J. S. Bradley

Raped by brother

CHAPTER ONE

Monica Sanderhoff walked barefoot over the springy runners of St. Augustine grass toward the edge of the big yard. She paused in front of the bougainvillea arbor that nearly concealed the presence of the high school wall behind it.

She wore her white bikini. The little triangles of clinging material snugged against the weight of her full tits, holding the ripe balls of flesh high and wide and letting the rubbery bumps of her nipples show plainly.

The panties were molded around her firm, rounded asscheeks and smooth flanks. They were damp from her dip in the Gulf just a few moments ago, and the material dipped into her deep asscrack. It pulled snugly at the lips of her puffy, virginal pussy, and the sensations against her cunt as she walked made the dampness at her crotch increase shamefully.

A sexual throb went through her flat tummy at the thought of what she was about to do, just the way it always happened, and she felt another charge of warm, slippery cunt honey seep from her pussy mouth into the crotchband.

She shivered slightly and stopped in front of the arbor, hugging her breasts in a furtive way. She turned around and shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun, which was over the Gulf now. She held small pruning scissors in her hand, and it should be clear to anyone watching that she'd come to clip some of the bougainvillea blooms.

The stucco wall at the edge of the yard went in a straight line toward the Gulf. It became a nearly solid barrier of thick timbers bolted to treated pilings driven solidly into the beach.

The massive jetty reached nearly two hundred yards into the shallow water. It provided a perch for pelicans and seagulls, a haven for small fish, a barrier to beach erosion, and an effective deterrent to anyone who tried to enter within the limits of her grandfather's estate.

The other side of the large yard was also wailed. The front was walled against the quiet street. There was a gate of iron grillwork across the driveway, but the little guardhouse to the side was unoccupied, now that the lock and the motors that opened the gate were operated by remote control.

The grounds were immaculate and planted with lush islands of palms and tropical exotics. One island made a visual barrier between the street and the entire interior of the Sanderhoff estate.

The straight lines of the stucco walls were cleverly camouflaged by the sinuous borders of the thick tropical growth. The atmosphere of insulation from the outside world was complete – except for the open stretch of beach on the Gulf, where passing boaters could gape and gawk into the private domain of long-retired oil magnate, Galt Sanderhoff.

Monica stood erectly in the slanting rays of the sun. Her smooth skin was tanned to a golden toast. Her auburn hair was sun-bleached and showed hints of coppery highlights.

Her lips were full and sensual, her cheekbones high, her eyes large and of a startling indigo. When she posed in front of the mirror at a certain angle, she looked just like the pictures of her mother, even though Monica was only fifteen and the pictures had been taken eleven years ago, the month before her mother was murdered.

Monica let her eyes scan over the big yard and the big house. She searched the veranda, the perimeter of the building and the triple garage to the side. She searched each window, but she saw no one watching her, keeping guard over her.

Just in case, however, she began clipping blooms from the showy vine and laying them in the grass. When she had entered into the screen of growth far enough to feel hidden, she dropped the pruning scissors into the sandy soil and squirmed fully behind the cover of the dense foliage.

She looked straight up along the massive solidity of the eight-foot wall and felt her heart begin pounding again. A rush of tingling heat swept through her and made the tips of her tits tingle and throb inside her halter.

She felt her pussy lips swell and pulse and grow fatter inside her panties. She could feel the whole length of her silky, virginal pussy tunnel squirm and writhe wetly. She pressed the soft length of her full body against the coolness of the stucco and let out a small moan.

The breathtaking tingles were getting worse and worse. It was as if some dread force had crept into her being and was taking control of her.

It made her do irrational, unheard-of things, such as she was about to do now. It made her feel emotions she knew in some way that her grandfather was quietly in fear of. And she knew the strange, scary, wondrous sensations rippling through her young body were responsible for the way he'd practically tripled the guard over her in the past year.

She wasn't exactly sure why she wasn't allowed away from the estate except to go to school. She had the feeling the restrictions had something to do with the way her mother had been murdered so long ago, but she didn't even know the full story of that, yet.

Whit knew, but he wouldn't tell her. Her brother was a brat. A trouble-making, nineteen-year-old brat. He got to go out alone. He even had his own car to drive around.

One of them took her everywhere. She wasn't allowed to go from the estate with Christine, even – Chester's wife, who did the cooking and cleaning and who had become her surrogate mother over the years.

Always one of the men. Sometimes Whit, but only in the daytime with him, and only after very close questioning by their grandfather, which always made Whit rant around like a brat and back-talk the old man in a way she wouldn't dare do.

The hassle they had to go through to get permission to go to a movie or somewhere just wasn't worth it any more, and she hadn't been out with Whit for a long time.

She'd thought of rebelling and carrying on the way Whit did. But that wasn't her. And she felt it wouldn't do any good anyway – because she was a girl. She knew in her heart that was part of the reason Whit had some freedom and she had none, that it wasn't all just because of the difference in their ages.

