I’ll get back to the blonde but I think it’s important to understand the relationship my sister Jenny and I shared. It had changed once we crossed the line separating what is considered normal and what is not and now, after what had happened that night, I was totally preoccupied with figuring out how I was going to take this to the next level. Part of it was hormonal, I was at the age when I’d fuck anything in a skirt and the other part was my developing obsession with incest.
Playing doctor as kids and exploring each other’s privates in some dark cubbyhole or indulging in a show and tell is okay as long as the exploratory touching didn’t lead to masturbation or sex. Then it becomes taboo. I’m not sure how or who established these boundaries but we had officially crossed it the night of the storm.
The morning after the incident was the worst. At some point during the night my sister had left my bed and that was something she had never done before. This could only mean that she was upset and would rather deal with her innate fear of lightning and thunder than with my sexual advances. I felt certain that she would confide in my mother, they were closer than two peas in a pod, and though that would be unimaginably embarrassing, I could deal with it. It was my father that I was worried about.
Dad was a different animal altogether. He was an Army Ranger and had a temper which turned him into a fuckin’ Neanderthal. If she said something to him, I was dead, I mean, baseball bat to the head dead! But, I doubt Jen was comfortable enough to discuss anything sexual with him so at least for now my bones were intact. It would only be a matter of time before Mom got around to: ‘You know, dear, your son’s trying to fuck your daughter’ or something to that effect but I would deal with that when it happened. Right now, I needed to figure out what I was going to say to Mom and Jenny.
What the fuck was I going to say? I’m sorry but it wasn’t me! It was Mr. Mushroom-head … he made me do it? And, Jenny, you have to believe me, sis, the rubber rat will never again regurgitate on your panties. Never, never, never! Damn, I was dreading this.
I fussed around in my room waiting for my parents to leave for work but that wasn’t happening. I could hear them; they were still there. I glanced impatiently at my watch – what the fuck were they doing? Mom and Dad should have been gone by now! They had to be discussing what had happened. That could be the only reason why they were still at home. My mind raced and my heart felt like a jackhammer on speed. My father was going to kill me! And that’s when I realized it was a Saturday. Though that provided a much needed reprieve, guilt and paranoia make for conniving bedfellows and I still needed to be sure.
I left the door ajar, listening intently, hoping to get the gist of what was being said but except for a few words most of the conversation wafting up was garbled. And then I heard peals of laughter, it was Mom and Jen – I doubt they would have been laughing if Jenny had spilled the beans. I figured that unless I was planning to feign mortal illness, I had better get my ass down there and this was as good a time as any.
I made a quick stop in Jenny’s room and rummaged through her laundry hamper looking for the corroborative evidence of our little escapade. I found several other panties mixed in with her clothes but not the one I had spewed into. I was about to check her bathroom when I heard more laughter and footsteps coming towards the stairway. Returning everything to the way it was, and after one final look around her room, I trudged down to the kitchen.
“Hi, sleepy head,” my sister said, greeting me in her usual upbeat manner shocking the hell out of me.
Even if she hadn’t said anything to my parents I was certain she’d be embarrassed and would avoid me like the plague. But, here she was acting perfectly normal, as though nothing had happened. I can’t explain the relief I felt. It was simply overwhelming.
I gave her a quick look and grunted making my way to the cabinet above the fridge to get the cornflakes. I was floating on air feeling like a death-row inmate who had just been granted amnesty!
“Late night?” Dad asked, peering over the Wall Street Journal. It was something he did religiously; scouring the stocks and worrying about his investments. I swear the man should have been a stockbroker.
“Yeah, I have a couple of papers I need to submit,” I grunted in his direction and wondered what he’d think if he knew about the research I had done on his daughter.
I was about to get the milk when my mother came over and hugged me and took the cereal box away, “Sit down, baby, I’m making you an omelet. Here, drink this – fresh, squeezed orange juice.”
Mom was a health nut. She was tall and slender and looked a lot younger than she was. She was blessed with the paedomorphic trait found in Northern Europeans, an agelessness that would make the troglodytes at school go – Man, your mom’s hot! It used to make me want to stomp their nuts but what are you going to do? They were right, Mom was hot! I sometimes wonder how my parents got together – they were so different. Mom was a bleeding heart liberal, beautiful and gentle, and Dad was a rightwing hard-ass, the Great Santini himself. I guess opposites do attract.
