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Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 01

By: Rob_mDear



Book 03 Chapter 01: Mouse's Wedding

<8 Monday: Second Proposal

Another ocean wave lapped at their feet and calves. His cock plunged deeply into her with its arrival, in rhythm with the waves, as it seemed to her that it had been doing for hours. A warm, soft breeze had been passing over them since the beginning of the evening. Now it passed unnoticed, driven from her mind by more pressing sensations.

"That's it, Michael," she purred as his cock stretched her yet again, filling her completely. "Fuck your baby sister, Michael, fuck me good."

"You fuck me so good," she added in a soft squeal, almost a whimper. "You fuck your little Mona-Mouse so good."

This was their third time today, and her lover, her brother, was now staying hard for as long as he wished, giving her pleasure without end. The Mexico sky was deep, dark blue-black, sprinkled with points of white. The moon was bright and full, floating amidst a few small scattered clouds that gleamed themselves with the moonlight. The dark ocean sparkled with that same soft moon-glow, and reflected the dimly lit clouds in shimmers. 

This was it, Mouse thought, the most romantic and utterly unsurpassable fuck of her entire life. Her brother was taking her on a scenic, secluded beach, filling her, possessing her, and not letting her go.

His fingers found her nipples again with his marvelous hands. His touch had been gentle and exploring at first, but now it was firm, almost rough, as he lost himself in his passions. She loved that, when his large hands completely encompassed her sweet, little tits, when his grip was firm, almost harsh, as if he were subduing her, restraining her, keeping her only for himself, keeping the rest of the world away from her body. She loved being his. She also loved knowing that her body could make him lose control, that her sedate, reserved, even timid brother could go wild, just for her, when she wanted.

Mona knew how to fuck on a beach. She had refused to let sand get painfully in where it didn't belong. That was the smart, worldly wise part of Mouse taking over, at the beginning. So Michael lay on his back with his feet just at the edges of the incoming waves, letting them wash up against his ankles before receding. She lay on her back on top of him. First she let her mouth explore and tease his neck, ears and mouth while his hands caressed her aimlessly. They giggled and kissed and looked at the stars. He fondled her while they talked about nothing, and tender things and dirty things. 

After a while, tiny, little Mona had settled back on the chest of her giant of a brother, looking up at the beautiful night sky. She slipped her pussy onto his wonderful cock, slowly, lovingly, taking him at first only bit by bit, wiggling her way down, relishing the sensation of every fresh touch that his cock head found inside of her. She pretended that it was touching her there for the very first time, that he was the first man to ever enter her, and that every sensation was fresh and new.

He had artfully peeled her florescent green bathing suit aside. It was a wickedly skimpy affair, the kind you can get away with in Mexico, what they call a "slingshot thong". It left her ass and hips completely exposed, the suit itself just covering the anus, with two strands of cloth that came up the front from her crotch, widening just enough to cover her nipples, no more, leaving most of the flesh and curves of her pert, round tits exposed, inside and outside. It then looped around her neck and rejoined to stretch down her back into the crack of her adorable ass. 

She'd had to shave her pussy clean to wear it, except for a narrow strip she left purposely so that Michael, and everyone else, could just see it peeking out above the fabric "V". That swimsuit let her brother, and all of the men at the resort, see almost everything and spend all day wishing they could see more. Michael didn't like having his little sister "eye raped" all day. He wanted her to cover up, or to wear something more conventional. It was sweet. She'd told him she wanted them to ogle her, to lust after her, and she wanted Michael to think about the fact that while they looked, only he could touch, only her loving big brother could touch.

And now that was just what he was doing, with complete abandon. She'd left the suit on, but he'd pulled it aside, exposing her nipples to the moonlight and letting his massive hands cup and squeeze and pinch and kneed her breasts and nipples. And they'd both eagerly pushed the fabric aside at her pussy, letting his sturdy cock invade her delightfully. 

Another wave tickled their legs, higher and further now than when they'd first started, as the tide came in. And again her lover's hips lifted them both forcefully off of the sand, plunging his cock in to the hilt. Mouse screamed this time without restraint, "Oh, God, Michael! Oh, God, your big brother cock is so good, Michael, so fucking good in me!"

As she howled the words at the empty sky, a small part of her really hoped that they'd moved far enough down the beach that no one would hear her, because now that she'd started, she couldn't stop. She was starting to come now in fits, with brief, recurring little orgasms, and she was going to feel and scream her love for her brother with every thrust, and her climaxes would be stronger and louder each time. And he was obviously going to keep it up for quite a while longer.

Michael's muscles relaxed, lowering them back down to the sandy beach. As the waves and his cock and the sensation receded again, just a bit, she found some room for more coherent thought.

"I love you, Michael," she breathed into his cheek. She planted a quick kiss on the stubble beneath his chin, then let her eyes wander over his face, drinking it in. He was eleven years her senior, so much older and so mature. The beginnings of crows feet showed around the edges of his eyes, and more than an occasional gray hair speckled the growing stubble on his chin. She loved that. 

He was so familiar to her, not just because he was her brother, or because they now spent so much time together, so closely. She could see her own face hidden in his. It was like looking in a mirror, looking at herself as she would be were she born a six foot tall ogre of a man, instead of a five foot tall nymph of a woman.

And then his cock lifted and filled her again. 

"Oh, God, I love you Michael! I love you, I love you, I love your cock, your brother cock!" she screamed.

Mouse did adore his cock, almost as much as his hands and his smile and his eyes. She adored all of him, and she loved reminding them both of their incestuous relationship with each other. It made their love making special. It made their fucking right, because the world said it was wrong, but they both wanted it so badly that they did it anyway, willfully, joyfully, wickedly.

"I love you too, Mouse," he exhaled into her ear as he subsided again. 

"Will you marry me?" he asked tenderly, unexpectedly.

Mouse hesitated, panicked, then his cock lifted her again off the sand and into the sky. Yes, she screamed in her head. Yes, yes, she would marry him, she'd be his wife and his sister and she'd fuck him like this every night, he would fill her every night. But she bit her tongue, she bit back the answer, and she moaned and squealed wordlessly instead.

His cock abandoned her again, not completely, but still too much. She felt a sudden loss, an emptiness, a loneliness, and quickly moved her hands to his, pressing them hard against her breasts, making sure he still held her tightly. She felt the ring on her left hand touch the ring on his, gold on cold gold. Her eyes opened wide to stare up at the star filled sky. Ask me again, she thought, ask me again and I'll say yes.

His hands slid down, leaving her breasts to the moonlight, tracing a gentle, sinuous path across her ribs, across the taught muscles of her abdomen, then further still. The sensation grew, not quite a tingling, but a pleasant, spreading burn. It radiated from his fingertips, wherever they went, expanding further out the closer he got to her hot, wet, tortured slit. Then one finger, one thick, strong finger, found her clitoris and traced a series of quick, tight circles around it. Mouse inhaled sharply. 

She clenched her teeth as Michael took the swell of her clitoris between his thumb and finger and squeezed and massaged it like he had her nipples. He pressed, and rubbed and circled all at once, sparking a growing thrill. His other hand gently caressed the crease between her thighs and groin, first one side, then the other, while that one magical finger and thumb tormented and teased the center of all her pleasures.

Then she was rising into the air, up to the stars, as he lifted them both again, and her cunt was deliciously, achingly filled. His cock stretched and skewered her, tickling the moist, soft flesh deep inside her. Another scream escaped her throat, a long, piercing animal cry.

"Please marry me, Mouse, please," he begged her, but in a voice of deep command.

Yes, she thought again. Yes, she would, she would. But she still didn't say it. She couldn't say it. Her nerves knew she wanted to, her body knew. Her cunt muscles clenched, and she drew her thighs together, squeezing his cock tightly, holding him inside her. She wouldn't let him go, she wouldn't let him leave her again.

But she was too excited, too wet, too slippery with cum. As he lowered his ass to the sand, as the next wave slipped back into the ocean, his cock left her again, not all the way, but again too much. She needed all of him.

"Mouse, please. You are so beautiful," he whispered. "You make me feel so happy, so alive."

She wanted to, Mouse screamed in her head. Yes, that's what she wanted, to make him happy, she'd do it to make him happy, she'd do anything to make him happy. Let her make him happy. Ask her again, she thought, please, ask again. She'd say it this time. She would.

She became conscious of his fingers once more. They played her like an instrument, stroking a gentle beat across her clitoris. His second hand moistened its fingers in her wet cunt, then moved up to take the other's place, rubbing her throbbing clit with her own slick cum. The first hand skated back up her body, quickly, to rashly grab one breast. She felt the wide tips of his fingers pressing hard against the ribs around her breast, while his broad palm pushed her nipple down into the flesh of her tit. 

And then the sky fell on her and his cock was in her again, impaling her, ripping her, growing and jerking inside of her. She felt him come then, she felt him emptying an ocean of cum into her cunt. She bucked and screamed, writhing from side to side, pushing her nipples and clit hard against his restraining hands, grinding her pussy hard onto his cock, milking him, draining him and herself.

"Oh, sweet brother," she wailed, "make your little sister's cunt love your cock, make it, make her, make me..."

Her world began to spin and fade and explode all at once. The feeling began where his wet hand was touching her, near where he entered her. From there it spread in waves, taking over, consuming every inch of flesh, racing through every nerve in her body, devouring all of her awareness and reducing it to just that one sensation, just that one overwhelming sensation, beginning where he filled her. She knew she was screaming, but she couldn't hear it, she couldn't hear or see or smell or taste, she could only feel that one overpowering blaze throughout her body.

The feeling lasted and lasted, raging beneath a cold, bright, heedless moon, thundering beside an endlessly lapping, disinterested sea. At the end, her body trembled uncontrollably in one short, final fit. Afterward, she was left panting, feeling his girth beneath her, his sweat on her back, his hefty arms tightly wound around her delicate frame, keeping her from the world. She stared up at the empty night sky, confused by dueling emotions of fear and security, and contentment and loss, and balance and chaos.

But he hadn't asked again.

<8 Arrangements

They were both reading, he a copy of Sports Illustrated, she a trashy romance novel, surviving a cold Wednesday blizzard by staying indoors. Michael sat up on the couch, while Mouse half reclined, nestled back against his chest like he was her own enormous, living cushion. She felt warm and soft against him. Her hair offered the faint scent of tangerine. Michael paused to admire the slow rise and fall of her breasts, with the outline of her nipples just visible through her bra. He tried yet again to return to reading an article on college basketball.

This was his third trip to visit her in a few short months. Perhaps they were really pushing things with their family. It might be too much, too soon. But for now their parents and older sister seemed to mostly accept that Michael suddenly had a lot of work to do in Chicago, a welcome happenstance that maybe would bring Michael and Mouse closer together and stop their bickering. Big sister Melanie might have suspicions, but just that, nothing more.

If they only knew.

They both had wasted much of Michael's first visit, or at least Mouse had. She had panicked, then, about her friends seeing him with her, and about anyone realizing he was both her brother and her lover. Before he had arrived, they had talked about being openly affectionate in public there, where no one knew them both. They talked about acting like boyfriend and girlfriend instead of brother and sister. But when the time came Mouse wasn't the bold, wildly free spirit they both expected her to be. She felt cornered and more cautious on her home turf, in her own environs, around her own friends. It wasn't as easy as she'd thought.

The second trip was better, much better. They touched and kissed and made love, and mingled with her friends at bars and parties. They were generally seen out and about together, freely holding hands, flirting, kissing and, everyone could guess, fucking every chance they got. No one here knew they were siblings.

This time around, this third trip, was supposed to be more about being comfortable with each other. They didn't have to touch in public any more just for the thrill. They didn't have to ogle and rape each other at every opportunity to satisfy decades of curbed and shackled forbidden lust. It was more relaxed, more natural, more content. They were like old lovers, and in many ways more like brother and sister than they'd ever been.

He'd flown in the night before, just beating the storm. Presumably he was here on business, and then leaving for a vacation abroad. In fact, he was using vacation time for the entire trip, not working at all, and he wasn't going anywhere. He was staying right here with his beautiful, sexy baby sister for twelve fantastic days.

Michael looked around the room. There were some pictures of he and Mouse scattered about, mostly pictures from their recent visits with each other. Actually, there were quite a few of them, he noticed. There were pictures of them together everywhere, on the walls, on end tables, on the window sill. There was one from their dinner the first night of his first visit. Next to that was one of them posing playfully at the zoo. In yet another they stood together, arm in arm, soaking wet in the lobby of her building after a sudden downpour. They posed at the lakefront. They cuddled in her apartment, much as they were doing now. 

There were a handful of others, too. One from her college days, when he had been assigned by their parents to pick her up and help her get home. She looked so young then, still a kid to him. There was also a recent one with their whole family, from their parent's anniversary party, the night he had first... taken her. 

He looked at that one and realized with a shock that even there they looked like a couple. She was right beside him, close to him, almost but not quite nestled under his arm. He hadn't noticed it at the time. He'd been so angry with her that night, as usual. The thought had never crossed his mind that she felt that way about him. But even then, before he had even kissed her, she was partly his, or trying to be. He just never knew it.

He glanced out the window. The snow was falling as if a new ice age had begun. No, falling was too gentle a word. The snow plummeted and whipped, both at once, or so Michael felt. He'd never seen snow racing in several directions at once. Mouse said it was just typical Chicago winter weather, and shrugged it off. 

So here they were, trapped inside. Normally, that would have been license to engage in wild carnal expressions of their incestuous lust, but they were utterly spent from the previous evening, his first with her in a month. And then again near dawn. And then again, after breakfast. 

So here they were, just being a couple.

Mouse broke the silence abruptly.

"Let's play a game."

"That's what we always do, play games, isn't it?" he chided, still looking out the window at the blowing snow.

Mouse got up enough to turn and pound his chest with a hard thump, then spun back into her slouch.

"Ouch."

"Silence, jerk. I want to play a game," she said, adopting the tone of a spoiled brat.

"This isn't going to be one of those kinky peeing fetishes you've mentioned, is it?" he asked.

She spun and hit him again, harder. "No, ick. That's disgusting."

"Said the incestuous whore."

