Brother and Sister Reunion

1.

A sharp creak echoed through the nocturnal stillness of the house. The old floor had betrayed the small, bare feet passing gently over its wooden slats. With the turn of a glass doorknob, a heavy door swung open for a second, admitted a body, then quickly shut. The figure, a lithe, young girl, moved quickly to the bed. She slid quietly beneath the pale, blue sheets, sidling against the boy sleeping there. Her voice hardly rippled the nocturnal blackness in the room as she whispered.

"Denis."

Sensing no response from the sleeping boy, the girl brushed her lips against his ear.

"Denis."

Her moist breath passed over his cheek. Under the soft, cotton sheets, her hand moved up and down the boy's bare thigh. She had pulled her flowered nightgown up to her waist, and her exposed body urgently pressed against him. Still in sleep, the boy reacted to her touch. His breathing paused, then resumed. His warm body flexed, almost imperceptibly, then began to press back against the girl's bare pelvis.

"Sweet Denis," the girl sighed, as she rubbed her hand over the boy's flat stomach in a slow, circular motion. Her fingers slid furtively beneath the elastic band of his white shorts, caressing his silky, brown pubic hair.

Within moments, the boy's cock began to stir, becoming tumescent against her small hand, then growing larger, making a miniscule tent pole in the front of his shorts. As the girl's fingers wrapped around his hardness, the boy awakened with a mild shudder.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his eyes still closed.

"Be still," the girl cooed, "you'll like it."

The boy loved and trusted the girl, so he let her continue the caresses. Gripping his erection firmly, the girl began to pump it, slowly, at first, then more briskly, until she found a comfortable rhythm. Within time, the boy began to breathe more heavily. Still pressed against the girl's body, he began to undulate against her hand, his strong buttocks tensing and pressing firmly against her burning bush.



2.

"Son of a bitch," I thought, keeping an eye on the slow-moving propane truck lumbering ahead of me, "I'm stranded smack in the middle of another family reunion."

Not that I harbored ill will toward any member of my family, but I preferred interacting with relatives one at a time. Every year, I forced myself to make the long drive south to the small Arizona town in which I was born. My marriage, childless and moribund after twelve years, gave me the perfect excuse to leave behind the wife I no longer loved, at least for a day. Standing outside the red brick VFW hall, I concentrated on the true reason for my attendance.

Taking a deep breath, I took the plunge into a large roomful of my brethren. After some glad-handing, I went through the obligatory recounting of the past year of my life, in detail, to throngs of well-meaning, mostly elderly relatives.

"Where's Lillian?" one of them would always ask, referring to my wife.

"She had to stay home, I'm afraid," I lied. "I think she has a touch of the flu."

Bullshit Excuse #7 worked well, if not used too often. It was perfect for distant relatives with poor memories of the previous year's reunion.

"Oh, what a shame!" cried the short, grey dowager beside him. Aunt Betty emoted so much saccharine passion when she spoke. This gathering seemed to be the only thing that dragged her into the sunlight each year, and she made the most out of it. "That poor, dear girl always has a touch of something."

Hmmm. Old auntie's memory wasn't so bad, after all.

After breaking free of the geriatric crowd, I milled through a smattering of other individuals, lingering on a pretty niece whose well-endowed body belied her extreme youth. Studying the snug, black dress sheathing her ample figure, I tried to guess the color of her pubes, since her short-cropped hair had been severely bleached. Oh, what a sweet little fuck she would be.

"Where's your mother?" I asked the seductive nymphet.

Before the answer could escape from her pouty, red lips, I spotted my asshole brother-in-law, Bill, milling his way toward us. Shit. Bill slid up behind his sexy daughter, squeezing her bare shoulder pronouncedly.

"Well," he asked with that booming, big shot voice of his, "what do you think of her?"

"Let me take her out back for a quick fuck, then I can tell you," I thought to myself, "and with the right coach, namely me, her luscious little mouth could blow cock like a well-paid pro."

"She's a beautiful girl," I replied to Bill, nonchalantly, quelling the tinges of lust in my voice. I envied the lucky guy who would take her cherry, if she still had one. The erotic child shot me a flirtatious glance, as if reading my mind, before disappearing into the crowd.

"Goodbye, little fuck," I mourned silently, "perhaps I can taste your sweet pussy sometime."

