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Falling for Jennifer

By: Hot_Sister



 Falling for Jennifer

 All characters in this story are imaginary and bear no resemblance to persons living or dead. All are over the age of 18.

*****

I never meant to catch my sister naked. It was an accident, one of those moments when you are walking along, minding your own business, and then suddenly - wham! - it happens. 

I had arrived home early and I put the car keys on the hall table and walked through to my bedroom. The house is 'L' shaped, and as I moved down the carpeted hallway I looked to my left, as you do, down the corridor. The bathroom door was open and she was stood at the sink, her back to the door, as naked as the day she came into the world. 

Jenny is a tall girl, probably about five-ten and she's slim - good proportions, if you know what I mean. She was bent over the sink doing something with her hair and her legs were splayed out a little to get her down to the height she wanted without having to bend her knees. It was an arresting sight, I can tell you: long shapely legs, firm and well toned, and impossibly long - they just seemed to go on for ever, up and up, each thigh a model of perfection until they reached the neatest little ass I've ever seen. It was firm and round, each cup-cake buttock beautifully defined...just begging to be grasped - framed by the flare of her hips and the tight curve of her waist. The flesh of her back was as smooth as alabaster, a sort of creamy-white colour, marked only by the faint outline of where her bra-straps had been. Her head was down, hidden behind her shoulders, and the sound of running water drowned out my little gasp of surprise. 

I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes glued to the view. I guess my mouth dropped open too - in shock and surprise. Shock because one moment I'd been thinking about work and the next I had this vision in front of me, only a dozen paces away. Surprise because I'd lived in the same house as Jen for years and never realised just what she had hiding under the jeans and baggy sweaters she liked to wear. It was like finding you had a pile of money under the floor that you never knew you had. 

I don't know how long I stood there, gawping at her. Long enough to pick up the little details: the thin gold chain around one shapely ankle: the dimples behind her knees; the smooth olive warmth of her skin, good enough to eat; the little curve under each buttock that defined their roundness, and the neat little crease above them where the crack of her bum began. Best of all though, was the sight of her little pussy peeping back at me from between the cheeks of her ass as she bent forwards. It was in shadow but I was close enough to see it clearly, hiding like a little furry animal in a cave with a few wisps of hair around it, as fine a spun gold - testimony to the fact that she was a genuine blonde.

She must have sensed my gaze, as I stood there staring at her. She stopped all movement and was still for a moment, listening, and then she pushed herself up and turned her head slowly, her eyes peering backwards through the little gap between the smooth skin of her waist and one her arms. For a moment she was motionless, her eyes on my face. I felt the hot flush of embarrassment staining my cheeks at being caught - but I just couldn't move: and then she stood up slowly and turned towards me - just standing there, front on. Her breasts were bigger than I had imagined, sitting firm and upright on her ribcage, the nipples thick and protruding. Her pussy hair was neatly trimmed back and the lips of her vulva were slightly open, revealing a gleam of pink wetness behind them; and her hair was wet, a dark blonde, lying around her face as she regarded me. 

For a long time we stared at each other. Her eyes were grey and steady, neither embarrassed nor angry. She allowed them to roam over me - moving over my body slowly, resting on my crotch for a few moments before sliding back to my face. I could see a gleam of amusement in them, an awareness of the sudden impact she had made on me, and her mouth curled slightly in the faintest of a smile: her teeth so white behind the softness of her lips. I caught the sound of her chuckle: a throaty little laugh that promised almost as much as the sight of her body had - and then she leaned forward and quite slowly and deliberately closed the door, shutting out the best thing I'd seen in a decade. 

*****

I was reading a book in the lounge and the words were a shapeless blur. My mind was filled with the vision I had just seen... the golden skin, the teardrop breasts and her little furry pussy - and the calm grey of her eyes as she watched me looking at it. Pink Wet. Slightly open. And all this time she had been living with me and I had never noticed. Ah, God, how can a day change so much? 

I heard her footsteps on the tiles in the kitchen and she walked in. Her hair was still damp, but tied back in a little pony tail that lay across the vivid blue material of her blouse like a strip of gold bullion. I looked up at her guiltily. 

"I'm...sorry, Jen. I - I didn't know you were there. I was surprised."

She stopped and looked down at me. "You sure took your time being surprised."

I was silent, not knowing what to say. 

"Well, what have you got to say?"

"I've said I'm sorry."

She leaned forward a little. "Sorry for what, David, for catching me, or for standing there for half an hour perving when you did?"

I stared up at her. She was still looking at me, her eyes bright. "I wasn't perving."

She laughed. "Well, you sure gave a good impression of a perve." She turned her head on the side and fixed a glassy look on her face, poking her tongue out of the side of her mouth for a moment in an expression of imbecilic attention. "Just like that, David, for half an hour. I surprised you didn't drown in the drool that was sliding down your chin."

I laughed with her. "I wish it had been half an hour. Anyway, its your fault."

"Me? How's that?"

"Well, you looked - um, I mean, well - you were worth looking at. Now, if you'd been ugly I'd have moved right on along."

"So you're saying that you liked what you saw."

I looked her in the face. "Sure."

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much did you like what you saw?"

"I don't know what you mean."

She laughed again. "Sure you do...in fact, I saw how much you liked it... a lot, judging by the reaction. A huge amount." 

I felt myself colouring again. "So why are you asking me, if you already know?"

"Just checking." She turned away but stopped by the door and looked at me again. "It was a perve, you know. Now you owe me." And before I could answer she had gone in a flurry of skirt, leaving a trace of her perfume and a disturbing memory of that long, golden body. 

Over the next few weeks our relationship, if you could call it that, returned to normal. We both work so we were doing our own thing, only bumping into each other from time to time. Nothing in what she said or did gave a hint of what had happened and the busy tempo of our lives gradually pushed it to the background. At times I would dwell on what I had seen - mostly at night when I lay in bed and played the tape in my head again - but the clarity of the image gradually diminished. I never really connected it with going further, either: we were sister and brother, and siblings just didn't do that. It had been a pleasurable few moments of my life, and time had moved on. 

I guess it would have died altogether, like a faded photograph that is finally thrown in the trash, had she not come by my room that day. It was stinking hot: one of those heavy, oppressive days when the air is as thick as a wet sponge. The usual thunderclouds had built up in the afternoon and hung in the western sky in towering castles of lead and pewter, but the rain that everyone begged for still had not come. You could almost feel the oppressive air crushing down on the town, robbing everyone of energy. All you wanted to do was to lie down. 

I had left early and I stripped off and lay on my bed with my eyes shut listening to the occasional growl of thunder to the west and feeling the trickle of sweat on my skin. The house was quiet - no dogs barking, no shrilling cicadas - not even the swish of traffic on the freeway three blocks away. It was as if the world had stopped and I was the only survivor, lying in my bed in a stupor with my eyes shut, dreaming of air conditioning. I could hear the muffled tick of the old grandfather clock in the hallway and then the faint clunk of its mechanism as it reached the hour and prepared to chime: the crisp click of the gearing, lifting the hammer, drawing it back...and then the first chime, too loud to be through a closed door: and I opened my eyes and saw her. 

Jen had opened the door and moved silently across the room to stand next to the bed. She was leaning forward slightly, her weight balanced on one foot as if ready to flee and she was dressed only in a sleeveless sports top and panties. I could see the gleam of perspiration on her skin and the hair at her temples was discoloured with sweat, darker than its normal shade of pale honey. Her breasts were full and round, pushing against the material of her top, and I could discern the outline of her nipples against the weave of the cloth and the dark shadow of her aureole around them. The thin fabric of her pants was stretched tightly over her mound, the filigree lace delicate against the golden tan of her skin. She held her head at a slight angle, looking down at my nakedness as if puzzled by what she saw, and there was an expression of guilt on her face, like that of a little girl reaching out to steal a cookie.

She must have known I was aware if her, but she didn't look at my face. She turned a little, almost sideways on so that I could see the swell of her ass filling the white lace panties, and the curtain of her hair dropped forward to hide her expression. She was very close to me. The film of sweat on her skin gleamed in the pale light from the window; and I could see the fine golden down on her arms and in the crack of her ass just above the elastic of her knickers. I could smell her, too: the fragrance of her perfume, overlaid with more powerful aromas: salt and sweat and the faint musk of excitement. She bent forward a little more as if to inspect me closer, and the elastic leg of her panties moved over the curve of her buttock to reveal a crescent of firm flesh - and beyond it the dark shadow of her crotch with the tight gusset of her pants snug between the golden thighs. 

I visualized what was behind that strip of damp fabric: the plump lips that I had seen before, but now wet with the heat and perhaps open a little wider than before... and the tight little orifice behind it, crimped and snug between the fragrant cheeks of her ass. I imagined the dampness there - the press of her wet flesh against the material, the leak of her juices into the weave of the fabric, as sweet as fresh honey. My cock grew hard quickly, moving silently over my belly to stand proud, bobbing slightly as she watched. The head distended and swelled, purple against the pale skin of my belly, and a drop of clear lubricant dribbled from the tip like a pearl against the darker hue of arousal. 

For a few moments more she watched it, her body quite motionless, and then she stretched out her hand and touched me with the tip of one finger, resting it gently against the heated flesh of my rod. I could feel the pressure of her fingertip against the base of my shaft; and then, ever so gently, she drew it slowly along my full length until it reached the very tip. My cock lurched in response and a fresh trickle of lubricant escaped from the end, oozing against the tip of her finger, stringing out in a fine thread of silver as she lifted her hand away. Almost without thinking she pressed it to her lips and the tip of her tongue dabbed the shiny wet pad, and then, as if suddenly realising what she had done, she turned away and almost ran to the door. 

