My Master Down the Hall Ch. 03

I took his cock in my mouth, not deep at first, since I wanted to run my tongue over its sticky coating. It was truly weird to taste myself for the first time. It helped to think about how much this was pleasing Gabe. His breathing was getting heavy much faster than normal, and I felt a surge of pride and something like even cockiness knowing that just rubbing his dick lightly across my pussy made him get this way. It was an unusual feeling for me, but I enjoyed it for the moment. Thankfully, Gabe put me back in my place, though.

"Cum for me, Tinkerbell," he said, he thrust hard into my mouth an emptied his balls into me.

The barest flick of a finger across my clit, combined with his command, were enough to send me over the edge once more, and I came for a third time, a smaller one, bucking my hips like I was fucking an invisible man. It had still been so intense that I instantly swallowed his cum without asking, and afterwards I was a little ashamed for disappointing him. He looked into my eyes.

"I noticed," he said, without having to be more specific than that. "Next time you do that, Tiny Tits, I'll have to do something."

"Tiny Tits" was the name he called me when I was bad. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment. I nodded, grateful that he was going to give me another chance. Gabe bent down and kissed me on the forehead.

"I've got band practice tonight," he said. "You should come to support your boyfriend."

I understood the double meaning. I was just glad I'd get to spend more time with him tonight.

"And your girlfriend?" I asked.

"If you're there, she's there."

***

Ten lunches and ten dinners. Three dates with Andrew. Four early presents from distant relatives. Eight blowjobs. Two orgasms of my own.

I don't want to say I was going crazy by Christmas but...I was completely losing my shit by Christmas. I hated that I had less time with Gabe now that we were trying to throw my mom off. Most of all, I thought about losing my virginity. How was it going to happen? I mean, I knew it would be great—that wasn't my worry. It was like waiting for a present, and knowing it was going to be the best present you've ever gotten, just not knowing what it could be.

To add to that, I was going to get a regular, normal brother-and-sister present from Gabe too. I had thought long and hard about what to get him and dipped deeper into my savings than I had expected. Gabe was a badass on the guitar, but I knew he played the keyboards for the band too. Despite that, he was stuck with an old, pretty lame keyboard. I couldn't afford some pro-quality, awesome keyboard, but Andrew told me all about various pieces of sound tech stuff that Gabe would love, as well as all the road gear they didn't have. I ended up getting him a really cool gig bag for his keyboard, one that matched his guitar case.

As for my present from Gabe, it looked kind of obvious wrapped up under the tree: it was some kind of large frame, like for a small painting or a big photo. It's funny: my mind immediately flashed to the possibility that it was a picture of me, covered in cum or with a cock in my mouth. I don't know why I always think of the most humiliating, dirty stuff, but that's where my head was at.

We all gathered around Christmas morning to exchange gifts, together with Gabe's cousins, aunts, and uncles. It was always really sweet that people on his side of the family got me stuff too; mostly small, but really thoughtful. When it came time for Gabe to open his gift from me, people were really floored with how nice it was. I shot a look over at my mom, and it looked like she'd swallowed a fly. I started to think it was a bad idea to give him my real present in front of other people. I mean, it wasn't like I gave him silk pajamas in front of our parents, but still, it was a pretty nice gift to get from your step-sister.

Then it was my turn to open Gabe's gift, and when I saw it, I couldn't help but to start crying. The frame was beautiful, and obviously expensive. Inside it was a charcoal drawing, a good one, replicating the first photo Gabe and I ever took together, that day he helped us move our stuff into the house. Mom had taken a candid picture, and you can see me smiling in the foreground and looking up at Gabe as he carries my childhood dollhouse above his head.

"Did you have that made at the mall, son?" Mom asked, her voice sounding unsteady.

"No, Mom, I did it myself. I used to draw a lot more, but I haven't done it in a while. I guess it's a cheaper gift than Rose's—"

Gabe was interrupted by a sudden lack of oxygen, caused by a diminutive but not entirely weak redhead girl trying to squeeze the life out of him.

"I love it so much," I told him, aware of the look of disapproval from Mom. "It's perfect."

