#Exhibitionist #Incest #Teen
Thirteen year old Emma discovers the joy of the spin cycle…
Thirteen year old Emma stumbled into the laundry room, her socks sliding on the cool tiles as she fought the weight of the basket full of dirty clothes. She had been putting it off for days, but her mom’s voice echoed in her head, a reminder of the chore that could no longer be ignored. With a dramatic sigh, she plopped the basket down and surveyed the mountain before her.
The washing machine hummed in the corner, mid-cycle, its rhythmic vibrations a comforting white noise in the otherwise quiet house. Emma approached the appliance, her hand hovering over the lid. It felt warm, the vibrations thrumming through her palm and up her arm.
Her curiosity piqued, she sat down on top of the machine, the vibrations pulsing through the seat of her pajama bottoms. It was a peculiar sensation, not unpleasant, in fact, quite the opposite. Emma felt a tingling warmth spreading through her body, a feeling she had never encountered before. She leaned back, her eyes slipping shut, and let the vibrations wash over her.
The intensity grew as the washing machine spun faster, and Emma’s breath hitched. Her heart rate sped up, mimicking the machine’s tempo. Her legs began to tremble, and she felt an odd pressure building in her stomach, a knot that tightened with every spin. It was strange, but she didn’t want it to stop. She braced herself with one hand on the cold metal surface, the other clutching the edge of laundry tub for balance.
Her cheeks flushed, and she slid off the machine, her body craving more of that peculiar sensation. Standing next to the washing machine, she leaned in, the fabric of her pajamas pulling tight as she pressed her clit against the vibration. The feeling was more intense now, a thrumming pleasure that shot through her core. Her eyes widened as she realized she could control the sensation by moving her body slightly.
Emma’s breath grew ragged, her chest rising and falling in sync with the machine’s pulse. The vibrations grew stronger, and she felt the pressure building to an unbearable crescendo. Her legs felt like jelly, and she gripped the laundry sink for support. The room seemed to spin around her, the walls blurring as the washer’s rhythm overtook her senses.
Her curiosity turned to urgency, and Emma hastily slid down her pajama bottoms and panties, feeling the cool metal of the washing machine against her bare skin. She pressed her clit firmly against the cold metal, and a shockwave of pleasure surged through her. “Fuck,” she whispered, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt the sensation intensify.
Her hand found its way to her chest, her heart hammering in her ribcage like a wild animal trying to escape. She pinched her nipple, rolling it between her fingers, and the dual stimulation sent her spiraling closer to the edge. The washing machine’s vibrations grew more intense with each passing moment, and so did the feeling deep within her belly.
Emma felt a desperate need to maintain contact with the machine. She awkwardly reached around her backside, her arm contorting as she slid her fingers into the warm wetness of her pussy from behind, leaning foward slightly to give her better access. She experimented, pushing and circling, trying to find the perfect spot to match the vibrations.
Her breath grew quicker and shallower, and she felt a strange, pulsing heat between her legs that grew stronger with every second. Her toes curled in her socks as she pushed her hips into the the washing machine, her moans growing louder, echoing in the small, tiled room.
Her pussy was so wet that her fingers made a squelching sound as they slid in and out of her. The vibrations from the washing machine syncing perfectly with her own rhythm. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, a crescendo of pleasure that she didn’t know could come from her own body.
The tension grew, coiling tighter and tighter until suddenly, it snapped. A powerful wave of ecstasy crashed over her, stealing her breath away. She threw her head back, a scream lodged in her throat, and her body convulsed. Her legs gave out, but she remained upright, held by the tight grip she had on the sink and the washing machine’s pulsing rhythm.
Tom, her 17–year-old brother, had come home early from football practice. He had expected to find the house empty, a perfect opportunity to crash on the couch and indulge in some video games before anyone returned.
As he stepped through the door, he was greeted not by silence, but by the faint sound of moaning. His first thought was that someone had left the TV on in the living room, but as he moved closer, the sound grew louder and more distinct. It was definitely coming from the laundry room, and it was definitely not the TV.
Tom peered around the corner, his eyes widening in shock at the sight before him. There was his kid sister Emma, her back arched, her pajama bottoms pooled around her ankles, and her fingers buried deep inside her wet pussy. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and she was grinding herself against the washing machine.
He knew he should look away, that it was wrong to spy on her like this, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the erotic scene unfolding. The vibrations from the machine were causing her to quiver and moan louder, her body a canvas of ecstasy. He felt his own cock stiffen in his shorts, his mind racing with thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having about his kid sister.
Tom’s hand unconsciously drifted to his crotch, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of Emma, so innocent yet so sexual, was unlike anything he had ever seen before. His grip on his cock tightened, his eyes never leaving her. He watched as her hips bucked against the washing machine, her breaths coming in quick, desperate gasps.
He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but his body had a mind of its own. He pulled down the front his shorts, his cock springing free, and began to stroke it in time with her movements. The guilt washed over him, but the thrill was too intense to ignore. The sight of Emma’s pubescent pussy lips shimmering with her juices, the way she bit her bottom lip, the little noises she made, it was all too much.
Her climax grew closer, the washing machine’s vibrations reaching a peak that matched her own. She was lost in the moment, her face a mask of pleasure and concentration. The room was filled with the sound of her moans and the wet slap of her hand against her skin. Tom’s cock was now rock hard, and he stroked it faster, his eyes glued to the erotic spectacle before him.
As if sensing his presence, Emma’s eyes flicked open, locking onto his. For a moment, she froze, a look of horror and embarrassment crossing her face. But then she saw his erection, the way he was touching himself, and something in her expression changed. She doesn’t rush to cover up or flee. Instead, she bites her lip and watches him with a newfound curiosity, her eyes dark with a mix of shock and arousal.
Emma continues to slowly finger herself, driven now by the forbidden thrill of being watched. She knew she should be ashamed, but instead, she felt a powerful surge of exhibitionism, a need to show Tom what she could do. She spead her legs a little wider, her cheeks flushing even more as she watched his hand pumping up and down his shaft in rhythm with her own movements.
Tom’s eyes were glued to the sight of his sister’s young body writhing in pleasure. He couldn’t believe she was letting him see her like this, and he felt a dark thrill run through him. He stroked himself faster, the head of his cock glistening with precum. The pressure built in his balls until he couldn’t hold it back any longer.
With a strangled groan, Tom erupted. Thick ropes of cum shot out, painting the tiles and the base of the washing machine. The sight of his release sent a shiver down Emma’s spine. She watched, mesmerized, as her brother’s semen spurted onto the floor, the white droplets stark against the black tiles.
The washing machine’s cycle came to an end, the room falling into a tense silence broken only by their heavy breathing. Emma slowly pulled up her pajama bottoms, her cheeks still flushed, and she looked at Tom, whose eyes were wide with disbelief and arousal. She knew she should be embarrassed, but she felt something else—exhilaration.
With a soft, knowing smile, she stepped away from the washing machine, her legs wobbly from the intense climax. She walked past her brother, her hips swaying slightly, and kissed him on the cheek.
“You should clean that up,” she whispered, her light. “You know how Mum hates a mess.”
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#Exhibitionist #Incest #Teen