Looking for Trouble Ch. 04

Somehow, I stifled the groan that tried to escape my throat as her entrance kissed my tip. I lowered myself farther; her heat and her moisture closed tightly over my cock. I shuddered at the indescribable sensation of her feminine sheath stretching to accomodate my girth and my length as I forged into her. She shuddered under me, making her channel contract around me. She, too, I knew, was stifling the noises our bodies wanted her to make.

We lay in near darkness, bodies connected, adjusting to now half-familiar—but still nearly overwhelming—sensations, bringing ourselves under something that resembled control. Knowing, now, that we were in possession, total possession, of each other's bodies, our urgency diminished, and we found some rationality. After a bit, I could ask, "Do you think this is wise? With Dad in the house?"

"Of course it isn't," she whispered back as I kissed her neck. "But he's at the other end of the house, and he was snoring away when I got home a half-hour ago. He won't hear us if we're careful."

"I sure hope not," I answered.

"Did you ever hear Mom and Dad doing this?" she asked.

It took me a little bit to adjust to the thought of our parents, of our parents fucking. But I guessed they must have—after all, they made Brielle and me somehow—and, probably, they had. And still did.

"No," I said. "I'd never thought about it, but they must have done it, lots of times, and I never heard them." My cock wanted to explore its surroundings a bit. I made a gentle, exploratory thrust. Her pussy's hot grasp tightened around me and my cock throbbed back.

"Mmmm. That feels good," she answered. "I never heard them either. So we're safe as long as we keep the noise down."

Another gentle thrust from my hips; my cock moved inside her and her pussy pulsed around it again.

"I hope we're safe…" I replied.

"Do you want to stop?" she asked, as her hips rocked under me and her pussy delivered a caress to the cock we'd embedded in her.

My hips bucked as they responded to her motion. My cock pulled partially out of her and embedded itself again to its full length. The friction of her sheath wrapped around it almost elicted a groan from me, but I stifled it successfully.

"That's what I thought," she whispered, her hips moving again under me.

My hips bucked again; moving my cock—out and in. Another groan boiled inside me. Somehow, I kept that noise in, mostly, as I drew my cock part way out of her. She moved upward toward me as I lowered my hips, and her muted groan greeted the repenetration.

"I love feeling you move inside me," my sister breathed softly in my ear. Her hips continued to rock under me; her sheath delivered its corresponding caresses.

"I love to feel you tight around me," I murmured into her ear. I was moving, too: in…out…in…out, in, out, in, out, in-out-in-out-in-out-inoutinoutinoutinout…

We exploded together; sweet agony churned in my groin as my cum surged from my body and erupted through my cock into the welcoming depths of my twin sister's body. She writhed under me, and groans escaped us both—but muffled groans, faint and—I hoped with what remained of my self-control—inaudible outside my room. At orgasm's end, my strength faded and I collapsed onto her. But I retained enough presence of mind to think I hope she remembered to close my door when she came in here.

It was the first thing I asked her when we'd regained control of ourselves.

"Do you think I'm a dope?" she asked. "Too? And I closed my own door. If Dad comes into the hall for some reason, all we have to do is keep quiet. He won't bother either door because he'll think we're both asleep." As she finished, I felt her pussy tighten around my still-embedded cock.

I shuddered in response to the pussy-bite. "Just making sure," I said. "Even if it is a little late." I gave my cock another thrust—gentle, now, as we shared the after-fuck.

"Mmm," she moaned, "you still feel good when you move inside me." She paused and rocked her hips gently under me. Then she went on, "I didn't know we were gonna do this, but…"

"But you were hoping." I bumped my hips again. My cock was softening, in spite of where it was still embedded. But it remained hard enough to have some effect.

Another little moan answered my thrust, and she replied, "Well… Yes! I thought about you, and having your dick inside me, after I went to bed. It made me play with myself. And then, just like the first time I woke you up, it made me get wet. I thought, We should fool around a little."

"So you snuck in here…"

"Mmm-hmm. But you were fast asleep. I pulled your covers off, and your dick was hard, sticking out of your PJs. It made me wonder if I could get you off without waking you."

