Their Invincible Love Ch. 04

After a good night's fuck, Raul always wakes first. The first rays of sunlight enters through between the tapestries, drives out the darkness from their quaint bedroom. He always sleeps deeply after their lovemaking. It's always a deep short dip into the freshening unconsciousness.

But last night was long. Driven by the necessity to release the load of solaced semen that brewed in his balls during their prolonged foreplay, he could not follow what Daisy had said in the height of their fiery passion. It seemed something unpleasant, something premonitory. A minor worry kept buzzing in the back of his head last night. His sleep was interrupted by a long repetitive dream.

His grandfather, his loving late grandfather, who died five years ago, was taking Daisy away from him. He came in a groom's dress in a white horse. Daisy was in a white bridal dress when she rode the horse and sat in the front of the virile old man. Raul was seeing off Daisy, giving her hand in marriage to her father, who was taking her to heaven.

Raul dreamed the dream a million times. Every time the old man drove the horse, Raul's heart cried in love for Daisy. Thus he cried for her a million times in one night. He loved her never more than he loved her in last night's dream, which was vicious, repetitive, but inspired a sad romance that made him want her even the more. He wakes up and sits upright with a jerk.

He finds her beside her, sleeping as the way she was born, but not a child, a mature woman in her feminine glory. She is supine. Her legs form a soft quadrangle. Her heels are touching. The source of her womanhood is in lurid display. There is no trace of anxiety in her haloed face.

'Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. Because Daisy can alleviate everything evil,' Raul says to himself, wiping his wet eyes. His eyes fill with new tears, the tears of love and desire and taboo happiness.

He looks along her bodily organization. Her breasts are lodged on her wide chest. The juicy gourds banish premonition and brings hunger for heavenly lust. They are his twin Mount Everest. Climbing up her breasts is more desirous, more thrilling than climbing up the world's highest peak. The long nipples, not so long in their peaceful hibernation, are lousy in leisure. They have a tender glow about themselves. These nipples are his life's steering, his center of destination, and his shining beacons dead at night, like the Lighthouse of Alexandria when there were no other lighthouses in the Mediterranean. He can eat her raw. He can gather the salt from her sweat silted in the pit of her arms, in between her fingers and toes, in the roots of her hair, in the depth of her navel, in the crack of her asses. He can happily have breakfast lapping languidly on her minx's skin. But now, in this early morning, what he needs is her scent. Every time he wakes up he needs her scent. But today he needs it more than ever. Only her scent can sooth his stirred nerves, stirred for the first time in his life.

His glare is ablaze on her matted moor in the ravine between her bronze thighs. Before he takes his day's scent, he has a look at her thighs for the first time of the day.

Her thighs are the thighs of Athena. 3000 years ago, the chief architect of the future city Athens had asked the virgin goddess Athena, "What should look like the columns of your Temple, Holy Goddess?" Goddess Athena had opened her sash and shown the architect her sexy thighs. The virgin goddess indicated to the architect from her knee-cup up to the slope of her ass and asked him to make her Temple's columns in the shape of her thighs. Thus was erected the famous Temple of Athena. Subsequently, the columns of all Greek temples resembled Athena's powerful thighs. 3000 years later, Daisy's curved thighs resemble all the columns of all Greek temples.

Daisy is Raul's Athena. Daisy' thighs are the bulwark against any disaster that may befall him. He looks at their sleeping power, more potential than what blew up Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He gather's his life's and afterlife's strength from the strength of the celestial thigh's of his incestuous beloved. Now it is time to take his day's scent.

Between her thighs, Raul prostrates at her dry garden, as if it is a basket of flower bouquets for worshipping an angry goddess. His nose touches the crispy sheet their secretions formed during their prolonged fuck-play. He swivels his nose in search of a softer place until the tip of his nose touches her skin breaking the sheet of cum where it is the thinnest.

He finds it. He finds her smell, the smell of a forest animal. He breathes deeply, filling his lung. He slides his nose downward; the tip of his nose touches the tip of her dry clitoris. Diving below, he finds the dry seam. Swiveling across the net of hair, he manages to poke his nose across the silky lips.

This was his nostrils' ultimate destination. Shoving a few millimeters deep, he breathes with all the strength his healthy lungs can master. He inhales the humid air which was purified in his sister's womb and which is now climbing up the walls of her sleeping cunt-flesh, bringing along its way the many flavors his Athena produces with her kinky lust. The scent is rain-sodden country mud. He breathes deeper. The holy scent reaches the farthest corners of his body, his fingertips, his cranium, and his waking scrotum. This is heaven. This is his supreme asylum.

'God, Father of heaven and earth, make me this lucky every morning with this scent washing my lungs, my blood, my innards, and I will be a slave in the stable of your next prophet,' Raul prays blissfully.

His reverie is broken by the stir of a fish in the pit of a tropical swamp. "You holy bastard," Daisy exclaims, banishing the last vestiges of sleep from her well-rested body. "What punishment should I give you for debasing me?"

He likes the sexy voice of his sister. But he doesn't raise his head. He ravishes as much her flavor as he can. For this refreshing worship, time is short, he knows.

Sitting upright, Daisy holds his head with both her hands. Raul has hair of a lion. She draws her head up, humps his face on her pubic hair.

"See it, feel it, bastard, rapist, feel how you destroyed my sacred garden with your filthy cum," Daisy says, sexily, dragging Raul's face up and down, from one side to another, on her decorated garden ravaged by the desire of incest. She crashes his face on her moorland. The crispy cum-sheet bruises his cheeks; a small speck thinly cuts his lower lip.

