tagIncest/TabooComing Home for Christmas

Coming Home for Christmas


"Where is this damn flight. We'll be driving home in the dark if it doesn't arrive soon," said Dad.

The plane from London, the last leg of Malcolm's journey, was still sitting on the runway at Heathrow. Dad cursed himself for not checking the arrivals before we left Dunkeld, an hour north of Edinburgh.

Malcolm, my brother, had been working his way around America. He only planned to be away for three months, but he had found work and stayed for over a year. I couldn't wait for him to get back. Out of the blue, he got in touch with dad to say he was on his way home for Christmas. He was planning on setting up a business in Scotland.

I was so excited to have my big brother back but also disappointed I would only have him for a couple of weeks before I moved back to my flat in Edinburgh where I was midway through a foundation course in Fine Art. As I readied myself for the car journey to the airport I imagined him popping in to see me in town and the special times we would have together.

On the hour drive to the airport, I sat up front with dad where we argued about music and played the games we had played on car journeys for years, then told stories and made each other laugh.

At the airport, as late afternoon turned into evening, Dad became more irritable. He was hoping it wouldn't snow. We wandered the airport shops and ate sandwiches for tea before slowly making our way back to the arrival gates.

"It's cold in here," I said, wrapping my arms around myself.

"I'm not surprised you're cold, with what you're wearing. You look like you're going out to one of your clubs, not picking up your brother from the airport.

"I wanted to dress up for him coming back."

"Dress up? You're barely wearing anything.

"This is what we wear, dad!"

I was wearing a blue halter-neck, white mini skirt and heels. It was the closest I could get to the outfit I had worn at Malcolm's leaving party last year. The skirt was the same one. My original top was stained so I had bought a replacement.

I had a fuller figure and my breasts were bigger. When Malcolm left home I felt like a girl. Now I was a woman. My time at college had made me more sure of myself, more extrovert, more daring! So much so, today I'd left the bra at home. That was maybe a mistake, considering how long we were having to hang around Edinburgh Airport. Dad didn't seem to have noticed my nipples, but I could feel them rubbing against my halter neck and tingling in the cold air. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Why don't you go and buy yourself a drink," dad said. "Warm yourself up!"

"Thanks, but too much coffee makes me pee." I replied.

He held out a twenty-pound note. "I'll have a soda water, but one of us might as well enjoy themselves in this joyless hellhole. After all, it is the season to be jolly!"

I wasn't going to argue with the man. I snatched the twenty before he changed his mind and marched off to find a bar.

At the bar, there were two middle-aged men sitting on bar stools, ogling the pretty, blonde bar maid. While she poured my drinks, one of the men started up a conversation. "You waiting for someone? Delayed London flight is it?" he said, slurring slightly. He had clearly been sitting at the bar for some time. He looked like he might have been handsome once but now he reeked of the too many nights on the road, faceless hotel rooms and desperate sales patter.

I nodded.

After looking me up and down he addressed my tits. "Lucky man who's got you meeting him tonight."

"It's my brother."

He waved his hand and leered at me. "Oh, sorry. No offense."

I took a sip of gin then, feeling brave, stepped towards him and thrust my breasts out so they almost touched him. "No offense taken. Do you think he'll like my tits?"

"They are, er... very... eh... pretty," He said, licking his lips.

I leaned in closer and spoke into his ear but loud enough his companion could also hear. "I can't wait to get my brother home so I can rub his cock up and down with these babies and have him fuck me the way only my big brother can. And I mean 'big'!"

His face flushed bright red, his companion choked on his drink and sprayed beer over the bar. The bar maid, who must have also heard, said "Fuck!" then dropped a pint glass she was pouring beer into. The sound of the glass smashing on the floor was accompanied by another "Fuck!" from the bar maid. I turned and walked back to dad with my drinks, leaving the bar in chaos.

Back with dad, I sipped by gin and stared out at the dark sky. My mind drifted to thinking about Malcolm. I had always been slightly jealous of my friends who lusted after him at school. I couldn't really join in the conversation, but I understood their teenage girl fascination with him. He was the coolest and best-looking kid in school, although I used to tell my friends the only reason Malcolm was so attractive was because he surrounded himself with fuckwits and freaks. It was rumoured he had shagged Miss Laing, a young English teacher, and had threesomes with Miss Thurston, a thirty-year-old PE teacher, and her girlfriend who was a police officer. He had certainly broken the hearts of two of my friends who had fallen out over him and not spoken since, but separately they talked of their orgasmic experiences with him. It was embarrassing to hear he was quite the stud, but I was also curious and turned on by their chat.

