Chapter Text
High school sweethearts. That’s what Sierra Rio-Jackson and John Jackson were, or at least it was what Sierra liked to think of them as. That whole ‘high school’ angle was lopsided in her direction. The loving couple had first met when Sierra was a junior, just shy of her eighteenth. At a party sucking down beers she wasn’t legally permitted to enjoy, of course, but it was nothing like that. He was just a nice guy.
Fun to joke around with and pretty cute besides, but it wasn’t like anything happened between them. He had a girl on his arm already, and Sierra wasn’t that kind of girl. She liked to have a good time as much as anyone else in their little corner of Jacksonville. Affluent, well-off, but idle in the way so many wealthy people are without a hunger for more out of life, always wanting distraction, entertainment.
Where other boys and girls decided to drop their pants for that fun though– Sierra did her Catholic parents proud. They wouldn’t have been happy about the parties, but at least they’d never learn that their precious daughter was a slut. She was going to wait for the right guy and the right time and the right place: a charming prince, her wedding night, and a newlywed suite.
It was at that party that she had an inkling that JJ would be that guy. That’s what everyone called him, if they didn’t share some blood with the guy. But still, nothing like that happened. He was out of reach. It was just a fanciful thought. She was seventeen and he was twenty-four, taking five years to make the most of a four-year undergraduate program. They met a few more times and a connection grew between them, but nothing happened.
Not until she was a senior in both years and school grade. JJ wasn’t the first guy to ask her on a date– but he was the first guy to get her flustered and excited at the prospect. He was the first guy she looked at and thought to herself, I could bring him home to meet my dad, and he wouldn’t reach for one of his guns.
Sierra’s daddy didn’t care about him being a prince charming, or being ’patient’.
But he was damn well impressed by his career trajectory: orthopedic surgeon. Sports medicine. It helped that Mr. Rio knew JJ already– he had gone to school with Sierra’s older brother, Carlos. They were both on the football team. Even more impressive to Mr. Rio, garnering way more approval than any doctoral aspirations, was the fact that JJ was on a collegiate football team.
Carlos wasn’t happy about it, unsurprisingly. A bit of a betrayal on one hand, and it sucked hearing his father laugh about how he had at least one son with the potential to go pro. Sierra felt for him. In turn, their madre worried for her. Mrs. Rio didn’t like the age difference, but she succumbed to JJ’s sweetness and Sierra’s assurances he was a gentleman.
The other boot dropped quickly enough, though. JJ was bound for the University of California, San Francisco. Best medical program in the States. There was a lot of back-and-forth drama about what that meant for their relationship, if Sierra would move with him or stay back at home, if they could keep it up long distance.
Some of it got ugly, but it all worked out in the end. The day he left was the day that he asked her to marry him– in four years, when he got his degree and could begin a residency back in Jacksonville. Sierra said yes, of course, and it was the happiest day of her life. Her engagement ring served as her promise ring too, to be faithful and to wait for her man to return.
It wasn’t easy, but they stayed true to each other, and true to themselves. Just like his undergraduate, it took JJ five years to clear through the four year program, but he did it. He came back to Sierra, just as they promised. The day before his residency began, they officially tied the knot in a gorgeous ceremony with all their friends and family in attendance.
She had her prince charming and she had her wedding night, and in the newlywed suite, the newly-named Sierra Rio-Jackson awaited him in bridal lingerie. There, she was ready to give him the most precious thing she could: her first time. Of course, she knew it wasn’t his, but she appreciated his honesty and didn’t judge him for it.
Unfortunately, her hubby was too sloshed to get it up and had to get up too early for his first day of residency. Their honeymoon would have to wait, as would their consummation– but things happened. Sierra didn’t judge him for it, even if she was left wet and waiting for a week before he could make the time to perform his husbandly duties to her.
He was a busy guy, her John Jackson. Her husband. The residency ate up so much of his time, and recreational football ate up much of the rest. It might’ve been months for her to lose her virginity, if not for the fact a hurricane disagreed with his plans to chuck the old pigskin around that lovely Sunday afternoon.
Wasn’t quite the magical experience she had in mind– it was okay, but she knew she had no experience and he was rusty and well, so it was. Sierra was just happy they could do it and enjoy it. Beneath him, she felt like a wife at last.
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Three Years Later:
The Jackson family were constant in celebrating their many blessings– but the big one was always on the 4th of July, on the day the U S of A celebrated its birth. There was a lot of history there, not that Sierra had all that much care for learning it. It was always a good time. For as long as she’d been wearing one of JJ’s rings, her whole family had been invited to celebrate in style.
Nearly seventy people were in attendance, and that was only three-fourths of the family tree. The mansion owned by the family’s patriarch had more than enough room for them all to mingle, to socialize, and catch up. Moreover, it had enough room for the boys– not the little ones but the grown men in various states of intoxication –to play.
The sprawling lawn turned into a small football field every year, one team led by JJ and the other by Carlos. Where her hubby was having good fun, Carlos was always hungry for some competitive domination. Every year, Carlos tried to win an ounce of their daddy’s affection.
And every year, JJ reminded him who went collegiate. Sierra felt bad for her brother, but not as bad as she felt watching her beloved hubby pitch peak performance as an athlete. They all said he could have gone pro. She didn’t know enough about the game to know if that was true or just wistful thinking, but she didn’t need to know to see that he was good.
