hoped it was a story.

"I watched Tammy frantically kissing Daddy, as Lori nibbled playfully on his ear. Donna licked and teased Daddy's left nipple. He held her head there with one hand entangled in her fire red hair, occasionally slipping it gently down to caress her freckled shoulder, while his other hand massaged Tammy's large, pliant breast. Lily stood off to the side, shifting from foot to foot, quietly watching with a look of pained, un-sated lust on her face.

"Meanwhile, I was riding Daddy's cock like it was the last cock on earth, making whorish, but unrecognizable squeals every time I lowered myself down onto his full, exquisite length. I glared at the blindfold over his eyes, wishing desperately that it would fall away and reveal my presence to him, letting him know that it was his own, sweet little girl willingly riding his cock like a complete, unrestrained, and gloriously happy slut.

"We, or I should say Tammy, Lori, Donna and Lily, had seduced Daddy so easily. I had thought that he would hold out longer, that my daddy, of all of our daddies, would resist at least some, although I couldn't blame him for giving in as easily as they all had.

"We were five very hot young co-eds, home for the summer and on the prowl for something wickedly sinful to do with all of our free time. The four that had seduced him did so shamelessly and irresistibly by our pool, with giggles, and wet t-shirts, and 'come fuck me' little girl looks. It didn't take long for them to get him upstairs, get the blindfold onto him, strip him naked, and start working on every part of his body with their hot little mouths and hands.

"The conspiracy, the formula for it all, had been my idea. We'd already done it to each of their fathers. I was the last, and the luckiest.

"Day after day we took turns, as opportunity allowed. We had to get rid of the moms, first, and any siblings. 

"Four of us would seduce the fifth's father, always blindfolding him as soon as we could. Once things got far enough along, one girl would jump out, and his own daughter would jump in to take her place, unknown to him, first to lick and suck his cock, and then to have him fuck her wildly, in whatever position she'd chosen, maneuvered there with the help of the other girls. 

"Tammy had taken it doggy style, Lori and Donna with their daddies on top and firmly in control. Lori's dad had been slow and gentle, just like Lori herself, while Donna's daddy had hammered her mercilessly, like a soldier just returned from years away at war. Lily had lain on her daddy backwards, with her father harshly squeezing her tits the whole time as she moaned and shrieked straight into his ear.

"Me, I liked it this way, on top, in control, and enjoying the sight of my friends enjoying him, and vice versa. But mostly, I wanted to see his face as I made him, my dear, sweet daddy, come inside me.

"This way, we had all finally gotten what we desperately wanted, and had talked about ceaselessly for years. We'd all gotten to fuck our daddies.

"I watched Tammy forcing her big tit into Daddy's mouth, as Donna moved from kissing Daddy's nipple to kissing Tammy with her own usual flavor of boundless lust, reaching out to her with a wet, gleeful tongue. Tammy, despite her own frequent protests of disinterest in other girls, responded just as gleefully to the offer of a lesbian kiss.

"I kept riding Daddy's cock with unending, whorish energy, and pride. I was the luckiest. I knew how jealous the other girls were. I could see it on their faces, as soon as I'd entered the room. My own dear daddy's sweet, sweet cock was without question the longest, and thickest, of all of our daddies.

"Then came the hardest part. I am not a quiet lay. I am a truly dirty whore, and proud of it. I like to say what I feel. I like my lover to know what I'm thinking and feeling. I desperately wanted to do it, to tell Daddy how wondrous his cock felt, and what he was doing to his whorish little girl. I wanted to beg him to come inside me.

"I had to bite down hard on my lower lip, to keep all of our secrets safe as I once again lowered myself smoothly, easily, and fabulously onto Daddy's giant cock."

Michael stopped reading as he heard the bathroom door open. Mouse was coming out.

He quickly closed the document window, then relaxed as he realized that Mouse had turned the other way, into her bedroom. He scanned the files, looking at the selection of other titles, looking for other stories that would teach him about his little sister's deepest, darkest desires, things he had never known before this trip to visit her.

<8 Communications

Two days earlier Michael had been sitting behind his office desk, glaring at his monitor. A swarm of e-mails taunted him from his in box. An entire morning of meetings and unexpected problems had stretched into the afternoon. Now he was left with a few scant hours to catch up on a whole day of questions and requests and pleas from his subordinates. 

The list of unopened e-mails covered his screen, continuing who knew how much further down. He imagined he could actually feel them pooling on his lap and feet. He scanned the subject lines quickly, trying to pick out the important ones. One from Mouse jumped out at him. It had an attachment.

Damn it, he thought. He'd warned his sister before, don't send that stuff to his account at work. That meant it was out there in the company network, where people could see. Not likely, even company e-mail was considered private, but they could. He forwarded it to his home account, ready to delete this copy, when he couldn't resist opening it for a quick peek.

It was what he had expected, and more, another one of Mouse's funny, teasing cartoons. He had a whole collection by now. They all featured a sexy, female mouse, often accompanied by a cock nearly twice the mouse's size – his, he had always assumed. 

This one comically showed a side view of a man's hairy stomach, balls and thighs, with the dick sticking out erect across the page, as if viewed close up. The cock had a noticeable upward bend just like his. The hairy stomach and legs were his, too, sadly. Her signature cartoon mouse was there, clinging beneath the prick, hanging on for dear life with both arms and legs, while dexterously planting a wet kiss just under the base of the cock head. 

In keeping with her style, the only words on the page were "Squeak!" and "Smooch!". Michael grinned at it in spite of himself.

Michael's door opened. His secretary coasted into his office abruptly, startling him. He quickly, and he hoped not too guiltily, whipped the computer mouse across his desk to hit the close box on the image window. She dropped some papers on his desk while giving him a small smile. She did that a lot, and he liked it, so returning the smile came naturally, easily hiding his embarrassment. 

As quickly as she came, she left, closing the door behind her. She had never even come close to seeing his screen. He listened to the door click shut, leaving him staring at its blank gray paint, a simple mural of pure boredom on a nondescript door that now separated the two of them. Another woman he wasn't allowed to pursue, he thought to himself. His world seemed full of them.

He picked up the phone to call Mouse at work.

"Hey, kid," he said.

"Hey. Was'up?" she asked musically.

He paused a moment. This was going to be hard. He should have waited until tonight, when he had more time and privacy, but it had been on his mind now for days. He needed to get it done, and suddenly this seemed like as good a time as any, despite his original intentions.

"I'm not sure if I should go," he said. He unconsciously clenched the phone in his hand, anticipating her reaction.

Now it was her turn to pause. There was a long silence.

"Why not?" she asked. He could hear her temper raging in the utter lack of emotion in her voice.

"Melanie's been asking me how you are doing."

"Excuse me?" 

Mouse's surprise was mild, but evident. He could almost hear her sit up straight.

"Several times," he added.

"That's silly. Why would she think that you know how I'm doing? You and I despise each other. Why ask you, why not just call me?"

"Exactly."

"You think she suspects? You still really think she saw something that day? She's testing you? Come on, if she'd seen something, we'd know by now."

"I don't know what she saw. Maybe nothing, I don't know, but I'm sure she suspects. She was all ears and eyes at dinner that last night, and ever since. She was a little too cool when she almost caught us kissing the night before. She must have seen something. And she asks a lot of leading questions now, then smirks when I freeze up. I don't know. Maybe it's nothing. It's just a feeling."

"Melanie wouldn't smirk if she thought you were fucking your sister, Michael."

It took a moment for that to settle into his thoughts properly.

"So you don't think you should come?" Mouse asked, seasoning the question with just a tiny bit of a disappointed little girl whine.

"I don't know. I just don't know."

"I like the idea of her thinking something might be going on," Mouse offered from deeper in her throat.

"Mouse!"

"Let's just tell her."

"Mouse!"

"Come on, imagine the look on her face. Imagine the squeals she'd make if she knew her little brother was delightfully fucking her little sister."

"Mouse, stop it."

"Okay, all right. But I like the idea that she suspects. It makes it more... dangerous. More secret. More intense."

Michael thought there was a touch of a growl to that last word. He felt his body react to it. He resented and enjoyed the power she had over him. In just this short time she'd moved him from feeling exhausted and broken to randy and virile.

More importantly, she'd made her point. Faced with flat out telling Melanie what was going on, Michael thought, how could one little trip to visit Mouse hurt matters.

"Fine. It's probably too late to change my plans anyway." Michael surrendered easily, having known before he'd even started that he would. "I'll keep my eye on her. Maybe I'll just tell her the cold war is thawing a bit."

"Don't you dare! I like having her think we hate each other. I want our relationship to stay just the way it's always been... to them."

Michael sighed in resignation. He did that a lot, he realized. Mouse always won. She always had, and always would. Before they had started this affair, she had always simply outfought and outlasted him. Now he gave in quickly because he desperately wanted to keep her happy. To the victor goes the spoils, he thought. The best he could hope for with Mouse, he'd found, was to be the spoils.

"Okay, I'll finish the arrangements. It's a business trip anyway. She can't imagine that I've arranged it just so I can see you. As far as she knows, it's just a coincidence that it's in Chicago."

"I can't wait."

"I'll have to work a lot the first few days, by the way," he said, changing the subject. "I really do have work to do there, I've discovered. I've even figured out how to extend the trip. I can stay over the weekend, so we'll have a lot more time together."

"What about Melanie?"

"I'll claim it saved the company money by flying on Sunday. If she dares to ask, I'll say that as V.P. of operations I have to set a good example. It's not remotely true. Executives are actually expected to waste money like water and then lay people off to make up for it, but she'll never know."

"I love it when you put down our big sister. It makes me all hot," Mouse joked in a theatrically husky voice.

"Everything makes you hot," he said, then caught himself, realizing someone might hear. He was too paranoid, he told himself. The door was closed. He didn't think his voice travelled clearly beyond it, but he wasn't entirely sure. 

It would be nice to see his sister in Chicago, where no one knew him. He could relax more. Let her worry about being seen or heard by her friends and acquaintances for a change. Out there he could be care free.

Who was he kidding, he thought to himself.

"Gotta go." Mouse cut in. "They're banging on my door for sketches, and I'm way late. Love you. I'm going to make this weekend special."

"Same."

"No one's listening, silly," Mouse scolded.

"Yeah, okay, bye."

"Bye," she said, laughing at him, and hung up.

*** 

Mouse stared at the phone, wearing a smile soured with a touch of a grimace, then put it down on her desk. She wished he would lighten up. No one was going to figure things out that easily, that quickly. It had only been two months since she'd been home to visit and it all had just sort of happened, finally. She smiled at the memory. 

But he was so afraid of getting caught. It was adorable.

<8 Dreams

Mouse rolled over in a fitful sleep, sweating, kicking her cotton sheets aside in the heat of the night.

She stood hand in hand under the hot sun with Michael, beside a wide pavilion on a broad grass field. He looked scrumptious in a black tuxedo, with just a splash of red from a cummerbund and a silk handkerchief tucked halfway into a breast pocket. Mouse squeezed his hand firmly, knowing he would squeeze hers back. She felt so small beside him, with her own petite hand so tiny and comfortable in his large, engulfing mitt.

Mouse's own gown was lovely, a princess's wedding gown, all white silk and lace and ruffles, flowing about her, fluttering here and there in the strong summer gusts, making her a single bright beacon amidst the crowd of smiling, colorfully dressed onlookers.

Mouse leaned her head against her brother's strong arm, as the best man offered a glowing toast to the future bride and groom, while her own father beamed happily at her.

The people were all gone, everyone but Michael. Mouse was now on her back on cool the grass, staring up at a painfully blue sky, with Michael's head buried under her dress, between her legs. A few small, lonely clouds drifted along, like lost, careless lambs in a field of blue.

Michael's tongue made a quick circle around the large button of Mouse's clit. She giggled for him, then scolded herself. She hated giggling during sex. Fucking was too serious, too intense, for giggling, although she still seemed to do it often enough. She moved the soles of her feet within her wide gown, tracing a path along the back of Michael's legs and ass, then up his back, then further still until they were behind his neck. She curled her toes, and the soles of her feet, then pressed them against the back of Michael's neck and head, forcing him firmly into her cunt.

Michael responded enthusiastically to the unspoken command, sucking hard on her clitoris, pressing it with his tongue, while touching the area around it with the edges of his teeth, threatening to bite her. Now Mouse had to giggle, as she thrust her hips up into him, pinning him in a vice, threatening to crush him between her pelvic bone and legs.

"Michael, you sweet, nasty boy. Lick it. Lick your sister bride's sweet cunt, Michael."

Michael obeyed her commands, hungrily slavering over her cunt.

"That's, right, Big Brother. Get me all ready to fuck you. Get me ready for our first, hot married fuck."

That pushed Michael quickly over the edge. In moments his strength had overpowered little Mona, as he bulled his way up from between her legs and into her arms. His head had appeared from within her dress like a god of the sea rising from the waves. In a moment he was inside Mouse, ravaging her with a godlike lust. 

Michael could be so gentle with her, so careful with his huge frame and her own strong but slight build. But not this time, and Mouse didn't want him to be gentle. Mouse felt his huge cock spreading her, making her feel as if her whole body had to expand to be able to take him. She felt herself get wetter with each thrust.

Mouse clenched her eyes shut as she screamed hysterically at the sky, almost frightening the clouds away with her cries.

"Oh, Michael, that's it. Fuck me. I need to be fucked. I need to be fucked."

"Yes, you do, little whore. Your brother has to fuck you hard, and when I'm done I'll be your loving husband, forever. And you'll be my whore, forever."

Mouse opened her eyes as Michael gave her one deliciously deep, long thrust. The guests had returned. They stood around Michael and Mouse in a wide circle, politely applauding with small, pleasant smiles for the new bride and groom, as Michael forced Mouse down into the grass. 

Everyone smiled and applauded except Melanie, ever the matronly big sister. She stood ramrod straight, stiff, with a complete lack of expression on a face cast in stone. Every muscle and sinew in her face held itself taught, as Melanie fought to make sure that her face didn't glower down at Mouse and Michael.

Mouse tried to look away, to stare at the pavilion, or the blue sky, or to close her eyes and delight in the feel of her brother's cock ripping at her itching, burning, slut bride's cunt. But she couldn't take her eyes off of big sister Melanie, as Mouse tossed and turned alone in her bed.

<8 Meetings

Mouse looked at herself in the mirror, wondering if she was pretty, or rather exactly how pretty she was. She knew she was sexy, but not necessarily beautiful. She always doubted that she was actually more than a bit attractive, she always questioned it, even though men were obviously drawn to her like bees to honey. Or rather, she thought in a burst of self honesty, like dock workers to a whore. No, she thought, that was too harsh, too.


Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 01



But she definitely wasn't honey.

She was cute, and she had sex appeal, but she didn't feel like anyone would ever call her more than simply pretty.

The nose was too big, of course. She hated it. If she turned her head just right, so that she was looking at it straight on, it wasn't too bad. It was... aquiline. Too long, but not too broad. A straight on view even disguised the slight bump in the middle of it, the bump she detested. She hated her profile, and refused to look at it again.

Her eyes were nice, she knew. She thought them too close together, but they were dark and sparkling, her best feature. Her complexion was darker than her fair skinned older brother and sister. Not quite olive, but darker. That wasn't bad. The shape of her face was sweet, slightly heart shaped with a broad high forehead over a triangular jaw. Another nice trait.

Her mouth was too small, her lips too thin. They were actually full in proportion to her mouth, but the whole package was just too tiny. She pulled her lips back to smile. That was nice, at least. Her smile shined brightly. She was well aware of the pleasing effect it had on people, and used it frequently to her advantage. 

She had a slight overbite. The front two teeth were a bit too large, and the rest were too small, just like a mouse's. She had little mouse teeth in a tiny mouse mouth in a tiny mouse face. 

Her dark, slightly curling hair framed her small face, her face framed her itsy bitsy features, and the whole effect made her look frustratingly like a child.

And her body, too, she thought, her body was like a child's. Her body was great, she knew. Sexy. She turned slightly to admire the pouting curve of her breasts beneath the tight top, floating above the flat, narrow lines of her waist. They were definitely not the breasts of a child. They were small, yes, but large in proportion to her frame, and well formed. Her firm nipples always poked out enticingly, sometimes to her embarrassment, but more often as an obvious temptation for men. She knew Michael had always loved them. It was the one thing she'd always caught him staring at.

She kept her body toned and athletic, a dancer's body, or a gymnast's, with slightly broad, muscular shoulders, and hips too wide by a pinky's width. She hated her hips, and the way her butt stuck out like a bubble. She knew it was nice, attractive to men, but she disparagingly thought it too large, herself. Still, when she moved it right, especially when she danced, men could never take their eyes off of it.

Her stomach was flat and muscled. Her legs were strong, if a bit thin, but muscular and shapely, hinting at a fragile power within them.

Still, she disliked her body. She was so tiny, so petite. She stood just five feet and a bit, while the rest of her family was graced with towering height, her brother standing over six feet, her older sister just under. Even when Mouse stood amidst average sized women, she felt tiny, like a child. It was as if she had a toy body, as if she were a toy woman meant only for boys to play with, not for men.

With a slight sigh, Mouse halted her self-flaggelation and set about applying makeup, forced into working with what she had. To start with, she was going to cut down on the little girl look. The curls had to go. She got out her straightener.

* * *

The Thursday workday passed with the slow agony of a high school math class. Mona kept glancing at the clock, like a student waiting for the bell to ring. She was killing time until just enough of the afternoon passed, late enough to use an excuse to bug out early and run to meet Michael. He'd said he'd be done by three or four. She gave herself an hour to drive out of the city to his company's warehouse in the suburbs, hoping to be there the moment he was free.

He called to say he was running late, that he was overwhelmed. There was more work to do there, real work, than he'd ever expected from a fabricated business trip. Mouse changed her own plan and waited all the way until half past four, when she couldn't stand it anymore.

The drive on I-55 was further agony, aggravated by traffic that she had expected to avoid by leaving earlier. Mouse couldn't believe how hungry she was to see Michael. The months had passed like years, the day like a month, and now this final hour like a day. He had better be ready, the bastard, she thought. 

She'd gone two months without sex, without letting another man touch her, waiting for him. They teased and played, tormenting each other by phone and Internet, but it was singularly unfulfilling, like a bite to eat when you're thirsty instead, or a drink of water when you're craving rare meat. 

Mouse was a little better dressed than usual for work that day, but not as well or as enticingly as she knew Michael would be expecting, she was sure. She was purposely getting things off to a slow start. Build to a climax, she had planned, just like sex.

She wore tight stirrup pants that hugged her skin from ankles to waist. She loved that effect, because it implied her naked form without exposing any flesh, sort of the best of both worlds, the "covered slut" look. Over this she wore a strapless red tunic top. At the bottom it hung down just below her butt, hinting that if she hadn't also been wearing the stirrup pants, she would be exposed to the world, and an easy lay. 

At the top, the tunic was a tube top, hugging the shape of her breasts tightly, and not-so-subtley letting her nipples stand out prominently. A wide silver belt, positioned high up at her sternum, kept it all in place while lifting and accentuating her breasts. At work she had also worn a simple, open, silk blouse over her shoulders, just to cover most of the bared skin, and to hide her embarrassingly protruding nipples. She also wore flats at work, but switched to red stiletto heels as quickly as she could afterward. At work she had needed to appear less of a slut, but now the gloves were off.

For big brother Michael, slut was good. Slut was great. She hoped the combined effect was perfect.

A star pendant on a thick silver chain hung enticingly down into the space between her breasts, almost out of sight, tempting any voyeur to lean in for a closer look. She'd learned that trick from her big sister Melanie. But Melanie had the bust to really pull it off, Mona thought to herself, with much deeper cleavage. 

The whole ensemble was finished with a pair of long, shiny earrings that dangled almost to her shoulders, and glossy please-kiss-me lipstick to add sparkle to her face and draw his eyes to her lips.

She was ready for him.

When she arrived at the shabby, windowless building it was close to six o'clock. There was no receptionist at the desk. She brazenly pushed through the double swinging doors into the expanse of the busy warehouse. Michael was right there, in the middle of a confused dance of men and forklifts, all moving briskly too and fro, presumably with a purpose, like bees in a hive. 

Michael stood calmly in the center of the chaos. He was out of place amidst the active blue-collar workers, wearing a well trimmed charcoal suit and tie. She rarely saw him dressed that way. She admired the look on him. He radiated power.

It was very sexy.

He wore a blue tooth device in his ear. With it he was talking with authority into thin air, giving orders to someone somewhere, while his gaze stared off into space, or darted around the room, overseeing his platoon of workers. The effect on Mouse was electric. He looked so masculine, so powerful and so mature. He looked older than she usually considered him, so much more like a man than the very young man she'd grown up with.

He noticed her then, and smiled at her. That sent another jolt through her, the way his stern face filled with a smile at the sight of her. She felt the warmth rising in her cheeks, almost a blush, as the smiled bolted from him to her, connecting them, and then exploded across her own face.

He came to her immediately, covering the distance between them with long, commanding strides, like a battleship plowing through an ocean, locked irrepressibly on its target. 

"Hey, big brother," she said sweetly in greeting. As soon as he was in reach, she put her hand up behind his neck and pulled herself up on tip toes. She planted a delicate, sisterly kiss on his neck, just below the jaw line, then dropped immediately back down. She admired the small imprint of her lips that the lipstick left there. She'd put her mark on him.

As soon as her heels touched the ground, she popped back up to kiss him again on the chin, this time devilishly, discretely letting her tongue pop out between her lips, like a snake's. It brushed against a working day's growth of stubble that scratched her tongue delightfully.

She dropped back down a second time, relishing the blush rising in his face, and the power it showed she had over him. Big, powerful executive, indeed, she thought.

Michael glanced around sheepishly. "You shouldn't be in here, Mona." He'd used her given name, not her pet name, she noticed. Very formal, very professional, and very deliberately far from sexual.

"I thought you were the V.P. Who's going to punish you?"

He grimaced in begrudging concession. Still, he put his strong hand on her tiny shoulder to guide her firmly toward the door. Looking behind him, he shouted across the room in a well modulated voice of authority.

"I'm calling it quits, Jeff. Keep them moving, get that all sorted out just like we discussed, and I'll check on it in the morning."

A serious man in working clothes nodded to him from across the huge room, unhappily it seemed to Mouse, then the man quickly lost interest, turning his attention to some mistake by the workers, barking orders, wading into the problem. Michael scanned the room once more, then stepped out with one hand on Mouse's farthest shoulder in a feather embrace. She easily slipped her own arm around his waist and tickled his belly with the other.

"You're impossible," he said to her.

"But I'm so sweet," she said musically, laughing. "And you're strong, and very, very sexy."

Michael instinctively looked around the reception area. 

"No one can hear," Mouse scolded in address to his unspoken fear. "And I'm just your little sister. We're close, didn't you tell them?" This last was said with an almost audible wink in her voice as they walked through the parking lot.

"We can take your car," he said stoically, still playing the executive in control. "I had Jeff pick me up this morning, and left my rental at the hotel."

"Convenient," she said. She reluctantly released him to get behind the wheel.

"Where are we going for dinner?" he asked as he got in. "I'm starved. Hard day."

He seemed uptight, maybe from the very long day of travel and work. He hadn't simply blown the whole day off, like she had.

"Me, too," she lied. "I googled some places. It's a bit of a crap shoot, but I don't really care about the food. I'm into the company." She flashed him another coy smile.

With that she pulled out and into the parade of all the other cars escaping from the workday world and into the delights of Thursday's nearly weekend nightlife.

* * *

He sat across from her. She admired him in his tailored suit, sitting upright with an air of professional maturity. It seemed incongruous to her. He looked so out of place. She glanced around, noting the other men, of all ages, dressed like him, looking exactly like him. So why was he out of place?

Because he was her brother, she thought. He was the brother that teased and scolded her. He was the brother that she teased and tormented in revenge. They fought, they bickered. They hated each other. And this was Chicago, this was her new home away from home. This was where she had escaped to. 

He didn't belong here. He didn't fit. This was her world, her place to be Mona instead of Mouse, her place to live as the complete, final version of herself that she'd matured into. This was home for the true Mona she'd eventually created.

Michael seemed so comfortable, so at ease here in the restaurant. It bugged her. The change, once they'd left the warehouse, was striking. She looked around herself for the third time, looking for familiar faces. She didn't know why she kept doing it, why she cared. She forced her eyes back to the menu. Michael was looking at her.

"You're nervous," he said with a barely concealed smile, lowering his eyes down to his own menu. "You're actually nervous."

"I am not," she snapped, realizing only then that she was. He wasn't the only one whose attitude had changed abruptly. "I just haven't really thought out how I'm going to handle you here. What my story is."

"What are the choices?" he asked with interest, knowing full well what they were. They'd discussed this all repeatedly before he came.

"The choices are meat or fish, or pasta, from what I see," she answered. She could feel him raise his eyes to look at her. She kept hers firmly focused on the menu. "I think I'll have fish. The halibut," she added. Michael thankfully took the hint, saying no more on the subject.

She could introduce him as her brother. Then they'd have to behave in public, which would bottle them up. That in turn would make their intimate, private time together more erotic, as long as her neighbors didn't hear the racket she'd inevitably make. Sooner or later she'd say something damning, she was sure. 

Or she could introduce him as a boyfriend, and they could flirt and touch in public. That by itself would be intensely erotic, knowing they were demonstrating their incestuous longings in front of other people, even if no one knew what they were witnessing, that Michael and Mouse were closely related.

What was she doing, she asked herself. What was going on? This had been so easy back home, so obvious. He had been nervous and worried and guilty, and she'd brushed it aside then, easily, explaining it away in a few conversations with him. And now, here she was, back home, her home, her new home, and it didn't all fit so easily. He didn't fit, not here.

It struck her how drastic and silly the change was. In the warehouse, she was the little pest, the dirty flirt. It came easily. That was part of his world, out of hers, and it was easy to be carefree there. But once they'd left the warehouse they'd reentered her world, her turf, and things suddenly became difficult.

This was absurd, she thought angrily. Time to act like Mouse. Or Mona, she corrected herself.

"Are you going to fire any of your guys for staring at my tits?" she asked offhandedly, trying to get a rise out of him.

"Excuse me?" he responded, looking up from his menu. 

Perfect.

"I asked if you are going to fire any of those dirty perverts at the warehouse for staring at your sister's beautiful tits." She held her menu aside and thrust her chest out theatrically, wearing a wide, tight-lipped smile.

Michael looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening, or watching. They weren't.

"I hadn't noticed."

"Oh, come on, Michael. A hot babe like me barges in, dressed to fuck, amidst a warehouse full of sweaty, masculine he-men, and you think they didn't notice?"

"They'd notice, sure, but not much more. They had work to do, I'm the boss, and you're my kid sister."

"Did you tell them that? Did you tell them I'm your baby sister?"

"No" he said, trying to conceal his discomfort.

Two points for Mouse, she thought, considering her wine choices.

"I like your hair," he commented. "I like it straight like that. It makes you look older. It's sexy."

Two more points for Mouse, she thought. I'm just racking them up.

"Mona! Hey, what are you doing out here?" the sing song voice came from behind her. Oh, shit, Mona thought. This isn't happening. Not yet.

Alicia walked up to their table, pulling a date in tow with her fingers. She beamed a silent "hello" smile at Mona, and then at Michael. She gave him a subtle once over, too, letting their eye contact linger a moment before turning back to Mona.

"If I knew you were coming out my way, we could have double dated. This is John. John, this is Mona, we know each other from an old job. An old, lousy job," she said laughing. John smiled in greeting, clearly uncomfortable. First date, or second, Mouse guessed.

"Aren't they all," John joked.

They all chuckled appropriately. Then it was Mouse's turn. "This is Michael. He's... from my home town. He's in Chicago on business for a couple of days. His office is near here."

"Oh," Alicia said knowingly, not really knowing anything. "That's convenient." The implication hung in the air. Mouse ignored it.

"Yeah, we thought we'd catch up on old times, he could fill me in about home."

"You were just there a few months ago, weren't you?" Alicia asked, innocently enough.

"Yeah, but only for a short stay, family obligations kinda stuff. I didn't really get to see anyone outside of family," she explained. She felt her ears burning at the intricacy of the lie behind the truth. She fought back the blush she felt rising in her face. What was she doing today?

"So, are you..." Alicia started, then interrupted herself. "Oh, John, I think our table's ready," she said hurriedlly. She smiled broadly at Michael and Mona and waved goodbye by wiggling the fingers on one hand. "Well," she said, backing up reluctantly, "if we get a chance, maybe we can all get together this weekend. It would be fun." 

With that, she turned to lead John away again by the hand.

As their backs receded into the forest of tables and diners, Mouse buried her face in her hands, then peaked out at Michael between her fingers. He was grinning at her.

"You handled that well," he deadpanned. She wrinkled her lip into a quick snear in reply, then looked back down at her menu.

