My Sister’s Boyfriend: A Forbidden Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  I can’t help it though. Slowly, I maneuver my cock out of my pants and stroke it while peering through the crack in the door. Catherine’s stopped suckling her breast, and she’s now riding the tiny dildo furiously, moaning and tossing her head with pleasure as her wet folds close around it. Suddenly, her ecstasy reaches a peak because I see her pussy spasm violently, and she lets out a loud scream.

  “Hunter!” she cries. “Oh god, YES! Right there!”

  I freeze in place. Did she just call my name?

  But it’s true. Evidently, the sweet girl has been masturbating to fantasies of me, and even now, she shakes and trembles while crying out my name in desperate gasps. I’m turned on by the sight. Her big breasts shake and roll as her pussy spasms again and again, hot fluids seeping down her thighs.

  I’m tempted to burst in and make her ride my cock for real, but then I think better of it. That would be too much for a sweet virgin like Catherine. It would be coming on too strong, too fast. Instead, I’m going to think of a better plan, but rest assured … the sweet girl will be riding me sooner or later, that much is certain.

  4

  Hunter

  A few days later, I’m waiting at Angela and Catherine’s apartment again. Angela is always at damned cheerleading practice because she loves bossing the other girls around. She’s a queen bee and bitch wrapped in one, and as the captain of the cheerleading squad, she’s got the other girls shaking in fear. There’s no way she would miss practice.

  But Catherine is another story. I was supposed to leave my key here, but I didn’t. Instead, I’ve decided to let myself in once again and lie in wait. Technically, this is breaking and entering since I have no business being here, but I don’t care. The mental image of Catherine orgasming hard while screaming my name is burned in my brain, and I have to have more.

  The sound of the front door opening causes me to spring to my feet. Catherine enters, and I catch my breath at her lush figure. Her breasts are ripe and full, prettily displayed in a tight t-shirt. Her jeans hug her hips, promising of the pleasure to come.

  “Hunter!” she says, shooting me a shocked look. “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”

  I grin.

  “This is your apartment. I’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

  She smiles shyly.

  “Well, welcome. What are you doing here?” she asks setting her book bag down on the countertop. “Angela isn’t coming home until later.”

  “Um, she told me to come over,” I say, fibbing on the fly. “I was going to borrow some cookbooks.”

  Catherine looks confused.

  “Really? You cook? Angela cooks?”

  Oh shit. Clearly, I’m not very good at lying.

  “Um, no. I mean, yes. I think Angela was referring to these cookbooks here. They’re yours right? Angela told me I could borrow one because I’ve been meaning to learn how to cook.”

  Fortunately, my ex-girlfriend is exactly the type of lend out someone else’s stuff.

  “Oh sure,” says Catherine, her expression still puzzled. “Help yourself. I haven’t used any of those in ages.”

  I pretend to leaf through one, as if I’m interested. Then I look up.

  “So, any recommendations?” I ask as I move to the breakfast bar and pull out a stool. “Is there a particular cookbook you like?”

  Her eyebrow lifts as she stares at me with curiosity.

  “No, not really. Are you just starting out?”

  I nod.

  “I know nothing. I’m just microwaving frozen foods at this point. That, and eating whatever the football team decides to feed us.”

  She nods for a moment, and goes over to stand before the row of cookbooks.

  “Here,” she says. “Start with this one.”

  “The Earth’s Harvest?” I ask dubiously. “Really? A cookbook focused on vegetables?”

  She giggles.

  “Serious athletes can even be vegan, you know. But this isn’t a vegan cookbook, it just has a focus on veggies.”

  I can’t help but notice the flush of red in her cheeks as she tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. A sparkle in her eyes catches my attention and I’m intrigued. There’s definitely special something about this woman. Then, Catherine smiles at me.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Sure, what do you have?” I ask.

  “Um, soda and water. I’m guessing you want soda.”

  I smile at her.

  “You guessed right.”