“Don’t forget, we are going for the play tonight,” Dad reminded, “it wasn’t easy getting tickets for the Phantom! And I’ve made reservations for dinner at Marco’s. Read up on Galicia; Northwestern Spain.”
This was something we did every month – catch a play, Broadway or Off-Broadway, and usually a dinner afterwards. It was family time and a tradition that none of us were permitted to break unless we were near death. Mom chose the plays and Dad, the restaurants. He wanted us to learn about different cuisines and cultures. We were expected to research the country and the region and come up with interesting facts to discuss over dinner. We also had to dress up – no jeans or tee shirts and definitely no sneakers. We had to look decent – his words not mine.
“I’m meeting Celia and Liz at ten and then we have Volleyball practice in the afternoon,” Jenny said grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, “so I’ll see you all in the evening. I know something about the Island of Cortegada we can talk about!”
She added the last part for my benefit with a ‘I know something you don’t’ look before hugging Dad, leaning over him from behind the chair, then Mom, giving her a peck on the cheek. Jenny was as tall as my mother now and they could’ve easily passed for sisters.
My mother held her at arms-length and cooed, “Just look at you! You’re growing up, honey, and so beautiful! Don’t you think so, dear?”
The last bit was aimed at my father who grunted without looking up. It must be a Salazar family trait, the grunting!
“Oh, Mom!” Jen protested and on her way out she stopped by the door and said, “What are you going to do, Cal? Isn’t Clay at his Uncle’s place?”
Ever since Karen, Clay’s sister, had died his parents were having problems and it wasn’t unusual for Clay to escape to Connecticut to stay with his uncle. Otherwise the two of us were inseparable.
“Yeah,” I replied nonchalantly, keeping my eyes averted. “I have some assignments I have to finish up … I’ll head for the library and then maybe hit the gym.”
“Are you okay, hon?” my mother quizzed a look of concern crossing her face, “You seem subdued.”
I gave Jenny a furtive glance before replying, trying to sound nonchalant but it was hard with images of last night tumbling in my head and Jenny standing there looking like a wet dream.
“I’m fine, Ma … just a bit stressed.”
“Tonight will be fun,” Mom said ruffling my hair on the way to the kitchen, “And why don’t you go watch your sister play?”
“Yeah, Cal, why don’t you come and watch us practice?” Jenny asked, “We have a new coach. She used to play for UCLA and she’s good. She thinks I’d make a perfect outside hitter!”
I looked at her wondering what she was up to, acting as though nothing had happened between us. It was unfair. She looked absolutely edible, dressed in a thin cotton top and a pair of jeans that was cut low exposing her little ‘inny’ belly button. It would have been a lot easier for me if I wasn’t so attracted to her.
But her attitude was bordering on the weird. It was messing with my head making me think that the whole thing was a figment of my imagination. Either she was a brilliant actress or she was suffering from RA, Retrograde Amnesia! Maybe the event so traumatized her that it caused a temporary loss of memory. However, no amount of amnesia was going to hide the reality of her panties. What did she do with those? I had drenched them with enough cum to starch those suckers for a lifetime! She had to know what had happened. I was so lost in thought I forgot about her standing there.
I looked at her, surprised, and said quickly, “Umm, I’ll see. What time?”
“Around one. We can go and get ice cream afterwards, so please try and come, pleaasssee!” she said, pleading, using her little girl voice.
“Okay, I’ll be there. It may be a bit after one but I’ll be there in time for the ice cream,” I relented, “How about that?”
“That works. You’re buying!” She beamed, stuck her tongue out at me and ran off.
So that was her ploy. She was going to talk to me after practice over ice cream. I was okay with that and was actually looking forward to it. We could clear the air and I could tell her how sorry I was and that would be that. Or, I could pretend that I suffered from retrograde amnesia too.