"So I'm neither boyfriend nor brother this trip. Nondescript visitor from out of town is my label, I guess," he stated flatly. 

Her eyes shot up to his. Now it was his turn to keep staring at the menu. He was hurt, she realized.

Shit, Mouse thought. They'd been together less than an hour, and she'd already hurt him again. She couldn't look at him. Instead she turned to look around the restaurant, as if there was anything interesting to see. She gathered her courage, and turned back to Michael.

"I'm sorry, I really am. Sorry, sorry, sorry. She just caught me way off guard. I was already nervous, still trying to figure out what I wanted, and bam, there she was, basically saying 'make up your mind, Mona, what's it going to be?' I panicked."

"Yes, you did," was Michael's toneless reply.

"Just like you at the warehouse, shit-head," she said.

Michael raised his eyes without raising his head, glaring at her from under his brow. They locked eyes for a moment, then Michael relaxed visibly, sat up straighter, looked away himself and sighed.

"This isn't going well," he pointed out.

"No, it's not."

"Look, I'm sorry" Michael said, seemingly eager to end the tension. "It's just been a long day, after a long flight, and a lot of high expectations. I'm being childish. We're both being childish."

She smiled weakly at him, then took a deep breath.

"Okay, starting over. What are the choices? Fish, meat or pasta. I'll have the halibut. No, no, I'll have salmon, definitely the salmon. Definitely the fish, at least. Or pasta." Mouse had rattled it all off quickly. She was grinning by the end. 

He laughed, and she was happy to see it.

* * *

Dinner was pleasant, but less exhilarating than either Michael or Mouse had imagined in their fantasies. Mouse was, as always, irrepressible, but Michael's fatigue and Mouse's mood kept them both subdued, so the moments of mutual entertainment came only in spurts. They actually spent a good part of the meal fighting like they always had. Neither would admit it, either, but the return to old times was refreshing and actually fun.




Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 01



After they'd finished eating, over coffee, Michael reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a small jewelry box. He nonchalantly set it on the table between them. Mouse's face brightened, but she eyed it, and him, warily.

"That's not an engagement ring, I hope," Mouse said mock seriously. "It's way too soon, I'm afraid. You haven't even introduced me to your parents."

They both laughed easily. Mouse reached eagerly for the box and picked it up. 

"Hell, jewelry is jewelry. I don't care what I have to do to earn it," she said, glancing at him suggestively. 

She opened the box to find a small necklace on a delicate silver chain. The pendant on the end was made of silver and white gold. It showed a silver crescent moon, with a small diamond star at the top tip. A tiny white gold mouse sat reclining against the inside arc of the moon, reading a book, much as her cartoon mouse had clung to Michael's arching manhood in her recent drawing. In fact, it was an exact, if publicly viewable, near copy of another cartoon Mouse had sent months ago, one of her first. The double entendre of mouse and moon, Mouse and Michael, was inescapable. Even the diamond star at the tip of the moon had its parallel for them, she thought.

"Oooooh, Michael. Michael, I love it! Where ever did you find it? It's beautiful, it's magic!" she cooed, holding it up in front of her to look at it closely.

Michael grinned broadly. "You really like it?"

Mouse rolled her eyes in reply. "And after I've been such a shit to you, today. I feel like crap. Thanks." She scowled theatrically, then quickly reignited her smile. She unclasped the necklace she was already wearing, dropped it into the jewelry box, and put this one on in its place.

"It cost a small fortune, I don't mind saying," Michael put in. "I had it custom made, by a friend who has a friend that makes jewelry."

"I can't believe you did this. Well, I can, I'm worth it, but I can't believe you were that thoughtful," she said, the sparkle in her eyes belying her words.

"Can't believe I was that thoughtful, or can't believe I was thinking about you?"

This made her smile all the more. It was better than any present he could bring.

"You're sweet," she said shyly, suddenly, inexplicably unable to look her brother in the eye. Then her eyes went wide. "And I feel like such a shit! I didn't get anything for you."

Michael looked down into his coffee.

"We'll think of something," he said through a smile. 

* * *

Later that evening, after dinner but before they left the restaurant, Mona headed off to the ladies room. To her horror, Alicia ambushed her there. Her nervous unease had already returned during the meal. With her friend there, confronting her, the anxiety heightened instantly, as if it had never diminished. Alicia focused right on the necklace.

"I saw him give it to you," she said with wide eyes. "I mean, I wasn't spying... exactly," she added slyly. "Well, I was, I'm trying to figure out if you two are a cute couple, if he's good for you." She leaned in closely to look at the pendant.  

She smiled. "Keep him. It's not my style, but it suits you, and any guy that flies out to see you and drops jewelry on you is a keeper. He looks like your type. Older, tall, bald. That's the kind of guy I always see you with. And he's got really warm eyes, like you. You like him, right? I mean... that way?"

Mouse felt she had been backed into the wall by the torrent of opinions and questions. She took a moment to compose herself. The "eyes like you" comment stuck in her thoughts. She was still unprepared, but this time, at least, she improvised well. Using the truth selectively always helped when improvising, she knew.

"He's sweet. A bit of a dork," Mona said distractedly, but finding the words easily. "Maybe a bit boring, but I like boring. I've got enough personality for both of us," she said, laughing.

"No kidding. Is he good in bed?"

"What makes you think I've slept with him?"

"Mona, come on, it's me, Alicia. You've slept with him, no question."

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I want this one to be special," she said, trying to imply that she hadn't, and knowing Alicia would never buy it. This was the one place she really didn't want this conversation to go. But Alicia wouldn't push it. And Michael was special, in that she was never, ever supposed to have slept with him.

Alicia eyed her for a moment, then accompanied her back without asking a second time. Both men were waiting at the front door, talking sports. Alicia looped her arm through John's, so Mouse felt obliged to do the same with Michael. 

As long as Alicia was here and intruding, Mouse figured she'd make use of her. She dug a digital camera out of her purse and held it out to Alicia.

"Would you do me a favor, Alicia? Could you take a picture of us? We don't see each other very often. And I never get to see him cleaned up all nice in a suit."

"Sure," Alicia agreed happily, taking the camera from Mouse. She took too long snapping too many photos, then handed the camera back.

"Gosh, Mona. I just realized, you two look like brother and sister," she said, turning to John. "Can you see it, in the eyes and the nose? And the cheeks?"

"I don't know," John said non-committally. "I mean, he's over six feet tall and she's five foot not-so-much, at best. And she's not nearly as bald as he is." 

Everyone laughed at the remark. Mouse used the distraction to beat a hasty retreat, dragging Michael away while saying her goodbyes, all before Alicia could ask if they wanted to join them.

Once they were safely in the car, Michael and Mouse both stared at each other with eyes wide, and then burst out laughing.

"Holy, shit!" Mouse declared.

"You said it, sister," Michael agreed.

"Sssssh," Mouse hissed. "Don't call me sister, they could be listening."

They both laughed some more as Mouse started the car. She pulled away, realizing that at this point "nervous" didn't begin to describe the feeling.

* * *

She pulled up to his hotel, in the drop off lane right at the door, not into a parking space.

"Here's your stop, sir," she said professionally.

Michael looked at her in disbelief. He didn't even say it. He figured it was a joke, and he didn't want to fall for it.

"I'm sorry Michael, I know we've been planning this for a month. I really, really want to come up. But I'm just... I just need time to think, you know? You're tired."

He started to protest, but she cut him off.

"You're tired, I'm tired, I'm a little whacky today. It's not you, it's me, but still. I just have to get things sorted out. Just one night. I promise, tomorrow will be special, I promise."

Michael was stunned. He was out of the car, already feeling her quick peck of a kiss fading. She was saying "the necklace is beautiful", and then she was driving off, all without him realizing it was happening. He kept expecting her to turn around and come back, laughing. She didn't. She pulled out and headed home. He trooped up to his room to pretend to himself to be watching TV until he fell asleep, thoroughly downcast.

She'd turned into a complete loon, Mouse was thinking. She'd turned into one of those wacky women she despised, the ones that don't know what they want, and want only what they can't have, until they can have it, and then they don't want it anymore. What was she doing?

She pulled over and considered going back. She almost did. But she really did have to think. She couldn't go back until she was sure she knew what she was doing, and why. He really did have warm eyes, she thought, just like Alicia had said. She couldn't go back until she was sure she wouldn't end up hurting him again.

<8 Penance

Mouse lay on her bed, trying to scream herself to climax. She had four fingers, slick with cum, frantically rammed deep inside herself, but they couldn't be Michael's cock, they couldn't get inside her anywhere near as deeply as he could. She had one hand, one tiny hand on her breast, pinching her nipple, but it felt nothing like his massive, powerful fingers and palm.

It had always been so easy. She'd done this thousands of times, for years and years. She imagined herself with her brother, and then brought herself easily to one, two, three orgasms or more. She could make it take a while, she'd take it slow, she'd work through one of her many intricate fantasies. He would touch her and kiss her, and she him, building, exploring, testing boundaries, crossing them, going further. And always, every time, Michael would make her come. Her brother, the simple image of her brother, could bring her to a complete and fulfilling orgasm every time.

She couldn't come.

He was right there, across town. She could have stayed with him. She was so stupid. She could have him now, he could be inside of her right now, she could kiss him, touch him, taste him, be with him. He could hold her, crush her, maul her, do whatever he wished. Anything he did would feel good. He could sit in the room and watch her, never laying a hand on her, and she knew she would come for him.

She couldn't come.

It was time to pull out the big guns. Mouse went to her walk-in closet, to the very back, to pull out the gown well wrapped in plastic. It was strapless, but otherwise too frilly and busy, made of a shimmering pastel green satin, with ruffles and crinkles and little tacked on fabric flowers and more. Mouse had had to make alterations to it every few years to make sure it still fit, but she looked every bit as childishly sexy and naively whorish as she had the first night she'd worn it, the only night she'd worn it in public, to her prom.

She pulled it on in a moment, then leaned into the back of the closet to pull out Michael the Fourth, one of several plastic affairs that she'd found that perfectly matched Michael's size and shape. This one used batteries.

Once on her back, in the dark, the fantasy played out as it usually did, as the night should have, Mouse thought. Her intended date had gotten sick (he hadn't). Her mother had called Michael to be an emergency date (she hadn't). He fiercely resisted (that, he would have) but gave in at the end (he never would have).

He showed up at her door wearing his best dark suit. She had just turned eighteen. He was twenty-nine then, far too old to be taking a teenage girl to her prom. He was also still single, and having a hard time meeting girls, even though Mouse thought he was the sexiest man alive. He still had a young man's physique. He played basketball and other sports a lot. Mouse rarely got to see him in a bathing suit, and hated that aspect of their lives, because she couldn't admire as much of his naked flesh as she wanted. Any chance of seeing him in the shower had long since been spoiled by her one, failed attempt.

The night went horribly, with each of them fighting tooth and nail at every turn, and her friends all consoling her about how awful it was that she had to come with her brother, who was a too old curmudgeon of a man none-the-less, and then he didn't even treat her well. Really he was, he was being a darling, but Mouse made it rough on him. Mouse started everything, then made it seem like his fault, just so he'd keep apologizing. It gave her a power over him.

But her friends, for all of their "you poor dear" comments about him, would have kept flirting with him like they always did. They'd act like they were going to save Mouse by seducing him, and taking him off of her hands. Their own dates would all get jealous, glaring impotently at Michael behind his back, or to his face. Mouse would have loved every moment.

Eventually, they would fight. A terse comment would turn into a simmering spat. The spat would turn into controlled anger. Anger would turn into cold, then hot, fury. They'd do battle, and she'd demand that he take her home early. He'd feel guilty then. He'd try to talk her into staying, even though it was the very last thing he wanted to do. She'd make him sweat, enjoying his pleas and his weak attempts at apologies, but in the end she'd make him take her out of there.

They'd keep fighting, and talking, and she'd tell him he couldn't take her home, because Mom would be furious at them both if they came home too early. So they would go somewhere to park, and to talk, which presumably meant to fight some more.

Seducing him then, that night, in that dress, would have been so easy, if she'd ever gotten the chance. His little sister would look at him with sad, lonely, questioning eyes. Her expression would ask him why was he doing this to her. Why didn't he care about her? She'd let one small tear run down her cheek, while bravely fighting to hold it back.

Eventually, in his guilt, he'd reach over to touch her temple, gently, tenderly. Mouse would rub her cheek ever so subtly against his hand. He'd leave it there. She'd close her eyes and rub it some more, then move to press her lips against his thumb. He wouldn't move, so she'd purse her lips into a kiss, one soft kiss. Then another, and another.

He'd freeze, of course. He'd have no idea what was happening, or how to deal with it. She'd take his hand, and bury her head in his shoulder. He'd hear her whimper, and put his arms around her, holding her close to console her. She could feel the warmth of his huge, strong hands on her bare shoulder, with the blazing heat of his chest against her face.

She could tip her head up then. She'd kiss his neck, gently, repeatedly, so lightly he wouldn't even be sure what was happening. Eventually he'd look down at her, and she'd hold his eyes with hers. With her eyes open, looking into his, she'd drift up, pushing their lips closer and closer. He'd freeze again. But it was what he wanted, too, what he'd always wanted, even if he didn't have the courage that she had.

Then they would kiss. In moments the passion would bubble up in both of them. He would hold her tightly, almost painfully, as he frantically pressed his lips against hers and she lost herself in him, surrendering to his mouth like the silly little girl she knew she was.

Mouse touched herself at the thought, but had to move the fantasy along. There was so much more to it. She'd thought it all out so carefully, envisioned every detail, but tonight, now, she was in a hurry.

She kissed him feverishly as he fucked her in the car. Both of them were still fully clothed, but she straddled him, with his cock inside her, and her dress flowing out over both of them. He had eagerly pulled the top of her dress down, exposing her tits, so she could feed them to him, one at a time, for her own enjoyment as well as his. He loved them, and took each one greedily into a wide, wet mouth, giving her untold waves of pleasure.

"That's it Michael. My little tittie's need to feel your hot mouth all over them. You've always wanted them, haven't you, you dirty boy. You've always stared at your little sister's titties, as soon as they started to grow, you started staring, and wanting a taste."

He would moan his reply into her, unable to release them, as his tongue pressed and twirled and raped her hard nipple.

"Suck my titties, Big Brother. Suck them hard, suck your baby sister's titties hard."

His cock felt so good. She wasn't a virgin, even then, but she'd certainly never had a cock like his. No one had a cock like his. Her brother's cock filled and reached inside her like no other. The bend, that wicked, delightful bend, touched and pressed spots in her that no one else ever had. At the same time, she could feel her clit rubbing against his skin, sending shivers through her.