She stopped there and turned towards me. "Now we're quits, David," she said, but her voice was gusty and uncertain. 

I said nothing. I didn't need to. She could read it in my face and I saw her confusion. She turned again and ran down the corridor towards the sanctuary of her room to shut out the lust in my eyes. 

I suppose that was the moment I stopped thinking about her as my sister - I figured she had moved beyond the normal relationship when she stroked my cock and tasted my pre-cum. She was fair game now and it was clear to me that I wasn't the only one enjoying it, for I had seen the flash of her little white panties as she ran with a dark stain of her desire at the crutch. 

I seized my cock and stroked it, imagining how she would straddle me and lower herself onto my straining rod. I knew how tight she would be how she would move, and I could feel the cloying heat of her cunt and the tight rhythmic undulation of her hips. I imagined how she would look as I stared up at her face: her mouth open, lips slack and wet and her hair moving languorously back and forth as we fucked; and I could feel the satin of her thighs either side of my hips and the press of her hands on my chest to steady herself. My hand gripped harder, flying along the shaft, feeling the inexorable spiral of pleasure until that one tremulous instant where I was balanced on the very edge of time: and then I spurted. A groan of intense pleasure burst from my lips and great streams of thick, steaming jism burst from the head, desperate to be inside my sister's body but finding only the skin of my belly on which to land. 

And immediately afterwards, as I lay in my hot little room panting with the effort of my exertions, I thought I heard furtive footsteps back away from my still open door and then the soft click of a latch as she locked herself in her bedroom. I wondered if she had watched me spurting and known who was the subject of my lust. 

I wondered if she would soon be doing what I had just done, and I ached to be with her. 

*****

One morning when Mum was out I let myself silently into the bathroom, desperate to see her again. Jen was in the shower and the room was filled with steam, fragrant with the smell of soap and shampoo. I sat on the toilet and watched. I could see the pale blur of her body through the wet glass and hear her singing, and although I couldn't see much the thought of her wet naked body only a few feet away had a powerful effect on me. My cock stiffened in response. 

There was a scrap of material lying on the mat and I stooped to pick it up, the material thin and filmy in my fingers: it was her panties, still warm from her body, and I turned them over in my hand and pressed the gusset to my face, remembering when they had been filled by her curves and hidden valleys...and how I had fantasized about her aroma trapped in the weave of the fabric. I breathed in and it was there, faint but unmistakable - the smell of my sister's pussy. The musk of her sex was captured in the threads of material just I had envisaged, and it filled my senses. 

The shower shut off and I hurriedly stuffed them in my shirt pocket and I waited with my heart hammering in my chest. She had draped her towel over the top of the screen and I saw her hand appear and take it, the fingers slim and delicate, and then I heard her voice. 

"Is that you, David?"

"Yes....how did you know?"

She laughed. "I felt the draft when you opened the door. Don't ever think of becoming a burglar." She paused, then in a more curious tone: "What are you doing?"

"Waiting to see you naked."

"You've been there five minutes...haven't you seen enough?"

"I couldn't see anything," I admitted. "The room was all steamed up."

She laughed again. "Yeah. I bet it wasn't the hot water that was causing it, either, you pervert. All that heavy breathing...not good for you, David. You'll hyperventilate and fall over." The shower door suddenly slid back and she stepped out, the towel wrapped around her. "So, her I am, big brother. You've seen me now - are you satisfied?" She was smiling, clearly delighted by the thought I had been cheated of my goal. 

"That's not fair. You got to see me."

"That was payback - we were quits remember? This is blatant escalation, coming in here -" she suddenly broke off, her eyes narrowing on my chest. "What's that in your pocket?"

I glanced down. A fold of filmy material was poking out, the lace edging clearly visible. "Uh, where -"

"There." She darted forward and tried to snatch them out of my pocket but my hand beat her to it, squishing them against my chest. She struggled to unclasp my fingers but after a moment gave up. 

"Give them to me, David."

"Nope."

"They're mine."

"I found them. Finders keepers."

"What are you going to do with them?" She was angry now. 

"Oh, I don't know. Pin them on my wall...take them to work. Maybe I'll just sniff them -"

"That's disgusting!" She regarded me for a moment. "Give them back, David."

"Say please."

"No! Give them to me."

"Ah-ah. Be nice - say please."

She glowered at me. "Please."

"You'll have to do something for me."

"Like what?"

I pretended to think for a moment. "Oh, I don't know...wash my car or do all my ironing for a week...or you could drop the towel."

"You've seen it."

"Not this week. And I get to touch, like you did."

"No! No touching."

I regarded her. "Well, that's not fair, but OK. Just to look, then."

She stared at me a moment with anger still in her eyes, and then she sort of shrugged a little and stepped back, undoing the towel as she did. "Promise me you won't touch."

"I won't." My voice was scratchy with excitement. 

"OK - well....there!" She dropped the towel and it pooled at her feet. She was enjoying her power over me.

For the second time in a month I saw my sister stark naked, but this time it was better. I was closer, for one thing - only two or three feet away - close enough to see everything. Not a wrinkle or sag marked her body - it was exquisite, fashioned by a craftsman in long, flowing curves, each complementing the other in perfect proportion. Her breasts were full and round, the flesh a pale milky colour - almost translucent under the glare of the bathroom light. I could see the fine web of veins under the skin, radiating outwards from the dusky pink of her aureole, and her nipples were erect - hard little nubs of flesh like soldiers at attention, betraying her excitement. She loved the attention, the acknowledgement of her beauty. She could have anybody but she wanted to show me. 

My eyes roamed over her body like the touch of a lover, lingering on the curves and valleys, past the swell of her hips and sliding over the flat plain of her belly, still damp from the shower, to where her pussy waited. The last time I had seen it there was a little crown of hair above it, neatly trimmed to look like an arrow pointing downwards; now there was nothing. It was shaven clean, her cleft smooth and pink, the lips of her vulva neatly arranged either side. My eyes fastened on it, imagining in an instant how tight it would be and how the clasp of her thighs would feel as they drew me into her centre. She shifted under my gaze and the movement caused her labia to open a touch, the flesh inside her clean and pink and moist. I let out a little sigh. 

"OK, buster," she said. "Now pick your tongue up off the floor and give me back my panties."

I pulled them from my pocket, my eyes still fixed on her pussy, and I flicked them to the far side of the room. They fell in a little pile of liquid silk against the closed door. 

I looked up at her face. The anger had gone and her expression was inscrutable, but there was a gleam of amusement in her eyes together with other emotions...power, perhaps, and mischief, and also excitement. For a moment longer she stood in front of me, her eyes on mine: and then, quite deliberately, she turned her back on me and bent over to pick them up.


Falling for Jennifer Ch. 02



I had not originally intended a second chapter to this story, but a number of readers suggested that many of the details omitted from the first part should be explained. So, here it is. It can be read in isolation from Chapter 1, or as an extension to it. There will not be a third chapter - I have other stories in mind. 

Please note that this work contains descriptions of explicit oral and vaginal sex between consulting adults. If any of that offends you, please don't bother to read it. 

Everyone in this story who is engaged in any sort of sexual conduct is over the age of 18. 

 Falling For Jennifer. Ch 02 

Prologue. August 2011 

Jennifer Elizabeth Robertson stared out of the window, her grey eyes seemingly fixed on the far end of the garden where the tumbledown shed sagged against the fence, partially obscured by the tangle of brambles and hawthorn. Aside from herself the house had been empty for a year or so and it was quiet in the sunlit kitchen in which she stood, apart from the thin cries of children playing at the local school and the low grumble of earth moving equipment two streets down. 

Her mind was on the envelope lying on the kitchen table behind her. She recalled the many addresses scribbled on its face as people redirected it, and wondered how it had ever reached her. She remembered the body blow in her chest when she recognized who it was from, and how she had carefully propped it up against the sugar bowl whilst she went about her chores, delaying the moment when she would open it because she wasn't sure if the growl of excitement in her belly was greater or less than the sense of dread of what it might say. Twice she had gone to fling it in the bin but on each occasion she had stopped, aware that not knowing what was inside would be infinitely worse than knowing. 

She gave a little sigh and turned away from the window, her eyes scanning the little kitchen that seemed to be her world now. The morning dishes were already washed and put away and her laundry was out in the pale winter sunshine to dry. Her bed was made and the house dusted and there was really nothing to stop her from opening the letter and reading it, other than her own hesitation. She could hear the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking, ticking, reverberating though the old wooden floors and infiltrating her thoughts like a stentorian heartbeat pulsing in the silence of the house. With a sudden sense of dread she imagined it to be his heart and that each beat consumed a little of what was left, and if she waited too long it would wind down and stop - and she would never see him again. 

It was the motivation Jen needed, and she sat down and picked up the envelope. It was thin and cheap and stained by the dust and dirt of its journey across the country, but the handwriting was clear and firm and confident. She turned it over in her hand and slipped a finger under the flap, tearing it open to retrieve the single sheet of paper, and she saw that it had only a few lines written upon it. 

Hey Jen,

They say that blood is thicker than water, which may be why we battle our own with more energy and gusto than we would ever expend on strangers. Now time and distance have made me a stranger too, so perhaps the battle has moved on? I hope so.

Isn't it time now, my heart? Can't we at the very least be friends?

Call me. 

David. 

(dgriffiths9@hotmail.com)

Taped below the words was a scrap of material of faded blue. Jen touched the silken threads and the frayed lace edging with her fingertips and she remembered it even after all of these years, just as he had known she would. 

In the little kitchen of her cramped and silent house she clasped the tattered fragment of her past and her mind whirled back to another time - of long sunny days of dreams and laughter when they were young and carefree, when they thought the good times would never end. 

