Of Sisters & Brothers Pt. 02

"You like your brother fucking you, don't you?" I whispered wanting her to acknowledge this act of incest.

She groaned in response and nibbled on my ear while I lay on top of her, unmoving. I wished that this feeling could last forever, this slick, wet, searing heat massaging the length of my shaft, running from the bloated tip into the very depths of my being. I was fused to my sister, physically and emotionally, and I knew then with certainty that every nuance of her was being burnt indelibly into my psyche. We would forever be one. There might be others in her life and mine but no one would ever feel like this for either of us. Karen was special because she was my first but this - this was forever!

I felt her hips begin to move, fucking upwards, and heard her gasp when I pulled out leaving just the head nestled in the entrance of her cunt. I held for a moment, flexing my cock, and then drove in again, plowing back deep into her until I felt the puffy hardness of her pubis pressing against my crotch. I lay buried to the hilt, grinding my bone against her mons, allowing my cock to throb inside her. I waited, thrilling in the moment.

"Do it, baby, please ..." she pleaded.

"Do what, Jenny? Ask me ... what do you want me to do? I need to hear you say it, baby," I demanded, overcome by the feelings coursing through me.

She hesitated, tentative and shy, and then acquiesced to the game.

"Fuck me, Cal ... fuck your little sister," she whispered lewdly.

I began to fuck her in earnest with long steady strokes, sliding my entire length in and out of her, feeling the fleshy lips of her cunt clinging in protest each time I retracted my cock. And, when I plunged in, she would thrust up making a soft, sweet sound that wheezed out from her mouth, our timing immaculately synchronized.

We maintained a steady pace fucking each other, hearts pounding together, panting, hands sliding, grabbing, holding, caressing – she was whimpering and whispering inaudibly into my ear, lewd, incestuous thoughts urging me on, arousing me further and further, pushing me to the brink.

"Oh God, it feels so good," she groaned out loudly, "oh baby, fuck me, fuck! Oh, fuck ... fuck your little sister... unh, unh, unh ... Ohhhhh ..."

We varied the tempo, our bodies coupled in a choreographed ballet, thrusting fast and hard for a while and then slowing it down, using deliberate strokes, slower and slower until we were lying still. I could feel the walls of her cunt squeezing me, her hips rotating, holding me deep in her before we resumed fucking each other again – a steady, rhythmic pounding up and down and back and forth.

The noises of the bed and the mattress springs, groaning and squealing was joined by the lewd slapping of our bodies, a grating percussion to the squishy, rhapsody of our sex. I kissed her neck, licking behind her ears, my breath hot and humid against her and felt her turn towards me.

"Kiss me, baby ... unh, unh ... kiss me, now ... unh, unh ... kiss your baby sister," she said, her voice stuttering, her lips brushing against my chin.

Our mouths locked together, her tongue slithering into mine, swirling, twisting sucking and being sucked. She tasted minty and fresh, and felt incitingly soft and slick as I traced along the roof of her mouth, probing the pink insides between her cheeks and gums. I sucked gently on her lips, kissing her chin and throat, arching my neck to suckle on her nipples all the while pumping into her without breaking our cadence.

And then I felt her thighs tighten, her body twitching and her breathing, short and ragged. I knew she was close, on the verge of release, and pressed my fingers into her clit, rubbing just hard enough to push her over the edge. And, that did it - her hips bridged high, her cunt in spasms around my cock, and I felt her fingers dig into me, unable to control herself.

"Ahhhhh, I'm cumming! Unh, unh, unh ... Oh God ... don't stop, fuck, fuck, ohhhh fuck me!"

And as I pumped my cock into my lovely little sister, she thrashed violently in the throes of her orgasm, sucking hungrily on the finger I had pushed into her mouth.

I fucked her faster and harder, ramming in and out of her, her tits swaying back and forth, jiggling like mounds of firm jello. I was spurred on by the need to join her, to drown in the sea of timeless pleasure where moments and infinity are merged ecstatically together. And then I felt it, that tingling starting at the tip of my cock, my juices churning up from my balls.

"I'm going to cum," I whispered, a choked up, throaty cry, "Oh, little Jenny ..."

"Yes, yes, darling, cum inside me," she hissed, "cum inside your sister ..."

