Falling for Jennifer Ch. 02byHot_Sister©
David felt a building wave of lust as he fucked his sister. The suddenness of the circumstances urged him on: the feel of the air against his buttocks and the warmth of her cunt as it gripped him. He could hear the traffic on the freeway to the south and the song of the bird above him. His fingers touched her at the point of his penetration, sliding over the slippery oil of their union to press against his shaft as it pistoned into her. He began to hammer deeper, his hips thrusting sharply and her body thumped violently against the shed with the force of his strokes. Jen wrapped her hands around his head and clung to him, riding the storm. She imagined how her pussy would look in the open air beneath her, the lips of her vulva clinging to his turgid flesh each time he thrust forward, and how the long strands of his sperm would fall from her when they were done.
The vision tripped her over the edge and she came. A thin wail broke from her lips and she crushed his head with her arms, feeling the sudden warmth of his own climax as he emptied into her body. He fell against her, jerking spasmodically, only the wall of the shed holding them upright and the rough material of her coat muffled his cries of pleasure. For long moments they clung to each other as his cock pulsed and twitched inside her - and then the storm-surge faded and the light and colours of their surroundings gradually returned. She felt him withdraw and she released her thighs from his waist to stand up on trembling legs.
"Jesus, David. How the hell did that happen?" She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. "One minute you're raking and the next you're raping."
David laughed, his teeth white against the tan of his skin. "You have that effect on me, Sis." He turned his head on the side slightly and regarded her. "Now, if you'll turn around and bend over we can do the other side."
She shook her head. "Not on your life! I'm full....in fact, I'm overflowing" She reached down and pulled aside the gusset of her pants just in time to release a thin stream of his sperm. It fell onto the ground, splattering onto the crushed and trampled leaves at her feet - white and brown and gold, and she laughed. "Now we're both empty!"
Neither was aware of the blue eyes of their mother, watching from the kitchen of the house. Kath had come home and was unpacking the shopping when a movement at the end of the garden caught her eye, and she stopped to look. She thought at first that it was something trapped inside the shed but she gradually realised that it was someone behind the building, hidden from view except through the grimy little window just visible through its open door; and as she watched, the rhythm of the movement became more frenetic: the light alternately blocked and revealed, as if a blanket was flapping against the panes of glass. And then the obstruction was suddenly removed and she perceived Jennifer there, laughing at something and looking down at the ground.
In a sudden moment of clarity she understood without a shadow of doubt what her daughter had been doing and she swayed against the kitchen worktop to support herself, for her legs seemed to have lost their strength. Her heart was hammering in her chest and a heavy feeling of dread welled inside her. She knew she should turn away but she could not, and so she waited, watching for movement through the distant little panes of glass and hearing the clock in the hallway ticking, ticking, like a metronome measuring the last normal moments of her life. And in those long seconds the odd little things she had noticed about her children clicked together in her mind like finely machined parts of a puzzle and she knew, even before her son and daughter appeared before her horrified eyes, that all of the dreams and hopes she had had for them were gone.
With anguished eyes Kath watched them approaching the house. Jen's face was turned towards her brother, gazing at him. Her lips were open and her eyes sparkled and her face was flushed with the glow of a lover. Kath saw how their hands were entwined and how her son kissed his sister on the lips and how the girl responded. She tried to turn away but she could not and so she remained as the couple grew closer until, inevitably, her daughter looked up and perceived her mother's anguished face at the window and she stopped in her tracks.
For a long moment the two stared at each other. Kath saw the shock of understanding on her daughter's face and the sudden flood of shame and guilt in her eyes and she knew that somehow this had always been ordained - that her children would submit to the sins of their own flesh and that her life would always be one of disappointment at what could have been, but now was lost.
And in that moment the pain struck her: a crushing, monstrous storm that seized the left side of her body and twisted her over as she gasped and scrabbled at the tilting kitchen bench for support, before falling to her knees and sliding to the floor. She could not scream for the pain was too great and so she lay on the cold tiles and gasped, recognizing the signs, wanting to live but watching the cone of her vision as it dwindled and contracted to nothing. And in the darkness the sound of a great wind filled her head, stripping away her consciousness like a gale peeling away the cladding of an ancient house, and the comfort and security of her life was torn from her mind and flung aside in a tumult of noise and chaos.