The bad she felt watching her hubby play was different from the bad she felt for her brother.
One was platonic and loving. The other? God, I wish he would fuck me half as hard as he tackles other guys, Sierra thought as she watched her handsome stud go, and such was the nature of her wistful thinking. Not that she had any complaints, of course. Things just were what they were. She cheered on the boys' sidelines with the moms and the other wives and sisters and the quadlet of silicone-chested sugar babies everyone pretended were Grandpa Jackson’s nurses.
It was a good year for Carlos, but not good enough. “Way to go, babe!” Sierra sang out to her hubby as the game wrapped up, clapping and grinning, though he was a bit too busy to break from the post-game roughhousing with the single guys. She didn’t take that personally, even as so many of the husbands linked up with their wives to kiss and hug.
Just the way things were, that. Now that football was over for the day, it would soon be time for the post-game family photo: a bunch of ruffled, grass-stained bozos centric to all their other kin.
—As they were all clustering up for the photographer, though, Sierra noticed someone missing: “Wait! Let me go get Linus,” she called, and broke away from the gaggle of Jacksons and all their affiliates.
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Linus John Jackson was in the same place he was every year: the middle brother of his line of Jacksons, but the littlest of them. Twenty, but a whole ten inches shorter than the six years younger Harry Jackson. That put him at an even five feet, provided he was wearing socks. Without, he treaded the line of five foot and four-twelve.
He was no black sheep to his family unit– more a forgettable passover between athletes. Though Harry John Jackson wasn’t all that interested in football, he was dead set on a career in the NBA, and his family of course approved. He definitely had the height for it, only thirteen and with plenty of height left to go.
Where the other boys ‘played’, LJ gamed. He was comfortable beneath the shade of the grand oak alongside the improvised football field. Beneath him a blanket was spread, a few snacks to one side of him. On the other lay the power brick for his Steam Deck, which itself was propped on his raised knees. They could make him come out for the family reunion, but it wasn’t like they wanted him in it.
He wasn’t like the rest of them, he knew, and over the years everyone else– family and peers alike –made sure he knew it. So it all was. At least, they didn’t want him in it anymore. They used to make him play in the football game every year as a lark, but when his big brother broke his arm tackling him three years ago, it’d been enough of a buzzkill to earn the wee man some clemency.
Still, he enjoyed himself. It was nice out, and he was on a serious roll in Elden Ring. So close, he thought as he stared down wide-eyed at the screen, hyper-focused. Just a little more! Just a few more attacks and I’ve got her! Besting Malenia was the last thing left on his checklist before he would finish the game and move on to something new.
Defense though, defense… she’ll one shot me, Linus thought, shoulders tense as his thumbs worked the joysticks. His eyes widened subtly as the boss’ second phase wound up for one of her signature strikes. Time the dodge! “Come on, do it, do it…!” he urged himself.
“Oh hey, is that the new Gameboy? I used to love playing Pokemon, are they still making those games?” came a voice effortlessly sweet and musical to his ears. And it of course came at the worst possible time, startling him out of his concentration. His knees bumped up and his Deck dropped aside as he squeaked a most unmasculine squeak.
“LET YOUR FLESH BE CONSUMED,” Malenia intoned, and a second later came the familiar sound of player death. Before Linus looked up he stared down at the screen, a black bar fading in with the red letters he had grown accustomed to seeing: YOU DIED.
“Oh! Sorry,” Sierra laughed mirthfully, “I guess that’s not a Pikachu you were fighting, huh?”
Just kill me, Linus thought. Just kill me right now. With sulking shoulders, he glanced up at his sister-in-law, his amber eyes weighed down by black bags and fatigue. She was hard to look at, in the sense that she was very easy to look at.
Especially bent over towards him to peer at both him and the handheld’s screen, her hands on her knees, shoulders up and back bent. Sierra was guilty of a few things. The interruption just was what it was, a misdemeanor. Felonious, though, was her beauty and her thoughtlessness about it: she could light up the darkest night with her smile. And the cleavage created by the low cut of her sundress? Too tempting. It was a pretty garment, but it had nothing on the lady it clothed, the pattern of its colors evoking a tequila sunset.
Oh my God, kill me right fucking now, LJ prayed as he struggled not to fall into the thrall of that cleavage. Spaghetti straps. Why did she have to wear spaghetti straps? The neckline dipped enough that he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra– well that, and its lack of a back. One good slip and her full bosom would come rushing out, and in all likelihood JJ would be over to murder him in seconds. I just want to beat Elden Ring before I die, but please just kill me now.
“LJ? You okay, baby bro?” Sierra prompted after a moment, her smile fading slightly, all genuine concern.
“Y-yeah,” Linus cleared his throat and glanced away, at his ‘Gameboy’. “It’s called a Steam Deck.” He hated that she called him baby bro; she didn’t call Harry that. Probably because he’s tall enough to look her in the eye without breaking his neck, he thought glumly.
“Oh, cool. So that’s the second Switch thing? Anyway, c’mon. Photo time. You can catch ‘em all afterwards,” Sierra teased, reaching down to grasp his wrist. “I think I’ve still got a link cable if you need anything from Pokemon Yellow.”
He went with her reluctantly, in mumbling silence, well aware the picture would have gone ahead without him. Every year, LJ’s natural inclination was to stand a little away from everyone else, to give himself some personal space, and usually he was able to stay quiet enough to get it.