Volleyball practice was interesting, not the game itself but the players. Watching them jump around in their tiny shorts made me realize that half the girls on Jenny’s team were hot; sweltering hot! It was like a light being turned on. Those scrawny little twerps that used to hang out in her room and giggle each time I passed by were growing up and getting to be beautiful. Brought to mind that song: Thank God for little girls …
But for my money, Jenny was the thoroughbred, and yes, I am biased but damn, the girl was sweet! Long legs, tight round ass, small, firm tits and a full mouth that held a world of possibilities. And then there were the eyes, large, wide set, viridian pools that contrasted starkly with her silky, chestnut mane. I felt my cock lurch and had to tell myself to behave – I wasn’t going down that road again. I distracted myself by wondering about the other girls, what it would feel like to fuck them, one by one or all of them together in a mass orgy. There was this pretty, Asian gal that I could write a book on …
Jenny met me outside the gym hall after practice. It was a bit chilly and she had donned her track suit over her volleyball shorts and tee. Her face still glistened with remnants of a sweaty sheen, cheeks flushed, hair disheveled and no make-up and despite that she couldn’t have looked sexier. There as a wholesomeness about her, an all American sexiness that was hard to ignore and I wasn’t the only one, I noticed the guys, even the older men, giving her the once over.
“Hey, you looked great, sis,” I complimented.
“You just saying that,” she replied but I could tell that she enjoyed the attention.
I grabbed her gym bag and we decided to walk to the local ice cream parlor. The Waffle Shoppe was a small family owned eatery that served homemade ice cream and European style waffles. It was one of our favorite places to hangout. We were about halfway there when she took my hand in hers, fingers interlacing, and holding on tightly. She was humming softly to herself, gently swinging our arms in between us. She wasn’t one of those touchy people who displayed affection openly so it was apparent that the sexual machinations of the previous night hadn’t affected her as much as I thought or had it? This could be her way of sanctioning the direction our relationship was heading! I was thrilled.
When we got there, the place was unusually crowded; jam packed with families and kids and teenagers. It was almost impossible to hear yourself over the cacophony of the chatter and the synthesized sounds of kids screaming above shrieks of laughter. But the bustling raucous did provide us with a degree of anonymity.
We joined the serpentine queue along the counter literally jammed against each other.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” I asked, leaning down and speaking into her ear.
“No. It’ll be okay … it’s moving!” she answered looking up and smiling.
She was leaning back against me; her head resting lightly in the crook of my neck and with her ass pressed against my crotch. I was holding her loosely around the waist, my fingers under her track suit, tracing lazy patterns on the flare of her hips. We were standing more like lovers than siblings and there was no way I could avoid getting hard. I wondered what she was going on in her head as my cock pulsed against her. I exploited the crush to pull her tightly against me and felt her wiggling her butt a few times returning the pressure. It was all I could do to resist dry-humping her right there. She remained glued to me until we ordered and I was hoping that no one would notice the blatant tenting of my khakis.
We were about to sit outside when Jenny found a table in the corner by the window.
“I told you … and with perfect timing!” she said happily grabbing the chair nearest her.
We sat eating our ice cream making small talk. She had gotten her usual dish, something called Raspberry Nut Orgy – it was essentially vanilla ice cream with a swirl of raspberry and chock full of walnuts.
“Here have some,” she said raising a spoonful towards me.
I had tasted it before but I obliged her. It was good but a bit too sweet for my liking. I was a pistachio addict.
“Try mine,” I reciprocated. She held my hand gently, guiding the spoon into her mouth.
“Mmmm, that is good!” she said, smiling and used her napkin to wipe a little bit that had somehow smudged the tip of her nose.
“Did I get it all?”
I shook my head, “No.”
I used my napkin to get what she had missed, “You’re a mess, sis! I can’t take you anywhere!”
She blushed and giggled, “You did that on purpose! I know you did!”
She was blessed with a long neck and her breasts were getting fuller, not big but pleasantly plump. She was at that stage of metamorphosis, the quintessential in-between phase, of a girl and a woman bursting with estrogen-induced radiance that made her glow.
She saw me studying her and blushed, fidgeting with the ends of her hair and began chattering nervously making small talk. She was grown up in many ways but with the vulnerable naiveté of an ingénue. I couldn’t help myself – it elicited a sudden surge of protectiveness in me. We had always been close and she trusted me implicitly and for reasons I can’t explain, I felt like I was breaching that trust. I took her hand in mine and squeezed it, more to reassure myself than anything else. She smiled and squeezed back.
