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Charity Baby

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Amateur

“Jenny!” Paul yelled up the stairs. “Len’s just been on the phone and they want us to do something for the charity raffle he’s running. Can you talk to him and decide what we’ll do? I’m going to be in court all week.”

I descended the stairs with the grace that came from years of ballet and gymnastics training.

“Paul, please don’t shout up the stairs. Come up and speak, or even just call on your phone. But shouting is horrible.”

“I’m sorry darling. You’re right. It’s just that I have to finish my planning for court next week. I’m sure my client didn’t do it and I’m working through the likely prosecution case.”

“Yes, yes. I’m sure. But please just call next time. Or even leave a note.”

“Did you see Groundhog Day?” Len asked.

“Of course I did. The Religious Studies teacher played it in class one afternoon.”

“Do you remember the auction at the ball?”

“Yes. They all wanted to buy Phil.”

“We’re doing an auction like that.”

“And you want Paul to be in the auction?”

“No, we want you to be in the auction. And Aaliyah, Freja, Sofia, and Natalia.”

“And what will the winner get?”

“That’s up to you to decide together, I suppose. I expect that most people will want dinner and drinks, or dinner and dancing. Would you be up for that?”

“Len, I studied ballet for 15 years. I’m always up for dancing! But my cooking doesn’t really go beyond baking potatoes and putting stuff in the microwave.”

“Don’t worry, Jenny. No-one will ask you to cook them dinner. They’ll take you out somewhere fancy, like The Waterside Inn or The Fat Duck. You could put up with some Michelin Star elegance, couldn’t you?”

“OK, Len. Sign me up.”

“Paul, you have to dress up smart for tomorrow night. We’re going to the charity auction.”

“Oh, that thing Len’s running?”

“The thing you asked me to agree with him. I’m up for auction.”

“Like in Groundhog Day?”

“Like in Groundhog Day.”

“So, do you want me to bid on you? And do you want a limit on my bids?”

“You can bid on me if you want, sweetie. But I think Len needs me and the others he’s signed up to be bought by someone other than their husbands. He needs a bit of a ‘frisson’ if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, right. So you’ll go to a restaurant with someone?”

“Exactly.”

“Sounds fine. OK, I’ll bid up to £500 and then drop out, so Len gets a good price for you. Is that OK?”

“Brilliant!”

“Len’s got so many people here tonight. It’s amazing!”

“I know. I don’t know who half these people are.”

“I do. There are two from Premier League football. International players. And that one’s from the basketball team. He’s a TV producer. That one over there is a celebrity hairdresser. I know because I represented him — and won — last year. Decent chap.”

“So do you think Len’ll raise a lot?”

“I had assumed he’d get about £1,000 for each of you. A nice sum for a charity donation for most people. But this crowd has enough people with big money that he could be in for much more. But I’ll still bid for you up to £500, like we agreed.

“Who would have thought that Natalia would fetch £3,000?” I asked. “I mean, she’s lovely and all but that’s a lot of money!”

“They’re not really paying for her, Jenny. I think they’re showing everyone how much of a wad they have. It’s no different from rutting stags in Richmond Park. But these stags are clashing wallets instead of antlers.”

“I’m up next. I suppose I have to do my best to bring in more than Natalia and the others.”

“Don’t worry. I am confident you won’t show yourself up.”

Then, I heard my name and went up to the stage. Len had me do a twirl. He said it was to show off my dancing skills but I think he wanted my skirt to float up and show my legs. Maybe my knickers. Not that I was wearing any!

“So, let’s start the bidding at £750!” Len said.

Paul dutifully put up his hand, even though it was more than what we’d agreed. But lots of other hands went up, too. Paul didn’t have to make any more bids. And I just had to wait to see who bought me.

I was glad to see how many people were bidding. And the bidding kept on going up. It quickly passed £3,000, then £4,000, and topped out at £5,750. I was very happy with how much more I had earned than any of the others.

The winner was Marland, a basketball player. He looked the part. He was tall with long, muscular arms and a very lean frame.

I went to join him and we bowed as I sat next to him at his table.

