Brother and Sister ReunionbyNightwaves©
"Damn, kid," Theresa gasped with her thick French Canadian accent, "you've done this before, eh?"
Little did she know. As I rode Theresa's fat, yielding body, I watched my sister out of the corner of my eye. Susan's index finger blurred against her wet, hard clit. All three of us began to moan in unison, all approaching climax.
Susan whimpered with arousal. "Oh yeah," her voice quivered, "that's it. That's it!"
As my sister slapped her pussy through one orgasm, then two, I blew my load into Theresa, crying out with completion. Theresa, not yet satisfied, glared at me.
"Don't you stop fucking until I'm done!" she commanded angrily.
Susan's fingers, slick with juices, reached out to tease one of Theresa's huge nipples. Growling like a bitch dog in heat, Theresa clamped her powerful thighs around my body, forcing my cock as far into her hole as it could possibly go. Rallying after my initial orgasm, I continued pumping against this crazy girl and, like a rag doll caught in the claws of a wild beast, held on for dear life. Theresa's scent, much stronger than my sister's, invaded the room. It was acrid and feral, and concentrated my thoughts on one simple act. An erotic diversion had now conflagrated into animalistic rape as both of our bodies dripped with fresh sweat.
Now Susan's fingers began sliding down my back, to my ass. As I labored against Theresa's body, working toward another orgasm, my sister's hand slowly massaged my tensing, undulating buttocks. Soon, her hand slid between my sweaty thighs, her fingers brushing against my swollen balls. She knew that would make her dear brother come yet again.
"How does her pussy feel?" Susan whispered breathily into my ear as I fucked her lover. "Is it slick like mine?" To our mutual delight, Theresa orgasmed as I shot yet another load.
This bizarre triangle continued for several months, often every day that mom was not home. Now Susan and I had to change the smelly sheets, plus whisk Theresa out the door before Mom returned from work.
"My God," Susan grimaced, opening a window after a particularly long and nasty free-for-all, "Theresa's pussy smell just won't go away." There were several close calls, but mom never hinted that she suspected anything unusual.
Soon the family fight erupted and my sister moved out. Susan thrashed wildly with her new freedom, spreading her body around without a thought, but also taking the full blows of consequence. Her relationship with Theresa was far from exclusive. Months passed, then a year. Our incestuous meetings became more infrequent, as Susan's thighs were busy handling a lot of other traffic. Theresa, nurturing full-blown drug addiction, became emotionally erratic, often violent. Susan tired of the fighting and, with the help of a court order, Theresa and her rage faded from the scene.
Meanwhile, my life at home with mom proceeded with relative ease. Mostly, I was bored shitless, coming home from school in the afternoon to do a few chores, play basketball in the driveway, or watch a movie on the new VCR mom had bought. During the summer, I would work part-time at the supermarket, bagging groceries, but that still left a great deal of free time on my hands. My friends, some of them female, would drop by on occasion, or I would go out on an official "date", but I never stopped thinking of Susan. When I found some privacy, my jeans and shorts would drop to my knees, and I would stroke my aching cock, thinking of my sister and how much I needed her touch. During this time, I spent countless days in solitude, masturbating and coming, over and over, until my dick burned with abuse. Things had to change, and I made a pact with myself to get back into my sister's life.
With Theresa's departure, I began frequenting Susan's apartment more often. It became a retreat of sorts, that is, when she didn't have "guests". It had a quasi-Spartan decor, sort of a goofy clash of garish colors with a slight twinge of nihilism (in my opinion, the early '80's was not a time for anything tasteful). The frenzied, makeshift quality of the apartment conveyed the chaos of my sister's life and her countless sexual liaisons. Susan must have longed for her brother, too. I quickly noticed that she would always welcome me in, and whoever might have been there at the time was quickly whisked away.
As became her habit, my sister confided to me her most recent encounters. Lying on the dark green futon pad Susan had spread on the floor (it doubled as a bed whenever sleep or sex was needed), we retreated into our private world. My sister, resting her head on my chest, recounted her ongoing parade of sexual encounters. Before their final parting, Susan told me of her fights with Theresa, and their passionate make-up sessions. After that, she concentrated on her numerous other lovers. Her soft, cooing little-girl voice caressed each four-lettered word and erotic scenario as her hand rested on my thigh.
