Virus Pt. 05: Doping to Win Tennis

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Two hours later, in the practice tennis court in their back garden, against an automated ball machine, Yulia played the best game of tennis in her life.

And that night, for the first time in days, Simon went to bed without the sounds of vibration coming from his parent's room.

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The next day was the tennis tournament. One day event, 16 players in a knockout format. Yulia and Simon both got up early to arrive at the club before 8am. Nothing was said at the breakfast table of the night before, but the kiss Yulia planted on Simon's cheek said that she was grateful for Simon's help.

The first two knockout round were very simple. Any ladies suffering from withdrawal were obvious, and crashed out extremely quickly. Yulia won both her games in record time, her son and oldest daughter waving encouragingly from the crowds.

Her third game after lunch was much more difficult. She wasn't a local woman, and Yulia had never faced off against her before. She was good. As good as Yulia. Maybe better. Yulia got lucky and won the first set of three. The woman took the second set quickly. As they took a quick break before the final set, Yulia sat, looking down at her tired hands. They were shaking.

'It must be tiredness!' She said to herself. 'I've been playing for hours!'

But she knew exactly what was wrong. The virus. Already her body was again craving the lifesaving antibodies found only in the cum of an infected man.

She had no choice. She played on.

At first it looked like Yulia would lose, falling quickly behind in points. But Yulia's despair turned to joy watching her opponent grabbing a quick drink of water. Her hands were shaking too!

Now it was just a war of attrition. And Yulia was Russian. She was born for wars of attrition.

Almost an hour later, and Yulia was set to play in the final.

She called Simon into an empty changing room at the clubhouse.

"Simon, we haven't much time." She whispered as he opened the door. It wasn't unusual for players to have coaches or family visit during a tournament. He'd been briefly checked for drugs or other items before being let in, but now they were alone.

"I know. About 10mins. Mum, what's wrong? What do you need?"

She felt ashamed, but she knew exactly what she needed.

"I need a quickie. You've got to cum inside me now. I've already got the shakes."

Simon was taken aback. "What about your opponent? Won't she have the shakes too?"

Yulia shook her head, while undoing the buttons on her skirt. He hadn't said yes, but she hoped the sight of her waiting pussy would change his mind. "I'm playing Sharon Wallace in the final. She's a lesbian. She won't have the virus. Come-on Simon, you've got to help me!"

Simon looked at his desperate mother, her skirt already by her ankles.

"OK."

They moved to the wall furthest away from the door. If someone walked in, at least they'd have a couple of seconds to disengage and pretend they weren't having incestuous sex. Yulia bent over, leaning against the wall. The smell of changing room socks filled her nose. She felt Simon standing behind her, his belt clinking on the floor between his legs as he move round to find a position. She felt the push of pressure as his rapidly inflating cock searched for an entrance, then the wondrous, surprising, engulfing feeling of being entered. She felt him building up a fast pace, pushing hard into her flesh. It was a painful pleasure, reminding her of teenage fumbles in the woods of Russia thirty years ago.

Since first discovering girls, Simon had known one thing about sex. Last as long as you possibly can. Do everything you can not to cum. Yet here he was, fucking a beautiful Russian woman, being told to shoot his load as quickly as possible. Two years ago, and it would have already been over. But here he was, and all he could do was try thrusting as hard as he could in desperate hope. His mind was desperately thinking about the sexiest memories he had. He thought about Anastasia, the taste of her pussy on his face yesterday. He thought about his mother riding his cock, her boobs bouncing up and down while she smiled sweetly at her son.

He thought about Emma. Her tight pussy. The way she'd laid the first time he'd fucked her. The way she moaned when she orgasmed. The way it felt to cum inside her, to be so close to his younger sister...

"ONE MINUTE!" came the shout from outside the changing room door.

"YYYEEESSSSS!" replied Yulia loudly.

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Two minutes later and she strolled out confidently onto the tennis court, her son's cum still leaking out of her cunt and into her white tennis knickers.

One hour later, and she was lifting the trophy.

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Meanwhile in Scotland, Emma and Peter attended the funeral and wake. The celebrations of Aunt Laura's life went long into the night, and finished with Peter, Emma and Uncle David in the hotel bar, drinking toasts to Laura's memory.

Emma considered suggesting a threesome. Her, her father and her uncle, in memory of the incestuous aunt, but she decided against it. It seemed crude and in bad taste. But after they said goodbye to Uncle David, they went into her father's room together, and wordlessly made love.

Saturday they made love one more time in the morning. Emma woke her father with a blow-job, and he went down on her to repay the favour, before moving to penetration. Peter finally spilled his seed into his daughter after what felt like over an hour of different positions, each providing a different experience for her to get to know her father. Some brought them face to face. Others were like something you'd see in a circus, if a circus made porn. Some were deep and personal, while others just let her father thrust into her like a jack hammer. Emma had only known sex a while, but she got an education in that hotel room.

Sadly, all good things must end, and they checked out of the hotel and began the long drive home.

About four hours into the drive, Peter finally asked the awkward question.

"So.." he said. "You got infected by Callum, you said, before the virus was known about. But that was over a month ago. And women get sick if they don't go more than a week or two without sex. So..."

He paused to find the words he didn't want to say. Yes, just a few hours ago he'd been pounding her pussy like she was a porn star. But she was still his little girl, and it felt wrong to think about her having sex. At least with anyone else.

"So.." he continued finally. "Did you keep sleeping with Callum, or someone else?"

Emma waited over a minute before deciding that truth was better than a lie.

"Um...no. I've...um...been sleeping with Simon. I've been sleeping with my brother."

She went on to explain how it first began, how he saved her from almost falling into a deadly coma. How he'd kept injecting her to save her life. She left out how much she enjoyed it, how much they both enjoyed it, and how their older sister had helped orchestrate the whole thing.

Peter listened without speaking. His mind racing through a thousand thoughts. Some good, others not. Anger, sympathy and even joy as she described feeling safe and happy with both Simon and him as lovers.

"Well," he said finally, after listening to her whole story. "I wish you'd felt you could come to us about this earlier, but I understand. And I understand the attraction of family. And I really can't judge you. But when we get back, we'll need to make some decisions about these things."

The conversation froze, and they listened to the radio for a while. They, like most of the cars on the road almost crashed when a special news bulletin was announced.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE ARE GETTING CONFIRMED REPORTS FROM THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY ALL OVER THE WORLD.

A CURE HAS BEEN FOUND."

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The story concludes next time.