We swapped numbers so we could discuss details. But he didn’t say much. It was an expensive charity evening. The tables were overflowing with wine, smoked salmon, and roast lamb. But Marland was on water and had a meal that looked more nutritious than delicious. I suppose athletes don’t get to eat what they want, even at events like this.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Jenny. We can discuss it on the phone. I don’t want to suggest something here and have you feel obligated. I’ll think of something tonight and because I’ll only sarıyer escort be a voice, you’ll be empowered to say ‘no’ if you don’t like the suggestion.”

“What do you think he’ll want?” I asked Paul as we drove home?

“Dinner? Maybe dancing, like Len suggested?”

“I don’t think so. I saw what he was eating. It obviously came from his team’s dietician and not the caterers. He won’t be free to go out for a dirty burger, let alone something dripping with caviar at a Michelin Star place.”

“Maybe just dancing, then? He can drink water and you’re a good dancer.”

“Maybe he’ll ask me for sex.” I blurted out.

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Would you agree to have sex with him?”

“I’m married to you!” I exclaimed.

“Sure you are. But that doesn’t mean you’ll never have sex with anyone else again. I’m a lawyer. I know I’m on the criminal side of things but I see people. People like sex. Even married people. At least one in six wives cheat and more than that have sex with others with their husband’s permission.”

“And what do you want?”

“I want to stay married to you. But I want to stay married to a very happy you. I wouldn’t object if you agreed to have sex with Marland. If you want to, that is.”

“Why?”

“You have an opportunity. If you have sex with him, with my knowledge and consent, then you might like it and you might not. But if he asks and you reject him you’ll probably hate yourself for not taking the opportunity. You don’t want to be on your deathbed worrying about missing out on some sex.”

“You assume he’ll want sex. I doubt it. I think he’ll want to go dancing or to the cinema, or a play or something. But I’ll think about it.”

“Paul, I think he wants to have sex with me.”

I called him at work right after Marland called me.

“I thought so. What did he suggest?”

“A long weekend in the country. Drive down to Dorset, on Friday morning and stay in a little cottage, driving back on Monday afternoon.”

“Wow!”

“That’s all you can say?”

“I must admit that I thought he’d just want one night with you, not three. What do you want?”

“Paul, darling, I think you’re right. I think I should go with him. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Jenny, I think it will be good for us. I love it. Say ‘no’ if you don’t want to go. But otherwise, I support you spending a weekend away with a lanky basketball player.”

“What should I pack?”

We were lying in bed, having just made love. We’d discussed the offer again at dinner and Paul was very supportive. In fact, I think he was quite turned on.

“Just a toothbrush.”

“I’m sure we’ll do more than have sex, Paul.”

“I don’t know. You should text him tomorrow and ask what his plans are? Ask what you should bring. Maybe you’ll go to the beach and need a swimming costume. I don’t know.”

“Condoms?”

“You hate condoms. That’s why you make me pull out.”

“I know. I do hate condoms. But what if Marland can’t pull out. Or doesn’t want to?”

“You said that Susannah and Ralph took three years to get pregnant, right? And you parents had a hard time, too. That’s why you just ask me to pull out. Your parents and your sister struggled for years. You’re very unlikely to come back pregnant after just three nights. Anyway, I’m sure it’ll be hotter for you if he cums inside you. You’ll have much more satisfying orgasms.”

“And if I get pregnant?”

“I’ll give you my complete support no matter what. You can choose to have his baby and I’ll raise it with you. Or you can choose something else. Up to you. It’s your body, so it’s your decision.”

“You’d really support me if I got pregnant with another man’s baby. And kept the baby. And the father looked nothing like you?”

“Support you? Of course. I love you, Jenny. That’s why I’d support you.”

Then, he went down on me and relaxed me to a delightfully mellow orgasm that helped me fall asleep.

“Just casual clothes. There’s a pub that serves a great Sunday Lunch. But you don’t need to dress up for anything formal.”

As we spoke I kept on wondering if I should ask whether he’d want me to bring condoms. I couldn’t work out how to bring it up. And then I realised that I didn’t really want him to use condoms. Paul was right, I wanted Marland’s cum deep inside me. I wanted to feel it splashing against my cervix. I wanted to think about it making its way through and finding my unprotected womb.

So I didn’t bring it up. Instead, I just gave him my address and he promised to pick me up at 8 O’clock sharp on Friday.

So, I packed a duffel bag with two pairs of jeans, some tops with built-in support for my tiny little breasts. I didn’t pack pyjamas or a nightie.

Marland had been quiet at the dinner and very efficient on the phone. But he was a great talker in the car.