And she rested her head in her hands and she remembered. 

November 2000

"I just don't know what's got into you two this morning!" 

Jen could see that her mother was put out - not really angry, but clearly miffed by what she saw as odd behavior with no apparent reason. She liked her life to be ordered and when something happened without any explanation she was perplexed by it. 

"I don't know what you mean, Mum." Jen tried hard not look at David, who was sitting opposite her at the little kitchen table. He was pulling a face that his mother couldn't see because she was behind him, and Jen was trying not to laugh but it didn't work. She felt her lips twitching and hurriedly turned the giggle into a cough.

"There you go again!" Katherine Griffith's eyes were icy blue. "You're possessed, the pair of you! If I didn't know better I'd say you were up to no good." She turned and stomped back to the sink before firing a final shot. "And when you and your brother have control of yourselves - if you ever do - then bring your dirty dishes and wash them up!" 

Jen didn't care. It was as if she was on a high, soaring into the dizzy, rarefied air of elation where everything she perceived was crisp and clean and sharp. She could still taste David on her lips and under her dressing gown she could smell exactly what they had been up to - the musky odour of his semen blended with her own juices, drying on the satin skin of her thighs. She glanced at him. He had stopped clowning and was gazing at her, his blue eyes soft like a puppy's. She saw how his hair curled softly at the collar of his shirt and how the breadth of his chest filled it, and she remembered the rubbery feel of his muscles as she clasped him, crying out in the night at what he was doing to her. She felt her vulva open at the memory, releasing a little of what he had inserted there last night. 

She shot him a warning glance as their mother turned again, her voice still shrill. 

"And where were you this morning, David? Your work phoned at seven, looking for you to come in and when I knocked on your door you weren't there!"

"Er - it's Saturday. I went for a run this morning, Mum. Do you think they still want me?"

She shook her head in exasperation. "Don't bother! The manager said he'd call up someone else to come in. I thought you were trying to save a little money."

David nodded, his eyes on his sister. At seven that morning he'd still been in her bed, her naked and exhausted body curled around his. It was a good job his mother hadn't gone the extra ten paces and looked in Jen's room. He saw that she had had the same thought, her face paling at what might have happened had they been caught. 

"Are you listening to me, young man?!"

"Er, yes, Mum. Yes, I am trying to save money, but I can't be everywhere at once. Sometimes there are more important things to do." He looked at his sister again, remembering the vigor of their lovemaking and he was seized by a need to be reckless. "I needed the exercise and I feel much better for having it," he said with a straight face. Jen was looking away, her expression stricken. 

"Well, perhaps you could leave a note or something... I felt a fool having to tell him I didn't know where you were."

David imagined the sort of note he would have had to leave. 'Dear Mum. Please don't disturb me as I am fucking Jen in her room. Love, David.' The thought triggered another memory - his sister kneeling on the rumpled bed with her legs askew, the twin globes of her ass as pale as alabaster in the moonlight and the crevice between them in mysterious shadow as he thrust into her. He felt his cock harden and he looked across the table, wanting to hold her again. He couldn't imagine getting through the whole day without being inside her again. 

"Well," his mother said. "I can't stop around here all day - I'm out with Gladys this morning." She dried her hands on a tea towel and regarded her children with glittering eyes. "Do you think you'd be able to do your chores this morning, or are you so daft as to be completely useless?" She undid her apron and hung it on the hook by the fridge. "I'll be back about twelve." She made it sound like a deadline. 

The two sat looking at each other until the door slammed, and then Jen rose to her feet and practically ran the three steps to his chair. She straddled him, her hands on his face and her lips at his, laughing into his mouth, touching his hair. 

"God I can't believe she didn't catch us! We are so stupid, David -" she could feel his hands sliding inside her gown, pushing it open to touch her breasts. Her nipples were hard already, like ripe gooseberries in his palms. "We have three whole hours -"

"I want you again, Jen." His mouth was on her neck, lips caressing the soft skin under her ears. "I can't get enough of you."

She leaned back, her arms around his neck to steady herself. Her gown was open and her thighs were either side of his. She could feel the coarse material of his jeans pressing against her sex, and she could feel the heat of wanting in her belly. "Well, here I am, David, so take me...where are you?"

He reached down and opened his zip, drawing himself out with difficulty. Jen stood up to give him a little room, watching as his cock appeared. It was rock hard, the glans thick and purple and angry. He held it upright and she moved forward and engaged herself on it, feeling the head pressing against the swollen lips of her pussy and she held herself there, poised above him.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Mister?" her eyes were twinkling with mischief and desire.

He groaned at the silken touch of her labia, but held still. "God, yes! Put it in."

"You won't die from lack of blood to the brain?" 

"I'll die if you don't put it in." 

"Let me check if you're ready." She reached down and seized the shaft, gripping it near the base between her forefinger and thumb. "Hmmm. Is that you, David, or did you drop a rolling pin in your lap?" She giggled and moved her fingers, rubbing the tip against herself, leaving a smear of silver on the purple flesh of his knob. 

"Put it in...Put it in." He was panting.

"Tut, tut!! You boys are always in such a hurry." She eased forward and down, peering between her legs to watch the head slip inside her, and she drew her hand away. "Is that better?" 

"Ah, yes! Now deeper!"

"Ah-ah. Not so fast. Let him play at the doorway for a while." She flexed her thighs, jiggling up and down a little so that just the head of his cock slipped in and out of her with soft slurping noises. "It's nice to play a little...don't you agree?"

"Yes...oh, God yes. Shit, that's good! You've no idea how good that feels, Jen." He put his hands around her waist, feeling the warmth of her body and the way she moved as she impaled herself on him. Both of them were looking down at the point of their union, watching how his glans appeared and disappeared. It was coated with the thick white discharge of their juices and the soft sucking sound of her flesh added to their pleasure. 

Jen lowered herself further and grunted as his cock penetrated her more deeply, pushing aside the tender flesh of her vagina to reach up towards her belly. A sunbeam was streaming in through the little window, falling on them like a spotlight on an erotic act in a show. She could see motes of dust suspended in the air like specks of matter exploding from the intensity of her feelings for him. She observed the glints of red and copper in his hair, and the way his skin was burnished almost gold in its ethereal light. She rested her fingertips on his face, tracing the lines of pleasure and emotion, and she saw the warm curve of his mouth and the glint of his teeth behind the soft lips. A wave of almost unbearable emotion flooded through her. 

"I love you." She said softly. "I love you so much."

David laughed. "You didn't say that a week ago." He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her nipple, teasing it with his lips. 

"I didn't love you a week ago."

He looked up at her face feigning surprise "Really? Shucks, you had me fooled. Every time I saw your pussy it was wringing wet."

"That didn't mean I loved you. I was just...horny."

"And now you love me," David said. He had closed his eyes, savoring the delicious slide of his cock into the tight warmth of his sister's body. He thought that he loved her too, but he didn't want to tell her so he tried to be lighthearted. "And I bet you say that to all the boys," he said. 

Jen felt the sting of his words but they were drowned out by the intensity of their lovemaking. She hunkered down and rotated her hips a little as she engulfed him, delighting in the groan of satisfaction it drew from his lips. 

"No," she whispered to herself. "No, I don't. It's only you."

***** 

They both thought that that hot, passionate summer would last forever. Hot nights, lying in her bed playing, playing; sharing kisses like drizzled honey, the warmth and elasticity of her flesh and the rigid hardness of his... slotting together, crafted for one another. So much sperm, pumping, pumping, spraying into her body; and then the slow drip of their juices into the weave of the sheets, staining the linen so that Jen feared her mother would notice and took to washing them herself. The feeling of bruised flesh; the rash on her face from his unshaven chin. The long slow exhaustion of each day, buoyed by the certain knowledge of the illicit pleasure to be drawn from one other each night. Whispering, whispering, terrified of discovery but helpless to resist. 

They were seized by a kind of madness and took incredible chances, barely waiting for the click of the door latch behind their mother before falling on each other. At first their bodies were the source of mystery but as time went by they gradually became familiar places - the hills and secret valleys intimately explored, sources of endless gratification. Each learned the ways of the other: where to touch and what to do to prolong the intensity, to hold back the pinnacle of their pleasure for a while longer to allow it to build like a monstrous tsunami until it came crashing down, sweeping them away in a torrent of almost unbearable ecstasy. She saw how his eyelids fluttered when he came, his hands like steel claws on her flesh as he struggled to contain the storm-surge of pleasure - and he saw how she held her bottom lip in her little white teeth to muffle the groans of her ecstasy as her body twitched underneath him. 

And after their passion was sated they whispered together in the silence of the night, their minds coming together just as their bodies had done, fusing them into an entity that in their blindness they thought would last a lifetime. 

A Saturday in Autumn, the leaves scattered over the garden, clumped together in windrows against the fence. A job to be done, shared together as they so often did now. David stood by the shed, watching her raking and laughing when the little gusts of wind scattered them again. She turned on him. "Don't just stand there, you useless article!" She was laughing too. "Get the bag and help me." 

He stooped and she pushed the leaves into the bag but when she turned for more he tipped them over her in a rustling cascade of red and gold. She screamed and flung down the rake and seized handfuls to throw at him, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes sparkling with fun as he flung them back. She managed to stuff some into his jumper and then run away giggling until he cornered her at the back of the shed and held a handful above her head. 

"No don't, David!" she was shrieking, trying to fend him off. 

"Surrender, then!"

"Never! We're quits!"

He dropped half of them on her head. "Surrender!"

