Emily ass was a miracle of physics. A perfect, firm, yet yielding handful of flesh that fit my palm as if it had been sculpted for it. The rough texture of the denim under my fingers only heightened the sensation of the incredible softness beneath.
I squeezed again, not hard, but with a deliberate possessiveness that sent a jolt straight through me. This wasn't an accidental brush; this was a claim from me to her. And her reaction—the gasp, the frantic heartbeat, the way she melted into me instead of pulling away—was a permission slip written in the language of the body. The hug had officially left the realm of sibling reconciliation and had crossed into something else entirely.
Something old, familiar, and electrifyingly new all at once. The narrow hallway seemed to shrink, the walls closing in until the entire universe was reduced to the feel of her body against mine, the sound of our ragged breathing, and the vanilla-sweet scent of her hair filling my lungs.
My blood was singing, a hot, insistent rhythm pounding in my ears. Emboldened by her acceptance, driven by a hunger that felt both new and ancient, my left hand, which had been resting on the small of her back, began to move. It slid around her side, my fingers tracing the incredible dip of her waist, the smooth, warm skin of her toned stomach a tantalizing preview.
My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the steady, thrilling thrum of her own. I could feel the heat radiating from her, a furnace stoked by the same confusing, potent mix of past intimacy and present taboo.
My hand continued its journey, sliding upward, over the tight crop top, and finally, carefully, cupping the magnificent, gravity-defying curve of her right breast from the side. The effect was instantaneous and electric.
"Ahh~ mmm…". Emily's entire body went rigid for a split second—not in rejection, but in a shockwave of pure sensation. A sharp, stifled moan vibrated against my neck where her face was buried.
Her fingers, laced behind my head, clenched, tangling in my hair. The sheer size of her breast was astounding; even from the side, the soft, heavy weight of it spilled over my hand, the side of it pressing against my neck and shoulder. I could feel the firm peak of her nipple, even through the fabric of her top, it was hardening against my palm.
I held my breath. Had I gone too far? Crossed a line that, even in this world, couldn't be uncrossed?
Slowly, she pulled her head back from my neck. Her face was flushed a deep, beautiful crimson, her pupils blown wide so that only a thin ring of blue remained around them. Her lips were parted, glistening and slightly swollen from being pressed against my skin. She looked down at my hand, still cupping her breast, then her glassy, dazed eyes lifted to meet mine. There was no anger there. No reproach. Only a deep, stunned, and unmistakable hunger that mirrored my own.
The tension was palpable, humming and dangerous. I needed to break it, to give us both an escape hatch if we needed it. I didn't move my hand. Instead, I managed a shaky, lopsided grin. My voice, when it came out, was husky, strained with desire.
"Did… did these babies, get even bigger?" I asked, giving the impossibly soft flesh a gentle, exploratory squeeze.
The question, so absurdly mundane in the midst of our charged standoff, did the trick. A laugh, breathy and nervous, escaped her lips. She blushed even deeper, if that was possible, and looked down shyly.
"Yeah,". she murmured, her voice a soft, embarrassed whisper.
"A size bigger, I think. It's… normal, I guess. I'm still getting older.". She paused, then her eyes flicked back up to mine, filled with a vulnerable hope that made my chest ache.
"Do you… like them?". she asked, her voice even smaller. "Is it… weird?". The earnestness of the question, the need for my approval, shattered the last of my hesitation.
"Weird?" I breathed out, my thumb gently stroking the side of her breast through the fabric.
"Emily, they're incredible… They're perfect… I love them." The words were true. In that moment, they were the truest thing I'd ever said.
The radiant smile that spread across her face was worth every second of the old Sael's bullshit. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated joy and relief. Emboldened by my response, she took a leap of faith that left me reeling.
"If you want…" she began, her voice gaining a little strength, though a nervous tremor still ran through it.
"You can… you can come play with them again sometime. Like… like old times." She held my gaze, her meaning crystal clear. It wasn't just an offer of forgiveness; it was an offer of reinstatement. A return to the intimacy he had thrown away.
The heat in my gut coiled tighter. "I'd love that," I said, my voice dropping to a low growl. The memory of my mouth on her, from the flashback, surged to the forefront of my mind. I pushed my luck, adding a joke to keep the mood from getting too heavy, to give her an out.
"If there's milk in them, I'd love it even more.". I expected her to laugh, to playfully swat my arm, to call me a pervert in a teasing tone.
She didn't. Instead, a mischievous, shy, and utterly devastating look crossed her features. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling with a boldness I hadn't seen in her before.
"If you want that…" she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I can get pills for that..."
"Huh?". I blinked. The world tilted on its axis.
"What?" The word came out as a stunned exhale. I was sure I'd misheard.
"There are pills," she repeated, a little more confidently now, enjoying my shock.
"Pills that can make me lactate. Without being pregnant. I can just… start producing milk. If you want me to….do you?"
"Whoa. Really? there's a pill for that?". My mind went completely, utterly blank.
The sheer, audacious, world-altering implications of that statement short-circuited every thought process. My hand fell away from her breast, hanging limply at my side. I just stared at her, my mouth slightly agape. This world. This insane, beautiful, hedonistic world. She saw my speechless shock and giggled, a sweet, musical sound that broke the last of the tension.
"Yep, it's a thing… you know, there is a medicine for just about anything…". She shrugged, as if discussing the weather.
"People have all kinds of… preferences. So, there's a pill for it. It's a bit pricey, but… yeah…". We both stood there for a moment, the insane shift in conversation hanging between us.
Then, a laugh bubbled up from deep within me—a real, incredulous, slightly hysterical laugh of pure wonder. She joined in, her laughter mixing with mine, filling the narrow hallway with a sound that had probably been absent for years.
We were laughing at the absurdity, at the sheer unexpected turn of the conversation, at the thrilling, terrifying new reality we were stepping into.
As our laughter slowly died down, leaving us breathless and smiling, the air changed again. The humor faded, replaced by a thick, palpable heat. The promise hanging between us was no longer a joke. It was a real, tangible possibility. Her eyes met mine, and the look in them was clear. Certain. Without another word, she leaned in. She was slightly taller than me, so she had to bend her head just a little. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she pressed her lips to mine.
"Smack…Smack... Mmmwah… Mmmwah...". It wasn't a hesitant, exploratory kiss. It was deep and hungry from the start, a reclaiming of lost time. Her lips were incredibly soft, and she tasted of mint and the vanilla from her lip gloss.
"Slllrrppp~ hah~ Mmmhmmm~".
Her tongue met mine with a boldness that surprised me, and I responded in kind, my hands coming up to cradle her face, my thumbs stroking her burning cheeks. The sound of our kissing, soft and wet, was the only sound in the world. I could feel the thrilling pressure of her breasts crushed against my chest again.
We broke apart, both of us gasping for air. Her lips were swollen, her eyes hazy with desire.
"I'll…" she breathed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I'll get the pills later…"
The statement, so simple, so outrageous, sent another thrill through me. I grinned, a wild, possessive grin. "I can't wait," I said, my voice rough with promise.
We shared one last, long look—a universe of understanding and anticipation passing between us in the dim hall light. Then, with a shy smile that promised so much, she turned and slipped into her room, closing the door with a soft but definitive click.
I stood there alone, leaning against the wall for support, my mind reeling. The scent of her was all over me. The taste of her was on my lips. My body was thrumming with unmet need and sheer, unadulterated astonishment.
I finally pushed off the wall and stumbled the few steps to my own door, fumbling with the knob before practically falling into my room. I closed the door behind me and slid down its length to sit on the floor, my head in my hands.
"…Well, that just happened…"