He told me about how he was recruited, what the training was like, and how the team controlled their diets.

“I’m not allowed şarkışla escort to eat off menu during the season. But the season’s over now, so I don’t have to eat meals planned by our dietician. I can take you out for a pie and pint if you want, or to one of those oyster bars in Poole or Bournemouth.”

“Oysters, eh? My boyfriend at university took me out for oysters. We shared a dozen but only four of them worked!” I joked.

He had the good grace to laugh before replying.

“That’s not a problem I have. I’m young. But you know that nothing is required, right? The club likes us to go to these events to raise the club’s profile. I’m honouring the deal because I’m an honourable man. But the cottage has two bedrooms. You don’t have to sleep with me or have sex with me — unless you want to.”

So, he’d said it. Sex. I knew I wanted to have sex with him. I could feel my knickers getting wet in anticipation. But I also knew enough to play it cool.

“Well, we’ll have to see, won’t we? Who knows if the owners will need to change one set of sheets or two.”

But I knew. Unless he really fucked up big time they’d only need to change one set of sheets.

I ran up the stairs as soon as he opened the door. I found the master bedroom, walked in and shouted down at him.

“I’m taking the side by the window and you can have the side by the door. Is that OK?”

He didn’t say anything. He just walked up the stairs and looked at me.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re wearing a wedding ring and an engagement ring. I don’t want to ruin your marriage.”

“Don’t worry, Marland. Paul and I discussed it. He’s happy for me to have sex with you. If you want to have sex with me, that is. Do you?”

“I’ve never had sex with a ballet dancer or a gymnast before. And now you present me the opportunity to do both. Of course!”

I sat down and took off my boots. Then I unbuckled my belt and started to unbutton my dress.

“Now?”

I looked at him and nodded.

“There’s no time like the present. And I’ve never had the opportunity to be fucked by a basketball player before. But now seems like a good time and I assume you can shoot to the back of the net!”

“You don’t know much about basketball do you? That’s a football thing. But don’t worry, I can fill you up.”

He’d also been unbuckling. As he dropped his jeans I saw what looked like one of those spacetime diagrams where a massive object distorts the path of light. Only this was a massive cock hidden by some tight white pants.

“Let me help you off with those.”

I reached over and gently pulled them down. Out flopped the biggest cock I’d seen outside of porn. I could see already that he’d be very thick. Longer than Paul, probably but hopefully not long enough to bruise my cervix.

I gently pulled his coal black foreskin back and looked at the pink head it hid. I kissed it. Then I stood back up and finished undressing.

I hadn’t worn knickers on the trip down but I did have him take off my bra. Then I lay down on the bed and told him to get me ready for what I anticipated would be the most intense penetration of my life.

I felt his locks under my hands as his tongue completed the work that had started on the drive down. But I let him work away because he really was a big boy and I knew I needed to be as wet as an otter’s pocket before his big cock could make its way inside me.

As he licked away, I dreamed of what it would be like to carry a mixed-race baby to raise with Paul. I dreamed of Paul pushing a buggy showing of our black baby in the park. I knew that if he offered to wear condoms I had to urge him to go bare.

“Swivel round. I want to suck you, too.”

He was big enough that he didn’t need to trim his pubes. I know some men do it to appear bigger but he didn’t need the help.

“You should go on top.” He said. “You’ll have control of how much you take and how fast.”

So we untangled ourselves, Marland lay down and I mounted him. Well, I tried to. It took time because of how thick he was but I did start to slide down him. Then I built a rhythm and rode him gently. I didn’t want this to be too frantic. I wanted it to take time. And I wanted to draw a huge load from him.

Eventually, I asked for a break and to get to lie down.

“You still have to go gentle, Marland. But let’s make this the last act before lunch. And don’t think of pulling out. Pulling out is for my husband, I want to feel you soak me with your cum, OK?”

He didn’t say anything, he just started ploughing me.

Once he got going, I submitted to the glory of penetration. It was amazing and I came at least twice. The kind where you sort of lose track of anything else. You just feel waves of pleasure washing through you.

Finally, he was ready. And I was in place. My hands were on his back and my legs were around his. He wasn’t getting away.

“Cum inside me, Marland. Fill me with your sperm!”

I felt his warmth spreading through me and it triggered another şarköy escort great orgasm. When I came too, Marland was still trapped, which is just how I wanted it.