She was trapped in the corner between the shed and the fence, hemmed in by his body and the constraint of his arms. His face was close to hers and she could see the deep indigo-blue of his eyes and the softness of his mouth, laughing with her. There were bits of leaves in the strands of his hair where she had crushed them against his head, and his lips were slightly apart as he caught his breath. Jen stopped struggling and gazed up at him, a surge of longing sweeping over her. She leaned forward in sudden passivity, her face tilted up. 

"OK, OK. I surrender...take me. I'm your slave."

David placed his mouth over hers and his tongue snaked into her mouth. The fringe of her hair tickled his forehead and he could taste a hint of peppermint and coffee on her breath. Her arms came around him, holding tight and he could feel the press of her breasts against his chest and the thrust of her pelvis against his. He dropped the leaves and encircled her, one hand around her waist and the other on one of her soft, warm breasts. His heart was hammering. She was delicious - a warm, vibrant animal, and she was his. His cock reared up, painfully constrained in his pants and he felt it pressing against her pubis. 

Jen leaned back against the rough timber wall of the shed and lifted one leg to twine it about his, opening herself a little, rotating her hips against his groin. Even through the layers of clothes she could feel his length pressing against her clitoris and her pussy opened like a flower. 

"Oh God, David," she was moaning, whispering between the kisses, her lips crushing his. "We can't...not here. Someone will see us."

"There's no one here." He was fumbling with his belt, his mouth against her skin. "God, I need you!"

Jen felt the rasp of his buckle against her and then the clasp of his hands on her buttocks as he hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her back against the shed wall to support her. She looked furtively around, deciding that they were hidden from curious neighbours and from the main house. His fingers were scrabbling against the gusset of her panties to pull them clear and she reached down to help him, wrenching the material aside and locating the head of his cock against her opening before wrapping her arms around his neck. The turn of events had happened so quickly that she was still dry and his cock pressed hard against her without entering. Jen felt him trying to adjust it.

"No!" her voice was low and urgent. "Leave it! Let me take you in when its ready....keep still."

David nodded, his mouth barely touching hers. He brushed over her lips with the tip of his tongue, tasting her again, pushing them open a little. Her weight was pressing down on him, bending his rod as it struggled to enter her and he shifted his hands to allow his fingers to reach her sex. He could feel moisture on his fingertips as her body reacted to him, and he drew her vulva apart to ease his entry. The resistance suddenly melted and he sank into her deeply. 

Jen arched her back as he entered her. She could feel the sill of the shed window pressing into the small of her back and she released his neck and grasped it with both hands, levering herself upwards a little. The angle of his penetration altered, pressing against her clitoris, and she writhed against him, sucking him in deeper and rotating her hips to rub against his pubic bone. She could feel the sun on her face and somewhere in an adjacent tree a bird was chirping, but apart from that the garden was silent and she bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself groaning in pleasure. 

David grasped her buttocks tightly and began to thrust into his sister, matching the rhythm as she levered herself up and down on the windowsill. Her back was against the window, the material of her coat making small squeaking noises on the glass as she rose and fell; she was leaning forward with her face against his and her hair tickled his neck, and he could feel the tight suck of her cunt as it slid up and down on his shaft. 

"Oh, Christ, David!" she was mumbling, almost, her voice disjointed and broken with pleasure. "Ah....yes, oh fuck...yes, baby. So good....do it! Do it faster!" His strokes were long and deep, levering aside the trembling walls of her cunt and her juices were flowing freely now and she wondered idly if it would stain the front of his pants. Her hands fluttered around his neck like trapped birds as the pleasure seized her and she moaned against his skin. "Ah, yes! Deeper...fuck, fuck - deeper, baby!" 




Falling for Jennifer Ch. 02



David felt a building wave of lust as he fucked his sister. The suddenness of the circumstances urged him on: the feel of the air against his buttocks and the warmth of her cunt as it gripped him. He could hear the traffic on the freeway to the south and the song of the bird above him. His fingers touched her at the point of his penetration, sliding over the slippery oil of their union to press against his shaft as it pistoned into her. He began to hammer deeper, his hips thrusting sharply and her body thumped violently against the shed with the force of his strokes. Jen wrapped her hands around his head and clung to him, riding the storm. She imagined how her pussy would look in the open air beneath her, the lips of her vulva clinging to his turgid flesh each time he thrust forward, and how the long strands of his sperm would fall from her when they were done. 

The vision tripped her over the edge and she came. A thin wail broke from her lips and she crushed his head with her arms, feeling the sudden warmth of his own climax as he emptied into her body. He fell against her, jerking spasmodically, only the wall of the shed holding them upright and the rough material of her coat muffled his cries of pleasure. For long moments they clung to each other as his cock pulsed and twitched inside her - and then the storm-surge faded and the light and colours of their surroundings gradually returned. She felt him withdraw and she released her thighs from his waist to stand up on trembling legs.

"Jesus, David. How the hell did that happen?" She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. "One minute you're raking and the next you're raping."

David laughed, his teeth white against the tan of his skin. "You have that effect on me, Sis." He turned his head on the side slightly and regarded her. "Now, if you'll turn around and bend over we can do the other side."

She shook her head. "Not on your life! I'm full....in fact, I'm overflowing" She reached down and pulled aside the gusset of her pants just in time to release a thin stream of his sperm. It fell onto the ground, splattering onto the crushed and trampled leaves at her feet - white and brown and gold, and she laughed. "Now we're both empty!"

Neither was aware of the blue eyes of their mother, watching from the kitchen of the house. Kath had come home and was unpacking the shopping when a movement at the end of the garden caught her eye, and she stopped to look. She thought at first that it was something trapped inside the shed but she gradually realised that it was someone behind the building, hidden from view except through the grimy little window just visible through its open door; and as she watched, the rhythm of the movement became more frenetic: the light alternately blocked and revealed, as if a blanket was flapping against the panes of glass. And then the obstruction was suddenly removed and she perceived Jennifer there, laughing at something and looking down at the ground. 

In a sudden moment of clarity she understood without a shadow of doubt what her daughter had been doing and she swayed against the kitchen worktop to support herself, for her legs seemed to have lost their strength. Her heart was hammering in her chest and a heavy feeling of dread welled inside her. She knew she should turn away but she could not, and so she waited, watching for movement through the distant little panes of glass and hearing the clock in the hallway ticking, ticking, like a metronome measuring the last normal moments of her life. And in those long seconds the odd little things she had noticed about her children clicked together in her mind like finely machined parts of a puzzle and she  knew, even before her son and daughter appeared before her horrified eyes, that all of the dreams and hopes she had had for them were gone. 

With anguished eyes Kath watched them approaching the house. Jen's face was turned towards her brother, gazing at him. Her lips were open and her eyes sparkled and her face was flushed with the glow of a lover. Kath saw how their hands were entwined and how her son kissed his sister on the lips and how the girl responded. She tried to turn away but she could not and so she remained as the couple grew closer until, inevitably, her daughter looked up and perceived her mother's anguished face at the window and she stopped in her tracks. 

For a long moment the two stared at each other. Kath saw the shock of understanding on her daughter's face and the sudden flood of shame and guilt in her eyes and she knew that somehow this had always been ordained - that her children would submit to the sins of their own flesh and that her life would always be one of disappointment at what could have been, but now was lost. 

And in that moment the pain struck her: a crushing, monstrous storm that seized the left side of her body and twisted her over as she gasped and scrabbled at the tilting kitchen bench for support, before falling to her knees and sliding to the floor. She could not scream for the pain was too great and so she lay on the cold tiles and gasped, recognizing the signs, wanting to live but watching the cone of her vision as it dwindled and contracted to nothing. And in the darkness the sound of a great wind filled her head, stripping away her consciousness like a gale peeling away the cladding of an ancient house, and the comfort and security of her life was torn from her mind and flung aside in a tumult of noise and chaos.

And presently, the storm diminished and there was only a rustling sibilance of awareness, like the scrabbling of a rodent in the dark corners of her brain, and the thin and distant cries of her incestuous children as they ran to her twitching form. 

*

"Will she live, Doctor?"

Jen held the white-coated sleeve of the cardiologist, and she peered into his face with concern. "I understand what you have told me - but what does it mean? Will she live?"

He sighed. Explaining the technicalities of what had happened to a person's heart was easy, just as a mechanic could tell you of damage to the engine of your car. He was comfortable with that - it was dispassionate, technical, dealing with facts and figures and percentages. Telling this girl that her mother would never function properly again was difficult, for it strayed into emotion. He sometimes thought of the irony of his position: being able to deal with the architecture of such a wondrous organ, but being unable to do justice to the emotions that were attributed to it - love and compassion and understanding. 

He tried to choose his words carefully. "Your mother - Kath, isn't it? - well, as I've explained, she's suffered a myocardial infarcation...a heart attack. There is significant damage to the venticular chamber of her heart...there will be scarring and permanent loss of function." He could see that his words had not answered the girl's question, and he tried again. "It's difficult to be certain what the prognosis might be, but if she survives I think she must be prepared for quite a different lifestyle." His eyes glittered through the little glasses and he nodded as if satisfied by his explanation. "Yes, quite different. Now, I must go and see my other patients." He turned away and stroke briskly down the wide corridor with its blue painted doors and the bright florescent lights. 

A nearby nurse heard the exchange and saw the look of helplessness on Jen's face as she stared after the physician. She came over and took her hand. "Look love," she said. "I'm not supposed to say anything but I've seen a lot of these. I'm off shift in a few minutes...do you want to have a coffee and I'll tell you what I think."

The coffee was awful but the canteen was warm and the press of people there was somehow better than the deserted corridors of the wards. Jen wrapped her hands around the cup as she listened to what the nurse was saying. 

