It wasn't that Billy wanted to be an asshole, but goddamn, did every fucking person in this hick town have to piss him off so much? He could admit he liked pissing Harrington off and threatening Max's little friends. And he wasn't ashamed to admit he loved the way the Bible-thumpers practically offered up their virtue to him on a silver platter and the way every desperate cougar and bored housewife couldn't keep their hands off him. He'd never wanted for pussy in California, but in Hawkins, Indiana, he fucked so much he had to be careful not to red-raw his cock on some girl's wild bush.
His home life was shit, so it was no surprise he spent as much time out of the house as he could. No better way to spend it than his cock buried in a tight cunt or wet mouth. He'd yet to find an Indiana chick willing to let him put it in her ass. God, he missed Cali chicks, with their tanned skin, blonde hair, and long legs, equally adventurous in the surf and in the sack.
There was only one singular perk to being home when Billy slipped into the house seconds before curfew. The one Cali girl still in his life. His little sister. Maxine Mayfield, somehow both the bane of his existence and the apple of his eye. The only girl he didn't want to be a complete jerk to. He tried not to be, at least. It wasn't his fault that Max had a proclivity for lying and rule-breaking. It wasn't his fault that neither Neil nor Susan ever punished her. Was it really so bad if he took it upon himself to teach his little sister about consequences and right and wrong if no one else was going to? If Billy tried to pull half the shit that she did, he'd have wound up in the E.R. rocking a broken nose and black eyes or a broken arm and lying through his teeth about how he'd had a little accident that looked nothing like a small mistake again. Billy could take it; the beatings hardly fazed him anymore, but he didn't want Max to see him like that. She was still a little girl inside, no matter how grown she pretended to be. He could tell she knew Neil was bad news the way she shrank and tensed around him, almost always managing to avoid any sort of physical or emotional connection, Susan brushing it off as Max just missing her father, but Billy knew it was more than that. This misunderstanding made it all the sadder when Susan struggled to engage her daughter in any conversation besides How was school? and Fine. Neil might have been one of the worst parents in the world, but Susan wasn't far behind. Maybe she'd been a little more reliable before marrying Neil, maybe she'd paid more attention to Maxine when it was just the two of them, but he doubted it. Maybe Susan was dedicated to playing the doting wife and mother to appease Neil, but Billy saw right through her bullshit; Susan didn't have a maternal bone in her body, and despite Neil lacking any sense of fatherly affection, he knew his father would divorce the bitch as soon as her mask slipped.
It sucked for Maxine, but Billy knew her better than her own mother. Billy knew her better than anyone. Billy knew her obsession with Doritos and Cheez Balls. He knew she was secretly a math whiz, though she'd keep that secret to her grave; she might be okay hanging out with nerds and geeks, but she didn't want to be one of them. He also knew that she forged Susan's signature on all her failed science tests, but who could blame her for that? When was Max going to need to know anything about wormholes anyway? God forbid their stupid school actually taught them something useful. Billy even knew the names of all her little friends, if only to keep tabs on them. But anyone could know these things about Maxine if they paid attention. His favorite things he knew about her were secrets between them. Things about his little sister that no one else knew. Not her mother. Not her scrawny crew. Just Billy.
Like the fact that she still wore day-of-the-week underwear, religiously adhering to the fading text, the pastel fabric revealing just how wet she was for him each night he snuck into her room once Neil passed out on the couch and Susan downed a handful of pills to "help her sleep." Or that the sparse curls crowning her sex were darker than the hair on her head, more auburn than copper, and that the color of her pebbled nipples was a smidgen redder than her constantly chapped lips. Billy was damn certain that no one else knew the soft moans Max made as his tongue lapped her sex and the little gasps she made when he sank inside her. Maybe the secret he held most dearly was the ring of red circling his cock the first night he dared to touch her. Neil and Susan were out of town on yet another childless vacation, leaving Billy officially in charge of his little sister, an opportunity that couldn't have fallen more perfectly into his lap. She hadn't even noticed the powder he'd slipped into her Coke, too preoccupied with collecting every morsel of salt in the greasy container that moments ago was filled to the brim with fries that were now in her belly.
It was glorious. Addicting. The sweet, tangy smell of her cunt swirling around them. Her delicious whimpers and mewls filling his ears. The way her needy pussy milked his cock, tighter and juicier than any girl he'd fucked before. He loved the feel of her warm, bare skin against his. Loved the way her eyes scrunched and her little mouth formed a perfect 'O' as she came. Loved the sight of her pretty, pink cunt filled with his cum.