That did it. I tumbled over the edge. I felt my cock flex, constrict and spit out a thick, ropey glob that splashed deep inside her and then another and another and another. I kept pumping my seed into her belly, hips twitching uncontrollably, our bodies grinding together in a ruptured mosaic of incestuous passion until there was nothing left but the dry heaving of my cock inside her.

She had knees bent high, her heels against the underside of my ass, securing me to her. We were still fused together, my cock imbedded in her cunt and not fully soft. She was holding me, her fingers feather soft, caressing me as I lay sweaty and spent. We remained that way for a while, unmoving, basking in the warm afterglow of our love. We were staring into each other's eyes, awestruck and spellbound by the emotional depth of our coupling.

"That was incredible," I said finally, and kissed her.

She smiled shyly and snuggled into me. I caressed her face, pushing back the strands of her hair plastered to her forehead and cheeks and toyed with her breasts, gently rubbing across her nipples and holding her to me by small of her back. She was warm and damp, covered in a film of sweat. We continued cuddling each other, exchanging little kisses, whispering sweet nothings and that's when she confided in me.

"I've wanted this for so long, ever since I watched you with Karen," she said, her voice soft and earnest, "I would lie awake at night wishing you would do those things to me."

"What?" I didn't think I had heard her right.

She elbowed up, peering down at me with those sparkling, aquamarine eyes.

"I knew something was up when the three of you would try and lose me," she said, smiling, her fingers gently tracing the periphery of my mouth and adding in non sequitur, "You have such a soft mouth!"

"Forget my mouth! You were spying on us?" I was incredulous and mildly angry.

Clay, Karen and I had been careful to find secluded spots so we wouldn't be discovered. We had never considered Jenny's resourcefulness being far more concerned about our parents. I couldn't understand my feelings – it felt almost like a betrayal and I was miffed with her for the breach. My time with Karen held a special spot in my heart, a sacred spot, especially since she was gone.

"I couldn't understand why you wouldn't take me with you. And, when I discovered what you were doing," she paused trying to find the words, "I couldn't stop watching ... it was so exciting!"

I lay without responding, my mind filled with images and memories of Karen, trying to come to grips with my reaction. This explained some of Jenny's experimenting – I'm sure watching Karen doing things like deep throating me had created an impression on her. I couldn't blame Jenny for trailing after us and knew that my reaction was irrational and misplaced.

"Don't be angry with me, Cal, please," she said, sounding despondent, "It was years ago and I really didn't mean to spy, it just ... it just happened."

"It wasn't that long ago," I countered, speaking softly, "It's only been two years or so."

"I love you so much, Cal, please don't be mad ... please," she was pleading worried that she might have upset me.

"I'm not mad at you, silly girl, and I love you too and in case you didn't know, I've wanted you as far back as I can remember ... even before you had grown these!" I said giving one of her nipples a nip.

"Ouch!" she yelped and then, quick as a cat, reached down and grabbed my cock, squeezing it. "Two can play that game, mister man!"

"Owww!" I teased, now kneading her breast, "You're killing me!"

"It hurts, does it? Don't worry, darling, I'll make it all better. How does this feel?" she asked rhetorically, kissing the tip and before I knew it she had me in her mouth. She had pulled the foreskin all the way down and was bobbing her head, running her mouth quickly over the ridge of my glans.

I raised myself up and moved her hair away from her face so I could watch. She looked amazingly sensual with her lips stretched around my cock, riding over the wet glistening ring of saliva and precum. It was a voyeuristic stimulus that forced the visceral response, "Oh God!"

She released me and whispered, "Just lie back. I want you to cum in my mouth, baby ..." and then she was on me, sucking like a girl possessed.

We fucked every chance we got, all through high school and college, totally committed to each other, and if it weren't for my stint in Iraq, I'm sure we would have been together today. While I was away, Jenny moved with some friends to upstate New York where they bought a farm, an organic farm. My brother, Phillip had helped her with the purchase and that in itself was enough to keep me away.

But that's a separate chapter in our jumbled relationship. Right now, I had to figure out what had happened to Clay and how this blonde amazon figured in this mess.

*****

In the Den with Lions

I studied the amazon through the open window of the passenger side. I checked the rear seats to see if there was anyone else with her but except for a duffle bag, the car was empty.

"Get in," she repeated. And, as soon was in, she hit the accelerator and the beamer shot forward throwing me back against the seat.