And presently, the storm diminished and there was only a rustling sibilance of awareness, like the scrabbling of a rodent in the dark corners of her brain, and the thin and distant cries of her incestuous children as they ran to her twitching form.
"Will she live, Doctor?"
Jen held the white-coated sleeve of the cardiologist, and she peered into his face with concern. "I understand what you have told me - but what does it mean? Will she live?"
He sighed. Explaining the technicalities of what had happened to a person's heart was easy, just as a mechanic could tell you of damage to the engine of your car. He was comfortable with that - it was dispassionate, technical, dealing with facts and figures and percentages. Telling this girl that her mother would never function properly again was difficult, for it strayed into emotion. He sometimes thought of the irony of his position: being able to deal with the architecture of such a wondrous organ, but being unable to do justice to the emotions that were attributed to it - love and compassion and understanding.
He tried to choose his words carefully. "Your mother - Kath, isn't it? - well, as I've explained, she's suffered a myocardial infarcation...a heart attack. There is significant damage to the venticular chamber of her heart...there will be scarring and permanent loss of function." He could see that his words had not answered the girl's question, and he tried again. "It's difficult to be certain what the prognosis might be, but if she survives I think she must be prepared for quite a different lifestyle." His eyes glittered through the little glasses and he nodded as if satisfied by his explanation. "Yes, quite different. Now, I must go and see my other patients." He turned away and stroke briskly down the wide corridor with its blue painted doors and the bright florescent lights.
A nearby nurse heard the exchange and saw the look of helplessness on Jen's face as she stared after the physician. She came over and took her hand. "Look love," she said. "I'm not supposed to say anything but I've seen a lot of these. I'm off shift in a few minutes...do you want to have a coffee and I'll tell you what I think."
The coffee was awful but the canteen was warm and the press of people there was somehow better than the deserted corridors of the wards. Jen wrapped her hands around the cup as she listened to what the nurse was saying.
"It was a bad one...I saw the xrays and the scans....as bad as I've ever seen. I'm sorry." She touched Jen's sleeve to deliver a little comfort. "That's not to say she won't make it though."
"So when will we know?"
The nurse shrugged a little. "A few days. It's good that she got through the surgery, though. I'd say 48 hours, perhaps, and then another week or two in intensive care."
"Will she be normal?"
The woman regarded her. She knew she shouldn't be venturing such opinions but she had seen so many people worried because they didn't know what was happening. It was better to be told, even if it was only her view. "Look, I'm not a cardiologist, or a neurosurgeon, so don't be holding me to any of this - but I heard them say that there is no apparent damage to the brain from lack of oxygen. It's all about her heart." She regarded Jen with sympathetic eyes. "If she pulls through it will be physical changes...you know, perhaps she will need to get about in a wheelchair with an oxygen mask; taking it really easy. She won't be able to do anything physical, I'm afraid." She paused to sip at her coffee and tried to be positive. "But the body can do things to repair itself - given time. She might improve, or perhaps even get a transplant if the chance comes."
Jen nodded. "Did she say anything?"
The woman shook her head. She was attractive in a sort of common way, with dyed blonde hair and a direct gaze. "Not a word. What happened?"
"She collapsed in the kitchen."
"I see." She glanced at her watch. "Look, I have to go." She looked at Jen inquiringly. "Are you by yourself?"
"Do you have somewhere to stay? I - um, well, you could stay with me if you wanted. It's only a little place but it's nearby and I'm on my own...a bedsitter, really." Her eyes were on Jen's face and her expression made it clear what the invitation involved.
Jen shook her head. "No, no, thanks." She smiled and touched the woman's hand. "Really, that's very kind of you, but I'm not - I mean, I really don't need anything."
The nurse nodded. "I understand." She stood up and pulled her coat over her shoulders. "Well - good luck. With your Mum I mean."