"Oh, Michael. You're going to make me come. You're going to make your sweet little sister come. You took me to the prom, and now you're fucking me, fucking me to a sweet, fucking, prom slut orgasm."

Then he would release her tit to respond to her in his deep, serious voice, but with a tremble in it, because he wasn't in control. She'd never let him be in control.

"I love you, Mouse. Come for me. I want to be the one to make you come. Let your big brother make you come for him. Be my prom slut and come for me."

Mouse would grab his head by the hair... back then, he'd had hair... and push his head back to force her mouth hungrily against his.

This was it, this did it, this always did it. He kissed her, hard, and deeply and completely. He would forget everything but her mouth, while she gave herself to him totally and unreservedly. Meanwhile, she felt everything, his lips and teeth and tongue, the very slight gristle on his chin rubbing on hers, her nose pressing into his face, his hair in both of her hands. She felt his huge, marvelous palms, with fingers spread across her back, crushing her slight frame against his heavily starched shirt, with his silk tie gently pressing against one nipple.

And his cock, she felt his cock. More than anything, her brother Michael's cock filled and spread her. She was so tight, just a tight, innocent little girl at her prom, with a man, a huge, grown man of a brother, fucking her hard and deep, so that his cock felt like a great, hot spire of fleshy, living rock forcing its way up inside her. The orgasms would explode deep within and throughout her, tossing her about. She would frantically try to move, to thrash around, but her wonderful big brother would pin her in place, holding her to him, holding her tits against him and her mouth against his and her cunt firmly, harshly speared on his cock as she came for him, and he came into her.

The artificial cock, Michael the Fourth, was deep in Mouse now. One finger frantically rubbed at her clit, while the plastic cock wiggled and moved faster than even Michael ever could, desperately trying to reach all of the right spots, at the right times, at the right pace.

Mouse tried and tried, but it wasn't enough.

She couldn't come.

Mouse gave up in exhausted frustration, having brought herself almost to tears. She wiped her dripping fingers on the pillow, intending to punish herself by sleeping on the wet spot. She rolled over to stare vacantly at the clock. Three AM. She sat up, thinking she might call him, or just get dressed and drive over unannounced. She could apologize, and he would fuck her, and everything would be alright. He would make it alright.

She knew that was silly. They both had to work in just a few hours. Yet he was so close, and he would only be in Chicago for a while. In just over two days he'd be gone again.

Mouse fell to the bed again in frustration.

She was so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.



Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 02



The next day started similarly, with the same intentions, if different expectations. Mouse went through her routine, trying to look sexy. She had made up her mind that there was a reason for it today, and that she had better do a fantastic job, because she had to make amends. 

She started by wearing lingerie, a skimpy sheer baby doll, and then added layers on top of that. The lingerie had to be very skimpy, because she wasn't planning on wearing much over it. She chose a stylish top, a silver gray number with long sleeves but incongruously bare shoulders and a mostly open back, and a halter style strap that looped around her neck into a high collar. 

The extra touch of slut was added by a large keyhole opening between her breasts, not showing much, but offsetting that by exposing parts of her breasts that were not normally seen in polite company. She didn't wear a bra. 

The top was longish. It was only meant as a tunic, to be worn with something else on bottom. For work she wore a pair of tight jeans. But when she left to meet Michael, she took them off to put on the shortest denim mini skirt any woman had ever worn. For her, panties were usually optional, Mouse thought. Tonight they were forbidden.

She put on another pair of dangly silver earrings, and Michael's charming necklace. It felt cool and warm at the same time against her flesh. Today she applied bright red "blow job" lipstick. Since he had noticed, and had liked it enough to say so, she straightened her hair again. Look out, Michael, she thought. Mouse is coming.

She was a half an hour early to pick him up. She didn't mind appearing eager. It was part of the apology. This time there was a receptionist, so to her disappointment, and that of the floor workers, she was sure, she couldn't invade his space by wandering out onto the warehouse floor. She had to restrain herself, barely containing her impatience, in the reception area. 

He said hello to her politely, if a bit coldly, when he came out. They walked out together, conspicuously not touching. He slipped into her car.

He didn't say anything at first, so she figured she'd better get it started.

"Did you check out of your hotel?" she asked.

"Do I have a place to stay if I do?" he asked, without humor.

Shit, Mouse thought. He's pissed. And he has a right to be.

"Yes, of course." 

His eyebrows raised in an unspoken "oh, really, are you sure?"

"Yes. Definitely, yes." she repeated. "Look, I'm so sorry. I... I don't know what the deal was, I still haven't figured it out. My head's not on straight. I don't know why I freaked. I did it and it was wrong and it was cruel and I can't promise it won't happen again but I'm really, really sorry and I'll make it up to you, I promise. I promise."

The words came out so fast she couldn't stop them. They virtually pummeled Michael back in his seat. She felt a tear welling up as she finished. That forced her to make a concerted effort to control herself. She was not going to cry in front of him, for him. That was not going to happen. She sucked in a deep breath, then turned to face forward, exhaling the breath, and more. 

She couldn't believe she was this worked up. She hadn't felt this way since college.

"You don't want to leave, do you? For home, I mean?" she asked timorously, eyes locked on nothing beyond the windshield in front of her.

She saw a movement to her side. She felt Michael's hand brush her cheek. She closed her eyes, while shifting her head to nuzzle his hand.

"I really want to kiss you," he said, "but the receptionist is watching. Just drive. Let's go. Let's forget yesterday happened."

She turned to smile at him shyly, grateful that her worst fears had not come true. I won't blow this, she thought, as she pulled out to speed toward the highway that headed into the city, towards the heart of her own little world.

* * *

They drove most of the way in silence, holding hands. She wouldn't let his hand go.

Out of nowhere Michael asked a hard question.

"Are you seeing anyone, Mouse?" It came out almost inaudibly, and seemingly with disinterest.

She looked at him sharply, concerned. She could tell it took a concerted effort for him to get that out.

"What? No. You mean, like a guy? Other than you? Don't be silly, no. Why'd you think that?"

He was silent a moment. She answered her own question during the intermission.

"Oh. Yeah. Right. I'm nuts. Okay. No, I didn't go schizoid yesterday because I'm seeing some other guy and now you're in the way. I'd never, ever, ever do that to you. That would make me as bad as your bitch of an ex-wife," she finished with a touch of venom.

She paused. She was frightened into honesty by her own behavior the previous evening.

"Well, I guess it could, but I wouldn't do it the way she did," she corrected. "I don't know. I don't know what we're doing, or what we think we're doing, or where we're going, or what. This can't last forever. Can it?" 

She looked to him hopefully, wanting him to contradict her and make it all go away.

"You sound like me, when this all started, Mouse," Michael pointed out.

"Hmm? I suppose," she answered while still thinking. "'Oh, how the mighty have fallen'," she laughed, half heartedly. She squeezed his hand harder. "But it's not happening right now. I don't have an excuse, or an explanation, but I am not seeing another guy. I want to see you. I want to have you. Tonight I'm going to have you, and I'm going to make up for two months and one stupid day all in one too short night. Tonight."

Michael was silent, but squeezed her hand in response. They drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence, he lost in his thoughts, she in hers.

* * *

Dinner was short and sweet. There was very little small talk, no serious talk, and lots of flirting and hand holding and sly, sexual innuendoes. 

Mouse was still very self conscious, acting something like Michael by discretely looking to see if anyone was listening, or if anyone she knew was around. She still hadn't decided how to introduce him to her friends. For now, her plan was to simply avoid anyone that knew her, if she could. But at least Mouse was better at it. She came off as carefree, even if she wasn't. She projected confidence, while inside she worried endlessly. Above all she expressed a focused interest, a deep passion for Michael, even if she still had secret, distracting doubts.

When dinner was over, he asked to see the city nightlife. He hadn't done that sort of thing since before he was married, ten years ago, he said. Michael was clearly relieved, though, and excited when she suggested they head back to her apartment early instead. 

Before leaving the restaurant she asked a stranger, a woman, to take a picture of her with Michael. She was creating a small collection, a documentary of his visit. It was physical, undeniable proof of their relationship and their time together. Once that was done, she took his hand to lead him quickly away.

She attacked him in the elevator at her building. As soon as the doors closed, her arms snaked around his neck. She pulled herself up to drive her tongue past his lips, eagerly tasting him, boiling his blood in one quick moment. Instantly he was kissing her back, holding her tightly against him, allowing his hand to slide down the curve of her back to cup her ass while pulling her firmly against his swelling cock. She delighted in the sudden flood of combined sensations and emotions.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered in his ear.

The elevator door opened. She reluctantly broke free, grabbed his hand and seemingly tore him from the elevator toward her apartment. Her eyes smoked amidst a face clouded by a spreading, enveloping passion.

"I've never seen the Mouse Hole," Michael said lightly.

"You say it like it's a super hero's lair, like 'The Bat Cave' or 'The Fortress of Solitude'," she said in the same whimsical tone, while opening the bolt with her key. "The Mouse Hole," she said with grandeur, swinging open the door with a flourish.

"Do you have a super hero's costume under your every day clothes?" he asked.

"You know I do," she answered.

Once inside she offered him a glass of wine, which he readily accepted. He looked around while she clattered around, digging out the bottle and glasses. She eyed him as he studied her taste in decorations and music, looked at the furniture, looked out the windows. He even took a peak down the short hall, toward her bedroom. She came back balancing the bottle and glasses in both hands. She nodded toward where he had wandered. 

"In a hurry?" she said accusingly. "You'll see my secret lab soon enough, Dr. Snake."

"Ooooh, I get to be the villian?" he asked, returning to her den. He took the bottle from her and filled their glasses. "I never imagined myself in that role. It might be fun."

"You get to be evil, if that's what you mean," she said. Her face offered him a twinkle and a smile. She sat down on the sofa, looking him into a spot beside her. He sat there, eyes rolling over her, studying her body. She watched him with pleasure, enjoying the idea that he was openly admiring her, that she was having that effect on him. 

She watched in tight suspense as he allowed one hand to reach forward, slowly, as one finger floated inside the keyhole opening in her top, then gently explored the bare skin exposed at the insides and undersides of her breasts. She closed her eyes, relishing the touch of his long worshipped hands. She arched her back, pushing her breasts more firmly against him. When he remained gentle and tender, she grew impatient. He was too shy, now, she had scared him too much, she thought. 

She took his hand in hers, eagerly moving it fully onto her breast. She pulled it hard against her, silently urging him, imploring him to handle her more firmly. She closed her eyes to surrender to the sensations. She let her mouth form a small, inviting "o", then waited for his tongue to find hers.

He knew what she wanted, he always knew, she thought. Then his tongue touched the inside of her breast instead, taking her by surprise, flicking and exploring the flesh there, snaking in to find the corner of her hardening nipple, tickling it with warm, wet strokes. She giggled with shocked elation, then let one hand glide to his head to pull his mouth more firmly into her chest.

"Naughty little boy, Michael. Licking your baby sister's titties," she teased. She closed her eyes while sucking in a deep breath through her teeth. "Kiss me, Michael, please," she commanded, letting it end as an agonized plea.

He quickly obeyed her orders, both reluctantly and eagerly moving his mouth up to hers. He left one hand to continue massaging a hard nipple. The double touches thrilled her. The two types of contact, kiss and caress, lips and nipple, warred with each other for her sole attention. 

Michael and Mouse kissed feverishly. He seemed to be trying his best to consume her, pushing her back, forcing his mouth over hers and into hers, letting it wander sloppily past her lips to her face. He didn't do that often, she thought. She liked the way he normally kissed, carefully, under control, exploring and probing her neatly with his lips. Yet she liked this, too, right now, a hungry rabid animal kiss that cared only for its own pleasure, not for hers, that hunted frantically about, out of control. That's what she wanted now, that's what gave her pleasure, to be his, to be his pleasure, to make him lose control. His mouth found her neck, forcing her high collar down to rake her flesh with teeth and tongue and saliva.

"Yes, Michael. I'll be a whore for you tonight," she breathed. "A dirty little sister whore," she continued, her voice rising to a squeak. "Like I should have been last night, like I'm supposed to be every night, like I want to be." 

His fingers were suddenly inside her. She didn't know how he had found the opening in her skirt so quickly, and from there how he had found the opening in her cunt so quickly, without searching or probing or fumbling. One instant they were kissing and she had been floating, lost in his touches, and then he was inside her.

She was wet and ready for him so soon, so quickly, that in moments she was bucking against his hand, trying to thrust her suddenly swollen clitoris against him, helping to drive his excitingly thick fingers further into her. Soon she was leaning slowly back, leaving only her hips for him, offering her open cunt to him, panting with passion, edging herself into heaven.

"Wait," she cried, her eyes snapping open. "Wait, Michael, wait."

He froze as if he'd been shot.

"Wait, wait." she said breathlessly, easing him off of her. "I need this to last, darling brother." She looked into his eyes so that he could see that the hunger was still there. 

"How'd you get in there so fast?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I have plans for you tonight, big plans. I can't let myself, I can't let you take me away from my plans," she said, still catching her breath. 

She kissed him quickly on the nose, then her mind was consumed by the sight of his mouth so close to hers. She lost focus so easily tonight, she thought, as she allowed herself one more angry kiss against his lips. When she pulled away it was achingly difficult. She slipped from his grasp. She stood up, taking a moment to pose seductively for him. His eyes marauded over her curves in silent, tantalizing rape. 

She took their wine glasses from the table. She moved them to her desk, in front of her computer.

"I have an Internet site I want you to visit," she announced, as if she were a flight attendant announcing their arrival at an airport.

"Excuse me?" Michael asked. The sudden change in focus was a like a cold blast of air.

"Come on, big brother. This will be fun, I promise. Give it a try," she said, patting the seat in front of the computer. Michael walked over. He looked down at her diminutive form, then dropped into the chair in confusion. She spun around herself to fall into his lap with giggle. 

She studied his face happily, kissed him again, and turned to the computer to study the screen. She reached over to grab the computer mouse, then selected a bookmark in the browser.

"Literotica.com," he read. "What's that? Porno?"

"Porno as it would be if intelligent women ran the Internet," Mouse explained like a lecturing professor.

"Dirty stories," he said bluntly.

"Erotic stories," she corrected. "Read this one."

"'Sister's Secret Dream'," he read. He looked sidelong at her, half grinning. "Sounds promising. Did you write this?"

