Sister Seduces Ch. 02bygeronimo_appleby©
The second instalment of Michelle's depravity. Thank you for all the feedback on the first chapter. Just to clarify a point; when I asked for feedback in the preamble to chapter 1, it wasn't my intention to 'fish for compliments'. What I wanted, and in some cases received, was some constructive guidance on how the piece should evolve (if at all), and any areas for improvement. I would ask the same for this second helping if the reader has time and inclination.
Is the piece confusing with the differing points of view?
Is the Estelle character surplus to requirements?
Do the italics work, and how about the omission of quotation marks in the second sub-chapter?
Any comments can be posted in Public Comments, sent by private message in the Lit. forum, or emailed.
Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoy it. Forgive any technical errors.
GA -- In my kitchen. Peterborough, UK. 4 Jan 2012.
ESTELLE MATTHEWS SMOOTHED the red skirt of her uniform over her hips and fixed the professional smile to her face. The trio advancing up the aisle in single file were obviously a family, or at least part of a family; the two women shared the same petite figure, straight black hair and full, pouty bottom lip -- mother and daughter, had to be. The young man was the male version, a little taller, nicely broad across the shoulders, gorgeously defined arms too, Estelle noticed; she was poised on the cusp of welcoming them aboard the aircraft, her lips already forming the words when the daughter's green-eyed smirk cut her short.
Vince, she thought, the girl had the same knowing leer, a way of smirking, an expression on her face that clearly signalled --
I can see you; I can read your thoughts and can peel back the layers of your wickedness until every last sordid fantasy you've ever played out in your head is mine to see, to watch, and to savour. I know what you think of doing, and I know what you've done. All of it, I can see all of it; I can taste it, just like you want to taste the honey-pot between my legs; I can smell it on you now. I can smell your cunt ...
It all came in an instant, not as words but as a feeling, an instinct. Estelle knew with certainty this girl, this young woman, could read her with those narcotic, green, penetrating eyes. The boy's face, and the mother's, although there was such a close familial resemblance in the features, didn't possess the same perceptive stare and crooked-mouthed grin. The mother and son were innocents compared to the young woman. This girl was dangerous, a sexually perverted predator --
Just like Vince.
The pulse started between her legs; her nipples thickened while heat spread from that tiny heart-beat; a visceral lub-dub of lust. She felt herself oiling and knew, even as her vulva began to swell and the desire trickled into the gusset of her underwear, she'd be upstairs in the crew area, the tiny, cramped cocoon below the great fin of the tail, as soon as time allowed. She'd take off her skirt, carefully folding it to avoid creasing, hang up the scarlet blazer and white blouse, and lie against the bulkhead of the plane, atop one of the bunk-beds, and rub herself until the burning itch had cooled.
Passengers went about their business, stowing hand baggage in overhead compartments, settling into seats.
Vince, Estelle thought again. She felt the heat rise in her face as she blushed. The trickle quickened from her opening at the thought of what she'd done with Vince, what she'd allowed him to do. The girl knows. Somehow, she knows. She's the same as Vince ... Estelle forced herself to look at the young woman's face. "Oh, God," she sighed when she found the green eyes still boring into her. Estelle struggled to reconcile logic with the strange sensation of the woman somehow knowing about Vince and the perverted acts they'd shared.
She's just a woman, just another passenger. She can't know anything. It's impossible ...
An image formed in her head, a fantasy so lewd it made her gasp; one that could lead to dismissal for gross misconduct if it were to play out for real. The girl and her brother ... and perhaps the mother as well, all three of them ... and Estelle, in the crew quarters, bare-skinned and bright-eyed, with the girl licking Estelle's sex while the mother sucked her son's cock ...
Estelle pictured the scene vividly, could even hear the words; she imagined the girl staring at her and grinning as she spoke:
Lick me, lick me and taste me. Look at my mother, that filthy old slut, just look at her sucking my lovely brother's gorgeous cock. I know what that thing feels like inside. I know how it fills me up nice and tight and pulsing; and I know how it feels when he comes, when he lets it go and all that stuff pumps out of it. He can stay hard you know; he can keep it stiff and make it spit twice, perhaps three times ...
My mother likes it too. I seduced her before we even came away on holiday. Him, my brother, the beautiful Christopher, I seduced him on the island. He was easy. After I'd fucked him the first time I told him a secret; I told him about our mother, and I ... introduced them both to ... well, you know.
