It was 4:30 on a Saturday afternoon, and Molly Perkins had nothing to do. Her Mom was away on a grocery run at the moment, while her father—it still felt a little weird to call him that—was away on a business trip. With no one to interact with at home, Molly was left to her own devices.
On a typical Saturday, she'd spent most of the day in the house. Reading her books, playing video games, browsing the Internet on her phone or computer; that was how she occupied her free time on such occasions. Sometimes she'd even write, when the inspiration struck her…though that wasn't all that often, these days.
So it was no surprise that Molly was cooped up in the family living room, an open book between her hands as she nestled herself against the couch, her body pressed against the edge of the sofa. Her legs, stretched over the cushions, were bare of socks or other outerwear, and her skin devoid of any marks or blemishes that might litter a more physically active kid's body. A pair of navy blue cotton shorts clung to her waist, reaching to just above her knees, while a simple, purple t-shirt with a faded anime graphic completed her modest outfit. Her brown hair was tied up in a simple ponytail that reached down to her neck, pulled back so she wouldn't have anything obscuring or blocking her view.
All in all, not an unusual appearance for her: Molly knew she wasn't the most stylish person around, and she liked to dress simply and comfortably. She liked what she liked, even if it did earn her more than a few sharp-tongued barbs from her classmates.
At any rate, that was what Molly did on a normal Saturday, when her Mom or her father didn't drag her to something. But however much she pretended otherwise, this wasn't a normal Saturday.
It wasn't normal for one simple reason: her brother was home alone with her. He didn't have anything to do either that day, and seemed content enough to stay with her—a fact that had reassured her mother to no end, to Molly's chagrin.
But she really wished that wasn't the case, because she wanted him to be anywhere else but with her right now.
The moment she saw Marcus walk into the living room, Molly knew she should have left. She should have retreated to the comfort and safety of her bedroom, and relaxed inside. But a small part of her had resisted that urge: after all, she'd spend most of the day cooped up in her room already. She could just ignore him if she really wanted to, right?
So that's what she planned to do. And Molly managed to do just that, blocking him out entirely as he sat across from her on the couch, his bare legs just grazing her feet. She pulled back instinctively, engrossed in her book as Marcus started watching tv. The noise of it didn't bother her, her ears tuning it out as she turned the page.
It stayed that way for a good ten minutes, neither of them speaking a word to each other. That was just fine with Molly, and she would have been happy saying nothing at all if it meant she could read in peace.
Then came the sudden sound of rustling clothes as she felt Marcus stand up before quickly sitting back down. And Molly knew , with an all too familiar certainty, just what her brother was doing.
Her stomach dropped and her grip on her book tightened, her breath hitching slightly as she started to hear a certain sound. Her eyes instinctively darted up to look over at her brother, and her eyes were met with the sight of Marcus's shorts and underwear now dangling from his ankles. That left him naked from the waist down, his teenage penis exposed for her to see, large and imposing to her gaze. Marcus had a single hand wrapped around it, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he shamelessly pumped his fingers up and down the slender shaft.
Then their eyes met, and Molly realized he was looking right at her, his steady gaze fixated on her body.
Molly felt a shiver go down her spine and she immediately looked away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Her breath continued to pick up, her hands now trembling slightly as an undisguised moan echoed through the room. She didn't dare look back up at Marcus, however: not while he was acting like this.
A tense few minutes of silence followed, Molly frozen in place as her older brother masturbated mere feet away from her.
She knew what he was doing, of course. Molly might be young, but she'd learned the ins and outs of sexual education last year, and Mom had given her an additional talk thereafter. She'd even searched up a video of the act out of morbid curiosity, though she hadn't gotten far into it before shutting it off in disgust.
Her knowledge didn't bring her any comfort, however. If anything, it made it worse. Molly preferred a scenario where she would have been blissfully ignorant; at least then she wouldn't be so consumed by her absolute embarrassment.
Why? Why did he have to do this out here, with her? Why didn't he even try to hide it?
These questions, and more, had plagued her through the past few weeks. For this wasn't even the first time her brother had done such an act in front of her. But each subsequent event had brought no sense of clarity. All she was left with was uncomfortable questions and unspoken truths.
Another moan from Marcus brought her back to the present, her eyes unintentionally flickering up to look at him. She immediately darted her gaze away, her discomfort only growing worse.