That year, though, Sierra stayed right by his side. And she made sure he was right against her side, and those lush tits were against his shoulder. His leg brushed against hers. Worst of all was her smell. Whatever it was she had on for a fragrance, he couldn’t name it, but it was heavenly– and he couldn’t stay by her side any longer than that.
He had to get away from her. He was getting hard, and he couldn’t be around her. Not like that.
The moment she loosened her gentle (yet seemingly ironclad) grip on him, Linus was gone like the wind, or at least like a dust cloud kicked up by a powerful gust– a brown-haired blur scattering quickly.
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Sierra loved her baby bro. She had always wanted one, but her parents never bothered with a hat trick, disinterested in hockey. All that shyness and awkwardness… to her, they posed a challenge, and had for the seven years she had known him. Linus needed to be included, and she was pretty sure by the time seven years turned ten, she’d manage to crack his shell.
At every juncture, she tried to be a good sister to him. That was how she ended up lugging around his Steam Deck in its carrying case, power brick tucked under one arm, her own sorbet-shaded Stanley Quencher in the other. Right back to his game was where she first looked for him.
That he had left it behind– well, that worried her a good deal. He never left his game doohickey behind.
Questioning some relatives got her a rough location for where he would be. Seen inside. Seen in the east wing of the house. And from there, her ears drew her towards his location. With everyone else outside, the repetitive sounds he was making were like a klaxon. Lots of grunting.
Oh my God, is he beating himself up or like. Do zoomers cut or was that just a millennial thing? Oh my God, Sierra thought, and with new urgency she rushed down the hall. That someone was coming should have been very obvious to Linus– her heeled sandals clacked loudly on the tile floor as she ran. In the bathroom!
In her well-intended rush to get through the door, the encased Deck and its power brick dropped on the floor to free up a hand for the knob. It was not locked, if it even had one, and opened easily as she exclaimed his name: “Linus, don’t!”
–He stopped mid-doing, and she stopped still as he slowly lifted his head and turned it to stare at her with white-faced terror. Sierra didn’t react the same way to what she caught him doing. First her face spoke of the relief she felt. Thank God. He wasn’t cutting himself.
But he was beating himself.
Just off, not smacking himself or bashing against the counter. In the ten minutes that they had been apart, Linus had stripped down– all that baggy clothing thrown careless to the bathroom’s floor –and gotten in the shower. There, he leaned over the drain, forearm against the wall, fist tight.
His other hand was tighter, grasping upon the largest cock that Sierra had ever seen in person. LJ made JJ look like what he was to his father, truly: a junior. Granted, it was the only other cock that Sierra had seen in person, but the scale of the thing was borderline unhinged relative to LJ’s diminutive size.
Preemie, her mother, had once explained. Two months early.
The scrawny little man was jacking off. “Uh,” he squeaked, “this, this isn’t what it looks like, uh, uh, oh fuck, shit, fuck. Uhm!” Linus started to straighten up, but froze up as Sierra began to move again.
She smiled and tilted her head. Where he was white, her warmly-tanned skin bore hints of a flush in her cheeks. Embarrassed? Far from it.
Sierra felt flattered. And for the sake of giving Linus some privacy, she took a step and closed the door.
A step inside. The door, closed behind herself. “What are you doing,” Linus sounded strangled, as though strangling his python was an impediment on his windpipe. He started to turn away from her. “I-I’m busy here!” Change of tune, but not one that swayed Sierra.
For four years, Sierra had waited for her man to come make her a wife.
And for three years, her sex life had been seven lays short of stillborn altogether. Seven times in three years, that was how many times her husband fucked her total. Not seven a month or a year. Seven times in three years. She didn’t kvetch and she didn’t pout about it, as much as she wished for more: instead, she had gotten quite good at taking care of herself. With online assistance of the pornographic variety.
It had been very educational, that assistance– though perhaps she took the wrong lessons from it, seeing how easily she justified her actions. Just like any step-brother, step-sister video. “Did I do that to you?” she asked as she set her Stanley on the sink’s counter.
Linus made a noise not dissimilar to retching. “Maybe,” Sierra said in a lower voice, her sandals clicking into the shower stall with him, “you should let me give you a hand with that. Take some responsibility for my actions.”
“I-I don’t need any–” Linus tried to make himself small, turning away to hide himself from her, pushing himself into the corner of the shower. She couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight of his naked back. His refusal turned whimper.
Scrawny, but that cock– the size didn’t matter as much as knowing it was hard because of her. Wasn’t like she overlooked how he squirmed around her, she just ignored it. Until now.
“Hey, baby brother, it’s okay. Helping is what family is for. And we’re family, right?” Sierra suggested, as she heard so many times before. She paused a foot away from him, not that the stall was much bigger: enough for two adults her size to comfortably share, certainly. Her hands took her sundress by the skirt and peeled it up and over, and one of Grandpa Jackson’s shower handholds accepted it as a draping.
And that’s all I’m going to do, Sierra thought, too aroused not to be comfortable with where she was going. Helping. It’s not like she hated her husband, she just wanted some action, and this wouldn’t even come close to actual sex.
The sound of fabric rustling had Linus daring to look back at her, and his eyes seemed ready to roll back in a faint at the sight of hert. A thong of black lace was the only thing that covered Sierra up. Otherwise, she was all legs and curves. For their fullness, her tits were incredibly pert, tipped with dusky rose nipples that had already stiffened in thanks to Linus making her feel like the desirable woman she was. Her hips flared out from her tiny waist to counter-balance them, either aspect enough to entice.
