The clock on my nightstand glowed 12:15 AM, when I woke up.

It casted a dim red light over where Alex slept soundly beside me, his soft snores a rhythmic reminder of the life I was supposed to be building.  But my mind was a whirlwind of filthy cravings, replaying the pool party blowjob while the sensations of Ben's thick cock stretching my throat, his cum coating my tongue assaulted my senses. 

It didn't matter how much I fingered myself, my pussy throbbed with unmet need, slick and aching under the sheets.

I could wake Alex, beg him to fuck me but I know how gentle he'd be, how he'd hold me and I didn't want that. 

Only Ben could give me what I wanted. 

I stifled a groan. I couldn't take it anymore.  Fuck the guilt; I needed Ben inside me right fucking now. 

Slipping out of bed quietly, I threw on a simple nightgown, naked underneath with the thin fabric clinging to my curves and grabbed my phone. 

The excuse was weak: "I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk around the compound." I didn't wonder if Alex would buy it if he woke up and read my text to him.  But I couldn't care about that now. He didn't stir as I tiptoed out, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement.

The walk down the long dark halls of the Thompson mansion was torture. The cool night air seeped through the windows, hardening my nipples against the gown, while my thighs rubbed together, slick with arousal.  Every turn felt like I'd run into a servant, every closed door felt like it would open and I'd be exposed. But it only drove me forward, my mind flooding with images of Ben's rugged face buried between my legs, his tongue devouring me. 

By the time I stopped outside his room, my pussy was dripping down my legs. 

I texted him: "Need advice on wedding stuff. You up?" 

His reply was instant: "Door's unlocked. Come in."

I pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit space. Ben's room was a bachelor's wet dream: leather couch, big-screen TV, scattered beer bottles, and the faint musk of his cologne hanging in the air like an invitation. 

He lounged on the couch in gray sweatpants and a tank top, his muscular arms flexed as he poured two glasses of whiskey from a bottle on the coffee table. 

His dark eyes lit up when he saw me, that cocky smirk spreading across his lips. "Wedding advice, huh? At midnight and dressed in that?" I closed the door behind me, my cheeks flushing under his gaze.

The room was warm, the air thick with tension, and I could already feel my resolve crumbling. 

"Shut up," I muttered, but there was no bite to it. I sat beside him on the couch, our thighs brushing, the heat from his body seeping into mine.

He handed me a glass, the amber liquid swirling as our fingers touched, sending a spark straight to my core.  The whiskey burned going down, smooth and smoky, warming my belly and loosening the last of my guilt. 

He filled my glass again and we clinked glasses, his eyes never leaving mine. "To family secrets," he toasted, his voice low and gravelly.

Ben's hand rested on my knee, casual at first, then inching higher, his rough palm sliding under my gown. 

"Should we get down to business?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against my neck, carrying the sharp scent of whiskey and his natural musk.

"We know you came because that pretty pussy of yours is aching for me. Admit it." I shivered, my nipples pebbling hard, visible through the thin fabric.

"Maybe," I whispered, but my body betrayed me, parting my legs slightly as his fingers traced up my inner thigh.

He chuckled darkly, his hand cupping my smooth flesh, finding me bare and soaked. "No panties? You naughty, naughty girl." His middle finger dipped into my folds, slick with my juices, circling my clit with teasing pressure.

I gasped, arching into his touch, the sensation electric-rough and insistent, nothing like Alex's gentle caresses.

Before I could beg, Ben shoved me back onto the couch with a growl, the leather cool against my heated skin. He hiked my gown up over my hips, exposing my shaved pussy, glistening in the low light. 

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned, his eyes hungry as he spread my thighs wide, hooking my legs over his shoulders.

The position left me vulnerable, my ass slightly lifted, my holes on full display.  He dove in like a man starved, his mouth latching onto my pussy with impatient hunger.

His tongue was everywhere-lapping at my folds, delving deep into my entrance, tasting my essence with sloppy, wet sounds that filled the room.