"It was a bad one...I saw the xrays and the scans....as bad as I've ever seen. I'm sorry." She touched Jen's sleeve to deliver a little comfort. "That's not to say she won't make it though."

"So when will we know?"

The nurse shrugged a little. "A few days. It's good that she got through the surgery, though. I'd say 48 hours, perhaps, and then another week or two in intensive care."

"Will she be normal?"

The woman regarded her. She knew she shouldn't be venturing such opinions but she had seen so many people worried because they  didn't know what was happening. It was better to be told, even if it was only her view. "Look, I'm not a cardiologist, or a neurosurgeon, so don't be holding me to any of this - but I heard them say that there is no apparent damage to the brain from lack of oxygen. It's all about her heart." She regarded Jen with sympathetic eyes. "If she pulls through it will be physical changes...you know, perhaps she will need to get about in a wheelchair with an oxygen mask; taking it really easy. She won't be able to do anything physical, I'm afraid." She paused to sip at her coffee and tried to be positive. "But the body can do things to repair itself - given time. She might improve, or perhaps even get a transplant if the chance comes."

Jen nodded. "Did she say anything?"

The woman shook her head. She was attractive in a sort of common way, with dyed blonde hair and a direct gaze. "Not a word. What happened?"

"She collapsed in the kitchen."

"I see." She glanced at her watch. "Look, I have to go." She looked at Jen inquiringly. "Are you by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Do you have somewhere to stay? I - um, well, you could stay with me if you wanted. It's only a little place but it's nearby and I'm on my own...a bedsitter, really." Her eyes were on Jen's face and her expression made it clear what the invitation involved. 

Jen shook her head. "No, no, thanks." She smiled and touched the woman's hand. "Really, that's very kind of you, but I'm not - I mean, I really don't need anything."

The nurse nodded. "I understand." She stood up and pulled her coat over her shoulders. "Well - good luck. With your Mum I mean."

Jen watched her as she walked away. She wondered if everyone was on the take, searching for gratification without regard for others, and it reminded her of her mother who was at death's door because of what  she had done. The burden of guilt suddenly seemed overwhelming and for the first time since it had happened she held her head in her hands and wept. 

January 2001

Father John Tobias should never have been a Priest, at least if you considered religion and ethics as desirable traits for a man of the cloth. In truth he had little of either but had decided early in life that some professions provided greater opportunity to pursue his ambitions than others did - and wearing a dog collar was the best of them all. He was smart enough to know that you had to work hard if you wanted to reap what you deserved, and so he went about the business of the church with due diligence, undertaking his duties with humility and professionalism and plucking the ripe fruit of vulnerable and lonely people. In the two years of being the local Priest he had already amassed a considerable nest egg from several elderly widows who valued his companionship, and was intimate with three younger women who valued what was under his cassock. 

He had been summoned to the regional hospital to administer last rites at the request of a woman there and he hurried along the corridor of the hospital to get the job done. He was meeting one of his more uninhibited parishioners later that afternoon and did not want to be late for what promised to be some illicit and energetic sex.

He entered the hospital room, remembering to put on a suitably grave expression. The woman was propped up in the hospital bed and her face was pinched and grey. 

"Good afternoon, my child." He spoke gently, his voice pitched at just the right level of sympathy and understanding. "And how are you today?"

Kathrine opened her eyes and regarded the figure before her. She understood that today was her last on this earth and she would be leaving it without regret. She could feel the thready little beat of her damaged heart and knew it would not last for much longer - but there was one last job to be done and the means to do it had just arrived. 

"Hello Father."

He smiled. The old biddy really did look sick - perhaps this wouldn't take too long. "I understand you want me to administer the Last Rites, my child." He took her hand, looking into the troubled blue eyes. "Have you been accepted into the bosom of the Catholic Church, and have you taken of Communion recently?" He watched with relief as she nodded. "Very well." He gathered his accoutrements quickly and leaned over her to begin the sanctification in a low and clear voice.  "O Holy Hosts Above, I call upon thee..." 

Kath lay on the thin mattress and waited. She didn't much care about this but it was necessary to get the priest to her bedside, so she listened patiently until at last the words of the Benediction came from his lips.  '...and thus I do commend thy Servant Katherine into the arms of our Lord on Earth, our Lord Jesus Christ, Preserver of all mercy and reality...'  She felt his fingers tracing the crucifix onto the dry parchment of her skin, and then it was done and he went to turn away with a final murmur of comfort. 

She reached up and plucked at his sleeve. "Wait! There is one more matter, Father, that I must tell you about."

For a moment she thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but it was quickly snuffed out and replaced by an expression of sympathetic attention. He leaned close to her. "Yes, what is it, my child?"

"Well, Father. It's about my children. They need your guidance and care..." and she told him everything, whispering softly into his ear, not noticing how he turned his face aside to conceal his expression of avarice and glee as he heard her dying words. 

*

Mary McGuire was a comely girl of 28 whose husband was a long distance truck driver. The employment suited them both, for it gave him the opportunity to visit the many boarding houses and brothels of the roads on which he traveled - which she knew all about; and it gave her the opportunity to entertain gentlemen in her bed - of which he knew nothing. It always amused Mary to think that when he came home his balls were usually empty of his sperm whilst her vagina was always full of someone else's.

She was crouching on the sofa in the lounge of her house, her breasts swinging pendulously as Father John Tobias humped her from behind. Little grunts of pleasure escaped from her lips, for he had a very large cock that bottomed out with each thrust. She loved the feeling of being mounted like some animal with the grip of his hands on her shoulders to ensure every millimetre of his shaft was stuffed into her willing body; and she delighted in the slap of his balls against the soft skin of her inner thighs. She had already come twice - the sheen of her juices was shining on her thighs and she could hear the wet suck of her cunt on the thick shaft sliding into it. 

She reached back and seized his hips, pulling them back and forth in time to his thrusting. "Christ, Father, that's good! Fuck me harder!"

"You shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain, Mary. You'll be punished if you do."

She giggled. "I'm being punished now, Father, but perhaps you can think of more severe ways to make me repent."

"I'll smite you mightily with my staff."

"From the inside, Father. Deep into the well of my soul."

He laughed. Mary was always good fun and she knew how to fuck, too. He looked down at the point of their union, watching how his cock slid into her. Her anus was pressed out with each stroke and he decided that today might be the day he took her there, too. Perhaps he could adapt a biblical quote for that...  'Get thee in my behind, Satan,' - or maybe something witty about the labors of an Ass. He resolved to research it - perhaps he could even weave it into his Sunday sermon, when only he and Mary would understand the context. He laughed at the thought of all the other puritanical pricks in the congregation missing the delicious irony of it.

"What's so funny?"

"I was thinking of a confession I heard today."

"What was it?" Mary liked to hear what people had to say, although he generally didn't tell her who they were. She was an inveterate gossip.

"A woman who told me that her son and daughter were having it off. She wanted me to do something about it...for some reason it troubled her soul, although I can't imagine why. I thought it was rather a good use of available resources."

Mary twisted around so she could see his face. "You're not serious! What, here - in this town?"

John nodded without breaking his rhythm. "Sure. There's a fair bit of incest that goes on - but this one is unusual because it's consensual. She thinks that its been going on for a while...she noticed them mooning over each other, looking for excuses to be together. She even went into her daughter's room and inspected the sheets." He laughed. "Apparently they were as stiff as a board."

"That doesn't prove anything...she could just have a leaky pussy." She paused for a moment. "Mine leaks from time to time, especially after you've filled it."

"In which case your sheets would be stiff too, Mary. Besides, she caught them at it in the garden and that dispelled any doubts at all...apparently he was fucking her against the side of the shed."

"Really? I suppose that's why it's called a tool shed." She laughed at her little joke. "Who were they?"

"No one you know," he said carefully. "Anyway, they're orphans now. She died just after I left the hospital and the father's been gone for years."

Mary considered his words, and a silence settled in the room except for the squeaks of the ancient springs in the sofa and the soft wet slurp of their genitals. "So what will you do about it?" she asked eventually. 

He thought about the question, savoring the slide of his shaft into her body as he did so. There was something very satisfying about fucking someone else's wife while you talked about consensual incest. He wondered if having your cock inside your sister would feel different to any other woman, and decided it would. Too bad he didn't have a sister to try it out on. 

"Nothing," he said. "If they want to fuck their brains out, good on them! Still, you never know when it might be a useful bit of information." He didn't tell Mary that he intended to check the girl out - perhaps he could blackmail her to get a bit of pussy. He hoped that she was good looking and very young, and the thought of how tight her cunt would be spurred him on. 

He crouched over Mary's back and thrust harder, hearing her squeal as she wriggled underneath him, feeling the head of his cock swelling even more - a sure sign that he was about to come. "Fuck, Mary!" his voice was breathless. "Oh, fuck - here it comes!" 

A geyser of his semen leapt from the eye of his cock and its scalding heat triggered her own climax. Her body went rigid and her pussy spasmed around him, squeezing his shaft in powerful contractions. She screamed with the intensity of it, her shrill cries drowning out his guttural moans of pleasure as he hosed his seed into her, splattering it over the undulating walls of her cunt to seethe and bubble around the neck of her uterus. 

At length his emission diminished and their limbs gradually grew still. Father John could feel his shaft twitching inside the woman and he closed his eyes and concentrated on the last vestiges of his pleasure until that stopped as well. He reached down and carefully disengaged his cock, leaning back to watch his spunk dribble out of her, and he laughed with delight. 

"Will you look at that, Mary! Wow, there's gallons of it." He regarded the flow for a moment. "You know, that reminds me of that quote from the book of John, Chapter 10 I think it was:  'I came that you may have and enjoy life and have it in abundance, until it overflows' .  He laughed again at his cleverness and then carefully wiped his dick on the wad of tissues she had thoughtfully provided, and his thoughts turned to the delicious possibilities of the girl. 