But so too was her smile, gone wicked, hazel eyes rapt with aroused interest. Long and lush, her straightened brunette hair hung along her shoulders, streaked with some blonde courtesy of the sun that gave her a smattering of freckles. “You were making me feel overdressed,” she teased, and then took a step forward.
Through that step she bent, reaching down to hook her thong down, the next two steps taking her out of it.
Linus quickly turned his head back away and whimpered, “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” Sierra promised him, and a second later her breasts were brushing against his back, then pressing against it. Her thong, she half-slung like a hat over his head. They had made plenty of incidental contact with him over the years, but never so fully, or deliberately. “I’m just going to help you get off. It’ll be quick. It’s not a big deal,” she promised, as her hands swooped around him. First an embrace, one-sided, spoon-like, and then–
Then they went down. They went right down in a steady trail along his body, as her chin came to rest atop his shoulder. “You should really give these a trim,” she mused as she felt the coarseness of his untended pubes. “Such a handsome guy deserves a haircut. He’d look good with it short.”
Sierra’s hands showed no hesitation or doubt. She didn’t feel any inside, either– just interest, matched by the investedly wanton grin spreading across her lips. Seven fucks, and number seven had been almost four months prior. It had been killing her, watching JJ tumble and throw himself around, knowing she wouldn’t get any action. This opportunity…!
It wouldn’t change anything about her marriage. Linus wouldn’t say a word. And she was just helping.
Another whimper, and he whispered: “Y-you can stop now, I know it’s weird.”
He wasn’t wrong, but Sierra massaged along his freakishly well-hung cock with the same lust that led her to entering the room. “It’s not normal, what you’ve got here. But that just makes it more special,” she said with a warm giggle. When her fingers wrapped around him, both hands began to move in unison, stroking down and back towards herself, down and back towards herself. “You should be proud of it. Is this why all your clothes are four sizes too big?”
Linus took a breath, stubbornly silent– and that was even more of a challenge to Sierra than his shyness. Get him off, and make him proud. Yeah. Her grin widened, as did her grasp on him.
His girth wasn’t wrist-thick for her, but it wasn’t far from it, and from how his stiffness felt to her touch?
He wasn’t even fully erect. His stiffness was partial at best, with plenty of give and flop. And plenty more fun left to give, if the dampness her fingers encountered while gliding over his crown was any indication. “Tell me you’ve measured this, baby brother. I bet it’s like, six inches right now.”
She hadn’t measured her hubby’s. And frankly, she had never been allowed to handle him long enough to get a good sense. Hadn’t even seen it that hard that often. Sex was under the covers or in the dark.
“W-what? Uh.” A moment’s groaning, and then a reluctant mumble: “It’s…it’s seven, soft.”
“Oh. Wow. No kidding?” Sierra giggled again, before nuzzling her cheek to his nape. “Turn around and let me take a good, long look at it.” The next words that slipped out of her lips felt like a bridge too far, a step over a line she could never uncross, but wrong? They were not wrong. They were honest and they felt right, damn right. “It’s so much bigger than JJ’s little JJ.”
For a moment, Linus could only shiver against her, wordless but not silent amidst faint groans that failed to sound like protest. Sierra didn’t stop stroking him, simultaneously patient but eager. The earlier complaints didn’t feel serious to her, after all. At no point did he reach down and try to remove her hands, and she told herself– if he really tried to stop me, I’d stop. This is just like politely refusing a gift. He’s all about that Chinese anime stuff and they politely refuse gifts a few times before taking them, right?
Then he whispered with a glimmer of hope, something that sounded like the barest beginnings of self-confidence that would be long lost, if it ever existed in the first place. “Really?”
“Really,” Sierra promised. While it was true that she didn’t have a good sense of her husband’s actual size, she did know that the few times she’d gotten to grasp him by the shaft, her fingers easily closed around it. Not so now, not with LJ. “He might’ve gotten all the football genes or whatever, but down here, he’s got nothing on you. Bet he could never stand being in a shower room with you.”
“H-he’s never seen–” Linus started to mumble, then clamped his mouth shut, shoulders growing rigid. Barely rigid, given his comparative frailty, but as tense as the muscles beneath were capable of getting. In light contrast to that, his backside– pressed against Sierra’s thighs –left her skin in a clumsy rutworthy thrust along her hands. He grunted and then he gasped. “Sierra,” he then hissed out, a final plea. “I-if you don’t stop…!”
“Baby brother,” Sierra giggled again, her hands rising to the peak of his Mount Cockmore, each gliding over his crown to sop up more of his over-ample precum before getting back in line for another go. “You need to relax. It’s fine,” she promised, feeling bright and lively inside. “Unless…”
She was always bright and lively, friendly and kind, pleasant and good-humored. But alive– this one, tender, intimate moment with her protesting brother-in-law? It brought a color and excitement to her world that had been lacking since she saw JJ off for medical school.
“Unless my hands aren’t soft enough? Or you’re not attracted to me the way that I think you are?” Sierra teased further, her voice pouting but her lips smirking against his nape. Sufficiently over-slickened with his pre, her hands curled in totality around his girth, heel against the forefinger of the other, and began a rapid pumping. “I don’t know who else could have given you this kind of boner, though…”
No. Not lacking. It was new, that color, that excitement– deep down she knew she was nothing like this before her hubby. Sierra had certainly never done anything remotely like it with anyone else, either. But all those times she had ‘taken care of herself’ had perhaps aligned her for this moment.