“Do you want to get up?”

“No, I quite like lying here with your cock inside me.”

“You know we didn’t use a condom.”

“I know.” I grinned at him. “I hate them. I make my husband pull out.”

“You mean you’re not on the pill or something?”

“No, but don’t worry. My parents took ages to conceive and so did my sister. And this isn’t my fertile window.”

“And you’re comfortable with that?”

“I sure am. You don’t have to use a condom or pull out. You’ll have to work very hard indeed to get me pregnant.”

“Well,” and he grinned back. “I’ll have to work hard then, won’t I?”

We both laughed and eventually he pulled out and we showered together.

“Do you want to go out for dinner? There are some excellent restaurants near here and I am confident I can get us a table for two.”

“I didn’t really like the oysters. I don’t really like seafood. I have a very simple palette. We don’t have to go out. Can you eat pizza?”

And that’s how we spent a Friday night in front of the telly with pizza and several bouts of shagging. And every slice of pizza worked.

The rest of our long weekend was very similar. We showered a couple of times a day, ordered very simple meals from Deliveroo, and Marland pumped me full of sperm.

I sent Paul a 🍦 emoji after each bout to let him know I’d been inseminated. He had strict instructions not to text me back.

So when Marland dropped me off, just before midnight on Monday, I’d had a lot of his sperm in me. In fact, I still did because I’d worn some granny knickers for the drive back. The gusset would be soaked but I hadn’t washed Marland out of me. I’d just let his sperm slowly soak into the cotton.

“Can I go down on you?” Is how Paul greeted me as I walked through the door.

“Errr, Paul. I still have Marland’s cum inside me.”

“That’s what I was hoping. I’ve never gone down on anyone with cum inside them before.”

“Are you sure? It’s probably quite messy.”

Paul did a very good job of cleaning me up. He obviously wanted me to feel good about the weekend away.

“Jenny, if you ever do that again, please come back messy and spermed up like that. It was the best!”

I was wrong. Paul wasn’t trying to make me feel good. He really loved it. He’d enjoyed cleaning the last remnants of Marland’s sperm from me.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it love. You might not be surprised to know this but I’m completely fucked out. I need to climb into bed and sleep for a solid 12 hours.”

And that’s what I did.

“Paul, I think you and I were wrong.”

“About the kitchen tiles or the cupboards?” We were getting a new kitchen fitted.

“Neither, Paul. It’s not the kitchen, it’s me!”

“What?”

“What should be happening today, Paul?”

“I don’t know, what?”

“I should be on the third day of my period.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

“Do you want to go out and buy a test, or should I?”

Paul brought back three different brands and they all came back positive. I was pregnant with Marland’s baby.

“I told Marland. He said he’s very happy for us. I don’t think he was surprised. I only gave him just enough recovery time before demanding that he pump more sperm into me. But he doesn’t want to be involved.”

“I will be involved, though. I’m not going to walk out on you. In fact, I’ve been looking at designs for cribs.” And he shoved his iPad at me, showing a note with designs for rocking cribs, hanging cribs, and more.

“You really want to stand by me? You’re not upset?”

“Of course I will and of course I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I married you for you. I can’t abandon you just because your first or maybe second baby isn’t mine. Maybe none of them will be mine. But as long as you keep me as your husband, I’ll stay with you.”

“Second?”

“Well, you’ll have delivered before next year’s charity auction. Len will take full advantage of the ‘frisson’ you’ve given him. It’s possible that some other professional sportsman will want to buy you for a long weekend away.”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I’m half joking about the auction. But I’m serious about staying with you, even if you decide to have someone else father your second child. Like I said, it’s you I want. I don’t mind who fathers your children as long as you let me raise them with you.”

And that’s what Paul has done. He’s stood with me. He decorated the baby’s room and built a crib using one of those designs.

He took a call from Len shortly after we brought our new daughter home.

“Paul, look I know this might be a touchy subject but the annual charity dinner’s two month’s away.”

“Oh, you want us to buy tickets? Of course.”

“Thanks, Paul. That’s very generous of you. And…”

“Oh, and you want Jenny for the auction again?”

“Well, it’s up to you, of course. But last year’s auction raised so much money.”

“I suppose you’d better speak with Jenny, then.”

He handed me his phone.