"Yes, 'said the cock-loving incestuous and yet virtuous whore'," she corrected.

She smiled at him. He knew instinctively what she wanted. He obediently kissed her forehead lightly.

"Okay, I'm in," he said. He felt an energy rising in him. Part of him was stirring, aroused by her typically dirty, flirtatious words. "Go on."

"Let's pretend to get married."

"Meaning what?"

"I bought a wedding gown at a garage sale last month," Mouse said, trying to make it sound like an everyday thing that anyone might do.

"You didn't."

"Did. It's hot. It wasn't at first, but I saw the potential and made some alterations. It's now maybe a bit too risque to wear at a real wedding. I guess I sort of ruined it that way."

"So you want me to marry my sister."

"Yes."

"In a hot wedding gown."

"Yes."

"In a dress that someone else has already worn for a real wedding."

"Hmmmm, I hadn't thought about that. I like that. I hope they fucked with it on," she said.

"You would. Don't I have to propose first?"

"Yes, of course."

"What if you say no?"

She laughed at him, so he joined in. 

"Always the insecure one, aren't you?" she said.

Michael slid off the couch onto one knee, his face clouding with a serious intensity. He took one of Mouse's tiny hands in both of his. His thick palms and fingers completely smothered her own far more delicate fingers. Her hands were thin and small, almost childlike, their maturity only betrayed by the ruby red polish with little black hearts that she'd applied to the longish nails.

"Will you marry me?" he asked sweetly.

"No," she replied, completely without hesitation.

"Mouse!"

"Well, that's not right. You have to play by the rules. You don't have an engagement ring, there's no expensive dinner, you haven't done anything to make yourself more attractive. You can't just blurt it out. It can't be that easy. I'm no cheap slut."

"Yes, you are, a cheap incestuous slut, I know it for a fact. But okay. What are the rules of this game?"

"You do what I tell you, when I tell you, and when you don't I make fun of you and correct you and have loads of fun doing it, then you do it again, correctly. It's all at your expense, for my pleasure," she said with a satisfied smirk.

"Like I said, that's all we do is play games! This is just like all the others," he protested.


Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 01



"But it has a twist," she said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Which is?"

"You get to marry your sex-pot baby sister. Rehearsal dinner, vows, gown, reception, honeymoon, especially the honeymoon... everything but the church. And if I was really wicked, I'd even work that out, but this will be good enough."

"What about wedding guests? Best man and maid of honor?"

"Check, check and check."

"No," he said, becoming uncomfortable. It was going to involve other people. This was starting to sound elaborate. And dangerous.

"Yes," was her smiling response.

"Who?" he asked. He narrowed his brow at her. Who in the world could she get to play along with this? Who had she told about them? Michael was suddenly a bit nervous. This was wildly unexpected, and appeared to be spiraling out of control all ready, before it had even started.

"That's a secret," Mouse answered, grinning.

He studied her face, waiting for her to break down and explain. She didn't, but she didn't seem anxious either, or to want to surrender at all to his hesitation. He decided to trust her.

"Please tell me there's no flower girl."

"I hadn't thought of that, either," she said, as if considering it.

He raised his hand to slap her, and she flinched. Instead he reached behind her head to pull her into a full, passionate kiss. Her mouth parted easily and readily to let his tongue, very gently, find hers and poke and push and twist as their lips did the same.

"I get to marry my sister?" he asked, after reluctantly breaking the kiss.

"If I say yes," she teased.

He looked at her in mock dismay. 

"I love you," he said.

"Now you're playing the game right," she said, smiling, and kissed him again. This one lasted longer, but was every bit as tender and warm. Then she stood up and walked to her bedroom, leaving him there on his knees.

"Come on, it's almost 4 o'clock," she said, "Let's get ready. It's not going to be easy getting engaged, married and thoroughly fucked nearly into oblivion by your husband-brother, all in four days and nights. We have to get moving. We have to get all dressed up. You have to propose to me in two hours."

8> Wednesday: First Proposal

Mouse looked around one more time, to be sure there was no one in the restaurant that knew her but wasn't in on the game. The snow storm had almost ruined things. The original plan had been to head out of the city, to a fancy place in the suburbs where they were guaranteed anonymity. The storm had made them improvise. It forced them to find something in the neighborhood. They settled on a small italian place, one with dark lighting and few tables. There the storm worked to their advantage, keeping most people away and warm at home instead.

Three of the tables had friends who were in on the game, and came for the show. 

Tania was at one with her boyfriend Jeff, a lawyer. They made an odd couple, much like Michael and Mouse. She was a very tiny blue eyed blonde. He was very tall and very black, and when he wasn't in a sharp suit for work, he incongruously dressed like a gangsta, wearing one large earring and other bling, amidst baggy jeans and overlarge sweatshirts. Mouse always thought it an absurd affectation, but she had enough of her own, she knew. 

Alicia, her latest best friend, was there at another table with her current toy, Paul. Alicia went through men like Mouse went through clothes, quickly getting bored and looking for something new excite her. At a third table, three of her more independent friends sat giggling, and enjoyed being dateless.

Mouse took a sip of her wine, looking over the rim of the glass at Michael. As always, he looked handsome in a suit. He was an odd cross between a big brother, a little brother and a father figure to Mouse. He was old and mundane enough to feel like a father at times, and young and protective and strong enough to feel like her big brother. 

Other times, like now, he was nervous and insecure, and she thought of him as her cute baby brother. There were times that she felt she needed to look out for him, to help him along. There were things, things with people, or art, or adventure, that he just didn't get like she did. This was one of those times, when he needed her, especially since she had put him in this predicament in the first place.

He was supposed to propose to before the end of the meal. Tania, was sitting at a table behind Michael. She constantly looked their way in anticipation, and had begun giving impatient "what's going on?" signals to Mouse. 

Alicia should have already given Michael the ring. It was Alicia's sister's real engagement ring, one she had borrowed under threat of life long torture should anything happen to it. It fit Mouse perfectly. In fact, it fit her so perfectly that it was going to be agony returning it. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry with a huge rock. But it wasn't real, Mouse told herself, even after Michael gave it to her, it was only part of a game, and would mean little.

Michael seemed to be having a tough time getting up his nerve. It was cute. She could actually imagine him behaving the exact same way if he were really proposing to a woman. He'd be unsure of himself, worried that he'd goof it all up. Mouse kept trying to help him along. 

She made sure his wine glass stayed full, and that he kept drinking from it. She made a lot of small talk to ease the tension. She pointed out how empty the restaurant was due to the storm. She looked at him with the most beautiful expressions of longing and admiration that she could muster. When that didn't work, she licked her lips seductively and began to rub the inside of his leg with her foot under the table. If he couldn't find the courage, then perhaps sheer lust would goad him into action.

She could almost see him steel himself before he did it. It was as if his muscles had knotted up and turned to stone. Michael took a deep breath, locking eyes with her, obviously trying hard to shut out his awareness everything else, of anyone else. He slid off of his chair to fall to one knee at Mouse's side. 

Mouse fought back a grin, trying instead to look shocked and confused. Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. He gripped it tightly in his fingers, then quickly pressed it into her palm before folding both of his hands around hers. She felt the diamond poking her flesh, and her brother's warm, thick hands completely covering her own.

Mouse stole a quick glance each way. Everyone was watching. Suddenly she was nervous, too. Things seemed to be happening quickly now, out of her control. Tania's eyes were wide with delight, and there were small smiles on all of her friend's faces.

"Mona. I know I'm not everything a woman could want," Michael began. He had a whole speech, Mouse realized. When did he come up with that? He might actually be good at this, she thought, far better than she'd expected.

"And I know that you are everything that any man could want," he continued. His eyes were locked only on hers, and while she knew it was out of fear and nerves, she still lost herself in the deep warmth of those eyes. They were so wide and honest and loving. She sensed that he really felt that she was the only other person in the whole world right then and there. Part of her was melting.

"...and you would make me the happiest man in the world if you would marry me," he finished. His thumb was moving back and forth, caressing her hand. His grip had tightened on her possessively as he said the last words.

Mouse hesitated. Tania would think it was part of the show, a good acting job, but it wasn't. Mouse didn't expect to feel this moved, to feel this much emotion. She knew this wasn't real, but the thrill was unbelievable. Her brother, her big brother, her lover, the best lover she had ever had, the only man she had truly wanted for a decade, had asked her to marry her. 

After years of longing and fighting and secret, stunted lust, he wanted to marry her. Suddenly the restaurant was gone for Mouse as well, the world for her had shrunk to her brother's beautiful brown eyes, and his hands encompassing hers, and a small, magical ring pressing into her palm.

"Yes, yes, yes," she said, too enthusiastically. It wasn't how she had wanted it to come out, how she'd rehearsed her answer. She'd wanted to tease him, to play with him, to make a fun game of it, at his expense. That was what she'd planned. But when the time came, she rushed to say yes. 

As quickly as she said it, a camera flash went off, as one of her friends captured the moment for her, another picture for her collection.

Mouse felt him take the ring with his fingers. She resisted letting it go at first. In a nervous panic she remembered that he had to put it on her finger. She kept her eyes locked on his as he did it, and he did the same, feeling his way through the motion. She saw love and longing, with a twinkle of pride in his eyes. She felt the ring slip smoothly onto her hand, just as it had when she'd tried it on the day before. She looked down at the ring on her finger.

Her heart jumped at the sight of it. Her heart would have jumped anyway, just to see the ring as proof of the romance she was feeling.

But it wasn't Alicia's sister's ring.

It was something else, something even more beautiful, with a stone at least as large, maybe larger, and with intricate engraving in the gold.

"Do you like it?" Michael asked uncertainly.

A blazing smile took over Mouse's face. Her eyes sparkled, but were wrapped in confusion and shock.

"Oh, Michael, it's beautiful, it's fantastic. Can I keep it?" she asked, completely forgetting the game. She heard light laughter float in from the tables around them, not all from her friends, reminding her that they weren't alone.

"Of course you can, you said yes," he answered, glancing around at the other patrons nervously, as if they could now guess that a charade was being played.

"I mean, really, can I keep it?" she asked again, not caring what other people thought. It was too beautiful. She wanted it too dearly.

"Yes," Michael said firmly, smiling, and returned to his seat. "It's yours. Forever."

Mouse looked, with a quizzical tip of her head, at Tania. Tania shrugged and raised her eyebrows, signaling her own confusion.

"I ran to the jeweler down the street while you were showering," Michael whispered. "I just picked the prettiest thing I could afford from the case. I used that other ring for sizing. There was no way I was giving you a ring you had to give back," he explained, his eyes twinkling.

Mouse was in shock. She studied the ring. The stone was definitely larger than the other. The ring was beautiful. She didn't know what to say, but she knew what she wanted to do. In a moment she was in Michael's lap. She took his face in her hands, and looked deeply into his eyes. 

She wanted to kiss him deeply, passionately, but they'd never done that, they'd never demonstrated that much affection in front of other people. She still couldn't bring herself to do it now, not even as part of the game, not even though she felt like it wasn't a game, like it was so real that she was losing control.

Not even though she felt that she'd never loved a man this much in her entire life.

She settled for a quick peck on the lips, then buried her head in his shoulder. Around them, the waitresses and patrons in the restaurant were applauding politely. She nuzzled his ear to whisper confidentially to him.

"You are going to have the best night of your life tonight, lover," she promised.

* * *

As they left the restaurant people at various tables, complete strangers, congratulated them. One elderly couple went on at length about how wonderful marriage was, how long they'd been married and how many children and grandchildren they now had. This last was a bit unsettling, given their shameless masquerade. Michael and Mouse both felt guilty as they listened, trying to extract themselves politely, as if they were somehow abusing this friendly couple with their childish game. After they were alone on the street, however, they giggled and laughed mischievously about it.

Mouse slipped violently on the slick walk. She almost crashed to the ground, but Michael was there and quick enough to catch her. She muttered to him about how silly she was to wear high heels after a snow storm, that she'd lived there long enough to know better. She hadn't wanted to ruin her outfit with clunky boots. Michael took her under his arm. He walked close to her from then on, almost holding her up, intent on keeping the wind and snow and all danger well away from her.

As he walked with her small figure under his arm, Michael felt strangely light. It had been such a burden, entering the restaurant, sitting down, eating a meal, all the time knowing that he had an embarrassing, daunting task awaiting him. Yet once he'd started it came easily. It was something, he realized only then, that he really wanted to do. It felt good. It felt right. He looked down at Mouse, and wished somehow that it could have been real. Yet even knowing it wasn't, that it was all a lie, he didn't feel discomfited by it at all. He felt young.

It was a very different experience from his first marriage proposal. He'd entered into that just as nervous, maybe more so. But even after she had said yes, he didn't feel this way. He'd felt elated at first, more because it was over than because she'd said yes. But after that, he'd quickly felt burdened again. 

He'd had kept asking himself questions. Had he made the right decision? Was he going to regret it? If he'd known the answers that time would bring, that it would end in years of torment and divorce, he would have run away. He would never have gone through with it.

Maybe that was the difference this time, he thought. There was nothing to go through with. There was no real risk.

It was all just a game.

But it was turning out to be a fun game.

They hustled up to her apartment to get dry and warm. As soon as they were both inside, Mouse closed the apartment door behind her and loudly set the bolt. She immediately let her long winter coat slide off her shoulders to the floor.

Michael had already admired the dress she was wearing, both before they'd left and over dinner. It looked even sexier now, in the dim light of the room, after the evening's entertaining theater. It was a simple, tight, hip hugging black dress that ended just below her knees, but exposed the bare flesh of her delicious shoulders and the tops of her breasts. He'd been studying those breasts since she was seventeen, and never tired of them, or of any of her.

Mouse threw her purse to the ground with her coat. She stepped over them toward Michael, backing him toward the coach. He took his cue and sat down, while she hiked the skirt up just enough to straddle him there. Once positioned on his lap she rested her arms on his shoulders, leaned her forehead against his, and stared into his eyes.

"Are you ready for me, lover?" she breathed to him, kissing him quickly, gently on the bridge of his nose.