“Sierra,” Linus squeaked desperately, and it was no final plea. It was an announcement, one she felt as well as heard as his cock pulsated beneath her hands, twitching with vigor. His hips rutted again and he threw his head back, knocking against her brow, but she held tight and held strong. When the moment came, when he came, his release was explosive. All the power he lacked throughout the rest of his life seemed to manifest between his cock and balls and hips, the lattermost part of his anatomy recoiling back with the force of his ejaculate.
“Holy–” Sierra started to cuss, but disbelieving and astonished laughter killed the swear word dead in her throat. His backward bump was abrupt and violent, and she only managed to keep her footing by way of mass and leverage and proper girding. That initial pulsation along his cock surged again and again, and she could feel every knot-like rope of cum that barreled through his shaft and to the slit atop his crown.
It was thick. It was dense. And the sound of splatter on the wall only made it seem much moreso, not that Sierra could see it past Linus. As she laughed, her hands continued to work him, and as she worked him he wallowed in panting exertion, one hand finally leaving the wall to grab at her wrist, iron-tight. He didn’t try to stop her though, just holding on as his cock absolutely blasted the wall’s corner.
… Sierra’s overample consumption of pornographic material had served to set up some unrealistic expectations of what sex entailed, perhaps. And perhaps too it had normalized step-sisters and sisters-in-law aiding their step-brothers and brothers-in-law getting off when they struggled.
Maybe it set up some unrealistic expectations of penile size and the camera magic that exaggerated a load of cum. But those unrealistic expectations seemed tame just by virtue of how long Linus kept busting. She kept pumping, insistent on keeping it up until he was finished, and he just kept going. His panting breaths turned to distressed and overstimulated whimpers, and still she kept going, because how much longer could he go?
At some point, it would stop. At some point, he would soften–
After two minutes though, her laughter died away, and she kept going in stark awe of the impossible. Those dense knots of heavy spunk just kept coming. “Fuck,” Sierra whispered well beneath his incoherent noises. “Jesus fucking Christ, Linus, you’re amazing.”
He didn’t seem to hear the compliment. If he did– he was in no state to thank her for it. What finally stopped Sierra was nothing he did, but the strain put upon her two wrists by overexertion. She had kept going through the building aches, but it was only when her body began to fight against further strokes that she gave up. Shifting her hands to rest upon his thighs, she allowed the both of them a moment’s respite.
As he quivered and slouched back against her, almost crying, Sierra leaned forward and peeked over his shoulder at the wall’s corner. It was a fancy bathroom that Grandpa Jackson had, and the shower stall was fancier, with what he claimed to be real streaks of gold running through it.
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” Sierra gawked at what had become of the corner. Inches along either of the met walls, starting from Linus’ crotch-height and running straight down to the floor, all that gorgeous black and gold-riddled stone was whitewashed with seed. “Linus, where did all of that come from?” she asked in wonder.
He just whimpered nothing in response, so Sierra’s fingers went exploring, not quite looking down at his cock. An incidental touch to his cock made him jerk awkwardly, but only once. It surprised her that it still seemed so stiff, but she did not linger there, reaching down to delicately touch where her hubby had never let her go: his balls.
They needed less of a shave than his crotch proper, but the size of the things– they seemed as big as her hands would be, curled into fists. Her touch was delicate, but not delicate enough to keep Linus from squirming. The very first touch resulted in the pair seeming to jerk up, as though retreating against sudden cold– but the heat of her fingers enticed them back down. Moreover, she could feel them work deep within his scrotum. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Sierra whispered again.
Three times, she had just taken the Lord’s name in vain.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Linus echoed plaintively, as he seemed to recover. “C-can you… let me go…?”
“Absolutely not,” Sierra responded impulsively. “Come on, I have to see it now! That’s crazy. Look…”
Half a second passed before Sierra knew what she was going to say, and when she said it, she said it with a purr in her voice her husband had never heard. “If you turn around to show me yours, I kind of have to show you all of mine, baby brother. There’s nothing to be shy about if we’re both naked, right? And–”
Another line, this one not walked over or sprinted past, but rather pole vaulted beyond. “–Are you going to tell me you’ve never jacked off to me before? I bet you’ve thought about me naked a lot,” Sierra said with a grin.
His hand relaxed on her wrist, and with a lot less fight than Sierra was prepared for Linus weakly and bashfully whispered, “Fine. Just– just move over to the side, I don’t want to get this all over my back,” he said of the cum dripping down the wall’s corner.
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Sierra obliged giddily, and the two took a scooth one foot to the left. She took a half-step back from him, her cock-slimed hands lowering to rest on her hips. Her feet took the only right stance for the lurid moment between in-laws; just beyond shoulder-width apart, joined by a casual but very deliberate arch to her back that rolled her shoulders back.
He turned more slowly, and far more reluctantly. LJ had already had a peek of her, but his eyes were cast nervously aside after the turn, as though some part of her might come alive and bite him. “Hey. You can look. It’s okay,” she said with a bit more soft-spoken self-awareness, and slowly he allowed himself to lift his eyes.