"No, silly, there are thousands of them here. Tens of thousands. I picked this one specially for you, to start with, though. I think you'll like it." He leaned forward to kiss her. She felt his large hand on her breast again. She leaned backwards and snapped her head aside, dodging his kiss, but she let the hand stay where it was. She even moved her own thumb to lightly caress his, while his strong fingers made tight circles around her nipple. 

"Read," she ordered.

She watched his face as he read the story. She studied his eyes and cheeks and mouth. She kissed his forehead, flicked her tongue in his ear, nuzzled his neck. While he read it, she read him.

At one point he became so engrossed in the story that he stopped massaging her nipple. She used her hand to silently rebuke him, to get him started again. He looked over at her in meek apology. She just smiled back and told him to keep reading. Before he did, she smothered his mouth with another kiss. Then she remembered herself, and used her hands to forcibly turn his head back to the screen.

She followed along with him as he scrolled down and advanced the page. She'd read this story several times. It was hand picked from several of her favorites. When he reached a certain point, she slipped off of his lap and under the desk, to look up at him from between his legs like a dark eyed cherub. She smiled at him, then bit her lower lip as she promptly began to undo his belt.

"I promised you several times before that I would suck your amazing cock. Tonight you are going to learn, first hand, that your little sister is the absolute world's champion cock sucker, and you are going to spend the rest of your days begging her to do it over and over again." Her eyes and her voice were both fire as she said this, and she could see in his face that he believed her. "Keep reading," she said.

The buckle and zipper came undone easily, but there was another clasp to the pants that frustrated her. She struggled a while, knowing it was ruining both her mood and the whole effect. She finally gave up with a theatrically exasperated sigh. "Can you help me, big brother?" she asked in a pleading little girl voice. 

Without taking his eyes from the screen he quickly undid the snap, lifted his ass a bit from the chair, and allowed her to pull his pants down to his ankles. "Thank you, Michael, you're the best," she said, as if they were still kids, and then she lowered her face to press it hard against his cock.

She stayed there a while, her eyes closed, feeling the hard, smooth heat of it pressing into her cheek. She occasionally offered it a light kiss or two, but Mouse otherwise held herself in check, letting the passion build in her brother's mind before she let it explode in her mouth.

"Are you skipping ahead?" she asked. She imagined her disembodied voice floating up to him from beneath the desk.

"No," he answered.

"Liar," she accused. "Read it properly, or I'll know and I'll punish you. There may be a quiz later." She laughed.

Michael grunted in reply. He kept reading.

"Read out loud to me, Michael," she commanded.

He hesitated, so she bit him gently. She listened to him suck in a breath through clenched teeth. "Careful," she warned, "or mommy will send you to bed without her dinner." She slurped loudly, just for the effect, running her mouth along the length of his prick. There was another moment's pause as he enjoyed the sensation, then he began reading.

"Lisa couldn't believe what she was watching. She wanted to turn and run away, but she was riveted to the spot," he read. "Her own sister was holding their brother's cock in her hands, staring at it and clinging tightly to it like it was something alive that she'd caught and was afraid would get away. It was huge..."

Michael paused. Mouse used the interlude to run her mouth along the length of his shaft again. She'd intended to stop there, but couldn't. Now that she'd begun, she had to have more. With her sudden attentions, Michael lost his concentration. She could tell he was still reading, but had forgotten to continue out loud. She let him lose himself in the story, while she lost herself in the feel of his cock in her mouth.

"Read to me more," she begged eventually, again with her best little girl voice.

Michael hesitated again, as if he'd been so lost in the experience, in the story and the feel of her mouth, that he'd forgotten she was actually there. Good, Mouse thought. That's what I want. Lose yourself, forget who we are, forget you're with me, just have the most amazing orgasm you've ever experienced. And then, afterward, you can remember who shared it with you.

"The cock seemed to fill her completely, Lisa thought as she spied on them." Michael read. His voice had become deeper, huskier. "Jason drove his stiff prick into Kathy so violently, and their sister screamed so loudly, Lisa was sure it must be hurting her. But her sister's face, as tortured as it seemed, despite all its contortions, was still covered with a smile, a huge, beaming smile. She liked it, Lisa knew. Their brother obviously did, too, because he never slowed, he never stopped. He just kept giving it to her. Lisa touched herself..."

Michael's voice trailed off yet again as he became lost in the feel of Mouse's tongue. Mouse fluttered it over his cock head while squeezing the shaft rhythmically with her hand. She had spent her time so far searching for sensitive spots, learning what Michael liked and felt, and what he didn't. She was mastering his cock, concentrating only on pleasing him, getting her pleasure from the idea that she could be his ultimate pleasure.




Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 02



She watched with entranced glee as a bead of pre-cum formed on the tip, just like the diamond star on his gift to her, her moon-mouse pendant. She stayed away from it, letting it grow, stroking him with her hand and only letting herself kiss and lick the sides of his cock. When she could wait no longer, she tasted it happily with her tongue.

That's your brother's cum, the thought came to her.

The room was mostly silent. Mouse listened to the sounds made by her own mouth. She purposely made wet slurping noises as she ran both lips along the side of the shaft. She listened to the sudden silence as she stopped and instead surrounded his cock head with her lips, sucking hard. She relished the slight pop it made as she released it. 

She was gratified by occasional moans and short sharp breaths from above when she found a sweet spot, whenever she did anything that she wanted to remember to do again. Even the chair made an occasional creak, as if it jealously wanted to join in. Behind it all there was the occasional click of the computer mouse, as Michael, still reading, scrolled further ahead in the story.

Your brother's cock, came another intruding thought.

She explored him tirelessly. She started at the base, where his mass of pubic hair ended and the cock rose up, hairless but not quite smooth. Her lips felt the slight bumps of the veins along the sides as she travelled his length. She could feel it start to narrow, just a little, as she neared the head. There her tongue found the lip that marked the sudden change from shaft to head. The very tip of her tongue explored the crevasse there, taking that path around and back, side to side, like taking a pleasant stroll along a valley, again and again. She was pleased with the subdued moans that this particular hot, wet, touch drew from him.

You have to stop. The thought came unbidden, from somewhere inside her. It snapped at her like a whip.

She continued her journey, making love to his cock with her mouth.

You have to stop.

No, she flared. No, she loved this, she loved him, she thought. Her answer was cold and spiteful.

Not like this! it corrected, like a parent scolding a misbehaving child.

Yes, like this, she snarled back. She was intent on his cock, on sucking his cock. She loved him like this, she thought. She took his head hungrily into her mouth then, all the way to the base. She felt the sides of his cock spreading her lips as far as they would go, then farther still as he thickened further down his shaft. It stretched her mouth deliciously. She felt the cock head press against the back of her throat, then plunge beyond it.

He's your brother.

Yes, he is.

He's your brother, your flesh and blood.

Yes.

This is wrong. 

The thoughts wouldn't stop.

This is incest.

But I love it.

Slut. It's wrong. You're nothing but a slut.  You're nothing.

Self doubt stung her. She held the cock deep inside her mouth in defiance. Before she could counter or corral the thoughts, they continued.

Your father would be ashamed. He'd be repulsed. If he knew, if he saw, he'd turn away from you in disgust.

Tears began to well unexpectedly in Mouse's eyes. She partially released Michael's cock, letting it slip out a few inches.

Sucking you're brother's cock like a cheap whore. Imagine your father's face if he knew, if he saw.

The image appeared in her mind before she could fight it back. The guilt was overwhelming. 

She suddenly pulled away to try to let his cock fall from her mouth. As the base of his cock head reached her lips she tightened them abruptly, at the last instant catching the crevasse she had explored with her tongue. This time her lips interlocked with the lip of his cock head. Her tongue rested against the very tip, right where she'd tasted his cum. She tasted more.

She held him that way for one precious moment longer. Tears stung her eyes in punishment. She reluctantly opened her mouth wide to finally release him.

His hands were suddenly on her head, in her hair, gripping her violently. Before he could fall out, he yanked her head forward, driving his cock back in.

No! the thought came. She held her head back, her neck and shoulders tightening, trying to get away as he began to force her back down with a violent, quick rhythm. She brought her hands up to his groin and pushed away, trying to overpower him. His cock stiffened and jerked. She knew with a sudden panic what was happening. 

Not now!

Her mouth filled with cum, her brother's cum, hot, salty, syrupy, the blast slapping the roof of her mouth before gushing further, filling her. She held it in her mouth, trying not to swallow it, as he continued. He wouldn't release her. His cock continued to jerk, pumping out more and more cum, until she couldn't take any more.

She cried.

Her mouth was full of cock and cum. She opened her lips slightly, instinctively as she started to gag. Rivers of his cum flowed out the corners of her mouth, running down the sides of his cock, dripping onto her designer top and sticking to loose strands of her hair. The tears came faster now. She felt one drip down her cheek to join the cum on her chin.

She pushed him hard. She pulled herself away as hard as she could. He released her abruptly, and in that sudden loss of balance his cock left her, leaving only his seed in her mouth, everywhere in her mouth. Her brother's cock jerked again and the last drops of cum hit her in the face, mixing with her tears.

She stayed there, on her knees, for quite a while, not thinking, lost and tiny and alone in an overwhelming storm emotions. In time, she didn't know how long, her composure returned. Her eyes opened. 

She looked at his cock, now lying, thick and glistening, half erect, flopped against his hairy thigh. She studied it with an odd detachment, as if she had just awoken to find it there. She saw now all of the features she had explored with it in her mouth. She eyed the pale color and thick, sugary texture of his cum. She still held it, she realized, she still held his cum in her mouth. She moved it around there, playing it over her tongue, then swallowed it in two gulps.

She closed her eyes. She leaned forward to press her face against his bare thigh, opposite his cock. Her face was wet with tears and cum. She stayed there a moment, then surrendered to her desires again, switching to the other side, where his cock would press against her cheek. The cum was slick, so the shaft slipped frustratingly away, escaping her. 

She quickly grabbed it with one hand to hold it close. She moved it across her chin, then her cheek and nose. She planted a gentle kiss on its base, then flicked her tongue across it, gathering up more cum.

Finally, she sat back on her haunches, still holding it in her hand. She opened her eyes to look at it again.

My brother's magnificent cock, she thought. Magnificent cock. Brother's cock. Wicked cock. Forbidden cock.

Stopping her thoughts, avoiding her guilt, she vacantly climbed out from under the desk. Trying not to appear too hurried, she calmly picked up her glass of wine to take a sip. She set it back down. Ashamed to look at him, to look in his eyes or his face. Without a word she hastened away into the hall and into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her. 

Mouse stepped into the shower frantically, without undressing. The tears began to flow again, and more freely. She turned the water and shower head on, both, letting it catch her without preparation. The water was instantly cold, smacking her in the head and hair, immediately drenching her clothes. She stood up into its blast, letting it sting her face, feeling the water running down her chin, neck and breasts. She felt it mixing with his cum and her tears, washing both away. 

She was a mass of emotions. A raging, windswept sea. An angry fall day. A junk drawer. A pile of dirty laundry.

What was she doing?

She leaned on the wall of the shower to think, letting the water, now growing warmer, course in a river down her chest and back.

She did love him. She loved him. She loved having sex with him.

Say it right, she thought to herself.

She loved fucking him.

Say it.

She loved fucking her brother.

Her brother.

There was a knock on the door.

"You okay, Mouse?"

His voice thrummed through her like a song. The tears came faster. A sob welled in her throat, held down by her last remnants of composure.

"Did I do anything, did I hurt you? Are you okay?" he asked. She could picture him leaning gently on the door, his forehead pressed against it.

Always looking out for little sister. Looking out for me. And she was torturing him, constantly.

"I'm all right, Michael. I just..." she paused.

"I just felt overwhelmed," she continued, wrestling the emotion out of her voice. "Girl stuff. You know. All emotional and shit. I just, I just need a moment. Let me get cleaned up, and I'll be out."

Michael didn't answer her. She heard him walk away from the door, back down the hall. A loneliness filled her as she felt the distance between them grow. And then she knew. It wasn't clear, yet, she didn't understand, but she knew. The feelings took more substance, became more solid.

She wanted him, only him. She had known this, of course, or thought she did, but before now, before this weekend, it was only a game. She wanted him, for a while, for sex. It was just fun, it was just the only way she'd found to really get pleasure out of sex, to get the most pleasure out of sex. Now she knew it was more than a game.

Everything else was there, everything else had to be dealt with, had to be handled, had to be mastered. Guilt. Shame. Fear. Secrecy. It wasn't going to go away.

But she wanted her brother, desperately, as much as she could get for as long as she could have him.

She wanted only him.

* * *

While Mouse was running the water, doing whatever in the bathroom, Michael sat back down at the computer. For a while he explored the site himself, then realized that Mouse had other bookmarks and perused those instead. He read the titles and opening lines, and sometimes scrolled down to pick out bits of text or dialogue, to get the feel of the stories she liked. They were mostly incest, some lesbian and group sex, and some other things, something called "non-consensual sex". The incest she'd bookmarked was primarily brother-sister, but he did notice some sister-sister stories, and quite a few father-daughter episodes. Quite a few.

He decided to take his spying a bit further, and looked at the computer's desktop. His eye quickly went to a folder tantalizingly and humorously named "Mouse Droppings".

Inside he was stunned to find a collection of stories and poems, all apparently written by Mouse. Many of them included characters, in name at least, that paralleled their family. He was sorely tempted to read the stories about him, but kept drifting to the one's involving their sister Melanie, or Mouse with their father. There were a lot of those, too. 

He didn't have time to actually read anything. He wondered if he could sneak a peak later, or if there was a way that she would share these openly with him. She hadn't yet, and he felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over him for his spying.

He was ready to close the mess of windows he'd opened when a single, small file caught his eye, one enticingly titled "Clouded Thoughts". It was much smaller than the others. He wondered if it might be a window into her soul, or at least the soul she had mysteriously shown him yesterday.

It was a poem, an unusual poem, with the words scattered helter skelter across the page in no particular order, and in varying sizes and shades of gray. 



Michael opened one story and started to read it thoroughly. He heard Mouse exit the bathroom and move to her bedroom. After a short while he heard her tiny footsteps coming toward him down the hall. He hurriedly closed the windows he'd opened, hiding his act of spying before he could be caught.

* * *

Mouse stopped at the end of the hallway to watch her brother sitting at the computer. Michael frantically clicked the mouse to close a number of windows before she could see them. She hoped he'd seen everything. She had certainly given him enough time, and made it easy enough to find.