Michael answered with a quick kiss on her half parted lips. She responded with all of the force and soft, warm, wet passion he expected. In moments her tongue was in his mouth, searching, probing, finding his tongue to draw it out and into her. Michael moved his hands to her waist, enjoying the sense that his hands themselves could almost encircle her if he tried. She was so tiny next to him. She was his little mouse. He let his hands slide away toward the small of her back, then trace the exquisite curve of her ass out then back again, under her thighs.

Mouse hummed in satisfaction at his touch, and then tipped her head back, offering her neck to him. He readily accepted. He covered the exposed flesh with wet, full-mouth kisses mixed with small nibbles with his teeth. His hands stopped stroking her ass to change direction, moving to the tops of her thighs, up her hips, up her waist, to find the delicate breasts he adored. He caressed and squeezed them gently, slowly, as if exploring them for the first time. He pulled his mouth from her neck so he could lean back to admire her body as his hands wandered where they wished.

Mouse watched him intently as he watched her, clearly enjoying the fact that he reveled in her body. She moved her hands up to her hair, lifting it up onto her head, lifting her breasts up and out at the same time. She preened and stretched, exaggerating her curves for him by bending this way and that. Mouse added a chorus of soft sighs and coos. Michael was sure they were there for his pleasure, not hers. She was all about him, tonight.

He was getting the best end of this deal, he thought to himself as he relaxed and enjoyed his sister's body. Not just tonight, but their whole relationship. She was young, agile, athletic. She was beautiful, sexy and vibrant. He was now just past forty, bald, hairy, and heading towards dumpy. 

He wasn't horribly out of shape yet. Actually, he had been worse off when they'd started, but his affair with Mouse had motivated him. He'd since joined two basketball leagues, playing again for the first time in ten years. He'd already lost five pounds. The excess fat was coming off slowly, to be replaced with muscle. He felt strong, now, and somewhat agile himself, if a man over six feet tall could ever be considered agile.

But he was still not in Mouse's league. She was young and beautiful and vibrant, an exquisite dancer, an artist and a flirt. She deserved a young, handsome man, not one with too large a nose, no hair on his head, too much hair everywhere else, and too little personality to make up the difference.

He was boring, he knew. Unadventurous. Not the wittiest. Quiet in a group. Reluctant to dance, or to join in anything too frivolous.

He was frumpy.

Michael looked into Mouse's eyes, and she looked concerned, as if she could read his thoughts and see his self doubts. He smiled at her to hide them, and kissed her deeply again. But while he did, he was thinking to himself, this couldn't last. It was fun now, but she had to find someone better, she deserved someone better, someone younger. This was great for Michael, but not for her. 

And he needed her to be happy. He wished dearly that he could really marry her, that he could selfishly keep her for himself forever. Only he couldn't keep her happy, so it could never work.

Still, this wedding to Mouse was just a game, a marvelously fun game while it lasted.

As if she could sense that his mind was wandering, Mouse abruptly slid off of his lap to stand before him. She took a step back. She reached behind her to slowly, deliberately unzip her dress. When it was partially free she didn't let it fall to the ground. Instead she simply let the fabric at the bust loosen and drop a bit, exposing her erect nipples to him. Then she took up her position on his lap again, where she guided one nipple into his waiting mouth.

Mouse purred as he felt the hot, hard flesh of her nipple meet first his own wet, hot tongue, then his lips and teeth. Her nipples were so marvelous. The heat and firmness radiated a youth and energy all by themselves. Her breasts, though small, were soft and firm and supple. Michael had always thought them magnificent, even when she was a teenager, when he first began to feel his lust for her.

"There's another rule I have to tell you about, lover," she whispered huskily.

"mm hmm," Michael replied, his mouth now opening wide to suck as much of her tit as he could. While he did so, he tickled the tip of her nipple quickly with his tongue, drawing a satisfied, deep throated giggle from Mouse.

"You can't come inside me until we're married," Mouse said, taking his head in her hands and pulling him harder into her breast.




Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 01



Michael froze. He released her with his mouth. He couldn't resist giving a quick kiss to the tit he hadn't yet given a fair share of attention, but then he leaned back.

"I don't like that rule," he said sternly.

"Sorry, dear, but I make all of the rules," his little sister said, trying to sound stern herself. The high, sex-excited pitch in her voice betrayed her.

Michael noticed that she hadn't referred to them as brother and sister for a while. Since he'd proposed, he was "lover" and "dear" and "baby", not "big brother" and "darling brother". At first, he'd thought it was just a residue from their public act, but now it seemed it might be something more.

"Why not?" he asked. "Why this rule?"

"Well," Mouse said, lingering on the pair of L's, as if there were more. "I like the idea of torturing you, for one. Second, good girls do not let their boyfriends fuck them before they are married, and while I can't claim to be a virgin, at least I can keep your dirty little seed out of me until you've paid for the goods, so to speak." 

She was playing with him, he knew, but he didn't mind. So far, the game had been fun, and she'd been making all the rules so far. He could go along with it for now. If it became too much, he knew he could come in her, whether she liked it or not. It might even be fun to feel her struggling to stop him.

"It will be fun, for both of us, I promise," she continued, now exploring his shoulders and chest with her fingers. She looked him in the eye again. "It's going to be just as hard on me, having my lover leave me empty at that last, final, wonderful moment, when I want you most." 

She leaned forward to kiss him again, deeply, but slipped off his lap as she did so. She walked slowly away from him, toward the bedroom, making sure to wiggle her ass temptingly. Mouse knew how to walk away from a man. As she did so, she reached back to finish lowering the zipper on the dress. It had fallen completely to the floor before she had reached the hall, where she hesitated a moment, naked except for the high heels and stockings. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"Are you coming?" she asked in a sexy little girl voice, then turned without waiting and disappeared into the darkness.

Michael got up to follow her, dropping his own clothes behind him like a bread crumb trail, while trying not to seem hurried and eager. He reached the bedroom in time to see Mouse, her back still to him, kneel forward onto the bed and crawl, on all fours, away from him. She did it slowly, catlike, with a feline swish of the tail that seemed to grab and pull his cock toward it. 

He watched the smooth skin of her ass shining in the half light, and the dark patch of hair in the middle undulating gently. He thought he could see glistening red pink in the middle, each time she moved her legs, as her cunt opened momentarily to show him the forbidden pleasures it held inside.

As she reached the far edge of the bed, she twisted slowly onto her back. At first she spread her legs, then she pulled them tightly together and crossed her ankles. She eyed Michael's cock as he approached, biting one lip in restraint.

Michael stood at the side of the bed, towering over his sister's beautiful, young body.

"I've never been fucked by my fiancee, before," Mouse said, looking past his cock into his eyes.

She sat up at the side of the bed. She took his cock in her hand, almost completing a circle around it with only her thumb and middle finger. She held the other fingers away, keeping only those two in contact. He saw a small spark of light reflect off the ring. She started at the base of his cock, as she pulled her hand slowly toward her, softly, very softly caressing him.

"This is the last cock I'll ever get to have," she said, looking into his eyes. Michael couldn't read her thoughts. She looked part lust-driven slut, part frightened little puppy, and part innocent little girl. Whatever it was, the expression made his cock surge and stiffen more.

"I said yes," Mouse continued dreamily, then looked down at his cock head. As her hand reached the end, she moved her lips close, almost touching. She stuck her tongue out, placing the tip under his cock head, using it to hold his cock in place as she released her hand and moved it back to its starting point at the base. Then she pulled her tongue back while her two fingers, again encircling him, began the slow, teasing path back toward the head.

"I said yes," Mouse repeated. "So this is the only cock I'll ever get to hold again. This is the only cock that will ever fuck me."

Michael wished that it were true. She was so beautiful, sitting there, for him. She made him feel more manly, and more desirable, than any woman ever had. He never felt so strong or wanted, and he could do things to Mouse, with Mouse, that he simply never could with any other woman. She made him hard so easily, and he stayed hard for so long. 

It took a tremendous act of will every time they made love. He always wanted it to last. He needed it to last. He needed to make sure that his little sister came for him. Michael needed to know, each time he made love to his little sister, that it was for both of them, that it was good for both of them. It could never be just for him, he couldn't ever leave her unsatisfied, or else he would feel dirty and cruel. He'd feel as if he'd used her; as if he'd used his power over her to masturbate into her.

"I said yes, I said I would marry you," Mouse said again. "So now this is the only cock I'll ever have, and now mine is the only pussy this cock will ever know."

With that, she released him and leaned back onto the bed. She pulled herself further away, toward the center. She spread her legs this time, and pulled her knees up to open herself wide.

"I want to feel my fiancee's cock in my promised pussy now, Michael. I want to enjoy the first fuck with the last cock I'll ever know."

Michael looked at her and hesitated. He was dying, aching to plunge into her, to fuck her wildly. She'd teased him enough. He did enjoy the game. But his thoughts were so conflicted. Did he enjoy the game? He loved the thought of marrying her, of keeping her from everyone else, of being her lifelong protector and lover and husband. He felt guilty, knowing that he wasn't good enough, knowing that she should have someone better, younger, someone that could really make her happy. He felt guilty, too. He knew the real reason he couldn't have her was because she was his little sister, his darling baby sister.

And he felt sad, knowing that this was only a game, that it wasn't real. He knew they weren't getting married. He knew that his wasn't the last cock she would ever have. It was far from it, and it was a cruel thought to play with.

"Oh, god, Jeff, fill me with that big, black cock!"

The words came loudly through the bedroom wall, muffled, barely intelligible, but they could both make them out.

"God, Jeff, yes, I want your sweet black cock, I only want your black cock!"

Michael and Mouse both fought the smiles creeping onto their faces, followed by self-conscious chuckles as the sexual tension snapped in the room and vanished.

"Do you hear that often?" Michael asked.

"Sometimes, yes. It can be unbearable, listening to them go at it while I'm all alone. Though sometimes it makes it easier to masturbate. Mostly they stay at Jeff's place, thank God. But Tania's a real, dirty screamer."

"I think she likes black cock," Michael observed offhandedly, like a sports announcer.

"She seems to, yes," Mouse answered in the same intellectual tone.

"Wait a minute," Michael said in realization. "If we can hear them, has Tania heard us?"

Mouse held his eyes a moment, then closed hers and leaned back.

"Sometimes, yes. She heard our 'daddy' game a few months ago. She told me the next day. She liked it," Mouse added with emphasis, opening her eyes to gauge Michael's reaction.

"She hasn't mentioned anything else, though," Mouse said to set him at ease. "If she has, I'm sure she thinks that's a game as well."

"Do you want me to lick her pussy now, Jeff? Will you keep fucking me if I lick it?" The words drifted into the room, sparing them both the need to continue this line of conversation.

"What a slut! Interracial bisexual, my kind of girl," Michael said.

"You like that, don't you?" Mouse teased. He looked at her face, and he couldn't read it. Michael wasn't sure if the question was accusing, or being filed away for later use.

"I've had my threesome fantasies," he answered non-committally.

"Only fantasies?" Mouse asked, sitting up, eyeing him.

"Oh, God Jeff, Mona's pussy tastes so good. Taste it with me!"

Michael's eyes widened in shock. He looked down at Mouse with a grin.

"She's licking your pussy in there?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, she does that a lot, too" Mouse said, just a bit sheepishly. "Says it, I mean, not does it. She claims she says it for Jeff, to turn him on. It is for him, mostly, I think."

"Mostly?" Michael asked, using his turn to sound both accusing and curious.

"Tania says that Jeff is hot for me," Mouse continued, "that he wants to have a threesome. Tania tells him that I'm all tied up with you, that it's not going to happen, but he keeps hoping, and she plays a constant game with him to keep him aroused. I think she's afraid of losing him."

"But she has no interest?" Michael asked, actually wondering if Mouse had any interest.

"Oh, I think she does. She touches me whenever she can, sits close, that kind of thing. But she's being coy, being careful."

"And you?" Michael asked flatly.

Mouse looked at him. She moved again to the edge of the bed, sitting so her head was close to his cock. She moved her hands to just brush the sides of his thighs. She waved her head, eyes closed, from one side to the other, just flicking his now softening cock with her nose.

"I only want this cock, nothing else. No other cock, no black cock, no blonde pussy. Just my lover's cock, my fiancee's cock."

She opened her mouth then to take him, looking up into his eyes. He felt his cock begin to stiffen immediately. All of his muscles tightened. He held his breath. He waited for her to do it, to take his cock in her sweet, precious mouth. Then she stood abruptly and glided out of the room.

"Come on," she said without turning, "let's go somewhere quieter."

* * *

Back in the living room, she waited for him, kneeling on the floor. She had spread her knees, and pushed her ass back, so that her pussy ground itself into the throw rug. She wiggled slowly, rubbing her cunt on the floor, as if fucking the rug while she waited for him.

He expected her to tease him more. He was disappointed. As soon as he was close enough she lunged forward, taking his cock in her mouth in one giant swallow. The heat of it coursed through Michael in a moment, spreading quickly through his balls and stomach, back to his ass and up into his chest, and down into his legs. It was as if, in that moment, she had swallowed him whole. She had taken his entire body into her burning, loving mouth.

Michael stood rock still as she bobbed and sucked and ravaged his cock. At times she stopped and jerked it fiercely, almost painfully. It was almost as if she were trying to rip it free, to keep it as a trophy. Other times she fell on it with her mouth, diving on it just as fast and fiercely, trying to get it more deeply into her throat than he could go.

Michael stood, loving every moment, but still foolishly distracted by his thoughts and guilt. The light, airy happiness he'd felt earlier in the night was leaving him, replaced by a brooding awareness of everything he lacked, or was going to lose. His little sister's mouth felt so amazing on him. She was so perfect. She was so into him. He touched her hair with his finger tips, gently, not wishing to interfere with her fantastic quest to suck his own life out through his cock.

"That's it, baby sister, suck your big brother's cock," he said. He felt as if his voice came out of nowhere, as if he were somewhere else, listening to someone else talking with his voice.

She bit him then, lightly, but purposely.

"''Fiancee, lover boy," she corrected sternly, letting his cock leave her mouth just long enough to make the words.

