Dying to Fuck My Sister

"I've been thinking about that. When did the doctor say you had 30 days left?"

"You don't trust my Doctor now? He was the second opinion."

"No, I mean..." How could I say it delicately. "Did the countdown begin on the day he told you?"

"Oh I see," he said, getting up from the beach chair. "I've got a month left to live and you're trying to shave a few days off."

He pushed past me into the house. He was still smiling.

"I'm sorry," I said, following after. "I'm just trying to calculate how much time..." My voice faltered.

"25 days. If we take the guy literally," he said. "You happy now?"

"But he could have been approximating? Which means he could be wrong and it's actually longer?"

"He's not wrong."

"But if we don't take him literally, it could be longer?"

James grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge.

"If you're trying to get out of having to pity-fuck me, you can just say so." he said.

He obviously thought this was funny, but it was unnecessarily cruel.

My eyes filled with tears while he drank a great gulp of milk from the carton.

"Guess my jokes aren't landing this morning," he said, wiping the cream from his lip.

"I promised myself I wouldn't cry before Noon today," I said in a respite from my tears.

"EH-EHH," he said, making the buzzer sound for a wrong answer.

"And I'm not trying to get out of anything," I said. "I've been true to my word and let you do whatever you want with me. But I can't laugh at jokes about losing you. And is it so wrong I want to believe you have longer?"

I collapsed into floods of tears.

I wanted to add, and it isn't a pity-fuck anymore, it's the real thing. But I really was the one lacking courage, so I kept that part to myself.

James rushed over. He sat me up on the counter and held me tightly.

"And now you end up having to comfort me," I said, sobbing into his neck. "When I'm supposed to be comforting you!"

"You want some comfort?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, blowing my nose on a piece of kitchen towel.

The next moment his face was in my neck, and his hands were beneath my sweater, massaging my tits. My nipples were already hard. Then he was tearing open my shirt and pulling my body up to the edge of the counter; the piece of kitchen towel still in my hand.

Within seconds my clothes were on the floor, and without removing any of his own, he pulled out his cock from the waistband of his sweatpants. It was arrestingly hard, and quite beautiful.

I couldn't help but balk at the idea it had been hammering away at my poor ass for half the night. But I felt a thrill at what he was going to do with it now.

He collected some saliva from the back of his throat and spat onto its impressively fat head. And then he pushed it effortlessly into my pussy and began to fuck me.

He was practically lifting me from the counter, bouncing me up and down on him. I had never been fucked so hard or so athletically.

For some of the time, I wasn't even sat. I was held aloft in the air purely by his rigid cock. I had to grip the slab of cold granite beneath me in order to stay close enough to his body because his thrusts were slapping me away; even as his strong arms fought to reign me back in.

My body began to tremor and my eyes disappeared into my head as an orgasm struck. I could see a dazzling array of luminescent colors; my ears were ringing and my skin seemed to vibrate.

When I opened my eyes, he pulled out and shot multiple thick streams of cum over my belly and chest. It seemed to just keep flowing; until my tits were covered, and it was dripping from my nipples like melted ice cream.

The orgasm made me feel quite emotional, not least because it had already been inspired by my first tear-gasm of the day. But also because the more sex I had with my brother, the more it felt like he was burrowing into my soul; making me need him. Like some kind of dark conjuring trick.

I'd never thought of my brother as anything but a light presence and energy. But there was something seductively dark and disturbed about his sexual self. Or was it his dying self.

Rather than let me get dressed or leave the counter, he kept me sat there naked. He began to gather the cum from my tits with two of his fingers and feed it to me.

I've never had an appetite for cum - and never voluntarily swallowed any; it tastes like salted mucus and oysters to me. And yet my brother could have been feeding me butterscotch hazelnut, that's how deliciously it hit my palette.

He didn't stop at one or two mouthfuls, but proceeded to feed me all the cum he could find that had not yet dissolved. I sucked it hungrily off his fingers, and swallowed it down dutifully like a good sister.

What was I becoming?

I felt terrified by the size of my feelings. They had grown faster and more ferociously than a house fire.