While my friends were sexually active, and seemed to have a rota system whereby they all got to fuck my brother, I had had less experience with the opposite sex. At Malcolm's leaving party, the night before he headed off on his adventure, I was more interested in fingering myself than being chatted up by his idiot friends. I had been pleasuring myself for years but only recently achieved an orgasm. I was still struggling to repeat the fantastic feeling, and it was becoming a bit of an obsession.

His leaving party was at our house and I danced for a while until the urge to sneak off to play with myself became too strong. With the party in full swing it was easy for me to slip upstairs to my room.

I put on some music, took off my panties and sat legs spread on my bed, my white mini skirt hitched up around my waist. I closed my eyes and explored my pussy. I rubbed myself, fingered myself, put my hairbrush handle inside my wet slit. It felt wonderful, but the orgasm eluded me.

I don't know how long I had been at it but when I opened my eyes, Malcolm was standing at the end of my bed. I looked at him with shock and embarrassment. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. He sat down beside me and put a hand on my thigh.

"I'm going to miss you," he said. "I'm going to miss you too," I started to say, but he stopped me by leaning in and kissing me on the mouth. I was shocked. He gently lay me on my back and kissed and caressed my neck. He took my fingers in his mouth and kissed and licked them before placing them back on my pussy. He guided my fingers over my clit before introducing the touch of his own fingers.

"Let me help you," he said. "Something for you to remember me by."

His touch was firm and assured. He slid down my body until his face was in line with my pussy and he wove his magic with his tongue. He looked me in the eyes and told me I looked sexy and felt amazing. Minutes later, with his tongue having flicked and lapped my clit into submission, I shuddered to orgasm. Then he pushed two strong fingers inside my pussy and massaged my clitoris from inside, while licking my inner and outer lips, until I came again. This time it was deeper and more intense.

As I lay there in a sexual fog, he pulled up my top and undid my strapless bra. He pulled off his trousers and straddled my naked midriff, his balls resting on my belly.

"Now, it's my turn to come," he said.

I pushed myself up on my elbows, anxious to see his erection. He could not have known I'd spied on him wanking and sometimes fantasized about touching his cock, but it felt the most natural thing in the world to take his rock-hard dick in my hand. Spying on him, I had seen the type of porn my step-brother liked, and I wanted to please him. It aroused me, holding his cock and knowing my body was a thing of pleasure for him.

I rubbed his cock head over and between my breasts. I wanked him off with long, hard strokes, like I had seen him do to himself. I said, "cum on my tits," like I'd heard women say in the films he spanked off to. Saying those words made me feel dirty, wanton and hot.

Malcolm didn't need to be told twice. His cock pulsated in my hand and hot streams of spunk splashed between my tits and onto my top. I gasped in delight and, rubbing his cum into my skin, fell back on the bed, sexually exhausted. He rested on top of me and took me in his arms.

"You're the best!" he whispered as I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up in the morning I was alone, and Malcolm was on his way to the airport.

Being fucked by my step-brother eclipsed every other sexual experience I had, before and after he left. I started going out to bars and clubs and had a string of short and shorter relationships. I couldn't be satisfied by these boys who were too lazy, inept or stupid to find their way around a woman's body. Two months after he left, I received a text from Malcolm on my birthday. He asked how I was doing. I sent him back a picture of me in my birthday suit and one word, 'Frustrated!'. He sent me a picture of himself with some blonde wanking him off. She was wearing a white mini skirt and a blue halter neck; the same outfit I had worn the night we ended up together. Was this coincidence? I sent him a picture of me in denim shorts and black crop top. I was sucking a cock, some random in a night club toilet. I received a picture back of Malcolm being sucked off by a girl wearing the same clothes.

It became a game. I enjoyed dressing up and getting attention from men but what drove me was the knowledge that I was driving Malcolm wild. Plus, he had the difficult task of finding girls who would replicate the photos, and the clothes needed for the task. It sometimes took him weeks to reply with a photo but he always succeeded. After a couple of more exotic costumes I started buying clothes I knew he could replicate, so he could send pictures more frequently. One time he managed to reply to my message within about an hour. He replicated a picture of me wearing a Ramones t-shirt and with cum spunked over my hair, with a girl wearing a Ramones t-shirt and his cum in her hair, while I was still washing the cum out of my own hair.

