Game Over Pt. 01

Game Over

The only light in Mike's room came from the monitor and keyboard, casting shifting colors across his face, highlighting the intense concentration etched to the game. Sounds could be heard through his headphones of gunfire and frantic comms chatter, punctuated by his own muttered curses and laughter. Twenty-five, brunette, little nerdy, lost in the world of games, oblivious. The rest of the house was quiet, late night settling in. He shared the place, awkwardly, with Ella - his half-sister, twenty-two, a woman of black clothes, blacker eyeliner, and a quiet intensity that always left him slightly off-balance. They didn't talk much. They coexisted. But he was always aware of her presence.

He didn't hear her come in over the headset's noise. Only sensed a shift in the room's energy, a presence beside his chair. He flinched, ready to snap at the interruption, pulling one side of the headset off. And there she was.

Ella. Dressed in ripped black jeans, an oversized band shirt swallowing her frame, her dark hair falling partially over the thick black frames of her glasses. She just stood there, watching him, her expression unreadable in the dim glow from the screen.

"What?" he asked, annoyed at being pulled from his game, yet also... curious. She rarely sought him out.

She didn't answer. Instead, she slowly sank to her knees beside his chair. His annoyance turned instantly to confusion, then to a jolt of something else. Something hot and forbidden, as her intent became clear. Her hands reached out, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, resting on his thighs near his crotch.

"Ella, what the--?" he started, but couldn't finish as she leaned forward, her glasses almost falling and began fumbling with the drawstring of his shorts. Her fingers brushed against his already hardening cock through the fabric, sending an electric shock straight up his spine. He froze, game forgotten, heart hammering against his ribs. This isn't happening. Half-sister. Stop her. But he didn't move. Couldn't.

She pulled his shorts and boxers down clumsily, freeing him. His cock sprang out, thick and heavy, pulsing in the cool air. Ella looked at it for a moment, her usual guarded expression replaced by something darker, hungrier. Then she leaned down, her dark hair curtaining her face, and took the head into her mouth.

Her lips were soft, hesitant at first. Then she seemed to commit, her mouth closing more firmly, sucking experimentally. He gasped, gripping the arms of his chair, knuckles white. The initial sensation was wet, hot and overwhelmingly intimate. He could smell her faint, unique scent - maybe cloves and something metallic.

She wasn't skilled, not in a practiced way. It was messy from the start. Her sucking was eager but slightly uncoordinated, generating way too much saliva that quickly coated him, dripping down onto his shaft, pooling slightly where her lips met his skin. He could hear the wet, slurping sounds clearly now, mingling with the distant gunfire and his friends shouting from his abandoned game. Her glasses steamed up slightly, and she occasionally had to pull back, gasping for air, leaving slick trails on his skin.

But gods, the feeling. The sheer wetness, the heat of her mouth, the slightly rough texture of her tongue... and then he felt it. Something unusual. A flicker, a strange dual sensation against the underside of his shaft. He risked a glance down, pushing her hair back slightly. Her tongue darted out, licking up his length, and he saw it clearly - the distinct split down the middle. A snakes tognue. He hadn't known. The revelation sent another jolt, sharp and perverse, through him.

Now he could feel both tips working him, sometimes together, sometimes independently, one flicking at his frenulum while the other explored the ridge of the head. It was intensely stimulating, maddeningly different. Driven by some unspoken signal, or maybe just her own horny needs, she started taking him deeper.

He felt the pressure build as she worked her way down his shaft, her throat muscles tightening. She gagged slightly the first time she took him fully, pulling back quickly, coughing softly. But then she went right back, more determined this time. She took him deep again, her throat wet, sucking hard.. He groaned, a low, guttural sound torn from his chest, his hands instinctively reaching down, fisting in her dark hair. He didn't pull her off; he pulled her closer, deeper.

It was sloppy, deep, intense. Her glasses were completely fogged now. Saliva and pre-cum slicked his entire length, dripping onto his leg, onto the floor. She worked him relentlessly, the split tongue adding its unique pleasure, her throat milking him with surprising strength each time she took him deep. He was losing it, the forbidden nature of the act drowned out by the overwhelming physical sensations. The sounds were inase - wet sucking, her occasional gasps for air, his own harsh groans echoing in the small room.

He felt the climax building, hot and unstoppable, coiling tight in his balls. "Ella... fuck... I'm gonna..." he choked out.

She seemed to understand, her pace quickening, sucking harder, deeper, taking all of him in a final, desperate pull. He roared, arching in his chair while pushing Ella's head deeper, as release ripped through him, hot ropes of semen flooding the back of her throat. He felt her swallow convulsively, once, twice, taking it all down without breaking contact until the last pulse faded.

She stayed there for a moment, head resting against his thigh, breathing heavily. Then, slowly, she pulled back, lifting her head. Her lips were wet, slightly swollen. A string of saliva connected her mouth to the head of his still-throbbing cock. She used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth roughly, leaving a faint smear. Her glasses were hopelessly fogged; she pushed them up her nose with one finger. Her dark eyes, finally visible, locked onto his. They weren't shy or hesitant now. They burned with a challenging heat.

"Come to bed, Mike," she whispered, her voice confident "Let's do something... more."