Falling for Jennifer Ch. 02



*

"I was very sorry to hear of your mother's death, Miss Griffiths."

Jen gave the Priest a little smile. She had always felt uncomfortable around him, but he seemed sincere enough, and Lord knows, there was no one else to talk to as the only other two people had left. 

Father Tobias's dark eyes were watching her and she felt compelled to reply. "That's kind of you to say, Father." She glanced around the room, at the plates of uneaten food and the empty chairs. "I'm surprised so few people accepted our invitation to the wake - there were so many at the funeral, I would have expected a few more."

"Ah, well, people are busy, Miss Griffiths." He rotated his head to look around the room, and she saw that his clerical collar was too big. She was reminded of a turtle rotating its scrawny neck through the carapace of its shell. "And where would your brother be?" he asked. 

"He offered to take Mrs Williams home."

John Tobias smiled. He new that the old widow lived a good half hour away, which gave him plenty of time. He leaned forward to close the gap between himself and the girl. She was still wearing a black dress of mourning, but even that couldn't hide the luscious swell of her breasts or the firm voluptuousness of her body. She had a direct manner about her, too, and he knew instinctively that she would be good in bed. No wonder her brother was porking her. 

"There is a little matter I need to discuss with you - ah, Jennifer."

"Certainly, Father. Perhaps you could help me to tidy up while you do." She lifted a plate of sandwiches and walked through to the kitchen, setting them on the table and moving to the sink to wash up. 

He followed her, watching the curtain of her hair as it brushed against the creamy white skin of her neck. She had her back to him and he stood close enough to smell the fragrance of her perfume and to see the outline of her bra straps through the material of her dress. He could feel himself getting hard. "It's about your relationship with your brother," he said. 

Jennifer stopped what she was doing and turned around slowly. He was very close but her back was to the sink and she could not move. She tried to keep her tone calm. "What do you mean, Father?"

"I mean that you are having carnal knowledge of one another."

The shock of his words was like a punch to the belly, and it robbed her of coherent words. She stood before him, mesmerized by his black eyes, like a snake before a charmer. She felt his hands reach up to grasp her shoulders and his words poured into her senses like a tide of warm molasses, so thick and cloying that she could not move. 

"You see, your mother told me, Jennifer...what she saw, and what it meant. You and David, your brother. It killed her, you know." He saw her shake her head in denial, her face white and strained. "Yes, yes, it did. I was there." He gripped her shoulders more tightly. "It killed her, and it will turn everyone else against you too. 

"But I didn't - we didn't..."

Father John laughed. "Oh, but you did! In the garden, in your bed..." he looked around the room. "Even in here, Jennifer, bent over the sink while he took you." He saw from her eyes that it was true. "She wrote it all down in a signed affidavit," he lied. "Do you want people to see it? Do you want everyone to know?"

She stared at him without speaking, shocked beyond words. "Do you realise what will happen to you if they do?" he said, "the headlines in the papers, destroying your life. Your friends laughing at you, shunning you, work colleagues whispering poison behind your back. You'll lose your job - there'll be nothing for you....and then the Police will come. It will mean shame and ruin, Jennifer. Is that what you want?"

She stared up at him, her eyes huge in her face, and she shook her head. 

"I can help you. I can take that all away. Your life will still be the same." He could see the hope flare in her eyes, and he spoke earnestly, watching the play of expressions on her face. "You cannot keep on with your brother - you must look to another relationship. I can help you, Jennifer. I can teach you how to love another and we can keep this a secret, just you and me - but you must do anything I ask."

"I'll do anything."

He smiled. It was so easy. "Then come to the Rectory tomorrow after lunch. Just you, alone." 

For a moment he thought she would refuse but then she nodded, a little bob of he head. Her eyes were on his face and he could see her lips trembling. He felt a surge of power at his control over her, and the thought that she would soon be his. His cock hardened rapidly as he imagined what he could do to her slim, golden body. He slid his hands over her shoulders, cupping her face, feeling the warm velvet of her skin under his fingertips. Her mouth was slightly open and her grey eyes were on his, mesmerized. He fancied he could feel her sexual energy crackling and buzzing through his fingers and the thought of possessing her swept away the last vestiges of his control. He seized her neck and pulled her close, thrusting his hips forward to rub his engorged member against her pubis, and he pressed his lips over hers. 

For just a moment Jennifer was too surprised to act, then with an explosive grunt she flung him backwards with a powerful thrust of her arms. He stumbled back, crashing into the table, and he lost his balance and fell heavily on to the floor. 

"You dirty little pervert!" Her voice was harsh, stabbing into his ears like shards of glass. "You dirty little prick! Do you think for one moment I'd go with you?!" In three steps she was beside him, leaning down towards his startled face. "Do you think  you can offer me a relationship, you shit! All you want is to put your pious little prick in me!" She stepped back. "Get out! Get out of my house!"

Father John scrabbled to his feet and backed away, watching her. He smoothed down the rumbled material of his cassock and adjusted his collar where it had become dislodged. She was breathing heavily - he could see her breasts moving up and down and suddenly a wave of burning anger seized him at the thought of what he was being denied. 

"You little cunt! Do you think you have any choice?" The measured tones of the Priest were gone and his voice was harsh and ugly. "Make sure you screw your brother tonight, you bitch, because it will be the last time! I'll make you an outcast and your poxy life will be a living hell!" His face was twisted in hatred and flecks of spittle flew from his mouth as the foul words poured out. "One day you'll crawl to me and beg for forgiveness, you slut!" He laughed, a high pitched giggle, and thrust his face forward towards her. "And I'll fling you back in the gutter with all the other whores I rejected!" 

He turned and left the room, the door swinging behind him, and Jen sank down on one of the kitchen chairs. His words rang in her ears like the tolling of a funeral bell:  'It will mean shame and ruin, Jennifer',  and although he was nothing but a sick little turd she knew that they were true. The long, frantic nights with David were no longer a secret, and she knew that if the Priest did nothing else he would make it his business to destroy her. And so she held her face in her hands and wept - bitter tears from the well of her soul for a mother lost and a reputation shattered, and for a brother's love that she knew in her heart could never be sustained. 

In the morning Jen found the word "Whore" painted on the garage door, and the letter box vandalized, and she understood that it had started. 

***** 

David Montgomery Griffiths watched with hooded eyes as his latest date climbed over him. She was a small girl but perfectly proportioned, with a trim waist and firm round breasts capped by surprisingly big nipples. She was also very pretty but there was a hardness around her mouth and eyes that seemed out of place in one so young. He felt her little hand grasp his cock, engaging it against the warm wet lips of her vulva, and he saw the curtain of her hair swing down over her face as she bent forward to better see what she was doing. 

She lowered her hips and grunted as the head of his cock popped into her, and she held the position for a few moments before removing her hand and gradually impaling herself onto his shaft. They both watched as it skewered into her body, and she gave another little grunt of satisfaction as his heat reached up into her belly. 

"Ah, ah!" She wriggled a little bit to adjust to his size, then looked at him with her bright smiling eyes. "Why, Mr Griffiths - that's good! Were you planning to make a deposit tonight, Sir?"

David laughed at the little game she was playing. Sophie was a junior accountant in the finance department of his company and although he was far senior to her, he knew that she was unfazed by rank. They had been out for coffee once or twice and then a dinner date, and this was their first time in bed. 

"A sizeable one, Miss Andrews. Can you handle that for me?"

"Of course, Mr Griffiths! I have just the right size deposit box for you." She looked into his face and giggled. "Actually, it feels a little too small."

She began to move gently, her thighs flexing to raise and lower her torso on his cock. She was right - it was deliciously tight, but he could see her cream beginning to coat his shaft as she moved, easing the friction between them. He loved girls that were prolific in their juices, and Sophie promised to have a great deal. He lifted his hands and fondled her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples until they swelled like ripe raspberries, and she tilted her head back and groaned at his touch. 

"Ah, that's good."

"Tell me what you like, Sophie."

"I like what you're doing."

"Tell me what you feel, then."

She began to gyrate her hips whilst still raising and lowering herself. Each time she lifted his shaft was exposed, shiny with her juices, sliding out until only the purple glans was embedded in her. She had shaved her pussy and her lips were visible as they grasped the intruder - and she would hold herself there for a few moments before hunkering down to accept him into her body again. 

"I can feel you right up inside me....sort of pressing against something...and then -" she lifted herself, gripping his shaft with her vaginal muscles as he withdrew "- I can feel you sliding out...the ridges - your cock head." She looked down again as his glans appeared. "Look, look, David - look at our juice." His bell-end was coated with her cream, and as they watched a dribble of it trickled over the swollen purple flesh. "I've always been wet, but you seem to bring the best out of me." She giggled at the double meaning. 

"I love it." David reached forward and scooped some onto his fingertips and pressed it to his mouth. "Ummm. That's good."

Sophie laughed. "You like that, do you? Well, here's some more." She lifted herself off his cock and swung her torso forward to present her pussy to his face. David plunged his mouth over her vulva, his tongue wriggling between her lips to enter into her body. He could taste the sweetness of her juices, as thick and tart as yoghurt.

She was wriggling on his face, her eyes closed in pleasure. "Oh, yes! Ah, just like that. Fuck it with your mouth!" Her thighs were pressed against his cheeks, the flesh smooth and warm, and he could smell the animal musk of her arousal. She was moving against him, undulating her cunt over his face and he could feel her lips squashed against his and her juices coating his mouth and chin. He began to rub the soft inner flesh of his top lip against her clitoris whilst he thrust his tongue in and out, and she trembled against him. 

