I Felt Inspired By This And Immediately Started Writing. Thank You Angel Xxx

I felt inspired by this and immediately started writing. Thank you angel xxx

The rhythmic click-clack of controller buttons being pressed with precision echoed through the room. The older brother sat cross-legged on the floor, his thin glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he focused intently on the screen. A faint sheen of sweat dotted his brow, a testament to the intensity of the game. His younger sister lingered nearby, perched on the edge of the couch, her knees tucked to her chest as she watched him. She was shy, always had been, her eyes darting away whenever he glanced in her direction. But tonight, something felt different. The air between them was charged, heavy with unspoken words and stifled emotions.

“You’re really good at this,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The compliment came out awkwardly, as if she’d been rehearsing it in her head for hours.

He paused the game, the screen freezing mid-action, and looked up at her. His glasses caught the soft glow of the monitor, obscuring his eyes momentarily.

“Thanks,” he said, his tone equally awkward. “It’s just practice, I guess.”

She nodded, her fingers toying with the hem of her oversized hoodie. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his glasses. “You, uh… you wanna try?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m not very good. I’ll just mess it up.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, patting the spot on the floor next to him. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, she slid off the couch and sat beside him, her legs brushing against his. He handed her the controller, their fingers grazing briefly, and she flinched at the contact. Why did that feel so... electric? She thought, her cheeks flushing. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

The game resumed, and she fumbled with the controls, her character stumbling around the screen. He chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Here, let me help,” he said, reaching over to guide her hands. His breath was warm against her ear, and she shivered involuntarily.

They played like that for a while, his hands occasionally correcting hers, their bodies pressed closer together than necessary. The tension between them grew with every passing second, their movements becoming more deliberate, more charged. Finally, she set the controller down and turned to face him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breaths shallow and uneven.

“Why does this feel so… weird?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He froze, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “I… I don’t know,” he stammered, his cheeks turning bright red. “Maybe we should stop.”

She shook her head, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. “No. I don’t want to stop.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and loaded. He stared at her, his mind racing. This is wrong. This is so wrong. But when she leaned in, her lips brushing against his, all rational thought evaporated. He kissed her back, his hands trembling as they cupped her face. Their glasses clinked together awkwardly, and he pulled away, laughing nervously.

“Guess that’s not very practical,” he said, his voice shaky.

She giggled, a sound so light and carefree it made his chest ache. “Take them off,” she whispered.

He hesitated, then removed his glasses, setting them carefully on the floor. His vision was slightly blurred without them, but he didn’t care. Not when she was looking at him like that—like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Their kisses grew more fervent, more desperate. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve as if he were committing her to memory. She moaned softly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. And then, before he could stop himself, he was on top of her, their bodies pressed together in a way that made his stomach churn with guilt.

“Wait,” he whispered, pulling back slightly. “We shouldn’t… this is wrong.”

“It’s not wrong,” she said, her voice firm despite the blush creeping up her neck. “I want this. I want you.”

He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. She’s my sister. This is so messed up. But the way she looked at him, the way her hands gripped his shoulders, begging him not to pull away—it was intoxicating. He couldn’t resist.

When he finally entered her, it was slow, tentative, as if he was giving her every opportunity to change her mind. But she didn’t. Instead, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her breath hitching in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear, his voice trembling with guilt and desire. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she murmured, her nails digging into his back. “It’s okay. It’s perfect.”

He moved inside her, his thrusts rhythmic but cautious, as if he was afraid of hurting her. But with every moan that escaped her lips, every shudder that wracked her body, his guilt began to ebb away, replaced by an overwhelming need to make her feel good. His glasses, resting on the bridge of his nose, fogged up slightly from the heat of their bodies, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“Your glasses,” she said, her voice breathless. “They’re all foggy.”

He laughed, the sound strained but genuine. “Guess I’ll have to clean them later,” he joked, his voice filled with a lightness he hadn’t felt in a while.

As they moved together, their bodies becoming more and more in sync, he couldn’t help but whisper apologies into her ear. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But each time, she silenced him with a kiss, her hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of him.

“You’re not hurting me,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. But for now, in this moment, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the way her body felt against his, the way her breath hitched with every movement, the way she whispered his name like a prayer.

And as they reached their peak together, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their release, he pulled her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her. This is wrong, he thought, his heart aching with guilt. But it feels so right.