The stubble on his jaw scraped my sensitive inner thighs, a delicious burn that made me squirm. "Oh God, Ben," I moaned, my hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer. 

He sucked my clit into his mouth, flicking it with the flat of his tongue, rapid and relentless, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through me.

The whiskey on his breath mixed with my musky scent, intoxicating.  But he didn't stop there-his hand slid lower, a finger circling my tight asshole, teasing the puckered hole.

"You like that, don't you? My future sister-in-law wants her ass played with." He pushed in slowly, the intrusion burning at first, then blooming into ecstasy as he worked his finger deeper, knuckle by knuckle, while his tongue assaulted my clit.

I was lost, grinding my soaked pussy against his face, coating his chin and lips with my juices.

The wet slurping sounds were obscene, echoing off the walls, mixed with my desperate whimpers.

"More, Ben-fuck, please, finger my ass harder!" I begged, my voice breaking, filthy things spilling from my lips like a dam burst. "Eat my cunt, you bastard-make me cum on your face like the whore I am!" 

He obliged, adding a second finger to my ass, stretching me, pumping in rhythm with his tongue. The dual sensation was overwhelming-my pussy clenching, my asshole gripping his fingers, building pressure like a coil ready to snap. My tits heaved with each breath, nipples aching for attention.

I pinched them through my dress, twisting hard, the pain amplifying the pleasure. Ben's free hand reached up, yanking the buttons down to expose my breasts, his palm slapping one roughly before kneading it. 

"These tits are mine tonight," he mumbled against my clit, vibrations sending me higher. I screamed as the orgasm hit, raw and explosive.

My body shook, pussy squirting juices onto his tongue, asshole spasming around his fingers. 

"Fuck yes!"

Waves crashed over me, leaving me trembling, breathless, but he didn't stop until I pushed him away, oversensitive and spent.

Ben rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his face slick with my release. His sweatpants tented, his cock straining against the fabric. 

"My turn," he growled, shoving them down to free his massive dick-thick, veined, the head angry red and leaking pre-cum. I licked my lips, still buzzing from my climax, as he straddled my chest, his balls heavy against my sternum.

"Gonna fuck these perfect tits, Heather. Squeeze them around my cock."

I obeyed, cupping my breasts, pushing them together to form a tight channel. He spat on my cleavage, the warm glob mixing with my sweat, then slid his cock between them, the heat of him searing my skin. 

He thrust slowly at first, the slick slide hypnotic, his balls dragging over my ribs with each pump. "Look at that-your tits were made for this," he grunted, picking up speed.

The friction built, his cockhead peeking out at the top with every stroke, brushing my chin.  He slapped his dick against my nipples, the wet smacks echoing, making them sting deliciously.

"Harder," I moaned, loving it. "Slap my tits with that big cock-" He did, alternating thrusts with slaps-left nipple, right, the pain blooming into heat that shot straight to my core. 

My pussy clenched emptily, fresh arousal dripping down my thighs. Ben's breaths came ragged, his abs flexing, sweat beading on his chest.

"Gonna cum all over your pretty face, slut. Open your mouth-stick out your tongue."  I did, eager, as he pulled back, stroking his cock furiously.

The first splash hit my cheek, hot and thick, followed by another on my forehead, dripping into my hair. He aimed lower, coating my lips and tongue, the salty taste flooding my mouth.

"Swallow what you can," he ordered, milking the last drops onto my chin. I did, savoring his essence, feeling it dry sticky on my skin as he smeared it with his thumb, marking me like property. 

"My cum looks good on you," he said, smirking.

We collapsed, panting, the room reeking of our juices and whiskey.  But as the high faded, guilt crept back in and I knew I couldn't stay.

I fixed my dress, cum still glistening on my face, and stood. 

"Running back to the calm brother?" 

I reached the door and before I slipped out, I hissed at him. "This is the last time." 

I vowed to myself as I picked my way back to our room.