Seduction of Amanda
Just the way he stared at me was enough to make me nervous,
like he could see through my blouse or something. I caught
myself more than once checking to make sure my skirt was
pulled all the way down. Whenever I did that, he'd smile
slightly, looking down at where I tugged at the hem, and
I'd shudder.
If my older sister noticed, she didn't say anything. They'd
been married for 6 years now, and I wondered why. My sister
was fat and he, although not fat, was too short at only 5'9".
His gut protruded out and I wondered what he was like in bed.
A disgusted shiver swept through me as I imagined him, not
with my sister, but with me - his sweaty body on top of me,
grunting, straining. He licked his lips suggestively,
a disgusting gesture. I turned crimson and fled the room.
For the first couple of days, I simply tried to ignore him.
He didn't let me, hanging around me constantly, and even
worse, complimenting me on what I wore. Once he asked me
if I went around without a bra often, and I wanted to slap
him. Instead, I just blushed again, and my nipples tightened
with my embarrassment.
The reaction bothered me severely, both because he was
my brother-in-law, and the fact that his presence disgusted
me. But as I thought about it, I realized I did usually wear
a bra. My nipples were too prominent for me not to. And while
I had plenty of jeans in my suitcase, I'd yet to wear them.
Instead I'd been sticking to the skirts, or my short shorts.
Then I got pissed, telling myself I had the right to wear
whatever I wanted at my family's house and I shouldn't have
to change just because of his perverted reaction to it.
The next morning, I came out of my room in my half-shirt and
the shortest skirt I had. Fuck him if he couldn't handle
it. I started helping with the housework, vacuuming the
floors, dusting the shelves. Everywhere I went, I felt
his eyes following me. Anything that made my breast sway
or caused my skirt to rise a little higher I was intensely
aware of, and felt the heat on the back of my neck when I thought
of his response. The few times I dared to glance at him, he
caught me at it, and I quickly looked away with even more
embarrassment. And the more embarrassed I got, the more
he looked.
When I started the dishes, I felt him come up behind me. I
froze. "What are you doing?"
"That's a nice outfit," he whispered, so close I felt his
breath on the back of my neck.
I shivered, suddenly cold. My knees were shaking, although
why I was so scared I didn't know. My sister was just in the
living room. "Yeah?" I said, wincing at the quiver in my
voice. "So?"
He didn't answer, and I started to turn around. Then I felt
his hand on my waist and I jolted, my body reacting violently
to the heat of his touch. "What are you doing?" I hissed.
His hand rose higher, sliding around my belly, then creeping
upward. My fingers whitened as I gripped the edge of the
sink. "Kyle?" Goosebumps pricked up across my skin. His
hand went higher, to the bottom of my shirt. "Kyle?" I whimpered.
And as before, he ignored me, and I shuddered as his hand
slid up under my shirt.
I stood there, let him touch me, fondle my breasts. He even
slid his other hand under my skirt, letting his fingers
roam over my pubic mound, teasing at the edges of my panties.
And I stood there, letting him do it! When he jerked away,
I gasped. My hips still undulating, my nipples still tightening.
I looked over to see my sister walk into the room, and I blanched.
When she smiled pleasantly over the fact I was doing the
dishes, I almost groaned.
Kyle sat at the table, silently watching me again. I could
still feel his hands, rough against my sensitive flesh,
the heat of them burning into me as he groped and teased my
nipples. What would have happened if she hadn't come in?
Would he really have pushed under my panties? Would I have
let him?
A sudden rush of wetness soaked through my panties at the
thought, and I clamped my legs together to keep it from trickling
down my legs. "Oh God," I groaned inwardly, realizing
I would have. I'd have let him frig me, right there in the
kitchen, sliding those coarse fingers of his up into my
soaking wet slit. And even worse, it probably would have
made me cum.
I did the only thing I could think of. I told my sister that
I needed to cut my break short so I could get a jump start on
some of my classes. She chided me, telling me I worked too
hard, but also said she understood. When I glanced back
at Kyle, I saw him staring down at my skirt, a slight smile
on his lips. Tomorrow morning, I told myself. I'd be out
of here, and out of his reach. I blushed again over how easily
I had given in to him.
He didn't wait until morning. That night, in my bathroom,
I chewed at my lip nervously as I busily packed away everything
that I had left in there. I was so preoccupied with my disturbed
thoughts I didn't even realize he was there until he touched
me and I nearly shrieked. His hands slid over my body freely,
groping, moving. Everywhere he touched me, shivers of
revulsion and excitement shot through my skin. He got my
blouse open, managed to pull my skirt up around my waist.
"Stop him!" my mind yelled at me. My face twisted in anguish
as he found my breast and squeezed my nipple. Pulling me
against him, I could feel his erection shoved up against
my ass, knew what he wanted to do, and knew I couldn't let him.
"Kyle," I groaned, then felt my breath catch in my chest
as he started to pull down my panties. They were already
soaked, and he let his fingers run across them, repulsing
me even more. "Kyle," I said again, harsher this time.
But I couldn't get myself to say the rest of it, even when
I heard him unzipping his jeans, and he gently started bending
me over the bathroom counter. He chuckled appreciatively,
seeing the way my pussy had spread open for him, inviting
him in. "Oh fuck," I groaned as he penetrated me. I lunged
forward foolishly thinking that would prevent him from
entering me. However, as his big prick stretched my pussy,
I found myself pushing back against him, meeting the thrust.
He fucked me deliberately, swiftly. He contrasted 4 or
5 deep, slow thrusts with several quick, deliberate ones.
Each stroke took my breath away. This didn't stop until
he groaned, jerking with short, violent strokes. I squealed
as he came deep inside me, sperming my pussy, and I came all
over his hard cock.
I left the next morning. I had to. If I didn't, he'd do it again,
and I'd let him. I had even masturbated afterwards, the sperm that
leaked from my pussy making my fingers all slick, reminding me of his
grunting thrusts, and the way he stiffened when he came.
I wondered what else he would do if given the chance. The
possibilities I came up with were so sordid, so disgustingly vivid. My
gut clenched as I found myself coming up with excuses to stay.
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