"Speaking of my dick being hard…" I began, and let the thought hang.

"Hard, did you say?" I could hear the laughter underlying the question. "It sure doesn't feel very hard right now."

"You woke me, but then you sure did get me off," I pointed out as my poor, tired old cock slipped out of her. Our connection gone for now, I rolled to her side. She wasn't quite done with me, though. She rolled toward me where I now lay on my back beside her, and I felt her throw her arm across my chest, her folded leg across my thighs. She pressed her pussy against me and wiggled. As I put my own arm around her, I felt her pussy's lips paint my thigh with the products of our activity.

She moaned under her breath, kissed my neck, and laid her head on my shoulder. "It's not as good as your dick, but your leg feels good, too, she whispered into my ear.

I squeezed her, she squeezed back. I murmured, "You know, it's pretty risky for us to get together like this when Dad's home—even if he's asleep."

"We can't cut risk completely. Remember when Mom almost caught you sneaking into my room that night? Doing it when somebody else is home is riskier than doing it when we're the only ones home, I guess. But we found out that's risky, too. Remember that time when Dad came home early and almost caught us fooling around in the living room, naked, nearly fucking?" she pointed out. "We just have to be more careful. We need to know when somebody will be home, and or we have to be sure everyone else is asleep before we get started."

I said "You're right about being more careful. I sure missed you at bedtime when you were at work and I thought we wouldn't be able to get together tonight because of Dad. But it was worth the risk."

"It sure was worth it tonight," she agreed, squeezing me. "Fucking is really, really good with you. And it's nice to lie here in bed against you, too, but I'd better go. I was already tired from work when I got home, and it's an hour later now. But we can't afford to fall asleep in the same bed, naked in each other's arms—much as I'd like to."

"God! That's for sure! I don't even want to think about Dad catching you coming out of here in the morning."

"That would be a bummer," she agreed, as she pulled herself away from me and rolled to the side of the bed, where she sat up. "Or looking in on you in the morning and finding us both fast asleep, naked, with dried cum all over us." Before she stood, she looked back at me, turned, and leaned over to kiss me. It was a sweet, gentle, lengthy kiss. When it was over, she scooped up her nightie and her panties and tiptoed toward the door.

"Wait," I said in a stage whisper. She stopped and looked back at me.

"Let me check the hall," I whispered as I got out of bed. "If…"

I didn't have to finish the sentence; she nodded her head, understanding that my naked sister probably shouldn't stick her head out her brother's bedroom door into the hall at two in the morning to see if Dad was in sight.

The hall was clear. I opened the door wide and moved aside to let her pass into the hall. Quietly, she stepped to her own door, almost right across the hall from mine. She put her hand on her doorknob, turned back, blew me a kiss, and slid silently into her own room. The door closed behind her—noiselessly, except for a subdued click from the latch.

Back in my own bed, I didn't bother with my PJs, but pulled the long forgotten covers over myself. (Though it was June, and pretty warm outside, cool air from the air conditioner blew over me, and I needed a couple of blankets to sleep comfortably.) With a muted sigh of satisfaction, I turned on my side; I fell asleep before I was even aware that I was trying to.

==||<>||==

I didn't work on Saturdays—not at the nursery, that is. But Dad liked to have me mow the lawn on Saturday morning. So, even though I didn't have to get up as early as on days when I worked, I did get up a little after seven in order to get out there and finish the job before it got too hot. I'd gotten the backyard finished and was about half way through the front yard when Bree came out of the house.

She had her purse over her shoulder and the keys to Mom's car in her hand, so she was headed somewhere. Seeing me look over at her, she signed that whe wanted to talk to me, and, as I shut the mower down, she walked over to where I was standing. She smirked at me when she realized that I was surreptitiously checking her out as she walked. Her back was to the house, so—even if he happened to be looking out at us—Dad wouldn't be able so see that naughty expression.

"I'm going to do a little shopping," she announced, "but I'll be home this afternoon." She gave me a significant look, and went on: "Dad says that he's going to spend the afternoon catching up on the house calls and hospital calls that he fell behind on when he was gone."