Michael closed his eyes and lost himself again in her mouth. She felt so good. She made him feel so good. Every minute with her was amazing. Every minute with her made the rest of his life seem so dull and empty. Her mouth was the only thing in existence now. It was the only thing of importance. 

He felt his cock stiffening further, as the cum worked its way out toward his little sister's waiting throat. He wanted badly to feel the release, to show his love for his sister by emptying himself into her loving mouth. But he felt the guilt, too. He sensed the danger that if he didn't please her, if he didn't work to make her feel as he did, that he would lose her.

Michael put his thumbs firmly on Mouse's forehead. He pushed her head back, yanking his cock from her lips.

"I have to fuck you now, baby. I need to fuck you."

Mouse looked up at him, eyes mixed with disappointment and happiness. She leaned slowly back to the floor, spreading her legs invitingly, eagerly.

"Take me, Michael. It's yours. It's only for you. Take your fiancee's hot cunt for your own," she squealed. "Make me love the only cock I can ever have. Give me the last cock I'll ever feel."

He didn't wait. He didn't care about seeming over eager. He was mindlessly driven by lust, now, and quickly drove his cock into her. She took him easily, though he wasn't gentle. He forced himself in to the hilt, as far as he could, and further still, sliding her along the floor with the force of his first thrust.

She yelled, then, with an incoherent animal cry. No one listening could tell if he was pleasuring her or murdering her. They only knew that she felt something intense, something that drove all thought and intelligence from her mind, turning her into a sweating, rutting creature of lust.

Michael pounded into her with hard, fast strokes, trying in moments to bring her to the place she had brought him, to the edge of orgasm. He was usually so gentle with her, strong, but slow and careful; always holding back a bit, always trying to keep himself in control, to be the big brother in control, to never hurt her.

Not this time. She'd taken him too far. He'd waited too long. He was overcome with his passions. He was out of his mind with the need to fill her sweet wet pussy with cock and cum, to cover her with his sweat and his smell and his mouth. His mouth raged over her neck, slobbering over her, raking her with hot, wet spit, never lingering, always wandering aimlessly, frantically running his tongue and lips over and over her neck, her ears, her shoulders, her tits, her nipples, her collar bone. He wished he could reach further, he wished his body could contort inhumanly so he could find her ass and her legs and her cunt with his mouth while he fucked her.

She could feel it, too, she could feel his wild abandon. His passion flowed into her almost as quickly as he wished it to.

"Oh, yes, Michael," she cried, sounding as if tears would come with the words, "give it to me, give me the last cock I'll ever have."

His mouth found hers. He drove his tongue into her, fucking her mouth wildly, like his cock fucked her cunt. His mouth wandered ruthlessly across her lips and face, raping her. She tried to keep up, she tried to find his mouth with hers, but he was too quick, too crazy, too lost.

"No other woman can ever do this with you, Michael," Mouse whispered into his ear. "You can never do this to any other woman, only to me. I'm your fiancee, I'm going to be your wife, and you can only do this to me."

Michael felt his cock stiffen again, he felt the surge coming, unstoppable. He tried desperately to hold it back, to hold it in, to keep going.

"Oh, baby sis.." he started to say. Mouse grabbed his head ruthlessly with her hands and pulled his mouth onto hers, killing his words with a kiss. She drove her tongue deeply into his mouth, fucking him back, fucking him with her tongue the way he was fucking her cunt. 

She broke the kiss.

"I'll make you happy, Michael, I promise I'll make you happy," Mouse said, taking Michael's thoughts and words from him, promising him what he wanted to give to her. "I'll be your wife and I'll always fuck you, only you. I'll always be a wild little slut for only you." 

She'd promised him the one thing he knew she couldn't give. She'd promised to allay his greatest fear. She'd promised him that he would never lose her. His cock stiffened again. He felt the cum gathering inside his shaft, swelling it to the point of bursting.

"Remember the rules!" Mouse yelled abruptly. "You can't come in me, it's a rule!" she shouted.

She'd reached down between them to grab his cock at the base, pushing him out, dexterously slipping away underneath him. Her hand was hot against his skin, except for the one, narrow cold strip from the metal band of the diamond ring on her finger. 

He somehow found the will to obey her, to pull out, and then he came. She squeezed his cock like a hose, so his blast of cum shot up across her body, past her tits to her neck. He'd never done that before, he'd never imagined that he could. He rammed his cock into her hands, wishing it was her sweet, wet hole. She squeezed him perfectly, with her delicate, masterful hands. He shot a load again, not as far, landing on her nipples.

She propped herself up on one elbow, still holding his cock, as she let a wicked grin slink its way onto her mouth. She stared at his cum on her, panting. She leaned back, never releasing his cock, so he had to slide forward with her motion. Mouse ran her free hand under her tit, through the cum, spreading it over her body, up her neck, and into her waiting mouth.

She laughed then, and made a theatrical "hmm" sound as she tasted it. She let her hand fall back to her body, where it began an endless, wandering trek, searching everywhere for drops of slick, hot cum.

"I love fiancee cum," she said. "I think it's my favorite. At least, until I get to taste husband cum."

Then she kissed him. He hovered over her, letting her continue to gyrate under him, spreading his cum evilly with her hands. He held the kiss for as long as he could, giving his mouth to her, trying to pour himself into her. He shifted his weight to his elbows, so he could grab her petite shoulders in his hands. 

His fingers dug furrows into her flesh with a ferocity he couldn't control. After a moment he lowered his bulk onto her, pressing her into the floor, gripping her tightly to keep her from ever leaving him. His heart thundered when he felt her own arms and legs snake around to embrace him, squeezing lightly and imprisoning him as thoroughly as he had imprisoned her.

His mind wandered as they kissed. How would it end, he wondered. Would there be tears and tantrums, or just painful disinterest? Afterward, long afterward, would they dance a parody of a minuet around a room whenever they were forced together, shyly avoiding each other and the memory of all of this? Would they at least return to bickering and fighting, and recapture the hidden, deflected lust they'd shared for so many years? Would she hate him? Would she abhor him like he abhorred is ex-wife? 

He couldn't bear any of these thoughts, and kissed Mouse all the more ferociously while thinking them.

He would have to let her go, he thought. He wished he could be the man she needed, but he feared he couldn't. In the end, he had to let her go, and maybe soon, before it all ended badly. He couldn't bear to lose her completely, to have her shut him out, in either shame or hatred. She was his little sister, his perfect little sister. He loved her and he needed to keep her safe. He had to protect her. He needed to find a way to make her happy.




Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 02



8> Thursday: Engagement

The night had gone badly.

Understatement, Mouse fumed to herself. Gone badly. The cock sucking bastard. The sister fucking cock sucking bastard.

She stomped through the snow toward her apartment, with Michael carefully staying a single half step behind her, like a giant shadow just over her shoulder. She could feel his discomfort, his tension.

Good, she thought. Bastard. Feel like shit. Feel the way you made me feel, she raged.

The evening had started nicely enough, an engagement party for Michael and Mona, with all of her friends. She gleefully made the rounds through Alicia's apartment. She beamed as she showed them all her ring, one by one, and they oohed and grinned with mostly feigned jealously. Their eyes always went wide when they learned it wasn't a prop, that he had really bought it for her. Then the jealousy became real. 

No one voiced it except Alicia, but they were all thinking the same thing. Was it real, not just a real diamond, but maybe even intended to be a real engagement ring? Maybe he was ready to ask for real. Maybe the game wasn't necessary, or it would unexpectedly change from a game to the real thing. There was a buzz throughout the room.

Cock sucking bastard, she thought again, fumbling with her keys in her fury, trying to open the security door.

They had all gotten drunk. They'd all danced. Michael was timid and stiff, of course. He graced her with one dance, then she let him off the hook. After that, Mona only danced with other women, mostly Alicia and Tania. She commanded the dance floor, as she always did, and she could feel every man's eyes on her. It always happened. She made it happen, and she had always loved it. But this time it made her uncomfortable. 

She didn't want them to look at her. Only Michael, only he should look. And most of them didn't just look, they blatantly leered, even if they didn't realize it. She usually reveled in that, in stealing other women's men, at least in their fantasies, with her dancing. But not this time. This time her motion, her erotic, luring movements, were all for Michael, all for her brother Michael. She wanted the rest of them to look away.

Jeff spent a lot of time talking to Michael. It started early in the evening. The two of them were almost the same height. Jeff's very dark, black african features contrasted sharply with Michael's pale, bald head. She watched them talking, looking at her, leaning conspiratorially close to each other exchanging comments. She could feel Jeff making lewd suggestions. She could feel it in her blood. She hoped Michael was defending her honor.

And that was a silly thing to think, she thought, raping herself in self punishment. Mouse stormed up the stairwell, distractedly watching the wet prints she left on each stair. She had eschewed the elevator and the need to wait for it with her brother. This was easier on both of them.

Like Michael would defend his incestuous sister slut, she thought as she climbed. Like he would defend her, knowing the way she went around sucking and fucking her brother's cock at every opportunity. Of course he didn't defend her. She was a slut, and he had no room to argue. She had no right to protest. But he still should have defended her. He was her brother, and he should have defended her.

But he didn't. She knew he didn't. 

At the end of the last dance Mouse had wandered over to talk to Tania, to pretend to talk to her, but actually to listen in on what Jeff and Michael were saying. Tania did as always with Mona, she moved in close. She immediately brought their bodies and faces close together, as if she had no sense of personal space, or as if they were lovers and their space was supposed to be shared. They joked and laughed, and with each laugh Tania brought a hand up to brush Mona's arm, or to helpfully brush her hair out of her face, or to grab and hold Mona's hand for a tad longer than a brief second. It was admittedly erotic. Mouse often enjoyed their little sport, but not tonight.

"She's a hot little piece," Mona had heard Jeff say. Michael muttered something non-committal.

He could have at least agreed with that, Mouse fumed. She opened her apartment door and threw her coat and bag across the room as hard as she could. If he wouldn't defend her, he could at least boast about her.

"Tania likes her," Jeff had said. Tania had leaned close, as if on cue, to whisper something inane directly into Mouse's ear. Her pretense was the noise of the party, but Mouse had felt her hot breath tickling her earlobe. It felt as if Tania's mouth was just moments from flicking her ear with her tongue. Mona resented it, because it kept her from hearing Jeff and Michael.

"She likes her a lot," Jeff continued. Mouse thought Jeff knew she was listening, that he was saying this partly for her benefit. "Tania thinks she could set her off the same way she hears you do it, through the walls."

Mouse could hear the grin in Jeff's voice. She wanted to slap him. She wished she could turn and see Michael's expression, too. To see if he was angry or jealous or turned on.

"Tania thinks she could make Mona squeal and squirm and beg," Jeff elaborated. "She's sure of it, and she's itching to try."

There was a pause, while Michael considered it. He was considering it. At their engagement party. Mouse felt her anger growing.

"Tell me the truth, man to man," Jeff asked, lowering his voice, but not enough to hide his words from Mouse. "You don't have to, but I have to ask. Has she ever had a black cock? Has she ever admitted that she wanted one?"

He asked the question like everyone knew that the answer was yes. It was always yes. Mouse had heard Michael's hesitation. Don't answer, she'd thought. Don't answer.

"Yes," he answered quietly, at least appearing uncomfortable with the question. "I know she has."

Mouse could almost hear Jeff's eyebrows raise, she could almost hear the blood pounding and filling his cock at the thought. She could hear him already fucking her in his mind, telling her that she loved his big black cock better than Michael's. They were both being bastards.

"You know, you could come over and watch Tania get her going," Jeff said, almost with disinterest, like it was just some polite offer to come over and watch a ball game.

"Once they get far enough along, you could give Tania a try," he continued, his deep voice only a half whisper. "She's a sweet, tight little blonde. She'll give you a taste of what you'd miss if it were a real wedding."

"She is a hot one," Michael had said, this time without any sign of hesitation.

A hot one. The fucking, fucking bastard, Mouse thought. A taste of what he'd miss if he married her. If he really married her. If it were real.

She tore her dress off and left it lying on her bedroom floor. Michael stayed carefully away in the kitchen. She ripped through her drawers to pull out a black dance leotard. She didn't have any clean tights, so she left her legs bare and pulled on knitted leg warmers. They were rainbow colored, a silly pair she'd had since college. They didn't suit her mood, but they did the job. She needed to get out. Now.

"I don't think we know how hot we could get her," Jeff had gone further. "I'll bet if we double teamed her, both at once, with Tania helping too, we could make her scream so loud that everyone in the building would hear her."

Mouse was out of her bedroom already. She pulled on her boots, stuffed some dance slippers into her coat pockets, and was out the door again. Michael followed hastily. She snarled at him to stay away. He still came. She tried to sprint down the stairwell to escape him.

She could remember the first times she had felt jealousy about Michael, even before she knew what it was. In high school, her girlfriends all fawned over him. They all tried to sit next to him. When they came over, they looked about nonchalantly to see if he was around. They thought they were being so subtle, and they weren't. It pissed Mona off then, the way they tried to latch onto him and draw him in with them. She wanted him to stay away, and she wanted them to stay away from her brother. She didn't completely know why. She didn't understand what they saw in him. 

He was just her dorky big brother. He was fun to fantasize about, sometimes, for her, but he was a dork. She'd guessed that to them he was cool, a much older guy with a car and an apartment and a job. He represented something none of the guys in high school could match. He was a man, not a boy. A dorky man, to Mona, but a man.

Mouse pushed through the security door, into the bitter cold night air, with Michael still at her heels. He'd run out without a coat to keep up. Serves the bastard right, she thought. Freeze.

"Mouse, stop," he ordered, but with a whine in his voice. "Where are you going? It's too late for you to go out alone."

"Oh, so you're going to protect me, now?" she screamed back at him, still striding away. "Big Brother is going to keep Little Sister safe, instead of fucking her like a sex toy?" She had screamed that part, too, only louder and more shrilly. Her voice was cracking near the end.

At that moment, Jeff and Tania came around the corner, arm in arm. She could see in their faces that they had heard every word. She didn't care, and pushed her way between them, separating them momentarily. She heard Michael mumble an apology as he hurried to keep up with her.

