Grizzly and Panda

The cop car blared its siren again. Hope cried out.

Suddenly, the cruiser rocketed past us on our right and began swinging to a stop to cut us off. It was precisely what I wanted. The moment he braked, I veered right with Hope toward the alley between Cozy Storage and the shipping facility. We crossed the street in an instant, and moments later, we were racing along the narrow gap toward the expressway.

The cop hollered, "Get back here!" over his PA system. The cruiser would not fit between the fences.

At the southeast corner, we stopped and knelt. Hope stared at me, gasping and awaiting instructions. Chuffing air, I said, "We're not out of this yet, but I don't think we should try to get home yet. We need to lay low and let this shit die down."

"Where?"

"I think we've got them tricked about coming from Pinecrest. They'll cover those entrances, but they'll also cover the Cozy Storage fence, too--especially beside the main gate. So, I don't think we can cross over to the cell tower. Not yet."

Hope waited.

"The tunnel," I said. "The culvert."

"What if they search along the fence and look inside?"

"We'll be just beyond the turn. They look inside and see nothing."

"Okay."

"Let's go."

Hand-in-hand, we raced down the slight declivity and dropped into the drainage ditch beside the tunnel.

"You first," I whispered, and Hope led the way inside.

A few minutes later, we were around the bend. Hope and I turned around. She looked through the storm drain a few times before asking if we could switch places. I guessed she didn't like to be so close to where someone could discover us hiding in there, so I agreed and we slid past one another. She remained in front of me, just behind the bend, prone and peering down the main tunnel. I laid behind her, moving her feet apart so that I could put my chest down.

Through the storm drain, I heard a vehicle slowly crunching through gravel somewhere on the street out there beyond Cozy Storage. "There's a car up there," I whispered. A few seconds later, the noise vanished entirely. "He's stopped--parked."

A door opened and closed.

"Gotta be a cop," I whispered, "but he's outside the gate."

There may have been a few footsteps before I heard the brief static of a radio call and a verbal exchange that I couldn't make out.

"Definitely cops," I said.

Hope heard something, too. She turned back to me and pointed down the tunnel.

I nodded and fell completely silent.

Hope peered down the tunnel. Whatever she heard, I couldn't make out. A minute passed in absolute stillness and silence when, abruptly, Hope shoved her body backward into me and froze.

The beam of a flashlight swept across the bend of the tunnel in front of us. I held my breath. Back and forth the light swept. And back again. Then, it was gone.

Neither of us moved or said a word. I had no idea of the passage of time in that state, but it had to have been at least five minutes before the door of the cruiser opened and closed. Then, the vehicle started and drove away.

Hope spun to me. "Are we safe?"

"Give it another few minutes," I whispered, suspecting that, maybe, there had been more than one cop out there, one in a vehicle we hadn't heard.

Seconds ticked away slowly, but there was nothing. Not a sound.

About to speak, I shut my mouth the instant I heard another engine start. Hope flinched. We listened to the cruiser drive away, and then we both let out huge sighs.

"Fuck," I whispered, and I slumped, exhausted. My head fell to rest on a perfect, warm pillow.

Panic had made me temporarily ignorant of it, but in shoving herself back, Hope's legs stretched along the sides of my body. I felt her knees hugging my shoulders, her feet on my waist. Her ass was right before me. Literally in my face.

Hope began to move, and my hands immediately stopped her, clutching her ass. The feel of that fucker in my hands set me on fire as if from a flamethrower. Between the undiluted fear of the chase and the exhausting relief of our narrow escape, my body had been on edge. Hope's fat, perky butt called to me. Muttering something about "this fucking ass," I buried my face into her yoga pants.

Hope gasped.

My fingers wildly sought out the waistband and, discovering it, curled underneath the stretchy fabric and yanked. And tugged. One side and then the other in the tight confines of the culvert.

Hope didn't fight me.

Further down I pulled, having to lean my body first to one side and then the other until the waist of her pants was down at her knees, underneath my stomach. Gripping those two globes, I pulled her wide open and smelled her body.

"Oh, fuck," I whispered. The fragrance of her pussy and ass fed into the angry, savage desire I felt.

I didn't hesitate, and I didn't care about my face paint. I plunged my face into Hope's ass, and I devoured her pussy and asshole with my tongue and lips. Any voice of reason, urging me to reconsider, drowned away under Hope's moans. I wanted this fucking pussy.