"That's the plane in now," said Dad. I started to get nervous. When Malcolm strode into the arrival hall I almost wet myself. I ran up and gave him a massive hug. He put his arms round me and gave my bum a quick feel.

"I can't wait to get home," I said. I had to stop myself from snogging him.

"You're looking great, Sis," he said, making sure he got an eyeful of my tits. "Fuck," he said quietly, "I can't wait to..." He laughed. "Let me say hello to dad first."

After the two of them had hugged, we made our way out to the car. Malcolm had two trolleys of bags with him.

"There's no way all this will fit in the car," said dad.

"Don't worry Pops, It'll be fine, Malcolm said. "Pops? Don't call me Pops!"

"Yeah, don't call Pops Pops, okay." I said and giggled.

We made our way back to the car.

"Is all this yours?" dad asked for the tenth time. "I'm sure you never left with all this crap." He shook his head and grumbled under his breath while pushing a trolley laden with bags.

"Some of this crap is your Christmas presents, but if you don't want it..." Malcolm was starting to get annoyed with dad's moaning. I had forgotten how much they used to bicker. "Is he always this miserable?" Malcolm asked me.

"Only when he's been waiting around in a 'joyless hellhole', his words, for half the day, waiting for his bastard son, again his words," I replied with a laugh.

"It's hardly my fault the flight was delayed."

"No, but if you hadn't have come home, dad and I wouldn't be here, would we?"

"But you're glad I'm here, aren't you?"

"Would I be dressed like this if I wasn't?"

"Nice touch," said Malcolm and winked at me.

I watched as Malcolm and dad tried every which way to fit all Malcolm's luggage into the car. After more pushing, shoving and cursing, Dad gave up and went and sat in the driver's seat. "I'm too old for this. You sort it and tell me when you are done and ready to go home," he said. Eventually the job was done.

"Doesn't leave a lot of room to sit, "Malcolm said.

"Understatement of the year," I said. The boot, the passenger seat and most of the back seat were packed with luggage. There was enough room for one of us to sit in reasonable comfort behind the driver's seat. "So, are you walking home, then?" I asked. "You'll have to sit on my lap," he replied.

"Fuck off!" I thought it would be odd if I readily sat on his lap for a drive of over an hour, so I acted all pissed off.

"Then what do you suggest?" Malcolm asked.

"How about you sit on this," I said, showing him the finger, "or you could fuck off back to the USA."

Dad beeped the horn. "Get in the car, or you can both walk home." He started the engine. He was truly fed up now. It had been a long day and he had a long drive in the dark ahead of him. As glad as he was to see his son, he was now quite grumpy. He didn't like driving in the dark and then the pitter patter of rain started.

"My nips are perishing," I said quietly. "I think we should get in the car."

"Get in then. I'll warm them up." Malcolm rubbed his hands together and got into the back seat.

l clambered in after him and sat down on his lap. With the door closed there was little room to move. Malcolm put his arms around my waist and nestled his hands in my lap. "Are you ready to go," asked dad. "l can't see anything apart from bags in the rear view." "Perfect!" Malcolm whispered.

"We're not going to get a seatbelt on, back here." I said.

"I better not crash then," said the old man and floored it. Seconds later he reached the exit barrier and slammed the brakes on. I was jolted forward and back into Malcolm, who instinctively grabbed hold of my tits and gave them a good grope.

"Careful, Dad. You're carrying precious cargo back here." Malcolm bounced my lady lumps to emphasize his point. It was just as well dad couldn't see what was going on or he would have crashed the car.

Once on the motorway, Dad turned on Talksport on the radio. This meant he was not in the mood for chat. The rain quickly became heavy. It bashed into the windscreen and thudded against the metalwork. The windscreen wipers chugged away. Dad turned the radio up and ploughed through the driving rain to get home.

In the back of the car, I leaned into my brother and enjoyed the sensation of him playing with my boobs. It wasn't long before I became aware of stirrings underneath me. I instinctively open my legs and felt between them. I touched myself and Malcolm, using both hands to rub our inner thighs. I could feel his cock straining through his trousers, poking into my arse. I gently squeezed his balls and slowly gyrated on his lap. I didn't want any sudden moves or noises to alert dad to what we were doing only a couple of feet away from him. The car vibrations, the enclosed, dark space and being with the man I'd been lusting after for a year all intensified the experience.

