What happens in Lock-down

"I don't just write incest stories," Cassie's nod was a concession that that was true. "But short of going into some areas which I find abhorrent, I think it's because it's a fairly extreme taboo. The lure of the untouchable. And it's a really busy category. There're a lot of stories in that section, so if your story works in there it must be okay."

"What do you mean when you say abhorrent? Because incest, you know, that's pretty ..."

"Things that turn me personally off completely," I said, "Bodily fluids -- weeing and stuff, and involving animals, and the like."

"People do stuff like that?" There was a horrified fascination in her question.

"Yes. Or at least they fantasise about it."

"Wow!"

"I try and keep it respectful too. You know between the characters." I waited a minute, not wanting to seem too eager. "So, what did you think?" I asked her.

Cassie thought for a minute. "I was a bit shocked at first. Angry because I thought it was about me. But then I read your stories on the web-site and I could see that they were just characters, not real people - though, that girl, the one with the..."

I nodded, "Cousin Debbie?"

Cas laughed. "Yes. But I liked the way it was her but it wasn't her as well."

She paused again, thinking, "After I read yours, I read some of the other stories on the web-site, and I can see what you mean -- about the fack stories..."

"Fap." I corrected her. "A lot of people like those sorts of stories, the bulk of readers I'd say."

"Yes," she paused, "Okay. But when I read yours, I can see that yours are as much about the story and the characters, and I understand now that the one in that story you're writing isn't me.

"Do many people read your stories?" She asked.

"At the moment -- over a twenty-four-hour period -- I get between two and four hundred views, sometimes they're full reads and sometimes they're just people looking at them and not bothering. If I publish a new story that can rise to tens of thousands over the same period while the story is new." Cassie's eyebrows went up and she looked surprised.

"Some people get a lot more than that." I told her.

"The fap ones?"

I nodded. "I believe so, I can only go by my own stats, but I get glimpses of others people's volumes -- I'm doing better than some and not as well as others.

"Which is cool," I told her.

We both sat there for a minute, the double doors to the garden were open and a blackbird was singing in one of the bushes.

"You didn't answer my question." I reminded her.

"Did I like them?" Cassie paused a moment. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know -- I half expected an academic review or a literary crit.

"I'm not good at fiction," she said at last, "But I liked them. In fact, the series about the guy and his mum, I thought that that was really good, with a bit of re-writing -- you could probably publish that mainstream."

"That's been said before." I told her.

"I did like the Hallowe'en one, and the one about the robot girl."

I like both of those too, though the robot girl story never really took off with the readers, it has a decent score, so people who've read it, enjoyed it." I explained about scores and voters. "But in terms of volumes -- no, not a lot."

"Surely you could target your stories at what people want..."

"And change my name to Stock, Aiken and Waterman?" I laughed, "I suppose I could, just writing stories to a strict formula?"

Cass nodded.

"No. That's not me. I do that for a living -- creating things to strict guidelines, writing these is what I do for fun. So, what if some of them aren't as popular as others, I still like those stories."

And the conversation seemed to end there. I made a light supper, and we sat down to watch another film.

It was Cassie's turn to choose, so we sat and watched something worthy, and uplifting, and because I wasn't that engaged, I opened my laptop and started picking away at another story, not the one that had sparked Cassie's anger, this is an extension of the series Cassie had read.

I realised that Cassie was reading my page and not watching the film, so I turned the screen towards her. She pushed it back and turned the volume of the TV down.

"Read it to me?" She asked, making herself comfortable next to me, so I did.

"Dear God, I hate Mondays." I started, "If Friday and Saturday are the burning fire of the weekend with all of their promise and excitement, and Sunday is the embers, as we come down from the high, then Monday is the cold ashes lying in the hearth. Not only that, but with the working week stretching before us, Monday has its claw-like, cold, clammy hands strangling any anticipation and choking the joy out of the upcoming week.

On the other hand, there are exceptions -- today being a fine example.

A pair of eager, well-educated lips wrapped themselves around my soft cock, teasing it, nibbling it, licking and suckling at it to get its attention. And so good were these particular lips that the interest wasn't long in coming. A faint hum of satisfaction emanated from the lips under discussion as the mouth behind them was filled with cock.