“You know, the girls here are all jealous … they think you’re my boyfriend!” she said, “A hunky, college guy!”
“What girls?” I said looking around. I was so focused on her that I hadn’t notice anyone else.
She rolled her eyes like ‘yeah, right!’ and then made a motion with her head towards the adjacent table, “Those girls!”
The table was crammed with a coterie of high school girls, chattering and giggling, and looking our way every now and then. Young and fresh with a little too much make-up on; wanting to grow up a little too fast.
“They would have to be blind! We resemble each other way too much, don’t you think? Well, except for our eyes.” Mine were murky blue.
“And hair,” she countered.
Mine was very dark, almost black like my father’s, and hers was a light brown.
“Okay, I’ll give you that!”
“And nose, and mouth, and …” she joked. But despite some differences the reality was that we did resemble one another.
“Okay, then let’s give them something to really talk about!” I said and lifted her hand to my face and brushed the back of it with my lips, kissing her gently.
I think it surprised her. She stared at me, at her hand being held against my lips, her mouth parted slightly and her eyes wide. I kissed her hand again and then, without thinking, ran the tip of my tongue lightly along the crack between her fore and middle fingers. There was no mistaking the slanted implication, not even by her.
I heard her breath catch and she flamed up, and in a moment of confusion, gently withdrew her hand from mine. It provided me with the perfect segue to press home the advantage and broach the subject of the previous night.
I looked into her eyes and began, “Jen, about last night, I …”
“Don’t say anything, Cal, please,” she interrupted, “please don’t ruin it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ruin it? Ruin what?
“Jen, we can’t just ignore -” I started again.
“Please. Can’t we just enjoy this?” she cut me off again.
She quickly looked away, staring down at her ice cream bowl, her hair cascading around her while she toyed with the spoon. She looked adorable in a helpless sort of way and I didn’t want to upset her any further.
“Okay, let’s just drop it.” I offered lamely reaching across and lifting her face up by her chin, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
She perked up instantly and we spent the rest of the afternoon chatting about mundane stuff, her volleyball season, my kick-boxing, the play we were going to see that evening and what she knew about Galicia that we could discuss over dinner. But, through it all I couldn’t subdue the incestuous longing that I felt for her or the memory of her moans as I spewed into her.
The play and dinner turned out to be uneventful. In fact, in the days that followed it seemed like Jenny was avoiding me which only added to my confusion. Then about a week later, just when I had resigned myself to the unthinkable, that is, nothing further happening between us, there was a knock on my door. It was late so I knew it had to be Jenny.
“Come in, it’s open,” I said from my bed on the far side of the room wondering what she wanted at this hour.
She slipped in silently and closed the door behind her. It could have been the light and the play of shadows or the fact that I was hornier than a Burmese Bandicoot but she looked absolutely ravishing. She was wearing an oversized, navy tee shirt that doubled as her jammies and I could tell from the outline of her nipples that she was braless. Her hair was damp and coiffed back off of her face, and her eyes glittered with excitement. She stood nervously by the foot of the bed, her skin glowing golden in the subdued lighting.
I was confused and elated, my senses filled with her. I caught the mild whiff of her perfume and shampoo and asked, “What’s up?”
“Coach had us working on spiking drills. I must have hit over a hundred balls at practice. My shoulders are killing me … umm …” she paused, and then added, “…umm, can you massage my shoulders, Cal, please?”
We used to give each other backrubs after working out but that was a while back. She didn’t have to ask twice – I would have killed to touch her again. I fell into an instant state of chaos, a frenetic synapsis of sexual possibilities.
“Okay,” I replied shifting over to give her room; my heart drumming in my ears and my voice sounding strangely strained, “lie down.”
I watched her scramble up onto the bed. Her thighs were thick and firm with calves that curved nicely before tapering gracefully down at the ankles. She had that desirable bubble-butt sculpted to perfection from years of volleyball.
“Great!” She exclaimed happily, lying face down in an obeisant crucifix.