  “Here,” she says turning to toss me a cold can. Instinctively, I reach out and snag the Coke in mid-air. For some reason, that amuses her and her smile tickles me.

  “Nice catch.”

  “Well, you know I’ve been athletic my whole life. It would be a sad day if a Coke can got the better of me.”

  “True,” she chuckles. It wasn’t one of those fake laughs that I hear from sycophants, but rather a real belly laugh. The crack and fizz of the soda fills the silence for only a moment before Catherine snags a drink for herself and closes the door to the fridge. Her curls bounce, and her profile is dainty and elegant at once.

  Damn. She’s beautiful.

  “Well,” she says, glancing to the door. “I don’t know when my sister is supposed to be coming home. She never tells me anything.”

  I chuckle.

  “Don’t feel too bad. Angela doesn’t tell me anything either.”

  Catherine looks surprised.

  “But I thought you two were inseparable?”

  “Sort of,” I say grimly. Suddenly, I shoot her a sharp look as she innocently sips at her Coke. A light bulb clicks on over my head, and I realize something: Catherine doesn’t know that her sister and I broke up.

  “So, how are you?” the curvy girl asks, totally unaware of my train of thought. It was a simple question that took me by surprise. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone actually asked me that. People are interested in the trophies I’ve won, or my plans for the NFL. No one’s interested in how I actually am as a person.

  “My life? Not football, or career? Just life?” I look at her and she shrugs and throws me another grin.

  “To be honest, I’m not a sports fan. I don’t watch football. Not that I don’t understand the game,” she says quickly while blushing. “It’s just that it’s not what I do.”

  I grin.

  “You don’t like watching grown men run around on a field in spandex tights with a pig skin tucked in their sweaty arms?” I joke.

  She laughs.

  “Not really. Let’s just say athletics have never been my thing.”

  I grin at her. Her disinterest is a nice change, to be honest. I’m constantly surrounded by people who only care about football. It’s like they’ve forgotten the “student” part of “student-athlete.”

  “You know,” I say, waggling my brows enthusiastically. “There’s more to me than just football.”

  “I’d hope so,” Catherine said with a slight chuckle.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, pretending mock-offense.

  She presses her lips into a tight line as her brow raises. I watch her chest rise as she breathes and can’t help but notice the valley between her plump breasts. A man could lose himself in there.

  “Sports can only take a person so far. And then what? What happens if one day you get injured on the field? Then it’s quite literally game over for you and your career. But if you have a backup plan that deals with something outside of sports, then you’re set.”

  I nod a little.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell my dad for years,” I quip. “But a lot of people have one-track minds, including my father. All he sees is the jersey and which major league team I’m going to be playing for.”

  “Could it be the money?” Catherine asks, her brow scrunching a bit.

  I’m startled by her directness, but then I nod. It’s refreshing to have an honest conversation with someone who’s not trying
to ingratiate themselves with me.

  “It’s definitely about the money. My family’s not rich. We’re not even middle-class. My dad owns a 7-11 that’s been robbed a couple times, and my brother is in jail. My mom? Don’t even ask. So yes, NFL-level money would be a game-changer for us. My dad wants me to think he wants the best for me, and he does, but I know that the money is always in the back of his mind.”

  She cocks her head at me.

  “Does it bother you?”

  I look down for a moment, thinking for a moment.

  “Yes and no. I love my dad. He’s done his best to provide for us, but he had a hardscrabble childhood. Again, I know he wants the best for me, but he also wants the pot of money that goes with a football career. You take the good with the bad, you know?”

  Catherine listens carefully while taking sips of her Coke.

  “Now I’ve done it,” I laugh. “I just bared my soul to you, and we don’t even really know each other. You’re uncomfortable.”

  She’s silent, looking down.

  “No, I’m not,” she says softly. “I value that you shared that with me, Hunter.”

