3: Always so wet
1112 Words
~ Evie ~
I don’t climb those stairs, not when Dad’s suddenly everywhere, and Claire’s eyes sharp like she smells sin. Four days of torture. Jack’s waiting. I’m already dripping. Horny.
Then Saturday morning they force a “family hike.” Bonding bullshit. Now I’m slogging through these damn woods, thighs screaming, sweat soaking my top and shorts, dripping down my back while every step rubs me worse.
The roots sticking out everywhere, and I keep tripping over them. Dad's up front with Claire, chatting about work or some boring crap, their voices fading as they power ahead. Jack's back here with me, like always, making sure I don't fall flat on my face.
"Come on, Evie, keep up," he says, his voice low but firm. He's got that big brother tone, the one that's supposed to motivate me, but all it does is make my p***y flutter. I hate how much I want him. He's just being the good guy, the one who helps his little stepsister when she lags behind in everything. Studies, sports, life. Always has been.
I remember when he first transferred to my school. That was back in high school, right after Dad and Claire got married. Jack was a year ahead, finishing up his senior year while I was struggling through junior. His old school kicked him out or something - wait, no, it was a transfer because Claire wanted him closer after the move. Anyway, he showed up in that hallway, tall as hell, backpack slung over one shoulder, and everyone stared. Including me. But he zeroed in on me right away, like it was his job to look out for me.
"Evie, you got that math homework?" he'd ask after school, plopping down next to me in the library. I'd be staring at the problems, totally lost, and he'd explain it step by step, patient as f**k. "See? Just plug in the numbers here. You're not dumb, you just need to slow down." His hand would brush mine when he pointed at the paper, and I'd get all hot, pretending it was nothing. But inside, I was dying. Desperate for more. For him to touch me for real.
Now, on this trail, it's the same s**t. I'm lagging, breathing heavy, and he's right there, grabbing my elbow to steady me when I stumble. "You good?" he asks. I nod.
But all I can think is how badly I need him inside me again. Right here if I could.
The group's getting farther ahead. I can barely see Dad's red hat through the trees. "Jack," I whisper, stopping to catch my breath. I lean against a tree, wiping sweat from my forehead. He stops too, turns to me with that concerned look. "What's up? Need water?"
I shake my head. No, I need you. Right now. The woods are thick here, bushes everywhere, no one around. "Pull me off the trail," I say, my voice coming out husky. Desperate.
He frowns a little. "Evie, we gotta catch up. Mom and Dad are..."
"f**k catching up," I cut him off, grabbing his hand. I tug him into the thicket, branches scratching my arms, but I don't care. We're hidden now, trees closing in around us. I push him against a big oak, my hands on his chest. "I need you. Now."
His eyes widen, but I see that spark. "Here? Evie, that's crazy. They could come back looking."
"Let them." I press my body against his, feeling his d**k already hardening through his shorts. "You've always helped me when I lag behind. Help me now."
He groans low in his throat, hands coming to my hips. "You're gonna get us in trouble."
"Good trouble."
Back in school, he'd help me with everything. Track practice - I'd be last in laps, gasping, and he'd jog back, matching my pace.
"Breathe steady, Evie. In through your nose, out your mouth." His arm would brush mine as we ran, and I'd imagine him pinning me down in the locker room after, f*****g me against the benches. But he never did. He was the perfect brother. Keeping me moving, meeting up with the group. While I burned for him.
Now, no more pretending. I yank at his shorts, shoving them down just enough to free his c**k. It's heavy in my hand. I stroke it fast. He's already so hard for me.
"Because of you," he mutters, voice rough. He spins us around so my back's against the tree now, bark rough on my skin through the thin fabric. He hikes up one of my legs, hooking it around his waist. His fingers shove my shorts and panties aside, finding me soaked. "Always so wet."
"For you. Always." I gasp.
He's in me, deep. Standing like this, it's raw. His hips slam into mine, tree shaking a little with each thrust.
"Yes, Jack... harder." My voice is breathy, messy. I'm clawing at his back now, nails digging in through his shirt. Probably leaving marks. Good. I want him to feel me later. Remember this.
He grunts, picking up speed.
The woods are quiet around us, just birds and leaves rustling. His c**k feels so good, filling me up.
It's real. His thrusts get erratic.
We both tense, stifling our cries. I come hard. He follows, groaning low, spilling into me. Hot, messy.
Then... a rustle. In the bushes. Not wind. Something moving.
We freeze. My leg's still wrapped around him. "What was that?" I whisper, heart racing.
"Animal?" he says, but his voice is tense. He pulls out slow. We dress and clean up in frantic silence. The rustle happens again. Closer.
"Jack..." I grab his arm. Is it a deer? Or... someone? Dad? Claire? Watching us?
"Let's go," he says, grabbing my hand. "Catch up before they notice."
We burst back onto the trail, hurrying. Dad and Claire's voices drift back... they're waiting up ahead. "There you are!" Dad calls. "What took so long?"
"Evie twisted her ankle a bit," Jack lies smooth. "Helped her stretch it out."
Claire frowns. "Are you sure you’re okay, Evie?"
"Yeah." I force a smile, but inside I’m falling apart.
I can still feel Jack’s c*m. I want more. So much more. But what if…
No. Stop with the what-ifs.
I just want to f**k him again.
And again.
And again.
Right now the only truth I know is this: pleasing him with my p***y feels like the only thing that matters in my entire life.
Do you understand?
Or maybe you can’t even imagine what it feels like when Jack’s d**k is inside me.
See you at the family dinner next Saturday.
- Writer
