My Sister's Wedding Pt. 06

It was the day of my sister's wedding, and traffic was giving me trouble. I had run from my aunt's basement, fled from the terrifying neighborhood where dark deeds lurked beneath the heavenly façade of a beautiful older woman. Somehow, I had to get back to the wedding.

Raising my thumb in the air I managed to hitch a ride part of the way, and ...

... her hands soft, my old kindergarten teacher caressed my crotch, whispering in my ear. "Let's see if you are still smooth down there."

"Please," I said, "I'm running out of time, I ..."

... found myself taking a shortcut across a field. What I didn't know was that my best friend from collage was living there, in a small house. I hadn't seen him in forever, he'd moved away. He wasn't at home, but his girlfriend was. I had never seen her before. She was pregnant ...

... as she went down on her knees in front of me, sweating in that luminous way only a pregnant woman can do. I turned my face from her big, green eyes and firm, round breasts, forcing myself not to cling to the glistening muscles of her lower back, falling from her sweater and fleeing from her tight yoga pants. She was a really nice person, I thought as I stared at a picture of myself and my best friend from a long time ago. We'd gone fishing in a ...

... small lake in the middle of nowhere. I looked around. There, in the distance, I saw the church. And something else, a car parked in the mud, smoke coming out of the inch above the back-seat window. Hesitantly I approached, I didn't know if ...

... my boss's daughter looked out from the pungent mist. She'd been smoking pot or something stronger. Her eyes were blurred. She was 18 years old, today if I remembered correctly. He'd talked about it at work, we shook his hand. She straddled me in the mud, fucking my brains out with her tight and tiny drug-fueled body. She forced her ashy fingers down my throat, making me suck on them, humming a jingle from a beer commercial, and I had to ...

... cough as I leaned against the side of the church, my tongue swelling in my mouth. From inside I could hear organ music, singing, happiness. I couldn't go in there, not now. I was a mess, clothes dirty and torn, my face a blank stare as I tried to see through the stained-glass window.

It was the moment of my sister's wedding, and I couldn't join her because of this stupid curse. Sure, it wasn't all bad, but some things were more important than the greatest, filthiest sexual experiences we could imagine. I realized that now, standing by myself as a cold wind started to blow. I shivered.

Feeling my legs jerk from exhaustion I walked to the other building, where we would be having dinner afterwards. Trying a door, I found myself in a completely different part of the place. Gathering my thoughts, I guessed I was in the hotel part of the complex. Some of the guests would be staying here. Trying another door, I happened to find a suite.

Feeling very foolish but mostly tired I walked into the bathroom, undressed, and took a long shower, massaging my sore parts. Rubbing myself down with a fluffy, white towel I marveled at how nice it was to feel clean again. Grabbing a robe in a clear plastic bag I sat down in a mahogany armchair and immediately fell asleep. From outside came the sounds of the wedding party leaving the church.

***

"Hello?" I gasped, hearing something, turning my head. But the room was completely dark, the only light from a lamppost outside. I took a deep breath.

It was a nightmare, I thought, until I felt the smooth robe down my arms, my naked calves cold in the night air. Yawning I stood up, almost falling down because of a cramp down my side, and I stumbled to the wardrobe, fumbling for a pair of slippers also in a clear plastic bag. Feeling my feet getting warmer I turned around with a quivering noise in my throat.

Someone was coming!

High-heels, tipsy with drink, managed to reach the door, dragging their whole body against it, from what it sounded like. But it was worse than that. Two people, both in high-heels, whispering lovingly, a gasp audible through the stiff wooden planks. I took another look around. There, on the table in the corner. Wedding presents, stacked high against the wall.

It was the night of my sister's wedding, and I was standing in the suite booked for her wedding night!

"Stupid, stupid!" I muttered to myself. I had helped to pay for the fucking room! The tall, silvery package was mine! A candelabra!

"Fuck!" I said as I forced myself into the wardrobe, before the door finally opened and my sister and her bride walked into the room.

I could hear them making out, moaning as hands reached underneath silky material. It was weird not seeing them, feeling myself getting stiff out of my robe. It was no use trying to get it under the hem again. Bending down I saw them through the key-hole, my beautiful sister and the tall and handsome groom, her short, black hair stylishly combed from her forehead. Dressed in a suit, she looked pale in the lamppost light, next to the golden radiance of my sister, who seemed young and innocent in comparison, like a bride robbed from her parent's arms by the flattering words of a stranger.

