BIG D: A SPORTS ROMANCE

by Stephanie Brother

  I shrug my shoulders, feeling despondent, the idea of going home seriously crossing my mind. All the preparation, all the secret longing seems ridiculous. What kind of person am I to put my own desires and feelings above someone else’s in such a big way, particularly someone that I know and care for?

  “Hey,” he says, putting his hand on the top of my arm. “I was only joking.”

  “I know,” I whisper. It’s too noisy for him to hear my mouse-voice but he must lip read.

  “You want to go somewhere for a bit? Somewhere quieter?”

  “Sure,” I say. This is exactly what I was hoping for, but now my success tastes bitter. Still, I follow him out of the main room, down a corridor that’s lined with people chatting and drinking, and into a small side room that’s like a study but with comfortable chairs.

  Harrison flops down on the couch, pulls off his mask and opens the fastenings on his robe.

  “Such a relief to take this thing off,” he says, chuckling it onto the floor. His hair is mussed and he runs his hands over it in a way that seems ridiculously sexy.

  Maybe it isn’t.

  Maybe I’m just a loser with a crush that would think anything about the boy I like is cute.

  I go to sit down next to him just as he throws his arm along the back of the couch. Suddenly I find myself sitting with his arm around me. “So Mandy with the sexy costume, where are you from?”

  “I’m local,” I say, almost choking on the words. From the bedroom next door to yours would be the truthful answer, but I can’t give away my secret.

  “How come I haven’t seen you around?” His eyes travel from my face and rest on the hemline of my skirt that has ridden up so high I’m an inch off flashing my panties at him.

  “Maybe you have,” I whisper, knowing I’m heading into dangerous territory but seemingly unable to stop myself.

  “I think I would have remembered.” Harrison pauses and looks around the room. “Are you okay now? Out there you seemed a bit upset.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure that guy didn’t hurt you?”

  “I’m sure,” I reply. “He was just being a bit handsy.”

  “Well, you can’t really blame him can you?” Harrison says, looking at me pertinently. “That costume is pretty special.”

  I lick my lips, remembering the red gloss I painted on them. The mask is itchy against my skin, but there’s no way I can take it off without risking that he will recognize me.

  “Are you into gothic horror?” I ask, knowing full well he isn’t. He does like Stephen King though and other crime thriller type books that he stacks on his nightstand.

  “I wasn’t before tonight, but I think I might have changed my mind.”

  “You don’t seem to be enjoying your costume very much.” I nod my head towards the hideous latex pile of grotesque face and pins that is lying on the wood floor.

  “Do you have any idea how sweaty it gets inside a mask like that?”

  “I guess I don’t.”

  “Lucky you. I’ve learned a lesson tonight. Next time my stupid friend suggests we dress up for a party, I’m gonna tell him he’s on his own.”

  I chuckle softly. “You don’t have to wear a big latex mask though do you? You could paint your face. There are all these gross stick-on wounds at the costume store. There is so much you can do for Halloween that doesn’t involve a face full of rubber.”

  Harrison laughs. “I’m not as artistic or imaginative as you, obviously.”

  He is. I’ve seen the doodles he draws lying on his desk when I’ve gone into his room to borrow a pen. He has an eye for art too. Apart from the sexy calendar of a bimbo pop star he has on his wall, the other posters are all beautiful abstract landscapes. I can’t say any of this, though, without giving myself away, so I look around the room, trying to think of something innocuous to say that’s interesting too. When you know someone well, it’s hard to think of how you might talk to them as a stranger. My mind is blank, except for the weather. I must wait for too long, looking uncomfortable or something because he asks if I’m okay or if I want to go back to the party.

  I shake my head and look at him. His gorgeous hazel eyes look soft and his lips. Oh god, I’ve dreamed about kissing those beautiful full lips. His hair is still mussed and it makes him look younger and more innocent somehow. I know I’m running out of time, but I’m so torn.

  I know this is my only chance to know what it would be like to be with Harrison. In our real lives, we are stepsiblings and it would be just too big a line for him to cross.

  I know this.