Her tee shirt had ridden up the curve of her ass, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her pink underwear and I felt myself respond, my cock twitching and poking out against my shorts. My reaction to her didn’t go unnoticed. I caught her looking, eyes hooded and unblinking, seemingly mesmerized by the pulsing serpent.
“Ready?” I asked, straddling her thighs, “I’ll do your back first.”
I began rubbing my fingers up and down her spine, pressing into her muscles, working from the small of her back gradually up to her shoulders. She was wound up like a coiled spring, her muscles tense and knotted especially around her shoulders.
“How does that feel?” I asked, trying to gauge the amount of pressure that would make her feel good.
“Ohhhhh God! That feels so good. Don’t stop …” she murmured softly.
So I didn’t. I kept it going for a while, massaging her back and shoulders, using my knuckles to knead into the larger muscle groups and my thumbs and fingers to gently caress the back of her neck. And each time I ran my hands up her body, I had to lean forward which caused the tip of my cock to brush against the curve of her butt. It was obvious, what was happening and I noticed her ass flexing, tightening in response to the lascivious caress.
After a while, she relaxed, her body going limp, making soft, soothing sounds as I continued to manipulate her muscles. The cryptic struggle with my conscience was gone, my cock was now pressing flagrantly against her, twitching like a rubber hose and leaking with excitement.
“How does that feel, sis?” I asked making an oblique reference to the sexual contact.
She was quiet so I asked again, my voice, a hoarse croak, “Does that feel good?”
“Mmmm …don’t stop. It feels divine!” she replied softly, her butt flexing again acknowledging my cock against her.
That was all the encouragement I needed. I allowed my hands to slip under her tee, feeling the warm, satiny touch of her skin against my palms and said, “This is much better.”
She tensed up as my hands tracked up her spine to the shoulder blades. I could feel the sides of her breasts with my finger tips and wondered what she was going to do. But when my hands moved up to massage her neck I felt her relax again. I used small, tight circles outwards, away from her spine working up to the base of her skull and then returning slowly back to her shoulders. From the soft sighs and whimpers, I knew that she was enjoying this almost as much as I was.
“Better?” I asked.
“Unh-ha” was the guarded response.
I moved up her thighs to make it easier to do her shoulders but having my arms under the tee was restrictive. The front of her shirt was trapped between the mattress and her abdomen limiting my movements.
“Why don’t you take it off?” I suggested, rolling the hemmed end up towards her neck.
At first I don’t think she it registered but when I had the back of her shirt pushed all the way up over her shoulders, she reacted.
“No, Cal! Don’t!” her hands grabbing at edges, pulling down.
“Come on, Jen, this is ridiculous! I promise I won’t look. I’ll even turn the lamp off.” I had expected her to protest and reached over and flicked the switch turning out the light.
The room was now washed in a hazy, auriferous glow lit by streaks of moonlight stealing in between the curtains. Our bodies mottled by the dancing, dark shadows cast in soft phosphorescence of the nightlight.
“There I can’t see a thing,” I lied, my eyes adjusting to the dimness.
I was perched on her ass with her back exposed and her tee bunched up around her shoulders and I knew that if I didn’t act swiftly the moment would be lost. Before she could pull the shirt all the way down, I yanked it over her head. There was a brief struggle, an awkward moment when the neck of the tunic snagged on her chin but another quick tug, accompanied by some squirming and wriggling, and I had the damn thing off of her. My sister was now naked, except for her cute little pink panties.
Any vestige of rational thought was gone. I was overcome by the pheromone induced urgency of our bodies. I scooted down her thighs, my hands on the small of her back. I worked the muscles from the elastic band up towards the narrow arch of her lumbar area and then back down again. I kept this up for a while until she was comfortable with my fingers against her bare skin especially around her panties. And with each subsequent series I rubbed lower and lower until my hands were on her butt, pulling downwards with my fingers while my thumbs kneaded her ass cheeks pushing them up and away from me. And except for that tiny patch of her undies, my hands were now manipulating her naked flesh.
“Doesn’t this feel better?” I asked my voice getting noticeably hoarser and my cock feeling like a steel rod.
She didn’t answer but sighed and turned her head to the other side. She had her elbows squeezed against her body with her arms bent and hands in a ball by her face. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing through her mouth.