In college, Mouse had understood her own self better. By then she'd been fantasizing about her brother constantly. Once she'd gone away to school, and couldn't see him at all, he wasn't just an occasional fantasy lover like he'd been in high school. He was her only fantasy lover. She couldn't get off thinking about anyone else, and she didn't try. That was when she first started imagining that other lovers were him. That was when she first picked out guys at frat parties, took them home, fucked them silly and screamed his name in her mind as she came.

And that one time that he came to college to help get her home for the summer, that one time the jealousy had broken through like a fever. Her girlfriends at college were just like the sluts at home, but worse, because they were all whores that might actually do something with him. They flirted and strutted. They pawed at him, the tall, older man out of college with more than a real job, with a career. He still wasn't cute, he was just a guy, but the kind of guy they couldn't have. So that was what they wanted. 

She saw how they let their tits accidentally brush up against his back or his arms, and how they'd play a silent game of maneuver with each other to see which of them could wind up next to him. The winner would move in so close that he could smell them.

When she finally got them both into the car that day, all packed, finally alone, with her college friends receding in the rear view mirror, she celebrated her victory. She did it the only way she knew how, by tormenting him and fighting with him for the whole twelve hour drive. She looked at him, right there beside her, wishing she could touch him, wishing she could just rape him. 

She couldn't, so instead she told him how silly he'd acted. She teased him by asking if he really thought they had liked him, and by telling him that they flirted with him just to make fun of him. Sh'de told him they were probably back there right now, laughing at him.

Mouse turned the corner through the snow, into a biting winter wind. She ducked her head low for protection, and bulled ahead toward the dance studio. She began to fumble in her pockets for the key.

To break up the long drive, they'd had to stop for dinner, and then for the night. Michael had wanted to keep going, to get the drive over with as quickly as possible. Mouse insisted they stop at a motel and continue in the morning. They couldn't afford two rooms, so they got one room with twin beds. Michael put on a goofy pair of old-man pajamas and quickly crawled into bed. Mouse teased him about how goony he looked. He rolled away from her to insult her by immediately falling asleep.

So Mouse had laid there, staring at him in the dark room. She'd let her hand slide down into her pussy, and imagined herself over in her brother's bed, cuddling up to him, then feeling his hand slipping down into her wet cunt. She'd imagined her brother's smell, and the feel of his body. She'd imagined him losing control and taking her, forcing himself into her as she protested feebly. She came at least four times that night, unable to stop, unable to rest, obsessed with the act of bringing herself to orgasm in the same room as her big brother, even if he couldn't be the one doing it to her. It was, to her, the first night he'd made love to her. He was so achingly close. 

She'd always regretted that night. It was her one chance, the chance that always haunted her. She should have gotten out of her bed, climbed in with him and made love to him then. She should have made him want her, made him take her. She could have, and she should have. But she hadn't.

Mouse found the key to the dance studio. She quickly unlocked and opened the door. She tried to get in and slam it behind her before Michael could follow, but his foot wedged itself in. She immediately gave up fighting him. Fucking son of a bitch bastard, she thought, climbing the stairs in threes. Go watch Tania.

Not long after their night in the motel, Michael had met his wife and was soon married. It was as if her fantasy had been stomped on, killed dead and buried with a wedding ceremony instead of a funeral. Mouse hated that day. She hated the memory. Shed known she was being an utter terror to both Michael and his wife, but had made no effort to restrain herself. 

She'd stormed around insulting everything. She'd also hung fecklessly on every guy she met, as if doing so might make Michael jealous enough to call off the wedding and end Mouse's torment. She hadn't seriously believed it, but she at least had hoped that in the end she might find a lover good enough to take her mind off of her brother. That would show him. And maybe it was meant to be. 

Maybe her destiny was to lose her brother-lover and find true love all in the same day, at his wedding.

Once in the dance studio, Mouse ripped off her coat and dripping boots and pulled on her dance slippers. She fumbled with them, too, in her hurry to get moving. She didn't bother to look for any particular music, she just hit power and play on the CD player, trusting to whatever disc was left in it. It was something fast and frenetic. Good. 

Fucking prick, she thought. Let's use little sister for an orgy.

She started moving immediately, dancing her way to the center of the room. She purposely danced too fast, still in rhythm with the music, but making two or three motions for every beat, instead of one, squeezing in as much activity as she could with every note.

Michael stood near the door, looking lost and uncomfortable, an uninvited guest hovering near the exit. He was an audience of one without a ticket. Mouse tried to keep him out of her view, turning her back on him as much as she could, but she kept seeing him in the mirrors lining the walls of the room, or out of the corner of her eye as she turned. He was always there.

The night of her parent's anniversary party had been just like Michael's wedding, in a way. She still went from man to man, trying to make Michael jealous, and she could see that this time she was succeeding. 

Michael had been so lost and forlorn since the divorce. Mouse didn't understand why, because he didn't love his bitch ex-wife, and life with her had been hell long before they'd split. He should have been happy to get away. He should have enjoyed the change, the chance to escape and start over. Mouse was. Mouse was overjoyed. She'd eyed him the whole night, trying to constantly be in his way, trying to insert herself back into his life, now that her rival had foolishly surrendered and left the field of battle.

The song ended, and Mouse hadn't yet worked up a sweat. The next song was slower, more melancholy, but Mouse didn't care. She danced the way she felt. She imagined it must look comical, to see her whirring and zipping about at one speed, while the music played for a different show, for a different troop, to a different audience. She didn't care.

The bastard.

And then it had finally, amazingly happened. Years and years had passed, she had tried and failed, and then it had actually happened. She didn't know how. She didn't engineer it, at least not entirely. She wasn't in control. But neither was he.

He had kissed her. Her brother had kissed her.

The cock sucking bastard.

He'd kissed her and she'd instantly felt herself falling, shrinking into a tiny, helpless, little girl in his arms. His mouth was so rough and eager at first, so foolishly clumsy, but she didn't care. It felt wondrous. It was the most amazing kiss she'd ever had. Her fantasies paled into nothing. They seemed silly and frivolous, compared to the harsh, slamming reality of her brother's lips on hers.

She'd stood there, in his arms, feeling him force his lips against hers. As if he had to make her! As if she had any power or will to stop him. His hands were so strong and so large. With his fingers spread they seemed to cover her entire back. They felt like wings, folded down against her, as if she were an angel. He made her an angel. She lost herself in him, mostly. One small part of her was conscious of it all, frantic and panicked that at any moment it would end. This might be all she ever got, this one erotic, incestuous kiss.

Mouse began to use her hips more in her dance. She gyrated and pulsed, moving far faster than the music, making love to the song at her own pace, like a mistress urging her body to orgasm against her partner's own needs and wishes. She felt the sweat gathering above her sweatband, and in the crease of her cleavage. She saw Michael watching her, glowering at her from his corner. The fucking pig.

He had been kissing her that night, but that was all. It was marvelous, the tease of the beginnings of a dream come true, but that was all. Then she'd felt his cock pressing against her, growing larger. The thrill stunned her like the touch of ice on bare feet. She pressed against him, helpless to resist, aching to feel how large his bulge would get, aching to make it larger, to finally be the woman to do this to him, to make her brother feel the heat and excitement and lust that he'd made her feel all these long, torturous years.

Mouse glanced at Michael in the corner. She started to dance for him. She still burned with anger, but she wanted to tease him now, to torment him with what he would be missing. She fell into a long series of sexual gyrations, moving her hips and her legs, her ass and tits, her shoulders and neck, all in an effort to bring Michael to a slow burn. All to drive him into a fruitless lust, a passion to match her anger in its intensity. Prick.

When he'd moved her hands to his crotch that night, when he actually put his little sister's hands on his beautiful cock, she'd felt she was going to die. She knew then that she had done it, that she had finally broken through. She knew that no matter what, she would be his that night. She would find a way to get his cock inside her and he would finally discover that his little sister loved him in a way she never should but always had and always would. She had gotten his cock in her hands and she had sworn then and there that she would never let it go. His cock became hers.

Michael came towards her now. She still danced, but she faltered, as he left his spot and strode across the dance floor to her. She stopped her dance. Sweat poured down the sides of her face. She blew a sharp puff of air to push a stray lock of hair from her eyes. Her hands were on her hips, and her chest was pushed out not in enticement, as she so often did, but in defiance. She looked up into his face as he towered over her, daring him to try to apologize, daring him to say anything about how he had hurt her. She was daring him to make another mistake. Pig.




Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 02



He didn't say a word. It was so much like that first night, with the two of them staring at each other, one in fury, the other in fear. Except this time it was her anger that was burning, not his.

Michael's hands reached out and touched her shoulders. She shrugged him off, twisting more violently than was necessary. Her feet never moved. She wasn't going anywhere, but he wasn't touching her. She glared at him belligerently.

His hands grabbed her again, this time more forcefully. A crack echoed in the room as she slapped him, as hard as she could. He released her in surprise. Her own fingers tingled with the sting of the blow.

His hand took her arms this time, pinning them to her sides. He held her roughly, more strongly than she could resist. He pulled her into him. She pushed back weakly. Then his lips found hers, forcing her into an angry, unwanted kiss. His lips slavered all over her mouth. His tongue drove itself between her lips. She shook her head from side to side, trying to avoid the contact, but he held her tightly and continually forced his mouth on hers.

Inside she was melting, overwhelmed by the kiss, feeling like it was their first kiss, their first night all over again.

He released her lips, only her lips, for a moment.

"Get off of me, you fucking bastard. Let me go!" she screamed, hoping he wouldn't listen.

He didn't. One hand slid down to grab her ass crudely. His fingers spread wide, then squeezed her painfully, biting into the firm muscles in her buttocks. His other hand slid down the other side, doing the same to her other cheek. His hands spread her ass, exposing her anus. She fought down the thrill of the sensation. She loved his hands, almost more than anything. Suddenly he pulled her up, lifting her into the air where she couldn't escape him. His mouth found her neck to slobber all over her there, and then found her mouth again.

She could have avoided the kiss easily, but she didn't. She didn't, wouldn't kiss him back, but she let him force his mouth onto hers, force his tongue in with hers, breath his hot, alcoholic breaths into hers. She felt his cock, too, firm and straining against her pussy just as it had done that first night; exactly as it had done that first night. She felt the same wet warmth spreading through herself, too. She broke the kiss.

"You fucking pig," she sneered straight into his ear. "You son of a bitch pig, let me go."

He did. Mouse was stunned. He had simply let her go, dropping her to the floor. She bruised her ass as she landed, then scampered back, suddenly frightened. It hadn't hurt much, but it shocked her. And it did hurt. She glared up at him, not knowing which made her more angry, his behavior at the party or the fact that he had really dropped her and hurt her.

His hand went to his belt. He unbuckled it. For a moment Mouse was afraid that he might actually use it on her, intending to whip her with it. Michael quickly released the buckle to unzip his pants and drop them, and his underwear, to the ground. He stood over her, with his engorged cock held erect over her like a scimitar. 

He bent to roughly pick her up. She made a show of resisting, but she let him lift her, not just to her feet, but into the air again. He held her against him, supporting her ass with one hand, just as he had that first night. It was just like that first amazing night. His cock, now free of his pants, pressed wonderfully into her belly. She could feel it's heat and hardness and girth and length. She could feel it all perfectly.

It was happening again. Their first fuck was happening again.

They were face to face. Mouse screamed at him. "Don't you fuck me, you bastard. You can't fuck me. I hate you."

The words came out, and the passion was there, and on some level she meant it. But saying it was agony. Inside her body screamed at her to take him inside of her. She wanted to beg him to tear into her.

His free hand worked it's way to the crack of her ass, where it found the edge of her leotard. He tore it and her panties aside, stretching their fabric. Mouse could feel how hot and wet her cunt was. She had leaked sweat and her own cum into the crotch of the leotard. It had already started when she was dancing, thinking of her first night with him, so it was soaked. It was mostly slick with her cum.

And then his cock was in her again.

"You bastard!" she screamed, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. "You God Damn fucking bastard. Don't you dare fuck me, Michael. Don't you dare fuck your little sister!"

Then she was bouncing, bobbing up and down on his cock as he lifted and dropped her rhythmically. He was making her dance on his cock. She whimpered loudly, trying and failing to form more words. 

She looked over his shoulder at their reflections in the floor to ceiling mirrors lining the far wall. The vast, empty dance room surrounded them. He stood in the center, tall and broad, naked from the waist down, his hairy legs and ass taught from the strain of holding them both up. Her own face peeked back at her, over his shoulder, a tiny angel's face beside his large demon's head, his bald pate shining in the harsh lights of the room.

Behind them, they as a couple were reflected again in the mirrors on the far wall, then again in the reflection of the mirror itself, then in the reflection of the reflection. There were thousands of them, thousands of coupled, fucking Michael-Mouse pairs, a huge dance troop rocking in perfect unison in a massive group fuck dance.

Mouse closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of his cock inside her. She felt it stretching her cunt lips and driving into the soft, hot flesh deep inside her.

"I hate you, Michael. I hate loving your cock. I hate the way you make me crave my brother's cock," she whimpered, softly now, her voice trembling.

His thrusts slowed, his violence subsided, but he still fucked her. He still lifted and dropped her in a slow, easy rhythm.

"You fucking pig, Michael. Don't look at other women. Don't think of me with other men. Only with you, Michael. Your little sister is only for you," she said, then she moved her head to kiss him.

The kiss was softer now. The anger was gone from both of them. Their tongues intertwined and danced. Their bodies intertwined and danced. Michael was a good dancer, Mouse thought, when given the right dance, and the right partner. 

She felt Michael lift her higher, frustratingly letting his cock slip almost all the way out. He held her like that for a moment, before completely and abruptly releasing her. He'd dropped her again! She felt like she was falling, falling back onto his cock. She squealed at the sensation, reflexively grabbing his neck to catch herself. There was no need, because his hands grabbed her ass to save her easily. Then he lifted her and did it again.

A huge smile flowed across her face. The sensation was unbelievable. There was the constant feeling of losing his cock as he lifted her, then losing her grip on the world as he released her. She lost both ways, she lost his cock on the way up, she lost his embrace on the way down. But on the way down he filled her. He speared her on his wonderfully hard prick, catching her with it, saving her from the fall by ramming it deeply inside her.