  The air between us is comfortable. I can hardly believe that I’m sitting here, having a deep conversation with my ex-girlfriend’s sister. But then I decide to be funny. I’m not used to deep moments after years of being viewed as an “asset,” and Catherine’s insightfulness touches something in me. I finish my Coke with one last swig, and then crush the aluminum in my fingers while grunting like an animal.

  “Ooof, oof, oof!” I holler like an ape.

  “Really?” Catherine rolls her eyes and turns her attention away from me. Suddenly, the act seems very juvenile.

  “Sorry,” I say, setting the crushed can down on the coffee table. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “I suppose my sister likes that, doesn’t she?”

  “What?”

  “You, being all, I don’t know, macho.”

  A snort escaped my nose as I tried to hold in my laughter. Catherine turned and giggled as she pointed at me only to have a snort escape her nose too.

  “That was you,” I said, laughing so hard my sides ached. She shakes her head as her hand covers her mouth, blocking my view of her pretty smile.

  “Why are you doing that?” I asked, reaching out and pulling her hand from her face. “You shouldn’t cover your smile.”

  “I don’t know,” she says, blushing. “I guess it’s just habit.”

  “But you have a great smile. There’s no need to cover it.”

  She merely giggled again, but then the smile faded away. Pain coursed through her expression as she turned her head, and my heart contracted. What was causing this beautiful girl such discomfort?

  I leaned a little closer from my seat on the couch.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She bites her lip and takes a deep breath. Then, I slide a hand onto her knee.

  “I’m okay,” she breathes. “I’m fine.”

  I slide my hand a bit higher up her curvy thigh, unable to resist. She shoots me an alarmed look.

  “What are you doing, Hunter?” she asks as I move closer still. Her body trembles a bit in my proximity, her large breasts shaking.

  “Who told you to hide your smile?” I ask again. Her eyes are locked on mine, and I know I have her in my sights. She’s gorgeous, with that plush pink pout and rosy cheeks. She’s mere inches from me now, and all I have to do is reach out and take what’s mine.

  Slowly, slowly.

  Carefully, I stretch out my hand and brush my fingertips over her cheek. I move gently, hoping I don’t spook her.

  “Do you like this?” I ask in a low voice.

  She swallows audibly, her eyes like saucers.

  “Yes,” she breathes. “But Hunter…”

  I cut her off.

  “But nothing, Catherine. Your smile is beautiful. I want you to smile more for me.”

  “Hunter?”

  Her voice seems fragile, like crystal so easily shattered. Leaning in, I keep my eyes fixed on hers. If she glances away, I’ll lose the moment. A sharp whistle of air seeps through her lips as I brush my fingertips over her smooth arm.

  Steady. That’s it. Keep her right there.

  Then, my lips brush against hers as I wrap my arms around her body and pull her closer to me. She returns the kiss passionately, her soft form melting against mine before she pulls away violently.

  “This isn’t right!” she exclaims, struggling for a moment while pummeling her hands against my chest. But it’s useless because I’m about twice her size and built like a mountain. Besides, my body craves hers too much to stop now. I’m rock hard and dying to be inside her warm wetness. I want her, and I know she wants me too. She just needs that push, that little nudge.

  Sucking in shallow breaths, Catherine tries to regain her composure. There’s a battle raging within her, I can see. It shifts and surges in her eyes, making her hands alternately stroke my chest, and then shove me away again.

  This is a make or break moment. Catherine thinks she can leave, but little does she know, she’s already mine.

  5

  Catherine

  “Hunter, what are you doing?” I gasp.

  There’s hunger in his eyes and it thrills me to my core. His fingers drift over my arm causing me to quiver under his touch. He’s trying to get to me, but I can’t do this. My sister would kill me if she ever found out.

  “We can’t do this,” I say firmly. “It’s wrong.”

  Pulling together every ounce of resolve I can muster, I get up from the couch, intending to leave the room if possible. But Hunter’s strong fingers circle my wrist and there’s a determined look in those blue eyes.