Honestly, the rest of the day was a blur. When we got home, Emmett had Gabe get his keyboard out to see how it fit in the case. Of course, it fit like a glove, and my step-dad complimented my taste. It was clear that he remained oblivious to anything going on between me and Gabe. Mom pointedly asked about what Andrew was doing for Christmas, but I told her that when you first start dating it's weird to spend Christmas together.

Late that night, Gabe woke me up.

"C'mon," he said. "We've got to be quiet or they'll wake up."

We both snuck out of the house as quietly as possible. Gabe even put his truck in neutral to glide out of the driveway before starting it up in the street. We both locked eyes when the engine roared—even he probably wished he was driving a Prius or something at that moment and not a big, loud pick-up.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice doing nothing to hide my excitement and anticipation.

"Wyatt's family is out of town and I know where the spare key is. I can't give you your real present here," he said.

Holy crap—this was happening. I wanted to have on sexy lingerie, a face full of makeup, to psyche myself up for it all day. Who was I kidding, though? None of that stuff was really me, anyway.

With all the smothering family time, I had given up on tonight being the night. Now here we were, sneaking into a friend's empty house to fuck. Only, as it turned out, that wasn't really it either at least not only.

I was scared when we entered the house. The key was there, just like Gabe said, but still I imagined alarms, dogs, police officers. This is what I meant when I said that danger was fun in a story but terrifying in real life. Gabe didn't flip on the lights, but instead closed the curtains and produced a lighter from his pocket. Following Gabe, illuminated by the orange flame, I went downstairs to Wyatt's family's finished basement. There, safe from the prying eyes of neighbors, we finally turned on the lights.

I'd been here before, following along behind Gabe as always, when the band had rehearsed. There was an old piano in the corner, and Gabe walked over to it.

"I loved my gift," he said. "Are you ready for yours?"

"What about the picture?" I asked. "I mean, I loved it, too. It was perfect."

He looked genuinely humbled.

"I'm a better musician than I am an artist," he said. "I just couldn't sing my sister a love song in front of the whole family."

He started to play something, a tune recognizable though clearly different when arranged for the piano.

"Whenever I'm alone with you," he sang. "You make me feel like I am home again."

God, it was perfect. I knew this song.

"Whenever I'm alone with you,

you make me feel like I am whole again..."

I was transfixed. Even Gabe seemed like he was somewhere else; maybe he just needed to concentrate really hard to play the song and sing at the same time. To me, it looked like there was a lot going on in his head.

"However far away,

I will always love you..."

When he finished, I came over to him, wrapped my arms around him, and kissed him on the back of his neck.

"Gabe," I said. "It's perfect."

What I wanted, more than anything in the whole world, was to make love to the man I loved, to give him my virginity tonight. In that moment, I wasn't in control, but he wasn't in control either. The concept of control, of power, of submission, or dominance lost all meaning.

Let me back up here, because it's getting a little heavy. Let's be honest, you can probably tell from the way I write when I'm horny, when I'm feeling playful, and when I just want to get something off my chest. If you've ever been in love and lust at the same time, like I was, you'll know how weird it can be to balance those things in your mind. For me, I loved be serenaded, but I also loved having Gabe shove his cock down my throat. I loved cuddling against him, sharing secrets and little moments of intimacy, but I also loved feeling a little scared, a little helpless, and totally at the mercy of Gabe the sexual beast.

This is the mystery of being a girl, though the combination and the pieces are different in everyone. I don't really understand guys. Do they want things all one way? A total slut, or a total good girl? Or do they like balance too? What's that saying? "A lady in the street and a hooker in bed." I guess most guys want big tits, but don't some guys think that small tits are cute? I just know that finding the balance with every girl, the balance between light and dark, is tricky, but worth the risk.

In hindsight, I won't even say that Gabe ever truly found that perfect sweet spot. The thing that made him so perfect to me, that loving bond that only exists between family, would always hold him back from ever being truly dangerous, and that was a good thing. I mean, I'm still young now, and I was even younger then. But now that—spoiler alert—we're apart, I can look back us together and wonder what would have happened had Gabe never played that song, if he would have told me to bend over that piano and fucked me in the ass while I played "Chopsticks."