"Buckle up," she instructed brusquely.

Her voice was husky, not foghorn husky, but with a sensual throatiness. I studied her chiseled profile and was surprised by the delicate bone structure. She had big sky-blue eyes, small button nose, high cheekbones and a cupid-bow mouth that arced seductively over a strong chin and except for the fact that she was an inordinately big gal, she was gorgeous, a Scandinavian bombshell.

"I'm not that stupid!" I replied. I knew all about seatbelts that were modified to be restraints, "Click it and stick it – I'll be trapped, right?"

She didn't answer but instead reached under the seat and came up with a Steyr M40 with a laser pointer attached. For those who are not familiar with handguns, the Steyr M40 is a 9 mm Glock on steroids.

I was about to react when she handed it to me, "Here you take it. It's loaded and the safety is off."

I studied the gun for a second then clicked the safety back in place and dropped it between my legs on the floorboard.

"Please buckle up, we are being tailed and I'm going to try and lose them."

I complied and instinctively turned, looking back at the headlights.

"They are very good, probably professionals," she said, glancing in the rearview mirror, "they are a few cars behind us, a black Lincoln,"

She as driving really fast, weaving in and out, cutting through the traffic with ease.

"You're going to have to trust me, Caleb," she said, glancing over and then continued, "I'm on your side. We have to act fast if you want to see your friend again - alive! I don't think you realize how much danger he is in."

I looked at her again, surprised that she knew my name.

"Well, let's start at the beginning. What's your name and how do you know mine?" I asked.

"I'm Greta von Hassel with the Austrian Secret Service, the BVT. We have been working with the Russians to try and nab al-Shishani for quite a while now. We have most of his US contacts under surveillance, including your friend Sam Eliasberg."

She didn't have to explain any further. Unless you were trying to remain anonymous, and you had to really try, it was easy enough to get the background on anyone these days but I wasn't quite convinced.

"The Austrian Secret Service? Yeah, and I'm just supposed to believe that," I responded, with obvious suspicion, "And what the heck is the BVT?"

"It stands for Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz und Terrorismusbekämpfung. It's a federal agency that handles counter terrorism. I can show you my credentials when we get back to the hotel," she paused before adding, "but you can also call our colleagues at the CIA. I do have a few contacts at Langley."

"The Bundes what?"

"Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz und Terrorismusbekämpfung," she repeated, "but almost everyone refers to us as the BVT."

Her accent was almost nonexistent. You had to listen carefully to catch the slight intonation of certain words typical of European enunciation. I grappled with her story and it seemed to be true but there were still too many loose ends.

"Okay, then how did you track us to that dive? That wasn't a coincidence; your walking in and Clay going missing? And what's in the briefcase that makes it so damn valuable?"

"We put a tracking device under your vehicle," she said simply and without hesitation.

"When?"

"When you were with Kriegl at the Hilton." She answered in anticipation, almost before I had asked the question.

So she knew Kriegl. This was getting better by the minute.

"Where's the car now?" I quizzed.

"They must have done a sweep and found the tracker because we lost contact when the two of you were in the diner." She explained while continuing to speed, the hum of the V8 getting louder. She was Danica Patrick on a NASCAR track except we were on an Interstate crammed with traffic.

She kept glancing in the rearview mirror, checking for the tail, weaving through the slower cars using the shoulder when she had to. I wondered where the state police were. They are never around when you needed them. It would have been interesting to watch her handle New Hampshire's finest.

We drove quietly for a while and the traffic had gotten considerably less congested. She coasted over into the right lane.

"I think we've lost them," she said and slowed the X5 down. She glanced over at me and then offered encouragingly, "We'll find your friend but we have to get to al-Shishani first. He's the key to all of this. Where are you meeting him?"

"You didn't answer me. What's in the case that is so important?"

That's when the rear window shattered and I heard the soft "thwap" of a bullet tearing through fabric. The blonde amazon lurched forward and gasped as the crimson stain blotched across the front of her right shoulder.

A second shot blew open the driver side rear window and the car careened out of control, slipping precariously into the grassy ditch. When I looked out past Greta, the black Lincoln had pulled up alongside with the tattooed Ukrainian leaning out. He had a rifle aimed straight at us, his snake eyes glittering ...

To be continued.