I did not stop and listen. At that moment, I didn't actually care what Hope liked when a man's mouth essayed between her thighs. I took what I wanted, how I wanted it. After exploring every part of her crotch, I settled with my lips and tongue on and around her clit and the tip of my nose abutting the taut pinhole of her ass.

I toiled on that spot as if in a maniacal frenzy. I took short breaks, too, occasionally wrenching my face from her ass and mashing the two globes in my clutches as if to remind myself that this was real--this perfect booty was real. Then, I pried her apart and immersed myself in it to keep taking my fill. That it made her squirm and moan with pleasure didn't much matter to me other than that Hope would know for damn sure what it was like to have her pussy eaten.

Before long, the tunnel echoed with her encouraging cries. They prodded and goaded me into a fury of slathering licks. Hope's anus began twitching against my nose, and I was applying such relentless force that my nose began prying her open.

I latched to her pussy with my lips, sucking. My tongue danced. Hope cried out in pleasure. Then, without warning her entire core flinched and Hope huffed, "Grizzly!" as if alerting me.

Her body lurched to escape my grip, but I never let go or quit because I knew she would not have hollered like that if it were the cops. This was something else.

And I found out.

My tongue flicking like the wings of a bee, a tiny burst of warm fluid cascaded down my lower lip. Hope cried my name again, adding, "Oh, no!" The first squirt was immediately followed by a second tiny geyser that sprayed wantonly over my upper lip, chin, and even into one of my nostrils. This expulsion was accompanied by a moan of such perfect female ecstasy that, finally, I stopped licking.

I drew back, astonished.

With Hope still moaning, I let the flavor saturate my tongue. This was not piss; this was thicker, sticky, and almost sweet. Blinking in the darkness, I dragged my tongue over her, from her clit to her asshole. There wasn't much of the fluid, maybe a teaspoon altogether, but I gathered what I could and tasted it with careful deliberation.

"Fuck," I whispered.

Gasping, Hope's voice pleaded with me. She told me how sorry she was, how it sometimes happened when she felt really, really good.

"Did you cum? Is that girlcum?"

"Don't hate me! I tried to warn you, but I can't control it!"

I didn't say anything. I bent down and licked her again, savoring the taste a second time, committing it to memory.

Hope flinched, gasping.

There was nothing objectionable about the flavor. It was mildly sweet and feminine. It hinted at the taste of her pussy without mimicking it. In fact, if pussy were a meal, then Hope's girlcum was like its dessert. I licked her again, remaining there to suck and delve with my tongue in the event there was any I missed.

Hope murmured something that I couldn't discern. Her voice seemed surprised and unsure, but the longer I spent back there, tongue-bathing the region with long, soft licks, the more comfortable she sounded.

It is difficult to put into words how sexy Hope's pussy and ass smelled. Her scent didn't overwhelm; it hinted. It wasn't singular and unified; it was a blend, a brew. Some of the notes, if increased just a fraction, might upset the perfect balance. I couldn't help but feel that her body made its own quintessentially female perfume and that it was designed to rouse males. I imagined a wild man meeting a feral Hope for the first time. Once he took in that smell, he would know exactly what to do. Hope's aroma told the story of fucking, and I wasn't at all surprised how it sparked my voracious lust.

In the ongoing aftermath of Hope's powerful climax, I decided I didn't want to give up her ass too quickly. Though still angrily erect in my trousers, making her cum had taken the urgent edge away. I wanted to stay and explore a little.

Sliding my hands over her ass and along her hips, I learned there was a very sexy, rolling width to those hips I didn't anticipate. Maybe, I thought, it was that she was laying down, and the compression of her flesh by the culvert created an illusion.

Massaging the two halves, I slid my thumbs into the cleft. More. Deeper. Finally, the tips touched together on the taut skin of her anus. I almost laughed, remembering a conversation we'd had a while back. I had described her ass as "deep;" she had called it "fat."

I pulled my thumbs out and, squeezing one cheek, slowly drove the other thumb into the cleft until it perched squarely on her asshole.

From the outer crests of those two globes down to her little pinhole of an anus was a surprisingly long jaunt. "Fat," I decided as I kneaded the flesh of her booty in my other hand, was not the word. "Deep" was. Thick and meaty, yes. Smooth. Warm. Downy soft. Alive. Feminine.

