Secret Desire: Leihla & Ben (Taboo Forbidden Erotica)

When Leihla’s computer breaks down and she sneaks into Ben’s room to check her favorite recipe site on his computer instead, what she finds is not exactly what she expected. Turns out Ben has a crush on her, and has been using Photoshop to bring his wildest fantasies about his stepsister to life. And what startles her even more: his forbidden desire is one she shares. Now, with their parents away for the week on their second honeymoon, crossing over into the land of taboo is a challenge Leihla and Ben will find very hard to resist.

ADULTS ONLY. This book is intended for sale to Adult Audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language. All sexually active characters in this work are of legal age.

WARNING: this story contains a long, extensive and extremely hot scene of taboo sex between adoptive siblings.

Approximately 8700 words.

And it was as I sat there, making a tinkle, that the image of Ben’s enormous cock came back to me. For the first time I’d seen what my brother looked like naked, and the thought sent flutters down my belly, spreading all the way to my pussy.

I opened my legs a little wider, and as the last droplets of pee fell into the toilet bowl, I reached a tentative hand toward my lips. They were wet, and not just with pee.

I slipped a finger in, and began to massage the heat that was vibrating between my legs. While I rubbed my clit in slow, circular movements, I imagined it was Ben’s hand, touching me there. I now quickly closed the toilet seat and sat down on top of it, my feet up and legs wide. I’d seen one of my mom’s hair brushes lying near the sink, and grabbed it. The handle was nowhere near the size of my brother’s cock, but it would have to do for now. At least the handle was thick, almost an inch, and inserting it into my wet pussy, I moaned with pleasure.

Was this how Ben’s cock would feel? Sliding the brush a little deeper, I moved my thumb over my clit, rubbing it faster and faster, while the brush slid in and out with ease. The handle was now glistening with my juices. I shoved it deeper still, right up to the hilt, as the pressure and the tension built inside me.

I pulled up my nightie, and fondled my small breasts, plunging the brush deeper into my pussy. My nipples, normally puffy and wide, were puckering up, and I squeezed my tit hard, tugging at the nipple. How would Ben’s hot hands feel on my tits? How would it feel if he put his mouth there, suckling at my nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue?
Oh, God.
The thought sent ripples of excitement through my lower belly and all the way up my spine.

I was fucking myself with my mom’s brush now, pulling it out and plunging it in, wet sounds echoing through the bathroom, and imagining it was Ben’s huge cock, taking possession of his sister’s pussy. The toilet seat was slick with my juices, dripping from my cunt. I touched a finger to my ass: it was wet, too. Then an idea occurred to me: now that I was so wet, the brush barely put pressure against the walls of my pussy, so I carefully inserted it into my ass. It went in smoothly, lubricated by my cunt juices. I shoved it in, then pushed three fingers inside my pussy, my thumb never leaving my clit.

Waves of pleasure now rushed through me, while I assfucked and fingerfucked myself. I could feel the tension building up and up, my lips contracting around my fingers, my asshole squeezing around my mom’s brush, my clit on fire. Then suddenly, something uncoiled deep inside me, and I came, bucking and writhing against my hand, almost slipping off the toilet.

A sound had me open my eyes, and when I looked up, there stood Ben, watching me with rapt attention, his mouth slightly open, and an enormous erection straining at the crotch of his boxers.

“Ben!” I cried. Now it was my turn to quickly grab for a towel and cover myself.

He didn’t say a word, merely gave me a long, dark, lingering look, then quickly withdrew and left me there, panting and blushing with shame and embarrassment.

SECRET DESIRE

Leihla & Ben

Nic Saint

My little brother Ben and I have always been very close, almost like twins. Perhaps it’s because we look so very much alike, both fair-haired, fair-skinned with blue eyes and slender bodies, that people think we really are related. The truth is that Ben is not my real brother. My parents adopted him when his parents died in a car crash, when he was only a baby boy.

His father was my dad’s best friend, and adopting little Ben seemed like the natural thing to do for mom and dad. Of course, he doesn’t remember any of this, and it was only a couple of months ago that my parents finally revealed the truth. Before that, we’d always thought that we actually were twins, since we were both born only minutes apart. I’m five minutes older than him, that’s why I like to call him my little brother, though I’m on the petite side myself.

Adopted or not, it doesn’t matter. We’ve been brother and sister practically since birth, so we made a pact that we’ll always be siblings, whatever my parents may say.

Lately, I’ve been worried about Ben. Most boys his age—we both just turned 18—have girlfriends, but not Ben. I know, since we go to the same school, and the moment he’d be like that about a girl, I’d know.

I’ve tried to talk to him about it, even, but he kinda ignored me, mumbling something about it not being my business. And I guess it isn’t, but still. I care about him. Secretly, I’ve been wondering if perhaps he’s into boys, not girls. He’s such a sweet kid, not at all like most boys. And he even looks a bit like a girl. Well, he looks like me, with his delicate features and long hair. Not as long as mine of course—he’s not a rock star!

I know kids at school sometimes tease him about his looks, and my heart breaks when I hear those stories. Ben’s my brother, and if anyone did anything to hurt him, I’d be pretty devastated. And pissed.

***

All this changed, though, the week our parents went on their second honeymoon. They’d been married twenty years, and wanted to celebrate by going back to the quaint little hotel in Iowa they’d spent their first honeymoon. So for seven whole days, Ben and I were on our own. Not that it was the first time that happened. We were old enough to take care of ourselves, and had proven how responsible we were. We even made our own little schedule of chores and stuck it on the fridge to show to mom and dad that they had nothing to worry about and should enjoy their trip without a thought of home or the kids.

