The Beach House Ch. 02

She grunted softly. 'It feels tight, doesn't it? I think you've got bigger.'

He chuckled. 'I doubt it. My hand has just about worn it away. It must be that you've got tighter.'

Sarah laughed softly. 'Maybe I was healing over.'

'It's a good job I was here to help you open it, then.'

'Yes, yes,' she murmured. 'You're opening it.'

They lapsed into silence for a while, each of them enjoying the sensation of fucking. Sarah felt the prickle of his unshaven cheek against hers, contrasting to the silky smooth feeling of his shaft sliding back and forth within her. His mouth was close to her ear and she could hear the soft panting of his breath, and beneath her fingers she felt the rubbery texture of the muscles in his back, flexing with each stroke. She lifted her legs higher and locked her ankles above him, the mattress squeaking as the angle of his thrusts altered.

'I think my pussy is squeaking,' she said, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. 'Do you have anything to help, Mr. Ryan?'

'I do, I do, Miss Ryan. I'll deliver some lubricating salve in a few minutes.'

'Only good quality, mind...and lots of it.'

'Right.' The notion that he was to cum in his sister again was exhilarating. He remembered the first time he had done it, as the storm raged outside and the firelight flickered in the corners of the little kitchen. Their bed had been an oil-stained blanket on a mattress of cardboard boxes and it had been amazing. By dawn he had emptied into her four times, his cream oozing from the swollen lips of her vulva like an overfilled eclair. That was the night he had impregnated her, when it had all started. Did she want that again?

'I'm on the pill,' she whispered, as if reading his mind. 'I want you to cum into me. I want to feel you spurting.'

Her words triggered the seeds of his orgasm: the tingling at the base of his spine, the heightened sensitivity of his cock as it slid back and forth within her, the tightness of his breath as the bubble began to grow.

'I will, I will,' he gasped, 'but not yet. It's too soon.'

'Then come out. Let's make it last.'

Michael withdrew his shaft, watching as it left his sister's body. It was bathed in her juice, gleaming in the pale morning light and a strand of silver connected them for an instant. Behind it her lips gaped open, furled back to reveal the shell-pink flesh inside. He slithered down and placed his mouth over it, his tongue flickering at the little seed at its entrance.

'Ah, gently!' her hands fled to his head to clasp it. 'Go gently, my love.'

'Sorry.' He withdrew his mouth for a few moments and regarded the prize before him. 'Tell me what you like.'

'Use the tip of your tongue. Not on my clit...lower - ah, that's it, yes, just there -' Sarah's voice was husky with pleasure. 'Just the tip...up, through the furrow. Now - curl it in.' Her hands fluttered on his head. 'Yes, like that - now again...that's it.' She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation and her voice guided him. 'Now, a little deeper...yes, yes. Press it in as you lick...scoop up my juice. Ah, God, that's perfect!' Her hands fluttered on his head as the waves of pleasure grew. 'Now, with the flat of your tongue...ugh, yes...harder.'

Her legs were waving wildly and she grasped the back of her knees to steady them, pulling them up towards her chest to give greater access. She could feel him lapping - long strokes from the puckered rim of her anus to the soft down of her triangle, and with each stroke his tongue dipped to her centre in perfect cadence. She could hear the snuffling of his mouth as he devoured her, feel the stubble on his cheeks rough against the soft white flesh of her thighs. She envisaged her cunt to be a river, pouring juice from its trembling lips to fill his mouth; and she imagined him drinking it, gulping down the creamy liquid like the finest liqueur. The image brought a sudden surge of lust and she clasped his head to pull him tighter against her.

'That's it...that's it,' she gasped. His tongue was flickering around her clitoris, bringing sharp little spasms of pleasure. 'Just there, Mike...softer - just there.'

Michael heard her voice from a thousand miles away. In the long, lonely nights of the past few months he had tried to remember every detail of the first time he had taken her, but the memory was disjointed: a series of flickering images like a fractured jigsaw. But now his senses were filled by her taste and texture, flooding his palate and filling his brain. He could smell the odour of her skin juxtaposed with the salty tang of her sex, and its warm, oily texture delighted him. Her juice oozed from the soft wet flesh under his lips and he devoured it like a kitten lapping cream, and with every stroke his face rubbed against her: his nose and cheeks and mouth drenched in her essence.