When I'd finished sucking the last drop off his thumb, I closed my eyes and puckered my lips to kiss him.

I was ready to surrender.

But he left me hanging.

I opened my eyes a few seconds later to investigate the delay.

He'd gone. He had simply wandered upstairs.

It was strange how he kept fleeing and disassociating when it was over. Was he still punishing me for not being prepared to kiss him?

Because now I longed to kiss him.

I wanted him like I had never wanted anyone.

I decided I had to show him. I had to demonstrate my sexual desire for him by initiating romantic physical intimacy.

At the right moment later that day, I would surprise him by going down on him and showing him how much I loved it.

And I would ask him to kiss me.

***

It was several hours later.

We'd had lunch and he had taken the dog out for a walk.

I'd taken a shower and put on the hottest outfit I could find from the limited wardrobe I had at our parents' house.

It was a short, yellow mini-dress with a letterbox view of my cleavage. I wore no underwear.

"Wow," he said, when he saw me arrive at the bottom of the stairs.

"I want to do something for you," I said. I tried to say it confidently and sexily, but my desire was writing checks my courage couldn't cash, because it made him laugh more than it seemed to excite him.

I led him by the hand to recline against the back of the couch and I dropped to my knees.

I was determined to make his first blow job live up to the legend. But he almost seemed reluctant to let me try, perhaps because he sensed I was clueless.

I pulled his sweatpants down and freed his cock. It wasn't hard. But he humored me enough to let me try to change that. I closed my lips around the thing. It felt warm and soft in my mouth. I began to suckle and explore it with my tongue.

He watched me with interest. But appeared to be getting more from the visual of his sister struggling to suck him off, than from the sensation itself.

He grew a little hard, to my relief. But the chemistry felt forced and weird, much like the day before when I had tried to be the leader.

I had to break it off.

"I'm sorry," I felt the need to say, "I'm not good at this. Can you help?"

He pressed the nub of his thumb against my lips, softly but forcefully easing them apart. I allowed it into my mouth, where it burrowed into the ridge of my tongue, and explored the inner folds of my cheek.

He was opening up my mouth in the same way he had prepared my ass the night before. I surprised myself by not only allowing him to penetrate it, but actively sucking on his thumb like a good girl.

I couldn't blow my brother apparently, but I could reawaken his alter-ego sex daemon. Or perhaps he was the one awakening the daemon in me.

He took his cock into his hand and stroked himself to an erection. It took a matter of seconds. But I felt relieved rather than dejected. He was taking control again.

Then he pushed his cock into my mouth.

I tried to pull back but he held the back of my neck so that the only way was forward.

I'd never had a man's cock so deeply inside my mouth. It felt like it was stretching my jaw apart. I might have choked if I hadn't been forced to surrender the muscles of my throat to accommodate it.

But then he began thrusting. I had to keep remembering I could breathe through my nose because it was a real threat I could choke. Floods of mucus rushed to my aid. But James continued to fuck my face more urgently, as if it was a mere hole in a surface.

Just as he had done with his thumb, he used his cock to probe and explore every angle of my mouth; slapping it onto the groove of my tongue, poking it into my inner cheek.

I became so overwhelmed at one point that I had to pull out.

"Listen," I said. I wasn't pissed, I just had to be honest: "You deserve to experience a blow job. But this is something else. Trust me, most men are not getting to experience this in their lives."

He looked at me as if he hadn't comprehended a single word, and waggled his big cock at my lips to open up again. Then he forced himself back inside and continued to fuck my face.

Soon he began to moan. "Jesus," he said. "Oh god, yes."

His thick cum began spilling into my mouth. I couldn't drink it down fast enough and had to let his cock slip free. It continued to send multiple arcs of sperm into my face; dripping from my lips and hair.

And that's when he chose to kiss me.

It was so unexpected and weird that it helped me surrender to it. Soon I was passionately French kissing him while sharing a mouthful of his delectable sperm. I don't know which one of us swallowed more.

He gave me one final tender kiss on the lips, popped his erection back into his pants and left to go upstairs.

"James?" I called after him. "Where do you go?"

"To confess these sins," he said.