The first Saturday we were home alone, I was scheduled to cook spaghetti, which is pretty much the only thing I can cook, but I wanted to make something special instead. I’d scribbled down the address of a really great cooking site full of recipes that my friend Marcie had found, and was going to cook ourselves a real feast, just to prove to myself that I could. I also wanted to cheer up Ben. For the last month or so, he’d been looking really down, and had been pretty much ignoring me, refusing to talk to me, even. Since we’d always been so close, that disturbed me more than I would have admitted.

Then, just when I was ready to turn into the teen version of Martha Stewart, my computer decided to go on strike. Try as I might, I couldn’t go online on the damn thing. Something about a server error. I’m no computer geek so I did the only sensible thing: I snuck into Ben’s room to use his computer.

As he’d gone to the store to check out some new sneakers, I had his room all to myself.

It was a typical boy’s room: clothes strewn about everywhere, candy wrappers on his bed, and some dirty magazine tucked away under his mattress—yes, I checked. I hadn’t been in his room for ages, and while I was there I could just as well search for clues about what had caused this foul mood of his.

Finding nothing of importance, I booted up his computer, and was just about to click the browser link, when a file folder on his desktop caught my eye. The file was called Leihla. I frowned. What was a folder with my name on it doing on Ben’s computer?

Intrigued, I opened it. It was filled with pictures. Indiscriminately, I clicked on one. Fully expecting to see a picture of me grinning at the camera, I was surprised to find that it indeed was me, but naked. I gulped in shock as my eyes widened. First of all, I was pretty sure I’d never posed naked to anyone at any time. Second, that was not my body. The girl in the picture, though she had my face, had different breasts. Mine are small with large, puffy nipples. The girl in the picture had pear-shaped boobs with tiny nipples. Someone had pasted my head on the naked body of some other girl.

Clicking back to the folder, I saw that there were literally dozens of pictures. I opened them one by one, and all were pictures of naked girls, with my face edited in. Some were merely posing naked; others were lying on bed, their legs open, spreading their pussy wide for the camera... with my grinning face superimposed! A final batch was of men and women fucking, the women once again looking me and the men...

I gasped in shock: all of the men’s faces had been replaced by... my little brother Ben.

In the pictures, Ben was fucking me!

I clicked on the next picture, and a program opened: Photoshop. An original file opened of a work in progress: the picture had several layers, and as I scrolled through them, there was the original picture of a woman sucking a man’s cock, her lips closed around the shaft, looking up at the man. A second layer featured both my head and Ben’s—I recognized the picture from a trip we took last year. Ben had snapped a shot of me sucking a popsicle. Only now I wasn’t sucking a popsicle, but some guy’s dick. I clicked on the third layer and the composite came together: there was little old me, sucking my brother’s cock!

I leaned back as I stared at the screen. I was shocked, yes, but also aware of a strange sensation between my legs: the image of me and Ben doing... that... sent ripples of excitement through my pussy. Licking my lips, I returned to the other pictures, scrolling through them until I found one that affected me more than the others: ‘Ben’ was fucking ‘me’ from behind in this one, his cock all the way inside my cunt, while I looked at him with a wide smile on my face, spreading my pussy wide with my fingers.

I remembered when Ben had taken that picture. It was during the same holiday. We’d just gone to the beach, and we’d been playing in the ocean. Ben had taken a lot of pictures of me, most of them, I now recalled, of me in the retro polka dot bikini I’d bought especially for the occasion. The first time I’d worn that bikini, I’d noticed a strange look in his eyes when I came out of the water, my nipples hard from the cold, poking through the soft material.

He’d been lying on the beach when I came back from my swim, and standing over him, all wet and shivering, I’d asked him to throw me a towel. But instead, he’d quickly flipped over onto his belly, his eyes never leaving my body.

I’d found it strange, and rude, though I had to admit that it had felt kinda nice to feel his eyes on me. He’d never looked at me like that before. Like a man looking at a woman, I mean. Now I wondered if the reason he’d turned over on his belly, was perhaps to hide his boner?

Thinking about that time on the beach now, the heat between my legs started to build. I’d plunked down next to him, and the movement had shifted my bikini top so that my breast almost popped out. I hadn’t noticed the wardrobe malfunction, until I saw the glazed look in Ben’s eyes as he stared at me, his mouth slightly open. Following his gaze, I looked down, and saw the swell of my breast and a bit of the soft brown of my areola peeking out from my top.

Blushing, I’d quickly tucked away my boob. We’d locked eyes, then, and I could see the heat in his eyes, the lust, the longing, and for a brief moment, I wanted for him to put his hand on my breast and kiss me, right then and there, in front of our whole family.

The moment passed, and I’d forgotten all about until now. Flicking through the pictures he’d created with so much care and attention to detail, I could feel Ben’s lust for me exploding from the computer screen. Every sexual pose imaginable, he had carefully constructed in imagery that sent ripples of excitement through my lower belly.

I checked which picture he’d watched most recently, and opened it. It was an image of ‘me’, my pussy being licked by ‘Ben’, and it was so nicely rendered, it was almost real. Through half-closed eyes I watched the scene come to life, tentatively spreading my legs a little, and rubbing my pussy through the leggings and panties I was wearing.

The sensation released a jolt of pleasure. I slipped a hand inside my panties, and slowly started to rub my clit, as I imagined Ben’s hand there, then his tongue, like in the picture, licking me, sucking my tiny pink nub.

No boy had ever touched me there. For some reason, I’d never allowed any boyfriend to touch me below the waist. Now I knew why. I’d been saving myself for my little brother. Had he been doing the same for me? Was that the reason he didn’t have a girlfriend?

Was my brother Ben… in love with me?

The notion that he might feel that way about me, had me rub myself even harder. And I was just about to slip a finger under the elastic band of my panties, when a sudden gasp from the door practically made me jump from the chair.