After the first time, he'd tried to stay away. He knew it was "wrong." Knew that he wasn't supposed to fuck his step-sister even though they weren't blood-related. Knew Neil and Susan would be pissed if they ever found out. Knew Max would be even more pissed if she ever found out. Still, Billy was only a man. What virile young man could deny himself a perfect pussy when it was just down the hall, ripe for the picking? Was it really so surprising that he found himself cracking Max's door just wide enough for him to creep in each night?
Over time, he'd learned that she was such a deep sleeper he didn't need to sneak anything in her food or drinks to keep her unconscious. No noise nor sensation seemed to rouse her, but there was so much at stake, he always opted to slip her something anyway. It was for the best, but it didn't stop him from wanting to see her baby blue eyes looking up at him, or wanting to hear his name fall from her lips, or wanting to feel her hands in his hair as he brought her to peaks of pleasure that would ruin her for any other man.
Tonight unfolded like any other. Billy'd made it home mere seconds before curfew, narrowly avoiding a slap upside the head and flashing Max a smirk as Neil's scowl deepened. Her wavy hair was shower-damp, darker from the saturation, and he had to force himself to avoid looking at the wet splotches forming on her breasts, the white fabric threatening to reveal the reddish nipples he loved so much.
Neil seemed to be facing the same dilemma. "Throw a damn sweatshirt on or go to bed, Maxine. Wear whatever you want in your room, I don't fucking care, but you're going to show some class when you're walking around my house, you understand?"
Billy's eyes trailed the bob of her throat as she swallowed and nodded.
"What do you say?" Neil snarled.
"Yes, sir," Max choked before running out of the room and slamming her door.
"Fucking bitch," his father growled, and Billy had to force himself not to slam him into a wall. Neil raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Goddamn cunt," he agreed. "Not her fault, Susan didn't raise her right, but hell if she doesn't need to learn some manners."
"That's for fucking sure," Neil agreed. "But you'll keep my wife's name out of your goddamn mouth if you know what's good for you."
"Yes, sir," Billy said through clenched teeth before Neil drained his beer and they both retired to their rooms. He tamped his smile as he walked past Max's room, noting her light was already off and the faint whispers of snores singing a siren song.
Billy waited an hour, each minute crawling slower than a snail, before easing his door open and padding down the hall. Max's door used to creak, but he'd taken the initiative to grease the hinges months ago under the guise of simply taking care of the house. His father and Max gave him strange looks, but Susan's gratitude outshone their suspicious glances, her enthusiasm quelling Neil's suspicions and Max forgetting hers soon enough.
Her window was open, the last wisps of summer still warm kisses on their skin. Max was going to hate midwestern winters. She was always cold. Could barely handle 70 and sunny without a long-sleeved shirt or jacket of some sort. He made a note to put a spare sweatshirt in the Camaro. She'd look real cute with his sweatshirt dwarfing her slight frame, coming down to her knees with the sleeves cuffed a few times. He could get used to a sight like that.
Billy added the color of her bedsheets to his collection of secrets. No one would believe that the rough and grumble skate park rat, Max Mayfield, slept on pretty pink sheets dotted with rosebuds. Everyone knew Maxine despised pink. Billy, however, knew she kept these bedsheets because they used to belong to her grandmother, and he knew she slept with a small stuffed fox her father got her before he split.
Max was curled on her side, her small stuffed fox tucked into the crook of her arm, and a puddle of drool pooling on her pillow. Her hair was still damp, and he could smell the sweet citrus of her shampoo as he slipped under the covers, curling his body around hers. Max might have kept her body hidden under baggy t-shirts and jeans at school, but her thin pajama top and shorts left almost nothing to his imagination. He'd been hard when he left his room, but now, his cock was straining against his boxers, a wet splotch staining the fly. His cock nestled against Max's athletic ass, his hips rocking into hers as his hand slipped under her shirt to palm one of her tiny tits, still too flat for the training bras she insisted on wearing anyway. Billy peppered kisses along her neck, lightly nipping at her pulse point, careful not to leave a mark on her delicate skin. He loved holding her in his arms, loved the rare, gentle side that only Max could bring out of him. Some days she brought out the absolute worst of him, but he was at his best with her each night. She was so warm and small, all svelte limbs and lean muscle. His hand was larger than her stomach, his long fingers dancing along her hip before tugging down her shorts and pulling the damp gusset of her underwear to the side. Teasing her small slit, he ghosted her slick folds, featherlight pressure on the sensitive pink skin, his fingertips grazing her puffy clit without pausing to focus on the needy bud long enough to drive her wild, perspiration forming at her hairline and her hips clumsily bucking into his hand, her white-knuckled fingers clutching her little fox. Max whined, his other hand moving to clamp her mouth before she woke their parents. Cmon, weren't they old enough to have a little fun?