A soft, silky tongue licked at the head of my prick, swirling round it, caressing it, before the owner plunged downwards in a slow head first dive. Down and down and down until I was lodged in the top of her sucking, enveloping throat.

In and out, up and down, a great blowjob, assisted by gentle hands that teased my shaft while her mouth drew me in and then slowly drew me out again.

I was horny anyway, and the owner and operator of said hands and lips knew this as she sucked each ball in turn, humming deep in her throat as she did so. As she did, I felt her fingers on my cock start to stroke up and down with a firm but gentle pressure, twisting her hand as she did so.

Mmmmmm! Oh fuck! So good!

And then I felt her hands leave my cock and balls, to be replaced by the warm, enfolding pressure of her breasts. Her mams, her tits, her waps, her glorious, full, warm, wobbly boobies.

Squeezing, milking my erection, rubbing her tit flesh up and drawing it down. The best bit was on the down strokes when my cock-head emerged far enough out from her cleavage, that meant she could still suckle it, leaving it moist and lubricated for the up stroke.

Such a good tit-fuck, but I was getting to the point where I needed to get off. I applied a gentle

pressure on her head, pushing it lower. The boobies fell away, now it was just her hands and her sucking mouth again.

Faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

Sucking.

Sucking, gobbling, swallowing, a mouth-fuck magnifique.

It was time, I felt the cum boiling in me, streaming up from my groin, my balls lifting and my cock getting harder and it got ready to shoot.

My fellatrice felt it too. Her hand wanked me harder, rubbing up and down with delicious friction, as she clamped her mouth down on me.

OHHHH! Fuck me! I came hard, the best sort of cum, the one that feels like a fire hose, as cum spurts long and hard.

All captured in a sucking, warm, enveloping, cum-guzzling mouth."

"I like that." Cassie said, "Is it another incest story?"

"No." I told her, "I'm exploring the theme of unexpected wealth again."

Cassie looked at me.

"How do you make these up?" She asked.

"How many paintings of the death of John the Baptist are there?" I asked her.

"A few," she conceded, meaning loads. Cassie got what I was asking her. A lot of paintings, certainly in the Renaissance are based on Bible-stories, and you often find several versions of those stories sometimes by the same artist.

"Porn writers are the same -- they all try their hand at the same basic stories -- you name a situation and somebody has written about it, several somebodies in fact, and they all tell the stories in different ways. I mean there are only so many situations or combinations of situations when it comes to relationships, so the challenge is thinking up a new way to tell that story and make it new and interesting."

At this point the film ended and because she had a conference call with her museum in the morning Cassie went to bed, I wrote for another hour and turned in.

A couple of days later, when Cassie came down to breakfast, she looked sort of frazzled. She was back in her thin t-shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts. Wow! For some reason that morning I couldn't take my eyes of her legs. It was like I was seeing them for the first time, they're slim but beautifully shaped, jeans -- ripped or otherwise - don't do them justice.

Cass was late getting up -- I'd actually done my 'run' before she appeared, and for a second, she looked like she hadn't slept well. I've heard about 'cabin fever' from when people used to spend the winter in a log cabin. They'd sleep a lot and then their sleep patterns would get out of whack. I thought we'd avoided the worst of it for four and half weeks so far but it looked like Cass was starting to suffer. I figured that being cooped up in a house that isn't yours, however familiar it is, in a country other than the one where you live wasn't helping either.

"Have you got any calls today?" I asked.

Cass shook her head and grunted, over a bowl of cereal. "No, I'm taking a couple of days off."

"Are you okay?" She looked rough, like she'd been drinking. She shook her head again. "Temperature? How is your sense of smell?" I asked. She waved that question away with her hand.

"Well look, I'm doing a supply run today, do you want me to bring anything?" Another mumble and a shake of the head.

I headed off just after that -- the queues for the supermarket don't really get going until mid-morning so the queue wouldn't be right round the car park like I've seen it before.

I got back mid-morning and unloaded the car. I had expected Cass to be in the garden catching the sun. But she wasn't there. I went up to her room and as I was about to knock, I heard a groan.

When I knocked there was another groan, so worried about her, I opened the door.

"Ooops! Sorry!" I backed out immediately.

