Raw Cravings Unleashed
Under the dim glow of a harvest moon, the old lakeside cabin creaked like a lover’s sigh, its wooden bones steeped in the scent of pine sap and forgotten summers. Marcus had arrived first, ditching the family reunion crowd at the main lodge for this secluded annex, key in hand from a sly reservation. His stepsister Riley was due any minute—trouble wrapped in sun-kissed skin and a devilish smirk. The air hung heavy with lake mist, cool against his flushed cheeks as he paced the creaky porch. He’d felt it building for weeks, that forbidden itch, ever since their eyes locked too long at Thanksgiving. Tonight, no more pretending.
Her truck rumbled up the gravel path, headlights slicing the dark. Riley hopped out, wind tousling her dark auburn waves, her tank top clinging to curves that strained against denim shorts. Twenty-six, a yoga instructor with thighs toned from endless downward dogs, she moved like liquid sin. “Miss me, big bro?” she teased, voice husky from the drive, slamming the door with a hip bump.
Marcus grabbed her waist before she could step onto the porch, pulling her into the shadows. Their mouths crashed—raw, desperate, tasting of mint gum and road dust. Her tongue invaded, bold and unyielding, while his hands roamed under her shirt, thumbs circling nipples that pebbled instantly. “Fuck, Riley,” he groaned into her neck, inhaling her vanilla lotion mixed with sweat. “Parents think we’re hiking tomorrow. We’ve got hours.”
She laughed low, grinding against his hardening bulge. “Let ’em hike. I want you raw tonight.” 🔥
Chapter 1: Moonlit Ignition
Inside, the cabin smelled of aged cedar and faint mildew, a single lamp casting amber pools on the king-sized bed piled with quilts. Riley kicked off her boots, toes curling into the rough wool rug. Marcus watched, pulse thundering, as she peeled her tank over her head, revealing full C-cups spilling from a lacy black bra. Freckles dusted her shoulders like stardust; her green eyes locked on his, daring him.
He stripped too, shirt tossed aside, revealing a broad chest honed from construction work—callused hands that built houses by day, now aching to dismantle her control. She backed onto the bed, legs parting invitingly, shorts riding up to expose the damp crotch of her panties. “Taste me first,” she whispered, fingers tracing her inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Marcus knelt, knees grinding into the rug’s coarse fibers. He hooked her shorts down, inhaling her musk—salty arousal blended with skin’s natural tang. Panties followed, revealing smooth folds glistening under the lamplight. His tongue delved without preamble, flat and broad, lapping from her entrance to clit in one long, raw stroke. She bucked, nails scraping his scalp, a guttural moan echoing off log walls.
“God, yes—deeper.” Her voice cracked, hips rolling to fuck his face. He obliged, sucking her swollen nub while two fingers plunged into her slick heat, curling against that ridged spot. Juices coated his chin, dripping warm onto his chest. The wet schlick of his mouth mingled with her whimpers, the lake’s distant lap providing a rhythmic underscore.
Riley’s thighs clamped his ears, trembling as she shattered—body arching, a sharp cry tearing free. “Marcus! Fuck…” Waves pulsed around his fingers, her essence flooding his tongue, tangy and addictive. He didn’t stop, drawing out every quiver until she shoved him back, gasping, chest heaving like bellows.
Chapter 2: Explosive Release
She flipped him onto his back, the mattress springs protesting under his weight. Riley straddled his thighs, her weight pinning him deliciously. His cock throbbed upright, veined and thick, pre-cum beading at the tip like dew. She gripped it base to head, stroking with a twist that made his hips jerk. “Look at this beast,” she purred, thumb smearing the slick bead. “Been dreaming of it stretching me.”
Marcus groaned, hands fisting quilts as she pumped faster, her grip firm, alternating squeezes that bordered pain. The room filled with skin-slapping sounds, her breaths ragged pants. But she slowed, eyes gleaming wickedly. “Not yet. I want your load raw on my skin first.”
Sliding down, she knelt between his legs on the floor, cool boards shocking against heated knees. Her breasts swayed as she worked him—mouth hovering close, hot exhales teasing the sensitive crown. Spit trailed from her lips, lubing each stroke. He watched, mesmerized, the vein along his shaft pulsing visibly.
“Gonna cover those tits?” he rasped, voice gravel from restraint.