Molly tried to block him out again, to pretend as if he wasn't here or doing such a thing in her presence. If she ignored him, he'd eventually stop and leave her alone; or so she hoped. It was a faint belief, but she clung to it all the same, desperate for it. Maybe this time, she thought, that might actually happen.
But, no. She couldn't be that lucky.
"Is that a good book?" Marcus abruptly spoke up, his tone far too casual and light for her liking.
Molly squirmed in response, biting her lip as she stared down at her book. She'd lost her place entirely now, and couldn't even register what she'd been reading. In fact, she could sense an awkward sort of tension building up inside of her, feeling almost compelled to answer her brother's question. She knew she should just ignore him, to try and not feed into whatever… this was. That would be the wise decision here.
But she'd been raised to be nice, and Molly hated even the idea that she was being mean or impolite to someone.
"It is," she finally replied, her eyes darting back up to him.
He was leaning back against the couch now, his legs spread as far as he could allow. He'd even angled his body slightly to give her a better view of his lap, a few fingers now wrapped against his shaft. It gave her more of an unobstructed view of his penis: Molly able to see with clear, vivid detail as he tugged his foreskin up and down his twitching cock.
She made a little dismayed noise in the back of her throat and looked away, her eyes instead latching onto Marcus's face. Which gave her a clear look at the eager smirk that graced his lips.
"Cool. What's it called?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her own.
She should just go. It'd be simple, and Marcus wouldn't follow her. At least, she didn't think he would. Either way, she could retreat to her bedroom and lock the door behind her. Marcus would stop being gross if she gave him enough time, and after that, her Mom would be home. She wouldn't have to deal with a second more of this whole… thing.
But that would be rude, and she didn't want her brother to hate her. Marcus really could be nice and sweet when he wasn't acting like this. Even more than that, Molly wanted to get along with her new father, whom she liked a lot better than Marcus. But the only way to get closer to him was to get closer to her new brother.
She really wanted to like them, and she really wanted them to like her . Not many people did like her, so she needed to get whatever love she could take.
Even if it meant ignoring Marcus when he decided to be weird and gross with her.
"The Portrait of Markov," she said, her voice quiet and mousy. Barely above a whisper, but Marcus was close enough to hear her all the same. "It's a horror novel."
"Huh, that sounds cool," he replied, his smile widening.
He closed his eyes, giving a sudden sigh as his body shook slightly.
Molly again felt her eyes switch back to his penis, his fingers still gliding up and down the throbbing member. She could see that the reddened tip was wet now, a sticky substance coating most of it. Her stomach churned at this revelation and another fresh wave of discomfort assailed her. The lurid sight felt like it was being burned into her eyes, yet Molly found it hard to look away.
She felt almost transfixed, unable to fully explain or articulate why she was still staring at it. Maybe she didn't want to see just how much wider Marcus's smile was now; maybe her morbid curiosity kept her going, determined to know what would happen next.
Or maybe she knew she was getting what she deserved.
His free hand reached over, idly grazing against her shin. The sensation jerked her gaze back to his face, her body startled by the unwelcome touch.
"You're very pretty Molly," Marcus said, his fingers pressing a little harder as he kept stroking her leg. "I'm really lucky to have you as a little sister."
Oh, he was complimenting her now. Marcus only got that direct when he was… close .
That knowledge should have put her at ease, since it meant that this whole gross situation would be over soon. Yet at the same time, Molly felt a renewed sense of dread fill her body.
Indeed, she didn't have any time to respond to his compliment, as Marcus kept speaking a moment later:
"Do you want to get your shorts dirty this time?" he inquired, his eyes flickering back up to her own.
Molly couldn't help but frown at that, a small whine of protest escaping her lips. He'd started finishing on her lately, usually squirting his stuff on her shorts or her shirt. She always had to change after he did that, and it was becoming increasingly annoying.
It was also getting hard to explain. She'd managed a decent explanation for Mom about why she'd changed clothes three times in one day, but Molly didn't like her chances at giving another such plausible excuse.
"Can you not ?" she spoke up, giving him a pleading stare.
Marcus matched her gaze, a thoughtful look flashing over his face. He smiled a second later and gave a small nod.
"Okay…if you don't want to get them dirty, that's fine. You just need to take them off."
Molly blinked rapidly, not quite sure she'd heard her brother right. "Sorry?"
"Take off your shorts," Marcus repeated, still smiling over at her. "If you're not wearing them, they won't get dirty. Right?"
