My Brother Came That Afternoon of the Photoshoot

My name is Carolina. I’m twenty-two years old, five foot three, generously endowed, with hair down to my waist, wide hips, and an ass that gets attention when I walk without thinking about it. My sex life has never been shy. I’ve had all kinds of adventures, encounters with strangers, threesomes, hotel weekends with no holds barred. I’ve been fucked in every hole, and I’ve come with a mouth full more times than I can count.

Even so, inside me there was a void that none of those experiences had ever filled. A persistent fantasy, a thorn in my side that had a name of its own.

My brother Adrián.

Thirty-six years old, married to Lucía, two small children, and a photography studio in the old town. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a beard always half-groomed and hands that seem made to hold anything with authority. I started noticing him one night when he came home from a wedding and fell asleep on the sofa with his shirt half-open. I had just turned eighteen, and that image lodged in me as if it had been tattooed on the inside.

For years it was a fantasy with no edges. I’d see him, get wet, touch myself thinking about him, and go to sleep with a knot between my legs. I’d push two fingers deep inside me while biting my lip so I wouldn’t scream his name in my parents’ house. I didn’t imagine any scenario in which anything could happen. Until last winter, when I decided I didn’t want to keep living with that doubt. If the answer was going to be no, I preferred hearing it come out of his mouth.

I started slowly, almost shyly. When I saw him at family dinners, I’d hug him a second longer than normal. I’d kiss him very close to the corner of his mouth, so that a millimeter to the left would have been something else. In the car I’d rest my hand on his thigh and leave it there, as if nothing, until he adjusted himself so he wouldn’t keep feeling it.

Sometimes I could tell he was responding. After a hug that lasted too long, it seemed to me that he breathed deeper. Another time, when we got out of the car, he adjusted his pants discreetly. But nothing ever turned into a gesture. Adrián had that door sealed shut, and I couldn’t find a way to open it.

So I decided to go one step further.

—I need you to take photos of me —I told him one Thursday afternoon at his studio, with a machine-made coffee in my hands.

He arched a brow without looking up from the computer.

—What kind of photos?

—All kinds. A full session. My Instagram has been dead and I want to give it a refresh.

He said yes. The shoot was long, almost four hours. We started with dressed looks, oversized sweaters, a midi skirt, the neutral stuff. Then lingerie. I was wearing a burgundy set I’d bought that same week thinking about him. In the last half hour I took off the top and covered myself with one arm for some black-and-white shots. He worked with concentration, adjusting the light, marking the angle for me, repeating “look there” with a voice a little rougher than usual.

—Carolina —he said at one point, putting the camera down—. This is getting weird.

—Why? —I said, pretending not to understand.

—Because you’re my sister.

He had said it. It wasn’t in my head. There was something he had to stop himself to remind himself of out loud. That sentence gave me more hope than any of the hugs I’d been stealing from him for months.

After that session, the dynamic changed. We started talking more, almost every day. By message, by long voice notes, after work. The conversation drifted toward topics we’d never touched before: past experiences, former partners, what each of us had tried and what we hadn’t. One dawn, after a couple of drinks too many, he confessed that he measured nine inches. He said it laughing, like a technical fact, but I stayed awake until five in the morning with three fingers in my cunt imagining that cock driving all the way into me, imagining it in my throat, imagining how he would come inside me.

I decided to play my last card. I asked for another shoot, but this time I was clear from the first message: I wanted him completely naked, in his studio, without an assistant. During the week before, I sent him one audio message every day. I told him I was counting the days, that I thought about him when I touched myself, that he’d gotten into my head and there was no way to get him out. He replied briefly, evasively, reminding me each time that he was my brother and that we weren’t going there. But he kept replying.

Friday came.

I showed up at the studio with a white robe over my naked body. I gave him a tight hug, kissed him beside the mouth, and untied my belt without waiting for him to say anything. Adrián swallowed.

—Let’s start —I said.

***

The session was slow. I put myself into each pose as if I’d rehearsed it for days. Leaning against the wall, sitting on the floor with my legs opened to one side, lying on the sofa with one arm partly covering me. Every change in position included a moment from me, standing in front of him, fixing my hair, letting him see me all at once without rushing.

—Look at my tits —I told him in one of the series, without smiling—. I need them to look natural.

He nodded and shot. The camera trembled a little in his hands.

