J. Bradley: Raped by brother

"What's it take to find out? More money? What do you need?"

"Just time, sir."

"Time can be bought, Chester. First thing in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

"It's going to happen, Chester. Soon. God damn it, the air stinks of it! Don't stop with that Hammond kid or that Carla twat, either, out get the word out that I want Herb Lobocky. I want their son-of-a-bitch father!"

"Yes, sir. I'd be glad to fix you a nightcap before I leave, sir. I really think you'd better have something to settle yourself."

"Aaah!" Galt growled. "I'm too old to need a mother, Chester. You carry that.44 of yours?"

"Yes, sir."

"You wearing it now?"

"In the house, sir?"

"Yes, damn it! From now on! In the house and everywhere – even to bed with you, and my apologies to Christine." There was the sound of her grandfather's hand clapping firmly and affectionately onto Chester's massive, muscle bound shoulder, and then his voice was entirely at ease and robust. "I'll have that drink, now. You worry about me too damn much, Chester. A good blow now and then does me good. Without my dear wife any more, I've got to blow it off one way or another, don't I?" he chuckled.

"I wouldn't argue with that, sir," Chester said, his tone indicating there was a big grin spreading over his face.

Monica heard their steps fade toward the den. She let out her breath slowly. Her mind reeled. Even her legs didn't work right as she went back to her bed and sat on the edge in the darkness.

This time, the pieces did fit. She didn't know whether to feel enlightened or perfectly outraged. It was clear that every move she and Whit made was known to their grandfather.

Every friend was checked. Even the parents of their friends. And when Chester or Louis drove them somewhere, they were more than just drivers or chaperones. They were armed bodyguards!

God, it was incredible! It shook her to the core and made her shiver and hug her breasts tightly. Did Whit know all this? Is this what he'd been keeping from her?

She made a face of revulsion and shuddered. She'd had no idea her grandfather was that kind of man – running their father off, paying him to stay away from his own children!

Monica just barely remembered her father. She drew forth the image of a stocky man with broad features and dark hair. A man with a startlingly handsome smile and a smooth voice he used to sing her to sleep with when he sat beside her bed in the darkness.

She'd loved him. She'd been only a small girl.

She hadn't understood why he'd left, why she and Whit and their mother had moved in with Grampa, why her last name had been changed to Sanderhoff.

It began to make sense now. The restrictions and close guard made sense, too. If her mother had been kidnapped and ransomed and murdered, then she could understand why her grandfather had kept her and Whit isolated from the outside world.

She understood that he was trying to protect them, and the feeling of revulsion left. She shivered again. The possessiveness in her grandfather's voice when he'd said it was going to happen again was scary now.

"Oh, Burke…" she cried softly.

Not Burke! He couldn't be part of anything like that!

She sprang from the bed. She had to talk to Whit. She had to talk to somebody!

She started out her door. She heard Chester and her grandfather still talking, their voices coming from the den. She could just see Chester's white-coated back in the doorway.

She closed her door silently and hurried to the French doors leading to the outside balcony. She could go down it and make the short jump over to her brother's balcony and go into his room without any chance of being seen.

She looked over the railing at the terrace below, one story down. She climbed lithely over the wrought railing and stood on the foot-wide edge of her bedroom balcony and looked straight ahead. She'd done it before. Years ago, when she'd met Whit's dare to follow him. Still, she licked her lips and felt them suddenly dry.

She tensed herself and then made the leap. Her feet landed surely, and her slim fingers grasped Whit's railing. She let out her breath and climbed over and was just ready to bang on his French doors when she heard the giggle again.

The curtain was half drawn over the glass doors. His bathroom light was on. She peered inside carefully and then jumped back, getting the shock of her life.

Whit had a girl in there!

They came out of the bathroom together, both stark naked. The girl had long blond hair. Her tits were pointed and jiggly, with pink nipples at the ends.

Whit was drying her back with a towel, following her into the bedroom. She giggled again, stopping, leaning her head back against his shoulder as Whit rubbed the towel over her pert, round asscheeks again and again.

"I think my butt's good and dry, honey," she said laughingly. "But my pussy's still wet. Ooooo, it's just all wet, Whit, honey."

He laughed with her. He dropped the towel. His hands came round and cupped her pointed tits. He rolled them on her chest, stroking them with his fingers, tweaking her nipples gently until she gasped heatedly.

"It's gonna get even wetter, baby – just as soon as I shoot my big load up it. Then it's gonna be soaked!"

"Oh, you talk naughty, Whit," she chided. "You keep talking dirty like that, and I'm going to leave, and then you'll just have to jack off."

His hands swept down her flat tummy to her golden-furred mound, and his fingers slid over her pussy lips and into the slippery gap. She spread her thighs and helped him, and Monica watched her brother's stiff finger slip right up the girl's cunt hole.

"Ohhhhhh, Whit…" she gasped, her hips beginning to circle.

"You're not gonna leave, Carla," he said huskily. "You like my finger fucking in and out of your sweet pussy too much. You're gonna like my hard cock even better. Besides, you know I have to let you out of this place. It's like breaking out of a fucking prison, unless you know how to do it."

"Do you really have electric eyes and all that stuff, honey."

"The whole works, baby. Even three big black dogs prowling around in the yard."

"Oh, you do not!"

"Sure, we do," he grinned. "Come on over here, and I'll show you."

He walked her toward the French doors. Monica's heart pounded, and she looked around wildly for a way to escape. She didn't know about any dogs, but after overhearing Chester and her grandfather, she wouldn't be surprised if they were down there.

It didn't matter if they were. Whit and Carla were nearly to the doors. Monica flattened herself against the wall. The door swung open and bumped against her thrusting tits. Only the thin curtain over the glass hid her. They stepped onto the balcony and looked at the beach, and she could hear the wet suck of her brother's finger as it swirled around in Carla's pussy.

"See the dogs? There goes one!"

"Oh, there's no dog. Hey, if there's a dog down there, bring him up, and I'll show you something really wild!"

Whit gasped. His finger stopped its deep swirling. Monica could just see his stiff cock through the gauzy curtain. It throbbed up against the bottom of her crotch and became imbedded in the deep crack of Carla's ass.

"My God!" he gasped. "You wouldn't!"

"Wanna bet?" she giggled. "Mmmmmmm, baby, after you get through working me up with that finger of yours, I'd fuck anything!"

She whirled around in his arms suddenly and plastered her soft body against his, flinging her arms around his neck, kissing him, nipping at his lips with her white teeth.

"Ohhhh, honey – fuck me! God, don't make me get any hotter! Give me that big wonderful prick of yours! Now!"

Whit gasped and clamped his hands around her tight buttocks. He lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them at the ankles behind his back.