“Hi Len. Tell me about what you have planned.”

“Well, you see, last year’s auction raised so much money. And that £5,750 price you brought in was almost twice what any of the others brought in. So, I was hoping you might agree to be auctioned again.”

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My Sister, My Slut Ch. 03

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Anal

NB: This chapter follows the previous two chapters of ‘My Sister, My Slut’. You might read them first for context. Comments and feedback are welcome, as always.

*****

Seven hells, it had happened. I’d made love to my sister, came in her, and now had her nakedness sprawled over the couch next to me. It was thrilling having sex with Jen: she was astonishingly beautiful with my cock deep within her and her skin flush with sex. I wouldn’t mind going at it again, I thought to myself. The incredible idea that we might make a regular habit of our incestuous coupling came to mind.

“That was fun.”

‘Hmm,” my sister replied.

Hmm… somewhat non-committal. Jen sat up, her brow creased – this boded poorly, I could just tell. Goodness gracious, she could be a fickle lass sometimes, a character trait I’d noticed many times growing up with her.

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

My dream of regular copulation looked fleeting.

“I don’t understand you, sis. First you want me, then you don’t. We make sweet, sweet love, and then you say we shouldn’t have.”

“I do want you, Alex – it’s just wrong that I do. You’re my brother, for God’s sake.”

“It’s just a bit of fun, that’s all. Nothing to feel all guilty about.”

“Just a bit of fun?” said my sister, crestfallen.

“Not a just a bit – a lot of fun! Hell, it was life-affirming sex. Divine.”

“Sinful, not divine.”

“Semantics, dear sister.”

My sister laughed and I breathed my relief. At that moment I heard the closing of car doors in the carport – our parents, returned!

“They’re back! Quick, get your clothes on.”

It was maybe ten metres from the car to the front door. I pulled up my pants, briefly catching my semi-flaccid cock in the zip, eliciting a howl. My sister already had her skirt on, so she grabbed her blouse then dashed up the stairs to her room, not bothering to button it up. I heard the key enter the lock; I had maybe ten seconds, so pulled my polo on and sat back on the couch, switching the TV to a commercial station. Late-night Turkish news, brilliant. The front door swang open and my parents entered the hallway.

“Hi Mum, hi Dad,” I called.

“Hi,” they replied, approaching the lounge room.

I noticed my sister’s discarded bra on the floor and grabbed it, my heart racing, tossing it behind the couch just as my mother poked her head in.

“Hi Alex. You’re up late watching TV,” she said, looking at the screen. “Learning Turkish?”

Goddamn. “I’m just channel surfing during an ad-break. How was your evening?”

“Enjoyable, even if the company was a little dull. Is Jenny home?”

“Yeah, in her room I think.”

I heard my parents walk down the hall to their room – we had managed to avoid detection that night, but it did highlight the risks of our forbidden lust: namely, being exposed, berated and potentially disowned. The risk of being caught with my cock in my sister’s cunny – maybe that was part of the appeal of incestuous fantasy, but in reality it would be devastating to our family. No doubt Jen’s fear of that outcome contributed to her seemingly capricious behaviour.

The following morning, Sunday, was our traditional day of sleeping-in. Even my parents would not rise until mid-morning. I awoke incredibly horny having spent my entire night dreaming of the previous day. My rational mind had determined that we’d need to be very discrete for the time being. After this week, well, we’d have an apartment to ourselves and be hundreds of kilometres from anyone who knew us. This presented exciting possibilities, but I needed to test the waters with my sister first. This meant more sex. To that end I woke shortly after dawn and slipped silently into her room.

My sister was in a short nightdress and although her room was dark I could still make out the enticing curves of her breasts and legs. I crossed the distance from the door to her bed, noted that her nightie had ridden up her legs as she slept, now barely covering her buttocks, and then crept onto her bed next to her, spooning her, my stiffness nestling against her butt. Jen stirred, still not fully awake, and her legs parted slightly, allowing me to position my cockhead against her slit, only the thin fabric of my cotton shorts between me and her. Putting one hand on her right breast, feeling out and circling her nipple, I began rubbing my erection against her. Already I could feel a moist spot form on my shorts, which I surreptitiously rubbed into her pussy lips.

“Ugh,” she moaned. “What’s going on?”