The hem of my sister's wedding dress tumbled up over the pale hand, exposing white stockings and a garter belt, a dangerous red against the plump skin. The hand went to the inside of her thighs, and my sister moaned. I could hear the wet sound of fingers gliding up and down my sister's lips.

I was content. Let them have their moment, I thought, trying to get more comfortable in the wardrobe, sitting down.

A loud creaking sound came from the old furniture.

My sister and her bride turned their heads to face me.

I tried to move to a steadier place, only to raise the devil from the dusty planks, some ghastly thing and I jerked around my axis in the wardrobe, wanting to stay still but couldn't. I fell and counted myself lucky when I felt something smooth and soft against my face. It smelled familiar.

The wardrobe door was thrown open. The groom growled down at me, grabbed me by the robe and almost tore it from my body as I was flung into the room. I waited for the moment of recognition, of humiliation, but she just stared at me, confusion setting in as the curse flowed through her. She blinked a couple of times. I wondered why they didn't speak to me, the bride's own brother. I put a hand to my face and felt something smooth. It was a pair of panties, my sister's panties. I recognized the smell now. It was the smell of my sister's pussy. I didn't even know I knew that one.

Noone was screaming. My sister took a couple of steps towards us, leaning against her partner. She gazed into her eyes.

"Grace!" she gasped. "I never thought, just because I said I missed ..."

Clumsily, she kissed Grace, forcing her to look away from me. I was grateful for that, because I thought I saw a spark of something dangerous in her eyes.

"A gigolo," my sister whispered as she finished, her cheeks red. She reached towards me, fingers clutching. "I want to see his face."

"No!" Grace said. "Probably better if we don't."

"Yes, mistress," my sister purred, and nuzzled against her neck.

Mistress? I wondered if I heard correctly. Was that because of the curse, or was that their actual relationship? I could easily imagine Grace in a dominatrix outfit, and now I could just as easily imagine my sister as she serviced her pale body with mouth and tongue.

"He's really big!" my sister whispered.

Grace's violence had torn the robe from my chest and crotch, exposing me. I tried, but it was too late to hide myself.

"Yes, he is, isn't he?" Grace said. "Just the way you like them, if I remember correctly."

"You do, mistress!"

"I wanted you to have something extra for your wedding night", Grace lied expertly. Reaching out to me, she snapped her fingers, startling me. "Come here."

I don't know what I was thinking, but my cock led me on, closer, until she grabbed me by the skin of my neck. She leaned closer, my sister took a step back, eyes wide as saucers in worship.

"Are you who I think you are?" she whispered in my ear.

I tried to deepen my voice. "No."

I was a man with panties over his face. She didn't believe me. And she raised her other hand close to me, so I could see her black nail polish inches from my eyes, just as wide as my sister's. The fingers round my neck squeezed my soft flesh.

"Yes you fucking are," she whispered, "and we are going to have a chat about all this, yes we fucking are. But if you ruin this for her right now I will rip your eyeballs out. Understand?"

She backed away from me to stand by my sister, holding her tight, whispering something, nodding at me.

My sister turned her blushing face away. "What are you?" she asked, like a schoolgirl in a wedding dress. The smell of her cunt rubbed against my nose and panting mouth.

Grace reminded me with one simple stare. "A gigolo!" I said.

"And what will you do?" asked my sister.

"I guess ..." I turned my eyes to Grace, who dragged her thumb across her neck. "Whatever you want?"

Grace gave me a nod.

My sister gasped. "Okay, because in that case I want to chug on your cock, feel it in my stomach, damn me to hell."

"Jesus!" Grace chuckled. "Remember, we got married today."

"I don't care. I want his cock. If ..." She turned a hesitant eye to her wife. "If that's fine?"

"That's what he's here for, my dear."

"Yippee," my sister said, dragging her wet tongue against her quivering lips, eyes on my cock. It hadn't turned its eye away from her. They seemed to speak to each other. And whatever they said made her come closer.

The wardrobe stopped me from moving away.