Jen watched her as she walked away. She wondered if everyone was on the take, searching for gratification without regard for others, and it reminded her of her mother who was at death's door because of what she had done. The burden of guilt suddenly seemed overwhelming and for the first time since it had happened she held her head in her hands and wept.
Father John Tobias should never have been a Priest, at least if you considered religion and ethics as desirable traits for a man of the cloth. In truth he had little of either but had decided early in life that some professions provided greater opportunity to pursue his ambitions than others did - and wearing a dog collar was the best of them all. He was smart enough to know that you had to work hard if you wanted to reap what you deserved, and so he went about the business of the church with due diligence, undertaking his duties with humility and professionalism and plucking the ripe fruit of vulnerable and lonely people. In the two years of being the local Priest he had already amassed a considerable nest egg from several elderly widows who valued his companionship, and was intimate with three younger women who valued what was under his cassock.
He had been summoned to the regional hospital to administer last rites at the request of a woman there and he hurried along the corridor of the hospital to get the job done. He was meeting one of his more uninhibited parishioners later that afternoon and did not want to be late for what promised to be some illicit and energetic sex.
He entered the hospital room, remembering to put on a suitably grave expression. The woman was propped up in the hospital bed and her face was pinched and grey.
"Good afternoon, my child." He spoke gently, his voice pitched at just the right level of sympathy and understanding. "And how are you today?"
Kathrine opened her eyes and regarded the figure before her. She understood that today was her last on this earth and she would be leaving it without regret. She could feel the thready little beat of her damaged heart and knew it would not last for much longer - but there was one last job to be done and the means to do it had just arrived.
He smiled. The old biddy really did look sick - perhaps this wouldn't take too long. "I understand you want me to administer the Last Rites, my child." He took her hand, looking into the troubled blue eyes. "Have you been accepted into the bosom of the Catholic Church, and have you taken of Communion recently?" He watched with relief as she nodded. "Very well." He gathered his accoutrements quickly and leaned over her to begin the sanctification in a low and clear voice. "O Holy Hosts Above, I call upon thee..."
Kath lay on the thin mattress and waited. She didn't much care about this but it was necessary to get the priest to her bedside, so she listened patiently until at last the words of the Benediction came from his lips. '...and thus I do commend thy Servant Katherine into the arms of our Lord on Earth, our Lord Jesus Christ, Preserver of all mercy and reality...' She felt his fingers tracing the crucifix onto the dry parchment of her skin, and then it was done and he went to turn away with a final murmur of comfort.
She reached up and plucked at his sleeve. "Wait! There is one more matter, Father, that I must tell you about."
For a moment she thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but it was quickly snuffed out and replaced by an expression of sympathetic attention. He leaned close to her. "Yes, what is it, my child?"
"Well, Father. It's about my children. They need your guidance and care..." and she told him everything, whispering softly into his ear, not noticing how he turned his face aside to conceal his expression of avarice and glee as he heard her dying words.
Mary McGuire was a comely girl of 28 whose husband was a long distance truck driver. The employment suited them both, for it gave him the opportunity to visit the many boarding houses and brothels of the roads on which he traveled - which she knew all about; and it gave her the opportunity to entertain gentlemen in her bed - of which he knew nothing. It always amused Mary to think that when he came home his balls were usually empty of his sperm whilst her vagina was always full of someone else's.
She was crouching on the sofa in the lounge of her house, her breasts swinging pendulously as Father John Tobias humped her from behind. Little grunts of pleasure escaped from her lips, for he had a very large cock that bottomed out with each thrust. She loved the feeling of being mounted like some animal with the grip of his hands on her shoulders to ensure every millimetre of his shaft was stuffed into her willing body; and she delighted in the slap of his balls against the soft skin of her inner thighs. She had already come twice - the sheen of her juices was shining on her thighs and she could hear the wet suck of her cunt on the thick shaft sliding into it.
She reached back and seized his hips, pulling them back and forth in time to his thrusting. "Christ, Father, that's good! Fuck me harder!"