I slid my thumb away from her anus--not at all far, less than an inch--and found the soft heat. Her fluids invited the digit inside. The sensation instantly triggered the image of my cock in there.

I swallowed in a dry throat. My heartbeat quickened. Something, buried under layers of primal desire, stirred inside me. Choking off the need to give voice to this urge with a grunt, a swear--anything--I swallowed again. My jaw fell open afterward. Heavy, shallow breaths chuffed back and forth across my tongue. My mind churned with that image.

The more of that thumb I slid into her, the more of the digit I wanted inside. My gosh, it was hot and slippery. Tight as fuck.

And then Hope moaned. When the length of my thumb went completely inside of her, when the pad mashed against her labia, Hope let out a moan of such crying sweetness that my mind fell away.

I became a beast of pure instinct. The junction in the storm drain was wider than the tunnel, but not by much. Still, I was climbing over Hope's prone body and pulling out my cock.

She didn't fuss when the tip of my cock dragged through the cleft of her ass. She didn't complain when the weight of my core pressed against her. No caution or refusal escaped her lips when, in those claustrophobic confines, I brought my cock into alignment with her pussy, wiggling it in my fist until her labia parted for the knob.

The culvert echoed with my rough panting and Hope's wheezes in anticipation of this act.

I powered my hips and drove heavily into her. The moment her cry echoed, I felt a pleasure that made all I had ever enjoyed in life seem quaint by comparison. Incomprehensible satisfaction rushed through me.

I groaned into the back of Hope's ear; she bayed and gasped under me. We held like that for several seconds. I cursed; she hollered.

To my astonishment, her hips wiggled against me. I felt her ass rise up and push back. She wanted this as much as I did. Reloading at the hips, I began fucking her in shallow, hard strokes--all that the space in the culvert would allow. With nothing to push back against, we began sliding forward, and I lost my angle.

I grabbed Hope's shoulders, tugging myself forward. When I found her, I plunged deep, and she sang a high note of pleasure and pain. Still, our bodies lurched forward, and my cock slipped out again.

"Outside," I grunted. "Go."

She moaned plaintively, but she was scrambling forward and tugging at her pants to pull them up. I was, too. Neither of us wanted any dust or dirt to interfere with the perfection of our joined bodies.

Rounding the bend, we raced toward the moonlit exit. I watched Hope emerge, spin toward me, and strip down her pants. When my head emerged, her hands met my body and helped me out.

Neither of us said a word. Hope managed to get one leg of her pants free while I had gotten mine down to my hips. She jumped at me, and I caught her ass. Her legs wrapped around my butt, and I hauled her into position as we kissed. A moment later, I stood in the drainage ditch, ass exposed to the expressway, and started fucking Hope again.

Through gasps and between kisses, I told her how good she felt, and she expressed to me the same. The ecstasy in her voice thrilled me, urged me to fuck harder. Resetting my feet, our center of gravity swayed out of balance. I caught and supported her body as I fell on my ass.

Hope didn't hesitate. She put her knees on the ground, repositioned her hips, and squatted onto my cock. I laid back on the grass, holding her waist and grinding into her.

It didn't seem long before Hope found some angle that electrified her. Crying out, her body fell on top of mine. Against the sensitive skin on my neck, I felt her desperate breath. I felt her lips move as she panted my name and told me she was going to cum. Then, she latched to me, sucking my neck with fierce strength. The pitch of her moans soared higher.

Abruptly, her body--down there--squeezed my cock. Once. Twice. More.

I tried to express my surprise--to say something--but the pleasure was knife sharp. I gasped, feeling the waves of satisfaction surge far beyond my capacity to hold them back.

Seizing her hips, I lifted her off my cock and dropped her on my lower abdomen. The instant she was down, I felt her wet pussy slide over my pubic hairs and my cock nestle into the cleft of her ass. Cursing desperately, Hope ground her pussy against the shaft, and I came.

My cock throbbed and disgorged, and I listened to Hope call out my name until it was over.

She sagged on me with a throaty sigh. Sucking air, I wrapped her in my arms. When I caught my breath, I pulled her face to mine, and we kissed with our tongues. "You came," she moaned between kisses. "You came on me." Then, as if the thought of it thrilled her, Hope delved into my mouth with her tongue.

I drew back after a few thrilling seconds. "You like that?"

She nodded, smiling.

