You wonder why things you shouldn't have are so damned good. It's most likely the universe's way of screwing with you. As wrong as it is, you are hopelessly addicted to your brother's kisses and feather light touches. It's so sick and horrible, and you can't stop.

Your first kiss was a knee jerk reaction. You and your brother were on your sides, facing each other, knuckles brushing as you jerked yourselves off. You had to be quiet, as Dad was back from his hunt. He was in the next room, and the apartment had open vents between rooms. You can't get enough of this danger, this wrongness, but you still don't want to get caught. Sammy was getting close; you could hear the changes in the soft, barely there noises he makes. Your knuckles brushed again, and he made a high pitched noise. Too high. Not thinking, you closed that short distance and covered his mouth with yours. His whole body shook at the contact, and he leaned into the kiss. He came on both of your hands, still kissing you. A few short seconds later, you came. How horrible of a person does it make you that the best kiss of your life came from your little brother?

The occasional kiss while jerking off quickly turned into near constant lip contact. And right on the heels of kissing, you crossed one more boundary. You reached over and touched him. It was gentle, right on his bare hip as you both brought yourselves to completion. His skin felt electrified under your touch as you traced the outline of the bone. He shifted closer towards you, deepening the kiss you shouldn't be sharing. Before you could react, before you could stop him, his hand wrapped around your dick. His smaller hand is unsure and awkward for the briefest moment. Then it was like no other hand job you'd ever had in your life. Your hand trailed down from his hip to wrap around his dick to return the favor. He thrust his hips into your hand and mewled into your mouth. God, it was perfect.

Tonight, it's Sam's fourteenth birthday. Like usual, Dad isn't back yet. He's only two days late, so you have another two days before panic sets in. When Dad's not home, Sam doesn't sleep in his bed. He climbs into yours, whether you're already there or not. And you don't want to stop him. And right now, he's lying naked on top of the blanket, waiting for you. Your eyes run over his young, lithe body hungrily. He's mostly arms and legs right now, but you know that someday, he will be tall, lean and graceful. He smiles at you shyly, blushing slightly at displaying himself. His already hard dick gives an interested twitch, and yours does the same in your jeans.

Without thinking, you're stripping off your shirt and lying down over him. You catch his lips in a soft and needy kiss. His hands carefully press against your shoulder blades as you deepen the kiss. You brace your weight on one arm as you undo your jeans and start to pull them off. That tiny voice in the back of your head pipes up with how wrong this is, and your libido strangles that voice.

You wriggle out of your jeans, not breaking the kiss. Your baby brother uses his feet to help you with the jeans. As your dicks brush against each other, you both moan. His legs spread apart and your hips slide into the v. Slowly, you rock your hips, grinding your erection down onto his. His fingertips bite into your shoulder, causing a bit of delicious pain. You pull away quickly, making him whine. You shift further down on the bed, placing small kisses on his chest and stomach. You come face to face with his cock. His breathing is frantic, desperate, looking down at you with hooded eyes. With no finesse, you take all of it into your mouth. His whole body arches and he makes a high keening noise. You bob your head going purely on instinct and what blow jobs you've received in your life. He threads his fingers into your hair and rocks upwards. His breathy noises spur you on, and your hand finds your aching cock.

His breathing and noises change. He's getting close and you move faster. His dick swells just a fraction more and he's coming in your mouth, gasping your name. You swallow every drop of the bitter fluid in your mouth, moaning at the taste of him. Your hand moves faster on your own dick as you lick him clean. You're getting close yourself. He pants encouragements, begging you to come. You pull off his dick, moan loudly, and spill over your hand and the bed.

Fuck the difference between right and wrong, morality be damned. This feels too good to worry that you've just bought yourself a one way ticket straight to hell.