Little sis Bea, Apollo and Big Brother John

14-year-old Bea discovers a dog's forbidden love. Her big brother watches her taboo awakening and now he must claim her for himself.

Disclaimer: Welcome to a world where forbidden desire is the only rule. This story is part of a collection where all lines are meant to be crossed. And all characters do. If you keep reading, you're already on the other side.
Reader discretion is advised.

The stories that you could read that came before Bea's exploration; Melissa & the Game of Truth or Dare, Andy - Ryan & the Freshman Party

The front door slammed shut behind John with a thud that echoed through the empty house. His cleats were still on, grass and dirt clinging to the soles, his jersey damp with sweat from practice. He kicked them off, the smell of grass and sweat and teenage boy thick in the hallway. His mom’s voice rang in his head — “Get home early, John. Bea’s alone.” — urgent, almost pleading. He’d brushed it off at the time. Bea was fourteen. A young fourteen – so their parents didn’t see her as being ready to leave alone for periods. He saw it differently, she could handle herself. But now, standing in the quiet, the house felt too still. Too empty.
His other sister was out — study group, she’d said. Late. Probably wouldn’t be back till after nine. Bea? She was probably upstairs. She always was. In her room. With her music, her books, her stupid stuffed animals. He didn’t know why his mom was so worried. Bea was fine. She was fine.
He started up the stairs, his footsteps heavy on the wood. Halfway up, he heard it.
A moan.
Low. Rhythmic. Wet.
His body froze. His hand clenched into a fist at his side. What the fuck? His mind snapped into protective mode — Is someone in there? Is someone hurting her? He took a step back, his heart pounding. He listened.
The moan came again. Higher this time. Breathier. A soft, gasping whimper that ended in a shuddering sigh.
It was Bea.
His cock twitched in his jeans. Hard. Instant. Unbidden.
He didn’t move. He stood there, frozen on the stairs, his breath shallow, his mind racing. Bea? Moaning? It didn’t make sense. She was fourteen. She was so innocent. She was his little sister.
But the sound — it was unmistakable. It was pleasure. Raw, unfiltered, desperate pleasure.
And then, like a punch to the gut, the memory hit him.
The party.
The girl in the Jedi costume. Face paint smudged, eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. Sam had found her sneaking in, looking for someone. They’d gotten her drunk. Laughed as they led her to the closet. The rules: No harm. No penetration. Just head.
He remembered her mouth. How skilled it was. How eager. How she’d taken each guy, one after another, her lips wrapped around their cocks, her tongue sliding over the head, her throat working as she swallowed them down. She’d given each of them incredible head. For a girl her age, she shouldn’t have been so good. She’d done it before.
And in that moment, as he watched her take his cock, his own fantasy had flashed — That it was Bea’s mouth? Bea’s tongue caressing the head of cock, sucking on him.
He had loved the moment. But, til now, had to bury those feelings. Those thoughts of Bea. But now, hearing her moan, feeling his cock harden against his jeans, he couldn’t ignore it.
He had to see.
He moved silently, his footsteps muffled on the carpet. He reached Bea’s door. His hand hovered over the knob. He took a breath. He turned it slowly, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet.
The door opened a crack.
The sight hit him like a punch to the gut.
Bea was on the floor, naked, sweat glistening on her skin. Her small, pale body was spread out, her legs wide, her knees bent, her feet flat on the floor. Her hands were tangled in Apollo’s thick, coarse fur, her fingers digging into his neck as she arched her back, her hips jerking off the floor. Her mouth was open, a low, breathy moan escaping her throat. Her eyes were closed, her lashes fluttering as she surrendered to the sensation.
Apollo, the family’s massive German Shepherd, was between her legs, his body a wall of muscle and fur. His cock was a thick, dark shaft, slick with pre-cum, jutting out from his fur like a promise. He was panting, his tongue lapping out of his mouth, his eyes half-closed in bliss. His tongue lapping at the hard, swollen nub of her clit, with long, slow strokes. His tongue was rough, wet, insistent, sliding over her slit, his nose rubbing against her clit with each pass. He could taste her, the sweet, musky flavor of her arousal. It was intoxicating. Apollo could feel her body trembling beneath him, her hips jerking as she pressed against his snouth. He could hear her moans, soft, breathy sounds that grew louder with each lick.
Beatrice’s hands found their way to her breasts, her fingers pinching at her nipples, rolling them between her thumb and forefinger. She arched her back, her hips lifting off the floor as she pressed against Apollo’s face. “AHHH, good boy Apollo—fuck… your tongue is amazing!” she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure. “Better than my hand!”