She lived in a state of anticipation. He played his game completely devoid of rhythm, unpredictably, flustering her with maddening suspense. Every time she settled onto his cock, she'd hug him tightly, waiting for the moment when he would lift her off of him to do it again. Then he would hold her in the air, sometimes for seconds, sometimes only a moment, never the same, so she never knew. She'd float in the air in his grip, waiting to be dropped. And then she'd fall, her stomach would flip, and she'd feel his cock drive into her. She'd scream and squirm and grab him tightly, then wait for it all to happen again.

"I love you, you fucking pig," she said. "I love my brother. I love his cock. You're amazing, Michael, you're all I've ever wanted. You're all I'll ever want."

His one arm encircled her then, pulling her tightly against him, almost driving the breath from her. His cock stayed in her now. The amusement ride was over. He seemed to be pushing her down onto it, trying to drive it into her as far as it would go, trying to bury himself in her.

"Yes, Michael. Fuck your little sister. Fuck me good, you bastard. Fuck me good. Your cock feels so fucking good inside me, Michael. Please promise to fuck your little sister forever. Please."

Her words trailed off into screams at the end as she started to come. She wailed and writhed. Her back arched. She drove her cunt against him, trying to help him, trying desperately to get him even more deeply inside her. She felt him stiffen and thicken as blast after blast of painful pleasure shot through her body, driving all of her muscles into wild, tense contortions.

Suddenly he lifted her up, not part way, but all the way up and off of his dick. He held her with both his strong hands, hanging in midair, just for a moment. Then he set her carefully but quickly down onto her knees beside him. 

She looked up at him in frustration and confusion. He grabbed his cock in his own hand and squeezed it. A blast of cum immediately shot into the air at the mirror. She followed it with her eyes before catching a glimpse of both of their reflections. She saw an army of Michael's shooting their cum for her. 

Puddles and drops landed on the ground before her. Her hand shot out to grab his cock now, to hold it herself as it stiffened further, jerked and he came again, and again. She watched them both in the mirror. She watched her army of lovers as each little Mouse held each giant Michael, and each Michael delivered another stream of cum for his sister. The last drops didn't travel far, they didn't even leave his cock, instead dribbling down the sides onto her fingers.

When he finished she licked him clean, slowly and carefully. She made a show of wiping the drops of cum onto her face, and then from her face and fingers into her mouth. She wanted to show him that she forgave him, that she really did still want him, totally and completely. 

How had he done this, she wondered in a fog. She was angry at him. She was furious with him, and in a short while he'd reduced her to being his loving cum slut, she thought. In a way she always had been, though, since she had known what cum was. She was always his little sister cum slut.

When she'd had enough she stood up. She reached out to him and he lifted her off her feet again. She knew what he wanted. She wanted it, too. She reached down to guide his cock inside her again. Then she reached around his neck and held him tightly.

"You're mine, now, Michael. You proposed to me, you're my fiancee, and you're going to be my husband. And I'm going to be your little sister bride, and you can't ever let me go. I'll never have another cock again. Only yours."

She kissed him then, gently, and rested her head on his shoulders, still skewered by his cock. He stood still, holding her ass and her back. She looked again at them in the mirrors, at all of the sweaty, exhausted Mouse and Michael couples. They all looked happy, all of them. A thousand Monas smiled back at her, their faces gleaming with sweat and cum. She could see a contented trace of a smile on all of the Michael faces, too, but they were mostly somber and intense and spent.

They stayed like that for quite a while. Mouse worried that Michael would tire. He didn't. He was quiet the whole time. He hadn't said a word, she realized, since she had pushed past Jeff and Tania in the snow.

He finally spoke now.

"I'm sorry, Mouse, I'm so sorry," he pleaded, still holding her in the air, his eyes still closed. "I never wanted anything with them. I never wanted him to touch you. It made my skin crawl, thinking of him or anyone else touching you. Even her. I don't want her to touch you. I don't want to see you touching her. It's never been like this for me; nothing even close. And I know I've never been the kind of lover with anyone else that I am with you. I'm shit in bed, unless I'm with you. You make me feel and do things I can't believe. I don't know where it comes from. It doesn't come from me. It comes from you. It comes out of me, through me, from you."

He was looking at her now. She searched his eyes frantically. Her heart beat frantically.

"I don't ever want anyone else to touch you. And I have no interest in that slutty little blonde." Michael's voice was firm and forceful now. He was regaining control of his emotions. "But I don't think I can make you happy. I'm afraid that sooner or later you'll realize how boring I am. I couldn't even dance with you at the party. You flutter around, appealing to everyone, being the center of everything, and I fade into the wall hoping not to be noticed. And I always, easily succeed. Face it, I'm boring."

She pressed her head into his chest, knowing how hard this was, knowing how hard it was to admit his weaknesses to his nasty, perfect little sister. She'd spent her whole life pointing his flaws out to him, showing that she thought less of him than he did of himself. Bitch, she thought, turning on herself. She hugged him tightly, burying her hair in his neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he repeated, but as less of a plea then a statement. "I wanted to keep things exciting. I wanted to be able to share you, to let you do whatever it took to keep you happy and interested in me, to keep you from losing interest in me. But I can't. I can't share you. And I know it's not what you said you want, and I was stupid. I didn't know what you were thinking and feeling. I was out of touch, and I was wrong. You didn't want something like that, I know, you only wanted me. You only want me. I know that."

He was rambling, and he didn't have to say another word, but Mouse let him continue. She liked just holding him and listening to his voice, no matter what the words were saying.

"But you also have to know that I never wanted it either, Mouse. I didn't want it. I never want it. I want them to stay away. I want everyone to stay away."

He eased her away from him, just enough to look into her face. Mouse looked up with her eyes tearing again. God, how she hated crying, she thought.

"I can't believe," she said sternly, "that you remembered to follow the rules." She gave him a childish grin.

He laughed with her, spinning her once, quickly, in an impromptu, dizzying circle.

"You're my beautiful, sweet, perfect little sister. My darling, sexy, loving, delightful little sister. And I want you, only you. I want to fuck my amazing little sister, and I want to be the only man you'll ever have and love."

Then he kissed her again.

Like always, it was more amazing and fulfilling than the last.



Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 03



8> Friday: Rehearsal

Michael didn't understand why they had to rehearse for a pretend wedding, but in the end he was glad they did. Mouse had insisted. She had said it was part of the whole schtick, and a girl only gets married once, so they were going to do it right. He gave her an annoyed, sidelong look when she said it, so she leaned up to whisper "I love you" into his ear, and then gave him a quick kiss, and then dragged him along by the hand. He'd had no choice.

The rehearsal was simple enough. The wedding hall was the main room in Jeff's rather large apartment. A soft white light filled the room from a line of high windows along one wall. They offered a wonderful fifteenth floor view of the snowbound city, with a brooding white-gray cloud covered sky as a backdrop. You could even see a sliver of Lake Michigan between the other buildings. Being a successful lawyer had its obvious advantages. He apparently had a lot more to offer Tania than wild sex.

Jeff had graciously agreed to let all of the room's furniture be moved into his bedroom, opening the room up like a small hall. Mouse joked that it was the only thing that she could get on such short notice. Michael waited along one wall, near the "altar", which was merely a folding card table covered with a white table cloth. Chairs were arranged appropriately along the sides in rows, with an aisle down the middle. For the rehearsal, only Alicia, Tania, Jeff, Mouse and Michael were there. Tania was acting as justice of the peace, Alicia was maid of honor, and Jeff was the best man.

It started with Mouse theatrically coming out of the bedroom hallway and striding up the aisle, loudly singing the "dum, dum da dum" wedding march by herself. Halfway through she decided that was too silly. She looked at Jeff's collection of music. He surprised her by quickly recommending some classical selections, and after sampling just a few she had settled on one that she liked. 

They went through the motions for everything, with lots of joking and giggles and smart comments. Every few minutes someone would have an idea to make things more entertaining, and they'd joke some more and get carried away, then eventually abandon it. Michael liked that. Keep it simple. Complicated meant there was more to go wrong.

The biggest problem at the rehearsal came when Tania asked for Michael's full name. It hadn't occurred to either of them that this game would require it, but of course it did. Tania had to say something. She started to. She started to say, "do you, Michael...". And then Tania realized that she didn't know his last name. So she asked him.

It should have been simple. When someone asks you for your last name, you just tell them. You don't stutter. You don't hesitate. It's not a difficult question.

But your last name is never already the same as the woman you're dating, and obviously fucking, and pretending to marry. 

Michael froze. Mouse froze. The whole room waited.

While Michael grappled for a name, a safe name, any name, he looked to Mouse for help. She recovered sooner than him, but showed no sign of coming to his aid. She seemed to enjoy watching him squirm.

"Campbell," Michael blurted finally, relieved to escape, no matter how awkwardly. There was a Campbell at their warehouse in the suburbs. It was a common name. It seemed a safe choice.

Tania eyed him for a moment.

"Sorry, I just, I just started..." Michael began lamely, feeling the need to explain his clumsy pause.

"I just started thinking the words 'Mr. and Mrs. Michael Campbell', and I kind of freaked." he finished, lamely he thought. "It sounded so... intense."

Mouse was grinning at him. She discreetly slipped him a quick wink, as if to signal that she thought he'd done well.

Tania still eyed him, but eventually went on. "Do you, Michael Campbell, take this woman, to be your playfully wedded bride..."

And so it continued. And then came time to kiss the bride. Mouse and Michael were still self conscious about kissing in front of other people, so they leaned in to give each other only the quickest peck on the lips. Somehow, the act of letting people see them show their incestuous lust was just too difficult to do. Michael couldn't explain it, not with everything else that had gone on, not even with Tania having listened to their sessions through her walls. And yet they couldn't do it.

"Okay, that was lame," Alicia chimed in. "That's how I kiss my brother."

Her choice of analogy made both Michael and Mouse blush, which made them even more self conscious, which made them blush more. Michael felt his cheeks burning with heat.

"Yeah, come on, kids," Tania put in. "Let's see some tongue action there. I'm not presiding over a Puritan wedding."

Mouse and Michael obediently leaned into each other. They hesitated for one more moment, looking each other in the eye, steeling themselves, and then locked lips in a slightly longer, only slightly more passionate kiss. Michael could feel himself wanting to let it grow into more, but they still separated quickly.

"I don't think there was any tongue in there," Tania observed with disappointment. She stared at them a moment longer, but when they showed no sign of giving her a better performance, she sighed in theatrical resignation and continued.

"I present to you all," Tania announced, looking up and around the empty room, "Mr. and Mrs. Michael Campbell."

"No!" Mouse interjected, startling them all. "No, I don't like that."

Everyone blinked in confusion, everyone except Michael. He knew where she was headed.

"Dear," Michael started, trying to steer her away from dangerous waters.

"No," Mouse said firmly, glaring at a blank spot on the wall. "I want to be Mr. and Mrs. Michael Castillo."

"You can't do that," Alicia protested. "You can't make him use your last name. You can be Mr. Campbell and Mrs. Castillo, which is very un-romantic, or Mr. Campbell and Mrs. Campbell-Castillo, or Castillo-Campbell, or whatever. But he can't become Mr. Castillo."

"Are you through?" Mouse asked, sounding as if venom was ready to drip from her teeth.

Alicia held her tongue. They all knew about Mona's temper.

"It's my wedding and my game and my rules and I can do whatever I want. Michael has to do it, too, because if he doesn't I'll lie in bed on our wedding night like a three day old fish," she said.

Tania was the only one that laughed. She quickly voiced her feminist opinion. "I agree with Mona. It's about time women completely turned the tables. Let Michael take her last name."

"I don't care," Michael said as soon as he could get a word in. Jeff raised his eyebrows at him, as if goading him to do battle, to champion the vanishing rights of men everywhere.

"I really don't, it's not a big deal to me," Michael said. Actually, he hated the idea of doing this with a fake name, too. If they had come this far, if they were going this far, then he wanted it to feel real when they did it. He didn't want his little sister introduced as the wife of some other, unknown man. It was too weird, he thought.

Too weird? He knew he was losing it now. He was pretending to marry his sister, but using an assumed name was too weird.

"Okay, so it's settled, we'll be introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Michael Castillo," Mouse concluded.

"I present to you all," Tania intoned, looking at Mouse with an approving grin, "Mr. and Mrs. Michael Castillo!"

Michael and Mouse turned to face the empty chairs. They held hands, and she leaned onto his arm, beaming.

They all applauded politely. Tania put two fingers in her mouth to deliver a loud catcall of a whistle.

* * *

After the rehearsal, the five of them opened a bottle of wine. They sat around talking about all sorts of things. They were just killing time until the rehearsal dinner. Near six o'clock they rearranged the chairs around some more card tables. The guests started to arrive. There weren't many, Michael noted happily. A delivery man came to the door with a stack of pizza boxes.

"We're sparing no expense, I see," Michael said.

"Well, the groom's family is supposed to pay for the rehearsal dinner, and the father for the wedding. And that's you, both. So if you want to spring for something more elaborate, go right ahead."

"No thanks. Anything else I have to do tonight? Other than find some way to satisfy you," he added, trying to keep the leer out of his voice. He felt like he'd missed something there, but couldn't make the connection.

"You have to give a toast."

"The groom doesn't give a toast, at either the wedding reception or the rehearsal dinner," Michael said smuggly. "I know, I've been through it once."

"The bride's father does," Mouse answered, equally smug.

Michael made a show of swallowing his tongue. "Excuse me?" he finally got out.

"We need someone to be my father tonight," Mouse said, choosing her words carefully in front of her friends. She almost said "to be Dad", but caught and subdued that thought quickly enough. She had then wanted to say "be my daddy," but she didn't trust Tania nearly enough to do it in front of her.

"We all figured, that since you were the oldest..." Mouse started.

"And because you look sort of like Mona," Alicia chimed in.

Mouse glared at her for adding that discomforting observation, although Alicia clearly and thankfully had no idea why it annoyed her so much. 