My sister awoke with my hot breath on the back of neck, the hardness of my cock rubbing along her cunny and my hand on her silk-covered tits. She tensed but did not push me away.

“What are you doing here, now?”

I continued playing with her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. They were hardening at my touch, poking against the diaphanous material.

“Enjoying you, that’s all. Mum and Dad won’t Alanya Sarışın Escort be up any time soon, I thought we could have some morning fun.”

“Sleep is morning fun,” she groaned.

“There’ll be time for that when we’re dead.”

“And we’ll be dead if Mum or Dad catches us.”

She rolled over and looked at me, her pale blue eyes bright even in the darkness. Her hand slipped down to my tented shorts, hooked under the elastic and pulled them down, freeing my cock. My sister took it in her hand, still watching my face just inches away – I could feel the warmth of her breath on my cheeks -, and began rubbing.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“This is a good start,” I said.

Jen was slow and deliberate; I could get used to this. Maybe it could be a morning ritual when we lived together interstate – an enticing thought if ever there were one! Idly I wondered if she’d given many hand jobs before, perhaps to fellow backpackers in Europe and SE Asia. Or would she have treated them to more? Not content merely to have my sister’s hands rubbing up and down my shaft, I thought up further baseness. I couldn’t explain why, but baseness and my sister seemed to go well together.

“You’re thinking dirty thoughts, aren’t you? Naughty boy.”

I scoffed, “What does that make you? A naughty girl? Or a very naughty girl?”

My sister smiled and her rubbing hastened. Pleasure was flowing from her hand up through my body, making my earlobes hot and my toes tingle. My rigid shaft was the conduit of this bliss. She was a virtuoso playing my instrument, possessed of a skill far exceeding my own in that respect; the irony that my sister could outclass me at jerking my own dick brought a wry smile to my lips.

“The naughtiest, of course.”

I was breathing fast now and knew it was only a matter of time before her hot little hand would bring forth the flood. The gyrating heat of our two bodies on her bed fanned the fire in my loins.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

I nodded. I wanted to last longer, I really did, but my eyes were locked to hers and my heart was racing and I couldn’t think straight any more, let alone contain the pressure rising within my depths. My sister had a terrible effect on me. Maybe it was seeing the girl I had shared my entire life with a woman now, her sensuous form so close to me; I could hear her dulcet childhood laughter in the songbirds’ morning verse. Or maybe it was the titillation as she twisted her hand softly, pulling up and down, electrifying the sensitive nerves in my member. Yet in the frantic energy of my need and her scintillating exertion, I felt tranquillity.

“That didn’t take long,” she said, her voice calling my consciousness forth from its idyllic depths.

“You’re good at what you do.”

My sister slowed and stopped, leaving me gasping like a fish out of water. The pressure abated, at least for now. She propped herself up on the bed and crawled down to my crotch before giving me a sultry glance, licking her lips and lowering her mouth to my shaft.

At first she took only the head, running the tip of her tongue along the little eyelet there. My sister’s mouth was warm and moist and heavenly. Then she lowered her mouth further, bobbing up and down until at last she had most of my length in her mouth. Each time she went further until she gagged and brought her head up, before trying again. I felt her hand at the base of my shaft, where it was tugging up and down gently. The combination of her mouth, tongue and fingers was glorious.

My sister had been hasty with her hand earlier, but now she was leisurely, not at all in a rush to make me cum. She was enjoying it, savouring me, licking and sucking on me as if an ice-cream. I watched her for a while, transfixed by her measured movements, then I lay my head back, closed my eyes and simply focussed on the rapturous sensations. Gradually her pace quickened and I could feel my orgasm approach. Soon she was taking me deep and fast, my cock pressing against the back of her throat for a brief instant before she would bob up again, gagging. It was a funny noise, the slurpy-gaggy-sloppiness but I couldn’t deny it was excellent oral.

“That feels amazing, sis,” I said as she used her free hand to cup my balls.

I could feel the heightened sensations that preceded orgasm.

“Let me taste your cum, little brother.”