The repeated massaging of her ass cheeks had jammed her panties into the crease of her ass exposing almost all of her. I leaned over, my nose inches from her crack, and got the savory scent of her – the heady fragrance of female arousal. Wow! It struck me then that my sister horny too!
This was it; the moment of truth. I threw caution to the wind and grabbed the waistband and tugged it halfway down her thighs, totally exposing her ass. I didn’t wait for her to react – before she could say or do anything, I resumed the massage by kneading her naked bottom and running my fingers along the sensitive realm of her thighs.
I heard her gasp and grab the sheets in reflex. It was tangible, that moment when she teetered on the edge of uncertainty; unsure of lying stripped and threadbare, her ass and privates exposed to her brother. I could sense her ambivalence almost as undeniably real as the splendor of her naked body, palpable and sensuous, a raunchy but reluctant ecdysiast. I waited for her to push me off but the moment passed and she remained still as I continued to manipulate her.
I heard her sigh, her breath whooshing softly out, signaling her surrender. The walls of her resistance had crumbled, washed over by waves of desire that was now manifested in the silvery trickle glistening along the puffy gash of her cunt.
I could see her vaginal lips and the puckered rosebud of her asshole as I rubbed her butt up and outwards and could hear her breathing, now labored and deep. Her labial region was swollen and plump and she was seeping the juices of her arousal, the wetness draining down onto the sheets. Then slowly, I felt her hips begin to move, hunching back against my hands and I thought my chest would surely explode. I was giddy with lust and desire and close to losing any semblance of control.
I focused my attention on her ass ignoring her shoulders and back. I had her legs spread in a V, my fingers high on the outside of her thighs and my thumbs rubbing upwards, pulling her ass cheeks apart. And each time I did this, her slit would yawn wide, spreading in response then closing with a soft, wet pussy-smack when I let go. And, like the nectar of the honeysuckle, the slick vaginal secretions ran down her slit, pooling in a puddle to the front.
I pushed her thighs farther apart, working lower so that my thumbs were now brushing against her vaginal lips. The little growth she had was soft and downy allowing me to see just how swollen and wet she was. I continued stroking her, sensing her growing frustration, her hips twisting and turning, maneuvering herself, trying harder and harder to make contact with my fingers. She was juicing so badly that she had soaked the mattress under her vagina leaving a dark, wet stain that was growing by the second.
At this point all pretense of an innocuous, brotherly massage was gone. She was moaning openly, panting, her labored breathing intermingled with soft, indiscernible sighs and groans each time my fingers grazed her cunt. I stopped and eased her panties completely off, tossing it to the side leaving her totally naked. I looked at her amazed by her body, delighting in its unequivocal sensuality and settled back in between her thighs with my face just inches over her bum.
I spread her open and pushed my middle finger into her moist hole. She felt incredibly tight, her pussy immediately convulsing around the invasive digit. I wanted to prepare her for the inevitable moment of penetration, to spare her the pain of entry.
My middle finger was about halfway in when I wiggled it around, moving it back and forth, and when it felt like she had adjusted, I slowly inserted another finger into her. I could feel her responding to the increased girth, her pussy stretching and constricting in buttery convulsions around my fingers.
“Ohhhhhh … ohhh, oh God, please …” she gasped, murmuring unintelligibly.
Her hips were off the bed, pushing backwards, while I slid my fingers in and out of her, pumping her with my hand.
“Mmmmm … mmm, mmm, mmmm …” her moans, timed to the rhythm of the digits sliding in and out of her, her hips bucking in the air, fucking lewdly against the mattress.
I was filled with her musky redolence, an enticing aroma emanating from her core that drew me in, permeating my senses, eliciting an overpowering response to taste her. I moved forward, my forehead pressed against her rump, and licked. It was awkward because of the position we were in. Her thighs weren’t splayed widely enough to allow me complete access. I pressed down harder, my nose buried into her crack, and licked again, swiping up and down with my tongue tasting the slick, spicy, sweetness of my sister for the first time. Sweet, sweet ambrosia!
“Ahhhggg!” she gasped, a soft strangled sound that came from deep within her.