I talked throughout the whole session. I told him how each pose felt, asked for advice on the angle, said I was hot, that I needed a sip of water. In one of the sets, sitting on the floor with my legs open to one side, I let my pussy lips show, shiny and already swollen, without even trying to hide it. Adrián lowered the camera for a second, swallowed, raised it again. Every so often I’d lean over the laptop screen to see the photos. I’d rest against his shoulder, breathe very close to his neck, brush my naked tits against his arm, letting my nipple slide over his skin. He didn’t move. He clenched his jaw and kept clicking, but under his pants his cock kept showing more and more.

When we finished, I let a moment pass. I didn’t put the robe back on. I went up to him, hugged him fully, and rested against his chest.

—Thank you, brother —I whispered against his neck.

I felt the bulge.

It was hard under his pants, pressed against my hip. It wasn’t shy arousal; it was a full erection, obvious, impossible to hide. Slowly I lowered my hand and rested it over the fabric. I pushed my palm against his cock and felt it throb under my fingers.

—Please —I said without letting go—. Once. Just let me give you a handjob. Once. And I won’t ask for anything else.

—Carolina, no.

—One.

I kissed him on the mouth. Barely a touch, lips closed. I pulled the zipper down with my other hand. He breathed deeply, closed his eyes for a second, opened them, and held my gaze.

—Just once —he said—. That’s it.

***

I slid my hand into his boxer briefs and pulled his cock out all the way. A gasp escaped me. It was exactly as I’d imagined it for years, or better. Thick, long, with the vein running along its length and the glans swollen, glossy, already beaded with fluid at the tip. I wrapped my hand around it and couldn’t quite close my fingers all the way. I started stroking him slowly, without rhythm, squeezing the base and moving up to the tip, gathering the drop that was peeking out with my thumb and smearing it all over the head.

—Fuck —he muttered, throwing his head back.

I kissed him again, this time for real. I opened his mouth with my tongue and he answered. What had been held back for years broke in less than a minute. He grabbed the back of my neck, pulled me against him, and kissed me as if he wanted to make up all at once for every time he hadn’t done it. He slid his other hand between my legs without asking permission, pried open my pussy lips with two fingers, and checked how wet I was.

—You’re soaked, fuck —he panted against my mouth.

—I’ve been soaked for you for years —I answered in his ear—. Put them in.

He drove two fingers into me to the knuckles and moved them slowly, curling them, looking for my spot. I kept stroking his cock with my hand, squeezing harder every time he touched me inside. I let go for a moment to suck the fingers that had just been inside me and ran my tongue over his, tasting myself. His eyes went black.

I pulled his pants all the way down and knelt between his legs. I looked up at him from below, mouth open, tongue out, his cock pointing at my face. He tried to say something, a reminder of the agreement, a “this wasn’t it,” but I already had my tongue at the base. I ran the tip of my tongue over his balls, sucked them one by one, took them into my mouth carefully and felt them tighten against my palate. Then I slowly worked my way up, kissing him all along one side, wet and slow, until I reached the glans. I gave it a long lick, circling the crown, and took as much of him into my mouth as I could.

—Fuck, Carolina —he murmured.

I clenched my thighs at hearing him say my name like that. I started sucking him without hurry, going down as far as I could and pulling him out with a smack. Each time I took him deeper. When the tip touched the back of my throat, a dry, loud gag escaped me, and he trembled all over. I pulled him out, breathed, and plunged him back in. A strand of spit dripped from my chin and wet his balls. I grabbed them with my free hand and kneaded them while I kept sucking him.

—Look how well your little sister sucks cock —I said in a rough voice, with his cock pressed against my face—. I’d been wanting to have it in my mouth for years.

Adrián let out a growl and grabbed my hair. He shoved it in himself, pushing my head until my nose bumped against his pubis. I held on. My eyes filled with tears and spit ran down my chin, but I didn’t pull away. When he let me go, I stuck out my whole tongue and licked his cock from the balls to the tip, looking him in the eye.

My free hand went down to me. I started rubbing my clit with two fingers, legs open on the floor, while I kept sucking him. He noticed. He looked down, saw me touching myself while I sucked him, and breathed hard.

—Get up —he said.

I stood. He knocked me onto the sofa with a movement I hadn’t seen coming and spread my legs with his knees. He got on top of me, kissed my neck, went down to my tits, and lingered there. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, bit it softly, tugged it with his teeth, and moved to the other. My hands were in his hair and I pushed my hips upward, searching for him. He kept going down. He kissed my stomach, ran his tongue over my navel, opened my legs all the way with his hands, and buried his face in my cunt.