He lifted his face from between her thighs and regarded her, seeing the brightness of lust in her eyes.

'Tell me -' he whispered. 'Tell me what you want. I'll do anything.'

'From the back,' she gasped. 'Eat me...from the back.'

Michael watched his sister scramble to her knees before pressing her face to the rumpled sheets to thrust her bottom upwards. She grasped her cheeks and drew them apart to give him greater access, and he plunged his face between the mounds of perfumed flesh. From this angle his tongue slid into her easily and his senses were suddenly assailed by a sharper taste, as if her inner juice was more pungent than that which he had been eating.

'God, Michael...fuck, fuck...you've no idea how lovely that is.' Her voice was broken, splintered by the waves of pleasure that surged through her. She felt wanton, like a cheap tart offering the most secret places of her body, and the thought was intoxicating. It was as if a dam had broken and the constraints of the past had been swept away by an irrepressible need to be utterly and completely possessed.

'Lick me,' she demanded. 'All of me...lick it...taste it, eat it. It's yours, Michael. Do what you want.'

Michael drew his mouth over the full length of his sister's crotch, delighting in the different textures under his lips: the sucking embrace of her vulva; the firmer bridge of her perineum and then the crinkled roughness of her anus. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined she would submit to this, and he understood that she was utterly his to take.

'Do you want me to fuck you again?' he said, his voice was thick with passion.

'God yes...put it in.' She thrust her bottom higher, the posture thrusting her sex further out. 'Put it in.'

'Say it! Tell me you want to be fucked.'

'I want to be fucked.' Her voice was pleading.

'Tell me you want to be fucked by me.'

'Shit, Michael...yes...I want you to fuck me! Come on, fuck your baby sister. Put it inside me.'

Michael laughed. 'Not yet, Sis. I want to play some more first.' He bent forward again and placed his mouth over the tiny eye of her ass, and he strummed the tip of tongue against it.

Sometimes, in the lonely hours of the night, Sarah's hands had stolen downwards to fondle the soft folds of her sex, delighting in the gratification it brought. But it was nothing to the crashing waves of pleasure that surged through her body with the touch of her brother's tongue. It was fluttering over the rim of her anus as lightly as a butterfly, ratcheting up the level of her excitement until the breath caught in her throat; and it dabbed at the twitching centre as if seeking entry to that secret place.

But it was not just the intensity of the feelings that excited her: it was the sheer fucking wrongness of it. That reflection in the wardrobe mirror couldn't be her, could it? Not the girl crouching on the bed like a little bitch in heat with her arse in the air and her brother's face buried between its cheeks. Not the one grunting like a primeval little slut with every delicious stroke of his tongue; nor the one desperate to be fucked in every orifice until she had drawn every last shred of cum from his twitching balls. Surely it must be some other girl?

But it was her, she knew, and the thought terrified and exhilarated her. This was the new me, she thought. The one whose inhibitions have been swept away forever. I'm the one in the mirror, and I can't wait a second longer to feel him inside me again. She rolled on her back and stared up at Michael with hungry eyes. 'Fuck me,' she demanded.

Later, when they finally collapsed on the bed next to one another, she was surprised to see it was nearly nine o'clock. They had been fucking for over an hour, and yet she could only remember scattered details of it: the long, slow strokes as sweet as warm honey; the fast ones, battering down into her like a jackhammer. The taste of her cunt on his mouth, the girth of his cock jammed in her throat. She recalled her first tiny orgasm, as thin as a razor; and the longer ones that swept her to the edge of the stratosphere and held her there, breath pounding, heart beating so fast she thought it might burst. She remembered too the pain when he entered her rectum, and how it diminished as she relaxed, and the incredible feeling of fullness as he took her there; and she recalled holding him, cradling his head in her arms as he emptied into her for the final time.

And now he was lying next to her, his eyes closed as the sweat dried on his skin and his hand in hers, and she was filled by a sense of deep contentment.

At length she released his hand and swung her legs over the bed to stand.

'Where are you going?' he asked, his eyes still shut.

'If I don't go to the loo I'll wet the bed.'

'Right.'

'And some paper to wipe myself. You're leaking out of me.'