"And because you look like maybe you could be my father," Mouse continued delicately, with another restraining glare at Alicia, "age-wise."

"And because sometimes Mona calls you 'daddy'," Tania interrupted, grinning.

Mouse's glare switched targets and intensified. She didn't want to let this conversation get out of hand. "And because sometimes you act like a father to me, 'daddy'," she said with a small smile, while making a show of rolling her eyes. "Because of that, we figured that you should be the one to give the father's toast at the rehearsal dinner."

Michael spent a long time taking a little sip of wine from his glass.

"No," he stated. "No. That is not happening. I am not going to be your father one night, giving you away, and your groom the next, giving you..." Michael trailed off, trying to erase the images from everyone's minds and rephrase things. "It's not happening," he finished simply.

"It's too late," Mouse said, leaving no room for contradiction. "Jeff obviously can't be my father, he doesn't fit the part. I'm not black enough. It's too late to recruit someone else, so you're all that's left. So get to work and come up with a short speech. Make me feel wanted and loved, and give me away with honor and pride."

"I hate you," he said, burning holes in her eyes.

Mouse lifted herself up on tip-toes to give him a quick kiss in reply. Her friends all stood around them grinning wickedly.

* * *

Michael had decided he would make the best of it, Mouse knew. As clumsy and timid as he was, he wasn't a bad public speaker. He had been nervous and awkward when he was younger, but a career path that lead him to become a vice president of operations had taught him to be better.

He rose from his seat beside Mouse and walked to one end of the room. He cleared his throat. It took only a moment for the small group to quiet down. Apparently, they all figured that this was going to be one of the more humorous parts of the charade. Mouse hoped that he wouldn't disappoint them. 

She looked across at him with some trepidation. It was like being the victim at a roast, she now realized. Everyone's attention was directed at him, but it was really on her. He looked into her eyes, and she could feel herself falling through space in that moment. She blushed immediately, and he hadn't even started. How un-Mouse-like, she thought, reprimanding herself.

"I can remember Mona as a sweet little girl. It's hard to believe, I know," Michael started. There was some muffled laughter.

"When she was very little, she played with Barbie dolls. One of her favorite games was to marry Barbie to Ken. The thing was, as soon as the wedding was over, they would get married again, right away. Her older brother and sister would constantly try to correct her, but she just didn't seem to get it. Mona liked weddings, and obviously more weddings were better than one, just like more helpings of ice cream."

More laughter.

"I hope by now she's outgrown that phase, although she may have engineered things like this exactly so that she can, in fact, get married again as soon as this one is over," he said. He was rewarded with a few more chuckles. Mouse made a show of sticking her tongue out at him.

"The day I remember most clearly is the night of her prom. She looked so amazing in that dress." Michael was looking straight at her now. His eyes were sober and intense, and she felt as if he were looking at her again that night, in that dress. She felt just as young and nervous, too, as if she were seventeen again and on her way to the prom. She'd never known why Michael had stopped by the house that night, only that he did, and he saw her, and her heart had jumped when he did.

"I looked at her and I saw a beautiful princess, my little princess. And then I thought, no, not a princess. I was stunned by the realization. She was a beautiful woman. My little Mouse had grown into a beautiful, radiant woman."

Mouse could feel herself blushing again. She fought it down.

"I felt sorry for her, because I knew she had to go with a barely acceptable date. The guy she wanted to go with hadn't asked her, so she took a second choice, and muddled her way through the evening with him, only to come home feeling unfulfilled. I hope she's not doing the same thing for her wedding."

Michael got some more laughs.

Mouse dropped her eyes to her plate at this memory. It was true. She looked around the room, seeing expressions of recognition and agreement on almost every woman's face. It seemed like no one actually went to their prom with the guy they wanted, she observed. Everyone had to accept a replacement date. The really unlucky ones have to go with a cousin or a brother recruited for the task.

Which was ironic, Mouse thought, because in her case, that was exactly who she wanted to go with. She'd have given anything to have been forced to go to her prom with her older brother.

"I can also remember her at Michael's first wedding," Michael continued.

Mouse's attention snapped back to Michael at this. She studied his eyes fiercely, wondering what he was going to say, and wondering how much of it would be true. She didn't want to hear anything about his ex-shrew.

"Many of you may not know that Michael's already been married and divorced. The thing was, Mona went to his first wedding, as did I." Michael paused to grin, and to let his audience have their laugh. "But what Mona doesn't know was that she was the most beautiful woman there, more beautiful even than the bride."

The room became suddenly, cavernously quiet at this admission. Michael was beaming at Mouse, and she felt both lost in and blinded by the sparkle in his eyes as he spoke. His eyes were so dark and serious, even though they were smiling. They seemed to hold her in the same strong grip his hands had used on her in the dance studio.

"And believe me, the bride knew it, and it infuriated her." Michael paused again while everyone laughed, and a few people clapped. He seemed to enjoy getting digs in at his ex-wife's expense. Mouse grinned herself. She'd never known all this. Later she would have to ask him if it was true.

"My last sharp memory is of Mona leaving to live on her own in Chicago. She had grown into a fantastic woman, one very capable of taking care of herself. I didn't want her to leave. I wanted to go with her, to protect her. There was a huge hole in my life when she left, but I had to let her go, to live her life on her own.

"And now I don't have to worry about her anymore, because she'll have a husband. And she can take care of him, probably better than he can take care of himself." Michael paused again to allow more laughter to die down.

Michael raised his glass.

"So, tonight, I'm ready to give away my little girl, my princess, my grown woman, and my heroine. To Michael and, mostly, to Mona!"

Mouse blushed as she listened to the applause speckled with a murmur of comments and compliments, and the short, sharp, stuttered ring of glass on glass on glass as people drank to the toast.

She took a sip of champagne herself, then rose up, feeling as if she were floating. She hurried over to Michael's side.

When she got to him, she looked him in the eye briefly, but couldn't bear it. She buried her face in his chest. When she regained her composure she looked up again. She reached up to kiss him, and he reached down, and they both froze. He was her brother. He was playing the role of her father. And she wanted to kiss him passionately in front of her friends, and some strangers, and all of the various dates her friends had brought with them for fun.

Fear overcame love, and Mouse gave Michael a very quick peck on the lips. Tania yelled "Kiss him right," but Mouse turned to her smiling.

"He's my daddy, I can't do that," she said, escaping, for now, amidst everyone's laughter.

Then she leaned up to whisper into Michael's ear.

"Is any of that true?" she asked.

His mouth found her ear. "All of it," he answered.

"Even the stuff about the prom dress?"

"Yes."

"And your wedding?"

"Yes."

"I love you, and I can't wait to marry you, Michael," she said. She gave his ear a quick flick of her tongue.

"You can't marry your father, Mona, it's incest," he whispered.

Mouse didn't answer him, but simply dropped back down, giving him a devilish leer, squeezed his hand, and scurried back toward their seats, pulling him with her.

* * *

The rest of the rehearsal dinner passed uneventfully. Eventually all of the guests left to go clubbing, until at last only the original five remained. They quickly cleaned up afterward. Once that was done, Michael asked Mouse if she was ready to leave as well.

"I'm not coming home tonight," she told him.

"You're not coming home with me? You staying with them?" he said, meaning Tania and Jeff.

"I'm going home with Alicia tonight," she explained, a little shocked that he thought, after last night, that she would even sleep in the same apartment with Tania and Jeff. She grabbed her coat and signaled Alicia that it was time to go. "The groom isn't supposed to see the bride until the wedding. It's bad luck. You can take my car. You'll find your tux back at my apartment. You have to be here by four tomorrow. Don't be late," she ordered. She gave him a quick kiss, and she and Alicia were gone.

8> Saturday: Ceremony

Michael felt silly the moment he left Mouse's apartment in the tuxedo. He'd spent most of the evening rooting around Mouse's computer, looking at her writing. He spent the morning eating, dressing, and snooping. He'd never been left alone in her apartment before. He felt good, a little nervous, but overall like he was having a good time with this, and one way or the other, it would be the last day of coordinated events, or so he hoped. He figured that once the ceremony was done it would be time for the wedding night, which would be spectacular, and then a week of simply pretending to be married newlyweds on a honeymoon.

The tuxedo fit well enough. It was perhaps a bit large. Either Mouse had overestimated his size, or he'd lost more weight than he'd thought. Still, it was passable.

Outside of her apartment, however, it hit him how silly he looked. What would he tell anyone that asked? That he was going to a wedding? He didn't need that kind of attention.

Fortunately, he didn't run into anyone until he got to Jeff's apartment building, and once there, while he drew some stares, no one talked to him.




Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 03



When he arrived, there were already a number of people there. Too many. There were at least twice as many as had come to the rehearsal dinner, and more were arriving.

Alicia and Tania came to him right away to shepherd him along. Alicia, along with two other girls, were wearing brightly colored, exquisite gowns. They looked like old prom dresses. Tania was wearing a black robe, what looked like a high school or college graduation robe.

"You're late," Alicia gushed.

"Ignore her, you're fine," Tania said.

"Did you bring the ring?" Alicia asked.

"I thought you were going to supply it," he answered calmly.

"You bought her a diamond. Don't tell me you didn't get a wedding band with it." She had just a touch of panic in her face and voice.

Michael reached into his pocket and showed her the two bands that he had, in fact, bought with the diamond ring. He looked at them, realizing how much they cost. It felt silly, now, having spent that much money on this game. It was worth it to give Mona the diamond, but these trinkets were useless. They would never be worn again after the next week.

They lead him immediately to his spot at the altar, where he and Jeff waited for an eternity for Mouse. All the while more and more people came in, until all of the seats were taken and a number of people were standing along the wall at the back. Some people had worn suits and dresses, while others wore jeans and t-shirts. Michael wasn't sure what proper attire was for a phony wedding, so he forgave them. All in all there seemed to be at least fifty people crammed into the apartment. They drew quite a crowd.

The beginning of the music startled Michael out of his thoughts. He looked at the hallway expectantly, unconsciously holding his breath.

The sight of Mona in a wedding gown caused him to hold it longer. He'd never expected to see her in one, let alone to wear it to marry him. And she looked absolutely breathtaking. Michael wasn't sure what she had meant when she'd said she had ruined the gown for a real wedding, because it looked amazing to him.

It certainly was a Mouse gown. Everything about it screamed "wedding slut", if such a thing existed. Her shoulders were bare. The bust line ended just about where her nipples were. A built in bodice pushed her breasts together and up, making them appear double their actual size. There were four small openings level with her belly button, one each in front, in back and to either side, exposing bare flesh. There was yet another just below her breasts, so the inside bottoms of those were exposed as well.

Below the waist the gown hugged her hips. A train flared out and back, but one mischievous leg had escaped through a high slit in the front. Whenever that leg stepped forward, it would come out, bare and high heeled, exposed almost up to the crotch and pelvis. 

As if to compensate for the dress's overeagerness, Mouse wore a traditional veil and a pair of long, white, silk gloves that rose up her arm past her elbow, ending in line with the bust line of her gown.

In true Mouse fashion, too, she had found a way to make a walk up the aisle in a white wedding gown with a sexy sashay.

As she approached him he held his hand out to her. She put her hand delicately in his, and stood beside him beaming. Michael felt he couldn't look away, even after Tania began.

The ceremony itself passed quickly. There was some muffled laughter when Mouse belatedly realized that she needed to remove her glove to allow him to put the ring on. It ruined nothing.

Then the moment arrived that both Mouse and Michael had been dreading and relishing in equal extremes.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Tania announced, grinning from ear to ear. "You may kiss the bride."

Michael turned to face Mouse, who looked straight into his vest as she lifted first the veil, then her eyes. She looked so beautiful to Michael. The perfect bride. His sexy little sister. That he was now going to kiss passionately in front of fifty people.

He had expected Mouse to get him through this, as she so often did. He looked down at her. He gently placed his hands on her hips. She did the same on his chest. He leaned forward closely, expecting her to grab him, to pull him close, and to force them into the most passionate kiss of their lives.

She didn't. She froze. He saw the fear and panic filling her eyes, and actually feared she might faint. He had never seen such a look in her eyes, not in all the years he had known her. It frightened and hurt him. He probably couldn't have done it otherwise, but the only way out was to kiss her, to do what he had expected her to do for him. He pulled her close, not giving her time or room to do anything. Even if she had fainted, no one would ever know.

And then his lips were on hers. Her mouth was closed, her lips tight and stiff, at first. He didn't rush it. He couldn't rush it, and he knew that was how he was kissing her. Then he warmed to it and his lips parted slightly. He forced his tongue against hers. She resisted him. With one hand he pulled her even more tightly against his body. She was limp in his arms, but she understood the signal. She couldn't overpower him. She couldn't resist him forever. Her lips opened just a bit, and his tongue found hers. 

She melted into him then. All resistance ended. Her tongue and lips became frantic, as if apologizing for their tardiness by kissing him as if they were fucking. In the distance he could hear muffled applause, and then a chorus of catcalls as the applause increased and he and Mouse still didn't stop. He almost felt as if he needed to restrain her. He was saved when Tania did exactly that. She put her hands between them to separate them.

"Whoa, save it for the honeymoon suite kids, this is a wedding, not adult movie auditions."

Mouse was grinning into Michael's chest. She ran her finger along his vest, then hit him once, very hard. She looked up at him then, beaming a smile.

"I love you, hero," she said. He knew exactly what she meant.

They turned to face the still applauding crowd.

"I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Michael Castillo," Tania announced, quickly adding her catcall whistle before anyone else could beat her to it.

The applause redoubled. Mouse took Michael's hand and pulled him at a run down the aisle and into the hall.

As soon as they were out of sight she threw her arms around him to resume their kiss.

"I can't believe I pulled a Michael," she said when they finally separated. "And you pulled a Mouse. I'm rubbing off on you, it seems."

"And vice versa," Michael answered, smiling.

"It must be all that rubbing we're doing," Mouse said, then kissed him again. "We just have to wait a few minutes for them to set up the tables for the reception. The chinese food will be here any minute."

"What should we do while we're waiting?" Michael asked. She didn't even let him finish the sentence.

