Ingrid (Act 1 of 2)

While suckling his little sister's tart pink clit like it's an even tinier, tangier dick than the one he had sucked yesterday morning, Will asks: How many licks does it take to get to the center of his little sister's Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop? And Mr. Owl takes it from him and, licking it, replies: A-one ... a-two ... a-three ... a-four ... and ten thousand years later he is still licking ... a-gazillion, a-gazillion-and-one. For you see, dear reader, there is no Tootsie Roll center hiding inside Will's little sister's Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop. Ingrid's pussy is infinite and centerless. All that lies beyond each lick is simply more of her to lick, and the occasional gushy wet orgasm.

Meanwhile, Ingrid fumbles in the dark under the covers for her brother's cock. It smells kind of awful under these covers. Suddenly his dick pokes her in the face. Will chuckles a muffled apology through the covers. She repositions his cock for a second and sniffs his groin, and instantly regrets it. Her brother must not have showered since the hotel. Mom's musk is still strong on him--not Fresh Mom, but Day-old Mom--and this is on top of her big brother's usual mannish odors. Ingrid sighs. She breathes in again. The odor will just have to grow on her. Once she gets horny enough, almost nothing grosses her out anyway. Plus, she badly needs her brother's cock right now.

Indeed, no sooner does she have this thought then it kind of clicks together with the shape of his stench, and ta-dah! She pings for the pong.

She masturbates him a little bit, but finds this tricky upside down. He humps into her upside-down fist. She adjusts and tries to match his movement. Is this better?, her hand seems to ask. It seems to be, his dick answers. And so, they help each other out this way. She pumps, he humps. And after a while, they establish a kind of collaborative momentum. She relaxes into her brother's groove. She loves making this idiot cum. She licks her lips.

Will pulls her tiny clit into his lips. Ingrid disappears momentarily from the bed. She forgets entirely what and who she is. Someone's relative or something?

Will is good at eating pussy. He isn't forceful. He doesn't suck. He gently, warmly, wetly holds her in his lips, and sips. He makes unconscious groans of brotherly affection, sort of whimpering on her pussy, and these she hears and feels and wishes she could cram up inside her.

She humps her own groin into his face, irrepressibly at first, but then on purpose: hey, Bro, you are making me feel perfect. Keep sucking my clit. She presses this message into his mouth.

She wishes she could pause and have a sidebar with her brother to explain at length how he is making her feel. It feels like--it feels like--she shoves her brother's too-large cock into her small mouth, presses him by the ass into her throat as far as she can take him, and moans and moans on his cock. She tries, consciously and unconsciously, to keep her throat relaxed as she forces him deeper than is comfortable. Fuck! She needs his cock inside her throat. She has a point to make!

She shoves Will's cock in further, up to the meek cowardly back of her tongue, and gives both a moment to feel each other out. Then she keeps pressing, and pressing--until somehow, boomp, there is the back of her throat. She presses still further, kind of bends his shaft down into her gullet. She doesn't gag. She pushes deeper still, and eventually her bottom lip runs into his bushy pelvis and there is no more of him to push. Her gag reflex stirs as it feels his cock straining to realign itself inside her throat, but it does not fully wake. She wants this so ferociously badly that, apparently, even her pissy gag reflex isn't cruel enough to intervene.

And just like that she's doing it! She is deep throating a cock! Her brother's cock! Mom would be ecstatic. Ingrid suppresses the impulse to grab a quick selfie. Oral retelling will have to suffice. So to speak.

She swallows her big brother's cock, then spits him back up, then swallows him again. She feels like a little kid who's figured out she doesn't need training wheels after all. Look at her go! She has dreamt about this, about being able to do this, and but always woken up feeling silly for having dreamed so big. She wonders if Will can feel his little sister's throat swallowing him, and although it kind of hurts just like she knew it would, the noises he produces every time make her pretty sure he can.

She realizes with glorious glee that her brother is definitely going to cum soon, and that she is giving particularly good head. Maybe not Mom-level, but at the very least "next"-level.

Something that feels like a playful puppy does something in her tummy. Her pussy squeezes, pulses, and she gets almost caught off-guard by an orgasm. She has to pull her brother out of her so she can make high-voiced noises in French. She hears Will moan with both pride and gratitude and suckling a little ahrder. It's intense, sensation-wise, but she has learned to like it when it's intense. Mom has sort of fucked her up that way.