She was lost in it, the sensation of his tongue buried in her crotch, the heat of his breath, the wetness of his saliva. She could feel the pressure building in her belly, a tight, coiling tension that was about to snap. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into Apollo’s fur as she pushed against his mouth. “Don’t stop… good boy, don’t stop…”
Apollo didn’t stop. He licked her harder, his tongue moving faster, rubbing against her clit with a steady, insistent pressure. He could feel her body trembling, her hips jerking as she pressed against his snout. Her moans, loud, desperate sounds that filled the room.
Beatrice’s body tensed, her back arching off the floor as the orgasm hit her. It was a wave of pleasure that crashed over her, a hot, electric shock that raced through her body. She cried out, a loud, keening sound that echoed off the walls. Her fingers dug into Apollo’s fur, her hips jerking as she pressed against his face. “Oh god—oh god—yes!”
The orgasm came faster, then washed over her, a tidal wave of pleasure that left her trembling, her body slick with sweat. She lay on the floor, her chest heaving, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Apollo didn’t stop. He kept licking her, his tongue sliding over her slit, tasting her cum, as he kept rubbing against her clit.
Beatrice’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused as she stared up at the ceiling. She was still trembling, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her first true orgasm. Apollo’s tongue continued to assault her. He couldn’t get enough of her juices, the rough muscle of his incredible tongue sent orgasmic fire through her virginal slit. She moaned, a low, breathy sound that escaped her lips before she could stop it.
“Again… please… again,” she whispered, her voice thick with need.
Apollo just licked her harder, every time she came, his tongue moving faster, the pressure and the pursuit constant.
Beatrice’s eyes snapped open — wide, startled, pupils dilated. Locking onto John’s with the shock of a deer caught in headlights. Her breath hitched. Her fingers, still tangled in Apollo’s fur, froze mid-tug. For one fractured second, instinct screamed: Scream. Cover. Run. Her body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring ready to bolt.
Then it hit her — another wave, deeper, darker, hotter than the last — crashing through her belly, radiating outward in electric pulses. Her back arched off the floor, a guttural moan tearing from her throat, raw and unfiltered. Her eyelids fluttered — not in hesitation, but in surrender. She knew in that split-second flutter, she saw him.
John.
Standing there, cock in hand, thick and flushed, veins pulsing under the skin, pre-cum glistening at the tip. His eyes, hungry, glazed, devouring her. Locked onto her spread legs, onto Apollo’s tongue lapping at her slit, onto the sweat-slicked curve of her belly, the rise and fall of her small, heaving breasts. He wasn’t just watching. He was consuming. His thumb stroked the head, slow, deliberate, his hips rocking minutely as he stroked himself, lost in the sight of his sister being pleasured by their dog.
And Beatrice; fourteen years old, trembling, drenched in sweat and arousal. Didn’t look away. Didn’t scream. Didn’t try to cover herself. She didn’t even flinch at the sight of her brother’s naked lust. Instead, she let her eyes drift shut again, a slow, deliberate blink, as if sealing herself in the moment. She didn’t stop Apollo. She didn’t push him away. She didn’t care that John was there. She wanted him to see. Wanted him to see how good it felt. Wanted him to see how far she’d gone. She let her hips roll, grinding against Apollo’s tongue, her moans growing louder, more desperate, more filthy, as she surrendered completely to the pleasure, to the taboo, to the knowledge that her brother was watching, stroking himself, enjoying her as the dog ate her pussy.
John didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His actions were a language all their own. He stepped fully into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that echoed in the heavy, musky air. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t look away. He pulled off his top, then t-shirt, then he unbuttoned his jeans. He shoved the jeans down his hips, letting them pool around his ankles, then came his boxers, all kicked them off with a sharp, deliberate motion. His bare feet, made no sound on the hardwood as he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her.
He stood over her for a moment, his cock throbbing, thick and heavy, the veins standing out like ropes. He was naked now, fully exposed, his body taut with arousal, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He didn’t touch her yet. He just stared, at the way Apollo’s tongue lapped at her clit, at the way her hips jerked, at the sweat glistening on her skin, at the dark, wet patch between her legs. He was mesmerized. Enthralled. Possessed.
Then he knelt.
He dropped to his knees beside her hip, his knee pressing into the hardwood, his body leaning over her. His free hand — the one not stroking his cock — reached out, his fingers brushing against the smooth, sweat-slicked skin of her side. He traced the curve of her ribcage, his thumb grazing the underside of her small, developing breast. She gasped, her body jerking, her eyes flying open again, meeting his for a split second. A flash of shock, of recognition, of yes — before fluttering shut again.