"Then, just when the two frat guys stuck their cocks in my ass and pussy," Susan confessed casually, "this sorority chick sticks her furry cunt in my face." Her fingers twitched on my jeans. "So, what else can I do but start muff-diving, too."
She squirmed a bit. I could always smell the scent of her arousal. It wasn't from her pussy; not a musky odor, but more a fresh, gentle scent from the pores of her skin. Can one detect the scent of pheromones?
"The guy in my ass was pretty small, thank God," Susan continued, "but this other guy, Roy, I think, had this monster dong. My pussy almost couldn't handle it, and then there was this old guy watching us in the corner. I think he was someone's dad."
The moment she sensed the lump in my crotch, her fingers slid toward it, running around the edges. She looked up at me, watching my face, as she rambled on.
"Anyhow, this chick had the biggest bush. I had to poke my tongue through this fuckin' forest before I got to her clit. Then she starts gushing all over my face. I had to swallow a couple times before she came. Then this old guy starts jacking off, just looking at us like some fuckin' serial killer."
Susan sensed me breathing more heavily. Her little scenario had created the desired effect. As she had done for many glorious years, my big sister slowly unzipped my jeans and pulled out my aching cock. I gazed at her through half-closed eyes, watching her soft face draw near to it. Her mouth opened, and a sly, teasing tongue would come out and tickle the underside of my shaft.
Her baby-skin, almost unchanged since she took her first exploratory kisses against my young cock, glowed warmly. Her mouth quickly engulfed me with warm, wet friction and her cheeks bowed with a steady suction. Sighing deeply, I closed my eyes, gently placing my hand on the back of her undulating head, as the sweet noise of hydraulic slurping filled my ears.
In the still silence of the motel room, we came yet again.
Breathing heavily, I pulled my wet, glistening cock from Susan's body. Drained after two strong orgasms, I retreated, sitting on my heels. Slack-jawed, I gazed vacantly at my sister's wet, matted pussy, sorting out the disjointed thoughts in my head. I had given her a thoroughly messy ride. Gently, her hand slid into mine. I squeezed it firmly, studying the details of her face. Her thighs glistened, still apart, as if ready for more loving. Her beautiful face had that familiar, post-orgasmic softness I knew very well. Catching my breath, I studied the dated orange-and-brown pattern on the wallpaper behind the headboard of our conjugal bed. Looking back down at my lover, I observed fresh lines corralling the corners of her mouth. Susan broke the silence.
"I'm leaving Bill."
A warm glow surged through my body as my sister pulled me forward to lie beside her.
"What will you do?" I asked, fighting to keep my elation under control.
"Collect alimony. Work. Who the fuck knows?" She furrowed her brow. Susan's face surrendered more easily to deep creases these days. She still hated planning her life too far into the future.
Propping myself on a pillow, I watched the movement of her face, silhouetted in the dim light, as she continued.
"That faggot stopped touching me the moment I got pregnant," she spat, "but it didn't matter anyway. I could never come." After pausing for a moment, she continued. "Fuck this bullshit," her eyes closed tightly, "I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of trying to meet everyone's fucked-up expectations."
"What about Beth?" I asked, referring to her daughter, the nymphet at the reunion, "and," I placed my hand on her swollen stomach, "this."
Susan closed her eyes, near tears.
"The fucker's never home, so how would he know the difference?" she whispered, "Beth isn't his anyway, but he's too dumb to see that."
"And the baby," I added.
"No," she choked, turning her penetrating, wet eyes toward mine.
My hand caressed her face, wiping away the tear streaks. In my mind, I had already left my wife to support the sister who was going to need all the help she could get.
"Just fuck me," she pleaded.
We needed to be getting back to the reunion but, at that moment, neither one of us cared. The charade was becoming dangerously close to an end. Susan's tears tasted salty as I kissed her eyes and face.
"Please fuck me now," she repeated, her voice frail with resignation, "I just want to feel good for awhile," she shuddered, "I hardly ever feel good anymore."
I positioned my body between her still-open thighs and, easily sliding my still-wet cock into my sister's body, began pumping away.
I remembered the dark nights in my bedroom before Susan left home. My sister devoured my cock, the slurping echoing off the walls, but the fear of Mom discovering us never prevented me from coming. Mom slept soundly, or so I hoped, as my sister paid her nightly visits. Thinking back on those days, I hardly ever came without my sister present. Susan kept her brother drained of any come and any need to come. Her slurping grew louder, bringing me back from my dream.