"You shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain, Mary. You'll be punished if you do."
She giggled. "I'm being punished now, Father, but perhaps you can think of more severe ways to make me repent."
"I'll smite you mightily with my staff."
"From the inside, Father. Deep into the well of my soul."
He laughed. Mary was always good fun and she knew how to fuck, too. He looked down at the point of their union, watching how his cock slid into her. Her anus was pressed out with each stroke and he decided that today might be the day he took her there, too. Perhaps he could adapt a biblical quote for that... 'Get thee in my behind, Satan,' - or maybe something witty about the labors of an Ass. He resolved to research it - perhaps he could even weave it into his Sunday sermon, when only he and Mary would understand the context. He laughed at the thought of all the other puritanical pricks in the congregation missing the delicious irony of it.
"What's so funny?"
"I was thinking of a confession I heard today."
"What was it?" Mary liked to hear what people had to say, although he generally didn't tell her who they were. She was an inveterate gossip.
"A woman who told me that her son and daughter were having it off. She wanted me to do something about it...for some reason it troubled her soul, although I can't imagine why. I thought it was rather a good use of available resources."
Mary twisted around so she could see his face. "You're not serious! What, here - in this town?"
John nodded without breaking his rhythm. "Sure. There's a fair bit of incest that goes on - but this one is unusual because it's consensual. She thinks that its been going on for a while...she noticed them mooning over each other, looking for excuses to be together. She even went into her daughter's room and inspected the sheets." He laughed. "Apparently they were as stiff as a board."
"That doesn't prove anything...she could just have a leaky pussy." She paused for a moment. "Mine leaks from time to time, especially after you've filled it."
"In which case your sheets would be stiff too, Mary. Besides, she caught them at it in the garden and that dispelled any doubts at all...apparently he was fucking her against the side of the shed."
"Really? I suppose that's why it's called a tool shed." She laughed at her little joke. "Who were they?"
"No one you know," he said carefully. "Anyway, they're orphans now. She died just after I left the hospital and the father's been gone for years."
Mary considered his words, and a silence settled in the room except for the squeaks of the ancient springs in the sofa and the soft wet slurp of their genitals. "So what will you do about it?" she asked eventually.
He thought about the question, savoring the slide of his shaft into her body as he did so. There was something very satisfying about fucking someone else's wife while you talked about consensual incest. He wondered if having your cock inside your sister would feel different to any other woman, and decided it would. Too bad he didn't have a sister to try it out on.
"Nothing," he said. "If they want to fuck their brains out, good on them! Still, you never know when it might be a useful bit of information." He didn't tell Mary that he intended to check the girl out - perhaps he could blackmail her to get a bit of pussy. He hoped that she was good looking and very young, and the thought of how tight her cunt would be spurred him on.
He crouched over Mary's back and thrust harder, hearing her squeal as she wriggled underneath him, feeling the head of his cock swelling even more - a sure sign that he was about to come. "Fuck, Mary!" his voice was breathless. "Oh, fuck - here it comes!"
A geyser of his semen leapt from the eye of his cock and its scalding heat triggered her own climax. Her body went rigid and her pussy spasmed around him, squeezing his shaft in powerful contractions. She screamed with the intensity of it, her shrill cries drowning out his guttural moans of pleasure as he hosed his seed into her, splattering it over the undulating walls of her cunt to seethe and bubble around the neck of her uterus.
At length his emission diminished and their limbs gradually grew still. Father John could feel his shaft twitching inside the woman and he closed his eyes and concentrated on the last vestiges of his pleasure until that stopped as well. He reached down and carefully disengaged his cock, leaning back to watch his spunk dribble out of her, and he laughed with delight.
"Will you look at that, Mary! Wow, there's gallons of it." He regarded the flow for a moment. "You know, that reminds me of that quote from the book of John, Chapter 10 I think it was: 'I came that you may have and enjoy life and have it in abundance, until it overflows' . He laughed again at his cleverness and then carefully wiped his dick on the wad of tissues she had thoughtfully provided, and his thoughts turned to the delicious possibilities of the girl.