She was a girl, all right. The throbbing in her firm breasts and the tingling of her leaking pussy told her that.

The way Burke Hammond looked at her in school told her that, too.

Monica closed her eyes and drew forth an image of him. He had sandy hair, a good build, a tanned, outdoorsy way about him that was clean and good. When he smiled at her and talked to hem she felt as if she would melt all over, and she'd have to change her panties when she got home because of the slippery wetness that leaked from her thrilled pussy.

She moaned softly again and cupped her twat tightly with her hand, feeling it throb and tinge unbearably. Then she heard a soft whistle come over the stucco wall, and her heard pounded like a jackhammer.

She whistled back, softly and furtively, and she nearly leaped onto the arbor, curling her toes around the cypress, strips, climbing it swiftly. Her round buttocks flattened and slid against the wall as she went up and turned and bellied cautiously over the top of the wall, and her full tits nearly spilled from the halter.

She looked down and saw him standing there behind a thick clump of big-leaved seagrapes. He smiled in his handsome way and lifted his arms, urging her over the wall.

Monica scanned the vacant lot first. Louis sometimes cleaned up the vegetative litter, and it would never do to have him see her escaping the estate this way.

There was a waving stand of sea oats at the high tide mark, solitary palms curving gracefully against the Gulf and sky. There were dense clumps of seagrapes, palmettos, sturdy hibiscus shrubs, and feathery Australian pines. There were No Trespassing signs on the fences facing the street to discourage bathers, but they were not totally effective. Her grandfather owned this lot and the one on the other side of the mansion. He'd bought them long ago to keep anyone from building next to him.

Satisfied that the lot was empty, she glanced toward the street. From her high vantage point, she could see Burke's four-wheel pickup nosed into the bushes down the street.

She looked down at him again and smiled back happily. She didn't know why she felt so excited and tingly. Was it Burke Hammond who made her heart flutter and her pussy twitch damply, or was it the forbidden act of sneaking out – to see a boy?

She didn't care any more. She gave a final push and swung a trim leg up and over, feeling her pussy spread wide. With her front to the wall, she began lowering herself. She felt his hands on her thighs, strong and firm, as he helped her down.

Her breasts scraped along the wall, and the nipples burned inside the thin cups. His hands shifted to her asscheeks, and she gasped with the sensation as her weight bore against his open, cupping palms.

A thumb went between her thighs as she wriggled down the wall. It slipped into her deep, soft asscrack and then lodged right under her crotch.

"Ohhhhh, Burke…" she gasped.

"I've got you, Monica – come on, let go, I've got you," he puffed, planting his feet firmly, resting the side of his face against her firm buttock.

Monica glanced down her front. She saw his thumb sticking out from between her thighs like a short prick. She felt the way it pushed the material of her bikini right into the sweet, slippery gap between her pussy lips.

The sensation was unbelievable. She felt her whole belly surge with warmth and squirming. She felt as if she could just squeeze her thighs together tightly around his thumb and wriggle her ass in his hands until something wonderful happened.

She slid down the wall. Her halter caught on a small protrusion of stucco, and she felt it lifting away from the bottoms of her tits.

When the sand gave way under Burke's foot, she came down quickly. His hands slid up over her hips, pulling her bottoms terribly tight around her asscheeks and pussy lips. The halter lifted off her tits and made them spill free, and then his hands were cupping them tightly as they staggered together to keep from falling over.

"It's okay, I've got you now!" he cried softly.

"Gee, I must have slipped or something, Monica, I'm sorry."

She felt his hands against her tits. She felt her naked back against his naked chest. She felt her buttocks snuggled against the front of his body.

"Ohhhhhh, Burke…" she moaned quietly, tipping her head back to look at him.

He was grinning innocently. Her moan made the grin go away. His lips quivered. She felt the beat of his heart suddenly as he looked down over her shoulder and saw where his hands were, how they were filled with her firm, naked tits.

His fingers flexed, squeezing the flesh reflexively. "Monica…" he gasped. "Oh, Monica."

They both looked down. One nipple spiked redly between his fingers and throbbed. She felt a quick thickening through the bulk of his cutoffs and her bikini bottoms, and it swelled into the deep crack of her taut ass.

"Monica…" he gasped again.

"Burke – you're holding… you've got your hands over my tits!" Monica gasped.

"I sure do," he said stupidly.

"Ohhhhhhh, don't… let me go, Burke! Ohhhh…"

He gasped heatedly against the back of her neck and the side of her face, and she could feel him tremble as much as she was, his fingers still squeezing and kneading her heated flesh gently.

"Ohhhhhh, Monica – they feel so good! So firm and full! God, how I've wanted to hold you against me like this, you don't know!"

"Burke, stop – you mustn't! I – ohhhhh, stop squeezing them, Burke, you don't know what you're doing to me!"