6

The sky had grown increasingly dark and menacing, and that was before our phones received the storm alert. There was to be one final night of heavy rain.

James didn't resurface for the next few hours.

It made me sad that he appeared to have developed a conscience about fucking his sister at precisely the moment I had set fire to mine.

I didn't want him to feel shame or remorse. I wanted him to enjoy my body as much as I now enjoyed his.

The rain was starting to barrel down from an apocalyptic sky.

And then the power went out.

I hadn't lit a fire yet so we were plunged into darkness.

"It's ok buddy," I called out to Rogue, in case she was worried.

And then I called out to James.

He called back to confirm the power outage. But still didn't come to me.

I ended up sat in the dark, thinking any moment I would light some candles.

That's when I felt his hand around my mouth.

It wasn't stifling, but it prevented me from expressing surprise.

"Shh," I heard him whisper into my hair.

He lifted me up and leaned me over the back of the sofa, so that my body was folded in two. He pulled up my mini skirt and began to rub my bare pussy.

The next thing I knew I could feel his hard cock forcing itself inside me. If he had been the foreplay guy yesterday, he was the main event guy today.

Now he was simply violating me in the dark.

His hands were kneading and pinching at my poor tits while his cock slammed in and out of my tight hole. And the strangest part was I wanted him to treat me even rougher.

I wanted his lips and tongue, fingers and hands, and his sublime cock inside every orifice. I adored the scent of his body; and the casual, reckless way he took what he wanted from me, with no regard for my preference or permission.

He was pounding my helpless little body; weakened from two days of nonstop molestation. My throat, asshole and pussy were tender from his feral lovemaking. And yet it was dwarfed by the intoxicating pleasure I felt.

As the first of a series of half a dozen orgasms struck, I felt like I could have been dying. I almost wanted to be. With my brother still inside me.

He fucked me like I was the last woman on earth and he the last man; and this was our last chance.

Over the course of the next two hours, or was it three - or was it a brief eternity - he fucked me in every position imaginable. From above, from below; from on top, from behind; while I was standing up, lying down, laying on my front, sat in a chair, pressed up against the wall...

Several times he lifted my small frame with his cock still inside and carried me to the next location. He fucked me hard, he fucked me gently; he fucked me violently and aggressively, then tenderly and lovingly. It was so schizophrenic that it felt like I was being passed around 10 different men, each one with their own unique style and thirst, and all of them somehow my siblings.

He bent me over the couch, the table, and even the stairs. At one point I'd had seven orgasms, then I lost count. Each body-shaking climax was more intense than the last, disorienting me further; forcing me deeper down the rabbit hole and un-anchoring me from the concrete world.

I didn't know where or who I was anymore. My brother no longer felt like himself; the room was dark in the middle of the day; the view from every window was mist and fog. It was unclear whether the house was even on solid ground.

In the final act, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the French windows, his cock still buried deep inside me.

He opened the door and began to carry me naked out onto the balcony. It was dark and cold, and the rain so severe that we were instantly drenched.

"No, no James! I can't come out here," I screamed at him, petrified.

But he didn't listen. My words didn't have any impact.

He lifted me down and bent me over the railing of the balcony, so that I was facing the depths below. I felt instantly vertiginous and dizzy, staring down into the murky pit, where a violent ocean received the tempestuous storm.

It was my worst nightmares come true.

If he hadn't been restraining me, I think I might have collapsed from the fearful intensity. But he didn't seem to care. Having bent my pale, shivering body over the cold rail, he re-inserted his cock and began to fuck me for his life, while the rain poured from my outstretched hair and tumbled down into the abyss.

I don't know if it was the added fear of being forced to face the dizzying height, but I felt an almighty orgasm surge within me. This one felt qualitatively different than the impossible pleasures I had already encountered with him.

As the nuclear-sized climax built, I surprised myself by starting to beg him:

"Please," I said, desperately. "Please James, Don't stop baby. Don't stop."

I was crying from the fear, and shivering from the cold and damp. My poor, spent body crumpled over the iron rail while my brother's relentless cock continued to pound and fill me up, in the dark and the rain.

"Don't stop baby. I beg you, please."