Or rather, he dragged them up from her heel-clad feet slowly. Sierra’s long legs were all an even shade, that warm tan perfected with nude sunbathing. The smooth skin lacked any marring; some freckles and a couple of moles, maybe, but those were well-hidden by her tone, and only a marring if their owner saw them as such. They were perfectly hairless, everything below the neck lasered away on her husband’s dime.
She held steady for his stare, of course, even as it crept up, even as it grew more apprehensive towards her thighs. They were toned and shapely, and held a natural gap at their apex, not quite closing even if she stood with her knees together. Standing proud and exposed as she was though, that wasn’t evident.
What was evident was the state of her bald pussy. On her warmly-tanned skin, its flush across her labia was a dark thing, surrounding even darker lips that were not shy whatsoever. Although she had worked up no sweat that afternoon and the showerhead above them was decidedly off, it glistened amply with dew that could only have one source.
Linus swallowed hard and reached out to grab the support bar that held Sierra’s sundress, starting to shake. He almost didn’t dare look higher than her hands, situated atop the rockworthy width of her heels. For all his meager size, though, LJ had hot red blood running through his veins. After a moment’s struggle, his eyes rushed up past the leanly-sculpted stretch of her stomach to her pertly plump tits. There, his shakes built, and it seemed for a moment that he was again at the point of fainting.
Normally, that would get Sierra moving to make sure he didn’t fall flat on his ass– concern came easily to her, with all her compassion and empathy. But as her brother-in-law grew cripplingly intoxicated on her proudly shown curves, she was milking far more joy out of his shy showing.
“That’s so… handsome,” Sierra finally whispered of his cock, grinning ear to ear, her pussy’s flush matched by cheek’s blush. “I love it, Linus. You’ve got such a gorgeous cock.” He made a faint noise at that.
Handsome. Gorgeous. Not the words most people would use to describe a dick, but not so many straight swinging women were as dick-deprived as Sierra. “You haven’t even shrunk after all of that.” In frank point of fact, he seemed to be even a bit bigger than the quick gawk she had upon entering the room. “You don’t have like… some kind of implant, right?” she asked, with a cock of her head.
“N-no,” Linus looked away shyly and grimaced. “Everyone, uhm… thinks I never had a growth spurt…”
“They were just all for your cock. Wow,” Sierra breathed, a breath that lifted her chest and snapped LJ’s eyes right back to her tits. “Woooooow. Okay,” she giggled again, and then swallowed something rising in her throat. “Well, it’s incredible.”
She didn’t let herself think at that moment. Thinking might’ve stopped her from stopping, from recognizing how far she’d already gone. Sierra took a step forward, and her hands went to Linus’, awkwardly dangling at his sides. He made a little squeak as she lifted them and brought them to her hips, forcing his fingers to grasp her curves. “Was I right?” she asked him with a smirk and a glint in her hazel eyes. “Did I get you hard?”
“... y-yeah,” Linus stammered, unwilling to do much touching of his own, but he accepted her guidance, leading him up, up to her waist, not even really able to hold them tight.
The blush of her cheeks burned darker, and Sierra followed the trail– both the obvious next question, and the upward trajectory of her hands. “How about you jacking off to me? Have you done that before?”
“Y-you’re my sister-in-law,” LJ gulped, but then– then –his hands were coming up over her weighty tits. What good sense and ethics he possessed seemed kneecapped by the sudden surge in libido that brought upon him, small hands grasping at their lushness. “Yes,” he squeaked. “So much.”
She brought his hands inward and further upward, over her nipples. Those, he pressed his palms against, just grasping and scrabbling at her tits in overly-aroused wonder.
Alive– feeling alive and feeling stupendously horny for her scrawny step-brother were one and the same. “What do you think about when you’re choking your wholeass Tyrannosaurus Rex to me?” Sierra asked quietly, her eyes distracted and hazy. She abandoned his hands and reached down, lightly pushing him by the chest to get his back against the black marble wall– and beginning a downward sweep over his thin, over-pale skin.
“I–” LJ hesitated. Sierra’s hands reached his pelvis, and found his cock again. He grunted as her hips swung forward and their bellies briefly met, though between them rose his monstrous cock– warm and volcano-like against her skin. “I don’t want to say,” he managed to squeak.
His cock also managed to jettison a surprising amount of pre-cum, thin and clear and leaving a trail up and down her sternum. Sierra giggled raucously and wet her lips, further pushing herself against him. With one hand she stroked along his cock, and the other ran low, briefly cuddling his balls before she whispered: “Fine. That’s okay. I’m going to give you a little more help anyway. I can’t just leave you this hard, baby bro.”
“It’s– it’s fine, it’s really fine, it’ll soften down in a little bit–”
“Yeah. After I help you,” Sierra interjected, and then she stole away her tits from him, if only by virtue of free-falling into a squat before her brother-in-law, heel-perched with wide-splayed knees. The noise that came out of his throat was strangled, as though he couldn’t draw a breath at the sudden proximity of her lips to his ferociously fat cock.
In contrast, that proximity had Sierra gasping with giddy glee. Helping LJ was akin to helping herself, really– she needed more than JJ could give her, and his brother had so much to give.
There were so many things she saw in porn that she wanted to try, and JJ was always too tired, too busy, too something… her hands grasped him by the base, keeping him towered high, admiring the length of his thickness.