Blearily, I opened my eyes, staring vacantly at the ceiling in Susan's apartment, lying on the futon as my sister concentrated on drawing yet another load from my body. Suddenly, I felt Susan's body move, repositioning itself. My eyes focused to be greeted by my sister's golden-downed cunt. Her mouth released its hold my cock for a split second.
"Eat me," she whispered, then returned to her business.
Clasping my hands around Susan's smooth thighs, I pressed my mouth to her already-sopping orifice. Immediately, I heard her moan and felt the vibration of her mouth on my pulsing helmet as I plunged my tongue deep into my sister's canal. Her sucking became more vigorous as I brought my tongue back toward her swollen clit. I could feel her bracing herself, pushing her ass against my face and grinding her cunt against my open mouth. My hands snaked up under her tank top, caressing her smooth flesh. My hands passed over her hard-tipped globes, giving them a gentle squeeze before returning my hands to her thighs.
Susan's steady, rhythmic action against my cock started to take its toll. I had to fight to concentrate on her pussy. My fingers began to rub her swollen cunt lips. That, plus my involuntary moaning, was pushing her to the brink.
I knew I would come soon. At that moment, I assaulted Susan's pussy with concentrated licks to her clit. I knew the exact spot that my sister loved to have worked over. With my fingers spreading her pussy wide, my tongue assaulted her slick button. Susan grunted and swayed a bit, but she never let up on the even pumping of my dick. At that moment, the dam broke.
"Oh, God, YES!" I moaned loudly, my voice muffled by my sister's ass. For a few seconds, I broke my assault on her pussy, pressing my cheek against her sopping wet cunt, shuddering as wave after wave of come erupted from my cock into her hungry mouth. She held a strong suction on my tool until the spasms subsided. I heard her choke slightly, but it didn't stop her from swallowing it all. Susan knew how her brother liked it.
I was eager to make my sister come, to service her as well as she had serviced me. I pressed my open mouth against her cunt, plunging my tongue deep into her lovely orifice. Her heavenly scent intoxicated me. Immediately, she began to undulate against my face.
"Mmmm, yes, baby," Susan's voice quivered, "lick it right there." Her ass moved to the rhythm of my darting tongue. "Ohhh, yeah! That's it. Lick my spot. Lick my sweet spot!"
My hands and face felt my sister's ass tensing as her orgasm approached. She yelped.
"Oh, God, honey, I'm there, my love, I'M THERE!"
Her ass convulsed as she came. My face, coated with her juices, wriggled against her crotch as she collapsed with the onslaught of the orgasm. I had to hold my breath as my sister came and came, squeezing her ass cheeks against my face, covering it, squeezing out the sweet, sublime lightning that shot through her pussy.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she babbled, exhaustedly humping my face as I licked her crotch clean. She finally ceased motion as my tongue cleaned up the last of her mess.
I collapsed backward as she rolled onto her side, both of us panting like marathon runners. My head and shoulders felt like lead weights. Exhausted from coming, I slowly drifted into a trance. Susan's breathing slowly turned into the light wisps of a sleeping, satisfied sister.
Countless years later, the details of that night, and the following morning, haven't faded one iota from my memory. Although the sex that night was nothing extraordinary for us, it marked, for me, the realization of my life's passion.
The first light of day finally caused me to blink open my eyes. The sound of Susan's slow, steady breathing filled my ears. For a long time, I lie, motionless, absorbing the details of the room in the early light. The musty night air still hung inside the apartment, having casually lingered in throughout the previous evening.
After an eternity, I dragged myself up, carefully, as to not wake my sister, and crept into the bathroom. I urinated, then removed my disheveled clothes, hanging them on a hook behind the bathroom door. Reaching into the closet, I pulled out an old, tattered bathrobe. Slipping it on, I made my way into the kitchen and began searching through the cabinets for something to eat.
Christ, the shit my sister kept in those cabinets! Twinkies. Powdered stuff. Yuck. Reaching far back, past an ancient box of Wheat Thins, I retrieved the can of coffee I had left there almost a year before.
After rinsing the funk out of a battered aluminum coffee pot, I filled it halfway with tepid water, followed by several tablespoons of stale Columbian Blend. Striking a large, white-tipped kitchen match, I lit the burner of the ancient gas stove. Placing the coffee pot atop the undulating blue-yellow blossom of flame, I watched and waited for the brew to boil.