She could see him visibly tense as she stepped up behind him. She bit her lip in guilt. She placed her hands on each of his tight shoulders, lightly at first, then more firmly. She massaged them with her small, weak hands, inconsequentially, she was sure. She kissed the gleaming top of his bald head, then bent to nuzzle his cheek with hers, enjoying the scratch of his short stubble. She let him hear her give a low hum of comfort.

"You're back," he said softly.

She was such a shit, she thought. She was killing him.

"Yes," she answered. "I'm sorry. I wrecked things again. I panicked."

His head spun around, his eyes wide in confusion and denial. "How do you get that?" he asked. "That was amazing!" His eyes dropped to study her, clearly pleased and excited that she'd put on a sexy, sheer baby doll, one that hid absolutely nothing and unambiguously screamed a desire to be thoroughly fucked.

Mouse's face burst into a pleased smile at his compliment. He'd said it was amazing. Of course it was, the old self-confident Mouse told her. She quickly spun him around to plop into his lap and bury her head on his chest, hiding any thoughts of guilt that might have been written all over her face.

He doesn't know much, she thought to herself. He was too overwhelmed to notice, or to figure it out. She completely fell apart, but he didn't know.

"I'm sorry, I just had to wash the top right away," she lied easily. Too easily, she thought, beating herself up yet again. "It's just, I just made that top myself, it was the first time I've ever worn it, and I didn't want it to be ruined. I hadn't intended to leave it on, but I got... lost in things. And I want to wear it for you again," she said, finally lifting her head to look him in the eye.

He had a twinkle in it. His eyes were so warm, she imagined she could actually feel it heating her face. Alicia was right. They were the warmest eyes she'd ever known.

"I'd like that," he said, and Mouse was happy.

She lifted herself from his lap. She walked seductively away from him, toward the bedroom. She used small, close steps, the kind that gave her ass cheeks a sweet little wiggle. She could feel his eyes on her back and ass. She knew they were there. The baby doll was short and sheer and really barely there at all. It exposed everything to him, everything that was his. 

"Come on, big brother," she said without turning. "Little sister needs your cock in her."

* * *

Mouse was nearing climax. Michael was sweating from his exertions, pumping himself into her furiously, able to stay seemingly perpetually hard since the unbelievable orgasm with which he'd already emptied himself once into his sister's mouth.

The phone rang and the answering machine in the other room picked up. They could both hear it clearly despite their distractions.

"Hi, this is Mona. You know the drill," came Mouse's recorded voice.

"Hey, Mouse. It's Melanie," the voice of their older sister announced with a sing song cadence. After a pause to see if anyone would pick up, she continued. "I was just wondering if you and Michael were around. I heard he was staying over the weekend after he finished work, and I wanted to check in. If he's got you pinned to the floor, pummeling you, just remember it's your own fault for teasing someone bigger than you are. Talk to you later. Bye."

Mouse and Michael were both grinning by the time the message ended and she hung up.

"See, Melanie's right. It's your own fault for teasing your big brother," Michael said with an evil smile, ramming himself into her once with each word.

In reply, Mouse did nothing more than close her eyes, widen her smile, and grab his ass with her hands to help pull him into her.



Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 03





Mouse was up early, while Michael slept in, spent and content. He opened his eyes when she came back into the sunny bedroom wearing a tight black leotard. She sat beside him on the bed, and allowed his hand to glide up the smooth form fitting fabric, caressing her from her thigh to her breast, where he paused to lightly stroke her nipple. He lay back and watched contentedly as it quickly hardened under his touch.

"I don't have time, I have a dance class," she told him. "Now everyone's going to see that," she reprimanded, but with a smile. She bent over to kiss him on the forehead.

"Can't I come and watch?" he asked, breathing into her neck as she held her lips against him. His hands found her narrow waist and held her a moment longer.

She pulled back, beaming. "Sure. I'd like that," she said. "You'll have to hurry, I don't want to be late. This is the best exercise I get all week."

She got up and headed out of the room.

"Usually," she added over her shoulder, with a grin.

* * *

A sprinkle of sweat gave Mouse a soft sheen around her hairline when she had finished. Michael had thoroughly enjoyed watching her, and the other dancers, go through their routines, Mouse noticed. Some of the moves were very erotic, and she enjoyed watching his reactions. 

She even enjoyed having him watch the other women, slyly checking them out when he thought neither they nor she was looking. She knew he didn't want them, he only wanted her. She noticed that a few of them sensed and enjoyed the secret attention, too, but they were no threat.

"What do you want to do with the rest of the day?" she asked as they stepped onto the street after the class. She looked at the whiskers on his cheeks and chin, left there when he'd had to hurriedly dress to join her in time. She had since asked him not to shave at all today. A days worth of short growth made him look older, and sexier, to her. She liked thinking of him as a bit of a rogue.

"I think I wore you out too much to spend all day in the Mouse Hole," she suggested. They held hands as they walked.

"Want to act like kids?" he asked.

Mouse glanced sidelong at him, wondering what he meant by that.

"Would you like Daddy to take you to the zoo?" Michael asked a bit nervously, his eyes focused uncertainly on nothing in particular straight ahead of them.

Mouse hesitated. She looked at him steadily as they walked, her slightly furrowed brow demonstrating confusion and curiosity that she didn't really feel. She knew what game he wanted to play. It sent a quick thrill through her. She was surprised at his audacity.

She slid closer to him, slipping her hand under his arm, holding it near the elbow. "Sure, Daddy. Sounds like fun," she answered in a little girl voice, playing along.

* * *

The zoo was just a short walk from her apartment. It was a small affair in the middle of Lincoln Park, near the lake, right in the midst of an array of high rise apartment buildings. Not far from there Clark Street offered an array of shops and eateries. 

They made a long, simple day of walking around, giggling at things. He called her "sweetie" and "princess" and "little girl", and she called him "Daddy". Not often enough, or loud enough, to draw too much attention, but the game was constantly being played.

It was a cool, overcast day, an early sign of fall. The weather gave a somber, urgent feel to everything they did. Low, uneven clouds of shifting shades of gray cruised rapidly by overhead. They were a high ceiling of anger and sorrow and urgency personified. They made it seem as if everything was in motion, everything was alive and racing.

Throughout the day Mouse kept stopping complete strangers, asking them to take pictures of Mouse and Michael together, as if they were tourists. She got pictures of them standing arm in arm at the zoo in front of the elephants, holding hands in front of the boats in Diversey Harbor, mugging in front of the place they stopped for hot dogs. They took a perfunctory one in the park with the city skyline in the background. They took one with her securely nestled and snuggling under both of his arms at the rocks on Lake Michigan. She couldn't wait to see that picture, with the gray sky and the angry, dark, churning gray-green lake behind them.

Mouse also found a wonderfully rewarding variation on the "Daddy" game when she found a dress she really liked.

"Will you buy it for me, Daddy?" she asked sweetly.

"Do you like it? Okay, then. Anything for you, princess," was Michael's easy reply.

By the third outfit, he tried to change the rules.

"I think you have enough clothes for one day, don't you, little girl?" he asked. She pouted and pretended to a throw a small tantrum, and he eventually gave in. But she didn't ask for any more clothes after that. Three was enough. For one day, at least.

Late in the day, as the light was fading from the cloudy sky, they wandered into a used bookstore near her apartment, just to kill some time. Mouse immediately hunted down the trashy romance novels. She eagerly flipped through them, reading the juicy bits out loud, to Michael's discomfort. She found it funny, especially his embarrassment as she continued to call him "Daddy" between readings. "Listen to this, Daddy," she cooed, or "Ooooh, Daddy, here's a good part." 

The public setting gave it an edge that she pushed to the limit with her little girl voice. He was listening between the lines, too, she realized, replacing in his mind the romantic, indirect descriptions as they were written with the colorfully vulgar language he'd read last night. She was sure he was adding even more words to fill in the the blurry implications with the sharply focused truths of his experiences. She felt a warm wetness spreading in her panties by the time she'd grown tired of the game. 

She had to get him alone.

As they left the shop, a sudden downpour hit them from a storm that had barreled in quickly, in typical midwest fashion, while Mouse had been reading melodramatically to Michael about "creamy thighs" and "burning kisses". As the first large drops hit them, Michael ducked under an awning, trying to pull Mouse with him. She fought back, laughing, tugging him out into the rain with her.

"Come on, Daddy, let's run, it's not far," she shouted, giving his arm a jerk. He gave in readily. They both ran like children, laughing, hand in hand down the street. Occasionally Mouse opened her mouth to catch the drops on her tongue.

It was farther than she'd said, and the rain came down in sheets. By the time they reached the foyer of her building they were utterly drenched. Mouse's hair was even darker now, almost black, matted against her head with thick wet strands falling across her eyes. Her face glistened with small, shimmering droplets. She felt soaked. 

Michael was no better. He stood face to face with her, looking down first at her eyes, then at her chest. Mouse glanced down to see her thin white shirt soaked and clinging to her breasts. Their outline was now obvious against the fabric. The full circles of her dark nipples showed clearly, too. The tips stood out like erasers, hard, erect and mercilessly beckoning to him. 

Knowing the effect it would have, she inhaled deeply, letting the intake of breath push her chest up and out, expanding it, making her tits stretch her shirt further. Her tits grew before his very eyes. The nipples were reaching out to touch him, begging him to touch them. She giggled inside at the effect she was sure this was having on him. 

She let her eyes rise up to study his face, while he was still entranced with her breasts. The look on his face consumed her. She was filled with lust for him. She felt her own face flood with the feeling, unable and unwilling to control it. His eyes came up to meet hers, and recognized her passions immediately. He reached out to her, putting his hands on the small of her back to pull her against him. He lifted her gratefully into a deep, passionate kiss.

They were still locked in the kiss and the embrace when they heard the security door click, as someone else exited the building. They broke apart suddenly, caught off guard. Both turned to see a young blonde, Mouse's immediate neighbor, walk by them and out with a slightly embarrassed smile on her face. Mouse brazenly called her back to ask her to take a picture of them, soaking wet, there in the foyer. As soon as she had her trophy and the woman was gone, Mouse took Michael's hand to pull him with her toward her waiting apartment.

* * *

Mouse left Michael to close the door as she scurried, dripping, into her bathroom.

"I'll be right back. Don't sit on anything! Don't get anything wet," she yelled out. 

As quickly as she could, she stripped herself naked. Grabbing a towel, she dried her body. She started to dry her hair, then caught her own reflection in the mirror. She decided she liked the wet, tousled, unkempt look. It made her look vulnerable. She stopped there and took the towel with her into the bedroom. 

She pulled on a new pair of white panties, and a short, tight t-shirt, one that she'd cut off half way, so the bottoms of her breasts showed. She pinched her nipples, to be sure they were firm. Lastly, she grabbed a dress shirt and tie from Michael's bags, and the towel, and hurried out to him.

He stood in the middle of the room, having taken her quite literally, refusing to sit down. She threw the towel to him, giggling. 

"Here, dry off," she ordered, then threw his shirt and tie onto the couch. "Then put these on."

"What, no pants?" Michael asked with a smile.

Mouse's only reply was a tight-lipped smile of her own, and a silly wiggle of the eyebrows.

"And no more lingerie?" Michael added. "I'm very disappointed."

"Nice girls don't wear lingerie in front of their daddy's, silly," she said, returning to their game. With that, she padded into the kitchen while he changed.

"Would you like some coffee to get warm?" she yelled out. When she didn't get a reply, she began making enough for both of them.

As he came in, she purposely turned her body halfway away from him, to face the cabinet with the cups. She stood on tip toe, reaching, letting her ass protrude nicely and letting the too short t-shirt rise, exposing the bottoms of her nipples. She made a show of being unable to reach the cups.

"Can you help me, Daddy?" she asked in a sweet little voice. 

Mouse looked askance at him briefly, admiring how sexy he looked in the shirt and tie, with no pants. His cock had obediently followed her lead. It was hardening and lengthening at the sight of her. She smiled to herself as she went back to rummaging in the cabinet. 

She listened to Michael's bare, wet feet as he stepped on the kitchen tiles. His cock felt wonderful pressing against the top of her ass and the small of her back as he reached over her to take out two cups and saucers. Still on tip toes, Mouse looked up over her shoulder at him with her best big brown eyes.

"Thank you, Daddy" she said smiling, then shyly dropped her eyes to his tie. Unable to restrain herself, her gaze immediately fell further down to his cock. She let herself touch it once, quickly, with only two fingers. She spun completely around so that it pressed against her belly, and in a moment of further weakness she bent her knees, lowering herself just far enough to let it slide up under her half shirt, into the space between her breasts. 

She raised and lowered herself several times, enjoying the feel of its hot, hard skin against her smooth, soft tits. For her last stroke she squeezed her her own breasts together with two hands, tightening their grip on his cock. She looked up at him, again giving him her best big, brown eyed, little girl look. He was smiling contentedly, looking down on her, enjoying the show and the sensation.

Mouse planted a loud kiss on his shirt, right in front of her face, then another slightly higher. She worked her way up his shirt, leaving a trail of light, noisy kisses. When she was finally upright and on her toes again, she slid her arms around his neck. She gave him a peck on the neck, then the cheek, and then finally found her way to his lips. 

He kissed her hard, surprising her. She responded immediately, opening her mouth to his tongue and moaning into him. His mouth was so much larger than hers, their lips touched, but his seemed to consume hers entirely, and then some. The feel of his beard scratched her chin. His tongue was huge, too. Instead of waiting for hers to find and caress it, it impatiently forced its way past her lips, pushing her own tongue aside, then circling it like an angry, spiraling bird of prey. 

He smelled like a father, too, she thought, a mix of natural musk and "old man" cologne. She needed to buy him something better, she thought, but for tonight this was perfect. She melted into his arms and his mouth, losing herself in her game. 

Abruptly, she pushed him away and strode out of the kitchen.

"I'm tired, Daddy," she said without looking back. "I think I'm going to bed."

He didn't follow her immediately, but instead stood in the kitchen, enjoying the sight of her tempting walk.

"Remember to come tuck me in, Daddy," she called to him, as she disappeared into the hallway.

* * *

Mouse lay on the bed on her back to wait. She positioned herself with her knees over the edge of the bed, so her lower legs hung down toward the floor. She spread her thighs, opening and exposing her crotch. Her half shirt was purposely pulled up, to expose the points of her nipples. While she waited she slipped her own hand into her wet cunt, more as an erotic tease for him than because she wanted to touch herself. She'd done this enough over the long years. She wanted him.

Before long Michael appeared in the doorway.

He looked handsome and mature in the shirt and tie, with a full day's growth on his face. There was a lot of gray in his beard, something she had never noticed because he kept his head shaved bald, to mask the paucity of hair there. It reminded her how old he was, that in some ways he was almost old enough to be her father. It was exciting.