Mercifully, Billy slid a long finger into her warm, wet pussy with a groan that he muffled into her bare shoulder. He thrust his finger in time with his hips, his cock twitching with jealousy. The angle was awkward, and he had a feeling his elbow would be sore tomorrow, but he managed to twist his arm to thumb her clit as he fingered her, adding another finger to better stretch her for his cock. He didn't want to hurt her pretty, little pussy too much. It was a relief when she mewled against his hand seconds later, her legs trapping his other wrist between them, her cunt fluttering against his fingers. Billy flipped them around so Max was on her back, and he was slotted between her legs, his thick cock pressing into a slim thigh. He couldn't resist a quick kiss, even though he usually abstained because it always seemed to make her stir, and he did not want to deal with the shitstorm that would occur if Max woke up with her tits out and shorts down with her shirtless, boxer-clad brother lying on top of her. Despite his best efforts to retreat, one quick kiss turned into two, then three, and before he knew it, his hands were buried in her hair, and his tongue was in her mouth.
He was lucky Max was such a deep sleeper. He swore she could sleep through a simultaneous earthquake and tornado and wake up well-rested and unscathed. He thanked his lucky stars she slept through that kiss, that glorious, delicious kiss, and the shaking of the mattress as he yanked back and stopped. Her lips were swollen, and it took everything in him to resist dipping his head to hers again. Besides, he had another idea.
Billy slithered down the mattress so his head was between her thighs. The succulent scent of her cunt was enough to make his mouth water. Max had to have the prettiest pussy in Hawkins or California, if not the whole world. He loved that he was the only one who knew the watercolor mosaic of pinks at her sex. He loved that he was the only person who knew how she tasted and what her thighs felt like clamped around his head.
And god help him, she tasted like he'd died and gone to heaven. He'd happily suffocate at the apex of her thighs, and he sure as hell hoped that the afterlife was just the same. With the flat of his tongue, he licked a strip from her tight slit to her sensitive clit, feeling her melt into his touch, her head lolling to one side as her back arched. Billy carefully slung her legs over his shoulders, continuing to lap at her glossy folds, licking up her sweet slick as her soft sounds flitted in the air. "Quiet, baby," he murmured into her cunt. "Don't want to make your momma. Don't think she'd be too happy to find your step-brother's head between your thighs." He wasn't sure how it worked, but her subconscious obeyed him a hell of a lot more than she did wide awake. Her voice quieted, but cute coos continued to escape her, though with less frequency than before. When he moved out after graduation, he'd have to figure out a way to get Max to sleep over. Neil and Susan couldn't object to a little sibling bonding, though he knew it'd take some convincing to get the three of them to agree to his little plan. With just Max and him in an apartment, she could be as loud as she wanted. Neighbors be damned. His cock threatened to spill in his underwear at the thought.
Billy turned his attention to the feast before him instead, his tongue continuing to tease her opening and expertly circle her clit until she was whimpering. He prolonged the peak as long as possible before gliding two fingers inside her messy cunt and crooking them along her front wall. He threw a pillow over her face to muffle her cries; it wasn't the best method, but he didn't have any other ideas. It was hard to think of better solutions when all the blood in his body was throbbing in his fat cock. He licked her through her orgasm, pressing wet kisses to the pale skin along her inner thighs as she shivered, a dusting of goosepimples adorning her skin. He kept control and only kissed her gently once before shedding his boxers somewhere on the floor, though he couldn't resist another quick kiss before kneeling back and admiring her moonlit frame. He'd never get tired of the view of her underneath him. When he was alone in his room or hogging their shared shower, he pictured them in different positions, Max on top of him, slowly lowering herself on his cock, her hands on her breasts, or Max on her hands and knees, her ass jiggling with each thrust, or Max on her knees licking his swollen cockhead because her mouth was still too small to fit it.
He tossed the pillow to the side to see her sex-flushed skin, dragging the blunt tip of his cock through her glossy folds with his other hand, teasing her sweet cunt just like he had with his fingers and tongue. Despite her two previous orgasms, her pussy was still begging him for more, her thighs bunny-twitching as she tried to increase the friction, a small frown quirking her lips. He was sure that if she were awake, she'd curse him out for teasing her so much, but he luckily didn't have to quiet her complaints. In his fantasies, Max was always awake. Begging him to stop teasing her and fuck her already. Protesting that he wouldn't fit. Begging him to stop.