Estelle's legs trembled; she gasped, staggering slightly, and clung to the seat next to her for support. In her head the girl's voice relentlessly carried on:
Now, stop tonguing my cunt. I taste good, don't I? But I want to watch my brother fuck our mum, and then I want you to watch him fuck me.
In her mind's eye Estelle saw the girl smirk. You know how it feels, don't you Estelle? It's the same as Vince. You know how it feels to have Vince between your legs; you recognise that itch when he makes you do those things. I know what he makes you do; I know about the dog collar chains and the lipstick tattoos. All the filthy things you do for him -- You love doing it too, don't you, Estelle? You enjoy the wickedness of your own brother fucking you. That dirty secret makes you hot.
Lost in the reverie, forgetting she was inside a packed aircraft cabin, Estelle groaned. Several concerned heads turned towards her.
"Are you all right, miss?" somebody asked from a seat behind.
Estelle managed to croak an affirmation and a weak nod. She needed to get upstairs soon. She willed the pilot to get the plane in the air, get them all settled, and then ... and then she could stagger up the steep ladder, hitch up her skirt -- creases be damned -- and rub herself to a blissful climax.
The girl, the imaginary one in her head, was right. She knew how it felt all right. Knew how it felt to feel Vince and his thick cock filling her as he muttered obscenities into her ear, the filth dripping in like poison. She recalled the thrill and the fear of him taking her out, in public, SLUT and SPUNK-WHORE, lipstick tattoos branded on her skin, and where he'd used her in front of a dangerously murmuring and unsettled group of seedy men in a seedy lay-by adjacent to a busy English by-way ...
Did those men know they were brother and sister?
Estelle thought that they probably did. And that knowledge, them knowing of her perversity -- of her incest -- only made the whole surreal scene better for her.
The depravity delighted her.
A clear, prescient vision came to Estelle. When the flight came in to London's Gatwick airport, even before the big plane jolted to a halt at the air-bridge, before she'd cleared the formalities, before she'd reached her modest flat in Crawley, she'd call or text her brother and ask him (desperately beg him?) to make some arrangements. Already she could hear his chuckle. What d'ya 'ave in mind, 'Stelle? Sumfink for just me an' you ...?
Estelle's breasts ached to be touched, to be squeezed ... to be fucking mauled by as many clamouring hands could reach them. Her clitoris throbbed, feeling huge and swollen inside the compress of her knickers, the gusset of which was now sodden.
She was soaked, and all in less than a minute since she'd first seen the girl moving down the aisle.
No, the voice in her head replied, a voice thick and treacly with lust. Like before. I want all them to spunk on me while your goo dribbles out of me. I want them to watch and to wank and then for them to cover me in that ... stuff ...
She wanted it all. Their stares as they watched her brother fuck her; to watch their hunger for her blaze in their glittering eyes. She wanted the profane lipstick graffiti on her skin, a sign of her humiliation and servility. Did they know Vince was her brother? Estelle hoped they did.
Vince would do it. He'd be more than happy to arrange a little soirée -- a swah-ray as he pronounced it in his put-on cockney accent.
Estelle would do anything for Vince, anything, just, as she dimly suspected, the good-looking boy would do anything for his sister, the girl with the haunting green eyes ...
The intercom broke Estelle's sordid fantasy. She realised, blinking blearily through a colleague's announcement that the plane was almost ready for departure, that she was now being stared at by almost everyone in that section of the aircraft cabin. Releasing the claw-like grip she had on the headrest of the seat to her left Estelle re-applied her professional smile, cleared her throat, and, after regaining an outward appearance of composure, avoided the young woman's eyes as the pilot instructed the cabin crew to cross-check the doors.
THE PLANE HAD BEEN airborne for an hour-and-a-half when Beverly felt her daughter's hand against her thigh. The dinner had been served, the remains taken away, and drinks had been poured. Now the cabin lights were about to be dimmed. Tanned and tired holidaymakers settled down to sleep. For those that found sleep elusive floating high above the ground in an aluminium tube, there was video-on-demand, or perhaps a book.
In row 53 the daughter turned to her mother. "You should cover up with a blanket, Mum," Michelle advised. "It'll get cold in here." She eyed her mother's tanned legs appreciatively and grinned. "And in that little skirt ..."
Beverly flushed, her cheeks burning in the dim cabin, she knew what her daughter's intentions were.