I got the unspoken message immediately. There was no one in earshot—not even Dad would hear us from inside the house—so I said, "You mean…" and let the rest hang. I was facing the house, so, on the off-chance that Dad might be looking, I controlled my urge to return the significant look.

Her dirty smirk was now a dirty grin. "That's exactly what I mean," she said. "We won't have any other time today. He'll still be up when I get home from work tonight—and who knows how much later—getting his sermon ready for tomorrow morning."

I rolled my eyes and said, "He says writing his sermons is one of the things about his work that he likes most. But he never seems to get started much before ten on Saturday evening."

"Yeah. And then he falls asleep watching a ball game every Sunday afternoon," she said. "So we'd better do it while he's out of the house this afternoon. There's no telling when he'll finally be asleep tonight."

"Makes sense," I agreed. "I'd squeeze you and kiss you now, but he might look out the window to see why the mower stopped running. See you later."

"Later," she said, and—looking me in the eye—she gave her lips a naughty little lick. Then she headed for the car.

I restarted the lawn mower, hoping that if Dad had happened to look out the window, he hadn't seen the bulge in my pants grow as Bree and I were deciding how to spend part of our afternoon.

When I went back to work on the grass, I noticed that The Widder was watching from where she was seated on her front porch. Damn! I said to myself. Doesn't that old busybody have anything better to do? It's a good thing I didn't grab a feel!

In a mild panic, I mentally reviewed that conversation with Bree. I settled down some when I figured out that Lola couldn't have seen any of the expressions on Bree's face as we talked. I'd kept my own face under control, and there was no way—from two houses down the block—that the half-deaf old biddy could have heard anything either of us said. Nor, I decided, was she at all likely, from so far away, to have noticed how my jeans had bulged and then subsided. By the time I'd finished the lawn, panic was gone. But desire continued to grow in me.

==||<>||==

Bree was back before lunch, and as she and I fixed the meal for the three of us (Dad was working in his study), she rubbed against me repeatedly—always with that naughty grin on her face. At each of those touches, my cock surged. Especially, it surged, when her second rub confirmed what I'd already guessed: under her sweatshirt, she wore no bra.

After that second rub, I found myself rubbing back. When she reached into the cupboard to get a pan, she bent over toward me. And she bent over a good bit more than was necessary—so that her loose sweatshirt hung down from her neck and gave me a very nice view of her tits. She smiled at me innocently after she straightened up. Her innocence was patently false and served only to prove that she knew exactly what she'd just done. And that it was just what she had intended to do.

True to his word, after lunch Dad put on a black suit and tie—we all called it his 'preacher uniform.' Then he left, saying he'd be gone until at least four, but he'd be home for supper.

He was no sooner out the door than I stood by that selfsame door, peeking through its head-height window, Bree right beside me. She leaned against me and rubbed me with her body—her tits in particular—as she stood on tiptoe to get her own peek.

We showed some restraint about reaching for each other—it must have been at least 10 seconds after his car pulled away from the curb—right after I'd turned from the window—when Bree's hand found its way to my crotch and stroked. Naturally, what she found was hard.

"Hey!" I said. "You shouldn't do that!"

She looked me in the eye, the naughty smirk on her face. "Oh? Why not?" She didn't let go; she just stroked a little more emphatically.

"Because I'm a boy and you're a girl," I pointed out. "What if everybody behaved that way?"

"If everybody behaved that way," she replied, "don't you think I'd be a damn fool not to."

"Okay," I said. "I guess you would."

She reached for my zipper and had it halfway down as she continued, "Let's see what I can find in here."

My cock, tired of being restrained by my pants, sprang to freedom.

"Mmm! There is something in there. What a surprise!" she remarked. Grasping firmly, she pumped.

"Well, technically," I said, "you didn't find anything in there. You found something outside my pants." And she dropped to her knees in front of me.

Still jacking me, she grinned her dirty grin again and said, "I wonder what I should do with this."