She stared at him, her mouth agape as a rapid flux of emotions surged through her. Her cheeks became even more flushed and red, the very idea of exposing herself like mortifying her. And yet…
It made a certain amount of sense. If Marcus was going to squirt stuff on her, it would be easier to just take those clothes off beforehand. It'd save her from having to change so often too, for that matter.
But taking off clothes meant getting down to her underwear , and she didn't want Marcus to see her like that. It was too embarrassing!
"I don't have long," he spoke up, reminding her of his presence. He stared at her with an almost expectant look, his hand still flying up and down his throbbing shaft.
Molly gave a discomforted whine, but she knew she didn't have a choice. Her body moved for her, her butt lifting off the couch for a few brief seconds as she grabbed the waistband of her cotton shorts. They slid down her legs with ease, hanging off one leg as she revealed her plain white panties to Marcus. The fabric clung to her waist, hugging her tightly: as a result, the material made a clear outline of her slit, further adding to her humiliation.
They were a little small for her, Molly knew. She'd just been lazy about upgrading to underwear that better fit her developing body. Now, though, she wished she'd done this earlier. Maybe Marcus wouldn't be looking at her so weird if they fit better.
Marcus's gaze fixated on her crotch, his breath hitching slightly as he stared. If it was possible, his hand moved even faster, flying up and down his throbbing cock at an alarming rate. Molly's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the motion, though it didn't distract her as much as she liked. She was still painfully, utterly aware of just how hard Marcus was staring, adding further heat to her cheeks as her blush intensified.
Then Marcus was kneeling between her legs, moving faster than Molly thought possible. The suddenness of it caught her off guard, her eyes widening.
Her brother, meanwhile, jerked off just above her panties, the tip of his engorged penis dangerously close to her. He was breathing hard now, his mouth hung open slightly. Molly couldn't help but watch in morbid fascination, swallowing hard as Marcus kept inching forward with his penis—
—Until, finally, he touched the tip against the cameltoe of her panties.
A jolt of something raced down Molly's spin, her hips jerking in response. She whined again and moved back from Marcus, but there wasn't much point to it by then.
Half a minute after he rubbed against her, Marcus went rigid, his entire body tensing up. Then he gave out a loud groan, pumping his fist over his shaft as fast as he could. Mere seconds later it happened: a sight that Molly was becoming all too familiar with.
Spurt after spurt of white, pearly semen came out of his tip, splashing against the cotton material of her panties. Molly flinched at the sensation, surprised at how warm his load felt; with the thicker fabric of her clothes, she'd never felt much if anything when he had cum on her. Now, however…
She could feel everything.
So Molly watched with wide, huge eyes as her brother came on her panties, rope after rope of his cum pumping out against her crotch. Each streak of white soaked into her panties, sending another shiver down her spine and a coinciding feeling of disgust as the wetness seeped against her skin. Around seven shots of Marcus's semen splashed against her, the first few spurts hitting along the outer edges of her panties before he aimed himself closer to the center of her crotch, the rest of his load making a mess against her cameltoe.
Finally, the remainder of her brother's cum dribbled out in weaker spurts, until it merely oozed out of the tip of his cock. Marcus stopped moving his hand at that point, a small sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back.
Molly, meanwhile, stared at the resulting mess he'd made on her panties. A mixture of emotions roiled through her; disgust, embarrassment, shame, even some morbid fascination. But her embarrassment was quickly winning out amongst all the others, especially when she realized that the wetness had made her panties partially transparent, giving her brother an even more intimate look at her privates.
Molly immediately closed her legs, ignoring the icky, sticky feeling that now clung to her crotch. She pulled her shorts back up over her waist and leapt off the couch, leaving her book behind as she ran from the room.
It didn't take her long at all to get to her bedroom and she shut and locked the door behind her. Afterward, she immediately stripped off her shorts again before shucking her panties off in quick order. She stared down in dismay at the stickiness that clung to her crotch, another shudder of disgust going through her. She grabbed a few tissues from her nearby box and set to work, wiping off the remaining slime that still coated her skin.
Once that was done she collapsed onto her bed, not bothering to put on new underwear; not yet, at least. Instead she curled up on her side, closing her eyes as she tried to forget everything that had just happened.
She wanted to like her brother: she really did. She knew Mom would be happy if she got along with her new family.
But why did Marcus have to be so gross?