Sister in Heat Ch. 05

"I..." I said. This was not good.

"It's a little tight," she admitted, turning around and wiggling her butt at me. The floofy white ribbon on the back, whatever it's called, ruffled provocatively. "But do you think Brodie will like it?"

"I think his wife's going to have a heart attack."

"Oh good!" she said, clapping her hands together. "That's one less plate to make. Here, now you take this." She shoved a bag into my arms and clacked past me into the apartment. "Man, your place is clean," she said. She inspected the kitchen, checking the drawers for her tools, scoped out every cupboard, and then put her hands on her hips and nodded, the little cap falling over her eyes. "Yep, I can work with this. Bring me my things, slave."

Grumbling, I started to cart in the bags. "You're the one dressed like a..." She ignored me and emptied each bag onto the counter, organizing the ingredients into orderly rows.

"Dressed to impress," she said. "And you should do the same. Go find something in your smarty pants closet and get business casual. And stay out of my kitchen if you know what's good for you."

I brought in the last of the bags and frowned. Despite the outrageous outfit, she was all business, and I watched her methodically begin to cut and separate and set pots to boil. I was relieved. Maybe she was taking this seriously.

Twenty minutes later, she dropped the first pan, startling me from my closet and bringing me back into the kitchen. Thankfully, it was empty of food, but she was standing over the pan as if it had tried to bite her. "What happened?" I said.

"Oh, I just seemed to have dropped it," she said. "Clumsy me." She bent over to get it, and as she did so the skirt rode up her curvaceous ass, exposing her completely. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. My sister's supple, pink pussy lips gleamed under the kitchen lights.

I swallowed hard.

Crouched on the floor, Monica looked at me innocently, pan in hand. "Something the matter, Johnny?"

I would not rise to the bait. "N...no."

She bit her lip, coyly putting her finger to her chin. "You look sick."

"'m'not," I said.

She smiled. "Well good. You get back in there and you get yourself dolled up real nice, my big bad business man."

Grumbling, I stalked back to my room and tried to find a tie.

Fifteen minutes later, she dropped the pan again.

I ran out. Once again, nothing was in the pan. Onions and chives were chopped up on the chopping board, various pots were boiling on the stove, and something delicious was already heating up in the oven; everything was perfect, but that damn pan...

"I'm so clumsy," she murmured to herself. And she bent over, again. Her ass - perched on the tops of her thigh-hugging stockings - taunted me, again.

"Please stop doing that," I said.

"Something wrong?" she said to me over her shoulder. She was still bent over.

"No..." I grunted, and turned back to my room. I had barely crossed the threshold when the pan clanged to the floor again. "Okay, that's it!" I growled.

My sister cowered before me as I stalked over to her and grabbed her wrist. "I'm sorry, big brother. The pan's just so slippery!" I all but threw her against the counter, flipped her skirt up over her ass and spanked her with all my might. "Oh, Johnny! That hurts!" I spanked her again, and again, watching her ass turn red and loving the way the springy flesh recoiled from every blow. The tight muscles in her thighs jiggled. "Oh!" she moaned. "Please don't! I'll be better! I promise, master!"

One last crack. My hand left her ass. I watched the puckered lips between her thighs and thought, it would be so easy. My dick hardened in my pants. I growled, and took my hand off her shoulder. "Just stop," I said.

My sister demurely swept her skirt back over her ass, stood to her full height, and meekly adjusted her cap. "Yes, sir..." she said, averting her eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, she dropped the fucking pan again.

This time I bent my sister over the couch and spanked her until she buried her face in the pillows to scream. Then I squeezed each cheek, rolling them in my tight fingers while she moaned for me to stop. "Please, master!" she cried into the pillow. "I'll be good! Just don't spank me again. Oh, please, please!"

"You dirty little slut," I said. "Your master's going to punish you!"

"Please, no!" she moaned, shaking her blonde head into the pillow. "We don't have much time, master! Don't make me do it."

"I'll show you what happens to naughty maids who drop their pans!"

It was ridiculous, it was stupid, but I was going to take her right then and there and damn the consequences. I was pushing against her ass with my crotch, my cock hard and rising behind my slacks, ready to defile my sister, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

I sprang from my sister's ass and she fell off the armrest with an "oof!" Then she picked herself up and clattered into the kitchen, pulling her tight skirt over her bouncing buttocks as she fled. I coughed, straightened my tie, and tried to will away my erection. "Hello?" I said as I opened the door.

