Icing Down My Sweaty Sister

"Sorry, I'm not trimmed," she said. "I wasn't expecting any action this summer."

"No, no, I love it! So womanly. May I kiss?"

Sloan stepped onto the couch, straddling my hips, and pressed herself to my face. But she only gave me a little taste of her feminine goodness, and then she took it away.

"I want you inside me, dear brother." She spilled more saliva into her palm, giving my cock another polishing. Then she lowered herself onto my lap, her pillowy breasts enveloping my face, her dewy hair surrounding me like a curtain. Her fingertips guided me to her opening.

I groaned at the heat and the tightness as the tip of my cock passed her threshold. Reflexively, my hips thrust upward. I wanted all the way into her.

"Be still," she whispered into my ear, while cautionary fingernails took position against my shoulders.

"You're so tight!" I moaned. "Wait..." I realized her pussy didn't feel much like a pussy. It felt hotter, more grippy, like a ring, not a sleeve. Plus, the position of her body was wrong. "Are we...?"

"I haven't been taking my birth control," she said.

"I've never done anal before."

"I have," she whispered. "I love it. It makes me cum."

Triggered, my hips pushed upward again.

Sloan's fingernails dug into my shoulders. Her teeth sunk into my earlobe. "Easy!" she hissed. "Just be still and let me do it!"

It took a major exertion of my will, but I forced my overexcited pelvis to remain still, while Sloan's asshole swallowed my cock millimeter by excruciating millimeter. Occasionally, she'd flinch and back off, then start all over.

"I know, I'm being bossy," she said. "But your cock is like a horse cock. It's going to take me a minute."

I occupied myself with her breasts, burying my face in her deep, sweaty cleavage, poking her puffy left nipple with my tongue, and nibbling her shy right nipple to a firm little erection.

Once Sloan's body relaxed, she glided easily down the remainder of my pole, bringing us face to face. At once, our lips, then our tongues, met in a kiss.

Again, my hips wanted to pump, but again, Sloan stilled me with her fingernails.

"Slow," she said.

Sloan sat heavily on my lap, my cock reaching all the way into her. She fucked like she masturbated: with tiny motions. She wiggled ever-so-slightly in circles, made jittery, mouse-sized bounces, buffing her clit against my abs.

Her kisses, however, were aggressive, almost combative. She fucked my mouth with her tongue. She sucked my tongue into her mouth. She bit and scratched.

Her first little tremor came quickly, followed by another and another. Moans slipped out of her like bubbles. Then came the giant tremblor, followed by an even gianter tremblor. She screamed straight down my throat.

She was a hot, jiggling, quivering, hyperventilating mess in my lap. Her sweaty, slippery asshole spasmed round the base of my cock. She brought me right to the edge of orgasm, but I was stuck there, maddeningly, and couldn't get over the top.

I couldn't take it for another second. I picked her up, my cock still inside her, and flipped her onto her back.

She squealed with delight. She lay back, spread her limbs submissively, and made herself my receptacle. Sweat pooled in her every hollow. Her entire body was flushed. She made eyes at me, made come-hither gestures with her tongue. Her breasts sloshed heavily on her chest, as I drove myself, over and over, into her tight, twitching asshole.

She reached out to me. Slender fingers stroked my chin, then my chest. She said, "Fill my ass with your cum."

I replied, "Mmmrgh! Gahhh!" and, with one final thrust into her deepest bowels, I did exactly as she'd requested. Then I collapsed on top of her, now as sweaty as she. And we kissed.

"Good grief, Sloan," I said once I'd caught my breath. "That was amazing! Do you always cum like that?"

"Not always," she said. "Usually only when I'm alone with my favorite sex toys."

"Are you saying I'm like a sex toy?"

She responded in a sing-song voice. "Won't you please? Won't you please? Please won't you be...my dildo?"

Just then, in my peripheral vision, I caught a glinting through the front window. I looked out to see two bicyclists coming up the driveway.

"Oh, shit! It's Mom and Dad!"

Sloan and I scrambled to clean up the evidence of our crime. Fortunately, the driveway was long, and Mom and Dad were pedaling slowly in the heat. So we were able to scramble upstairs and into our respective bedrooms before we heard the front door open.

I toweled myself off and hurried into my clothes. As I was pulling on my shirt, Mom called out to us.

"Yoohoo!"

I checked myself in the mirror for any telltale signs of sex (of incest!), but all I saw was a guy who looked appropriately sweaty and flushed due to a record-setting heat wave—though, perhaps, I looked a little too pleased with myself. So, I wiped the smile off my face and went downstairs. Sloan soon followed, wearing a fresh change of clothes.

"You guys look like you've been up to no good," said Dad.

"Too hot to get up to anything too mischievous," I said.

"We brought you Chinese," said Mom, proffering a large brown paper bag.

"Ooh! Did you get me the Princess Shrimp?" asked Sloan.

"We know what you like," said Mom. "And, Kurt, we got you the Pan-Fried Noodles."

"Yum," I said.

"Thanks, guys," said Sloan, giving Mom a peck on the cheek. She took the bag from her hand. "But I'm gonna save mine for later. It's too hot to eat hot food now."

"Me too," I said. "Would you put mine in the fridge, Sloan?"

She nodded.

"While you're in the kitchen," I continued, after Mom and Dad had stepped into their study, out of earshot, "what I would like is a nice cold roast beef sandwich."

"I can make you half a sandwich," said Sloan.

"Why only half?"

"You promised me an ice massage. I only got half a massage. You only did my backside. You still have to do my front."