That was all the encouragement I needed – how could I deny her, my goddess, my sister? My hips flexed, my glutes tensed and my cock started to spasm in her hot, wet mouth. My cum flooded forth and I watched hungrily as she took my incestuous seed within her mouth, some dribbling from her lips down my shaft. I came and came, spurting what felt like a torrent of white creamy ejaculate into my eager sister’s mouth, where still I could feel her tongue at the tip of my cock, teasing out further drops. Slowly I subsided, the tension left my body and I fell Alanya Şişman Escort back into a wondrous dream-like state, this forbidden nirvana. My eyes devoured the captivating sight before me: my sister, her golden locks catching the bright dawn light through the blinds, her skin glowing, blushed, her lips shining with the gloss of my cum. She held my cock in one hand, her delicate, slender fingers wrapped around it, with the other gently caressing my balls. Kneeling on the bed, smiling, she tipped her head back and swallowed. I gasped, or maybe I was silent – at this point I knew not; I had surrendered to sybaritic oblivion. The pure eroticism of seeing her swallow – not spit, but to willingly take her brother’s salty-bitter seed into her mouth and swallow! I could have almost orgasmed again. In the aureate radiance of sunrise, my sister moved forward, crawling over me, and then lowered her lips to mine. I could taste my seed on her lips and tongue, residue of our taboo deed.

Finally our lips parted. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in close for a hug, delighting in having her pressed against me. Then I manoeuvred on top of her and pushed the silky fabric off her breasts so that I could lower my lips to her collarbone and kiss a trail down to her nipples. I wanted to return the favour, but honestly it was my lust that drove me as much as any noble sense of gratitude or duty; I wanted to taste and feel my sister’s nubile body. Her intimate, erogenous flesh was now open to me like Aladdin’s magic cave. Open sesame, I whispered.

“That feels nice,” she said as I kissed down her breasts over her taught stomach to her Mons pubis.

I raised her nightdress above her hips to give me access to her cunny, but did not target there immediately. Instead, I kissed around her inner thighs. She wiggled and gyrated her hips. I treated her to teasing brushes of my lips on her bare skin and the occasional lick, letting my hands wander over her. So close to her, I could feel her musk in my nostrils, drawing my attentions to her puffy pink lips, affecting me like pheromones. I was going on instinct, not experience, but my sister was responding well to the insinuation of my tongue into her folds, the tip of my nose rubbing against the top of her pussy. My saliva mixed with her juices and I started licking her clit, which prompted the involuntary tensing and relaxing of her thighs as I began spelling the alphabet onto her firm little button. My sister’s cunny had an interesting flavour, a little tangy, but pleasant.

“Christ, you’re good at this. To have my brother eat me out!”

I redoubled my efforts, bringing a finger to rub her slit before slipping into her tight, moistening pussy. My sister liked using those words; I could tell that the taboo-ness of our incestuous passion aroused her as much as it aroused me, as if the more explicit our words the fainter the fearful reality of our transgressions. I curled and uncurled my finger inside her, still sucking, licking and kissing her engorged clit.

“Ohh, fuck. That’s great,” she moaned.

Pushing another finger into her folds, I straddled her, blessing her perky nipples with kisses and soft suckling, all the while plundering her wetness with eager thrusting digits. Jenny’s pussy was tight around my fingers and slick with lust. My cock was hardening again at the thought of entering her as my sister’s panted and moaned. Soon I felt the sudden twitching and contracting around my digits and saw her abdomen tense. Her fingers were in my hair.

We lay together for a while, our hot, contented bodies close, watching as light filled the room. Then I rose, dressed and stole a quick kiss. We each tasted of the other. Back in my own bed I smiled and fell easily into sleep.

*

“Come on sleepy-heads,” called our mother from the foot of the stairs. “Breakfast!”

I looked over at the clock – 10am, a couple hours of shut-eye since my earlier activities. At breakfast I faced my family, cautious that I should not reveal any of what had happened in the past 24 hours. Can parents sense things by intuition? Perhaps less well than they think, for though I felt the heat in my cheeks as I ate, the earth did not crack open and swallow me whole, nor did I taste my parents’ wrath. Jen was vibrant, a charming contrast to the dark uneasiness I felt as I watched her, although subtle hints in the creasing of the brow and faint flecks of fear in those brilliant blue eyes suggested that, at the least, she was still of two minds.

After breakfast, I pushed my concerns to one side and busied myself with preparing for my move interstate. One can tell a story from the odd collection of things that spill forth from a desk as it is emptied. Here, some exercise books from high school. There, a partially broken mobile phone. Old birthday cards, this one from Mum, another from a friend, and here, in my sister’s flowing script a card from my eighteenth, my seventeenth, my sixteenth years of siblinghood Alanya Sınırsız Escort captured on cheap supermarket-bought cards.