There was a fleshy urgency to that moment that I would never again experience, overwhelming emotions and sensations tied into the esoteric newness of the experience. It was the provocative interpolation of compulsion and passion; the need to possess my sister completely, body and soul. I wanted her to yearn with the same claustrophobic desire that was choking me, to experience the churning need that I felt for her and to evoke the wanton urge to have my cock buried deep inside her. And I knew from my past experiences with Karen that there was nothing as titillating for a girl as the persistent lapping of a soft tongue, licking and teasing her clit even more so than a cock. It was time for me to take my sister to a place she had never been to.
I rolled her over onto her back and spread her wide.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said diving back in between her thighs, into her muff and heard her groan.
I used the tip of my tongue to pry between the lips of her pussy making sure I avoided contact with her puffed-up, little node. And as I feathered up and down the sides, tickling and probing, licking and slurping, she kept squirming, her hips jerking spastically, trying to get me to touch her where she needed me most. And after minutes of incessant teasing, she relented.
“Please … please, baby, I need to cum!” It was a breathless plea. The guileless angel was transformed; her virginal abeyance obscured by the reprobating needs of her body. And in between the writhing and squirming, she attempted to touch herself, her fingers snaking down her abdomen, between her thighs, rubbing over her clit but I pushed her hand away.
“Don’t!” I commanded, “Don’t … just lie there and enjoy it!”
And when I stuck my tongue into her, her body shook, her back arching upwards, desperately seeking release. Her head was rocking from side to side, hair whipping, flailing around her face.
“Oh, ohhhhh … Oh God, what’s happening … what’s happening to me, Cal?” she gasped.
She was leaking profusely now, her juices streaming down the crack of her ass, coating my tongue with a muculent, slippery syrup. I lapped it up, savoring the taste of her, licking her from the ridge of her anal crown to the base of her slit. And with my mouth locked to her sex, I tugged my sleepers off, freeing my dick, turgid and prancing, maneuvering myself around so we could sixty-nine.
I knew that this was all new for her, that she had never sucked a cock before, and felt her fumbling nervously, guided only by somatic curiosity. Her fingers wrapped tentatively around the rubbery rod, her breath hot and clammy, cascading down over my cockhead as she eased the foreskin away from the distended tip. We were lying skewed on our sides, our faces in each other’s crotch. I could feel her fingers stroking up and down as her mouth clamped tentatively around the bloated head. She sucked lightly and then pulled back, testing the taste and texture, then licked again, whisking away a drop of precum, before sucking me back into the warm softness of her mouth.
I continued to lick and suck on her possessed with Satyric fervor; pushing my tongue deep into her, wiggling it in and out, feeling her body undulate; the tiny tremors racing from her cunt causing her legs twitch and jerk. I loved the way my sister tasted, a sweet, mildly spicy flavor enhanced by the musky scent of her arousal.
I pushed my fingers into her tight, little hole again, curling upwards, moving them back and forth, thrilling to every subtle reaction – the slick constrictions of her cunt, the twitching legs and the sensual tremors that ran along the striations of her abdomen. I was a slave to my own concupiscence, a prisoner trapped within the scorching implications of our sanguinary bonds – sister and brother; illicit lovers.
The room resonated with the soggy symphony of our sex as I continued to lap at her cunt. Like Karen, my sister was multi-orgasmic, capable of experiencing several different types of orgasms. Some that were shallow and mild lasting only seconds and then others that emanated from deep within her. They manifested in waves of rolling spasms, riding up through the pinnacles of orgasmic pleasure, her body quivering in ecstasy, before slithering down its isochronous slopes again.
At first, her oral administrations were tentative and inept lacking in the subtleties gathered from experience. She kept taking me out of her mouth and gingerly licking the tip of my cock, exploring the novelty with the curiosity of a virgin Lolita. Her expressions were priceless often betraying her amazement at the reactions she was able to elicit from this new and irrepressible toy of hers. She had claimed it, it was hers now. She used her fingers to examine the ridges and veins, fondling the mushroomed curve of the glans and feathering slowly down to the root before stroking her way back up again. She watched intently, marveling as my cock throbbed and oozed, and eagerly spread the sticky, precoital sap over the bloated dome with her fingers.