"HEEEYYYY!" Brodie shouted from the other side. His wife, Elaine, nodded at me politely and another man, bespectacled, said "Hello" in turn.

"Uh," I said as Brodie threw his arms around my shoulders. "You're- You're all early? I-" I checked the clock.

"Yeah, well, I got tired of waiting," said Brodie, loosening his already rumpled tie and ushering his wife inside. "John, you've met Elaine."

"How do you do?" I said, taking her hand.

"My, how formal," she said.

"And this is Melvin, the accountant," said Brodie. Brodie pushed the guy ahead of him and the man gave a cough of protest.

"I'm the Financial Director," he said to me as we shook hands.

"Uh," I said.

"Accountant, he's an accountant," said Brodie. By the look of him, Brodie was about three beers or three glasses of wine ahead of me. The red flush in Melvin's cheeks suggested he wasn't far behind Brodie. "So what're we eating?"

"Uh," I said.

"We're starting off with some stuffed mushrooms," said Monica, carrying the tray deftly from the kitchen to the dining table. While we'd been talking, she'd already poured four glasses of wine and set the napkins and utensils down.

"Ho-ly shit," said Brodie. "Is that little Monica? Monica, what the hell're you dressed like that for?"

Monica preened in front of him as she offered him his glass of wine and let him kiss her cheeks. "I thought a special occasion occasioned special accoutrement," she said sweetly.

"You're god damn right you do," he said. "Speaking French and everything..." Brodie shut his gaping mouth as his wife swept around the table to take her glass. "So, uh, what are these things, er, stuffed with?"

Monica gave a theatrical sweep of her hands. "Oh, just a little something I threw together. Pecorino Romano, garlic, parsley, bread crumbs and some fresh mint. Enjoy."

She swept back into the kitchen, Melvin and Brodie watching her every airy step.

Melvin bit into one of the mushrooms. "This is fantastic," he said.

"Yes, they're quite good," said Elaine.

"Uh," I said.

"Sit down, Johnny," said Monica. "I'm just fine in here."

"You, uh, need any help?" asked Brodie.

She wiggled her nose at him. "Tush, tush, Brodie. Stay out of my kitchen."

"Yes, ma'am." He swung back around to me and mouthed "OH MY GOD" as best he could while his wife checked her cellphone.

"Terribly sorry to put you at this inconvenience," said Melvin. "Mr. Thompson had quite a night planned but Brodie was insistent that we-"

Brodie had just about drained his glass of wine already when he pulled it from his lips. "Aw, put a sock in it, Mel. I wanted to see my old buddy here. He doesn't mind, do ya, John?"

"Uh," I said.

Brodie swung his glass towards me, nearly spilling the rest of his wine over the table. "See that? A real friend right there."

The rest of the night was a blur. Monica brought forth more appetizers, which Melvin and Brodie wolfed down and Elaine took small, polite bites out of. All three of them were equally eager to drink, though I think for very different reasons. Elaine seemed perpetually mortified, Melvin sounded like he was on the verge of losing his job, and Brodie, well, Brodie just liked to drink.

I had two glasses of wine that night, drawn out over many, many hours. The others drained three or four bottles between them (and kudos to Monica for even thinking to buy that many). There was some talk of business, but mostly it was Brodie bullshitting and me doing my best to appease him.

And Monica. Even in an outfit like that, Monica was the height of class, joking with Brodie, putting Melvin at ease, commiserating with Elaine. And every now and then she'd look up from the stove and give me a warm, knowing smirk. She put everything together. She was absolutely incredible. I was so hard I could barely stand it. Indeed, if asked, I would not have been able to stand.

This must have been clear to Monica, and I would have been surprised if this was not part of her plan too, because in addition to refilling everyone's glasses like clockwork, I noticed she had somehow, either before or after the guests' arrival, hidden away any extra chairs in the apartment. This meant that, between carrying the food from the kitchen to the table, or pouring the wine, she spent her time sitting in my lap. I'm sure this would have seemed more peculiar to Brodie or Elaine or Melvin, but by the time she mentioned that there weren't any chairs left, both the men were red in the face and liable to laugh at any remark - no matter how comedic it actually was. When she said, "You boys took all the chairs," they laughed, and when she said, "I guess I'll just have to make myself a seat," they laughed, and when she rolled her eyes and plopped herself down in my lap, they laughed.