If things were a little different, that could have happened. Instead, I spent that night with my brother, and it was a different, but equally thrilling kind of high. My first time was with the guy I loved, who loved me so much that he had broken society's number one, oldest rule just to be with me.

I know you guys are used to me giving you all the sexy details of our little adventures, but for some reason I feel like saving just a bit for myself. Don't hate me! It's just that some things can't be described, and the first time you feel yourself cum, your pussy filled with the cock of your true love, the first time he makes you scream out loud, uncontrollably, the first time you lose sight of time and space and feel like your whole body is just one big orgasm? There aren't words, at least not words that I know, for those experiences.

I will say that my first time wasn't like some Hollywood movie or ridiculous porno. We were on the sofa, and at first I was having all kinds of insane, silly thoughts: someone would catch us, Wyatt's family would smell my pussy juice when they got home, they might have, like, a nanny cam. I was nervous too about Gabe's cock; as much as I wanted it inside me, I still couldn't imagine how something so big could fit. Of course, he took it slow, and I knew just the right way to make sure it was nice and wet, just like my pussy, before Gabe put it in.

Once it was in, I just remember feeling like every part of my body was more alive than it had ever been. No matter how lubed and ready I was, it still hurt at first. Once Gabe started to move, pulling it almost completely out only to slide it slowly back in, I think all those crazy thoughts started to go away—really, all my thoughts went away. Here's the crazy thing: it wasn't even about orgasms. I know I had them, maybe three. That wasn't hard for me, of course, since you all know I suffer from POPS (Premature Orgasmic Physical Syndrome, a disease I just made up for girls like me a little quick on the trigger).

To get serious for a sec, though, it was just this incredible feeling of being simultaneously intensely vulnerable and intensely protected. I loved feeling Gabe's body on top of my mine; it was so different from the normal way I sucked his cock, where that was our only connection. Being underneath him was different than being on my knees for him, better I think. That first time, there wasn't anything probably different from any of your first times, if you don't count the whole brother thing. It was special and perfect, and I wouldn't change anything.

Despite what I thought would happen, Gabe came inside me, and I was glad for it. Even if normally I would prefer that he cum in my mouth, that first time it felt right to get that thrill of feeling the warmth of his cum fill me up. We had never even changed positions; honestly, it was going to take a lot more experience for me before I ever thought of myself as "good" at sex. I was just happy that he'd cum, and the look of total devotion and love for me he had on his face in the afterglow was priceless.

It took a moment before I felt him rise, his cock slipping out of me, leaving me empty though totally fulfilled.

"Clean it," he said hazily.

The master was back. For my first time, he was just Gabe, and I was grateful for it. Now, though, the little sub in me was happy to be back where she belonged. I greedily sucked his cock, tasting a mélange of flavors. It took little effort to get him hard again.

"What do you say?" he asked, taking on that even-keel, confident tone that made me melt.

"Thank you," I mouthed breathlessly, before pressing my face against his warm, wet cock.

He was hard enough to fuck me again, if he wanted. I was also prepared, of course, to suck him off again, if he wanted that too. My face was still pressed into his crotch, just silently worshiping him when I heard his voice.

"Rosie, tell me the truth about something," he said, pulling his cock away from my mouth.

For some reason, I felt a shudder of fear. What would he ask that required him commanding my honesty? Why would he ever think I would lie to him?

"Do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"Are you in love with me?" he asked.

I was afraid he might be freaked, but I knew I couldn't lie.

"Yes," I told him. "So much that it scares me."

"But you also want me to make you beg, order you around, make you cry? I mean, you always cum hardest when I do that kind of stuff to you, right?"

"Yeah," I said, suddenly feeling genuinely ashamed. "I'm...some kind of pervert or something."

Gabe ran his fingers through my hair, pulling my face upwards towards his.

"Rosie, we're in this together. We're both...people would hate us," he said, his strength tempered with the recognition of the very real danger we faced.

"I don't want to hurt you," he continued. "Do I have to hurt you for this? I mean, to make you happy?"

"No. Not hurt," I said, struggling to define my own desires for Gabe. "Just...make me feel small. Tell me what to do. You figured it out on your own just fine."

Gabe looked uncommonly serious. I knew this was what he was building to.