At a distance and a bit softer, she had figured six inches. Closer and better informed though… He’s double that, at least. Sierra glanced up at her brother-in-law past his cock and balls, then grinned merrily, ear to blushing ear. “I bet you think about me sucking your cock. And that, step bro, isn’t cheating. It’s just step-cheating,” she said, quoting one of her fave videos. “Just like how it isn’t incest if it’s with you!”
“S-step bro?! INCEST?!” Linus squeaked, though he didn’t overthink it. “B-but your vows!”
Sierra made a new vow on the spot, tongue-first, tasting cock for the first time, starting to streak her tongue up his shaft. That was something her hubby always scurried away from– just last year, she prepared to celebrate Steak and a BJ day, frying up his favorite strip in an apron and nothing else.
He had chided her for being unsanitary, and moreover for blowjobs being all-around unsanitary too. If oral sex was unsanitary, Sierra never wanted to be clean again. The flavors were more than just agreeable to her taste buds. All its inherent musk appealed to her on a deeper level, appealing to needs long unmet.
Linus groaned, downright petrified above her. She groaned too, in lustful appreciation of him– slowly tilting him down as her tongue went higher. More hours than Sierra would ever admit went into studying how porn stars sucked cock, but frankly, that theoretical knowledge wasn’t helpful in abrupt practice.
Not just for having never done it before, but for the fact no cock she had seen in porn was anywhere near as stupidly big as Linus’ cock was. Twelve inches felt too small to her, now that she was lapping upon him. A whole foot of cock. How likely was that? What would the world record be, if she grabbed her phone and looked it up–
Oh fuck, did I leave my phone in my purse? And that’s back in the car, right? Sierra paused with her lips just beneath her brother-in-law’s crown, impulse and arousal flaring as one. I kind of want a picture with this–
Her eyes bounced up to gaze thirstily upon Linus’ face, slack-jawed and shaking, both pale and flushed, and genuinely starting to sweat. God, he’s so much cuter than I ever realized, she thought, before that lip-hover turned to another line-crosser.
Not kissing her brother-in-law was just obvious. But kissing his dick, that was just as obviously safe. Sierra’s soft, pillowy lips dragged up to kiss the underside of his crown, and that kiss dragged wetly higher, his cock tilted lower. Her hands cradled just beneath the crown where her lips had been, and she had with his dick the kind of kiss she never could with JJ. Long and lasting. Languid, yet luscious too– her husband was squeamish at the idea of French kissing, but Linus’ cock just seemed to stiffen more for it, leaking that sweetish pre all over her tongue.
Wonder if his phone is in here. Wouldn’t that be something to put on Instagram? Sierra giggled around him, her lips parting, and without thinking– all instinct, following one action with natural follow-up –the long-suffering housewife took him into her mouth. He hissed, but it was all that Sierra could do not to take him immediately deeper. It just felt so right, having him inside her mouth, her lips cushioning just under his ridge. There, her tongue was free to roll over him and flicker over his cum-slit, still bearing hints of his protein’s taste.
Her eyes closed, and she moaned headily around him.
Sierra wanted to taste more of that, and that thirst only sped her tongue’s work, clumsy as it was sloppy. Her hands stroked down from his shaft to his hips and then his thighs, grasping them for support as she tried to bob her head. His thickening size kept her from managing much in that regard: the initial fit worked, but still he was growing.
Sliding her hands back up after no more than thirty seconds, she was shocked to feel the difference in his shaft.
Although Sierra’s hands had fit around him before, now?
Now her fingers couldn’t curl around to touch the heel of her hand, and she could feel him grow thicker. Her eyes opened to partial lids and stared down his pole, dumbstruck by what she observed. The only sensible comparison was a timelapse of a bread loaf rising as it baked, expanding. He was already big– and in getting bigger, his cock almost resembled a traffic cone. Its ongoing expansion spread up along him slowly, in the same sense a lumbering giant might slowly walk as fast as a much smaller jogger.
Lucky for them both, Sierra had always loved a good loaf of bread, and she wanted to take up baking.
Even more luckily, that bulging girth seemed to hit a limit near his base– though considering that limit left him about as wide as a Gatorade bottle at its widest, ‘twas a luck double-edged. Powerade might have been easier, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Her hands slipped and slid around him in an overeager rush, slippery thanks to his pre.
If the widening of his cock continued, he wouldn’t fit in her mouth for much more than a minute. If she wanted to make him cum in her mouth– she had a minute.
And she very much wanted that. She wanted him to cum in her mouth, and on her face, and on her tits, and on her ass, and on her pussy– and husband be damned, the increasingly wanton wife wanted to feel him cum in her pussy too. A gatorade bottle wasn’t going to fit down her throat, but her pussy? Her pussy was made to stretch.
Sierra gave him her all, inefficient and wild as it all was, trying to mouth-fuck herself on something too big, hands sliding up and down the absurd thickness it held. Her wrists quickly began to ache, not recovered from the first orgasm she gave him, but she pushed them through the pain as adrenaline met arousal and teamed up within her.
Without the light and fan turned on, the room’s orchestra was simple if lurid, all schlocking and fleshy wetness and gasping, both around Linus’ cock and above it too. The scrawny little guy knocked his head back against the shower’s wall and grasped the support bars for the life of him, hips beginning to move of their own volition. There, dormant instincts came to the fore within him, just as they had with–
“SIERRA,” he shrilly gasped.