  He wouldn’t want to upset our parents. He wouldn’t want to take advantage of me. He wouldn’t risk our happy home. And it’s the first time since he moved in that we are both single. Who’s to say it will last?

  I’ve always been the kind of person to seize the day, maybe because my mom passed away when I was little, before I had the chance to get to know her or tell her the things I would have if I had known. If I pass up this chance I won’t ever know how it feels to be in his arms, to have his body linked with mine. And I know I will always regret that.

  I don’t do regrets.

  “I want to stay here,” I say.

  3

  SEDUCTION

  I have no idea what’s going to happen next. Harrison likes to talk himself up as a bit of a player, but I’ve never really seen him in action. Will he take my desire to stay in this little quiet room with him for what it is; an acceptance of whatever seduction he may or may not be planning? Or, will he simply think I’m an anti-social freak who goes to parties on her own dressed like a gothic punk slut.

  “You’re a strange girl,” he says softly and kind of tenderly.

  “You make that sound like a good thing,” I say and he smiles.

  “I guess I must like strange.”

  I don’t realize he is going to touch me until I feel his finger stroke softly over the skin on my neck. That one finger sends the nerve endings in my back buzzing like crazy. I feel like I’ve been jolted with electricity, or lust, or something equally exciting. I know I’m breathing erratically as he continues stroking, and I can’t look at him for fear of what I’ll see. While he’s doing this tender thing to me, I can pretend. It’s just me and my stepbrother, sitting on the sofa, having a cozy chat. But if I saw desire in his eyes it would be something totally different; something amazing and totally terrifying too.

  “Why did you come to the party,” he whispers.

  “I like parties,” I reply just as softly.

  “And dressing up?”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “And sitting in tiny book rooms with strange boys?” His breath gusts against my ear when he murmurs the last thing and I shiver from head to foot. I find that I can’t answer him now. The mesmerizing rhythm of his finger and the scent of him that I pick up now he’s moved closer, are almost too much for me to bear. I’m light headed, buzzing, crazy even. Crazy for my stepbrother.

  He doesn’t kiss my lips first. I guess that would be too obvious for Harrison. I should have known he’d go for the little patch of sensitive skin below my ear and just graze it with his soft lips. He nuzzles against my ear with his nose and the roughness of his chin scrapes against my neck. It feels so good. So amazingly good in fact that I moan just slightly. When I do, I feel him smiling against my neck.

  “So strange girls who come to parties alone and like to sit in little book rooms with strange boys like to get their necks kissed, do they?” he asks with a chuckle in his voice.

  “Uh-hu,” is all I can manage and he laughs softly.

  He shifts closer until our legs are pressed together and his hand is cupping the back of my head, pulling me towards his smiling face.

  Harrison’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me and my heart seems to stutter in my chest and then re-fire at a staggering rate as I simultaneously pray the kiss will be mind-blowing whilst also hoping he won’t somehow remove my wig or mask and revea
l who I am.

  When our lips touch it’s the softest kiss I’ve ever experienced, just a graze at first really, then a little press as he angles my head, pulling my bottom lip between his and sucking so gently I want to weep. I’ve imagined what kissing Harrison would be like so many times, but I had it completely wrong in my fantasies. I thought he’d be a grabby person, demanding with his kisses and forceful with his demands, but he isn’t.

  At least not now.

  Now it’s like he’s tasting me, feeling me out, and trying to work out what I like.

  I like it all.

  I want to tell him to just carry on doing what he’s doing because he’s doing it all right. He’s perfect for me in ways I didn’t even expect.

  When our tongues touch for the first time I have to lean into him, take hold of his huge muscled shoulder, and dig my fingers into it, just so I don’t float away. My reaction seems to spur him on because suddenly his kisses are more urgent, tongue sliding across mine like the precursor to fucking that it is.

  It’s that thought that has me remembering what I saw when I walked passed his room, the thing that spurred me to finally take action and do something about the lust and craving I’ve been feeling for Harrison since he moved into my house. I want to reach out and rest my hand in his lap. I want to know if he’s as turned on as I am. Everything is so hot between my thighs. I squeeze them together to try and release some pressure, but it only makes it worse.