His hand closed around her breast, his fingers curling around the soft, yielding flesh. He squeezed, gently at first, then harder, his thumb finding her nipple — hard, pink, standing out against her pale skin. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the tiny bud stiffen under his touch. She whimpered, a high, breathy sound that was almost a sob, her hips bucking against Apollo’s tongue.
Then he dipped his head.
His mouth closed over her nipple, his lips sealing around it, his tongue lashing at the hard peak. He sucked, hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, his tongue swirling in tight, wet circles. She cried out — a sharp, keening scream that echoed off the walls. Her body arching off the floor, her fingers digging into Apollo’s fur, her hips grinding against his tongue.
“Fuck—yeah, yes, bro!” she screamed, her voice raw, desperate, filthy. “Oh god—yes! Don’t stop—don’t stop!”
Her orgasm hit her like a freight train — a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that crashed over her, a hot, electric shock that raced through her body. Her back arched, her hips jerking violently against Apollo’s face, her fingers clawing at his fur, her scream echoing off the walls. Her body trembled, convulsed, shattered under the force of it, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent, gasping moan.
John didn’t stop. He kept sucking, his tongue lashing at her nipple, his fingers pinching at the other, his cock still throbbing in his hand. He watched her face, watched her body, watched the way her hips jerked, the way her sweat glistened, the way her mouth opened in silent, gasping ecstasy. He was lost in it. He was in it. He was part of it.
And Beatrice, a teenager, trembling, drenched in sweat and arousal, didn’t pull away. Didn’t try to stop him. She let him suck, let him touch, let him watch. She let him be part of her pleasure. She let him be part of her taboo. She let him be part of her sin.
And as the last aftershocks of her orgasm washed over her, her body still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps, she opened her eyes — not to look at Apollo, not to look at the ceiling. But to look at her brother, kneeling beside her, his cock still hard, close to her, his eyes still hungry, his mouth still on her breast.
And she smiled.
The smile wasn’t innocent. It wasn’t playful. It was a slow, knowing curve of her lips — a silent yes that held the weight of everything that had just happened: the dog, the brother, the pleasure, the taboo, the surrender. It was acknowledgment. She knew what he was doing. She knew what he wanted. And she was letting him have it. It was the smile of a girl who had just discovered power — not in innocence, but in transgression. In the raw, unfiltered truth of her own desire, and the way it could bend the world around her.
John felt it — the shift in her gaze, the heat in her smile. It wasn’t just pleasure.
He pulled back from her nipple, his lips wet, his tongue darting out to lick the salt from his lips. He met her eyes, his own dark with hunger, his cock still hard, still throbbing in his hand. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with the scent of sweat and arousal and dog and sex. His free hand returned to her beautiful little breast.
Apollo, still between her legs, didn’t stop. His tongue kept lapping at her slit, his nose rubbing against her clit, his cock still hard, slick with pre-cum, jutting out from his fur. The dog looked ready for more. He was going to make her come again.
Beatrice’s hips rolled, grinding against his tongue, her fingers tightening in his fur. She moaned — a low, breathy sound that escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Again… please… again,” she whispered, her voice thick with need.
John’s hand tightened around his cock, his thumb stroking the head, smearing pre-cum over the tip. He watched her, his eyes locked onto her face, onto the way her hips jerked, onto the sweat glistening on her skin. He was mesmerized. Enthralled. Possessed.
And as the last aftershocks of her orgasm washed over her, her body still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps, she opened her eyes — not to look at Apollo, not to look at the ceiling — but to look at her brother, kneeling beside her, his cock hard, his eyes still hungry, his hand still on her breast.
And she smiled.
Bea couldn’t take anymore from Apollo’s tongue — she was orgasmed out, at least for now. Her body trembled, slick with sweat, her thighs trembling, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. She tried to push him off, but her arms were weak, her fingers fumbling in his fur. A laugh bubbled up from her chest — high, breathless, almost hysterical. “Goood boy, Apollo… but enough for now,” she panted, her voice thick with exhaustion and pleasure. “I may let you have some more pussy later.” She tugged hard, her fingers sinking into his thick fur, pulling him away from her slit. Apollo whined, his tongue lolling, his cock still hard, slick with pre-cum, jutting out from his fur. He didn’t want to stop. Then Apollo stopped but moved forward, ready to fuck.
John moved. He reached over, his hands gripping Apollo’s collar, and lifted the dog off her, setting him gently to the side. Apollo whined again, a look of desperation in his eyes, being stopped rom mating.
