The Long Hunt Ch. 02

They laughed about it. But then there was this note that came home with her that said that Amy had given one of the other girls a haircut with those blunt little scissors, and nobody in the family understood how I'd known that.

That didn't mean we didn't fight. In fact, that whole year we'd been on the outs – the fallout from an incident at Christmas. But we'd never really lost that sense of a shared private reality that we'd carried around since childhood. And I could tell there was something heavy on her mind. I could tell by nothing more than the looks she gave me from her seat on the edge of the porch.

So when the evening wore down and the cousins went home with Aunt Clair, I volunteered to help Amy do the dishes. We said goodnight to our mother, who kissed us both before wandering wearily off to bed, and shouted some mocking abuse at Diane, who flipped us off as she climbed the stairs.

We didn't really talk as we washed the dishes and put them away. But when it was over and I shut off the light over the sink, Amy was waiting on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"Will, I'm not here to judge," she said, finally speaking her mind. "But I just wish you'd told me about you and Aunt Clair."

I fumbled with a response, but she waved me off.

"It's really none of my business," Amy said, shaking her head as she backed away. "Just don't let yourself get lost in this place. In this family."

***

That night I had a dream in which my mother appeared in the nude at the foot of my bed, took me by the hand, and walked me silently out of the house under the silver light of the full moon, across the yard and into the dark forest, following a path marked by little white candles.

At the top of the hill the forest opened into a clearing, where probably a dozen figures in dark robes stood around a circle lit by five small fires in small stone pits. My mom walked me to the edge of the circle, stood on her tiptoes to kiss me chastely, and then handed me over to one of the robed figures. The woman swept back the hood of her robe, and revealed herself as Aunt Clair.

Then Clair stepped out of her robe, revealing her softly curved hips, thighs and breasts, and held out her hand to me. I took it, and she led me to the center of the circle, where a slab of flat granite waited. When we reached the rock, my nude aunt began undressing me, wordlessly instructing me to lie down. While my naked mother and the rest of the hooded figures watched in silence, my aunt smoothed her hands over my chest, shoulders, belly and thighs, finally coming to rest on my flaccid penis.

My dick responded immediately to her attention, particularly once Clair deep-throated in a stunning display of prowess. I was so lost in the pleasure of it that my dream self lost track of time and surrounding. It was as if one moment I was lying on my back, feeling the coldness of the slab and the warmth of her mouth, the erotic anxiety of being surrounded silent, cloaked strangers – and in the next instant I realized that my aunt was gone, and I'd been bound to the slab by ropes around my wrists and ankles.

Now another hooded figure approached, only this one was holding a double-edged sword. I panicked, straining against the restraints, as the new participant in the ritual stepped up onto the slab and stood above me with the sword raised over her head, mumbling words I didn't understand.

Then she threw back her hood, and I instantly recognized my sister Amy.

Without saying a word, she shrugged off her robe, revealing her lithe, naked body in all its perfection and glory. She stood over my hips, placed the tip of her sword on the rough surface of the slab, and then squatted down until her labia hung just millimeters above my erect but horizontal cock. Not for an instant did her eyes leave mine.

I tried to speak to her in my dream – to ask her to release me, to ask her not to do whatever she was about to do. But I was mute. I could only mumble.

And then, after receiving a blessing and a kiss from our mother, Amy reached down, grabbed my erection and pointed it toward her pussy. She enveloped it in a single downward movement of her hips. Neither of us spoke, but dream-Amy did gasp a bit.

I tried to tell her "I'm sorry," but no words came out.

And then I stopped being sorry, because the sensation – the mind-warping pleasure – was as real as anything I'd experienced with Aunt Clair. Plus – and there's just no sense in lying about it now – that sense of deep soul connection felt as right and comforting as anything I can describe. We had always been close, but as siblings we had learned to cloak that intimacy in elaborate boundaries and rules.

To just lie back while she boldly took possession of my gaze and consumed my body sexually was the greatest of luxuries.

Dream time isn't like waking time, so I can't describe how long it lasted. At no point did she ever speak, and our prolonged eye contact morphed gently into a shared, trusting encouragement. I moved with her. She moved with me. There were no longer any secrets between us, no distance, no artificial separation. Through it all, Amy just stared deeply and meaningfully into my eyes while her flawless 19-year-old body worked me smoothly, powerfully, deliberately, toward orgasm.

As the tension built, the hooded figures began chanting, and my mother and aunt approached us, touching our naked bodies gently with reassuring smooth palms. I cut my eyes away from Amy for a moment to gaze up at Lisa, my mother, standing naked at the head of the slab, staring down at my face with a peaceful smile. As beautiful as she was, I longed for my connection to Amy more, and quickly re-established it.

As the rhythmic intersection of our hips increased its tempo, our mother bent down, kissed the side of my cheek, and whispered this in my ear. And this is verbatim: "I brought you and your sister into this world like two pieces of a magic amulet. The power you both need – the power we all need – begins with your union. Now release your seed into your sister, and change the world."

Lisa stood and stepped away and now Amy fucked me frantically, raising her sword and placing its tip on my chest right above my heart. As I felt my semen gathering to begin its explosive rush, Amy began to convulse in her own orgasm.

"Fill me!" she commanded, and I did, blasting billions of sperm cells deep inside her.

And in that moment of shared ecstasy, Amy plunged her sword into my chest, through my ribs, and impaled my heart.

It was the first wet dream I'd had in more than a year, and the shock woke me too fast, ripping me away from the erotic nightmare and tossing me back into my room upstairs. My chest heaved in the darkness, heart pounding in lust and terror.

I sat for a moment, and then lay back down to sleep. And for just a moment, I thought I caught a peripheral glimpse of my sister slipping away from the door to my room.

I didn't know it at the time, but our story was only beginning.

And while I suspected that things with Ray Ross and Aunt Clair were about to get strange, I had no idea how deep that darkness was about to plunge.