The Gentiles

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The last time I’ve emptied myself was two nights ago when I’ve jacked myself off after hearing Callie’s soft moans in her own bedroom.

I couldn’t sleep at night and I had gotten up from bed with the pretense of bothering her, and also, spending time with her had always been a bliss.

During her recuperation, she spent her nights reading up until the wee hours of the morning. No matter how I wished I had been there with her the whole time, I have school to attend and assignments to finish that I had to work really hard on now that I’m approaching graduation.

I had expected Callie to be curled up adorably in her fluffy covers, a book in hand, or her Kindle. Perhaps her phone if she was reading from one of those apps that I found silly.

First time that I tried it I read about a polygamous werewolf romance and I hadn’t looked at the app ever since. I don’t know what other kind of freaky shit Callie was into, but she’d be mortified if she found out I knew about the things she read.

I’d be happy to indulge her, though.

That night had been the last time that she’d been able to do that before she goes back to school. On the other hand, I always sleep on time, having to get up early as usual to prepare breakfast before leaving.

It was fun doing that and I love serving Callie because the girl can’t cook shit for the life of her. If making a sandwich is even considered cooking but, nah.

She’s lucky I enjoy feeding her, pretending we’re a couple getting ready for work instead of attending high school.

One of the many perks of her parents always not being home.

I get to take care of her.

And that responsibility was the main reason of my denial.

Even as I passed by her door from time to time each night and heard her cumming and then sighing in bliss, I had to restrain myself.

That wasn’t the case two nights ago, however.

My feet didn’t rush to quietly go back to my room and biting onto my knuckles, cursing myself for thinking such dirty thoughts about my own cousin.

I didn’t charm another girl, used her as she’d used me, or, in some rare occasions, tried to direct my forbidden desires toward her in an attempt to stomp on the only ever-growing lust and love I feel for the girl who had treated me as her brother and trusted me to protect her.

No. After the events of her getting hurt and me thinking how what happened could have resulted in me losing her completely, I had gotten a different resolve.

That night, I went back calmly to my room, closed the door, faced the wall between my room from hers, and took my erection out, aiming it at where her position would be lying on her own bed probably with her lovely legs splayed out, bent at the knees, thighs shivering in pleasure.

I stroked my length, slowly at first as the image of her materialized in my head ever so vividly it was almost as if she was there on my bed, presenting her body to me like the perfect little gift that she is, devoid of any inhibitions.

My fist pumped harder as her moans intensified and it was the single most wonderful thing I had ever experienced in my life, cumming with Callie, thinking it was her tight pussy I was spurting my spend on instead of my fist.

I almost fell on the floor and had to brace myself on the wall with one arm, my hand slackened by the sheer magnitude from that one single orgasm.

Not only that. I was still semi-hard, and I would have had to deal with it myself as the little nymph had obviously already gone to sleep.

Then I got such a fucking brilliant idea.

Callie not locking her door was a habit reinforced to her by her parents.

No secrets. No hiding.

They didn’t count for her bravery as she openly pleasures herself knowing full well that someone might walk in on her.

I waited twenty agonizing minutes to make sure that Callie was deep in her sleep before creeping out as quietly as I possibly can out my bedroom. I didn’t have to worry about carrying my feet because of the carpeted hallway floors and before the blood completely returned to my brain and had me thinking more rationally and had me backing out.

Careful not to make the door creak, I pushed it open, and it took no effort at all for my eyes to find her sleeping form in the dim light coming from her lamp.

That night ended with me rubbing one off once again right beside Callie’s bed, all the while itching to undress her, hiking the hem of her white too-short night shirt and cum all over her creamy, soft skin.

All this time I have longed to make her mine and such a lewd action just might satisfy my needs, a need to have something of me on her.

My eyes found hers, ever so radiant within the morning sun streaks escaping the soft covers of her curtain. Breathing and lying here so close beside her on her bed right now, all the possibilities seemed to flood my mind in a torrent of punches.

Me offering her the whole world and more.

Her bearing our children.

Us living together without any consequences or prejudice.

I see myself claiming her, holding her, making her mine.

My Callie.

Whatever the world claims, what we are feeling for each other could not have been wrong. Pray, tell, when was is ever wrong to love? Whoever slated the commandment that falling in love with your family is wrong?

If anything, it should have been greater than the love for a stranger. At least mine is.

I grew up protecting this girl, taking care of her and making sure she never cried or get upset. I watch her evolution into what she is now, and I’d be damned if this is where I stop.

I admire the strong, smart girl that she is, and love the way she depends on me.

She makes me laugh and she makes whatever troubles I may have in my restless brain calm down.

She’s my home.

***Author’s Note***

Shout out to my first ever reviewer and commenter, Wanda (wanda49)! Thank you for your kind words and genuine interest in my work.

I know I just announced that I’d be uploading one chapter a week... But I updated this book earlier than scheduled because I was just so excited reading the comments and the review ☺️

I am so glad to have such wonderful and supportive readers and now, I have more than just my passion to hold on to when I am writing; I have you as both my inspiration and my motivation.

Wanda, if you’re reading this, I hope you like this chapter.




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