Bea lay still, her chest heaving, her eyes fluttering open as she stared up at her brother. He was kneeling beside her, naked, his body taut with arousal, his cock standing out like a promise. His eyes fell back down on her, his gaze heavy, possessive. She smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. “Is that because of me?” she asked, her voice breathy, her eyes flicking down to his cock, still lightly stroked in his hand.
John’s eyes followed hers. “Yes,” he said, his voice rough, thick with need. “You look so hot.” He threw a glance at Apollo, still panting beside them, his tongue lolling. “Oh fuck… seeing him giving you head, and you just riding those waves… that has me so hard for you.” He couldn’t help it — his gaze raked over her, from her sweat-slicked developing breasts, to the dark, wet patch between her legs, to the way her small, pale thighs trembled. Even her age, she was so pretty. And he wanted to fuck her so badly.
She tried to sit up, but her body was still trembling, her legs weak from the weight of Apollo on her waist and legs. John reached out, his hand sliding under her back, helping her up. She climbed onto the bed, her small, trembling body sinking into the soft mattress. She looked at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted, her hand outstretched to him. “Come, cuddle with me, bro. I want you to hold me in your arms.”
John stood at the bedside, his cock still hard, still pointing out like a javelin. She reached out, her fingers trembling, but stopped, her eyes meeting his, looking at him — sort of for permission. “Please,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
She took hold of his cock, her small fingers wrapping around the thick, hot shaft. It throbbed in her hand, the veins standing out like ropes, the head slick with pre-cum. It made her pussy quiver. Her body trembled for his touch. Holding his cock, she pulled gently, guiding him onto the bed. He reached down to her, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips. He kissed her — first, just lips, tender, loving, then he probed her lips with his tongue. She didn’t think about her earlier reservations about tongue. That was all forgotten now. She just accepted it. And their tongues met. Brother and sister kissed passionately, their mouths sealed together, their tongues tangling, their breaths mingling. Ages be damned.
Their kiss stopped, and he moved up to her, his body pressing against her back. She turned, her back to him, and he wrapped himself around her, his arms pulling her close, his cock pressing against her ass. She reached back, again her fingers finding his cock, her small hand wrapping around the thick, hot shaft. His breathing hitched once more. The sensation of her small hand holding him was incredible. Then she shocked him even more — she moved it down to her wet pussy and rubbed it along her virgin lips. John fought the intense feeling coursing through him, his hips jerking, his cock twitching in her hand.
“It’s too soon for me to take… but I do want to feel you… in me!” she whispered, her voice thick with need. She took his now wetted cock and rubbed it against her anus.
“Are you sure you want that?” he asked, his voice rough, not wanting to hurt her.
“Yes,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to feel you inside me — even if it’s only there, for now.” She didn’t know how a cock got in there, his was so big, and the hole so small. But she’d seen pictures of it.
“Let me…” he said, and he started to rub her anus with his finger, gently slipping it in. She moaned at the intrusion. At first it felt bad, but that changed — the pressure, the stretch, the heat. Then a second finger. And finally, after a minute, she felt it — his cock pushing gently in. About an inch at first…
“Fuck, John, oh fuck, bro — please keep going,” she gasped, her voice raw, desperate. Eventually he was halfway in, and he rocked that for a moment. Then he slipped in more until he was buried inside his little sister to the hilt. And they started — a mutual rocking back and forth, as his cock fucked her virgin ass.
“I’m so full — it feels amazing,” she barely said, lost in the sensations of being fucked. John then surprised her by gently fingering her clit, nice and gently, building up speed and pressure until she was biting her pillow to drown out her screams.
At that moment, John saw the bedroom door slip open — and his mom looked in. When she realized what she was looking at, her expression was one of shock. John waited for the scream, the shouting. Then slowly, but clearly, a smile — and an expression of happiness. And she was gone, the door closed as quick as it happened.
The rubbing of his finger on her clit, the rocking of his cock in and out of her ass, and to make it more torturous, his freed hand was molesting a nipple and breast. She came again and again.
“I’m coming,” John felt his orgasm approaching, and he was readying to explode. She pulled away the pillow from her mouth. “Stay inside, fill me, bro — I want to feel your cum inside, filling me up!” And that did it. John exploded inside her, one shot after another, until his balls were drained.
They collapsed into one another, big brother embracing his sister. His cock still clamped inside her ass. For a few minutes, until it was fully reduced and he pulled out.
“Bea — you are incredible, sis,” he kissed her neck. She giggled. Then turned herself enough to take his mouth in hers, they kissed passionately, their tongues warring with one another. Till they stopped and just cuddled.