"What you're doing feels pretty good," I said, "but I think I can offer a suggestion or two…"

She leaned forward, kissed my tip, and pulled back a bit, leaving her hand wrapped around me. "Oh," she replied, "I'll think of something…"

She looked up at me; her face bore her 'innocent as a new-born lamb' expression. I was about to ask whether she was sure she didn't need any suggestions, when she proved that she didn't: She leaned forward and deep-throated me. Placing a hand on either of my hips, she started drawing me in and out, in and out.

She'd taken me completely by surprise, and, almost paralyzed by sensation in my cock, I couldn't do much but enjoy what she was doing for me. She kept it up for God-knows-how-long—which probably wasn't any more than thirty seconds or so—before she drew back and looked up at me. "I think you liked that," she said.

Coming, at least partially, out of the trance she'd put me in, I reached down and pulled her to her feet. "Bedroom…" I managed to force my mouth to say, and I pulled her out of the foyer and into the living room in the general direction of our rooms. My cock, standing proudly out of my jeans and glistening with the moisture of her mouth's caress, led the way.

She came willingly, saying, "I thought that might get your attention."

As we passed Dad's favorite easy chair, I had second thoughts. Not about what we should do, you understand, but about where we should do it—and when. I stopped, turned around, and took her into my arms for a lengthy kiss. And, as we kissed, I reached between us to work on her belt buckle. Accommodatingly, she pulled her hips back a bit to give me room. When I had her jeans' buckle, button, and zipper undone, I broke our kiss, inserted a thumb under jeans and panties at each of her hips, and lowered both to her knees.

I had to bend over to accomplish that, and as I laid her pussy bare, its scent flowed into my nostrils. The totality of her femininity intoxicated me and confirmed my new ideas about where and when. My self-control wavered.

"Right here! Right now!" I said. I turned her so that she faced the side of Dad's chair, and I bent her over the armrest.

As I pushed her over, she responded, with a half-surprised, half-lustful, but fully cooperative, "Oooo! I did get your attention!" She was just beginning to understand the storm she'd raised within me.

She pulled her feet together, bent her knees, arched her back, and rolled her hips backward and upward to make sure that I had a good view. At the sight of her bare ass and her naked pussy, my self-control stopped wavering—it crumbled.

"You've been asking for this!" I said as I took almost ten seconds—which seemed far too long—to unbuckle belt, drop jeans and undershorts to my ankles, and pull one of my feet out of them. "And now you're going to get it," I added as the storm broke. I set a foot to either side of her, grasped my cock, directed it to her entrance, and with a single thrust, embedded it—all of it—in her pussy's seething heat.

She responded with a grunt as our bodies collided and drove the air out of her.

Immediately, before she could recover and say anything, I put a hand on each of her hips, withdrew most of the way, and pushed back into her.

"Oh, God!" she squealed, and followed it with a series of additional grunts as the intensity of the tempest doubled and redoubled. I withdrew and pounded into her again, and again, and again. Now we were both at the mercy of my need; at every stroke, her sheath's hot wet friction amplified that need.

Still grunting at each of my thrusts, she tried to respond to them, but her position over the arm of the chair restricted her movement, and her efforts weren't very effective. No matter. My own efforts, I understood dimly, would suffice.

Need, desire, and compulsion crescendoed within me as I drove my cock into and out of, into and out of, my twin sister's body. My consciousness was altered, then, but the noises that came from her at each thrust didn't seem to be those of protest—not that I was entirely capable of reading those noises. Nor that it would have made any difference to me if I'd understood them as protests.

Undeniable forces within me—forces that even I didn't fully understand—drove me onward. Her pussy felt so good wrapped around my cock; and every time I thrust again into my twin sister's welcoming body, it felt even better. Time stood still, and I pumped onward, ramming into her again and again, stoking the energies that gathered in my groin. At last, just as I had begun to think I could stand it no longer, my cock exploded inside her and my need to pump ended. One last time, I drove my cock into my twin sister as far as it would go, and my fiery cum surged into her, surged again, surged yet again, continued to surge as the energies in me found their outlet.

Uncomprehending, lost in the sensation of my cock pumping my semen against and through the tight grasp of her sheath, I heard her scream at the arrival of her own culmination. She was still screaming and thrashing as I collapsed on her—collapsed in the fleeting exhaustion of fulfillment.