* * *

The reception passed as quickly as the entire day for Michael. They spent most of the time kissing, holding hands, and going from table to table where Mouse took great joy in introducing him as "my husband, Michael Castillo". The use of his and her last name made him uncomfortable, so he was always quick to repeat the lie that his last name was really Campbell, and he was only going along with the Castillo thing for Mouse's sake. The more he said it, the more pleasure she seemed to take in making him go through it again.

They didn't hang around too long. Mouse was eager to leave, to "get on with married life." Alicia came to tell them that the limo was downstairs. Michael raised his eyebrows at that. Mouse told him they were riding it to a Michigan Avenue hotel, where they had a room booked for the night.

"Only one night?" Michael asked. 

Mona's only answer was a sly smile.

Mouse had a bouquet. She had been waiting all day to throw it. She turned her back on the crowd of women, and purposely threw it to where she knew Tania and Alicia were standing. It did go straight at Tania, who expertly batted it toward Alicia, like a basketball player deflecting a rebound.

"Does this mean I get married next, or only that I pretend to get married next?" Alicia joked.

Alicia and Tania and the others bade them goodbye, and wished them luck. Alicia couldn't resist asking Michael if it was fun, and if he'd considered doing it again some time. Tania pulled her away before she could ruin things, but Mouse just laughed and said that wasn't the point. That didn't make any sense to Alicia. Of course it was the point. It was the whole point.

As they walked out, Tania pushed a formal looking sheet of hefty, decorative paper into Michael's hand.

"It's your wedding certificate," she explained, grinning.

* * *

Michael was self conscious walking with Mouse through the hotel lobby. Everyone, it seemed, loved to gawk at a bride and groom, and Mouse's wedding gown was pretty much designed to draw stares. One woman was bold enough to ask where she got it, and where she could get one like it. Mouse told her she'd designed it herself. She took the woman's name and number to possibly create another on contract.

"This could be a great business," she gushed as they stepped into the elevator. "I could wind up making a mint off of this."

"Between that and the rings, I'd say so," Michael said, cooly looking at the numbers counting up beside the elevator door.

Then she was out from under his arm, hands on his chest, pinning him to the wall and kissing him.

"We're going to need the money, Mr. Castillo," she said after breaking the kiss. "To raise our family."

Michael looked at her uncertainly, wondering exactly how far she would take this charade. She didn't give him any hints, either. She simply dragged him out and away with an enigmatic smile when the elevator door opened.

They arrived at their room. He opened the door with the key card. He stepped back to let her go through first, while she stood her ground.

"You have to carry me over the threshold, dork," she said, ever his little sister.

He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, lifted her smoothly off of her feet and carried her into the room. He kicked the door closed with one foot before carrying her straight to the bed, where he laid her gently down.

"Don't you want to explore the room, Mr. Castillo?" she asked in a coquettish voice.

Michael didn't answer. He went to find the light switch.

* * *

When the room was dark and Michael returned, Mouse was standing beside the bed.

"Lie down, Mr. Castillo," she commanded.

He didn't hesitate to obey, not even stopping to remove his shoes. Mouse removed them for him, then sat down, very primly, on the bed beside him. She leaned over to kiss him. They held the kiss for a long time. They kissed slowly and deeply, showing no desire to rush things. They had fucked so many times before, but they would only have one wedding night.

When his hand found her bare thigh, protruding through the slit in the gown, she seemed to sense that it was time to move things along. She broke the kiss as she let her hands slide down his chest toward his pants.

"Now, the first rule of fucking when you have just been married, in case you don't know, is that you have to leave the tux on, and I have to leave this beautiful gown on."

"Is this a real rule, or a Mouse rule?" Michael asked.

"Mouse rule, I suppose," she answered, seemingly without interest. She was already working at his belt and zipper. It didn't take her long to reach inside and pull his semi hard cock out. Once she did so, she re-buckled his belt. He looked down at himself. It was somewhat comical, a man in a full tuxedo, with a growing erection sticking out of his pants.

Once finished, she wrapped one hand, still wearing the full length silk gloves, around his cock. She gently, slowly stroked him, several times. It didn't take long for her to bring him to full attention, especially after she'd made him spend the previous night alone. The feel of the silk on his cock was magnificent. Michael closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation. He made a mental note to himself that she would have to keep those gloves handy, and clean.

"You have a very nice cock, Mr. Castillo," she commented, sounding polite and demure.

With that, she lowered her mouth to him and swallowed him whole.

He rewarded her with a loud, long intake of his breath, while letting his hand squeeze her bare thigh tightly. Still holding him in her mouth, she lifted herself smoothly onto the bed. Raising her gown expertly, she released him and straddled him in one athletic motion. Her one bare thigh was again exposed by the slit in her dress, which otherwise spread out about her on the bed like a fluffy cloud.

He was not at all surprised to discover that she had no undergarments. Her hot, wet slit was immediately resting against the length of his cock. She didn't let him enter her, but instead carefully positioned herself so that she rubbed, back and forth, along the ridge of his hard cock, bathing it in warm, wet cum from her steaming hole.

She rode him this way for quite a while, gently back and forth, staring at him the whole time, leaning forward and pushing her ass back to be sure that her clitoris got its share of friction from his cock. He could feel her marvelously large, swollen clit pressing into his cock like a finger tip. He tried to push back when he felt it, to feel it more completely, and to help her feel it, too.

"Mrs. Castillo likes your cock, Mr. Castillo," she purred.

"You like using our 'new' names, don't you, Mrs. Castillo?" he asked.

"It suits me, don't you think?" she said with a wicked grin. "Mrs. Castillo, Mrs. Mona Castillo," she said, as if trying on a new outfit, and putting an emphasis on the word "Mrs.". "Mrs. Mona Michael Mouse Castillo," she rattled off musically.

"That's the short version," Michael told her.

She cocked one eyebrow at him It only took her a moment to think out where he was heading.

"Oh, you mean Mrs. Mona Michael Mouse Incestuous Sister Whore Castillo. Yes, that would be my full, proper name, on all the legal documents" she said. She chose that moment to reach behind her and loosen the zipper on her dress, letting the front relax enough to expose her nipples, now hard and begging for attention.

"Suck Mrs. Castillo's nipples, would you please, Mr. Castillo?" she asked, in a sweet, sexy voice.

"No," Mr. Castillo answered cooly.

"Don't you like Mrs. Castillo's nipples, Mr. Castillo," Mouse asked, still sweet and girlish. She arched her back, pressing her cunt harder against Michael's cock, simultaneously pushing her nipples further out, where he could clearly see them above the rim of her dress.

"I do, very much, but you didn't ask properly," Michael answered.

"Please suck Mrs. Castillo's nipples, Mr. Castillo. Mrs. Castillo wants her handsome big brother to suck her nipples," she said, grinding onto his cock again.

He pushed back against her with his own hips, suddenly, lifting her sharply into the air, knocking her forward like a bucking bronco. As she fell forward he grabbed her shoulders, to help guide one nipple to his mouth. He sucked on it, hard, the nipple and then her whole tit, then quickly switched to the other.

"Thank you, Mr. Castillo, you do that very well," Mouse said in a sexy, breathy soprano.

"My little sister let me practice on her," Michael said, releasing her nipple as he pushed her back upright.

"She taught you well, I think," Mouse answered. "You've earned a chance to look at more of Mrs. Castillo." She looked down at her waist as she undid some hidden clasps. Then she peeled the front of the gown off below the waist, exposing her thighs and dark patch of pubic hair to him. Most of the gown, to her sides and behind her, was left intact, still billowing on the bed around her.

Michael put one hand on each thigh and gripped them tightly, as Mouse returned to sliding her wet slit along the length of his cock, still not letting him enter her, teasing him and herself as well. She began to moan and squeal as the feel of his cock tickled her clit. She sped up her motions, while Michael lay entranced by the sight of her sliding along his prick. The dark patch of pubic hair would move forward, covering his cock, then slide back, leaving it glistening with her cum in the soft light. The tops of her thighs and the sides of her hips were clearly visible, beautiful visions of curving skin buried beneath her gown, where only he could see them.

"It's time to fuck your sister bride, I think, Mr. Castillo," she teased. "Would you like to fuck your sister bride now?"

Michael answered with a look of angry, burning passion. He glared at her, daring her not to ride his cock that instant. She reached down with one gloved hand, never taking her eyes from his. She lifted herself slightly, positioning the cock directly under her pussy. She lowered herself gently, easily, but fully onto his cock. 

She squealed as she did it, making sharp, high pitched sounds of delight all the way down. When she reached the bottom Michael was still unsatisfied. He wanted every millimeter of his cock inside her. He lifted his hips from the bed, raising her in the air, trying to get in deeper.

"Oh, Mr. Castillo. Mrs. Castillo really, really likes your dick," Mouse squealed. Her eyes closed, as her voice became suddenly louder and higher.

Mouse began to raise and lower herself, gently, easily. Michael held her down at times, slowing her pace. He'd been without her for a full night and day. He knew that he would come too easily if she wasn't careful. As always, he needed Mouse to enjoy it, too, to the fullest, especially now.

"Don't hold back, Mr. Castillo," she scolded in answer to his actions. "I'm not going to come very soon, maybe not at all. You have to come in Mrs. Castillo first, Mr. Castillo. You have to be the first and only man to ever come in Mrs. Castillo's cunt."

"You want your brother's cum in you now, little sister?" Michael asked harshly.

"Yes, Mr. Castillo," Mouse answered. "I want your brother cum in Mrs. Castillo's hot, wet, baby sister pussy."

She rode him faster now. Michael closed his eyes, feeling the moment of release building in him. He heard Mouse's voice above him.

"You need to come now, Mr. Castillo, you need to mix Mr. Castillo's big brother cum with Mrs. Castillo's little sister cum, you need to do it now, right now..."

Listening to her words, and to her excited little girl voice, Michael lost whatever control he thought he had. He felt his cock growing inside her, filling like a balloon ready to pop, and then it did. He burst into her with a force he felt could lift her off of him. His cum flooded into her, and in the recesses of his mind he could hear her screaming his name, urging him on, begging him for more. He emptied himself into her, while images of her raced through his mind. 

He saw himself fucking her in her prom dress when she was a teenager. He saw himself fucking her in the car on the drive back from college. He saw himself fucking her at his own wedding, while his bride was off mingling with guests. He saw himself fucking her in his own home, in his den, the night he first fucked his little sister, the first night he really fucked his little sister.

"I love you, Mr. Castillo," Mouse was whispering in his ear. She had fallen onto his chest. She lay there, continuously grinding her cunt onto his cock, scraping her nails across his neck, and kissing him under the chin. "Mrs. Castillo loves you Mr. Castillo. Mrs. Castillo loves your cock and your cum and your neck and your mouth."

Then she kissed him. While her mouth was on his, he rolled her over onto her back. His mouth found her ear, where he nibbled and kissed the lobe roughly.

"Mr. Castillo's not done with you, little sister. Not by a long shot," he said, and then he drove himself hard and deep into her cunt. She squealed with pleasure. He slid his cock in and out of her as quickly and deeply as he could, giving her no time to think or react. She moaned and tossed, and soon began to forget her game.




Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 03



"Oh, Michael," she moaned, "I love your cock so much. My baby sister cunt loves your big brother cock so much." She begged for his cock. She begged him to fill her cunt, using all of the incestuous language they both loved so much, the ultimate reminder of how wicked and wonderful their lovemaking was.

"Nail your baby sister bride to the bed, Mr. Castillo," she screamed.

And so she continued for quite a while, as long as it took for her to climax, for her cunt to twitch and clench uncontrollably, and in so doing to draw more cum from Michael's cock in his second orgasm that night.

* * *

They lay together in each other's arms, Mouse once again nestled against Michael's chest. She worked at undoing the buttons on his shirt, so her hand could make it's way to her favorite pass-time of tickling his chest and pulling chest hairs.

"You need to get some sleep now, Mr. Castillo. We have a plane to catch tomorrow."

"Another surprise for me, Mrs. Castillo?" Michael asked. "Where are we going?"

"Mexico, darling, for our honeymoon. Mr. and Mrs. Castillo have reservations at a resort there. A whole week in another country where no one at all knows us, and we can be Mr. and Mrs. Castillo with complete abandon. Complete. Abandon." she finished, using her impersonation of Michael's, and their older sister Melanie's, habit of phrasing important points for emphasis with dramatic pauses.

"You have always amazed me, Mouse. I can't wait. I. Can't. Wait."

8> Monday: Answer

Michael and Mouse walked arm in arm through the night, exhausted and subdued by their romantic oceanside lovemaking. They were reaching the end of their private, secluded portion of the beach. Soon they would be entering the resort, which by itself represented their re-entrance to a world that kept them apart, the world that made their love wrong. Mouse squeezed Michael's stomach muscles more tightly, and leaned further into his chest, as if trying to bury herself in him, trying to become a part of him before they crossed the threshold.

He had asked for real, and she hadn't told him yes. Their passion was unbelievable. Her orgasm was the most intense she'd ever had. The whole experience was so beautiful and complete that she still felt she was floating along the beach.

The moon was still bright. The stars were silent, cold pinpoints of light far out of reach. The sound of the waves was soft and rhythmic, like someone trying to whisper a secret, a secret like theirs. The ocean itself was brightly lit by the moon, yet mostly bathed in shadow and darkness. Another patch of secrets. The jungle to their other side was darkest of all. It was frightening, with the canopy of the trees blocking out the moonlight, masking a layer of thick undergrowth in a pitch black void.

Secrets.

She should have said yes. She should have let the words come out. She should have screamed it to him, screamed it at him. She should have let him know how she really felt, how far she was willing to go. She should have let him know how much of her he already owned.

"Yes," she said into her brother's chest.

"Hmm?" Michael asked, drawn partially out of his own deep thoughts.

"I said yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Mr. Castillo," Mouse said playfully, looking up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. She hoped her smile hid the depth of true emotion she was feeling. She hoped the game hid the truth.

"We're already married, darling," he answered. 

He was dodging the question, she knew, but she played along. She had said yes, but the moment was past, and they both knew it.