His cock stuck out between the front tails of his shirt, like a dinosaur poking its head out of a cave. Mouse almost giggled at the thought, then caught herself, afraid of ruining the mood. But little girls do giggle, she thought, and so she let it out.

"Do you know how to fuck, Mona?" the man asked from the door.

"Show me, Daddy," was her instant reply. "Teach me how to fuck."

"You want me to, Mona? You want daddy to teach his little girl how to fuck?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Michael stood over her, right at the edge of the bed. He leaned over and reached out with one hand to rub the outside of her panties, feeling the soft folds of her pussy through the fabric.

"Take your hands out of your panties, Mona," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she whimpered, jerking her hands out quickly. She brought a wet hand up to her mouth, first sucking on the finger tip, then opening her mouth in a smile and biting it lightly, seductively with her teeth. 

She closed her eyes as Michael's hand explored her cunt briefly. She wiggled and squirmed, just a bit, pretending it was too sensitive to be touched. Soon he impatiently slipped thick fingers into the waistband to pull them down past her ankles. 

He looked at her a moment, admiring her. She peeked at him slyly through half closed lids, enjoying the dawning realization on his face that she'd shaved herself clean there, for him. She had done it on a whim that morning, when dressing for dance class, against her better judgement. 

It made her look younger, like a teenager, and that went against her own carefully crafted self-image, and her dislike for her already childlike body. But it did add a titillating edge to things, a virginal look that was hard to beat and sure to excite him in the right context. And the daddy-daughter game they'd been playing all day was certainly the right context. It now achingly promised to give Mouse an exquisite conclusion.

"Daddy has to kiss you now, baby," he said, then lowered his mouth to her cunt lips. She felt the abrasive scratch of his short whiskers against her inner thighs, then the sudden bathing warmth as his mouth tried to take her whole pussy in like a woman swallowing a cock. His tongue snaked out and flicked around the edges, then drove briefly into her wet hole and out again. It finally worked its way up the folds of her slit toward her swollen clitoris. When Michael found it, he hesitated.

"Holy shit, Mouse!" he whispered, hovering just inches above it, eyes locked on the spot. "It's almost huge!"

Mouse laughed, then lifted her hips off the bed to push her clitoris against his mouth.

"Do you like it, Daddy? It's big and hard. It's my little mouse cock, and it wants to fuck your mouth," she said with a playful squeak, still using her little girl voice. She maneuvered her swollen clit up into the crease of his lips, then vibrated her hips quickly, making small, sharp thrusting motions into his mouth, fucking him just as she'd said. He grabbed her ass in his strong hands to help hold her up, and responded to her fucking by massaging her cunt around the clitoris with his lips, and by driving his tongue hard against her clit itself.

"Oh, yes, Daddy. I like that. Is this fucking, Daddy, are we fucking now?" she asked demurely.

With this he forced her hips back down to the bed with his mouth and face. He hungrily devoured her pussy, sometimes wandering wetly and aimlessly over it with his mouth, other times carefully but energetically playing with her amazing clitoris with his tongue, and still other times just kissing the flesh around it, softly saying "Daddy loves you, baby, Daddy loves you very much."

Mouse lay on her back, lost in the dream world of her brother-father's mouth and her sister-daugher cunt, both hot and wet, each fucking the other. That dream shattered when she felt his hands grip her hips firmly, lift her and almost violently spin her over onto her stomach. She giggled and squealed at the shock. Once on her belly, she squirmed invitingly, knowing he must be looking with longing at her adorable, little girl ass. She raised her hips a few inches off the bed, opening her cunt to him, giving him a clear invitation.

"Put it in me, Daddy," she pleaded. "Please put it in me now."

She held her body like that, with her ass up, her cunt wide and greedy, for what seemed an eternity. He waited, torturing her, letting her continue to offer herself to him, and to beg.

"Please, Daddy? Please? Put it in now, please?" she squealed.

And suddenly he was in her, not gently, not slowly, but driving deeply into her, up to the hilt, all at once. It was painful at first, though more of a shock than physical discomfort. She felt the full girth of his cock stretch her cunt lips in a way she didn't remember. She had thought her cunt was slippery and ready, that she'd had him fully inside her a half dozen times in delight, yet this time she felt like he might split her. 

The length of it shocked her too. It felt as if it had entered her more deeply than he ever had, than any man ever had. The slight bend in his cock took her differently this way, from behind, driving up and into the wet hot flesh at the back of her hole, touching her in ways and places he never had. It stretched and it hurt and it filled her, until finally it felt right, it felt like it belonged, like it was a perfect fit.

"Oh, yes, Daddy," she squealed. "Yes, yes, yes, that's..."

And then it was gone. He'd pulled out of her, leaving her feeling empty and lonely. Her eyes opened wide in confusion. She stared at the headboard, her body as tight as a board itself, waiting for him to return.

"Where are you, Daddy? Put it in me again, please. Please, I need you in me again, Daddy."




Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 03



And then he did. Again he filled her completely in one hard stroke, stretching her, filling her, the force of his thrust pushing her along the sheets toward the headboard. She grabbed the pillow with both hands and actually screamed at the sensation. Mouse clenched her teeth. She felt her throat tighten, she felt the muscles in her own arms and legs tighten, she felt every part of her suddenly harden like rock, with the hardest muscle of all stabbing her in the cunt. The pleasure and pain of it was overwhelming, it became everything.

"Oh, God, Daddy! Oh, God, you're so big Daddy, you're so big inside me..."

This time she sensed it as it began to slip out of her. She clenched her legs and cunt muscles tightly, desperately and uselessly trying to hold him inside. As it left her again she again felt empty and abandoned.

"No, Daddy!" she pleaded. "No, please Daddy, leave it in me, please, put it in and fill me, Daddy."

She waited again, this time first in silence, and after that with only soft whimpers muffled by her pillow. She wiggled and squirmed, and it seemed he made her wait forever.

"Daddy loves you, sweetie," the voice came, soft and deep and comforting. But still he didn't enter her.

And then he was in her again, harder and deeper it seemed, this time, but she was ready and willing and took all of him and still wanted more. This time, too, she felt his silk tie fall between her ass cheeks, then trace a path up her spine as he mounted her. She hadn't noticed it before. The feeling was luxurious.

"You're so beautiful, Mouse," he said from above her, his voice low and harmonic. "Anything for daddy's little girl." He left it in her.

He moved his cock gently back and forth, then, not much, just enough to make her feel the difference, the friction. She felt his breath on her neck, and then that delicious day's worth of facial hair brushing, nuzzling, tickling, scratching her cheek. She cooed in delight. Her mouth opened and her head turned, hunting blindly for his lips, to kiss him.

And then he left her again, and she was cold and alone on the bed.

"No, Daddy, stop it! Please, Daddy, please. Where are you? Where are you, Daddy, I need you, I need you inside me."

"Daddy's here, baby," he answered calmly, thrusting into her again, then pulling out just as quickly.

"Please, Daddy, it feels so good. I want to make you feel good, too, inside me where it feels so good."

"You make Daddy feel good, too, princess," came his voice, and then he was in her again, pressing her down into the bed, driving his cock deep inside her. "So good!" he grunted, and then pulled out of her again.

Mouse grunted back at him in disgust. "Stop it, Daddy! Stop teasing me. Fuck me, Daddy, fuck your little girl. Please, please, I need it."

She could hear the soft sounds of silk brushing cotton as he removed his tie and opened his shirt.

And then he was in her.

"Whore," he said accusingly, then withdrew.

"No, Daddy, no," Mouse protested with a feigned whimper. "Im your little girl, your sweet little girl. Put it in me, Daddy." 

And then he was in her.

"Whore," he said, more firmly this time, then withdrew.

"No, Daddy, please! I need your cock. I need your cock in me..."

"Whore!" he accused, thrusting hard into her with the word. "Whore! Whore! Whore!" he repeated, thrusting each time, making her scream each time, then abruptly leaving her empty again.

"Okay, Daddy! Okay, I'll be a whore, your whore. I am a whore. I'm Daddy's whore. I'm Daddy's wet, ready whore. Please just fill me with your cock."

Instead of feeling his cock again in her cunt, she felt fingers, three fingers drive into her 

slippery, wet hole. They wiggled around a moment, gathering her cum, and then they were gone. 

The pleasure of the next shock amazed Mouse. A moment later two fingers, slippery with her cum on them, drove deeply into her asshole, entering and stretching her unexpectedly yet again. Mouse screamed into her pillow, but lifted her ass to him, helping him fill her. Then the third finger joined in, spreading her even further. Finally, with his three fingers still in her ass, Mouse felt his cock again, tearing into her cunt. Her eyes widened in shock, fingers and cock violating her ass and cunt, stretching her, filling her mercilessly.

She screamed over and over into her pillow.

He left her again, feeling more empty than ever, violated and empty.

By now, her pleas had been reduced to soft whimpers. She raised her ass in the air, offering it to him, softly moaning to be filled and fucked.

"Now Daddy is going to fuck you, princess," the voice announced to her relief.

And then he was in her again, driving, pulling, driving, pulling, fucking her with an incredible, ceaseless passion.

"Oh, Daddy, oh, my daddy, daddy, oh my daddy!" Mouse repeated over and over.

"Yes, baby, Daddy's here," the baritone answered soothingly. "Daddy is here to fuck you, baby, Daddy's going to keep fucking you. Daddy can't stop himself anymore."

Mouse smiled into her pillow now, knowing that he wouldn't leave her. She felt his hand slide under her belly and down, finding her clitoris again as he continued to fuck her. His large, masculine fingers pinched and circled and teased it. Her hand found his arm to caress it as he played with her.

"That's so good, Daddy," she cooed. "You touch me so good." The last words trailed off into an erotic whimper.

Then his hand slid up her belly, crossing her ribs, to find her breast. She lifted herself up on her elbows, opening her tits to him. Both his hands snaked around, one cupping each breast. Without support he fell on her, driving her down into the bed under his torso. She felt the pressure as his palms and fingers smothered her tits, covering them completely. She felt a bolt of pleasure as fingers of one hand found and pinched her nipples. The sensation moved to the other side, as the second hand copied the first. 

His thrusts eased as he played with her, and then he seemed to remember himself and again he was forcing himself into her, pinning her to the sheets, splitting her deliciously. She listened to the rhythmic slapping of his hips against her ass cheeks, and the wet slurping sounds coming from her own dripping cunt.

"I like when you squeeze my titties, Daddy," she got out, half words, half squeal.

His mouth was on her ear then. It was warm and wet, just touching the lobe.

"You have such a sweet pussy, baby. Such a sweet, sweet pussy for Daddy," he whispered huskily.

"Do you like it, Daddy?" she asked through a smile. "Do you really like it? Do you really like fucking my sweet little pussy, Daddy?" Mouse felt herself coming then. She felt it rising in her, bubbling up uncontrollably. She felt the sensation taking her body away from her, taking control, throwing her into oblivion. She tried to tell him, to let him know what he was doing to her.

"Yes, yes, yesyesyes, Daddy, dad..." was all that came out. Then she was bucking wildly underneath him, thrusting herself against him, trying to force him deeper and deeper into her, greedily trying to get more of his cock. Her body tensed.

"Daddydaddydaddydaddydaddy..." came racing out of her mouth in a stream. Abruptly he pulled out of her again, leaving her empty, leaving the word "no" echoing in her mind. But just as quickly he picked her tiny frame up like a doll, spun her over onto her back, and was inside her again, fucking her wildly once more. 

She remembered later hearing him moaning, and calling her over and over again, "Mouse, Mouse, my Mouse" as he fell on her, smothering her and her own screams in his hairy, sweaty chest. Then she felt his cum shooting into her, bathing her, painting the inside of her loving cunt.

"That's it, Daddy," she cooed directly into his chest, stopping to kiss and suck his nipple.

"That's it, Daddy, come inside me, fill your little girl with cum."

* * *

She lay a long time beneath him, crying silently into his bulk. She was neither sad nor happy, just both consumed and devoured by a wide, mottled, gray sky full of emotions. The tears seeped from the corners of her eyes to mix with the musky layer of sweat on Michael's chest.

"Michael!" she remembered abruptly, pulled violently from her fog. She pressed her arms up against him, trying to push him off of her.

Feeling the sudden shove, he quickly raised himself up, afraid he was hurting her. Before he could go far, she looped her arms around his neck and held him with locked hands, not letting him go any further.

"I'm sorry, darling. Was I smothering you?" he asked tenderly, looking into her face, propped up on his strong arms.

"No," she smiled. Her hands traced the muscles of his arms and worked their way to his chest, where they played through his chest hairs. She viciously twisted a knot of hair in her fingers and pulled it hard. He took the playful pain in silence.

"You couldn't hurt me," Mouse added. "That was amazing, you were amazing!" she said, grinning with delight.

"He was amazing," Michael corrected. She thought she sensed a touch of jealousy in his voice. It wasn't obvious, but maybe it was there.

"No! No, not 'him', 'you' were amazing," she glowed, eyes dancing. "No one else could ever do that to me."

"He could..." Michael returned.

"He could not! He never could! He never will," she snapped angrily. "He's my father and he wouldn't, and I wouldn't let him, or even try, so it can never happen.

"Only with you," she finished, her voice regaining its kindness while she twirled his chest hairs again. "Only. With. You."

"You sound like Melanie," he accused, referring to their prudish and overbearing older sister, and her habit of speaking in purposely stilted sentences. 

She grabbed and twisted his chest hairs again in reply, violently and repeatedly. In defense, Michael grabbed her wrists and forced them down to the bed, then fell on her with mock growls, covering her neck and shoulders with soft, pretend animal bites. She writhed and wriggled under him, giggling, loving the feel of his body on hers, the smell of him in her face, and a wonderful closeness she felt with her brother-lover.

It had taken a while, but Michael and Mouse were together.

* * * 

Mouse slept peacefully for most of the night. In the early morning half light her dreams became tense and real. A battalion of men, seemingly everyone Mouse had ever known or seen, came into her dreams to touch her, to kiss her, to grope her and to enter her; her boss, her parent's neighbor, her ninth grade gym teacher. The handy man in her apartment building. The teenage boy she often saw on the bus. A random policeman coming to check on all of the noise. 

But Michael wouldn't come to her. She kept wondering why, as more and more men wandered in and took her. Toward the end she was lying face down on the sheets. Another man had just finished with her when she felt her father's cock pressing itself again her ass, and the weight of his broad chest resting on her slim back.