The roster of girls he'd fucked before would probably be shocked that the king of Hawkins could be a gentleman sometimes, he thought as a long trail of spit landed on his cock, further slicking their skin so his thick dick hurt Max as little as possible. She could piss him off to high hell, but he was still protective of her. It's what big brothers do. Billy palmed himself, coating every inch of his veiny cock with his spit, wishing it were Max's saliva instead. Sufficiently slicked, Billy eased two fingers into her cunt again, scissoring them so she would be ready for him and tweaking one hardened nipple with his other hand. He shifted her legs wider to accept him, one hand steady on her hip as he notched himself at her opening with the other.
"Ready, baby," Billy crooned, pressing the tip of his cock into her tight slit. "That's it, sis. You can take me. You always fit me, don't you, baby? Can always fit your brother's big cock in your cunt. You know that's what little sisters are for." His hips eased back before slowly pressing back in, pressing slightly deeper and repeating, gently forcing her warm, pink hole to accept him. No matter how much he stretched her with his fingers, it never seemed to be enough. Maybe it would be better when she got a little bigger, though Billy knew he'd miss her being this cute and innocent, still a girl growing into a woman. Most women he knew seemed to be sullen cunts and killjoys with massive sticks up their asses, like that stuck-up bitch Nancy Wheeler and her slutty mother, who was just the same save for hiding it better. Billy wouldn't let Max grow into a woman like that. Billy'd shape her into something proper, something he'd like, just as he carved and built a jewelry box for Max in woodworking. She rarely wore jewelry, but that didn't stop Susan from gifting it to her on every birthday and Christmas.
Inch by inch, he worked his cock into her until his hips kissed hers and he spied the bulge of his cockhead through her belly. Keeping a calm pace, careful not to shake the bed enough to wake his family, he steadied into a soft rhythm, pulling back until only the tip of his cock remained inside her, his hips grazing hers with each inward thrust. Even going slow, her wet pussy squished as he fucked her, a sound better than any music Billy blasted in the Camaro. His perfect girl began to meet his pumps, her hips rising to meet his, her hands fisting her pretty, pink sheets.
He couldn't bite back his moan as his thumb found her clit, gently circling the hard bud and leisurely increasing the pace and pressure until she was shaking beneath him and he decided to swallow her weak cries with his mouth, surprising himself with his restraint even though he wanted nothing more than to devour little red riding hood like the big, bad wolf he was. Once Max quieted, he chucked the pillow aside, drinking in her beauty, her skin like a porcelain doll, her hair fiery like the sun. Her cunt was still spasming around him when heat centered at his spine and his cock began to pulse, thick, white cum filling her womb. As far as he knew, Max hadn't gotten her period yet. He hadn't noticed any bloody wads in the trash cans or monthly chocolate cravings. Billy knew he was playing with fire, but he didn't think it would be too bad if they had a little Max or Billy running around one day. It was hard to think of much else with how pretty she looked with her tank top scrunched above her breasts and his cock plugging her cunt.
She never looked more beautiful than this. The flush of orgasm coloring her cheeks, her radiant hair glowing in the pale moonlight, his seed leaking around his cock and painting her pretty pussy. Billy let his softening cock slip from her wet warmth. He carefully scooped the creamy fluid onto two fingers and redeposited it into her, chuckling as she needily bucked into him. Insatiable and untamed. He wouldn't have his girl any other way.
In a few months, he'd be eighteen and could finally get out of this fucking house. He ought to take Max with him. Save her from this hellish house of burnt casseroles and beer bottles littering every surface. Besides, he'd need someone to keep his house clean and his stomach full. God, he hoped Max was a better cook than her mother was. Hell, he'd love her anyway, but they'd sure save a lot on takeout pizza and fast food burgers if his sister could manage to make a meatloaf or pot roast that didn't taste like cardboard and charcoal.
It was hard to find his boxers in the dark, but he managed, tugging them over his hips, his sticky-slick cock drying like glue. It wasn't any easier to redress Max; somehow it was much more difficult to pull her underwear and shorts up than down. Billy reasoned that everything seemed easier with good pussy on the horizon. After more attempts than he'd like to admit, he felt the clothes were positioned well enough that a night of tossing and turning could have reasonably tussled them so.
Billy pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled the covers over her, turning her back onto her side and sliding the fox into the crook of her arm again. Besides the evidence wetting her panties, it was like he'd never disturbed her slumber. He paused at the door, straining to hear any footsteps or Neil or Susan padding to the bathroom or the kitchen for a glass of water. Save for Max's light snore resuming, the house was silent. It could have been a trick of the light, but Billy could have sworn Max smiled back at him as he slipped out of her room.
"Good night, Billy," Max mumbled back, barely loud enough for him to hear.
"Goodnight, baby," he whispered. "Sleep tight."