  “Fuck you’re hot,” he says, pulling back and looking me in the eyes. My purple contacts are my protection against him recognizing me this close. He rubs my nose with the tip of his and kisses me again, this time hooking his arm around my back and pulling me forward. “Get onto my lap.” He’s tugging me now until my legs rest either side of his and my skirt is pushed up so high he must be able to see the tops of my holdups and my sheer black panties. He tugs me forward until my pussy is pressed into his lap and I can feel his massive dick straining against his pants. It’s like he has one of those nightsticks that doormen carry down his shorts and it presses against my clit in a way that makes me want to buck against him. Oh fuck. His fingers press into the soft flesh of my hips, delicious pain mixed with the pleasure of his frantic kiss. I can’t control my hands that want to grab hold of big firm chunks of him and squeeze. I settle on resting my hands on his chest, and what an amazing chest it is too. In my mind I see him standing naked in his room, pecs rounded, and stomach flat and rippled with a six-pack I could practically file my nails on. I don’t want all these clothes between us. I want skin against skin, pressing, sweating, sliding until we forget our names and lose our minds in each other. I want to see him come apart because I’ve made him feel that good. I want to watch him reach the moment of pleasure that feels so unbelievable that he forgets himself and just is.

  And I want to store it all up in my mind so I can remember this moment when he’s moved on and found someone else to love and I have to sit opposite him at thanksgiving and pretend I don’t feel the way I do about him. When I have to just be his stepsister again.

  We kiss and we kiss and I run my hands over his chest willing him to do more, but he seems reluctant and I don’t understand why. It’s me that slips my hands inside his costume and onto his naked skin. He’s so warm under my fingertips and so firm and when I stroke across his chest, I find his nipple and graze it with the point of my nail. Harrison jumps at the action but pulls me down against him harder, almost thrusting into my lap. His fingers run up the outside of my thighs until he finds the bare skin and squeezes. He doesn’t stop there, pushing the skirt of my dress up around my waist and guiding his hands to cup the cheeks of my ass, fingering the thin lace running between, stroking down between them and lifting me higher. I’m kneeling up now, raised in front of him, looking down as he stares between my legs with fire in his eyes. I grab onto the back of the couch for stability as he uses his index finger to trace a line down the front of my panties so softly I almost can’t feel anything, but at the same time it’s so unbelievably arousing.

  “Can I look?” he asks huskily and I want to tell him he already is but I don’t want to break the spell with my smart mouth. Instead, I slip my hand down between my legs and pull the material aside, baring myself to his heated gaze.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, adjusting his cock before he sucks on his finger to get it good and wet. I think he’s going to go straight for my clit, but I’m wrong. Harrison reaches his wet finger up and slips it into my mouth. “Suck,” he says, watching me move my head forward and take his finger down to the knuckle. I look into his eyes as I pull back, knowing how explicit it must look to see my red lips wrapped around his finger like that.

  He parts my pussy lips with one hand and uses his moistened finger to stroke my clit round and round. The pressure he uses is just perfect and the way he concentrates on the task is driving me insane. I roll my hips against his touch, look up to the ceiling and surrender to the intensity of feeling that being with Harrison this way is giving me.

  “Oh yeah, you like that,” he says, slipping his finger downwards into my wetness, pressing up and in so slowly my legs shake. “That looks so fucking good.” He pushes another finger in deep and twists his hand so first the tips of his fingers, then the joints graze my g-spot. I start to move, raising up and down, hooked on his hand and on his words. The sound of his voice hitching with arousal does something to me and I want to hear more.

  “Tell me what you want,” I whisper.

  “I want to feel you come,” he replies. “I want to feel your pussy flutter and hear the moans you’ll make. I want to play with your clit until it hurts and then make it feel so good you come again.”

  “Oh,” I gasp when he uses his other hand to stroke my clit, fingers still pushing and twisting inside me.

  “That’s it, baby.” Harrison’s voice cracks like he can’t believe what’s happening. Maybe he wasn’t expecting to get lucky tonight. Maybe he doesn’t usually do this kind of thing. Maybe I’m a terrible corrupting influence on him. It’s that thought that pushes me over the edge, grabbing onto the back of the couch and curing forward with my pleasure.