She needs her big brother to cum deep inside her little sister belly now. Or now. Or whenever. She doesn't care if it catches her by surprise, she just wants him to feel even half as spectacular as she does, and she wants this stat.

Will French kisses her slit, getting a bona fide mouthful in reply, and then swallows what she gives him. He savors her flavors right there between her legs where the aromas and odors are at max volume. Right here up close the coffee doesn't even smell like coffee, he thinks. He closes his eyes and just kind of cleans his sister out, licks up and down the sweet tender insides of her outer labia, smacks his lips, gives her pussy a moment to breathe, and then blows hot breath onto his little sister's vulva. She squirms with impish delight. She likes when he just plays with and loves on her like that. He's never eaten her out before, of course, but somehow that he's like this is just no surprise whatsoever.

Ingrid squeezes her brother's skull between her thighs as another orgasm comes tippity-tap-dancing up her spine and breaks into a wild technicolor musical number in her head. The crowd goes bananas. Standing ovation.

Will is going to cum soon. He can feel that little tug-tug at his fingertip, the little orgasm fairy telling him it's time, if he's ready. He appreciates it. Sometimes the fairy asks nicely, and sometimes the fairy just shoves him on-stage without a word of warning.

Will's face is trapped with his nose just past the butt-end of his little sister's pussy, so he kisses her cute little taint. He smooches it, why not. It's Ingrid's. He loves it. He smells what he is already calling the old familiar smell of his little sister's asshole, less than an inch from his nostrils, and this time her bouquet is laced with garlic and soy sauce. He makes a mental note to cum in her ass tonight while she still smells and tastes like Lo Mein.

He wonders if Ingrid might want to do that thing that he did with Emily, where he spat the cum back into her mouth. He wonders as she bucks on his face, chokes on his cock. He is pretty sure Ingrid won't be down. Maybe Mom, then? But for some reason the idea of spitting Ingrid's asshole cum into Mom's mouth doesn't appeal to him as much. Ingrid's stuff is Ingrid's stuff, Mom's is Mom's. Feeding them to each other is nice and all but doesn't seem to add to the magic for him. Maybe it would for them, though? Now, okay, that he can be into.

Ingrid pulls her head back, sucking hard as she unslurps his enormous shaft. Good lord, that cock was all the way inside her throat? And then she rams him back in. Bro humps, Sis pumps. All the while she tries to convey meaning through action: this is how he is making her feel over and over. Something like this, she wants to tell him. She is already very nearly about to cum again on her big brother's face. She almost feels like she has to pee. She hopes he's ready for a mess. (She knows he is.) But whatever, he needs to wash these sheets anyway.

He feels her whimpering down there under covers, her vocal chords purring reed-like on his cock. She hears herself whimpering, too. Every time she exhales, which is frequently, a pretty little flute note quavers in her ears. If he didn't have his mouthful, he would tell her: that feels nice, Sis. If she didn't have her mouthful, she'd say: good, Bro, I'm glad.

She feels her brother's ass-cheeks clench, and she digs her fingernails into them. He's going to cum. He's going to cum. He's summiting that big roller coaster inside his loins. Click-click--click--... click. She holds him all the way in her throat, practically shoving her face into her brother's raunchy ball sack, barely able to breathe but pretty sure she can hold herself like this for maybe ten more seconds. She continues to swallow around his cock, letting her thirsty throat muscles milk him into her.

And he bursts inside her just like that. Surprise! He goes into minor hysterics. He disengages his mouth from her pussy in order to gasp, dumbfounded with pleasure, and then to groan loudly and at length. One hand lets go of her ass and darts down to the back of her head. He grabs a fistful of her silky bun and rams himself deep as he can into her insides, as jet after jet sprays directly into the back of her gullet--do not pass tongue, do not collect two hundred dollars. Then just as suddenly, he stops. He freezes. He release his grip on her bun, and gently but eagerly pats it. Good little sister, he pats. If her cheeks weren't already fire engine red with exertion, she would blush.

Swallowing his cum, this comparatively easygoing liquid, with such a large, angry obstruction in her throat throws her brain for a loop. She is a little dizzy, she realizes. She disengages. She finally gags at the very last second as she's pulling him out of her.