Malcolm slipped a hand into my lap and started rubbing my inner thigh. "Get my phone for me. It's in my right-side pocket."

I squeezed my hand into his jeans pocket and retrieved his phone. Malcolm turned on the phone and started flicking though pictures. All the pictures I had sent him during his time away. I couldn't believe how many dicks I'd sucked. I turned to him in the glow of the phone. "Looking at porn with your sister on your lap? Nice!" I said out the corner of my mouth. "Always knew you were a perv."

"You love it," he replied. He popped a finger in my mouth. I sucked it hungrily, wishing it was his cock.

"I need to stop for a pee," Dad shouted from the front. "Chance to stretch your legs." Malcolm put a hand over my mouth. He said "Catherine's asleep. I'll be fine." He pulled aside my damp panties - I should have left them at home with my bra - and rubbed the outside of my pussy. By the time dad had parked at the petrol station, Malcolm had a finger inside me. I pushed myself onto it. I bit my lip, closed my eyes and pretended to sleep until dad got out the car and walked across the garage forecourt.

"How long until we get home?" I asked.

"Dunno! Twenty or thirty minutes," Malcolm said.

"I can't wait that long. I want you inside me. I mean your cock this time. Quick! Get your trousers off before dad gets back."

When dad got back in the car, I was pretending to be asleep under a picnic blanket he kept on the back window of the car. Beneath this outwardly wholesome scene, something more perverted was happening. Malcolm had his trousers round his ankles and my panties in his pocket. His cock was throbbing inside my willing pussy. His cock head was rubbing against the inside wall, targeting my g-spot like a hot love torpedo. When Dad started the car engine, the vibrations sent me into overdrive. Malcolm quickly stuffed my panties in my mouth to muffle my moans.

"Everything alright back there?" shouted dad.

"Fine, dad," replied Malcolm. "How about some music?"

"Aye, okay. They're talking shite anyway," dad said, referring to the football pundits on Talksport. He pressed a button on the side of the steering wheel.

"Oh my, my, my, my, my my my!" The opening bars of "Let's Spend the Night Together" by the Rolling Stones blasted out of the car speakers. Dad was a big Stones fan who liked to play them loud. I couldn't see him, but I was sure dad would be drumming along on the steering wheel. "Perfect choice," Malcolm whispered in my ear.

The music vibrated through the car seats. I moved in time to the music, emboldened by the thumping bass of the Stones, aroused by the throbbing of Malcolm's cock. As we drove through the outskirts of Dunkeld in the dark, an orgasm started to build inside me. My fingernails dug into Malcolm's legs. Then the amazing feeling hit me, sending wave after wave of pleasure through my body. My toes curled inside my too tight shoes, my eyes rolled in the back of my head and my whole body shook. Malcolm pulled me to him, his hot hands running up and down my body, feeling me over and under my clothes. My legs, my pussy, my breasts, my neck burned with desire. He was a master of pleasure and I was his plaything.

His cock seemed to grow bigger and hotter inside me. It was hitting just the right spot, sending me over the edge again. The barest touch of my clit made my body convulse. Malcolm's was breathing faster. He, too, was on the edge of coming. Out of the window I recognised our street. "This is it," I said through gritted teeth.

The car tyres hit the cobble stones. The car shook. The music thumped. Malcolm pumped load after load of his magnificent cum into me.

I was awash with our love juices. "We're home," I sighed.

Dad was straight out of the car. "I'm knackered," he said. "Let's get this stuff inside and then I'm going to bed. We can catch up in the morning, Malcolm."

"Sure thing, dad," said Malcolm from the back seat. "I have to say, I'm pretty fucked, too. In you go to bed and we'll see you in the morning."

"Language, Malcolm," said dad. He had already grabbed two cases out of the boot and was marching towards the house.

"My legs are like rubber," I said to my brother. "Think I'll leave you to take your bags in. I'm going to get cleaned up. I disentangled myself from his cock and clambered out of the car.

After peeing and giving myself a wash I still stunk of sex. Not only that, I wanted more, and I wanted to give Malcolm more. I caught up with him on the stairs. "Dad's gone to bed," he said. "Just one more load to bring in after these cases. You could give me a hand if you like. I want to give you your Christmas present"

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