Cassie was naked on her bed, legs spread and her fingers frantically rubbing at herself. Her other hand was cupped around her breast, it looked like she was desperately close to bringing herself off.

I wasn't even sure that she had seen or heard me, so I went back down stairs and started to put the shopping away.

Cassie appeared about fifteen minutes later. Now she simply wore her night shirt and a pair of pale coloured knickers that showed occasionally as she moved, hardly elegant, chic Cassie, but lovely, in a dishevelled way.

"Sorry about that!" I apologised, "Here, these are for you." I handed her a small bouquet of flowers that I'd picked up on a whim for her.

Cassie clutched them to her, looking forlorn. "Thank you." She said quietly. I stopped putting shopping away and put the kettle on.

"What is the matter?" I asked as we sat down.

"It's your bloody porn." She said, much to my surprise.

"Well, not your porn precisely but that started it all off. Since you showed me that site, I can't stop reading them! I'm horny all the time and I can't stop masturbating." Cassie looked like she was going to cry.

"It's not the stories though is it?" I suggested.

Cassie shook her head. "I think it's a lot of things. But some of the porn stories are very good, and I get so worked up, so turned on.

"Two days Kaz, two fucking days I've been like this. I'm rubbing myself raw!"

At that point Cassie realised that she was actually holding flowers. "These are nice, thank you."

"They seemed like a good idea, I figured they might brighten your room."

"Yes, they're really pretty."

I brought one of mum's old vases out of the back of a cupboard and put the bouquet in with some water.

Cass stood up and hugged me for bringing them for her.

It wasn't really a brother-sister hug. Cassie melted against me, wrapped herself around me, and I reciprocated, folding her in my arms. The picture of her on the bed came into my head as she pressed her boobs against my chest. At that point she felt my cock move in my trousers. To my surprise she just looked at me.

"Did I do that?" And she pressed her pelvis against mine, grinding my erection between us.

"I think I might have done some of it." I told her as I unwrapped her from around me. "I need to go and make a phone call."

I didn't but I wasn't comfortable with the way things had been going. Look, I may write about incestuous behaviours but that doesn't mean to say that I have done it or want to do it myself. I wanted to have a serious word with myself, so I went and locked myself in my office.

It was wrong, I told myself, on so many levels. It's not just one of society's biggest taboos, it's illegal to boot! And it wasn't like we were hormonal adolescents getting over-heated and out of control. We are both intelligent people -- Cassie actually is a genius, officially, to be indulging in that sort of behaviour, well, it's just not on. I was appalled with myself.

Apart from the fact that every so often an image of Cassie lying nude in the sun or lying on her bed with her big boobs bobbing back and to as she jilled herself off, would flash up in my memory, in fact it got so bad I had to open my shorts and tug one off.

I realised that it was no good, sitting there, with my shorts around my ankles, yanking away at my dick. I needed to do something.

But before I could take that thought any further, Cassie knocked on my office door. I stood up dragging my shorts up my legs.

"Kaz! Are you okay?"

"Yes!" I replied, re-dressing myself and opening the door for her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Cassie said, "I'm sorry about before..."

I shook my head, "Not your fault. Mine, I guess. What do you want for tea?"

This had become a bit of a ritual. Cas smiled, "I don't know, what can I have?"

"I was going to do fish fingers, oven chips and beans."

Cassie's eyes lit up, "Seriously?" It was something that had been a favourite when we were young.

I nodded.

"Retro!" She laughed. "I'll go and get a bath. I stink a bit." She did, my sister smelled of sex.

"Wait a minute then!" I told her, and grabbed a small bag from the kitchen. "I picked these up for you as well." I'd picked up a crème bath, and one of those things that fizzes up when you drop it in the bath to cheer her up as well.

Once again Cassie looked delighted. She kissed my cheek and as she did, I had those images flash past my mind's eye again. Then she turned and went up to the family bathroom.

After tea, we sat in the lounge and I poured Cass a glass of wine. She had dressed properly after her bath, wearing a cotton shirt, pulled out of her waistband and pair of black leggings. Cass had put her hair up and was bare-footed -- something she did a lot around the house. Suddenly she looked at me suspiciously.

"Why?" She asked.

"Why what?"

