My Sister is in China

It's day three into my trip in Suzhou with my mind-blowing sister, and I can already feel the weight of what I'm doing pressing against me. My wife is far away, back at her parents' house, and part of me clings to that distance like a shield. I know this can't last. I know the moment I go home; I'll have to look her in the eyes and either lie and pretend this never happened or disgust her and share this secret I've been carrying and living these past few weeks.

But not yet. That can wait, just a little longer.

Not while the city glows at night, not while my little sisters hand still lingers in mine, not while her laughter makes me forget the guilt for just a little while. I keep telling myself this is the last time, the last taste, the last chance to give in before I send her back home. And maybe that's why everything feels sharper now, her smile, her skin brushing mine, the tension that hums between us, constantly all throughout the day.

I'm walking a thin edge, and I know I'm going to fall. The only question is how far I'll let myself go before I finally stop.

I was standing at the window of our Suzhou hotel suite, watching raindrops slide down the glass like liquid secrets. Four days. Four days since my beautiful wife had left for her parents' place, claiming she needed space from the suffocating tension she'd sensed but couldn't name. Three days since my sister, my sweet tempting, sexxxxxxxxy little sister had agreed to this impromptu trip. Adding, mind you, three more days of crossing lines that people more specifically, siblings, should never cross.

But enough about that, I know what you're really here for, possibly the only reason, the part where the room gets hot, where bodies press close and my cock enters my sisters velvet purse. So, let me take you there.

My sister emerged from the bathroom, steam curling around her like a promise. She wore nothing but a towel slung low on her hips, water glistening on her collarbones. My throat went dry. This was wrong. Soooooooooooo fucking wrong. And yet, the wrongness of it, the taboo of fucking the woman, no, the sweet girl I grew up with thrummed through me like live wire.

"Thinking about her again?" My sisters voice was soft, but her eyes were dark, knowing. She closed the distance, her fingers tracing the waistband of my shorts.

I turned, catching her wrist. "No." And, honestly, I'm only partially lying. Right then, all I could really think about was the way my sweet sisters mouth tasted, the way she moaned when I pinned her against the wall last night. So, I pulled her close, towel slipping to the floor. Her bare skin met mine, hot and demanding. "I'm thinking about you."

Our kiss was bruising, hungry. My sister had just gotten her nails done with this intricate Chinese pattern and those nails scraped down my back as I lifted her, her legs locking around my waist. I carried her to the bed; the silk sheets cool beneath them. Her hips arched, grinding against the length of my shorts. "Fuckkkkk me, like you own me, my dear strong brother," she breathed, teeth grazing my earlobe.

I didn't hesitate. My shorts quite literally flew off me, her thighs parted and I drove into her in one deep claiming thrust. I wish you could have heard my sister as she cried out, back bowing off the mattress. "Yesssssssssss! Shit, yessssssss!" Her heels dug into my ass, urging and pushing me deeper.

I moved, hard and relentless.

My sister's soft long fingers twisted in the sheets, her gasps sharp as I pounded into her, the wet, slick sounds of our joining echoing in the room. I'll admit something about myself, I get off on watching. Watching us, watching her kitty as it grips my cock when I'm thrusting in and out of her, every shiver, and every gasp as we fuck, it drives me wild. I watched her, the flush spreading from her breasts to her throat, the way her lips parted on silent screams.

I don't want anyone rushing to the finish just yet, so let me slow you down with something almost as intoxicating as the sex itself. Think of it as me slipping my hand away just when you're trembling on the edge, holding you there, restless, aching while I whisper or just say, as I'm not a sexy female, something just as hot, just in a different way.

That morning, we had strolled through some gardens in the city, arms linked, playing the doting couple for the elderly tourists snapping photos. My had worn a demure sundress, her laughter light as she pointed at koi carp, while my hand rested possessively on the small of her back, fingers dipping just below the waistband where only she could feel the heat of my new claim, my sexy little sister (I'll never get tired of saying that now). The thought sent a fresh surge of dark energy through me. There's something so intoxicating about knowing you're doing the wrong thing not illegally, but morally, knowing it's socially forbidden and yet only the two of you carry that secret. Everyone else around you moves through their day, completely oblivious, smiling, talking, laughing, as if nothing is happening. And that's the rush: they don't see it, they don't feel the heat that's burning between us, but I do. Deep down, I know it's wrong, I know it's dangerous......and somehow, that makes everything and all of this even more addictive. I've never taken any kind of drugs before, so I can't compare but oh boy, I don't think they could compete with this kind of high at all.

You may continue slapping or beating if you want.

My sister's heels dug deeper into the muscles of my ass, pulling me impossibly closer. "Harder, harder" she gasped, arching her neck back, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat. "Make me forget everything but this." Her voice was a ragged whisper, thick with need and the shared guilt that only sharpened the edge of our desire.

I, of course, obliged, happily. I braced myself above her, muscles straining, driving into her with punishing, rhythmic thrusts that made the ornate wooden bed frame groan in protest against the wall. Each plunge was a gross violation, not just of my breathtaking sister, but of my gorgeous wife, of my marriage, of the boundaries between blood ties that should exist, yet, were being blown to bits. My sister's nails raked bloody trails down my back, a sharp counterpoint to the deep, guttural moans tearing from her chest. She even bit my shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, the metallic tang sharp in the humid air.

"Yes... fuck... like thatttttttttt!" she cried, her body tightening around me like a vice. Her eyes, dark and glazed, locked onto mine, holding nothing back. There was no pretense of sisterly affection now, only raw, desperate hunger. "You feel so good inside me. So much better than..."

I didn't want to hear her compare me to another man, didn't want the sound of his name poisoning the air between us. So, I crushed my mouth against hers, a brutal, hungry kiss that swallowed every word she might have said. I claimed her lips with the desperation of someone who knew this illusion was fragile, that the fever burning between us could shatter if I let reality intrude. In that moment, she was mine, and I refused to let the ghost of another man steal what I was taking from her.

And again, I must stop here, we have plans now, and I should confess, this is only a recollection of yesterday's events, written in stolen moments while the city hums outside our window. There's more I'll share later, when time allows. But right now, I'm too lost in living it, too caught up in the rush, and I know I must savor every second before it all comes to an end.

I know I may have gotten lost in the haze of the yesterday's events instead of plunging straight into the raw, aching details you're probably waiting for. I apologize for that, though maybe I shouldn't. Because the truth is, the real heat of what happened can't be captured in a few stolen lines. Not yet. When this is over, when I finally have the time to put every juicy detail into words, I'll lay it all out for you. For now, I'll leave you with just enough to imagine the taste of her still on my lips, and the knowledge that before long, I'll tell you everything.

And I know some of you might feel sorry for my wife, I had comments say just as such and I understand why. But hear me when I say this will end. I love my wife, I want her, and I'll make things right with her. I just have to close this chapter with my perfect little sister, end it clean, end it on a good note one where she can, maybe, not have my physically again but have these beautiful memories and still be my sister, before I can truly go back to where I belong.

Don't give up on me yet! I know I'm bad, but I do have some decency in me.