A warning. Sierra snubbed it just as she snubbed the first, all slutty energy as she struggled to mouth him, to stroke him, inexperienced with cock and certainly nothing like him. Just as he was inexperienced with women, and the closest thing that he ever had to a blowjob was using a Fleshlight his cock couldn’t actually fit inside.
Unlike that fleshlight– “SIERRA!” Linus nearly screamed, hips rutting forth.
And she nearly screamed with him, delighted and titillated. One of her hands grasped his cock for dear life, while the other dropped to find her long-neglected pussy, two fingers quickly slotting into her tiny little hole to give it an eighth of the filling his cock could.
The forcefulness of his nut rushing through him nearly broke her grasp on him. And it came just as close to shoving Sierra right off of him tongue and all, but the increasingly snug fit of his head inside her mouth made it too tight a squeeze.
She got what she wanted from him– perhaps a little too much. She didn’t taste any of it right away, with how it rocketed against the back of her throat and flooded down, necessitating rapid swallows to try and keep up with his release.
Further necessity led to Sierra releasing his cock altogether, though the necessary thing there was getting fingers on her clit, rapidly rubbing herself in search of a quick orgasm to match his. Lesser (to her libido, though not to her continued life) was the necessity of not milking out more of the endless cum-tide he seemed to possess; she couldn’t possibly swallow his follow-up. And it wasn’t like the greedy gulping was enough on its own, either. She struggled, gleefully, voraciously so, but against a cock like Linus Jackson’s, one didn’t win. One didn’t want to win. Once a little bit of it managed to tease her airways, she was hacking and coughing around him–
Were she able to open her eyes, Sierra would have seen his eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open. If his cock was a rocket, then he was sent far into space at the height of his first blowjob, wild and messy as it was. His balls visibly bulged as they mustered up more nut.
And then came a loud knocking on the door, and a familiar voice calling out from the other side. “Hey, Itty Bitty Littty, were you just calling out for Sierra? I can’t find her anywhere and we need to get going, I’m gonna be late for my foosball tournament.”
That slowed the cum. Not Sierra, though, who finally had the break she needed from the relentless storm, and a chance to pull him back– to really taste the enticing sweetness of his cum on her tongue. Her eyes lidded open slowly as the silence broke.
“Itty Bitty Litty, I know you’re in there! I heard you and your stupid fucking Xbox thing is here too.” JJ exclaimed. “Come on, man. She was looking for you, has she been here?”
When he finally clawed enough of himself back to planet Earth, Linus opened his eyes, sharing a look with Sierra– fearful on one side, and torrid on the other.
“N-no, uhhh… yeah? Yeah, she left my Xbox Deck– I mean, Steam Deck –and said she was uh, I think the kitchen, or something,” Linus squeaked.
“Got it. Thanks, pipsqueak.”
Not bad. Sierra grinned a sloppy grin as she peeled back from him slowly, a loud pop almost betraying her presence to her hubby beyond the door. Cum that overflowed before she could swallow to make room for it ran along the corners of her mouth, and mixed with her saliva for the lurid kiss she planted right atop his cream-leaking tip.
“M-my life just flashed before my eyes,” Linus weakly whimpered, closing his eyes and swallowing deep.
Sadly for Sierra, so much would need to be left undone– and so much could never be shared again, once they left the room. Even then she knew it had to be a one-time thing, but at least in the immediacy of its aftermath, cunt-slickened fingers slipping out of her without joy, she had no regrets. “Think I’ve got time to get some for the road?” she asked, her eyes downright wicked once more.
***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***
“God, I’m parched. Should have snagged a Perrier on the way out… what’ve you got in here, anything good?” JJ asked, abandoning their Taurus’ wheel with one hand to go for the Stanley Quencher shoved into the cup-holder.
The hand bearing Sierra’s wedding ring slapped out at her husband’s. “Limeade milkshake,” she claimed with a big smile and wiggling brows.
That was enough for JJ to jerk away from her, and give her a baffled look sidelong. “Babe. You know I’m allergic to limes… limeade milkshake?” he asked right thereafter, as though that itself was more offensive. “What the hell? There’s no way that’s a real thing,” he said, eyes off the road.
“Made it myself in the kitchen. That’s why I disappeared on you,” the pristine-appearing housewife told her beloved hubby, smiling wide.
“You’ve got a little something on your teeth,” JJ grunted, then turned forward just in time to keep himself from veering into the other lane with a huff. “Probably that gross milkshake.”
Sierra tilted her head and let her lips slide shut, idly running her tongue over her teeth.
It wasn't a milkshake she tasted, though that wasn’t surprising. Its taste clung heavy to her taste buds, nothing at all like limeade. More custard-like in its sweetness… and its thickness too. Sierra reached down to pick up the cup and took its straw between her lips, looking sidelong at her hubby with affection as she sucked on the straw.
She had to suck very thoroughly to slurp up the heavy contents therein, and smiled at him around it. What she had done, it had been harmless, and he’d never know about it– even as she tasted the fruits of her third labor right beneath his nose. A one-time thing, that’s all it was.
Her bare pussy slowly but surely making a damp mess of her skirt and the seat beneath, though, claimed otherwise. With my panties, he’ll never need help again. Nice little thank-you and memento of our little minute together, Sierra thought further, sighing as the straw slid from her lips and the excess spunk risen within began to sink back down.
In just one week though– opportunity would rear its beautiful, overly-thick cock-head. And that opportunity would be too tempting for Sierra to ever turn away from.