"The flowers, the bath stuff, the wine, why are you doing all of this?"

"Like I said this morning. You've been stuck in here with me for over five weeks now. Me? This is almost like my normal way of life, but I figured it's been really tough for you and I just wanted you to feel good."

Cassie raised her glass in a toast, "To the best brother I have ever had! Thank you for looking after me."

We drank, and I could see Cass was thinking about something.

"Kaz, am I sexy?"

"I'm not sure I'm supposed to answer that." I told her.

That obviously wasn't enough. "Okay, put it another way, if I was a woman in one of your stories how would you describe me? Would I be 'busty', 'skinny' or 'big-titted'?"

"Well..." This was a bit of a trap, I thought. "You'd be all of those things, but differently. I mean you are skinny, and busty, but if you were one of my characters, I'd use more complimentary terms to describe you, emphasise 'classy Cassie'. Instead of 'skinny' you'd be 'slim', or 'elegant'; and you wouldn't be 'busty', you'd be 'well-endowed' or 'voluptuous'."

Cass took a big swallow of wine as she chuckled. "Voluptuous? I like that."

"If I was actually describing you -- Cassie -- and not some made-up sister, I might even use Rubenesque, which would be in-line with your artistic background."

Cassie nodded. "You don't think they're too big do you Kaz?" She squeezed her upper arms together making them bulge even more.

"No." I said, after a moment, "Though your hips could be bigger for a Rubens woman, your boobs are right on the mark. Peter Paul liked a good pair of boobs and from what I have seen they are a good pair of boobs."

"You like them?"

"If you weren't my sister, I'd be on them like a rash."

Cassie smiled. We went and started watching the film Infinity War, and drank some more wine.

One of the things I will not forgive this pandemic for is the way it has killed off 'That Friday Feeling'. With all the days running together, the end of the week and marking the start of the weekend doesn't seem so important. Of course, the curse of Sunday night is still there but Friday and Saturday just feel like any other day.

Early on we started making the point of marking the start of the weekend, by doing something fun. On that particular evening, we did it by finishing the first bottle and going onto a second. Cassie drinks wine like water normally, but I guess the restricted conditions meant that maybe her tolerance had waned a bit. Certainly, by the end of the second bottle, she had sprawled along the couch and was sitting leaning against me as we watched Thanos snap his fingers.

"Oh God!" She said, "That's so sad! Tell me everything is alright!"

"That's tomorrow night's movie." It was strange to watch these films with someone who had no idea at all about what was going to happen.

"'I don't feel so good Mr Stark'" She quoted, "Awww, that got me right in the feels!"

Now normally Cass would never say something like 'right in the feels', I figured I was rubbing off on her. But the way she said it -- a bit too eager, it made me wonder.

"Do you know that the guy playing Spiderman is an English actor?" I asked her.

"No?! He's got a great American accent! And he's kind of cute too."

If my sister wasn't drunk, she was getting there. From her over-the-top responses, she was at the bottom end of 'squiffy' at the very least. It was that sort of state where her moods could swing wildly, from high to low and back.

"It's all your fault!" She said, quietly. And there we were, at 'low'.

"Me? What have I done this time?"

"You showed me pornography."

"Oh, now wait a minute! I've seen some of those pictures you study -- you have been looking at porn all of your working life and getting paid to do it."

"It's not like that!" She dismissed my argument. "Those paintings were porn for their time, because they were scandalous, because they broke the rules about the way people should behave but honestly Kaz, by modern standards they're pretty tame. The stories I've been reading make those pictures look like kid's comics. Have you ever done some of the stuff I read in your stories?"

"Some." I said, "Not everything but I try to write about things I know, so I've done a fair bit."

"And that's the problem," Cass said loudly, "I haven't! Even when I was with Marco, it was very -- what-d'ye-call-it? Vanilla! Straight. Lie there and think of Venice. It was never really satisfying. Even since then, I haven't dated much and most of the people I have been out with are over-awed by me."

"Well you're so much cleverer than them."

"Yes!" She said plaintively, "They see 'these'..." And she threw her shoulders back, hefting her boobs at me, "And they're like slavering dogs. But when they get a glimpse of what's up here..." She tapped her head, indicating her brain, "They're off like a shot, never to be seen again."