"Oh, yes...Christ, don't stop! Ah, ah, yes David!"

She was like a river, her juice pouring over his chin...sweet cunt juice, nectar on his lips. She trembled against him, becoming frantic as she reached up for the first climax. "Ah, I'm coming, David. Fuck, fuck, oh yessssss -" and her pussy contracted violently in orgasm, ejecting a warm jet of fluid into his mouth as she ground herself against his face. His head was against the pillow with nowhere to go and for a moment he felt he was drowning in cunt, her lips and the warm wet discharge seeming to envelop his whole head; and then she fell free, her tight little buttocks resting on his chest and her eyes bright with lust. 

"Fuck me, David," she whispered.

"I will, I will." He pushed her aside and scrabbled to his feet, lifting her on the mattress so she was kneeling before him. She thrust her bottom upwards and opened her thighs, pressing her face to the sheet. Her sex was pushed back and the lips were parted so he could see the succulent wet flesh of her insides. He could see the cream still inside her too, nestling between her lips like the cream in an eclair, and with a groan of lust he stooped down and lapped at her - long, flat strokes over her vulva to draw out her juices, thick as clotted cream his tongue, then onwards to her perineum and the tight, crinkled little bud of her anus. Lapping, lapping, hearing the snuffling sounds of his mouth on her cunt and the thin cries of her pleasure. 

And then he was fucking her, pressing the great swollen head of his cock through the wet open lips of her cunt, sliding down through her pelvic girdle into her belly: long, thick strokes, hot and wet and delicious. Long, long strokes into her little body, watching her wriggling as he fucked her...watching her hands gripping the sheets, fluttering like dying birds as the incredible pleasure washed over her: fucking, fucking, sliding his burning knob deeper and deeper into her body until he felt the seeds of his own orgasm building, and he seized her hips and held her tight in that infinitesimal trembling moment of ecstasy whilst his sperm raced up the long shaft like hot magma from the centre of the earth. 

Sophie rode his final strokes like a little boat in a storm, and she felt him suddenly stop and seize her hips. Her consciousness slowed, like a clock that is suddenly run at one tenth of the speed: she felt the bulbous head of his cock swelling like a balloon filling with water, and she imagined the cone of her cervix pressing against the end to block the seething tide of his sperm - and then she felt it burst inside her: the first scalding jet splattering deep in her body. Her pussy contracted violently, clasping David's shaft and milking it with hard, rhythmic contractions - sucking long jets of his seed from him. She heard him moaning, grunting as he ejaculated, and she felt his emissions filling her. She looked between her legs and perceived his balls jerking and twitching as they emptied, and she saw that she was indeed full and his sperm was leaking from her vulva to dribble and splatter over the rumpled sheets beneath her. 

And after a million years their bodies stopped twitching and he withdrew his shaft, slick and shiny with their juices and he flopped down beside her. Sophie brushed the comma of hair back from his forehead and smiled at him. She wondered why he was still single, and why all of the girls from the bank who had shared his bed talked of him as a lonely, troubled guy who could not commit to more than a night or two of pleasure. She felt the warmth of his seed in her body and the tenderness of her sex where his pubic bone had battered it. She saw the little boy lost look in his eyes and she drew his head to her breasts and cradled him, awash with a post-coital tenderness.  I'll be the one,  she thought.  I'll be the one who brings him back from whatever troubles his soul,  and she brushed her fingers over his face like those of a lover. 

David lay in the arms of this faceless girl and thought of his sister, just as he had on every day for the last ten years, and he thought his heart would burst with the pain of longing. Nothing had ever been the same since she had gone, and he knew that nothing would. The transient moments of pleasure like those of tonight were only pinpricks of light in a world of grey and black, and he knew that he must do more to find her. The letter he had sent had done nothing, and tomorrow he would try even harder to find her. 

His mind spiraled back to the moment when it had all come tumbling down, and they had said goodbye for the last time in that God-forsaken little hovel they had called home. 

***** 

"I don't think I can go on, David. The Priest was right."

They were lying in their mother's bed - a move insisted by David as it was bigger than either of theirs, but she had never felt comfortable here and her lovemaking had lost its spontaneity because of it. It was difficult to be uninhibited when everything around you was seeped in her memory.

David was angry. "That little bastard! I ought to go to the Rectory and give him something to remember!"

Jen smiled a little at his words. "That's what he wanted me to do."

"I know. Fucking little pervert!"

"I hear that he's over at Mary McGuire's place a lot, when her hubby's not there."

"Really?" David pushed himself up on one elbow to look at her face with interest. "Where did you hear that?"

Jen shrugged. "Round and about. You know what this place is like - full of people with nothing better to do than gossip!" Her voice was bitter. 

"I ought to phone the Bishop and tell him what his boy is getting up to."

"Then you would be no better than him."

David shrugged and sank back to the mattress. He had been touching Jen's breast and his fingers resumed that task, brushing lightly over the round creamy globe. He didn't expect to get anywhere, though - she seemed to be too tired to do it much anymore. 

"How are things in the village, Jen?" 

She shrugged. "No better. I go to the bank and the tellers close just as I get to the front of the queue. It's the same with the supermarket, too, and the woman at the Chemist told me the other day that she didn't want me in the shop any more because I was driving away the older customers." She laughed, a bitter mocking sound. "And I didn't tell you that they've changed my job, did I?"

David sat up again. "No. What's happened?"

"Mr Randall called me into the office. He suggested that I needed a change from the front desk and that he'd decided to give me a research position in the office at the back. I asked him why...he was so embarrassed. He eventually said that people were complaining about me...they were staying away from the shop." She glanced at him. "Not surprisingly, it's less money."

"Isn't that illegal? Discrimination, or something?"

"So who's going to care, David? If I tried to hire Sneddon he'd probably tell me to get fucked." Sneddon was the local lawyer, known for his colourful language outside of the courtroom. Her voice suddenly cracked. "I don't think there's a single person in this whole fucking village who would give me a moment of their time." 

But she was mistaken. There were people in the village who were prepared to give her lots of their time - even if it was for all the wrong reasons. 

*

There were four of them, and they were waiting for her. They'd been in the local pub since early afternoon and like everyone else had heard about the little tart in Willis Street who was fucking her brother, and who was a disgrace to the village. And so, fired up with alcohol and bravado they made a plan and they all laughed and agreed, for if they didn't teach her a lesson, who would? They knew that every Wednesday she attended the Pilates class in the village hall and would walk home by herself, cutting through the little park just by the graveyard, and so they waited in the shadows for her to arrive. 

The gazebo was set back from the main pathway and surrounded by trees and they sprawled on its steps drinking from a bottle of Jim Beam and giggling, their nervousness a palpable thing. One of them was outside the hall with the mobile phone to warn them she was coming, and so they waited and they drank to sustain their bravado: for it was one thing to talk about it but another to do it. The things they needed were behind them on the cold concrete floor - the ropes and the knives and the pillow and the bucket, and there was nothing to do but wait and drink, and laugh at the thought of what was coming. 




Falling for Jennifer Ch. 02



The mobile phone rang and the leader answered, nodding once before turning it off and warning the others. They set aside their bottles and put the flour sacks over their heads, and they moved into the bushes beside the path in the dappled shadows of yellow and black thrown by the single overhead lamp. The leader crouched at the front of the group, holding a hand up to restrain the others. They could see Jen now, walking quickly with her head down and her hands in her pockets and they could see their companion loitering some distance behind her. She approached quickly, almost silent in her running shoes, her face a pale blur under the hood of her coat. They could see the glint of her eyes as she walked into the pool of light, and they waited a few moments to allow her to pass and then they pounced. 

Jen was a strong girl and she struggled, but there were four of them and there was no hope of escape. She tried to scream but they put tape over her mouth and they struck her on the side of the head to stun her, and she felt herself being lifted and carried and flung roughly to the floor of the gazebo. They tied her to one of the supporting columns, sitting up with her back to the rough stonework, and when she came to her senses they were stood over her. 

The four figures were dappled and striped by the long black shadows thrown by the columns and ornate balustrade of the gazebo, and their tracksuits looked like military fatigues. Their bodies were elongated by the perspective of her low vantage point so they appeared massive, and the sacks on their heads with the black eyeholes roughly hacked through the dark, mottled cloth were terrifying. She shrank back, her eyes frantic with fear and her low moan of terror was muffled by the tape around her mouth.

"Cut off her clothes." The leader's voice was low and breathless at what was about to happen. 

They seized their knives and slit the sleeves of her coat and the legs of her tracksuit, and

she felt their hands on her body, hard fingers as they pulled away the material. They cut the straps to her bra and the triangle of her little white knickers, ripping them aside so she was naked. She heard them laughing, high-pitched and nervous, charged with fear and excitement and power. The taller of them crouched in front of her and leaned forward. Jen could see the glint of eyes through the black holes in the hood. 

"This is what we do to girls who fuck their brothers." The voice was low pitched and malevolent and Jen realised with a shock that it was a woman's. 

Jen felt them seize her hair and she felt the sting of the blades on her scalp hacking away her locks, the clumps falling on her shoulders and pooling in her lap, shining gold in the thin light. She tried to keep still but pain and fear made her move, and the blades cut her head so the blood ran down over her face and into her eyes. She could smell the rank, stale odour of liquor and cigarettes and the musk of their excitement, and she could hear them whispering and laughing as they worked. 

At length the leader stood up. "Bring the tar."

They brought the bucket and she could smell the smoking hot chemical stink of the bitumen, and she writhed in terror at what they were going to do. One of them dipped a brush into the bucket and lifted it above her head, and she screamed in pain as the hot liquid dribbled and splattered on to her naked skin. 

