Barry's Sluts Ch. 03: Imani

She felt like an old clock, telling time a minute too slow. Soon, it would be two minutes too slow. And then four. Then eight. Then sixteen. Before she knew it, she wouldn't be any use at all. She would be used up and worthless, unable to serve her Master as he deserved.

But, he stroked her hair softly, gazing gently into her eyes. "Like I care. Regardless of its age. It's mine. I'll continue to plant my seed in that garden, whether or not it bears fruit."

His arms scooped under her knees, lifting her up and setting her ass upon the sink. Ariadne gave a faint yelp, but her heart was beating faster. And faster yet when her master's hands pushed her thighs further apart and he took a closer step. She felt the head of his commanding saber knocking on the door of her sex, and she eagerly reached down to help guide it inside. Her arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him closer as he sank within her.

"Yes, please, Master. Plant it deep in me. Claim my fertile cunt as yours and yours alone."

He thrust inside deeply, and she cried out loudly, feeling the wave of pleasure strike like a burst of warm air. Never did she feel more full . . . more complete, than when her son's hard, firm cock was deep within her inviting pussy.

Despite the intense pleasure, however, she couldn't control the emotions that stirred within. Her eyes watered, and tears fell down her cheeks as she received each one of her son's hammering thrusts. She knew that no matter how much she enjoyed this, no matter how wonderful it felt . . . a part of it was missing.

Until there was another baby in her belly, she'd never feel complete.

"Please Master, give me your baby," she cooed. His hips bucked harder as she said that, as they always did. "Please darling, my son. Give me a brother-son, or a sister-daughter to bear for you. Make my belly swell with your child."

Barry gripped the sides of the sink hard and growled as he pushed deep into her cunt. Powerful jets of cum rushed out into her body, filling her and doing its best to fulfill her request. Ariadne's body bucked and shivered wildly as she felt it, climaxing herself at the joy of once again being used as her firstborn's cum dumpster.

"Thank you, Master," she sobbed. "I'll . . . do better to please you this time."

"I always want you to do your best, my Slut," Barry told her lovingly, "and you know that nothing would satisfy me more than seeing your belly swell. But, don't ever forget . . . you are mine, and you please me nonetheless."

"Th-Thank you, Master!" exclaimed a very happy Ariadne.

******

"She seems really depressed about it," Suzanna told him at the breakfast table not long after, betraying her tendency to eavesdrop.

"I'm hoping she'll change her tune after I show that I have no intention of fucking her any differently or less often," Barry replied with a spoonful of Cheerios.

"Maybe, but I doubt it. She really likes being pregnant. It makes her feel young and alive," said his wife without taking her eyes from her paper. "Makes me tempted."

Barry glanced up and smiled.

She noticed the twinkle in his eye and nodded. "I know, lover. But, I'm still not quite ready yet. Can you give me a bit more time?"

"I can wait as long as you, need, baby. We're still young. But, eventually, I will put one in there." His eyes fell toward her tummy.

She reddened and beamed at him, demonstrating how much that vow meant to her.

Just then, the phone hanging on the side wall rang. Barry immediately got up to answer while Suzanna went back to reading the day's paper.

"Hello? Garrett home. Barry speaking."

"Oh hey. Nice to hear from you. What's going on with—"

"No . . .! Really? Really?! That's outstanding! Where did you --?"

"That far? You're kidding. And you're absolutely sure . . .? Fantastic! Come over as soon as you can and give me all the details!"

"Uh-huh. Right. Ten-thirty's good. Uh-huh. See you then."

Barry was grinning from ear to ear as he sat back to the table, and Suzanna's eyes were locked on him, her insatiable curiosity piqued.

"What was that about? You look like the cat that ate the canary."

"You remember that investigation company I hired a while back?"

"Yeah, that was four years ago, wasn't it? Wow. I haven't heard about that in a while."

"Yeah, well, for a long while there wasn't anything to hear about. Just a bunch of false leads and dead ends. In fact, with our money being stretched so thin as of late, I was almost ready to call the whole thing off."

"But they came through? That's good. Remind me, baby . . . it's been so long . . . what did you hire them for again? What exactly did they find for you?"

Barry smiled evilly. "They found my sister."

******

Aiports brought Barry way back.