"No," Beverly whispered, shaking her head for emphasis. "Not here, you can't, we can't ..."
But her daughter could be persuasive, as persuasive as her father, perhaps, Beverly thought, remembering the day at the spa, even more influential. Even as the protestations came to her lips Beverly felt her thighs slacken and slide apart. She reached for the light packet of the blanket and tore the filmy cover away. The coverlet, red and soft, fell into her lap. Her daughter's fingers found the heat between Beverly's legs.
"I want to lick you, Mother," Michelle murmured in Beverly's ear.
Desire slid from the mature woman's sex. "Michelle, how ... how did it come to this? I mean what ... what are we doing? Us ... you, me ... and your brother ...? This is wrong, so, so wrong ...." She wriggled, her actions contradicting the words of protest as she attempted to ruck the hem of her skirt higher -- To give Michelle's probing fingers easier access to that itchy, hot place.
Michelle chuckled. "You say it's so wrong, Mother dearest, but you're still eager to let me get at you. And Chris ..." The girl gave a low laugh. Her breath puffed against Beverly's cheek. "You were keen enough to fuck him," Michelle added quietly. "When I told you I'd seduced him and that I wanted you to join in. You were ever so keen after a glass or three of champers, Mother." Beverly groaned, closing her eyes and forcing her legs as wide as she could manage in the tight space between her daughter and the fabric of the plane's bulkhead. "Your own son, Mother," Michelle whispered insistently. "You fucked your son and then watched while he fucked me. I saw your face when that was going on. You loved it. Admit it, Mum, admit you loved watching him do it to me." Beverly moaned again when Michelle's fingers rubbed urgently at the aroused and sensitive nub of her clitoris. Her hips jerked convulsively. "I enjoyed myself when I watched you. I came really hard, I thought I was pissing myself I came so much." The girl smiled into the dimness, her fingers sliding between the slippery folds of her mother's labia. The older woman gasped, biting on her lower lip to stop herself crying out into the dimness. "I must get that from you, eh, Mum? Being so juicy."
Movement came from Michelle's left. An urgent whisper sounded in her ear: "What are you two doing?"
"I'm fingering Mum's cunt," Michelle replied to her brother's enquiry.
"Are you fucking nuts?" Christopher hissed. "In here? With all these people around ... And do you always have to be so ... crude?"
Michelle sniggered. "Here," she said, "lick this." She pushed her fingers under her brother's nose. "She's soaking and my fingers are covered." Michelle forced her digits into her brother's mouth. "And," she added, "I like it crude. The dirty talk gets me all hot and makes my cunt itch." Michelle slid her hand beneath the blanket again. Her mother jerked and grunted, sliding low down in her seat to take Michelle's finger into her opening. "You didn't mind me being all crude and dirty in the hotel, did you, Chris? Not when you were having your cock sucked by your mum and your sister ...
Christopher had stared in wide-eyed disbelief as his mother, naked, her body lithe and tanned except for the pale bikini lines, walked slowly towards him across the hotel room. In one hand his mother held a bottle of champagne, in the other a glass.
Drink? She'd offered, holding the glass towards the boy on the bed.
Mum! Jesus, no ... He stared at his sister, eyes wide with shock. Michelle? What ...?
Then while Michelle, nude like her mother, grinned at what she'd arranged, Beverly took a long draught from the glass, let it drop to the carpet, knelt at the edge of the bed and kissed her son. Fizzy bubbles squirted into Christopher's mouth. He coughed, caught by surprise.
Kiss me, darling, Beverly murmured, her hands sliding across her son's taut stomach, reaching for his stalk.
She wants to suck your cock, Chris, Michelle informed the stunned boy. I told you I had a secret. Well here it is. Our mother.
Oh shit ... Oh no ... Oh fuck ... No ... not mum. It can't be true.
It's true, Chris, darling, his mother whispered. Her eyes locked on the boy's cock, which was thickening despite its master's shock.
Relax, Chris, Michelle said. Just lie back and ley Mummy make you all big and stiff.
Beverly's hand moved slowly up and down Christopher's shaft. Before the boy could say any more, the woman had ducked her head forward, her long black hair pooling on her son's tummy, and licked the mushroom head of his cock.
Lick it, you filthy cow, Michelle instructed. Go on, lick it, make it wet with your spit. Suck your son's cock until it squirts the hot stuff ...
