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</div> <span style="font-size: 22px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">T</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">oday was a long day. What had begun with a nice morning of seeing his sister sleeping lazily, her top having been undone in the night, her bra missing in action revealing those solitary curves of her breasts with perky, pink buds--hard because of the lack of a heater, yet warm because of her comatose state of mind. Just the thought of seeing them made his cock ache with desire, only for him to press a hand down against his groin, and grind as if reprimanding the solitary state of affairs; stirrings of arousal at play there. His other arm covered his face, though he was not abashed by the sentiment of liking his sister's curvaceous body. He was actually trying to sleep, but the feeling of her lips against his still linger there. Like icicles from rain freezing along the overhangs of the roof of their house. It lingered there.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">H</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">e had no doubt he'd hear of this tomorrow. He imagined a lot of things. The things Rose would say once she calmed down and thought it over. She was very emotionally driven, and not just because she was a woman, either. It was in her nature. Just as it was in his. Maybe it had sloughed off somehow, rubbing off on her from the number of times he'd stood up to their dad for her,  protecting her against asshole boyfriends, and backstabbing friends. Maybe she picked it up along the way, like taking his hand in hers. Or maybe it was all on him. It was just some fantasy, some wish, that he could see her liking some aspect of him enough that she then made it apart of herself. Jason sighed heavily, what had he done?<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">J</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">ason's mind stretched back, unfolding like a rolled up tapestry. In came undone and his memory replayed those few seconds, moments, minutes that felt like hours--over and over again. One minute he was tending to his wounded sibling, the next he was taking advantage of her shock and awe; mouths blinding, tongues meshing together. He could taste her still. A sweet melancholy; tears mixed with saliva mixed with urgency. But was it really the best time for him to show her how he felt? How he'd truly felt for the past three or four years? Was it for the best that he could not simply tell her those words, that every guy who'd hurt her before, had said?<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">t wasn't right. It wasn't fair. <br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">H</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">e'd once again tucked his arm under his head, leaning his head back against his palms like they were hard, calloused cushions. Once comfortable, he closed his eyes. It wasn't too long after, he'd hear his bedroom door creak open. The only reason she could not actively hide her presence, was because he essentially lived in the attic. To get to his 'room' you had to climb a carpeted staircase with two landings. His room was actually above her room. It was a spacious place, enough for a bed, a couch against the far, sloping wall, with a window view on the other side of his bed. The walls were shaped like an inverted-v. A closet on either side of the 10 x 10 room.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">t was hard not to notice; the door creaked, some of the floor panels groaned even with Rose's petite frame, and the fact you could literally feel a change in the air flow just by opening the door at the base of the stairs. In the summertime, it was miserable up there. In winter and fall, it wasn't too bad. All the heat from their fireplace which ran up through his bedroom transferred heat to the walls, which, in turn, heated his room. He didn't say anything, he expected her to talk and him to listen. But, something was off. Way off. <br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">R</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">ose wasn't flustered. She wasn't pouty. She didn't immediately begin to express her disapproval over his psychotic break in the parking lot and driving off Greg. Was it Greg? It was Greg, he was sure of it. But then, calmly, and as plain as the lights that dimly illuminated his bedroom, sparkling like the stars they were meant to pose as--she knelt down on the bed. He left knee had found its footing in the canyon between his thighs, her right knee had settled against the outside of his left thigh. She supported her self on her hands and knees. More surprisingly, she began to grate and gyrate her hips against his masculine physique. However, what she thought was his cock, was, in fact, his pelvis. She had scaled too far up.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">S</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">ilky cotton panties, white in color, with little frills and scallops and bows--ground down against his lower abdomen. It was enough to make Jason tense up and pay attention. The action exciting and exhilarating to his nerves. This had been what he'd wanted; a blend of sensual and innocent, begging to be guided by his more...experienced hands. Hands which reached out and took both ahold of and control over her heavy rocking hips. His eyes snapped open, wide-eyed and alert now. What was she doing?! Did she even know?!<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">R</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">ose,"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He uttered but it turned into a groan. He could feel he lush pliant folds, already moist enough to saturate her underwear's center, where it covered her core. The radiant heart of her being. His hands slackened, but only just barely--and only for a moment or two. Even if she wasn't hitting him dead on, her movements were still very effective at arousing him.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">R</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">ose,"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He said again, this time it wasn't a groan--but it wasn't exactly like he were mad at her for doing what she was doing. But this time, he was more assertively. He made sure she knew he was awake and very aware of what she was doing. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"Slow down, Sweety..."</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">He whispered, breathlessly.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">J</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">ason shifted in the bed with her atop him, addressing her use of a satin nightgown to cover her self. He knew the tank tops and camo pants were just a masquerade; playing the part everyone wanted to see. She was really much more modest than she tended to let on. Scooting until he could sit up with his back propped against the headboard. He gently took her left knee and laid across and down beside his right leg. Now she would feel her effects more clearly; cock bulging through his boxers, bending as it met resistance. The mushroomed tip oozing with hot precum through the thin layer of cotton between them.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">O</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">ne hand reached up and found the back of her neck, then the next followed. They both caressed and milked her skin for her warmth. They were warm and inviting. Easing her nightgown down her arms, to her elbows, one drew upon of the two strings until the came undone and her gown fell down around her. She'd feel him paw at her skin; groping hands, strong hands, protective hands cupping her breasts,  fondling her dotingly. He was taking his time, he was making sure, she was sure. Her bra dampened the sensation of roughness his hands could provide. It would be stifling to her, almost like she were a starving dog and he had a slab of succulent beef ready for her to tear into. But because of the bra, it made her insides squeeze her with naught but a dull ache rather than feeling the wholesome tender loving care he was providing for her.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">F</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">urthermore, he stopped groping her, and instead, cupped her cheek. His other hand followed suit so that he was holding her face in adoration.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"Do you feel me..?"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He whispered like a secret.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">J</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">ason's hips rose to meet hers and even though his cock was still, very much in his boxers, his girth was large enough to grind against her folds, feeling them growing all the more drenched. He then kissed Rose. It was like before; hot, tongue-heavy, and minty. But this time it spoke of reservation, of reluctance and the futility of fighting a losing and pitched battle. He wanted permission. Her permission. His tongue slid deep into her mouth, hand hands hold either side of her face almost as if her head were a basketball. He was guarded, and understandably so. But, all the same, his sanity couldn't take it much longer; hunger warred with control, desire dominated his fucked up morales. He rolled her over on to her side, hand grabbing her bare ass, what was hanging free at any rate. Her leg was hiked, she was splayed. All he'd have to do was brush her panties aside, aim himself and push ever forward unto her center; her molten core. <br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">B</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">ut he didn't. He got very close; his cock sprang through the central opening in his boxers and she could feel his full size. He was at least seven and a half inches long, and as thick as a zucchini, three maybe four inches in diameter. He would most definitely fill her up. This was what a real man felt like. He worried it would scare her, and right now he couldn't contemplate giving up now, now that he had come this far. His breathing was labored, pounding waves of heat like fires bore down against her throat as he kissed her again and again. They were being emitted fiercely from his nostrils.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">s this what you truly want, Rose? There's no going back--if we do this--it can't be undone,"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He warned her, petting her hair as he took long deep, shivering breaths. He was trying so hard to stay calm, but she could tell from the way he quivered--he wanted her. All of her. Mind.Body. Soul. All of it.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">f people find out, they may not understand,"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He told her. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"You need to think about this--you just broke up with your boyfriend. "</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He said. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"I've had years to contemplate this moment in my head--you've barely had hours..."</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"><br/>
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