Over Bill's pinstriped shoulder, I noticed a cute blonde approaching; Susan, my older sister, and Bill's wife of fourteen years. Well into her second pregnancy and about to pop, she walked with slight difficulty but, to her credit, the black designer maternity dress managed to make her look as sexy as any woman in the room.

"Hello, Denis," Susan twittered in a high, superficial voice. My sister hugged and kissed me distractedly. My arms reached out to encompass her extra girth, as her swollen stomach pressed against me. "How are you, sweetheart?" she asked, as if not caring to know the answer. What a performance.

"Fine," I smiled, observing her condition, "it looks like you're about to give it up."

"Should be any time, now," she sighed, sharing a look with her husband.

I glanced at her breasts, swollen with milk and bigger than they had ever been, even during her first pregnancy, so many years ago. Her enlarged nipples were impossible to conceal. Even with layers of fabric covering them, I could see the distinct, half-moon ridge of an areola. That kid would have a mouthful. As Bill's gaze turned away, I glared at Susan.

"Are you kidding?" my eyes asked her incredulously, referring to her husband. Not yet forty, Bill had obviously begun coloring his thinning hair. Why my sister had stayed with such a dipshit, and for such a long time, I could never understand. Susan gave me that familiar leer.

"Behave yourself," she telepathed.

"Fine," I thought, "as long as I can have some, too."

As I conceded to some bullshit conversation, dominated mostly by Bill, the tension began. I eyed Susan intently, studying her face and the movement of her eyes.

"Look at me, damn it," I begged her silently, "give me a sign." When another alpha-male in-law distracted Bill, I pulled Susan aside.

"So when can we go?" I whispered to my sister, touching her.

"Patience, baby," she smiled gently, "we'll go soon, but we have to be careful." Her hand covered mine, pressing it against her warm skin.

Within fifteen minutes, Susan began to feign illness. She disappeared into the ladies room for a few moments, then returned, looking decidedly peaked. My sister should have won an award. Her husband never suspected. After only minutes, Susan and I escaped on a shaky pretense. My sister needed some fresh air, so I would take her for a drive; a very long drive. She could breathe the dry air, and we could talk and catch up on our lives. Bill would stay at the reunion and chaperone his succulent little piece of jailbait. As for the rest, fuck 'em if they think it odd.

At last, I had Susan to myself. As she entered the air-conditioned vault of my baby blue Oldsmobile, I helped my sister adjust and fasten the lap belt and shoulder harness. Touching her smooth shoulder, I could hardly quell my lust. My lips pressed against her scented neck.

"Careful," she whispered, looking ahead as if I'd done nothing, "we're not free yet."

I gunned the motor and we got the hell away.

The sun waned behind the sand-colored hills in the distance. I had shut off the air conditioner as my sister rolled the windows down. The late-afternoon air blew across my face, carrying a calming, organic scent. We had been driving for about half-an-hour when Susan spotted a decent-looking motel, nestled in a grove of trees, far from the lonely highway.

"This looks fine, babe," she said. Her voice had changed, now that we were alone, into that intimate, loving voice; her real voice, not that of Bill and his fabricated world. Oh yes, sweet sister. I nosed the car onto the gravel drive.

With the gravel crunching beneath the tires, I angled the sedan past the side of the shingled main building, parking out of sight of the highway. The place looked old, but well-kept. The elderly caretaker smelled of pipe smoke and Old Spice. Forty dollars was a pretty good deal for this time of year, but anything would have been a bargain. After retrieving a small, token suitcase from the trunk, I led Susan to our room. The moment the door closed, my sister and I locked in a tight embrace.

"Sweet baby," I whispered in the dim, murky light, "I missed you so much."

"Ohhh, Denis," Susan exhaled, her lips touching my ear, "I really need some love."

The sibling ritual began.

For a sweet, lingering moment, our mouths devoured each other noisily, our tongues lashing out like battling serpents as saliva dampened our faces. Susan practically tore my shirt off, tossing it aside, as I quickly dropped my trousers and boxer shorts. In spite of her condition, my sister lunged forward like a panther, pushing me against the wall. Her open mouth pressed against my chest, kissing it and exploring it with her tongue. I closed my eyes momentarily, lost in the excitement of our long overdue reunion.

"Oh, baby," I shuddered, "you know what I want."

Her lips glistening wetly, Susan began to tease my left nipple with her teeth. The teasing turned into suckling as I moaned with pleasure, pressing my face into her hair. Her hand encircled my cock, squeezing it and stroking it slowly. The scent of my sister's flesh, mixed with that familiar perfume she always wore for me, filled my nostrils as I inhaled deeply. Our bodies pressed together, and my erection poked awkwardly against her swollen belly, making her giggle involuntarily. Breaking her suction, Susan turned her face to mine.