“Every drop.” She pinched her own nipples, rolling them to peaks, then spat on his length for extra glide. Faster now, fist blurring, balls drawing tight. The pressure built, coiling like a spring in his gut. Riley leaned in, tongue flicking underside, pushing him over.
“Shit—here!” First rope erupted, thick and white, splattering her cleavage. She aimed higher, second jet painting her neck, third hitting chin. Warm strands cooled in the air, scent musky and primal. She milked him dry, giggling as the last dribbles hit her collarbone, mixing with sweat. 💋
Marcus panted, spent but stirring already at the sight—her finger scooping a pearl, sucking it clean with a moan. “Tastes like sin.” Vulnerability flickered in her eyes then, a rare crack in the vixen facade. She crawled up, nestling against him, his cum sticky between them. “Hate pretending around Mom and Dad.”
He stroked her hair, heart twisting. “Me too. This weekend’s our escape.”
The Ice Run Interruption
Minutes later, thirst hit. Marcus slipped on boxers and a robe, grabbing the bucket for ice from the mini-fridge outside. The night air nipped his skin, stars pricking the velvet sky. Down the path toward the lodge’s machine, footsteps crunched—his mom and stepdad, arms linked, wine glasses in hand.
“Marcus! Fancy seeing you here.” Mom hugged him tight, oblivious to his disheveled state. Stepdad clapped his shoulder. “Thought you’d be with the cousins by the firepit.”
“Just grabbing ice,” he stammered, bucket shielding his semi. Laughter from behind—Riley, stark naked, burst from the cabin door fifty yards off, doing naked cartwheels under moonlight. Breasts flopping wildly, she stuck out her tongue, pure provocation.
His pulse spiked. Mom rambled on about family drama, stepdad nodding. “Riley’s been acting wild lately. Hope she’s not embarrassing us.” Marcus forced a chuckle, eyes darting as Riley flipped into a handstand, pussy flashing briefly before she tumbled laughing back inside.
“Seen her?” Stepdad asked.
“Nah, probably crashing early.” Lie smooth as glass. He edged away, robe flapping dangerously, erection twitching at the risk. Door finally clicked shut behind him, safe.
Chapter 3: Forbidden Depths
Riley lounged on the bed, nude and unashamed, legs splayed to display her shaved mound. “Daddy give you the slut lecture again?” She smirked, but her fingers trembled slightly parting her lips.
Marcus dropped the bucket, robe pooling. “You almost got us busted, you maniac.” Yet his cock betrayed him, rigid anew. He crossed to her, thumbing a drying cum streak off her breast. She shivered, pulling him down for a filthy kiss—tongues tangling, sharing his own taste.
Break came natural. “Shower?” he suggested, voice thick.
“Together.” The bathroom steamed quickly, hot water pounding like heartbeats. Tiles slick underfoot, soap suds foaming as she lathered him—hands gliding over pecs, abs, dipping to soap his length reverently. He returned it, fingers probing her ass crack, circling the puckered ring.
“Want you there,” she breathed against his ear, nipping lobe. “Fill me raw like never before.”
Back in the bedroom, dried but eager, she positioned on all fours, ass high, cheeks spread by her own hands. The lantern light gilded her skin, highlighting the tight rosebud winking invitingly. Marcus fetched lube from his bag—clear gel squirting copiously over his palm.
He coated himself first, the cool slick contrasting his heat, strokes testing readiness. Then her—fingers massaging the gel in circles, dipping a digit shallowly. She pushed back, moaning as it sank knuckle-deep. “More.”
Two fingers now, scissoring gently while his free hand fisted her hair lightly. Her pussy wept below, untouched but dripping onto sheets. Rhythm built—her hips grinding, his probes deepening. Popping free, he nudged his crown against her, pressure mounting.
“Breathe,” he murmured, hands on hips dimpling flesh. She did, relaxing, and the head breached—tight ring yielding with a burn that made her gasp. Inch by inch, he sank, the vice-like grip milking him. Halfway in, she rocked back, demanding all seven inches.
“Fuck—it’s splitting me good.” Sweat beaded her back; he licked it saltily, hips snapping shallowly at first, building to punishing thrusts. Skin slapped wetly, lube squelching obscenely. Her hand flew to clit, rubbing furiously, body quaking toward release.