***

There was not a cop to be seen on our trip back home, which was good; I didn't have a shirt to wear. I had given mine to Hope to mop my semen from her back and ass.

It was after two in the morning when we slumped onto the couch, side-by-side. Hope put her head on my shoulder. "Will you forgive me?" she asked nervously.

"For what?"

"For when I--I girlcummed on you."

"Did you not notice that I loved it?"

"Yeah, but--."

"Did you feel me lick it up?"

"Yeah."

"It was fucking cool, Panda."

She turned to me, desperate to confirm what I had said. "You really liked it? I'm not gross?"

"You're perfect," I said. "Now let's get cleaned up. Go jump in the shower if you're planning to."

Smiling, she said, "Yes, sir, Grizzly-sir," and with new energy, she left for the bathroom.

I remained on the couch, wondering if I felt guilty about fucking my sister, eating her pussy and ass. Maybe, but I didn't see how I could have resisted it when it was in my face like that. And having done these things with her, I could not deny how good it had been.

I began to compare her with previous girlfriends. None were as engaging as Hope. None as smart and fun-loving. I couldn't think of any who were as kind and generous. Spending time with every one of my old girlfriends had felt like a chore--a thing that had to be done to get pussy; with Hope, hanging out was exciting and fun. The sex part was strictly bonus.

And what a bonus. Holy shit. There simply was no sexual comparison between my old girlfriends and Hope. They were inflatable love dolls against her.

It wasn't just that Hope's body was a five-star resort. Yes, she looked amazing, but it was more than that. Her textures--soft, firm, warm, smooth, and slick--invited and rewarded touches. The taste of her body was thrillingly addictive. Her natural fragrance was to sex as the aroma of Thanksgiving dinner was to hunger. And Hope was responsive. Her voice and the sounds that spilled from her during sex, so naturally feminine, inspired like hard-earned championship victories.

She gave without expectation. She received with joy. She joined hungrily and adoringly. Hope liked sex the way a man dreams his woman will. The prospect of more sex with her inspired savage lust. I wanted every part of her, and I wanted her, whole. The memory of her made me want to be better--because she deserved it.

Then, I laughed ruefully. Better? Spending time with me had only brought her down--made us both into petty criminals. Society was against our relationship, yes, but so was all of the evidence.

Under my leadership, she worsened. I made her tired for school, and her grades probably suffered. The president of the school's National Honor Society was because of me a criminal, wanted for a host of infractions. I, her brother, had not only taken her virginity, but I had done it in the equivalent of a fucking gutter. And when the gutter didn't satisfy, I dragged her into a drainage ditch to finish the job.

A fresh wave of hot guilt washed over me, and it didn't recede; it drowned me there.

Hope wasn't surprised when I strolled into the bathroom to wash my face and piss, but I know it surprised her that I finished and left without saying a word. I knew that if I talked to her, I would either have to confront my shame or frolic in it by taking advantage of her again.

I went to bed, shutting the door behind me.

A few minutes after I heard the water in the shower shut off, Hope tentatively, fearfully cracked open my door. The sound interrupted my dark, recriminating train of thought.

In a tiny voice, she murmured, "Grizzly?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you upset?"

"No."

"Just tired then?"

"Yeah."

"Are you tired of me?" she asked in a voice so hesitant and full of trepidation that I rolled to face her.

"No."

"Because I heard that some guys--you know, after?--they don't want to be with that girl anymore."

"Just tired is all."

"Okay," she murmured. Then, she left.

I put my head back on the pillow, clenching my teeth and cursing because I should have at least talked to her about these things running through my head.

***

The late-night missions caught up with us. We were both exhausted on the way to school the next morning, and neither of us said a word in the car. The white sheet covering Cozy Storage's letters still remained.

On the ride back home, I was ready to explain my thoughts to Hope, but she looked like she was in a dark place. Brooding beside me, I tried to reach out. "Hey," I said, "we're tired. I think both of us need to catch up on sleep tonight. No rung mission, okay?"

She nodded, staring out the passenger side window.

"But," I added, "that doesn't mean we can't hang out--if you want. Talk."

She didn't respond or acknowledge my words.

"Panda?"

She glanced at me when I said that name.

"Come on. Talk to me."

"I'm thinking," she muttered.

"About--?"

"Everything."

She didn't come down that night. I debated going up and ultimately decided that, like me, she needed some time.