And then I was cumming. Harder than ever before.

I think I might have blacked out.

It felt like the balcony, my brother and I, the house, and even the clifftop, had broken away and were plummeting through the sky. Tumbling into the void.

I could have died in that moment and I didn't care. He had commandeered my body, my soul, my life force; and sent them spinning into the stratosphere.

As the last vestige of my orgasm subsided, he spun me around and let me fall to the ground like a sack of bones in front of the cold railing. The rain was coming down so hard I could barely make out the expression on his face, but his silver eyes were glowing.

They contained a look I had never seen before - pure, demented lust. He no longer had any control.

He released a howl that sounded more like anguish than joy, as his cock began to shoot copious jets of hot cum over my face and tits. It burst forth so incessantly I couldn't tell what was rain and what was cum.

And when the final drops had been excised from his balls, he collapsed to his knees, sobbing. He held my cold, naked body in his arms, rocking me; crying softly into my ear, whispering half words and sobbed apologies, interspersed with gratitude.

It was like a liebestod that we had both somehow survived; if indeed we had survived.

At that moment in the rain, clutching one another, naked, on the very balcony I'd not been able to step foot on for the past two decades, it almost didn't feel like we were on earth anymore. We were two star-crossed siblings who had fallen in love and died together.

"Don't say you're sorry," I urged him, while he kissed the tears, rain and cum from my cheeks. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Please don't be sorry. I love you."

He picked me up and carried me into the house, where he lay me down on the couch and covered me in the blue whale blanket.

Then he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge door. Using its internal light as illumination, he nonchalantly poured himself a vast bowl of Rice Krispies and proceeded to sit on the counter and devour them.

Then he went upstairs. I didn't see him again that night.

I don't know how long I lay there alone, listening to the storm pass.

But as it resided into the distance, I felt the uncanny feeling my brother's shadowy daemon had left with it.

Soon afterwards the lights came back on.

7

When I awoke the next morning, the sky was blue and the storm had passed.

I wondered if we could squeeze in one last fuck before my parents got home.

James's bedroom door was closed.

I figured I would brew some coffee and take him a cup.

Maybe I would blow him awake.

My heart didn't want to think about the fact we were supposed to be ending our physical relationship now that our parents were returning.

The pain of the idea was intermingled with my grief for the fact he was dying, and that today was the day they would be told.

I didn't want to entertain the possibility I had fallen in love with him.

It was the only outcome that had never crossed my mind, and yet it was the most complicated and painful one by far.

While the coffee was brewing, I saw Mom was calling on my cell phone.

Dammit, I thought, if they've already landed, I'm running out of playtime with my James.

"Hi honey!" said Mom's voice.

"Hi Mom!" I said.

"We're on our way back from the airport," she said.

"Oh wow!" I'll have some coffee ready in an hour."

"How's Rogi Bear?" asked my Dad in the background.

"She can't wait to see you!" I said.

"Isn't it the most fabulous news about your brother?" said Mom. "Your father and I are stopping somewhere to buy champagne!"

"What are you talking about?" I said.

"That he got the all clear!"

"What?"

"He said he told you."

"Wait, when did you speak to James?"

"Just now darling. He called us. We're sorry to miss him. He said he spent the weekend with you but has to get back to college this morning."

"No..." I said. "He's..." I was completely bewildered.

I glanced out the window. There was a terrifying blank space where his car should have been.

I started to panic.

"Anyway," Mom went on, "he said he went for a screening last week and the results were spotless! He's completely cured! He can finally live a full life. Darling, isn't it wonderful?"

It was apparent she was crying with joy, and that Dad was either cheering or crying in the background.

While I was running up the stairs.

"It's unbelievable," was the only thing I could muster.

"He told us you two spent the weekend celebrating."

I opened the door to James's bedroom.

"Did you have fun? Darling? ... Honey?..."

His bag and clothes were gone.

"Are you still there?" she asked.

A folded note was on the pillow, addressed to me.

I hung up the phone on Mom.

I was trembling as I opened the note.

It contained no more than a few words, written in sharpie:

Sorry Clare. But I was dying to fuck you.