I'm going down, I'm getting to my knees...
He raises his hand, and for a second I’m blinded. When the spots fade from my eyes, I see that it’s a golden disc catching the last rays of the sun. The ruby in its center glows with a mesmerizing fire.
“That is…gorgeous,” I gasp. “Where did you get it?”
“Nowhere very exotic,” he says. “It’s just a few miles from here, actually.”
“Can I hold it?” I ask. I feel like a child, but the urge to run my fingertips over its ornate surface is too compelling to ignore.
“I want you to,” says Ryan. “But here’s the thing. If you touch it, you’ll want me just as badly as I want you.”
I laugh again. I think the beer has definitely gone to my head. “Well how badly do you want me?”
He arches his eyebrows. “I don’t think you can handle that much honesty.”
This is a very strange, very obscene game we’re playing. “I really want to touch it,” I say. “What, is it, like, magic or something? Like voodoo?”
“Not voodoo,” he says. “But yes. It will make you want me.”
“You ply me with a few more beers and massages and you have no idea what I’ll do,” I say. I snatch it out of his fingers.
It’s hot! It’s so fucking hot! But before I can even register the pain, the flash is gone—no, not gone, but shooting up my arm. It slams into my heart and—and, I don’t know what I feel… It’s like liquid gold is melting down my ribcage and pooling in my panties. I give an involuntary gasp, and for a moment I think I’m going to faint.
And then it’s like ten-thousand tongues are licking my pussy and my anus all at once.
“Whoa,” I say. My thumb skates over the warm metal. “This is…intense.” The ruby is so bright, so succulent. It’s like a neon strawberry. I have a bizarre urge to suck on it, to kiss it, fondle it. But, no, that would be weird. Very weird.
I hand the amulet back to Ryan. He tucks it back into his jacket. I swallow hard and try to bring the world back into focus, but all its edges have gone soft. And I’m vibrating.
I don’t understand it. All I understand is that my heart is beating like a drum and my breasts are thudding in time. I reach out and brace myself against Ryan’s shoulder, desperate to catch my breath. He catches me in his strong, sailor’s hands, and a rush of warmth passes through his fingers and down my shoulders.
“I feel dizzy,” I say. “Take me outside.”
“We are outside.”
The first fireflies of the evening are winking at us from between the trees. “Take me more outside,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say a word, he just nods and escorts me behind the shed. “No,” I say (I’m almost panting now), “I need to be away from the house. Do you remember that clearing, just beyond the old treehouse?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Take me there.”
The sounds of the party die behind us as a new flurry of sounds take over. The squawking of birds and the rustle of trees, the wind, the creak of branches. The dizziness leaves me but my heart is still thudding, and I cannot help but close my fingers over Ryan’s strong hands still holding tight to my shoulders.
He has grown so much in the intervening years. I hardly recognize him. He is tall, taller than Joe, and his face is sharper and more handsome. His hair is darker than John’s, and so are his eyes. I press my fingers to his chest as we stride through the woods.
“Is this…how much you want me, Ryan?” The warmth of his body sets off a diabolical warmth between my legs. I can’t deny this feeling, no matter how wrong it is. There have been so many voices today, so many things to do, too many responsibilities. Now, here, in the woods, I want—no—I need, release. Ryan is so different he may as well be a stranger.
We stop in the clearing, and I press him against the tree.
“What are you doing, Sara?”
“You know exactly what I’m doing,” I say. Oh, I hate him and want him at the exact same time and it’s driving me crazy! “I’m so tired of being a good wife,” I tell him. It’s true, I realize. I’ve never spoken these words aloud before, never dared to. But I am bored with John, bored with my life as a homemaker. I thought I could be the traditional happy housewife. But I’m not. I want to do something terrible. Something wrong and sick and lewd.
I reach down and unzip Ryan’s pants. “I want you in my mouth,” I say, and then I’m forcing my brother to kiss me, forcing my tongue against his own. Below, my hand undoes his belt, and he helps me by popping his button.
“You want to suck my cock?” says Ryan. “But I’m your brother…”
"Mmm,” I agree. I’m going down, I’m getting to my knees, I’m gasping as his turgid manhood rises to meet my lips. And then he’s guiding it into my mouth. “Mmmmm,” I hum as he glides along my tongue. His fingers curl around the back of my head.
This is so wrong, so sinfully against everything a good housewife is supposed to do. Ryan’s cockhead brushes the back of my throat. I choke, but I let him keep going.
“Oh, fuck,” moans Ryan. My brother likes the way I suck his cock. He puts his palm on top of my head and holds me there as he finds a rhythm that he likes. I don’t mind. I just squeeze my lips around his shaft and let him use me.
I can’t believe this is what he wanted. I can’t believe this is how he feels. But the magic must be real, right? Otherwise, why am I letting him thrust into my mouth? Why does choking on him send gushes of juice into my panties?
I’m surprised at how clean he tastes. He’s showered recently, I realize. His pubic hair is fragrant with body wash, and very little sweat. The deep dirty part of me is almost disappointed. There is no manly funk for me to choke on, no musk to make me confront that this is not my husband’s penis on my tongue. As if I could forget…
I resist Ryan’s hand and pull my head to the side, my lips spitting him out so I can jerk his wet shaft and give his balls some attention. I glare up at him as I suck on his hairy testicles, my fingers working his bulging erection.
“That’s good, Sara,” he groans. “You’re doing so good, big sister.”
“Mmm,” I hum into his scrotum.
“Now take off your pants and let me fuck you.”
“Yes,” I answer him. It sounds like a command. It feels like a command. But I want this. I want him to fuck me here, in the woods, not far from our family. I want him in me, want him to ravish me, here where my husband and our parents might see.
And I see (as he helps me slide down my tight jeans) the desire in his eyes. Ryan wants this. He wants this so badly. “You sick bastard…” I say. If it’s possible, my words just make him harder. So I say it some more. “You sick, perverted bastard,” I moan.
I’m already soaked by the time he pulls my pants off my shoes. One of my shoes comes off in the process, the other clings to my foot. I go to remove it but Ryan says no. No, there’s no time. He wants me now…
Excerpt from My Mind-Controlled MILF (and Her Sexy Daughters, Too!) - now available at Smashwords for 25% off!