Just having my sister holding my cock and using her mouth on me was compensation enough but she proved to be a quick study; a natural at cocksucking. After a couple of unpleasant scrapes with her teeth, and with some encouragement from me, she began to get the hang of it. She used my reactions to gage and improve her technique and very soon, she was sucking like a pro, working the bloated tip in and out of her mouth while stroking the shaft with her fingers. I could feel her tongue swirl around the flared ridge, rubbing against the sensitive underside of my cock and sending pulses of pleasure rippling through me.
At one point during the exploration, she teased the head scratching lightly around the rim causing my cock to flex, jerking in her hand.
I heard her gasp in surprise, “Ohhhh!” and then whisper, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby! Did I hurt you?”
“No. No, it feels good – keep going, don’t stop … and suck it, Jenny, just suck me …” was my rambling response.
And then, unbelievably, she did something that Karen used to do – she began alternating between sucking on the head and using her fingers and palm to rub the ravaged dome, squeezing and pumping with short, compact strokes just around the coronal ridge. The pleasure was almost too intense to bear and I had to stop her or risk losing my load. I was determined to fuck her so I wasn’t going to let her milk me as yet.
And just when I though she was done with her experimentation, she sucked the tip quickly in and out of her sultry little mouth before taking me deep, slowly skewering herself on my pole, her face pressed up against my pubis. I held her head against me, amazed at her proclivity, and could hear her struggling to repress the gag reflex. The sensation of having the tip go down her throat was simply nonpareil. She was moaning around my shaft, as she worked it back out, sucking fiercely on the ruddy head, her cheeks caving in from the effort. She was more erotic than any porn I had jacked off to.
After what seemed like an eternity of pleasuring each other, sucking, stroking, licking, swallowing and teetering several times on that precipice of orgasm, I knew I needed to stop, that if I wanted to consummate this union I had to do it now. And at that very moment, as though blessed with an uncanny prescience, she pulled me out of her mouth.
“Please, baby, I need to feel you inside me …” she was pleading in her little girl voice.
She wouldn’t have to ask again. I gave her one final lick, a long, wet slurping swipe that ran from the bottom up to the tip of her slit and then climbed on top of her. I straddled her hips and leaning over kissed her. It was our first kiss, a deep soulful merging of mouths. And while we sucked on each other’s tongues, I shimmied downwards, squeezing in between her thighs, my cock leaving a slimy trail of precum along the length of her belly. She spread her legs out wider, raising her knees, while I settled on top of her.
I could feel the heat rising from her cunt, burning with urgency, searing the underside of my shaft. She was writhing against me, filled with a need she hadn’t felt before. I reached down in between us and holding my cock, swiped the tip along the furrow of her slit running it up and down a few time. I felt her fingers tighten around my ass, pulling me into her, her hips flexing upwards, desperately seeking penetration. Then unable to refrain any further, I guided my cock, forcing the tip into her vaginal hole. I pushed gently, not wanting to hurt her, and felt her spread, slick and hot, her pussy lips gulping open sucking at the dome of my cock. And though I had only about an inch inside her the feelings were unimaginably insane – the sensations of the tight rubbery band, wet and warm, fluttering around the rim of my cockhead, pulling me into her.
“Ohhhhh …” it was a soft whimper of pleasure from deep in her throat.
She thrust upwards again, wanting more, trying to impale herself. God, what a slut! My slut! I ploughed in, driving into her and felt the dehiscent breach of her vaginal core.
She let out a sharp cry, “Oh, aaoowww …”
“Sorry, baby! Do you want me to stop, Jen? Do you want me out?”
I could feel her squirming under me, struggling, adjusting, and then, “No. No it’s okay, keep going … do it!”
I cupped her ass in my hands and pushed in, my cock spearing her open, deeper and deeper, until our crotches were mashed together. I could feel my cockhead throbbing at the entrance of her cervix. I could feel the rapid constrictions of her canal, milking my shaft.
“Oh God! Baby …!” She gasped into my ear, her breath icy hot and rasping.
We were matched perfectly, cock and cunt, yin and yang, paired by the code of our genetic pool. Just being aware of the incestuous union, and that I was actually fucking my sister was mind-boggling, something that only someone with a similar experience can comprehend.