It was the summer of 1908 when I got my hot sister drunk and she begged to suck my cock.
The Edwardian age was supposed to be one of elegance and progress—motor cars on the roads, telephones in better houses, and a loosening of the old Victorian restraints. Yet in our circles, a young lady of nineteen was still expected to behave with perfect decorum. Emily had never been very good at decorum.
Our parents were away at a house party in Scotland for a fortnight, leaving the family estate in the Home Counties largely to Emily and me. At twenty-eight I had taken on more of the family affairs; Emily, with her cascade of chestnut hair, bright green eyes, full lips, and a figure that filled out the new, slightly less restrictive Edwardian gowns in the most sinful ways, had become a dangerous temptation I could no longer ignore.
That warm July evening the house felt alive with possibility. The servants had been given the night off after a long day preparing for an upcoming weekend party. I had raided Father’s wine cellar and brought up several bottles of fine champagne and a decanter of aged Scotch whisky. Emily met me in the drawing room wearing a pale cream tea gown that clung to her curves, the fabric soft and flowing rather than the stiff crinolines of earlier decades. Her hair was already partially down, pinned loosely in the modern style.
“Thomas,” she teased as I popped the cork on the first bottle, “you know Mother would say champagne is only for special occasions—and never for young ladies without supervision.”
I poured two generous glasses, the bubbles rising like forbidden promises. “Mother is in Scotland. And you, my dear sister, are very much a young woman now. One glass won’t corrupt you.”
She took it with a sparkling laugh and sipped. The bubbles made her nose wrinkle adorably. I kept the conversation light at first—motoring, the latest gramophone records, gossip from London—while steadily refilling her glass. Champagne first, then a splash of whisky when she grew bolder.
By the second glass her cheeks glowed. By the third she was giggly and loose-limbed, reclining on the chaise with one leg curled beneath her so the silk of her gown rode up, revealing a flash of stockinged ankle and calf. The fire in the hearth and the warm summer air through the open windows made the room feel intimate and dangerous.
“Thomas,” she said suddenly, her voice husky from the drink, “do you ever have… improper thoughts? About me?”
My pulse quickened. I sat beside her, close enough to smell the champagne on her breath and the faint rosewater in her hair. “What sort of improper thoughts, Emily?”
She bit her lip, eyes glassy and mischievous. “About touching. About kissing. About doing things the fast set in London whisper about. I’ve read things in novels I hide under my mattress. And sometimes…” She leaned in, whispering hotly against my ear, “I imagine taking you in my mouth. Sucking you until you can’t think straight. Would you like that, brother? Your little sister on her knees with your cock between her lips?”
The words went straight to my groin. My cock hardened instantly against my trousers. The champagne had worked its magic perfectly—turning my proper Edwardian sister into a bold, tipsy seductress.
“Show me,” I said, voice low and rough. “On your knees, Emily. Right here.”
She slid off the chaise with a rustle of silk, kneeling between my spread thighs on the thick Persian rug. Her hair tumbled further as pins came loose. I unfastened my trousers and freed my throbbing cock. It stood proud and thick, veins prominent, the head already slick.
Emily’s eyes widened with drunken delight. “So big and hard… for me?”
“All for you,” I confirmed, threading my fingers into her soft hair. “Touch it. Taste it.”
Her small hand wrapped around the shaft, stroking with growing confidence. Then she leaned forward and licked a long, slow stripe from base to tip, savoring the taste. The wet heat of her tongue made me groan. She licked again and again, coating every inch until my cock glistened, then took the head into her warm mouth and sucked.
The sensation was exquisite. I tightened my grip in her hair, guiding her gently as she bobbed, taking more of me with each pass. Saliva dripped down my shaft and onto her chin. From this angle I had a perfect view down the front of her loosened tea gown—her full breasts heaving, nipples tight against the thin fabric.
“That’s it,” I praised. “Suck your brother’s cock like a good girl. You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”
She moaned around me in agreement, the vibration sending sparks up my spine. She pushed deeper, gagging softly when I hit the back of her throat, but the alcohol made her persistent and eager. Tears pricked her eyes, but she didn’t stop—pulling back only to gasp for air before diving down again, slurping and sucking with obscene wet sounds that filled the drawing room.
I could see her other hand disappear beneath her gown, fingers working between her thighs as she pleasured herself while sucking me. The sight—my beautiful, tipsy sister on her knees in our family drawing room, champagne-flushed and cock-drunk—was almost overwhelming.
“Pull your gown down,” I ordered. “I want to see your tits while you suck me.”
She obeyed eagerly, tugging the soft fabric and her chemise lower until both full, creamy breasts spilled free. They bounced with her movements, nipples dark pink and begging for attention. She pinched one while continuing to work her mouth on my cock, moaning louder.
I began thrusting gently into her mouth, fucking her face with controlled strokes. “Such a wicked little sister. Look at you—drunk on champagne and my cock. Sucking like you were born for it. Does it make your pretty cunt wet?”
She nodded frantically, eyes watering but shining with lust. Her hand moved faster under her skirts. I could hear the wet sounds of her fingers.
I lasted as long as I could, savoring every lick, every suck, every gag. But the pressure built until I couldn’t hold back.
“I’m going to come, Emily. Swallow it all like a proper little slut for your brother.”
She sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks, taking me as deep as she could. I erupted with a groan, flooding her mouth with thick ropes of cum. She swallowed greedily, some spilling from the corners of her lips and dripping onto her bare breasts. She kept sucking gently through my orgasm, milking every drop, then licked me clean with long, loving strokes of her tongue.
When she finally pulled off, her face was a beautiful mess—lips swollen, chin shiny with spit and cum, eyes heavy-lidded and satisfied.
“Was that good?” she asked, voice hoarse and still tipsy.
“Perfect,” I told her, pulling her up into my lap and kissing her deeply, tasting myself on her tongue. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”
My cock was already twitching back to life against her thigh. She giggled and ground down on me.
“More?” she whispered hopefully, reaching down to stroke me again.
“Much more,” I promised.
We spent the rest of the night in the drawing room and then upstairs in her bedroom. She sucked me twice more—once slow and teasing while I sat in an armchair, once with me standing over her as she knelt by the bed, her hair wrapped around my fist. Each time she grew bolder, experimenting with her tongue on my balls, trying to take me deeper into her throat, rubbing her own dripping cunt the entire time until she came with my cock in her mouth.
By the time the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, she was thoroughly drunk, thoroughly used, and thoroughly happy—curled against me with cum drying on her breasts and a smile on her lips.
“Thomas,” she murmured sleepily, “we must do this every night while they’re away. And perhaps… find ways when they return. I don’t think I can stop wanting my brother’s cock now.”
I stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “Nor should you, my hot, perfect sister. This is only the beginning.”
Outside, the modern world of 1908 stirred—motor cars on distant roads, telegrams bringing news of changing times. Inside our house, the oldest taboo burned brighter than ever.
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