"Do I have to be that way all the time? It's hard when you love somebody..."

His voice trailed off. I had been so selfish. It was also about making him be what I needed, the perfect Dom who loved me, respected my limits, but turned me on the way I wanted. I guess I had always assumed that Gabe took to it because he was doing what he wanted. But now, the picture, the song. Gabe loved me, not just because I was a reasonably cute, exceptionally convenient cum dumpster.

Shit, the picture! When we first met: did he like me even back then? I had always assumed that he kind of accepted me once he got used to regularly having his balls drained. Now, it made me question all that. Things that I thought I knew were becoming ambiguous, mysterious. Change isn't always bad, but for me at least, it could be upsetting.

What did I want? I knew I didn't want Gabe going through the motions, disinterestedly ordering me around while regretting that we didn't have a more normal, albeit-still-totally-fucked-up-because-hello-incest-here relationship. Now I was the one, just like him, totally in love but also terrified of hurting the person I loved. Even thinking of Gabe like that, as a human, real person, capable of being hurt, and not some perfect, unreal master, was new and strange.

"Gabe," I said, my voice almost completely inaudible. "I've loved you since the day I met you. You're my only brother, you're my first kiss, you're my first time, you're my first love. I know that things are going to change now, but I...want you to know that I don't, like, worship you because it helps me get off or something. I just...you're on top because it's where you belong."

I was getting louder. It felt like someone else was talking for me.

"I only want you to do things that make you feel good. Just know that making you happy is what makes me happy. You don't have to do anything that feels wrong, ever, but I hope that..."

I trailed off, having run out of the right words. I searched my mind for a moment.

"I hope you like new things. Like this. Anything you can dream of, I want us to do it together," I said.

I looked into the beautiful, impossibly deep pools of his eyes, hoping to see a response.

"I love you, Rosie..." he said, with a quiet intensity.

"...and I can't wait to make you beg for it like a bitch in heat."

God, I have the best taste in guys.

***

The next morning, I woke up, in bed at home, of course, to the sound of knocking on my door. When I opened it, my mom came in, having clearly already gotten her morning caffeine.

"Rose, sit down," she said.

I knew immediately what this was about. I prepared myself for the worst.

"This isn't a discussion. This isn't a debate. You will do what I say, or else very, very bad things are going to happen."

I promised myself then and there that, no matter what, I would not cry. My mom was fidgety, and it was obvious she was intensely uncomfortable having this conversation.

"Emmett can never know. If you get careless, like last night sneaking out together...I will end this. You know I can. It will be like detonating a bomb in the middle of this family, but, I swear to God, if you make me—"

"Mom," I interrupted, confused. "Why aren't you telling me to stop?"

Her face relaxed, just a little.

"You love him, honey. And he loves you. Do you think I can't see that?" she said, with an air of maternal omniscience.

I suppose I'll never understand what that's like until it's my time to have a kid. Great, now I'm thinking about that.

"And Emmett doesn't know?"

"Honey, he would have Gabe's ass if he knew," she replied.

"Why Gabe? What about me?" I asked.

"Emmett...he'd think Gabe took advantage of you, and there'd be no way to convince him otherwise. He looks at you like his own daughter. For Gabe's sake, sweetie, you have to be much more careful."

Once again, selfish me had forgotten to think about Gabe's risks in this whole relationship-thing.

"Mom," I said, holding her delicate arm, so much like my own, in my hand. "Thank you. You don't know what this means to me."

She looked at me, at once maternal and almost sisterly.

"Honey, I know you're like me. I see so much of myself in you."

She laughed.

"I even remember my mother having the talk with me when I met your father. Gabe is a good boy—a good man—but the secrecy...just promise me that you won't let things go too far. You're more in control with him than you know."

I remember thinking, holy crap, did my mom just imply that we were, like, part of a long family line of submissive sluts or something? It was a little surreal: reassuring and totally in line with everything I knew about her relationship with Emmett, but still really fucking weird to think about.

We hugged it out, and I was left alone in my room, more confused than ever. They say you can't control who you love, but maybe you also can't control how you love either. Nature, nurture, fate, none of it made sense. I'll have to tell you how it all turned out really soon.