Jesus, Michelle, Christopher muttered, looking to his sister. This is actually—
The girl smiled and crossed the room.
It is, little Brother, it's really happening.
Michelle pushed her fingers into her mother's long hair. The older woman gasped when Michelle made a fist and pulled her face from Christopher's groin. Keeping her eyes locked on her brother, Michelle kissed their mother, pushing her tongue into Beverly's mouth. In a lewd display, purely for her brother's gape-mouthed benefit, Michelle made a show of licking her mother's tongue.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh ... Christopher murmured as he witnessed the women's sliding tongues rolling and writhing around and around. He heard the juicy, wet sound of their kissing; heard their breathing quicken to urgent panting; listened to his mother's mewls and tiny whimpers of desire and longing.
Kiss me now, Michelle whispered to Christopher after releasing her mother's hair. Kiss me now while our gorgeous mother sucks your cock.
Christopher's first climax at his mother's touch came in a simultaneous dual-explosion. One was a huge grunt that burst from his chest; the other spurted a great arc of jizm from the eye of his cock.
Michelle let out a snort of delighted laughter when the goo spurted thickly across her mother's shocked face.
Oh! Oh dear ... It ... the woman cried when thick semen spattered in a hot rain against her cheek and chest. She flinched, caught by surprise. How much is there? she squealed as she held her son's pumping erection in her fist.
Oh he can come gallons, Mum, Michelle responded, staring at the glistening ropes of spunk dangling from Beverly's hair and chin. If you get on the bed and open your legs, he'll stay hard enough to fuck you. Michelle leaned forward, bending at the waist, and licked a trembling, gooey strand from her mother's face. Then, abruptly, making her mother jump, she ordered: DO IT NOW! GET ON THE BED. OPEN YOUR LEGS! FUCK HIM!
Galvanised by her daughter's brusque commands, Beverly complied.
She groaned when her son, at his sister's behest, clambered between her legs, settled his torso along her body, and aimed the dome of his cock at her opening.
Mum, Christopher sighed as his cock slid smoothly inside. He groaned when the crinkle of his mother's trimmed pubic bush met his belly.
Darling boy, Beverly murmured in response. Her arms went around her son's back and she pulled him onto herself. Slowly, baby, Beverly moaned. Do it slowly.
Heedless of his own goo splashed across his mother's face Christopher kissed her; moving gently in and out of her body; teasing both of them with long, slow, liquid glides.
Michelle watched from a seat across the room. Her fingers swirled around the slippery mush of her vulva as she stared, wide-eyed and rapt at her brother and mother making love.
The young woman's fingers blurred as she stroked furiously, fingering herself faster and harder. On the bed, her brother and mother were growing more urgent. Their love-making had moved along in pace. Now, with triceps flexing, Christopher held himself straight-armed above his mother's writhing body and began to slam into her with fierce, metronomic strokes.
Do it to her, Chris, Michelle exhorted after returning to the bedside. Fuck her; make her come ... Go on ... The girl's eyes gleamed as she spoke; her face a mask of concentrated focus.
Beverly grunted, sweat oiling her body, while her son pounded her up-tilted cunt and her daughter, kneeling alongside the bed, sucked at the taut thimble-length of her nipples.
Michelle's fingers found their way between her thighs again; Christopher's cock glistened with his mother's desire as he grunted and grimaced above her; Beverly clawed at the bed covers, her teeth clenched with effort as she strove for her climax.
Christopher's grunt and arched back told of his orgasm. The boy pushed deep into his mother's body and sighed heavily as the stuff squirted from him in a sublime release.
Michelle squealed when the hot wave or her climax crashed over her. She kissed her mother, grunting into the woman's mouth as her thighs clamped tight around her wrist and the pleasure rolled on and on.
Beverly felt the spurts of her son's ejaculate flutter inside her as the young man, her son, filled her with his love. Her body went rigid, a tight clenching of all her muscles and limbs before the great explosion of her own orgasm shattered her conscious thought. She moaned and writhed, even as her son slumped, spent, atop her body. She roughly broke away from her daughter's kiss and bit into Christopher's shoulder, clawing at the tender, sunburned skin of his back as the glorious heat radiated through her.
The thought came to Beverly, clear and distinct, as her climax tapered: (Will we make a baby?).
Christopher rolled away from his mother's talons, leaving the woman panting and blinking in surprise on the bed.