"Get me naked," she whispered.

Susan pulled her hair aside as I unbuttoned the back of her dress. Kissing her neck gently, I pulled the dress away from her shoulders, letting it slip to her feet. Her bare skin reflected the meager light from the bathroom. My fingers nestled in the curve of her back as I led my sister to the king-sized bed.

As we sat on the flowered bedspread, I helped Susan unhook her bra. Gently, I peeled the fabric away from her engorged mounds. Reacting to the cool air, her areolas puckered and her dark, red nipples became hard and pointed. Kneeling at her feet, I slid her panty hose down her parted legs, gazing at her exposed body. As my sister had done since childhood, she kept her sweet little bush trimmed in a perfect triangle. Susan knew how much I loved to press my face into her silky floss. As I reverently kissed the inside of each thigh, I listened to her breathing become more audible, and smelled the gentle musk of her need. Gazing into her beautiful, gleaming brown eyes, I rubbed her swollen stomach.

"It's almost nine months to the day," I smiled, recalling our last meeting. My hands cupped her heavy breasts, lifting them, slightly awestruck by their sheer bulk.

"Suck them," she stated plainly, then, smiling, added, "they'll dribble all over if you don't."

Nuzzling her thick, erect nipple, I began to suckle my sister's breast, pressing my face into the soft, pillowy mound as my hands clasped around her naked, rounded hips. I could hear her sigh with pleasure as I began to draw out mouthful after mouthful of warm, rich milk. Some of the milk escaped the vacuum of my lips, trickling down my chin and across my chest. A rhythmic sucking noise filled my ears as I drained Susan's supply. Soon, the flow of milk began to decrease.

"Get the other one, too," she commanded gently. My hungry mouth released her wet nipple and quickly turned to the other, sucking powerfully, as I knew she liked it. "Mmmm," she moaned, running her fingers through my hair, "I never get tired of this." I knew it was true. I could suck my sister's tits for hours, not only before, but after sex, after we had both come.

Back when we had a fully functioning marriage, my wife's nipples would be very sensitive after sex. She would cover her breasts with her arms, then roll over, facing away from me, as if I'd done something wrong by trying to touch them again. Eventually, I learned the best thing to do was to go to sleep, and leave Lillian to her own devices. With Susan, tit-sucking was merely part of a long, slow buildup to another hot round of sex.

As Susan fed me the last of her milk, my hands slid gently around her waist, down to her thighs. Slowly, my fingers began to brush against her thick, blonde patch of pubic hair, caressing the swollen lips of her cunt. After having one child and preparing for another, her pussy had enlarged considerably. Parting her legs slightly, she sighed.

"Be careful, baby, you might start it," Susan whispered, referring to her late-term pregnancy. But she needed to fuck, and I did, too, and the baby was due anyway.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, I slid between Susan's legs, pressing my hips against hers. With hardly a push, my cock slid into her sopping, wet pussy. Not much friction was there, but none was expected. As I gently began to pump against my sister's pregnant body, I shuddered.

"Oh, God, I love you, Susan."

"Mmmm," she groaned, trying to control her arousal, trying to savor our time together and to make it last for as long as possible, "I love you too, sweet brother."

The motel room filled with the sounds and smells of animalistic, sibling sex.



3.

As children, my sister and I had the same relationship most young siblings do. We were at each other's throats half of the time, and barely tolerating each other the remaining half. About the time I reached puberty, Susan's wild appetites surfaced, and our generic sibling relationship would never be the same. My sister would give "togetherness" a whole new level of meaning; pressing her body against mine as we watched television late at night, exposing herself "by accident" as she exited the steamy bathroom and proceeded to dress, and otherwise teasing me mercilessly when no witnesses could see. By the time I was in high school, the whole game had escalated into more.

Our mother, widowed at thirty-seven, took a full-time job to support her family. Most of the year, her work schedule synchronized with our days at school, so when we were home, so was she. Summertime, though, meant no school for us, and loads of free time to get into mischief. Each weekday morning brought that magic time when mom left for work and we remained home.

"You two stay out of trouble," mom said on most mornings as she rushed out the door. We had to smile. Susan locked the doors and eagerly tended to her younger brother.