The hyper-sensation on his cock of her accidental gag makes her brother take a sharp, startled breath like she's just stabbed him. And yet he keeps suckling at her clit, like a good big brother.

"Sorry," she mutters to him, barely able to produce her voice. Gagging has also exacerbated her dizzy spell. Whoa. Yeesh.

She keeps jerking him off through the spins, her lips sealed around his tingling cock head half as much for balance as for pleasure. She knows her brother's cum--and she is excited to actually hold some on her tastebuds--might just clear her head. She lovingly collects the last few spurts as his orgasm subsides. They drizzle sideways into her mouth. They coat the inside of her cheek and the sides of her teeth as she swishes the cum up to where she can taste it and swallow it.

Swallowing feels bizarrely terrible right now, especially sideways. Some of Will's cum doesn't even go down on the first attempt. She taps her brother's head to let her know she's coming out from under the covers. He unplugs his face from her groin. She does another relay swimmer pivot, pokes back up, out onto the pillow adjacent her brother--gives him a polite kiss on his blissed-out, glistening, loudly smelly face--then sits up against the headboard and coughs a little, clears her throat, and gets that last little bit of his cum to trickle down to where it needs to be inside her. Jesus. So that is going to take some getting used to.

She kicks off the covers. Will does, too. They sit there, bottomless, Will laid out flat on his back, Ingrid sitting up against the headboard with her bare legs straight out in front of her. You can practically see the steam rising up from between both of their legs. You can certainly smell it. Ingrid fans her crotch with the hem of her top. She sighs out a dramatic "Whew" that makes Will laugh a very manly laugh. Then Ingrid laughs a very manly laugh. And then they both laugh their normal laughs.

She scoots down off the headboard and clambers on top of her brother. He's out of commission, of course, but she isn't. Doesn't care, either.

"Remember how you wanted me to pee in your mouth?" she grins at him. He can see her now. In the hallway light and the dark.

"Of course," he answers unconvincingly.

His heart is suddenly pounding at the door of his brain begging to be let in. Shit. Shit. Shit. Is this happening now? All of a sudden? Real, actual piss-in-mouth? The smelly yellow toilet drink that stinks like childhood shame? Was he even thirsty enough for this, much less horny? "Not on my bed--please!"

Ingrid cackles with delight.

"NO, doofus! But I'm saying I'm ready to do it. It's now or never. One-time offer. You get to drink my pee tonight. Let's go hop in the shower. Before I come to and realize what a gross idea this is."

"Shower. Okay."

"Come onnnn, you know you waaaant it! Thiiink about it!" She tickles his numb, soaking wet cock. It writhes like a salted snail. "My pussy over your face, me clenching my tight little ass, that spray hitting your tongue--thiiiink about it!"

"Oh, shit. This is happening. Okay."

She is already dragging him out of bed. She has stood up out of bed and gotten a vice grip on her brother's wrist and she is ragdolling him out of his own bed by his one big dumb arm. She has always been like this. Stronger than was safe for either of them.

He chortles and just lets her have at it. He isn't horny again yet, and this whole pee-drinking thing is presently over-stimulatingly real to him, so a little delay is welcome. And now for some reason he has a case of the chortles. He happens to look at who's emergency evacuating him from his own bed and sees it's just his bare-ass little sister, apparently dead-set on getting him to the bathroom so she can pee on him. It's funny to him, he can't help it. She looks extra hilarious with no pants on or anything, too, yanking at his arm, her little pussy just bouncing around down there, heaving and ho-ing as she lugs him out of bed an inch at a time. His own little sister, for pete's sake! He'd taught her how to ride a bike!

He'd also sucked her clit until she came like--he can't be sure how many times. At least once. He grins ear to ear with manly pride. It is just such a wonderfully manly thing to make a girl cum with your mouth. Will has a weird relationship to masculinity, which is to say, he isn't all that masculine, nor does he much love masculinity. But there is something to be said for making a girl cum with your mouth all the same. He figures even lesbians have to know what he means when he says it's a wonderfully manly thing. He hopes anyway. He likes lesbians. He and lesbians are always fast friends for some reason.

