Voyeur’s Forbidden Flame

When I moved to Seattle for grad school, I stayed with my older brother, who lived with his wife, Lily, in a cozy Craftsman house near the university. Lily was magnetic – her laugh could light up a room, and she had this effortless grace, with curves that seemed sculpted to distract. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but it was the way she moved, hips swaying just so, that made it hard to look away.

One rainy night, I woke to strange sounds echoing through the house. Barefoot, I padded down the hall, drawn to a faint glow spilling from my brother’s bedroom. The door was cracked open, and curiosity got the better of me. I peered inside, my breath catching. A dim lamp illuminated the room, casting shadows over Lily, who was on all fours, her body rocking as my brother moved behind her, their rhythm primal and intense. Her soft moans filled the air, each one syncing with his thrusts.

My heart pounded, and I stood frozen, unable to tear my eyes away. Heat surged through me, and my hand instinctively wandered, mirroring the intensity before me. Then my brother’s hand met her skin with a sharp smack, and he let out a low growl, his body shuddering. Lily shifted, turning to take him into her mouth, her movements slow and deliberate. For a fleeting moment, her gaze flicked toward the door – I ducked back, pulse racing, unsure if I’d been caught.

The next morning, Lily brought me coffee at dawn, her usual routine. I was still groggy, no classes until the afternoon since my seminar didn’t start until 3 p.m. Around 9 a.m., she returned with another mug, this time wearing a silk robe that clung to her like a second skin, sheer enough to reveal every curve. She slid onto my bed, nudging me over, and said, “So, last night – did you like what you saw?”

I played it cool. “What do you mean?”

She leaned closer, her voice teasing. “Don’t pretend. I caught you watching us – me and your brother.”

“I was out cold all night,” I said, dodging.

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Sure you were. I saw you when I turned to… finish him off.”

I gave in, my guard dropping. “Alright, fine. It was hot – the way you moved, the way you took him.”

Her eyes gleamed, and she shifted, her back to me now, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her. She’d climbed into my bed before, but it was always casual, platonic – until now. Emboldened, I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against me so she could feel my arousal. My lips found her neck, tracing soft kisses along her skin, then grazing her earlobe with my teeth. She pressed back, her hips rolling subtly, urging me on. I kissed lower, along her spine, then back up, whispering against her ear as her breath hitched.

She turned to face me, and our eyes locked – then our mouths crashed together, tongues dancing in a hungry, desperate tangle. The kiss deepened, all heat and need, as I slid a finger between her lips. She sucked it slowly, her gaze never wavering, and I moved to her chest, kissing one breast, then the other, teasing her nipples with gentle flicks of my tongue. I wet two fingers in my mouth, then trailed them down, slipping them inside her warmth. She gasped, her body arching as I moved slowly, exploring her depths with a steady rhythm, feeling her tighten around me.

Our kisses grew frantic, and I slid lower, my lips brushing her stomach, pausing to swirl my tongue in her navel. When I reached her core, I inhaled her scent – musky, intoxicating – and let my tongue glide over her, tasting her sweetness. I teased her folds, then plunged deeper, my tongue stroking inside her as my fingers resumed their slow, deliberate dance. I found her clit, circling it with soft licks before sucking gently, increasing the pressure as her hips bucked. My fingers moved faster now, curling just right, and her moans grew louder, her hands gripping the sheets as she fought to stay quiet.

Her body tensed, trembling, and with a stifled cry – “Oh, god” – she came, her release warm and abundant. I savored it, lapping gently, letting the taste linger on my tongue. Climbing back to her mouth, I kissed her deeply, sharing her essence as our tongues intertwined. “Taste how good you are,” I murmured, and she moaned into the kiss, pulling me closer.

“Now,” she whispered, her voice raw with want. I positioned myself, my arousal throbbing, and entered her slowly, savoring the way she enveloped me, tight and warm. Each inch was deliberate, her breath hitching as I filled her. We found a rhythm – deep, unhurried thrusts, my hands gripping her hips as she met me move for move. “Harder,” she urged, her nails digging into my back. I obliged, driving deeper, the bed creaking beneath us as our pace quickened. Her moans became pleas – “Yes, like that, don’t stop” – and after what felt like an eternity of building heat, we shattered together. Her walls pulsed around me as I spilled into her, wave after wave, our bodies trembling in unison.

I stayed inside her, softening, until she shifted, her lips wrapping around me, drawing out every last shudder with slow, deliberate sucks. She lingered, teasing with her tongue until I was spent, then curled against me. I kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her hair, and we drifted into a hazy sleep, tangled in each other.