Almost Incest

My womb contracts, my breast can't tell, my milk flows freely for you.
Is it the pinching, tight feeling as you suckle my breast that makes me a mother?
Perhaps it's borne of your desire to drink deeply of my sweet, stolen essence,
or maybe it's my need to nourish your spirit with the innocent offerings of my body.

Your fingers dance over soft tight skin, lifting and cupping the weight of my breast;
hands gently squeezing my swollen, tender globes making me shiver.
Enticing whimpers of delight your mouth explores each curve drawing me closer still.

Your arms wrap around me holding my head to your chest, stroking my hair.
Is it the warm feeling of protection I find nestled in your arms that makes you a father?
Perhaps it's borne in my own insecurities. I press my face to your hard muscled chest,
or maybe it's my need to be guided and sure in each decision, each thought.

My fingers play through coarse dark hair, tracing fiery lines of desire.
Delicate, soft tongue follows in their wake lapping at your pebble-hard nipples,
Making you tremble and shiver, your need grows washing over your senses.

You shove me down, my arms pinned with one hand stretched over my head.
Is it the sincerity masked by your smile while you display such strength that makes you a brother?
Perhaps it's borne in your rough and tumble games, my body your plaything to be had,
or maybe it's my need to fight back against your strength, surely in vain, yet I struggle.

Your hardness meets a barrier of cloth, my only defiance to your probing sexuality.
Your lips press hard, demanding against mine, your tongue claims my mouth wildly.
My hips defy me raising to your thrusts, my legs wrap around to hold you to me.

I roll to the top, straddling your waist grinding my pink cotton panties over your belly.
Is it the endless teasing, the blushing admiration of your body beneath me that makes me a sister?
Perhaps it's borne in my naïve fumbling ways, trying to gain the attention I crave,
or maybe it's my need to be accepted and loved when you feel an era away.

At last pulling my soaked panties to the side, I cover your length in my nectar,
Slowly, descending, my thighs blanket your pelvis, we are at last joined.
Filling me, carrying me beyond myself, past all these things that make us whole.