Orgasms hit tandem—hers a scream muffled into pillow, walls fluttering around nothing; his a roar, flooding her depths with hot spurts. Pulled out slow, cum leaked white rivulets down her thighs. Collapse followed, tangled limbs, breaths syncing in afterglow.
Chapter 4: Midnight Risk
Dawn was hours off, but sleep evaded them. Cabin air cooled, sheets twisted like battle flags. Riley traced his chest scars—old construction mishaps—her touch feather-light. “Remember that lake party last summer? When we almost…”
Flashback hit: crowded reunion bonfire, stolen glances turning to her dragging him into boathouse shadows. Fumbled handjob then, his cum on her palm, licked clean under stars. “Almost got caught by Uncle Ray.”
Tonight’s hunger reignited. “Outside,” she urged, slipping into his flannel only—no panties. Moonlit dock beckoned, water black mirror reflecting their silhouettes. Splinters bit bare feet as they tumbled onto weathered boards, her on top, flannel gaping.
Cicadas buzzed chorus; loons called eerie. His mouth latched her breast, sucking hard enough to bruise, while she ground her wetness along his thigh. “Fuck me here—anyone could wake and see.” Risk fueled them. She sank onto him reverse cowgirl, ass cheeks spreading around his base as she rode.
Wet slaps carried over water, her moans carried on wind. He gripped her waist, slamming up, balls tapping her rear. New angle hit deep, G-spot precision making her babble incoherently. “Harder—make it raw, Marcus!”
She came grinding circles, juices squirting faintly onto dock. He flipped her prone, pounding missionary under stars, her legs hooked ankles behind neck. Climax ripped him—pulling out to hose her belly, ropes painting freckles anew. They lay panting, water lapping rhythmically, cum cooling tacky.
Back inside, tenderness bloomed. He fetched warm cloth, cleaning her gently, kisses peppering eyelids. “This changes everything,” she whispered, fear edging voice.
“For the better.” But doubt lingered, family reunion looming at dawn.
Chapter 5: Dawn’s Reckoning
New Temptations Arise
Morning light filtered through pines, gold shafts dancing dust motes. Coffee brewed pungent, masking sex musk. Riley showered alone this time, emerging towel-wrapped, hair dripping rivulets down cleavage. Marcus sipped black brew, erection tenting sweats at the sight.
“One more before faces?” She dropped towel, bending over table to present. He didn’t hesitate—pants down, sliding into her from behind, still loose from night. Table rocked, mugs rattling. Quick and feral, her walls clenched milkingly. “Breed me like family slut.”
He did, painting insides white again, groans muffled against her shoulder. Pulled apart glistening, they dressed—her in sundress no bra, him jeans chafing sensitive skin.
Reunion beach beckoned. Families milled, barbecues smoking salty-charred meat. Parents waved, clueless. Stepdad pulled Marcus aside. “Keep eye on Riley? She’s flighty.”
“Always do.” Underneath, Riley’s foot teased his calf, eyes promising more.
Beachside Tease
Afternoon sun baked sand hot under towels. Riley oiled herself languidly, legs parted toward him, bikini bottoms camel-toed. Whispers carried: “Tonight, after dinner—boathouse rematch.” His nod subtle, cock twitching.
Swim cooled bodies but not fire. Underwater, her hand grazed him boldly, stroking through trunks till he throbbed. Surfaced sputtering, parents none the wiser chatting recipes.
Dinner fireside: s’mores gooey sweet, stories flowing. Riley sat thigh-to-thigh, fingers tracing seams unseen. Tension coiled unbearable.
Final Surrender
Night fell heavy. Families dispersed; they slipped to boathouse—musty canvas, oar scents, gentle rock of moored boats. Door barred flimsy, she stripped moon-pale.
“All night ours.” He bound her wrists loosely with rope—trust game, her pupils dilating. Ate her slow: tongue probing ass still tender, fingers everywhere. She begged vulgar: “Ram that fat dick in my shithole again—make it hurt good.”
He lubed anew (pocket stash), entering her ass doggy against wall. Boat creaked supportively; her screams echoed water-slapped. Fucked raw—speed building, her hand fisting pussy to squirt arcs. Dual peaks: him erupting deep anal, her convulsing endlessly.
After, unbound, they curled on tarps—bodies spent, souls bared. “Love this danger,” she murmured, tears salting his neck. “You. Us.”
“Forever, Riley. Raw and real.” Dawn crept, but for now, cocooned in each other, world faded. 🔥💋
