My Sister, the Vampire

Then I remembered wondering if she shaved, and the spell her breasts cast on me was broken.

The instant I saw made it obvious why no trace of bush showed through the gauzy fabric, why no dark triangle appeared in any of the photos. And, thank the gods or the universe or whatever, but she did not damage that beauty with a razor.

A triangle so pale red, so light the fur only slightly darker than the pallid skin of her loins glowed in the light. A golden triangle of wispy curls, a thing of such beauty it rivaled her breasts in sheer magnificence. I must also stop here to again thank the gods for her warning me not to speak, because had I said anything at that moment, words stupid enough to change her mind surely would have gushed out.

And if she left before I sucked on those bubblegum nipples and buried my face in her golden triangle, I'd need to finish slicing my throat open from where she left off.

I don't know how it happened, because she never lifted up, never guided my cock into her. It happened so fast and my head was spinning. Best I can tell, she slid up the length of my rod, smooth and dripping, and then we were making love. Without a second's hesitation, she dropped down, her body taking the full length of me inside her.

A sound escaped me, somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. I grabbed her hips, still stunned. A rush of excitement and amazing pleasure took over. For a minute, she didn't move, just sat there with me inside her—she must not have anticipated it, at least not then. Red hair cascaded over her face, one sexy Grudge-like eye peering down at me, then she pushed it back and we stared into each other's face. Literally a minute passed, neither of us moving otherwise.

Then she raised up, and I expected her to jump up and disappear.

"Maybe we should..."

One firm palm pressed against my lips. "I said, no talking."

As she said it, her hips pressed down again. I pushed down on her hips, then lifted as she began pumping up and down in a slow rhythm, which was perfect because my heart was beating so fast if we'd started screwing like rabbits, I probably would have had a heart attack. And I really couldn't do that to my own sister, leaving her to explain to the cops reason I dropped dead. Although I am sure my ghost would have been doubled up laughing in the corner watching her come up with a story.

Both hands braced on my shoulders, she arched her back, forward and back, snakelike in her motions, boobs sticking straight out, firm and pale and lovelier than anything my imagination was capable of conjuring up. I let go of her hips and took two handfuls of boob. Definitely B-cups, although on her tiny frame, until I grasped them, I thought they might be larger, but my hands don't lie, and they squeezed those beautiful tits, pressed them into her ribs as she moved up and down, her back still rolling in waves. Her hair fell back down over her face.

One hand on the back of my head pulled me to one tit, the pert nipple rolling around my tongue. Sucking, nibbling, licking all brought moans from her, speeding the thrusting of her hips. Her scent, so familiar, now changed in a way I cannot describe, but the smell drove me further into a frenzy.

It arrived too quickly, that first orgasm. In all that excitement and the surreal situation, I simply could not control it. Wave after wave gushing up inside my sister, changing the sensation, lubing now. After about the second wave, her internal muscles tensed in a most marvelous way, squeezing it out of me. After each spasm squirted, she clamped down on me, gripping tightly. I fucking screamed, it was so intense.

She laughed. She brushed her hair back again, a big smile on her face, laughing. And then she collapsed on me, moving her hips enough for my cock to rub her clit until it faded. I grabbed her ass and helped her hit the spot until I was soft enough that her bizarre, amazing gripping forced it to slip out.

Her breath hot on my neck, panting, her boobs smashed against my chest, I caressed her back. And she licked the bite on my neck. And then started sucking it again.

I threw her off and was on top of her in a heartbeat, my tongue exploring her mouth, her lips warm and soft, her tongue dancing with mine. I could have kissed her all night—could have done anything all night—but a desire to lick another part of her overwhelmed me. Taking my time, making sure to kiss everything from her neck down to her stomach, spending quite a while with each nipple in my mouth before compelled ever down, my tongue left wet streaks along the white skin of her stomach.

The heat rising from between her legs warmed my face before I touched it, but I teased her by kissing the insides of her thighs, licking her bronze fur, until finally she shoved my face into her.

Normally, I don't eat creampie, but for her, I gladly made an exception. I really didn't care—all I wanted was to hear her have an orgasm, to feel her tighten up with ecstasy. My tongue attacked her, ravenous, and she didn't disappoint me, moaning wildly when I found her swollen clit. When I sucked it, her voice lowered, deep and strange, considering I had known that voice my whole life, but never making the sounds she made that night. It didn't take her long. That first orgasm made her whole body shake. Thighs clamped my ears and her whole body relaxed, save for the quivering that continued to shake her.