'Really?' he raised himself on an elbow and observed his sister with interest. 'Let me see.'

'You're a pervert.' She turned to show him. 'Look - there. Dribbling down my thigh.'

Michael laughed. 'Doesn't look like much, considering how much I put up there.'

'That's not where it's coming from.'

'Ah!' he sank back on the bed, smiling. 'I'd forgotten about that bit. Nice, wasn't it?'

'Nice for you, maybe. I feel like I've had a baseball bat up there.'

'Well you did, figuratively speaking.' He glanced at her face. 'I didn't hurt you, did I?'

'Not much,' smiling at his concern. 'Just the first bit. It was nice, though...once I got used to it.'

Michael lay on the bed and listened as his sister clattered in the kitchen. Last night he had been filled with doubts about whether she would ever want him again. Now, he was concerned about how they might stay together in a world that would never condone such a union.

He turned as she entered the room bearing a tray, naked except for a small apron tied around her waist.

'Aren't you worried about that hot teapot?' Her breasts were wobbling dangerously close to the spout.

'In the last hour or two I've discovered things that size can do very little damage.'

'Ha, ha.' He observed her appreciatively. The lovemaking had brought a little colour into her cheeks and her lips were still swollen from their kisses, giving her a more voluptuous look. 'Are you still leaking?'

'A bit.' She set the tray down on the side table and sat beside him. 'I quite like it, actually. It's sort of - well, rude.'

'When you dry out I'll be happy to top you up again.'

'I bet you would.' She reached over and brushed the comma of hair from his forehead. 'When I was in the kitchen I was thinking.'

'Go on.'

'I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but not here.'

He glanced around the room. 'Why not?'

She smiled. 'Much as I'd like to live on love alone, we have to find work.'

'I can work on the mainland.'

'There hasn't been any work around Thruxton for the last year or so, Mike, and there probably isn't still - and even if you did find some I can't sit here every day with nothing to do, waiting for you to come back in a little boat. We've both seen what a storm can do on the Bay.'

'We go back to Mum's then - at least until we find something.'

'You really want to do that?' Sarah remembered her mother's rage each night, the tears and recriminations, the bitter words as sharp as a butcher's blade. Things had been said that could never be fixed, and it would only get worse. 'She'd never put up with us, especially if she thought we were still -' she left the last word hanging. 'And anyway, we can't live where people know us as brother and sister.'

Michael nodded. Sarah was right - there was nothing for them in Thruxton, or even Thirlmere for that matter. Better they move on.

'I was thinking London,' she continued, 'we know a couple of people there but it's a big -'

'How about Australia?' he interrupted.

'Christ! Really?'

Michael laughed at his expression. 'Why not? If we have to move somewhere different, it may as well be there. And at least the weather is good.'

'But we don't know a soul in Australia.'

'That's the idea. Everyone would think Mr. Michael and Mrs. Sarah Ryan were a young married couple making a new start.'

'But their Immigration people would know we were siblings.'

He nodded. 'Sure, but the rest of the country wouldn't. We could set up home somewhere and live as a couple. Nobody would ever know, and from what I hear of the Aussies they wouldn't care much even if they did.'

'And how do we pay to get there?'

'I have some money put aside, and I can sell my car. It's not much, but it will be enough to get started, and I can work anywhere as a carpenter.'

Sarah looked around the room: so much of their time and effort had gone into this place and it had a special meaning to both of them, but ultimately it was just a house. The most important thing in her life was lying next to her, watching eagerly to see if she would agree. He was like a puppy, all keen to set off to the other side of the world and start again. To him what was done was done and only the future mattered, which was so unlike herself.

She would miss the Beach House, though. It had been derelict when she first saw it and now it was a warm and cosy home. Perhaps her mother might let it out as a little holiday cottage, but she doubted it. She was three quarters on the way to madness, and even her long-suffering husband was on the brink of leaving her.

'It's a pity we can't take all this with us,' she said, gesturing with her arm. 'I can just imagine it overlooking some tropical beach down under.'

'So you agree?' Michael asked. 'We go to Australia? As soon as we can?'

Sarah nodded. 'Of course. I go where you go,' and she leaned forward and kissed him.

*****

© Hot_Sister

Not to be reproduced in whole or in part without the express permission of the author.

May 2016