Once, an airport was where he'd meet his Mom every trip home from college—back when they first became lovers. Air travel was something of a recurring theme in their family. After his father had been killed in a plane crash, his mother had developed an intense phobia of flight. Barry had stubbornly made up his mind to "avenge" his family, deliberately choosing to go to school out of state in order to tame the mechanical beast. It had worked brilliantly; these days, even Ariadne was able to overcome her fear of flying long enough to travel semi-consistently. In addition, with homes in Chicago and Los Angeles, as well as business offices in Vegas, New York, and even Germany, flying was immensely integral to his way of life.

And now, here he was yet again, standing in the foyer at Los Angeles International Airport, waiting for a new chapter to begin.

He wondered if he'd underdressed for the occasion. Then he wondered if he'd over-dressed. He was wearing a casual suit, without a tie, no different from what he typically through his daily routine. But, both Ariadne and Chandra had approved, and they were backed up with comments from several of his other submissives as well. Unanimously, his slaves assured him that this was what best brought out his natural handsomeness.

If that many women were in consensus, then he would be stupid to contradict them. His purpose wasn't just to look fashionable. Being honest with himself, Barry knew precisely what his ultimate intentions were. Yeah, it was going to feel nice to finally meet the half-sister he'd never known . . .

. . . But, more importantly, it would feel even nicer to fuck her.

That was what it came to when he was completely honest with himself. He was a hedonist. He loved pussy. Very little mattered to him aside from that. Barry knew good pussy when he saw it, and when he saw it, he wanted it. He didn't give a damn if the family genes came attached with it.

Actually, no. That wasn't true.

He wanted it more if those genes came attached to it.

A crowd of people stepped into the terminal, and Barry was scanning each feminine face, trying to find the one who closely matched his perception of what a sister would look like. He knew nothing about her, except that she was older. Ariadne had told Barry that his sister was a result of a fling his father had once had with a woman while he'd served with in the military, years before he and his wife ever met.

It seemed reasonable to assume that his sister couldn't be more than a few years older. At most, she would be in her early thirties. Other than that, he knew nothing else about her. Using info from his investigators, Barry had sent an email explaining that he was her long-lost brother and that he wanted to meet her. The two of them exchanged very few words before the arrangements had been made, and decided to withhold any physical descriptions. It would be more fun trying to pick each other out of a crowd that way, she'd said.

As he scanned through dozens of faces, there were a few women that Barry hoped would be the lucky winner. A blond, a brunette, and a woman with hair dyed in two different colors were some standouts, with a gorgeous set of tits, gorgeous eyes, and long, stunning legs between them. He was almost tempted to step up to any one of them and work his magic, but decided against it. Besides, the brunette had kissed and left with a man that bore a wedding band which matched hers, the blond was hugging an elderly couple who were undoubtedly her parents, and the woman with dyed hair was pressing her lips against another woman's.

Not that that last thing wasn't hot in itself.

But who was the right one? His one-and-only half-sister?

"Hm. Pardon me . . . but, you wouldn't happen to be Barry, would you?"

Immediately, Barry spun, eager to greet the lovely voice behind him.

And right after, his jaw hit the floor.

Standing before him was a tall, cocoa-skinned black woman, roughly the same age as him. Her hair was dark and wavy, with a silky and healthy sheen to it. Her eyes were a deep dark brown, but shimmering in the incandescent glow of the airport lighting. Her lips were the fullest and thickest that Barry had ever seen in his entire life—very lush and plump and coated in a deep dark red that looked closer to black on her rich, chocolate skin tone.

And that wasn't even the most amazing thing about her.

It took all of the willpower he could muster to tear his eyes away from the mountains sticking out from underneath her top. The material was barely able to hold together, and it had to have been at least a size or two too large for a woman her size. It was plain to see that there was no way she'd ever fit in her everyday attire, unless she had tailor-made clothing to contain her immense 'assets'.

All in all, Barry was speechless.

Was this really her?

With a bright, confident smile, she greeted him. "I guess you are. Hello, Barry. I'm Imani Ahmad. I believe that you're my baby brother."

Barry blinked once and tried to speak, but words still failed him.

"Hello?" she said, looking into his eyes as if to see if his brain was working. "Didn't you hear what I said? Aren't you going to say 'hi'?"