"What, Monica? What am I doing to you? Tell me!" he gasped. "Oh, God – if you only knew what the feel of your sweet body is doing to me!"

"I can feel it, Burke!" Monica gasped, moaning when she couldn't help the way her tight, full butt cheeks clenched spasmically around the thickening hump of his cock as he pushed against her back.

"Oh, Monica – honey… I've never felt this way about any girl before, I swear I haven't!" he moaned, holding her tighter and tighter. "The way you look, the sound of your voice – everything about you drives me wild!"

Monica gasped again. She felt dizzy from the force of all the new sensations jolting through her young body. Yet, oddly, she felt a quick streak of jealousy at the thought he might have fondled another girl's tits – or more.

"Are you sure you're not just saying that, Burke?" she gasped.

"Monica, I swear it! Why else would I put up with the silly rules your grandfather has? What other guy would sneak over here and go through all this just to talk to you and be with you for a few minutes? You keep wondering what terrible things would happen to you if we got caught like this. But what about me? What do you think would happen to me? I must be nuts to take this kind of risk, Monica – and I am! I'm nuts about you, honey!"

He kissed the side of her face. He pressed himself tightly against her back and her full, round buttocks, not caring any more if she did feel the swell of his prick in her deep, wonderful asscrack.

Monica was nearly breathless. She let out a long moan of happiness and heat and turned in his arms. She pressed her front against him tightly, letting her tits flatten boldly against his naked, hard chest, letting the hump of his swollen, throbbing cock press against her hot, running cunt.

"Ohhhhhh, Burke!" she cried. "I feel so scary! Hold me, darling – hold me tightly!"

He did. His hands moved all over her back. They slid over her hips and cupped the full, firm cheeks of her ass. He pulled her quivering pussy tightly against his middle until their pelvises ground and slid together erotically.

They swayed together, gasping and clinging. Monica felt the big waxy seagrape leaves under her bare feet. She didn't know how it happened, but they were suddenly lying on the thick carpet of them, still embraced.

Burke lifted her face from the hollow of his shoulder and looked into her indigo eyes. "Monica, I love you," he whispered.

"I – I love you too, Burke."

"I wish… God, I just wish you could get out, away from this place. I wish I were good enough for you."

Monica drew back slightly and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You know," he said. "Good enough for your grandfather."

"No, I don't know, Burke," she said. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just a guy, Monica. My father's just a forest ranger off in the Everglades. My parents are divorced, and my mother just runs a dress shop over in Miami. That makes me a nobody, Monica – nobody your grandfather would want to have you associate with. Come on, you know it's that way."

She drew back further, blinking. "Burke, that isn't true!" she cried. "Grampa isn't that way!"

"Sure he is," Burke said darkly. He looked at her. His expression changed. "Honey, you mean you really don't know? My God, it's all over school! I've heard even Whit admits it. You're untouchable. No guy has a chance in hell of getting near you because of him – not unless his old man's another millionaire with a family pedigree ten feet long."

Monica stared at him. She didn't believe it. And then, suddenly, she did. It all made sense to her now – the restrictions, the chaperone whenever she wanted to go anywhere off the estate. She came against Burke with a sudden burst of emotion.

"You're near me, darling!" she cried, pressing her tits boldly against his chest again, lifting her mouth to his, kissing a boy for the first real time in her life.

"Ohhhhh, Monica!" Burke gasped.

His lips parted. She felt the tip of his tongue slide into her mouth. The touch of it was thrilling.

She felt his hands roam over her back and her butt again, and she yielded to him completely, feeling a spark of rebellion inside her as she did.

She gasped and puffed. She didn't resist when his hands slid between their bodies and cupped her tits fully again. Burke drew back and looked down at her, and she felt a surge of modesty rush through her.

"Ohhhhh, don't…" she gasped, flinging her arm over her tits, quickly working at the misplaced halter to cover them up.

"No, don't – don't cover them, Monica!" he cried quickly. "Let me look at you – all of you! Oh, God, you're beautiful!"

He held her ann. He lifted it gently away from her tits. She was on her back. She gasped again and again, watching the expression on his face. The way his eyes moved over her face and lips and breasts and the swell of her bikinied hips was like a warm caress, and she couldn't keep from squirming under his gaze.

"Nobody's ever looked at me like that before, Burke," she whispered, lifting her arms over her head, stretching the lithe, slim length of her half-naked body.

"I feel so damn lucky," he said nearly reverently. He reached forward slowly. His fingertips traced the outline of her firm tit, and she moaned under his touch, feeling her nipple sprout from the end in a red, rubbery nub.

"I – I've never even been kissed before, Burke – not like that!" she gasped. "Oh, I can't believe I'm lying here like this with you looking at my naked tits and feeling them with your fingers and… ohhhhh, Burke!" she shivered, letting out a harsh gasp of shock and delight and surprise.