And while they laughed, she rolled herself right up against my erection.

By that point she'd gotten me so hard that I almost moaned aloud when her fingers surreptitiously reached down to undo my fly. I let her unzip me without protest and tried my damnedest to continue my conversation with Brodie - even as Monica giggled and peeled my boxers open with her deft little fingers. Melvin was squinting into his drink, Elaine was on her phone, and Brodie was guffawing like a donkey as my sister lovingly squeezed my cock just below their eyelines. Then, rearranging herself so that the back of her skirt rode up her ass, she guided me along her naked crack. She was soft. She was heaven.

We grunted in unison as she took me into her tight, wet body, and I had to bite my knuckle to keep from crying out. My cockhead squeezed past her lips and she sealed over me like a glove. Christ, she felt so fucking good.

"Alright, John?" Brodie, drunk as he was, noticed me trying to fit my whole fist into my mouth.

"Hmm? Mm-hmm. Yep. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yes, Brodie. I was just thinking about what you-"

Monica pretended to cough and bounced in my lap. My cock pulsated inside of her.

"Oh Jesus!" I exclaimed. "You- what you said, Bro."

That non-answer was still good enough for Brodie, who nodded and continued to drone on. Monica flashed me a wicked grin over her shoulder and continued to grind down into my lap, rolling her hips against mine.

"I'm going to kill you," I whispered into her ear.

"You love it," she whispered back. She dug her fingers into my thighs and gently bobbed her ass up and down. I had to fight every urge to stand up and bend her over my dinner plate.

"You're a bad little girl," I said.

"So bad," she agreed.

I wanted to spread her legs apart and pull her skirt up over her waist, play with her clit and let her juices dribble down my pants. But I had guests to entertain. "Uhm. Brodie, so you, you had a chance to look over the plans for the - gurk - the Pinehurst Lobby."

"Uhhhh." Brodie searched the recesses of his intoxicated brain. "Yes," he said. "They're pretty good. I signed off on them before I left on Monday."

"You did?" I said, sitting up in my chair. This time it was Monica's turn to make a funny noise. She steadied herself on the table's edge.

"Oooh!" she moaned as my cock drove up against her G spot. "Th-that's good!" she covered. "That's sooo good, isn't it, Johnny?"

I had no idea the plans had already been approved. "Are you sure?" I said. "I thought we were meeting tonight to - ffff - finalize the- the, uh-" With her hands on the table, Monica was using her leverage to squeeze me back and forth inside her. I felt the muscles in her thighs tightening.

"Oh sure, sure," Brodie waved his hand, "but it's a formality. I've got consultants who do all this stuff for me and they always say you're the best. I signed that shit right away. While I'm thinking about it, though, could we put the fountain nearer to the door?"

"I like fountains," said Monica. "I love it when they gush everywhere."

"Very funny," I said, reaching down to pin her to my lap. I needed to concentrate just now and squeezing Moni's clit between my thumb and forefinger was a good way to get her to sit still. She bit her lip and tried not to cross her legs as I massaged it under the table. "Well, Brodie, uh - mmm - if we moved it closer to the doors then we couldn't put in that interactive light display that shows the company's logo. Hgk!"

"Oh right!" said Brodie. He nudged Melvin beside him. "See? He knows what the fuck he's talking about. You forgot about the light thing."

Melvin, his forehead slick, just nodded and had another gulp of wine. "Quite, quite."

"He always knows what the fuck he's doing, doesn't he?" Moni said to me.

"Moni, could we get another refill over here?" Brodie asked.

Monica whipped her hair back to face him and, in a move that was so deft it was almost magical, slid off my cock and slid her dress back down her thighs in one movement. She smiled and clacked around the table, taking his drink and patting his shoulder. "No problem, Mr. Nash."

Brodie chuckled. "See, honey?" he said to Elaine. "That's service with a smile."

Elaine just rolled her eyes. "Better top me off too, Monica. We're taking an uber tonight."

"Coming right up," said Monica cheerfully. She filled Brodie's glass, set it down by his hand, and then refilled Elaine's. When she returned to the kitchen, everyone's eyes were on the table or facing my direction, so no one saw her stick out her tongue and pull her top down to flash me.

Under the table, my exposed cock bobbed with appreciation.

Melvin tried to get into the specifics of the contracting, but no one seemed too interested in that. Brodie was already talking about their next building when Monica returned to the table and sat cross-wise in my lap. My cock slapped against her stocking and she reached down to stroke it. Slowly. Squeezing her way up to the head.