  “Mmmm,” is the only sound that comes from my lips, a keening noise that sounds barely human.

  “That’s it,” he says again, with a strange tone of awe in his voice as though he can’t quite believe what is happening either. Then he pulls me towards him and wraps his arms around my waist, holding me tight while I come down from the place in the stratosphere he sent me to. The kisses he presses onto my temple and cheek are tender and sweet.

  “You look fucking amazing when you come,” he whispers in my ear. I can hear the need in his voice and feel the evidence of his arousal beneath me. I want to satisfy him too.

  “Make me come again,” I say and he chuckles.

  “Demanding little thing aren’t you,” he replies cockily but the look on his face when I draw back and start to undo his pants is priceless. “Oh, you want that…”

  “Yeah, I do,” I whisper. “I want it all.”

  “Fuck,” is all he can say, helping me as we both fumble with his zipper, fingers tangling in our shared eagerness to get to the really good stuff. I let him free his cock and I watch as he fists the huge length of it, pulling it twice, up and down, so roughly that I think it must hurt.

  When I raise my eyes to his he’s smiling lazily. “You scared?”

  “Nah, I love a good challenge.”

  “You really are a very strange girl,” he says fondly, cupping my cheek and rubbing at the white make-up there. Not wanting to give him too much time to study me I slip my hand into the top of my holdups and pull out the foil packet I hid there earlier and hand it to him.

  “Get yourself ready.”

  His eyes sparkle as he takes the condom, tears it open and begins to sheath himself. I was careful to buy a large size – he really needs it – and my forethought seems to amuse him.

  “You only pull dudes with big dicks?” he asks.


  I shrug. “I throw back the tiddlers.”

  His body shakes with laughter but stops when I grab hold of his cock and squeeze it hard. I rise up over the top of it, stroking the head of it through my folds and up over my clit. It’s so rigid, so large that it almost doesn’t feel real. I know I’m going to struggle to take it all, but I’m going to try. My pussy is practically weeping for it when I settle him near my hole and start to push down.

  The stretching sensation is unbelievable, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I get it about an inch inside me by rocking my hips slowly and easing myself open around him.

  “Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “You’re so damn tight.”

  “And you’re so big, baby,” I whisper.

  “We’re perfect together,” he says grabbing my hips and helping me sink lower with little thrusts upwards. I feel so unbelievably full and open. He’s only part of the way in and it’s almost too much but then he pulls harder and slips in further and it feels so damn good I want to cry. “Look,” he says, his eyes between my legs. “Look at your sweet little pussy wrapped around my cock.”

  I look when he’s staring and I can understand why. He’s all but disappeared inside me and my pink pussy lips are flared around him like a split open rose. It’s the most explicit thing I’ve ever seen.

  “You feel so good,” I say, looking up into his eyes.

  “You haven’t felt the half of it.”

  He grabs hold of me around the ass, holding tight and shifts to the edge of the sofa. Then he’s standing and walking us to a side unit near the door. He sits me on top, still impaled on his dick, and moves the pictures and ornaments to a chair next to us. So considerate.

  When he’s done with the home furnishings he grasps my face around the chin and looks at me. “You want me to fuck you, baby,” he growls.

  I blink at the ferocity in his voice and my pussy clenches with excitement.

  “I think I just got my answer,” he smirks.

  The first thrust is slow as if he’s testing out the depth of me, and how much room he has to maneuver. There isn’t much. When he thrusts again it’s as if he’s decided he doesn’t give a fuck about anything. It’s so hard it knocks the breath from my lungs and the last ounce of sense from my head. “You – want – to – get – fucked – hard,” he grunts as he works his hips against me, pushing that huge cock in and out of my swollen pussy. I’m so wet I can hear the slippery noises loudly in the otherwise silent room. The party seems to be going on in another reality and I don’t care that there are people out there that could walk in on us at any second, because what Harrison is doing to me feels too damn good to care about anything except the next thrust.