"Yippee," my sister said in a darker voice as she simply went down on her knees and swallowed me like a boiled sausage. Wet but tight she squeezed my entire length, almost painfully. I steadied myself against the creaking wardrobe, rocking it back and forth. She flicked the robe away from her face, irritated.

Grace moved up next to us, admiring her wife's drunken energy, and removed the robe completely from my body, leaving me stark naked in a cold room getting hotter by the minute. Stroking me across the chest she found my nipples. Lesbian, I reminded myself, but my god she made me wish I was a woman too, especially when she used her mouth on me, kissing me down my neck, sucking and softly biting down on one of my sensitive nipples. The spit felt cool as her mouth moved on. When my sister tried to get some air she forced her down on my cock again, making her cough and drool.

"You wanted to chug," she said to her. "Now chug on that nice, fat cock." She looked me deep in my eyes. "On your brother's cock," she whispered, breathing her sweet breath in my face.

Terrified I tried to look away, but she held me tight. If my sister heard anything I couldn't tell from the sputtering sound of my cock jabbing at the back of her throat. Grace was merciless, or full, I couldn't decide as she turned her loving gaze down at her wife, stroking her long hair with a strong hand. And when Grace finally let my sister come up for air it was obvious that she had never loved anybody as much as she loved this pale and domineering woman. Somehow, I could understand that, or maybe that was my nipples speaking.

"That's enough," Grace said, with a sharp tug on her wife's head. My cock slid from her puffy lips like some form of strange underwater creature. She still wanted it, her eyes and lips and tongue all screamed it, but Grace was the one in control. My sister begged with the tongue hanging out of her mouth like a dog.

Grace pressed her excited lips to my ear. "On the day of a sister's wedding she comes before her brother."

Leading us both to the bed she pressed my sister down on the flowery cover, and left me standing as she prepared her bride by dragging a pair of panties wet as a bucket of water down her legs. Blocking my face with her body she removed the day-old panties and replaced them with the new ones. The new and old excitement in them almost made me faint. She'd already filled them earlier today, drenched them under her white dress. After Grace had tied them at the back of my head to free my mouth she moved aside, admiring her handiwork. I could only see through one eye, but that wasn't her priority. The other was full of lace and cotton.

My sister's legs were hot against my cold hands as Grace forced me to crawl between them. She strangled her protests with soft kisses, and to make it better I breathed and rubbed my palms together, until they were as hot as she was. But they would never be as soft as the skin of her inner thighs, as easily scared as it trembled even before I kissed them. She dragged the dress up to see me down there. Grace helped her lift her head up as I kissed my way to her pink lips, wetting myself with her smell, feeling my tongue and lips almost like a part of her.

She screamed, both from pleasure and frustration, because it was clear that this also was some kind of sweet torture between the two. They had done this before, with another face than mine between her legs. I saw something in my sister's eyes then, how she knew she was above me and loved it, that paradoxically the subservient in the relationship had the real power. Grace looked at her pleasure. She loved giving it to her. I guess that in the land of the sinners, the innocent is queen, and I continued to lap and worship at her altar.

Eventually my sister buckled and trashed with her hands. She hit me once, hard, but I licked her until her screams died. Then I kept going, because I was too frightened of Grace to do anything else. I barely even looked at them anymore. I was too focused, hooked to the sweet taste. Everybody had tasted my cum today, in the stomach or in the womb, but now it was my turn.

Suddenly my sister went quiet, and I stopped what I was doing to look up, only to see Grace sitting on her face, riding it with tightly controlled motions. She had her sculptured back to me, completely undressed. The clothes lay as the cast-off skin of a snake. Her fingernails left scratches in the wallpaper above the bed. My sister gave her pleasure, like I was giving her pleasure. I was afraid that she would choke to death, but it wasn't my place to say anything. After all, I was just a gigolo. I wondered if I was going to get paid. Not likely, I decided.

Grace was quiet when she came. I never would have noticed if she hadn't slammed her palms against the wall. Afterwards she shuffled down to my sister's belly, her buttocks right in front of my wide-open eyes, and hunched over she kissed her. Meanwhile my sister recovered from her exhaustion and what seemed like a second orgasm. She'd screamed once from underneath.