Finally, Barry snapped out of it and stretched out a hand. "Um, sorry. Yeah, I'm Barry. Nice to meet—"

"We don't do handshakes in my family, baby boy!" she proclaimed happily as she threw her arms over him and squeezed him tightly against her. Her warmth, her forcefulness, and the size of her massive chest all made Barry instantly hard, but he controlled himself, resisting the urge to tear the clothes off this woman here and now.

After a moment or two, Imani stepped away and noticed that a tall, bald man with a dark suit and dark sunglasses had taken a few steps closer to them.

"Friend of yours?" she asked Barry. He turned to look.

"Oh, sorry. That's just one of my security guys. He's harmless."

She nibbled her fingernail with a lustful glint as her eyes scanned the massive bodyguard. "God, I hope not. I'm liking what I see. If I pay him overtime, will he guard my body?"

Oh yeah, Barry thought with a smirk. This is my big sister, alright.

******

"So. Not what you expected, huh? I hope you're not disappointed," Imani said to Barry in the back of his luxury sedan while his driver took them from the airport.

"What? No," he responded earnestly. "Why would I be?"

She cast him a wry smirk. "You know why. Didn't think your sister was . . . a 'sista', did you?"

He chuckled. "No, can't say that I did. But, it doesn't bother me." His eyes studied her features gently. "You're very beautiful."

She beamed and pulled a lock of hair from her face. "Thank you. And you're quite fine yourself. Momma always did say that Dad had strong looks, and if you look anything like him, then I see her point."

It was true—Barry did closely resemble his father. His jawline, his nose, his eyebrows . . . all of it had been inherited from his Dad. But more than that, Barry had gotten his father's body type. Stewart Garrett had been a mesomorph with wide shoulders, a strong chest, and a very tall frame. Barry had inherited all of that—those genes had made him an ideal fullback in high school.

And glancing at Imani, Barry could see that she'd inherited the same. She was almost as tall as he was . . . 5'10" at least. Maybe even 5'11". She had wide shoulders for a woman, and her upper torso was also a bit abnormally large.

Their similarities ended there, however. She had an impressively tiny waist but surprisingly wide hips. It was interesting because as far as Barry knew, the stereotype for black women was narrow hips and an obscenely huge ass. Her hips didn't fit the image, but she certainly wasn't lacking in the rear. Barry barely had a chance to glance at it earlier, trying not to raise an alarm, but from a quick glance at her jeans, he'd gathered that Imani's rear actually gave his mother's a run for its money in sheer size.

In fact, Ariadne and Imani had a lot in common in terms of body type. Ariadne had put on some pounds following one pregnancy after another, but it had all gone to exactly the right parts. Ariadne's breasts had swollen, and her thighs were much meatier than they'd been before Barry began knocking her up. While she herself always seemed to lament these changes, they actually drove Barry crazy. As he'd told her multiple times, he adored the way his Slut looked.

Some other notes of comparison were between both womens' breasts and thighs. Ariadne's tits were Double-Ds, but Imani had Ariadne beat in the bust, no contest. They had to be 40-F in size, at least. The pink, spaghetti-strap camisole she wore made it obvious that Imani wasn't wearing a bra, but her tits were still perky and round. Her thighs were likewise extremely thick, but still curvaceous and feminine. That was fine with Barry, because he liked 'em thick.

Actually, he loved women in every shape, size and form. But, thick women always looked the sexiest when pregnant.

All said, Barry was quite pleased. His sister was one hell of a beautiful vision. And he still couldn't wait to fuck her.

"How long are you in town for?" he asked, secretly wanting to know his time limit.

"Actually, I'm not sure. Quit my job in DC not too long ago, and I'm not sure where to go next. I've actually been thinking about moving, so I'm partially here to shop for a new place."

"You're kidding," Barry said, barely able to believe his luck.

"Not even," she replied. "Need to get my bearings. At thirty, I'm not getting any younger, so it's time I put down roots and started thinking seriously about kids."

Lewdly, that line made Barry smile.

"So. Married, huh?" she said, eyeing the ring on his finger.

"Yeah," Barry admitted. "Seven years."

"How about you guys? Any kids yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Why not? Seven years and not one baby? At least my excuse is that I lack a husband. What're you guys doing wrong?"