How many can I lick out of her?

I reached up and grabbed her tits and continued giving her a tongue-lashing. Her hand squeezed the back of one hand, guiding me how she liked it, so I followed along; in the other hand, I rolled her nipple between my fingers.

After I licked out a second one, I climbed up and stabbed my resurrected cock back into her. This time without the tenderness or restraint of that first time. This time, it was a wild frenzy. We lip-locked for a while, but then we needed to breathe, so our lips just rested against each other's, breath heavy on my face. At some point, she rolled me over, taking control, this time moving like mad, too, then I rolled her back. Her heels dug into the small of my back, then higher, almost to my shoulders as I thrust into her with everything I had. When I came again, I shouted her name but kept thrusting, kept screwing her.

A drop of blood dripped onto her chest, and she licked my neck and pulled me down to like flat on her and she sucked me while I continued fucking her. Each thrust made her squeal a little until she, too, came again. She, too, violated her rule, repeating my name with each exhale, and I kept stabbing into her until she stopped.

Then, I lay atop her, sweating, spent and more satisfied than I had ever been. When my willie grew soft, she squeezed it a few more times until it popped out of her again, and our bodies shook together laughing at the absurdity. I wanted to fall asleep like that, but she needed to pee and, come to mention it, I did, too.

Outside the bathroom, she waited for me, still naked and sweaty, and she kissed me roughly, with more pent-up passion than I imagined she had in her. I grabbed that sweet little ass again and lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around to hang on as I leaned her against the wall and our tongues moved in powerful, crazy patterns together.

It took a while, but eventually, it stiffened up again.

There wasn't any need to discuss it. She felt it and manoeuvered her hips until she could take me in again. And right there, against the wall of my flat, I took my sister for a third time that night.

This time was more like the first time: slow, almost tender, and we found a rhythm together. Soft lips rubbed against my cheek. I licked sweat off her as it rolled down, and her hair got in my mouth, but I didn't care. I wanted to play with her titties some more, but her arms around my neck held me too close, so I kept them on her ass and guided it up and down. Her juices ran down to tickled my balls.

That may be the closest I will ever get to Heaven—even though we both knew we were going to Hell and enjoying every thrust of the journey there.

And then she started sucking my neck again. The bleeding must have stopped, because she bit the hell out of me again. I swear, if she tore a mouthful of flesh from the side of my neck, I would not have stopped. She alternated sucking my blood and gasping and moaning, and I was grunting like a gorilla, and her boobs slid against my chest wet with sweat. I licked another teardrop of sweat from her face. The sheer number of body fluids we had exchanged almost made me laugh.

Our eyes were locked together as we came that time, and we came together. Her eyes would close for a second, then opened again, wild and glowing blue and green and looking at me out of the corners. No woman has ever looked sexier than she looked as my jism shot up into her. Not much was left, of course, but she squeezed out every drop with those amazing muscle contractions of hers—something I never expected of a woman with kids. Nor did I ever expect that from my sister. Hell, I didn't expect anything that happened that day from my sister!

When we were done, she left to sleep on the couch. I tried to stop her, but she put two fingers on my lips and said, "Shhhh."

To this day, we have never spoken a word about it. Sometimes, over Christmas presents or across the Thanksgiving table in the middle of dinner she will give me a sly look that lets me know she is remembering that night she sucked my blood and screwed my brains out.

Forty-seven of those photos show tit. No one but me has ever seen those pictures, nor will they. I look at them often—usually late at night, in the dark. Truly remarkable breasts. Some nights I call out her name again when I look at them and remember.

Well, I did sort of mention it to her once.

The copy of the book I gave her—with a gorgeous photo of her in that semi-sheer nightgown on the cover—I signed it in red:

She came in the night.

No man has seen with his eyes

A more beautiful vision,

Or yearned for a bite

upon his neck, the blood

Willingly given, and shared.

For that bite gave him eternity.

I wonder if she realized I did not use ink, but signed her copy in my own blood?

© de Vere Literary, 2021