Cuddling next to each other, I felt Grace's naked feet stroke my sopping hair. They tittered together.

"Switcheroo," Grace said.

Even though I didn't have a clue what she was talking about my sister moved instantly, presenting herself on all fours, her white-framed ass in front of my still gaping mouth.

Grace positioned herself where my sister had laid earlier, and without another word she leaned her head back and had her willing slave lick her pussy. It had a small covering of coal-black hair.

Wanting more I kissed my sister's brown asshole, pressing my tongue inside. But a kick from Grace stopped me. I jumped to my feet.

"Fuck her," she said to me. "Fuck the bitch."

I was standing before them, my cock pointing right at my sister's shining lips. It was all I could do not to force myself into her all at once. But they didn't like it. My sister begged with her mouth full, and Grace tore me with the full contempt of her face.

"Fuck her," she repeated. "And don't stop until you fill this entire whore full of your seed."

Whispering, she stroked my sister's face, lovingly in spite of her words.

This time I didn't stop myself. I penetrated my sister's hot pussy like an animal in heat, only confident that I wouldn't come immediately because of the curse. And if I came, I could just do it again.

I wondered if I was doing something wrong, but shook my head. It was all the curse's fault. I had no choice. In fact, I was the real victim here, something I tried to keep in mind as a wide grin split my face in two. Grace saw me beneath hooded eyes, like she recognized an equal.

In the future, I had to be nicer to her.

Fucking my sister, harder for every thrust, I rammed her face into Grace's cunt. It couldn't have been that nice, but she closed her eyes anyway, slamming her fists against the crumpled bed cover. Then she grabbed my sister's head to guide her properly, forcing her mouth to her clit, even up her ass. The pussy around my cock tightened as she reached a third orgasm. She nearly forced me out, but just barely, and the increased pressure made me realize that I couldn't keep this up for very much longer.

"Switcheroo!" I gasped, and I think Grace patted her on the side of the head because my sister flipped over, her mouth open like a well, as I flung her legs over my shoulders. I just wanted to see her face. She was so fucking content, I loved it.

Grace, glancing at me gratefully, used her sharp nails to rip apart my sister's bodice, exposing her small but perfectly formed breasts, letting them breathe in the air for a moment before she took them in her mouth, one after the other, mauling them, leaving bitemarks in the soft skin. One long hand started to stroke the clit above my thumping cock, faster and faster.

"Thank you!" my sister gasped. "Oh, my god, thank you so much. I love you. I always want to be with you."

She stopped, mouth open in what must have been something extra, because she went completely quiet. She spurted around my cock, making it easier to fuck her harder without coming too close.

"I love you too," Grace said, flicking a loose strand of hair off her face. She continued her work to free my sister from her wedding dress, one seam and one button at a time, and just like that my sister lay naked on the bed in front of me, red from where the stiff, white dress had confined her. Finally free, she didn't have any power to move around my cock. They both waited for what soon happened as I filled her sopping pussy with white-hot strands of cum. Her convulsions pressed them out of her as soon as I filled her again.

I slid out of her and fell on the floor, ready to pull her panties off my face before I recovered myself. From up above I heard them kissing each other, whispering words that were for them alone. My part was done, I knew as my cock silently died, still covered in glistening juices.

Grace looked down at me. "I trust that the payment is enough?" she asked.

"Yes, mistress," I said.

She stroked my sister's hair, seemingly in deep thoughts. My sister seemed asleep. "We'll see," she finally said, and with that she nodded at the door, not caring whether I lived or died in torment as long as I didn't stay here any longer. I gathered up my ruined pile of clothes, put the robe and the slippers back on. Then I was standing in the corridor, wondering what to do. It was the day of my sister's wedding, and it was all over.

Knowing that I couldn't remain here I walked down the hallway. I only saw a couple of wedding guests, and even though they didn't seem to recognize me I got the funniest stares. But I stopped wondering when I passed a full-length mirror. My hair was crazy, and, of course, my sister's panties were still stretched across my face. Putting them in my pocket I walked on, not really secure. I heard the tapping of hard shoes in the corridor in front of me, afraid of the curse. But if I was seen by the same people again, this time without panties on my face, they would really start to wonder. Maybe my sister would find out somehow. I couldn't have that.