—
They cuddled for a few more minutes — skin slick with sweat, breaths syncing, hearts slowing from the frantic rhythm of pleasure to the slow, heavy thump of aftermath. John’s cock, still half-hard, pressed against Bea’s ass, a warm, heavy weight. She sighed, a soft, contented sound that vibrated against his chest. He kissed the nape of her neck, his lips brushing over the fine, dark hairs that clung to her skin.
But beneath the warmth, beneath the euphoria, a cold thread of danger coiled in his gut.
Mom had seen them.
And she hadn’t screamed.
She hadn’t yelled.
She hadn’t called the police.
She’d smiled.
That was acceptance. That was complicity. That meant this wasn’t over. That meant it could happen again. That meant they were allowed.
And that meant they had to be careful.
“I better get out of here before the others come home,” John murmured, his voice rough, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to bury himself in her again. But the risk was too great. The world outside this room was still normal. Still sane. Still forbidden.
Bea didn’t argue. She just nodded, her eyes fluttering open, her gaze heavy with post-orgasmic haze. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice thick. “Go. Before Dad gets home. Or Rachel.”
They kissed — a slow, deep, lingering kiss that tasted of sweat and salt and the faint metallic tang of her blood from where his cock had stretched her. Their tongues tangled, lazy now, sated, but still hungry. He pulled away, his lips brushing hers one last time.
He threw on his clothes in a rush — jeans, boxers, t-shirt — his movements jerky, his eyes darting to the door. He called Apollo, his voice low, urgent. The dog whined, his tail wagging, his cock still half-hard, slick with pre-cum. John grabbed his collar, tugging him toward the door. Apollo resisted, his nose twitching, his tongue licking at the air, still tasting Bea. But he eventually complied and they left.
Bea pulled a sheet over her body — not to cover herself, but to feel the cool cotton against her overheated skin. She lay there, her thighs trembling, her ass sore, her pussy throbbing, her clit swollen and sensitive. She couldn’t touch herself — not yet. The tenderness was too raw, too electric. But she didn’t need to. She could still feel John inside her — the phantom pressure, the stretch, the heat. She could still taste him on her tongue, smell him on her skin, hear his moans echoing in her ears.
And Apollo.
She smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. “What are you thinking, Bea?” she whispered to herself, her voice thick with exhaustion and desire for Apollo. “You’re going to train him.” But she was also thinking of that cock. It was her size. “What would that feel like?”
She didn’t know if she meant it. But she knew she wanted to.
—
Downstairs, John stepped into the kitchen, his heart still pounding, his cock still half-hard, his skin still tingling from Bea’s touch. He’d been looking for his mom. He needed to know what she was thinking. What she was going to do.
She was at the island, a glass of wine in her hand, her eyes closed, her head tilted back, her lips parted. She looked relaxed. Content. Beautiful.
And then she saw him.
Her eyes opened, her gaze locking onto his. And she smiled — a slow, knowing smile that sent a jolt through his gut.
“Hey, handsome,” she said, her voice smooth, low, her eyes raking over him, from his damp hair, to his flushed cheeks, to the bulge in his jeans. She definitely wasn’t angry at him fucking his very young sister.
“Mom…” John’s tongue was tied. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain. He didn’t know how to apologize. He didn’t want to apologize.
She put her drink down, stepped up to him, and placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice soft, her eyes dark with something he couldn’t name. “I was angry. I was freaked. Until I saw how happy she was. How beautiful she looked in the throes of her pleasure that you were giving her. That is all I could have asked for, from such a union.”
She took another sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving his. “That was mutual love. And consenting love. There’s nothing beating such a love, especially when it’s between a brother and sister.”
Then she shocked him.
She put her drink down, stepped into his space, and kissed him — hard, deep, her tongue pressing into his mouth, her hands sliding up his chest, her fingers tangling in his hair. He froze for a second — then wrapped his arms around her, his cock hardening against her hip, his tongue tangling with hers. They kissed deep, their mouths sealed together, their breaths mingling, their bodies pressed close. It was wrong. It was taboo. It was hot.
When she pulled away, she just smiled — a slow, satisfied smile — and took her drink, disappearing down the hall, leaving him standing there, his cock hard, his mind reeling, his world turned upside down.

Bea 01
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My world is built on shared desires and whispered sins. Now, I invite you to add to the silence. Leave a comment with your thoughts on the story, or offer something more forbidden: a true experience. Let me weave it into the life of a character, giving your secret a new voice. [email protected]
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