Barry chuckled. Oh, there are plenty of babies, he thought, just not the way you say it, Sis.

Thankfully, she changed the subject. "And while we're talking about families . . . tell me, what do you know about our father?"

"Dad? Well, not much I can tell I'm afraid."

"He's not with you, either?"

Barry frowned. "He died when I was eight."

"Oh," Imani answered quietly. "Sorry. I . . . I didn't mean . . ."

"S'okay. When you get to talk with her, just ask Ma anything you want to know about him. The two of them were together for years before he passed."

"Okay," she nodded. Then, apparently attempting to change the subject, she asked, "What about you, Barry? What can you tell me about my little brother?" She glanced around at the classy interior of his limo. "Aside from being apparently rich."

He smirked. "I'm in the entertainment business. I own a studio in Los Angeles."

"Wow," she said with intrigue. "That sounds interesting. Have you done any films or shows I might have heard of?"

"Haha. I think that depends on your tastes," he chuckled, trying not to reveal too many of his secrets too fast.

"What do you—"

"We're not a big production company, so our stuff pretty much goes directly on the shelf. Our actors and actresses are good at their jobs, but we're not in the market to compete with Hollywood. We like our own little niche and we do just fine with it."

She nodded. "I see. So you do porn, then?"

Barry choked. "Huh? Wha? Why would—"

"Oh please. Don't think that I don't know a runaround when I hear one. And I'm not some naïve schoolgirl. I'm ex-military too, like Dad was. Served in Qatar, US Army, 101 Airborne Division. You stay shacked up with almost nothing but horny men a few thousand miles from home, and you get real familiar with the intricacies of decent pornography."

Barry had to admit. He was impressed. "Wow. Excuse me, then."

Satisfied with her moral victory, her grin grew wider. "So, you gonna let me see any of it?"

"Haha, you for real?"

"What, you scared to let your big sister see your work? I promise I won't stare if you start beating off."

Barry broke into laughter. He had to admit, he was growing fond of her rather quickly. "Actually, Sis, I think I could do you one better. . ."

******

That evening, Barry took his sister to one of the many studios his company owned, in fact, the very first studio he'd ever visited, back when he merely worked for Stallion Productions rather than owned it. To date, this was probably his favorite studio, if only because it made him feel a guilty nostalgic comfort.

Deep down, he couldn't believe he was doing this. He'd only met his sister a couple of hours ago, and already he was exposing some of the lewder points of his lifestyle? Sure, she said she was used to porn, but watching it and seeing it done in action were two different things. Barry himself had found that out when Suzanna had taken him to his first shoot, back when they were both UCCF students. He didn't want to freak Imani out, and not just because he still wanted to fuck her. Regardless of whether he slept with her or not, she was still his sister, and the only sibling he had.

But, things turned immediately positive. Imani reacted to being in the studio with the same wide-eyed fascination that Barry himself had once had. Being in a real studio carried a heavy weight on your shoulders; knowing that you were in a location where people were being paid to fuck on camera was something that took a bit of getting used to if you were the sheltered type.

Somehow, though, Barry got the feeling that Imani was anything but "sheltered".

"Well fuck me! Look who's here!" Barry heard a familiar Cockney accent shout.

Barry spun and met an old friend with a handshake. "Hey Clyde. It's been too long. How've you been, ya limey?"

"Buggered. Been at my wit's end waiting for all that mess with the diseases to get sorted. Glad to be getting back behind a camera and earning some money."

Barry smiled, reminded why he appreciated Clyde so much. The man didn't have much tact, and he could be a straight asshole when he was ticked off, but he was a fabulous director who took his job seriously. On top of that, he was one of the few people who vocally supported Barry's policy changes in the company. In fact, it had been many of Clyde's ideas and complaints that Barry had listened to during his time as an employee and had inspired the changes when he took control.

When their shake ended, Clyde turned his attention to Imani.

"And who's this fine female specimen, then? You brought me some new blood to work with, yeah?"

Barry chuckled and shook his head. "No, not this time, sorry."

Clyde shot him a disapproving frown. "Don't go and tell me you're on the outs with the Missus! Christ, Barry, I love you and Suzanna like you were my own. I'd hoped that the two of you would at least have a couple of kids before you—"

"Suze and me are just fine," Barry told him. "I'm sure she would've told you if we were having problems."