J. Bradley: Raped by brother

"Ohhhhh, I'm hot now!" she cried.

Carla lifted her face. It shone with moisture. She milled warmly and lovingly at her brother. "You heard, honey," she said. "Come enjoy yourself."

Deke seemed eager. He positioned himself between Monica's thighs, aiming his prick. It was a nice, normal prick. And he was still handsome, no matter what kind of bastard he was. Monica concentrated on that, and it was easier to do.

He slit forward. His prick entered her swimming cunt. "Ahhhh, God!" he cried softly, sinking down on her.

"You like it, honey?" Carla asked, happy with herself in being able to make her brother happy. "Fuck her, honey – fuck her hard and come in her all you can!"

She tugged at Monica's arms in a signal, and Monica slipped them around Deke's neck. Again at Carla's urging, she lifted her thighs around his waist and rocked her cunt up and wide open and began to move with him, giving him a good fuck.

She closed her eyes. She pretended he was Burke, stroking his prick in and out of her body, loving her. She felt her emotions rise, and she knew she wasn't going to have any trouble coming.

She moaned and tossed her head, feeling Carla's hands on her tits and hips. The hands ran over Deke's pumping butt, too. Deke groaned and got ready to shoot his load into her.

Monica rolled her head to the side. There was a crashing sound. Her eyes shocked open, and she saw Burke.

It had to be a dream. Could she really imagine him that hard? Could pretending take on such solid reality?

There were shouts. And then she saw Chester, too, and she knew it had to be real, because she wasn't even thinking about fucking good old Chester.

There was another man she didn't know. He wore a kind of uniform. He looked like an older version of Burke. She lifted her arms as if she'd be able to reach around the man fucking her and cling to Burke.

"Burke!" she cried. "Honey, I'm coming!"

She shuddered and did it just as Harry bellowed and a deafening blast filled the cabin and blotted out all sound. There was a cry of pain, and she saw her Burke clutch his arm and spin around.

Wendy screamed and screamed, even after the second thud of sound, a deeper, more authoritative whump that shook dust from the boards in the ceiling.

Harry was flung backwards against the wall, and his gun flew, clattering to the floor. There was a big hole in the center of his lanky chest. Smoke curled from the barrel of the gun in Chester's hand.

Emmett growled and launched his impenetrable, hairy body at Chester's stocky one, and they became two bulls locked in deadly combat. Wendy screamed and screamed.

Whit rocked his chair back and forth, unable to burst free of his bonds. The chair walked across the room slowly. The older Burke beat at the back of Emmett's thick neck until his grip on Chester weakened and Chester was able to beat him to the ground.

She felt Deke try to rise. Instinctively, she clutched his neck with the full force of her lithe arms and held him against her.

"Carla – the gun!" he choked. "Get the gun!"

Wendy screamed and screamed, holding her big tits in her hands as if to protect them from harm. Whit was neatly across the room, rocking the chair inch by inch.

The legs gave way just as Carla reached for Harry's gun on the floor, the aged glue in the struts cracking sharply. The ropes puddled, and Whit's foot kicked out, catching Carla in her cunt.

She screamed and dropped and writhed on her side, her hands clutched at her crotch. She wasn't masturbating this time.

Monica felt her arms weakening. She was going to release Deke any moment. She saw Burke staggering toward them, blood running down his arm and dripping from his fingers as he clutched the wound.

"You raping bastard!" he cried. "That's my girl!"

He kicked out hard. The toe of his swamp boot thudded into Deke's ribs with a cracking sound that made him bellow. Wendy screamed and screamed. Burke's father went to her and slapped her face hard, and she stopped.

Chester stood over her. He puffed. He suddenly looked too old for this. He reached down and swept her up into his strong arms and held her tightly.

"It's all over now, Monica," he said.

She wailed out a wrenching sob and clung to him, shuddering the whole length of her young body, never wanting to let go of him again.

He carried her to Whit and looked down at him. Then he reached down and lifted Whit to his feet and put his arm around Whit's shoulder fondly – the first time he'd ever done it.

"Let's go home, Whit."

Whit looked at him. "I don't dare," he said, his chin trembling.

"It's different now, boy."

"It was all my fault, Chester – my idea."

"He knows. I told him why. He knows he's done it wrong up to now. Trust me, Whit – it's going to be different. It's going to be all right. He – uh – he had a stroke. He's, all right, now. He's been waiting for this so long it got to him. Now he realizes there's no way to stop it from happening. You've just got to live life and take the risks."

"Are you sore, Chester?"

"Furious." He smiled. "But I'll get over it too. He needs you now, Whit. He needs a son to take over. He'll settle for a bright grandson, and the hell with who he looks like."

"Oh, Chester!" Monica sobbed happily, hugging him again, loving the strong old body.

"I thought we were sunk," Whit grinned finally. "How'd you do it, Chester? I could have sworn I gave you the slip last night."

"You did. It hurts my pride to admit it, but you did. It was Burke and his father who came across your car back on the hammock. Burke called the house, and then he went looking. When he saw the boat docked here earlier this afternoon, he radioed in, and his father got in touch with me."

He looked at Monica. "There's another change," he said, his eyes twinkling. "You won't have to pay such close attention to that bougainvillea arbor any more. Your young man is welcome any time."

Monica turned her head. Burke was standing next to her, grinning from ear to ear despite his arm.

"Oh, Burke!" she cried happily, hugging him.

"Better get dressed, honey," he said, all too conscious of her nudity and his father's presence at the same time.

"Just for now," she whispered. She went serious. "Oh, Burke – I wanted it to be you!"

He looked at her and swallowed down a lump. "That's good enough, Monica," he said.

It was all she wanted to hear. She put her head into the hollow of his shoulder and sobbed with happiness and relief.

Chester drew himself and Whit away from them. He surveyed the row of tied-up people and watched Burke's father pull the last knot tight and straighten up.

"I think the best way would be to get the Marine Patrol out of Naples," he said. "I'll radio them."

Chester nodded, then glanced toward Monica and Burke. "Why don't you and I take a walk and look at the water, Mr. Hammond? Talk a little, I have the feeling we're going to be seeing quite a bit of each other."

"His arm," Hammond said.

"It's not that serious. Just winged him. I think she can fix it better than either one of us."

Hammond hesitated. "She isn't even dressed."

Chester grinned. "Hell, you're not that old. He's growing up, Mr. Hammond. Don't make the same mistake Galt did."

Hammond grinned back. "Fair enough," he said.

They left the cabin, taking the others with them. Monica pressed her naked body against Burke. Then she drew him toward the bedroom and closed the door.

She lay back on the bed. She held her arms open and took him in them. She reached for his prick and found that it was stiff and eager.

"It's the best one, darling," she said. "Ohhhh, fuck me and make me feel clean and good and right!" she cried.

He didn't get to ask if she was ready this time. She didn't give him time.