Brother’s sudden apology left Yang Mengyao at a loss for words. She stared blankly at the face before her—familiar yet strangely distant.
She had daydreamed about this moment countless times as a child, fantasizing that if her brother ever apologized, she would huff proudly and snap back, “Who cares about your apology? You think I even give a damn?”
But reality rarely matched her imagination. Years of pent-up grievances surged up from the depths of her heart like a flash flood. Her pure, pretty face flushed, her eyes reddening with unshed tears. Unable to hold back any longer, she threw herself into her brother’s arms, pounding on his chest as sobs escaped her lips.
“Why are you only apologizing now? Do you know how wronged I felt as a kid? I liked you so much, Brother, but you bullied me along with everyone else! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! Waaah…”
Her soft body pressed against him, her faint girlish fragrance filling his nose. Her ample, plush breasts rubbed against his chest. A rush of heat stirred in Yang Haoran’s groin, his member swelling slightly from the stimulation.
Beast, he cursed himself inwardly, his heart flooding with guilt and shame. To have a reaction like this to his own little sister?
This was different from what had happened with Mom. She had been the one taking the initiative, and there had been that porn playing at the time.
Though Yang Haoran berated himself in his mind, wicked thoughts still crept in unbidden. Especially as he gazed at his sister’s pure, beautiful face in his arms—streaked with tears, so pitiful and delicate. Pity stirred in him, but so did dark urges, a savage impulse to dominate and ravage the girl cradled against him.
The world’s purest beauties were often the ones that most easily awakened the evil lurking deep in the human heart—the desire to corrupt and destroy perfection. That was the darkness of human nature, the root of all vice.
Yang Haoran hadn’t lost his reason entirely. He suppressed his evil impulses and urges until his sister’s sobs gradually faded.
“There, there, Little Yaoyao. No more crying.” Yang Haoran let out a breath of relief. He reached up to stroke her silky, smooth hair and teased, “Keep it up and you’ll turn into a little tabby cat. Remember that one? The ugly freak-looking kitty!”
“Hmph!” Yang Mengyao broke into a smile through her tears. She huffed softly, “You’re the ugly freak, Brother. You’re just as hatefully ugly as one.”
With that, she raised her dainty fist in playful anger, as if to punch him again. She paused for a second, then slowly lowered it.
“Yeah, yeah! Brother’s an ugly freak!”
Yang Haoran nodded hurriedly. He’d finally gotten her to stop crying—he didn’t want to set her off again.
“Does it hurt, Brother?”
Yang Mengyao’s slender hand gently caressed his chest, a flicker of guilt and concern in her eyes.
In her emotional outburst earlier, she had really hammered him several times.
“Heh heh… Nah, it doesn’t hurt. But my heart kinda does. Give Brother’s heart a rub too, Yaoyao.”
“Hmph. Mom was right—you’re just itching for a beating, Brother.”
“No way…” came a feeble attempt at protest.
The siblings bantered and played around for a bit, making up fully. Yang Mengyao forced her brother to swear he’d never bully her again or make her cry. She even huffed that if he didn’t agree, she wouldn’t tutor him anymore.
Yang Haoran could only agree with a wry smile.
…
After tidying up, the two headed to Yang Haoran’s room.
Yang Haoran sat in his computer chair, flipping through his notebook, while his sister paced beside him like a stern proctor, supervising and answering his questions.
Laughter like tinkling silver bells occasionally rang out.
“Brother, you’re so dumb. The teacher explained this like three times.”
“This one’s easy…”
“You can’t just make me do all the talking. Use your brain too, Brother.”
“You say you get it? Hmph, I don’t believe you.”
“I’m gonna give you some problems to test you.”
Then came the scratch of pen on paper. Ten minutes later, a certain someone handed the sheet to the teenage girl with full confidence.
“First one’s wrong. It should be like this…” Her voice held a hint of amusement.
“Second one’s wrong too.”
“You got the approach right on this one, but the math’s off.”
“This one’s correct.”
“Wrong again.”
“This one too.”
“Not bad. Seven out of ten wrong.”
As soon as she said it, Yang Mengyao saw her brother’s dejected expression and quickly encouraged him.
“Brother, just memorize the formulas for math first. Once you’ve got them down, you can solve these by plugging into the formulas.”
…
Under his sister’s patient guidance, Yang Haoran picked up quite a few key concepts. But as time passed, an inexplicable heat and swelling built in his groin. He swore he was fully immersed in studying, soaking up knowledge like a sponge without a single stray thought—yet his cock kept growing harder and harder.
Now it stood rigid as a pillar, tenting his pants obscenely. At first, he could clamp his legs together to hide it, but it was getting unbearable.
His cock throbbed like a volcano on the verge of eruption, burning hot and itchy. His body temperature rose, cheeks flushing, fine sweat beading on his forehead.
Soon, Yang Mengyao noticed something off. Seeing her brother’s face beet-red and drenched in sweat, she jumped in alarm.
“Brother, what’s wrong?”
Yang Haoran was burning with lust now. Gazing at his sister’s pure, pretty face only fueled the fire, dark thoughts blooming as a seductive whisper echoed in his mind.
Take her down.
Take her down.
Take her down.
The chants pounded in his skull, splitting his head with pain. He tumbled from the computer chair in agony, crashing to the floor. His pants tented high.
“Brother, hang on! I’ll get Mom!” His sister’s panicked voice snapped him back.
“No… Little Yaoyao.” He grabbed her leg as she turned to go, mustering his willpower. But his cock felt dusted with itching powder—unbearably scratchy.
Staring at her innocent face, combined with the torment below, Yang Haoran clung to his last shred of sanity, refusing to become a beast driven by lust.
But the itching was too much. Gasping for breath, he rasped, “Yaoyao, quick—take off my pants.”
Yang Mengyao finally noticed the massive bulge. Hearing his words, she panicked, thinking something had bitten him down there. She hurriedly yanked down his pants.
As pants and underwear came off, a scorching, flushed, thick cock sprang free, nearly slapping her face.
It was long and girthy—sixteen or seventeen centimeters at least, far bigger than before. The shaft was as thick as a baby’s arm, veined like writhing snakes. The egg-sized head was brutal and menacing.
“Br… Brother.” Yang Mengyao’s voice trembled. She stared fearfully at the swollen, massive meat stick. She’d learned biology; she knew it was a penis. But she never imagined her brother’s would be this huge and intimidating.
Yang Haoran couldn’t care less that his sister was watching. His right hand instinctively gripped his cock and started stroking.
Yang Mengyao stared blankly at the sight—her brother jerking off right in front of her?
But that thought vanished quickly. His condition seemed tied to his cock. He’d hurt it before; maybe this was a complication?
His practiced right hand pumped away, but his body was feverish—even his hand felt warm. Against the volcano-hot cock, it barely scratched the itch. The heat raged on.
“Little Yaoyao, help Brother out.” With no choice, Yang Haoran turned to his sister.
He’d just reconciled with her. Despite the overwhelming lust, he didn’t want to defile her. Otherwise, he’d have pounced when the fire first started—instead of holding out until it consumed him like this.
Seeing her brother’s agonized face twisted Yang Mengyao’s heart with pain. Panicked, she cried, “Brother, how do I do it?”
“Grip it… Stroke it up and down like I did. Hurry…”
Yang Haoran gasped raggedly. He felt like he’d popped a Viagra with no release in sight—pure torment.