I didn't know how much more of that I could take, but I didn't have to find out. After only another few minutes, Elaine announced that it was high time they all went home. As they arose, Monica deftly transferred a dinner napkin from the table to my lap, dropping it over me as she stood up so that I could (try to) fit my cock back into my pants while she cleared the dishes and played visual interference.

Somehow I managed to get everything tucked away in time to accompany them to the living room. I hoped they just ignored the wet spot around my lap where Moni had squirmed. We said our goodbyes, everyone commenting on how it was so much later than they thought and that Monica was a remarkable cook.

"She sure is," said Brodie as he brought me in for a half-hug. "Your sister looks amazing," he said into my ear. "Is she seeing anyone right now?"

"I'll have to ask her," I said. "But I know you are."

He grinned as he pulled away and we shook hands. "Well, there's married, and then there's married."

"Absolutely," I said (having no idea what was the right response to that).

"Bye, Moni!" he said, leaning into the doorway to leer at her one last time.

Monica, balanced against the kitchen counter, raised her glass and blew him a kiss. "Bye, Brodie," she chirped.

"Great dinner," he said to me before wincing at the sound of Elaine's voice calling him downstairs. "Comin'! Comin'!" I probably should have helped him down the steps, but he managed to make it most of the way before he fell. "'m'alright!" he yelled up as I shut the door behind me.

A long, low sigh of relief squeezed out of me as I backed against the wall. I loosened my tie. I took a deep breath.

Across the room, Monica set down her drink. "Are you going to yell at me?" she said. Slowly, carefully, she swayed towareds me in her heels.

"No," I said, draping the tie over the back of the chair. "I'm just going to fuck you."

When we reached the dinner table, my sister jumped into my arms. Her strong legs wrapped around me as she bit my lips, and I pulled her skirt up over her waist as I slammed her down on the dinner table. "So do it, big brother," she demanded, her hands fumbling with my belt. "I'm calling in that favor you owe me-"

Then my cock was free and it was sliding into her naked softness. Her scream pierced the air of the apartment. "Oh God, I missed that big thing inside me," she gasped. Our hips slammed together as she forced me in deeper and we found our furious rhythm. "Was I a good little housewife?" she purred.

"So good," I said. I popped open her blouse to play with her magnificent tits. I suckled at one, then the other. I missed those pink nipples; I missed the way they tasted.

"Nobody fucks like you, Johnny," she moaned. She was tight and pliant, eager and savage. One of her heels clattered to the floor as she tried to lock her ankles behind me.

"Nobody drives me crazy like you do," I gasped. She made a noise like a wild animal, and I buried myself inside her. It seemed no matter how hard or how many times I thrust, I would not cum, though every fiber of my body was desperate to flood her womb with my sperm. We went on like that for what could have been minutes or hours, our bodies driven by a desire so fierce it seemed there wasn't a force on Earth that could tear us apart. Neither of us heard the door open or shut, but we both came to when we heard a voice gently cough.

My head whipped across my shoulder as if I'd been caught by a fishing hook. Stephanie stood by the door, her hands folded under her breasts, her purse dangling from her shoulder. Her mouth, pressed into a thin line, twitched into the tightest of smiles when she waved at me. "Ahem," she said again. "Hi."

* * *

I won't get into the sticky details of Moni hopping off the table, me trying to rearrange my clothes into something resembling civility (Monica had torn the shoulders out). The girls didn't say much to each other; Monica went to the bathroom, Stephanie slipped out of her heels and set her purse on the coffee table.

She waited for me to stand by her, near the doorway to our bedroom.

"I'm sorry," I said lamely.

She raised her eyebrows. "You sure? That looked like a lot of fun."

I opened my mouth. I closed my mouth.

Stephanie frowned. "Is that Monica?"

There was no hiding it. "Yeah." I wiped my mouth, realizing her lipstick was all over it.

"You guys are still blood-related, right?"

"Yeah," I said, after a pause.

She crossed her arms again, for the first time looking upset. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Despite the intensity of the situation, or perhaps because of it, I laughed. It was a dark, small, mess of a laugh. "Oh, well," I said. "It's probably because she's my sister." Stephane almost smiled.

"How long?" she said.

I shook my head. "Steph, what does it matter?"

"No, I mean, how long have you been sleeping together? I should probably say fucking. That was definitely fucking you were doing."