Our assigned chores took only an hour or so. Most of the day was spent on my sister's bed, under the soft, warm blankets. Writhing together, our nude bodies coupled quickly, undulating insistently to completion. Susan taught me all she knew about fucking, and I tried very hard to be an ace student. By the afternoon, we had to change her bedsheets, which reeked of sex. A quick jump into the shower made us smell sweet and innocent once again.

"My, you two smell good," mom complimented us on many a summer afternoon, "and you put clean sheets on the bed again."

To my dismay, this dream would not last. Like many independently-minded teenaged girls lacking a strong father figure, Susan developed the hard head of a pack mule and an unwavering resistance to our mother's attempts at authority. Eventually, Susan's activities outside of our loving home had become too much for mom and, after a mother-daughter catfight over Susan's new, lesbian girlfriend, my sister exited the nest.

My sister and her lover, a short, plump, masculine terror named Theresa, took a small apartment in the seedy, low-rent (or trendy, Bohemian, depending on one's outlook) corner of town, down by the university. Of course, I would drop by often, pedaling my red-and-white Schwinn across town immediately after school. Susan had kindly given me a key.

At the time, the dawn of the '80's, Susan endeavored to live the Punk lifestyle, complete with butchered, spiky blue hair that conveyed to the world her status as a Grrl. Theresa, in contrast, had a short, mannish cut dyed to a deep, bloody red which, I thought, perfectly matched her dark personality. What a motley fucking pair they made.

Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. Their relationship started well before Susan left home. Theresa liked them young, as I would soon discover, and had been patrolling the local hangouts for young, rebellious girls. In her early twenties, Theresa was a veteran predator, and soon had my sister wrapped around her chubby little finger. Soon, Theresa would come to the house when our mother was at work, and it didn't take long for her to join in on our incestuous activities.

I became part of their passionate relationship on a dreary, autumn afternoon. I discovered them nude, wrestling on my sister's bed. I knew they made love when mom was out, but had never caught them at it. Susan usually pulled her bedroom door shut.

For the first time, I saw Theresa's nude, Rubenesque body. Her pale skin, covered with freckles and a few tattoos, had a finer texture than I had expected. Occasional patches of stretch marks broke up the ample folds of smooth skin. Her thin, triangular patch had barely a hint of light auburn, and did nothing to conceal her thick, swollen pussy lips. Sensing my presence, Susan turned her gaze toward me.

"You want some, too?" my sister smiled seductively.

"Are you kidding?" I thought to myself. Watching those two going after it could get a dead man hard.

Susan nodded to her lover. Theresa, sensing fresh prey, turned her attention toward me with the intensity of a hungry tigress. Shivering with arousal, I watched as her pudgy fingers peeled away all of my clothes. My sister retreated to the corner of the bed, curling her legs underneath her, gazing intently at her naked, aroused brother. Theresa squeezed my throbbing little weenie, bringing her face near to it. Her full, red lips stopped within an inch of my swollen cock. I waited, glancing up to my sister.

"Well," Susan hissed, her slender fingers firmly smoothing down her wet, matted bush, "suck it, bitch!"

Grinning devilishly, Theresa began to kiss my erection, pressing her thick lips underneath the sensitive helmet and, while Susan watched intently, she began undulating her head against my shaft. The suction Theresa created was incredible. Not even Susan, in her most aggressive blow-jobs, took my young cock in such a forceful manner. Wincing with pleasure, I moaned softly, squirming as I felt my engorged balls slowly disappearing into Theresa's all-consuming mouth. I closed my eyes, consumed with pleasure as Theresa filled the room with a wet, slurping cacophony. After only a couple of minutes, I felt the approaching spasms of a good, hard come.

Theresa felt the twitching of my cock, sensing the oncoming orgasm, and reacted. Pulling her head back, she let my cock loose with a loud, wet smack. Teetering on the edge, I groaned in dismay, reaching for my cock to finish the job. But my tormentor had other plans.

"Uh-uh," Theresa grunted, batting my hand away from my wet pole. She rolled onto her back, siding up to my sister who, I noticed, had started fingering herself gently. Taking me into her arms, Theresa pulled me on top of her body, positioning my hips between her massive thighs. Grasping my throbbing member, she poked it into her sopping, wet snatch. Instinctively, my body took over. After fucking my sister hundreds of times, no thought was needed for this simple action. Arching my back, I began slapping my hips against Theresa's ass with an urgent, staccato rhythm.