At that moment, 9:54am, Sunday, April 18, 1982, I silently surrendered to my sister. I doubted if I could live without her. After ages of mutual shoulder-leaning, warm closeness and lots of raw, nasty fucking, I realized, as the scent of simmering coffee reached my olfactory senses, there was no alternative. Like my young adult mind imagined a married couple to be, we had become one. I knew the terrain of my sister's body better than my own face. Often, I would flash back to our first sexual encounter. Susan's body shifted clumsily as she lowered herself onto my cock for the first time. I could see myself, agape with wonder, barely comprehending the new experience and at the same time slowly sinking into the sexual addiction that would direct our relationship from then on.
Quietly, I turned on Susan's little black-and-white TV, perched on what passed for a coffee table in the center of her apartment. I rotated the whip antenna until some semblance of an image materialized on the screen. Settling into the big, overstuffed sofa, I watched the snowy, flickering screen with the volume turned down until the weather report came on.
Eventually, my eyes wandered over to my sister, sprawled nude in a mess of disheveled bedclothes. I studied the details of her soft, young body. How much I needed her, I knew. The warm closeness of someone I had known all of my life. In spite of our perennial arguments, our mutual love and needfulness never ceased.
Mom had long ago figured out where I spent so many nights. She knew nothing of our intimacy, or so I believed. Mom never domineered over me, which surprised me in light of her treatment of Susan. Perhaps she reasoned that I was a young man and, as long as she knew my whereabouts, there was no cause for worry. She could, and would, interrogate me, in that gentle way of hers, mostly without success.
It was the weekend, so I lingered, savoring the coffee, watching the snowy, flickering images on TV. As the morning wore on, the noises outside of our intimate cocoon increased. Being near the university, the neighborhood usually bustled with college students, more so when they were out for the weekend, but no one ever disturbed us, with the exception of Susan's cronies.
After a stoned ex-lover of Susan's burst in on us, mid-coitus, in the middle of the night, she painted a large, unmistakably blunt sign to hang on the door when she wished to shut out the world: KEEP THE FUCK OUT!!! I checked the front door often to make sure the red and black sheet of plywood remained there.
Stepping into the warm spray of the shower, I rubbed Susan's feminine-smelling soap all over my body, washing my hair, letting the water caress me. Grabbing the cleanest towel I could find, I returned to the living room, letting the cool draft from the tiny air conditioner envelop my body. My sister, as always, slept deeply and lengthily. Rubbing myself to some degree of dryness, I slid back under the blankets next to my sister's hot, radiant body. I pressed against her, letting my hand rest across her smooth belly.
Pressing my face against her hair, I inhaled her natural scent, closing my eyes blissfully. I held her nude body against mine. Our flesh pressed together, creating an adhesive sheen between us. Time passed, and the afternoon came. The angle of the sun had gone away from the big window in the main room, changing the shadows surrounding us. At last, my sister made waking noises. Her body twitched and shifted, pressing against me. She whispered.
"Theresa?" she questioned, her head turning slightly. Susan's breakup with Theresa was still fresh, and she had a habit of losing track of time.
I didn't reply, but rubbed her soft shoulder, nuzzling her hair gently. Susan sighed and shifted again. My body was nothing like Theresa's plump, full-breasted figure. Her hand made its way to my thigh, rubbing it gently. Arching her back slightly, she rubbed her ass lightly against my groin with a slightly demanding moan.
Oh yes, sweet sister.
I rubbed my hand across her hip, clasping it, pulling her ass cheeks apart slightly as my growing cock inched its way into her crack. We both needed some more.
My hips began moving against her as I worked my cock against her sweet wet spot, slowly moving deeper into her body. She gasped and moaned more loudly as I pushed myself in as far as I could go. Holding my sister tightly, I began thrusting against her ass, feeling the slick aftermath of our sex the night before. My speed was not hurried, and not slow, but thorough and loving, the snug cave of her pussy caressing my cock, taking care of her needs and satiating the needs she had fired in me.
Oh, sweet sister, my eternal love. Sex was the salve that soothed our young years. The bumps and jolts of growing up, what Susan and I didn't solve with love, patience and words, we satisfied with fucking. It was the spackle that filled our cracks.