—Oh, fuck, fuck —I panted.

His tongue was everywhere at once. He licked my lips, sucked my clit, slipped the tip of his tongue into my hole and came back up. He slid two fingers into me again and curled them while he sucked my clit with closed lips. My whole back arched. I grabbed his head with both hands and pressed his face against my cunt, grinding myself against his mouth without the slightest shame.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop...

I came in his mouth with a long spasm that surged up from my thighs. I felt my cunt clenching around his fingers, felt his beard soaking through, felt him keep licking me while my legs shook. When he lifted his face, it was shiny all the way up to his cheeks. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and smiled for the first time all afternoon.

—Now you’re going to find out —he said.

He positioned himself between my legs and grabbed his cock with his hand. He slid the head up and down over my pussy lips, coating it in my juices. He set it at my entrance and pushed.

He entered slowly. I felt him making his way in, centimeter by centimeter, stretching me. When he reached the bottom, I went breathless for a second. My brother’s nine inches were inside me. I closed my eyes and let out a long moan.

—Fuck me —I begged—. Fuck me like you’ve wanted to for years.

At first carefully, as if he were still negotiating with himself over what he was doing. Soon he stopped negotiating. He found a rhythm. He pulled nearly all the way out and rammed back in with a hard thrust that made my head hit the arm of the sofa. Every plunge made a sound, the wet slosh of my flooded cunt, the slap of his balls against my ass, both our broken breathing.

I can’t believe it.

He changed my position. He put me on all fours on the sofa and stood behind me. He grabbed my hips and drove it in again in one shot, all the way to the hilt. From that angle he reached a place no one had ever touched before. A cry escaped me that I couldn’t control.

—Chssst —he said, spanking my ass cheek—. We’re in the studio.

—I don’t care —I panted, pushing my ass back—. Harder.

He obeyed. He started fucking me with all his hips, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back. He spanked my ass between thrusts and the slaps left my skin burning. He pushed his thumb into my mouth and I sucked it like another cock, choking, saliva dripping onto the sofa. Then he pulled it out, wet, and ran it over my asshole.

—There too, someday —he said in a dark voice.

—Whenever you want, brother —I answered, pressing my ass against his finger.

I ended up pressed against the studio wall, palms flat on the exposed brick, ass up, and him gripping my hips from behind. He was fucking me at a pace I couldn’t keep up much longer. Neither could I. He reached around and found my clit with two fingers. He started rubbing it in circles at the same time as he buried himself deep inside me. With his other hand he grabbed my tits, pinched my nipples, squeezed hard.

—Come again —he whispered in my ear, biting my earlobe—. Come with my cock inside you.

—Oh, fuck, Adrián, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming...

I clenched my teeth, threw my head back, moaned his name against the wall, and felt the orgasm rise from my legs to the nape of my neck. My cunt closed around his cock like a fist, and he let out a guttural groan.

—I’m going to come —he said through his teeth—. Tell me where.

—Inside —I begged him—. Come inside, please, come inside your sister.

That’s what made him go. He grabbed my hair with one hand and my hip with the other, drove his cock in to the deepest point, and came inside me in long, hot spurts that I felt one by one. He stayed pressed against my ass, his cock still buried to the hilt, throbbing inside. I could feel myself filling, feel the semen looking for a way out around the edges, feel it running down my thigh when he finally pulled back a little.

He stayed still behind me, breathing against my nape, his cock still inside, softening slowly. When he finally pulled out, I felt his cum slide down the inside of my thigh. He bent down, ran two fingers over my pussy lips to gather the cum, and smeared it over my mouth. I sucked them, looking him in the eye.

***

We sat on the sofa without picking up the clothes from the floor. Adrián put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned against his chest and felt that his heart was still racing. My legs were sticky, a thread of semen running from my thigh to the back of my knee, and I had an idiot smile I couldn’t get off my face.

—This shouldn’t happen again —he said softly, without conviction.

—I know —I answered, and ran my hand over his cock, still soft, still wet with me.

Neither of us believed it. The next photoshoot was already on the calendar for three weeks later. That afternoon I didn’t open my mouth to argue. I kissed his chest, licked a nipple without really thinking, closed my eyes, and let myself breathe against him, with that strange, new feeling of having finally fulfilled something I’d been asking my own head for years. And the certainty, too, that this had only been the beginning, and that next time I would ask him to come in my mouth, in my ass, in my face, everywhere he hadn’t done it yet.