She jostles him hard all of a sudden, hurts his shoulder to be honest, and a bitter, nasty, pussy-flavored burp comes gurgling out of him. He could die happy right now: forsooth, he has known what it is to burp and taste his sister's cum.

"Ingrid?"

"COME. ON. YOU. STUPID."

"Ingrid, you can let go. I'm up. I mean, I'm down."

Chapter Thirty-one

Dear reader, you may wish to adjourn here if water sports are not your thing. This author appreciates that not all will find it arousing. And even just the curious among you may wish to pause and reckon with what it actually is to drink a full bladder of human urine.

Allow me to attempt to explain. Have you ever finished a bowl of chicken noodle soup by drinking all the broth? Did you do this all at once, chug-chug-chug, until the bowl was empty? Or did you take a chug or two, let all that hot savory liquid kind of settle into your belly, make a quiet noise like "Ahhh," then possibly even set the bowl back down for a moment before you went for another gulp?

Maybe you can tell where I'm going with this. As it so happens, sucking piss straight from the tap, so to speak, is like chugging a bowl of broth in a single uninterrupted chug-chug-chug, and in fact it's kind of like having someone else hold the bowl for you while you do it, someone who happens to prefer to tilt the bowl a little faster than you would prefer the bowl be tilted, and who doesn't care as much as you might about making a hot stinking mess all over the front of your favorite t-shirt if you can't keep up.

You have to be ready to commit when you start to drink someone's piss. And be warned, while pee does bear an uncanny resemblance to chicken broth while you're chugging it, it nevertheless tastes like pee when you're done. You won't likely make that "Ahhh" noise. Instead, you'll likely make the face everyone makes when they drink a lot of piss all at once. Yes, it is exactly the face you are imagining.

Is piss the worst beverage in the world? No. There is this inordinately popular liquor produced in the Eastern Hemisphere--I do not want to go into specifics, lest I offend--that tastes indisputably worse to the uninitiated palate. You can order yourself a bottle and try it if you don't believe me. Just google "very popular disgusting liquor" and the name of a major Eastern power and you'll probably find it.

But is piss surprisingly great, then, like pussy juice or asshole cum? No. Sorry. It is rather unsurprisingly not great. Though to be fair, asshole cum maybe isn't for everybody, either.

Chapter Thirty-two

Ingrid has her pink bony foot up on the rim of the tub and her hot smelly pussy directly in her brother's face. She is aiming herself at his mouth maybe three inches or so away, trying to line up a trajectory that she is just now realizing she doesn't much experience with having to "line up." She is having some last-minute performance anxiety. It is making it hard to relax her bladder.

"Why are we doing this again?" Ingrid asks, giggling anxiously. Her smelly, bed-headed brother is sitting bottomless in the bathtub in front of her. He needs to shave. He definitely needs to brush his teeth. He still has his favorite t-shirt on from back in his high school days because it hasn't yet occurred to him that this might be a messy experiment.

"Because I want to try it," he says matter-of-factly. There isn't a better answer.

"Yeah, but ... why do you want this? I'm really about to let her rip in a sec, Bro. You can still back out. Okay? If you want to back out, this is the time to do it."

"I'm not going anywhere. If anything, I'd rather you just get going already. Here, I can even--" he starts to put his mouth on her.

"Nuh-uh," she says a split-second later, and pushes him back by the forehead. "Too weird, Bro. I can't relax if you're literally sucking my cooch. Sorry. But maybe once I get going you can try and latch on?" She cracks herself up a little bit.

"Sorry, Sis. Hurry up then. This is starting to freak me out."

"I will!" she laughs. She's starting to freak out, herself. "Bro, you're really--I'm about to pee right now and you're just sitting there in the way. With your mouth hanging open! This is a riot! Sorry. I'm sorry. I know this is your thing. I don't mean to take the piss." She cracks herself up again.

He just licks his lips. He doesn't want to close his mouth because he knows the second he does is when she'll start spraying everywhere. Should he maybe take off his shirt, though?

"Shoot," Ingrid suddenly pauses. "Do you want me to film this? I should grab my phone. I wished I had it earlier, and now this time I can just go grab it. Let me go grab it. I'm going to go grab it."

She hops out of the tub and scampers out of the bathroom. He hears her feet slap down the hall and into her bedroom. She's back a moment later. She eyes the wall opposite the shower.