"Daddy is here for you again, baby," he said to her in her dream.

"Yes, Daddy," she said in warm reply, instantly less tense.

"Give Daddy a kiss, sweetheart."

She gave him a tender, little girl peck on the cheek, then couldn't resist giving him another on the lips. His huge, masculine mouth became hungry against hers. He began to devour her tiny lips and tongue like an angry, churning ocean overwhelming a peaceful shore.

"Do you want me to fill you again, princess?" he asked huskily in her ear.

"I do, Daddy, I do," she whimpered, and he was instantly, wonderfully inside her again.

"Will you be a woman for me again, baby?" he asked in a whispered growl.

"I will, Daddy, I will," she promised, grinding her cunt back onto his cock to please them both.

"Should Daddy come in you again, sweetie?" he asked.

Mouse couldn't reply, overwhelmed by sensations and feelings. Her hands slid forward, finding his on the sheets in front of her. She grabbed them tightly. They squeezed back lovingly, their firm grip comforting and protecting her. They were big and strong. Her fingers traced his, unexpectedly finding his wedding ring, and then it disappeared as if it were never there. She remembered it though, and saw mother's horrified face for a moment. He pushed into her again, making her smile silently with joy, as the disturbing image was lost.

"Good morning, baby," he said, with Michael's voice.

"Good morning, Daddy" she replied sweetly.

Michael's voice. Her eyes snapped open, out of the half dream. Daddy was gone. Michael's hands grasped her own in front of her eyes, and she felt her brother's cock slip gently out then back into her slippery hole. She was awake now, wide awake with her brother inside of her, fucking her.

"Daddy can fuck you again, Mouse. Daddy wants to fuck you."

"No!" was her immediate, too angry reply.

She took a moment to awaken completely, to leave her world of dreams.

"No, Michael, I want you. I only want your cock in me this morning," she begged softly. She pulled his hands to her mouth, kissing them, bathing them in the warm, wet comfort of her lips. 

"I need your cock now, Michael, my lovely brother's cock." She arched her back skillfully, pushing her ass up into his stomach, driving his cock deeper into her cunt. She raised her head from the bed and tipped it back, allowing his warm breath to kiss the tempting expanse of her neck. He peppered it with hot kisses. She fell back down with a contented whimper.

From there on they were both quiet, making love with gentle strokes and sounds and touches like tender, long time lovers. Her brother's cock was in her again, stretching her, filling her. As always, it felt too big, bigger than she thought she could take. There was always a feeling of rape because of it, in the way he always forced it into her, just a bit further than she wanted, just a bit more than she was ready for. He raped her every time. And she loved it, and him.

* * *

Afterward she lay beneath him once more, relishing the feeling of him covering her, smothering her, shielding her from the world. She'd always felt that way about him, about her big brother, even when she didn't use it, and didn't need it. 

He protected her. He kept her safe. She could hide behind him, cower behind him if she chose. She could peek at the world, at her fears, from behind him in safety. Like a frightened little girl, she could hide there and he would always protect her. He would always be tall and strong and powerful, a human wall that no one could get past. Her wall.

* * *



Mouse was up early again. She threw on a pair of running shorts and a loose t-shirt, planted a kiss on Michael's hairy, naked thigh as he slept, and headed out to get some exercise. She opened her door and stepped into the hall at the same moment as her young blonde neighbor, the one that had caught them kissing in the foyer, did the same. Tania, Mouse thought her name was. The one that shared the apartment wall in Mouse's bedroom.

Shit.

Mouse tried not to look at the woman. She noticed her doing the same. They both carefully studied the trampled, stained carpet as they made their way to the elevator. Mouse dawdled behind her. She considered using the stairs, then decided she had to deal with things eventually, for Michael's and for her sake, both. She couldn't keep hiding their affection. Sex, she thought, correcting herself. Their sex. Fucking.

Gratefully, the elevator was already on their floor. The door opened obediently with the first press of the button. Both women stepped into it, each moving to their own corner at the back, and each carefully focusing their attention on the numbers above the doors, watching them laboriously counting down from nine to one.

Mouse couldn't take it. She finally snapped.

"Sorry about last night," she mumbled, half hoping that Tania wouldn't hear, or would simply ignore her.

When there was no answer, Mouse relaxed. Perhaps she had been out late herself last night, and hadn't heard a thing. Still uncertain, Mouse studied the ceiling, the numbers, the floor, everywhere but Tania's corner. 

Eventually she looked at Tania enough to notice she was smirking.

"What?" Mouse asked confrontation-ally, though with a small, friendly smile.

Tania looked over at her. She blushed a bit, then looked at the floor herself as she broke into a grin. 

"It sounded... great," she said, then looked up at the numbers again. "I wish I could find a guy to play 'daddy' for me."

Mouse's eyes stretched wide in panicked shock. She had hoped that Tania was out late. At worst, she figured she'd heard the noise of their lovemaking, muffled but unstopped by the wall. It had never occurred to her that the words might be intelligible.

A blush was burning in Mouse's face. She let her gaze find a spot somewhere beyond the far wall.

Tania glanced over at Mouse, looking partly uncomfortable, partly admiring, and partly awed.

"I didn't think I was ever going to fall asleep, and I didn't want to," Tania elaborated. "I kept trying to think of a guy, anyone, that I could call to come over and scratch the itch you two put into me."

Mouse grinned sheepishly, still blushing. She lifted her head to meet Tania's eyes briefly, then looked back up over the elevator doors as the floor number finally, thankfully reached "one". As soon as the door opened, Mouse raced to step out. She belatedly looked back at Tania to give her a quiet "have a nice day". Before she could get it out, Tania asked a question.

"Hey... how did you get him to do it?" she asked, shy and eager both at once.

Mouse considered her answer. She could have told her that first you have to spend decades teasing your big brother, until he gets so drunk and fed up and hot that he fucks you silly. Then you have a chaste, long distance affair, so that when you meet again you are both ready to explode. But when you finally do get together, you panic and screw everything up. And then, when you're making amends, you leave far from subtle hints about your fantasies lying around for him to find.

"He's just... a special guy," Mouse abbreviated. "He'll do anything to make me happy, you know?"

"Shit. Well, if you get bored of him, send him to me," she replied, now walking out side by side with Mouse. "Shit, what am I saying. How the hell would you ever get bored of that?"

How indeed, Mouse thought.

"Bye," Mouse said, breaking into a trot to start her run.

* * *

When Mouse returned Michael was up, sitting at her computer. He'd found the image she'd left on the screen for him. It was a new cartoon. It was one of very few that did not feature Michael's beautiful cock. Instead it showed a huge mouth, with a short growth of fresh facial hair. It covered the bottom of the page, as if the owner was lying down, facing up. The mouth was stretched wide open, and a huge, thick, arching, twisting, glistening tongue stuck up and out. The usual sexy mouse precariously straddled the very tip, wearing a skimpy baby doll, trying frantically to somehow fit the tongue inside it's little mouse pussy. It's face was contorted in agony, or ecstasy, and it's mouth formed an exquisitely large "O".

Beside the picture Mouse had left open her "Mouse Droppings" folder in clear invitation, so Michael wouldn't need to feel guilty.

Mouse came directly to Michael when she walked in. She wanted to shower, but she couldn't stand not touching him.

He spun in the chair to face her, his warm, smiling eyes thrilling her.

"I like the one with your old tire swing in the backyard," he commented, letting his smile pull into a grin. "And the one in mom and dad's bed. And prom night."

"Hmmmmm. Anything else?" she asked, playing her fingers along his shoulders.

"The Melanie stories are... entertaining. You don't really think she'd do any of it, do you?"




Mouse Bk. 02 Ch. 03



Mouse held her silence for a long moment, then kissed him as hard as she could.

"Maybe," she said, when she'd had her fill. "Keep reading, I'll go and make breakfast."

"Daddy likes bacon," Michael said after she'd retreated a few steps.

Mouse stopped, but didn't turn to look back.

"Let's leave Daddy at home for a while. A long while."

"You didn't enjoy it?" Michael asked, suddenly uncertain.

Mouse spun around, wearing a face lined with gentle concern.

"No, yes, yes I did, I loved it, Michael. It was... amazing. It was a night I'll never, ever forget." It may take Tania a while to forget, too, she thought to herself.

"But?" he asked, confused.

"It's just... a lot of things. I did feel a bit, I don't know, skeevy when I got up, like I'd gone too far. I liked it, I really did, but I have enough guilt with just us."

Michael's eyes widened as she'd said this. She'd never admitted it to him.

"It's good guilt, with us," she hurried, seeing his face. "It is. It's an amazing feeling. But with, with him, I'd just be losing more than I'm gaining, you know? That's part of what made the whole thing so fantastic, being able to have it both ways, to have him and not have him.

"But now I want to be with you. It's your last day, you have to be at the airport in just a few hours. I almost ruined the weekend and I need to show my big brother how much I love him and miss him and want him.

"So," she said, looking down at her toes, then back up into his beautiful eyes. She clasped her hands behind her back and stood on one foot, with the other behind the first, toe touching the floor, the image of a sweet little girl. She put on her little girl voice, too, and twisted back and forth, gently.

"So," she continued again. "Daddy goes away for a while, probably a long time. We will play this game again, but not too soon. First I have to make breakfast for my big brother, and then fuck him a few times so he doesn't forget his little sister too quickly, and then I've got to get him to the airport," she finished sweetly, giving him a wide, playful, little sister smile.

* * *

Michael was having a second helping of everything at the kitchen table.

Mouse waited for him belly down on the bed, facing the headboard, knees bent, feet in the air and entwined at the ankles. An array of nail polish bottles were spread out before her. One was open, a burnt umber, like the famous crayon. She was propped up on her elbows as she carefully applied the color to the third finger of her left hand.

She was bare below the waist. Up top she wore only another of her skimpy, half-cut t-shirts, the kind that ended just above the curve of her breast, but was low enough to hide her nipples – usually. It was also the kind that so easily rode up, by accident or design, to expose more of her, almost all of her, to him.

She heard Michael walk in behind her. She didn't turn. She could hear him standing there, watching her. She could almost hear his eyes wandering hungrily over her ass. She let one foot fall to the bed, offering him a better view. Then she lowered the other, carefully spreading her legs wider as she did so. Its all yours, she thought to herself. She wriggled a bit as if trying to get comfortable, but that was also for him.

Outwardly, she obliviously dipped the brush into the bottle, then began to work on the next nail. She heard him begin to unbuckle his belt. She heard the gritty sound of his jeans sliding down his legs to fall at his feet. She closed her eyes, picturing the delicious bend in his hard cock, her cock, and it would have to be hard by now. She fought down the urge to turn and look at it, to admire it. She just held its image in her mind, waiting for him to surprise her with it, to fill her "unexpectedly." 

Come on, big brother, she thought. Don't make me wait. I'm teasing you, but don't tease me again now. Do it.

It seemed like forever. The anticipation, the torment, was breathtaking.

It was forever, she realized. He'd gone.

She turned, panicked momentarily, miffed that he hadn't taken the bait, that he could somehow resist her. She capped the bottle quickly, then got up and hurried out of the room to find where he'd gone, why he'd gone.

As she turned the corner at the end of the hall his hands grabbed her shoulders roughly, spun her and pulled her to him in one irresistible motion. He pulled her half off her feet, onto her toes, and forced his tongue deeply into her mouth, probing arrogantly, artlessly with it throughout her mouth. Her eyes were wide in shock, her body tense with surprise, at first. Then she relaxed and flowed into him, letting him take her. 

Her hand fell naturally to his cock. She wrapped her fingers around it, stroking it gently as his mouth released hers and raged its way through her hair down to her neck. She tipped her head obligingly back and to the side, with a wicked smile glowing on her face.

"I thought you didn't want me. Bad boy. You hurt your little sister's feelings," she teased in a singing, little girl pout of a voice.

He laughed tauntingly into her neck. She jerked hard on his cock in retribution, squeezing it tightly, but he responded with a pleasured moan instead of a yelp of pain. She kissed his chest, then stepped away, pulling him with her by his prick, leading him to the bed. Once there she pushed him down onto it with one hand against his chest, still holding his cock in the other.

"I'm going to do this right this time, Michael." she breathed, glancing shyly, apologetically at him, before branding the cock in her hand with her eyes. She climbed up onto the bed beside him, kneeling, and arched her back just enough for the bottoms of her nipples to poke out from beneath the half-shirt.

Before he could move she lowered her mouth onto him. That way she slowly, achingly, deliciously, willingly, eagerly, happily pulled her big brother's cum out of his cock and into her mouth, so she could contentedly swallow every glorious drop.

* * *

They made love once more that day, again tenderly, lovingly. She made him kneel, naked, in the center of her living room. Mouse let the sight of her body arouse him. She moved for him, danced for him, made him want her once more. Once he was ready his little sister straddled his thighs with her own, then lowered herself onto him, watching his eyes intently as she did so. He was barely able to move that way, unable to help, so she controlled their love making completely. He held her firmly in place, but was otherwise willingly under her control, allowing her to guide his mouth to hers, or to her nipples or shoulders or neck, as she pleased. 

Mouse moved on him, slowly, gently, with torturously small strokes, or plunged onto him deeply, fully, but again only as she pleased. She allowed him to come, eventually, but only after she had taken all the pleasure she wished from her big brother.

Even when she controlled their lovemaking, he had a power over her, she thought. Other times, other places, she had power over him. She could control him with a look in her eyes, or with her smile, or by flashing him a sweet, alluring view of her breasts or nipples or ass. She could cow him with a sharp remark or a snide cutting joke, sending him into a brooding silence. She could dismiss his opinion with a terse contradiction, continuing on then with whatever she had decided. 

But alone, together, fucking, she was entirely at his mercy. She had to do his bidding, she had to do anything she could to make him happy, to make him climax, and anything he did, anything, made her climax, too.

* * *

The next day, Mouse had two people in her own office, chatting about a project, so she couldn't call Michael. She pulled her keyboard over to surreptitiously start a chat session as soon as she was sure that Michael would be in to work. She had a new moniker. She knew he'd keep the conversation painfully short, but she just needed to contact him:

daddyslittlemouse:hey

mousetrap40:hey

daddyslittlemouse:again?

mousetrap40:so soon?

daddyslittlemouse:please?

mousetrap40:soon

daddyslittlemouse:---O8>

mousetrap40::) bi

daddyslittlemouse:l8ter (:

For a moment Mouse felt terribly lonely, but at the same time, not alone at all, and far less alone than she'd felt in years. 

She turned her attention, reluctantly, back to work.