As is often the case with cleaning processes, I found myself stalled, distracted and unproductive after a few minutes. My hands moved idly and my mind could not focus – how could a mind focus when the past weekend had been so odd, so lusty and so unavoidably forbidden? My childhood possessions spread before me, I felt once again like a child who, having broken his father’s prized model car, waits trembling, his heart palpitating, an energy-draining sickness in the bottom of his gut. He knows his crime will be discovered soon. He knows that the heavy, angry thuds on the stairs presage his doom. And he knows that, if he had his time again, he would not have played with the toy forbidden him. Yet I wasn’t so sure. Being with my sister made me feel whole, not broken. Did she feel the same?

*

The day slipped away as it is wont to do while we mortals squat in the dirt and pick and peck at our mortal possessions and each other and fill our minds with temporal distraction. My room was mostly cleared. I had moved years of clutter from my desk to my mind, where the oddest memories would strike me with pangs of humiliation and regret. How strange that we should remember our most trivial errors so acutely and that these thoughts still bear their sharp edge, while years of happiness fade into the haze. All things are ephemeral – but, of the emotions, shame and regret live longest.

My melancholy was dispelled over the evening meal by my sister’s presence; such has often been her effect on me, and for many a season before this. She was the cool balm, the calming elixir, to inward tumult. Yet even that happy thought could not go un-accosted by my cynicism: if she was the cure, she was only the cure to the disease of my lust for her – and, in this light, no more a cure than another hit of heroine is for an addict. Oh, unhappy mind! The gods were pulling me this way and that like a puppet. My Apollonian years of secondary schooling were ended and Eros was ascendant.

“You seem distracted this evening, Alex,” said my mother.

“Humph. Thinking about the move, that’s all.”

“I remember leaving home when I was your age. You get used to it. Besides, you’ll have Jen there with you. That’ll be fun, won’t it?” said Dad.

Jen rolled her eyes and feigned protest. “Ew!”

“Thanks for that, sis. I look forward to it too.”

My mother laughed, although I think she was a bit sad about me and Jen moving out. After dinner I went to my sister’s room on the pretext of helping with packing.

“Strong progress, sis,” I said sarcastically as I surveyed the carnage.

She scowled and turned toward the wardrobes. Her room was a mess. Dresses, tees, jeans, socks, books – everything – were spread randomly across the bed and floor. Two large suitcases were each half filled, although I couldn’t really determine why some things were in one suitcase and not the other. A couple of boxes of personal effects lay on the floor at the end of the bed. I noticed a couple of polaroid-style photos from a photo-booth of Jen and her French ex, Luke, in one.

“Luke’s coming with us?”

“What?”

She turned and looked at the photo I was holding and frowned.

“He was nice, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re here to help me pack, how about you grab the box up the top there instead of passing commentary,” she said, pointing to the top of her wardrobe.

“Think you’ll be ready for Tuesday?” I asked as she started emptying its contents onto the floor. Some athletics trophies from high school and a recorder.

“Think you’re ready to shut it?” she retorted.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“You, for a start.”

“Well, at least you already know what I’m packing.”

Jen relented, smiling briefly. She was, however, focused on the job at hand and sent me back to my room since I wasn’t helping. There I considered the following day. We each had going away drinks with our friends in the evening. I wondered if my friends would notice anything different about me, but sex doesn’t really change one’s appearance, even if it is incestuous. Although I’d initially been very disappointed that none of my school friends would be moving interstate with me, it occurred to me that in light of recent events, it may be for the best.

Monday came and went and Tuesday began. Our parents had arranged to get to work later in the morning so that they could see us off. I hadn’t had much to drink the previous evening, so I woke bright and sharp and put a final couple of things into the car. Of course, we weren’t taking all our possessions interstate with us and we’d back home at the end of the semester, so I was amazed by the quantity of stuff that my sister had packed into the hatchback. She rose a bit later and we had our last family breakfast for the near future.

I was eager to hit the road, but as my sister jumped into the passenger seat Dad pulled me aside. I recognised his stern fatherly expression, the kind reserved for special occasions.

“You look after you sister, Alex. Okay? And don’t get up to anything too naughty. I don’t want to hear any complaints from the landlord or the university.”

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