The Quarterback's Little s****r - Sex Stories

The Quarterback's Little s****r

... stuttered, "No way, we shouldn't... I mean we can't." Emily had no idea what to expect. Her daydreams had all gone so much differently. One way, she'd imagined him simply flipping her over and tugging off her bottoms. She'd never had sex before, but he could fix that in one steady stroke, and she'd wanted it so bad. In another, she'd sucked on him in the kitchen right when he came in, convincing him that she needed to do it so he could win. In all of her scenarios, even now, Emily had trouble admitting that she wanted him and hoped that he wanted her too. And now it seemed that he didn't. "I didn't mean...I just thought that you might need it." she said, trailing off, disheartened, into a whisper. Brad didn't know what to say to her. He was struggling not to let the image of his little s****r being on top of him in a much different way enter his mind. He worried that she could feel him stiffening through his shorts, that he would send her a different message when he needed to be simply saying no. "I'm sorry," Emily said quietly, "I wasn't thinking, it was stupid." There was this long exchange where the two of them looked into each other's eyes. In a moment that should have been uncomfortable or strange, there was a connection that they made which shouldn't have been there after Brad's reaction. Emily could feel that Brad was trying to do the right thing. She hadn't fully thought through what she was asking of him. Once again she was being unfair. "I'm gonna shower before mom ...

... and dad get home," she said after not too long, "wanna eat all of that pie mom left in the fridge before they do?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. Brad smiled sideways, "I'll have it ready when you get back," With that, Emily lifted herself off her b*****r, not sure whether to be disappointed or glad that they hadn't crossed a very unsteady line. She scampered up the stairs, not wanting to look back at her b*****r and give away that she wished he'd chosen differently, that she didn't just want to help, she wanted him. Brad lay his head back in the same spot on the carpet. What was he thinking? He wanted her... he wanted Emily so badly. He'd spent countless nights leading up to that either falling asl**p thinking about her, or dreaming of her in ways he'd feel guilty for in the morning. He'd wanted to see her naked little body, put his hands on the breasts that were incredibly generous for her frame, hold her hips as he discovered how tight she was... Now she was offering him a free pass, and he was just going to turn it down? And he knew that she had been so disappointed; that was the worst part. He kept seeing her face when he'd first said no: it had changed immediately from one of apprehension and hopefulness to complete embarrassment. How could he do that to her. She just wanted to help! He had to smooth things over at the very least. Brad didn't know how long he lay there, but eventually he built up the courage to talk to her and practically ran up the stairs. He ...