Family Room

Curled next to him on the couch reading some new novel, a teen romance from the school library. Her appetite for them seems insatiable to

him as he peers sidelong at her over the top of his reading glasses, pretending to read the paper as he stares possessively at her long tanned legs, so smooth and brown, stretching sideways away from his body, out from under one of his t-shirts that she has adopted as a nightgown; he smiles as he watches her, lost in her book, twirling one

long brown strand of hair around the end of her finger, brushing the soft ends across her mouth, her shoulder resting soft and warm against

his elbow his penis longs to feel more of her young firm but supple body snuggled against him, it is still so eager to explore the blossoming fruit of her loins, so recently unfolding before it’s very eyes.

The brother is lying face down on the floor at their feet, absorbed in some television program involving lots of grinding metal and squealing

tires and machine gun fire, a reward for finishing his homework and helping clean up after dinner. The little sister has been packed off to

bed an hour ago, already asleep.

He enjoys these times with the children, he has grown accustomed to the empty spot in his bed since she left them, a long time ago now, he thinks, almost a year. And the girl, the delightful creature so warm and soft, so close… she has become a welcome comfort…

He rustles his newspaper on the pretext of turning the page; really, he wants the girl’s attention, and she does not disappoint, she turns

her head to look up at him, hair poised in mid-stroke across her lip he smiles down at her and rests the paper in his lap to pet her soft

silky locks, running his arm down the side of her body, her exposed skin cool to his touch she snuggles against him closing her book, tossing it lightly onto the brother’s back.

“Hey!” the brother does not turn to look at the two figures on the couch, merely twists, irritated, shrugging the book onto the floor,

shouts at the TV as the bad guys apparently are gaining the advantage…

She smiles up at him again, a smirking, mischievous grin, giggles softly, snakes a delicate hand under the newspaper. He moans softly

as his penis swells expectantly, hugs her closer to him, sliding his hand down the smooth cool length of her hip, stroking possessively

running his rough worn hand down the side of her firm young calf, marveling at the feminine combination of strength and delicateness; she reaches her other hand into the space between his back and the couch, and he moans softly — she giggles wickedly and slips her hand lower, down into the back of his sweatpants, tickling his buttocks, wiggling a slender finger into the crack of his ass, stroking the hair between his cheeks, somehow always freshly amazed at how hairy he is.

Unable to suppress a grunt of pleasure he is thankful the television is so loud, the boy so engrossed… He would have to admit he enjoys

this wicked game they have played almost nightly since finally consummating their forbidden lust, pushing each other to gasp and betray their sexual arousal in front of one or the other of her younger siblings…