"Brother," she calls with all her heart. Calling him brother is so crucial at this moment. It is not long she will tell him the truth and she will never have an opportunity to call him brother.

"Brother, my young brother," she calls again. Brother. This word is now the dynamite of arousal in her twisted soul. "Brother, my sexy Adonis brother." Waves of incestuous pleasure drift her body in the river of sex. Her cunt walls are getting agile. Her dead clitoris has already got life. "My incestuous fucking brother," she murmurs.

The hood of her clitoris is jerking languidly, like the head of a tiny monkey trying to climb up an oily pole.

"Ahha, my innocent brother, my fucking slave."

The more she utters 'brother' the more her pussy-walls sprinkle honey into the hollow of her cunt-meat. She has never thought calling Raul brother for the last time will arouse her this much. The incestuous word draws so much fluid into her pussy that her maternal cave soon becomes the mass of water in the Red Sea. "Moses, my holy brother," she calls out. "You have ravaged your sister's garden. Now is the time to plant new flowers. Go down Moses."

Clasping his lion's hair in her fists, she pushes her head downwardly until his crispy lips meet her sodden nether lips.

"Bring water from the holy sea and plant new trees in your sister's orchard," she commands.

The incestuous lovers are the artists of the creative kink-land. Raul sinks his last night's tongue into the boiling pit of Daisy's pussy until her cringed pussy-lips lodge on the base of his uvula. He rotates his oral digit in the heat of her pussy juice as much for hygiene as for the sake of pleasure. He drinks the stirred nectar. She releases fresh mass.

"You greedy bastard," Daisy exclaims, reveling in the pleasure of fuck by his beastly tongue. But fuck is not what is in her mind at these early hours of indolence. Ahead of them, she has a long life and he has a longer life for countless penetrative fucks. This time she wants some intimacy, some intimate love-play.

"You greedy bastard, you have an assignment to re-plant your sister's garden."

This is all what Raul needs for a reminder. The Adonis of incest is no less creative than the goddess of incest. He gets down to business. He thinks some moments. What can be done? What can be done? Soon he forms a boat with his tongue. He knows his job. He gathers her copious pussy juice in the tongue-boat's belly. He pushes it up to her moorland and flips the liquid mass on her matted jungle.

This is so intimate. Daisy's eyes fill in tears of love.

Raul shoves his tongue into her pussy like a cylinder. When his tongue is deep inside her, he flattens it and she feels her pussy walls are separated like a sliding door by his flattening tongue.

'My sweet fucker's tongue is as strong as his precious cock,' Daisy thinks.

Raul drenches her wild garden with her pussy juice. Some of the precious nectar skates down her thighs. He presses his right cheek on the wet heath. He rubs his both cheeks on the wetland until the cum-sheet becomes a paste of sweet wax.

Daisy is in heaven, not out of the feel of sex but from the sheer devotion of her son's oral nursing of her pubic mane. Her hands are on his head. She steers her stud's oral adoration to her liking.

Raul puts a large chunk of the wet hair in his mouth. He receives the soap of her pussy juice mixed with the paste of last-night cum on his voracious tongue. It tastes of exotic yoghurt and he loves it. He eats every last vestige, chewing tenderly on every individual hair, receiving into his mouth layers of autumn dust, age-old pussy secretion, ancient sweat, and prehistoric salt. When he finishes re-planting her sacred garden, her pubic hair is the cleanest, shiniest, and most tender Japanese grass in the garden of Emperor Akihito.

'Such love, such adoration.' Daisy has created heaven in her own house with her son. She will not hanker after God's heaven in the sky. She draws his head up, at the level of her face. An erotic smile spreads on her beautiful face as she sees the broken cum-sheet like wax powder on his eyebrows and jaws. She pulls his face close to her, never losing the eye-contact. Her sweet smile grows softer, more feminine, and sweeter, as his face comes closer. She puts his right cheek on his left cheek, and presses a little. She rolls his face on hers. Their noses meet, their eyebrows mesh together, one's cheek slides across the other's.

Raul loves the intimacy of it as much as his sister. His skin touches her skin along her torso. The incestuous hetero couple exchanges their bodies' warmth. 'If only she were some sweaty.' He likes her body's touch better when she is wet. It is even betters if she is wet with her sweat.

Daisy licks his bruised face. She licks sloppily. She kisses his lips taking them between her soft lips. She kisses them with soft nibbles and showers them with her tenderness. She is his mother. But still he does not know it. He knows that she is his sister.

"Brother," she calls out. The word ignites the same magic as it has done earlier. "Let your sister nurse your tongue. I must pay off, even if I am your sexy sister."

Raul pushes his sturdy oral digit inside her mouth. Her tender tongue embraces his tongue and soaks it with the secretion of her taste buds. She tastes his tongue. She tastes her feminine products -- pussy juice, sweat, salt, brewed dampness of her panties of previous days and weeks-- on his tongue. The dueling tongues exchange their sacred love.

"My holy brother," Daisy says, smiling at Raul. Raul's lecherous eyes stare at her nipples. Her nipples reflect the sexiness of her voice.

Raul opens the glass window at Daisy's head. He also opens the window opposite it. The house is in a semi-detached plot. Their bedroom is surrounded with rose bushes. The morning sun is bright on Daisy's unkempt hair. Her thick skin glows. A steady but powerful autumn breeze washes over her body. The wind exerts pressure on the back of her semi-erect nipples.

Raul's eyes are on her pubic hair. It is the most beautiful sight in this bright morning. The wind blows the silky strands of black gold like a heather of wild grass. 'It is my land of pilgrimage,' Raul says to himself.

Their eyes meet. They are in love. Raul has forgotten his premonition.