  Oh my god, does he want me that bad? So much that he’s even willing to risk my sister’s wrath? I turn to look at him, and the air between us is electric. My body shivers, and everything about me feels pulled to this handsome, charismatic man. Closing my eyes I swallow hard and try to focus. I can’t sleep with Hunter Brody. It’s wrong.

  But then he lets go and smiles, and I’m undone. It’s something about the innocence in his smile, and the pure, childish enthusiasm that gets to me. Suddenly, I throw myself at him, and land in his lap. Our lips meet, and he pulls me close to that hard chest.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whisper against his lips. “It’s wrong.”

  “It’s not wrong,” he says in a deep voice. “It feels right, Catherine, and trust me when I say it’s not wrong.”

  With that, his mouth descends on mine, claiming victory. I moan ecstatically, giving myself up to this man. My arms circle around his neck, and then my big breasts are pressed flat against his huge chest. He chuckles low in his throat.

  “What do you want, sweet girl?” he hums while playing with the hem of my shirt. Heat floods me as his fingers inch under the fabric of my shirt, brushing over my midriff.

  “Hunter,” I gasp as his lips press into my neck. His fingers are doing curious things, and soon enough, my strapless bra falls off, leaving me in nothing but my flimsy t-shirt and jeans.

  “I want you,” I admit. “I want to feel you.”

  Did you seriously just say that, Catherine? Do you know what you’re doing? This is your sister’s boyfriend, for heaven’s sake!

  But before guilt can seep into my mind, Hunter’s mouth covers mine again, silencing all doubt. All rhythm and reason fades from my mind as our tongues wrestle for dominance.

  God, I’m really doing this. With my sister’s boyfriend. In our shared apartment, where she could come in at any second. I literally masturbate to this man on a weekly basis, but now he’s here in real life!

  Hunter doesn’t seem worried though. He leisurely slips his hand out of my shirt and cups my face as our bodies press against one another. Comfort and security flutter through my core as he shifts us into a more comfortable position on the couch. We’re like a pretzel right now, our limbs entwined as our kisses grow more passionate.
>
  How long have I dreamed about this very moment? Just last night, I was twisting and turning alone in my bed, fantasizing about Hunter Brody. And now it’s real.

  I pull back for a moment to look into those cobalt eyes. The hunger in his gaze takes me by surprise. He wants me, the curvy girl, that bad? But then, he seizes my mouth once more, his tongue parting my lips as his hands fumble at my t-shirt. Suddenly, with a loud rip, the football star tears the fabric clear down the middle, leaving me topless.

  I stare at him, shock and arousal roiling through my core. My breasts are enormous and creamy, tipped with pink nipples that beg to be kissed. His eyes flash.

  “I knew you’d be like this,” he moans before bending his head and taking one in his mouth. I let out my own sigh as hot tingles shoot from my nipples straight to my cunt.

  “Oh god,” I moan, running my hands through his black hair. “Yes. More!”

  My body is ready and willing. My pussy pulses as my fingers dig into his shirt and pull the cotton fabric over his head. A small gasp escapes my lips as I stare at his chiseled chest.

  Wow, Hunter really is a god.

  Swallowing thickly, I admire the hard-as-rock muscles of his pecs. Then, my hand stretches out as if in a dream. I have to make sure he’s real. It’s embarrassing, but he seems to understand. A smile plays at the corner of his lips as my fingertips brush over his chest like a feather.

  “You have an amazing touch, Catherine,” he says. “It’s so gentle.”

  “You like it soft?” I ask shyly.

  “Only certain things should be soft,” he said, taking my questing hand in his own. Then slowly, he pulls it lower and lower, until my fingers rest on the hard bulge of his crotch. It seems to radiate heat as I moan, stroking the hardness through the fabric.

  “Oh fuck,” he groaned, his head tilting back as I give an experimental squeeze. “That feels amazing.”

  My eyes widen. I never expected him to be so thick. He feels like a rigid metal pipe, albeit one that’s burning through the material. I give it another firm squeeze, causing Hunter to grunt thickly in his throat.