"Wait!" The leader stooped forward, inspecting the spots of smoking black tar amidst the hacked golden tufts of Jen's hair, and she waved aside the brush. Even in her befuddled state she realised it was still too hot, and that it would kill her if they used it. She thrust her face close to Jen's and laughed, a bitter little sound without humour. "That's what you'll get next time, you whore," she said. "Leave town. Take your little fuck-boy somewhere else." 

The black eye-holes regarded her for a moment longer, and then she nodded at two of the figures and they unzipped their pants and Jen saw the thick uncircumcised heads of their pricks. They stood over her and urinated, the streams of gold steaming slightly in the cold evening air, hosing over her head and shoulders. She could smell the ammoniac stink of their waste and its heat cooled rapidly, chilling her skin as it dripped and trickled into the nooks and crannies of her body.

With a wave of her hand the woman dismissed her companions, and like crabs scuttling away they gathered their things and melted into the darkness. She leaned over Jen once again. "Be glad it wasn't the men in charge, you bitch, or you'd have been fucked to death." Then she too was gone and Jen was left alone and sobbing in the darkness, abused and humiliated. 

The young doctor sat by the bed and held Jen's hand. Like everyone else around he had heard the stories about her, but he was not inclined to make judgments based on rumour. He talked quietly to her, aware that the brother was listening too. 

"There's no damage, really," he said. "We've removed the spots of tar and we've shaved your head, and your hair will grow back." He regarded her, noting the pallor of her skin and the indigo bruises of fear and fatigue under her eyes. "I've arranged for a counselor to visit in the morning, and I think the police will want an interview as well." He smiled, more to give a sense of normality than through anything else. "They wanted to speak to you tonight but I sent them away."

Jen's voice was low. "No police." 

"You've been the victim of a savage and unprovoked attack, Jennifer. Had they used the tar you would certainly have died. You are entitled to the full protection of the law."

"No."

The doctor glanced at David, who shrugged slightly. "Very well. The pills you took help you to sleep and I'll stop by in the morning." He squeezed her hand. "If it's any consolation, Jennifer, I think what has happened to you is appalling, and I'd be happy to have you both as my neighbours any time." 

David waited for the doctor to leave the room and he leaned over to kiss her. The light was behind him and his shadow fell across her face as he moved, and in her fear and confusion she thought it was the hooded figure again, come back to finish the job. She shrank from him, her eyes full of terror. "No," she whispered. "No, no, I won't...not ever again." And then she perceived it was David and she saw the pain in his eyes but she turned her head away and closed her eyes, and after a while the pills kicked in and she slept. 

David sat by her bed and he thought about what had happened, and the terror she must have felt. He remembered the words of the Priest that she had told him:  'Your friends laughing at you, shunning you, work colleagues whispering poison behind your back. You'll lose your job - there'll be nothing for you....and then the Police will come. It will mean shame and ruin, Jennifer. Is that what you want?'  He knew that she must move from the village and start again somewhere else, and in a moment of clarity he knew that she would never take him with her because as long as they were together it would start again. It was finished, and it was better that he end it cleanly. 

The clock in the little village church was striking two when David rose stiffly to his feet, his mind made up. Jen was sleeping, the lines of fear and pain eased. Her lashes lay softly on her cheeks and her lips were slightly open and she looked young and beautiful and very vulnerable. He looked down at her, remembering all of the good times they had had together, and he thought his heart would break. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek, and he tiptoed out of the room and shut the door softly behind him, and he went home to pack. 

August 2011

David Griffiths was thirty years old and he felt like a kid on his first date. He was sitting at a street table of the little restaurant dressed in his best clothes, nursing a cappuccino. The flowers were on the chair beside him and the present was on the table, carefully wrapped in bright paper and garnished with strands of ribbon in what he thought were her favourite colours. 

He glanced again at his watch, and for the fourth time that morning he unfolded the sheet of paper and read her email again.

 David,

In your email you said that you've become a stranger, and I guess that's true. Eleven years is a long, long time and we don't even know where the other one lives. 

Was it Tennessee Williams who said "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers?" I think it was. I feel I need some kindness now and I can't think of a better stranger to ask for it. 

Would you meet me? There's a little bistro called 'Cream' in the mainstreet of a village called Royalla Marsh not far from here. I'm thinking 12 o'clock on Saturday, if you can make it for lunch. I'll be the one with the rose between my teeth.

Jen.

x 



David had been dismayed to see there was no salutation before his name - just "David", but he thought the tone of the email was good and he was encouraged by the kiss at the end. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket to be kept with the other little treasures of her memory, in case this didn't work out. 

Jen watched him through the window of the little antique shop across the road. She could see he was older now, which wasn't surprising. His face had filled out and there were lines around his eyes and mouth that had not been there when she had last seen him in the hospital - but they added character to his face. She thought it had turned handsome, where before he had been pretty. There was no trace of grey in his hair, and she saw his body was lean and powerful, as if he had been working out in the years since they had parted. She watched him open a piece of paper and read it briefly and she guessed it was her email, and that he was checking the time and place again - probably for the umpteenth time today. She smiled to know that he was as nervous as she was. 

She glanced into a mirror on one of the antique dressers in the shop. It was speckled and flyblown, but it was enough to check her make up. She saw an errant strand of hair and her hands fluttered to it, brushing it back into place, fiddling with her collar and smoothing down the coat - and then, with a final grimace of nervousness, she turned and walked through the open door and she crossed the street to where her brother sat. 

David saw her when she was half way across the street and his heart leaped in his chest. He saw that she was older, her face rounder than he remembered. Her figure was fuller too, but there was no fat on her body: rather, there was a voluptuousness that she had lacked as a younger woman - deeper curves that were accentuated by the tailored suit she wore. 

He rose to her feet and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, but she seized him and they embraced. Her hair was shorter than before, cut in a sort of bob, and he could smell the scent of apple and soap on her skin. After a moment they separated, and she sat down. 

"I hardly recognised you without the rose," David said. 

She was taken aback. "What? What rose?"

"In your email." He touched his pocket. "You said you'd be the one with the rose in your teeth."

"Ah, I remember now." She smiled. "I tried it but I was worried about the pricks - I mean, prickles." He could see a faint blush on her cheeks as she corrected herself. "God, that didn't sound right, did it." She laughed. "I can see that in the local rag:  'Local woman meets long lost brother with a prick in her mouth'." 

David laughed with her, and was relieved that she hadn't lost any of the humour and spontaneity of her youth. Her grey eyes were laughing too, crinkled at the edges, and her teeth were white and even. He realised that she had turned into a beautiful woman. 

"Tell me about yourself, Jen. What have you been doing since I last saw you?"

"Short version? Moved to Sydney. Found job, worked, met man. Married. Separated ten years ago - no kids. Hated city so moved to smaller place. Set up business and here I am." She didn't mention the years of loneliness, of broken relationships and an empty bed because none of the men she met had measured up to him. "What about you?"

"Moved to Melbourne. Worked. Never married as nobody would have me. Worked some more, wrote to long lost sister and here I am." 

"Why wouldn't anyone have you?"

David shrugged. "Too grotchety, I guess...and they were always in competition with someone else." His eyes were on her face, inviting her to talk about it. 

She put her hand on his arm. "Don't, David. Not yet. We can talk about that time somewhere else, but not here -" she broke off as the waitress brought them menus. "God, I'm famished. I plan to eat everything on the menu...what about you?"

He nodded and they scanned the fare, ordering starters and mains and a crisp white Sauvignon Blanc to go with the meal. The food was good and as the level in the bottle dropped they began to relax a little, finding the connection again, laughing at little things they had heard or read about. She ordered a dessert - a fig pudding drizzed in butterscotch sauce and she ate it whilst he sipped his coffee. 

David watched her eat the last mouthful with obvious relish. "How come you're not the size of an elephant?" he asked.

She feigned amazement, looking down into her lap and smoothing her hands over her torso. "You mean I'm not?"

"Hardly. You look good."

"If I ate like that every meal I would be, but today's different. " She glanced around the other tables. "Looks like we're the last ones here...do you fancy a walk?"

"Yep. Where to?"

"Just a walk...around - you know. I want to talk about things."

"Right." He picked up the flowers and the present. "Don't forget these."

She took his arm and they walked down the main street of the town, past the little church and the park just beyond it. She was silent for a while and David did not press her, as he sensed that she was gathering her thoughts. 

At last she turned to him. "Do you remember the last words I said to you at the hospital?"

"You said  'No, I won't. Not again' ...or something like that."

She nodded. "The doctor had just given me something so I guess over the years I wasn't too sure what I said, but I thought it might have been along those lines. You know I didn't mean it. Is it why you left without saying anything?"

"Partly. I figured you couldn't stay in the town - you'd have to move, and that you wouldn't want me because it would happen again wherever we were."

"But why didn't you say goodbye?"

"Because I loved you."

"That's like saying you rape to save virginity."

David shook his head. "Hardly. I left because I thought everything had happened because of me, and you had been the one to suffer because of it. If I hadn't seen you naked in the bathroom...if I hadn't done what I did, you wouldn't have been hurt. I knew you couldn't stay there, and I knew that if we stayed together it would happen all over again. I thought it was better to go, to spare you the pain of having to tell me to go."

Jen nodded. "I was angry with you for a long time, but I finally figured that out." She was quiet for a few minutes. "And how do you feel now?"

"I've thought about you every single day we have been apart."

She smiled. "Every day? That's a lot of days."

"Yep. Well, every day except for Thursdays and Sundays, when I had a couple of tarts visit me at home...and Mondays and Wednesdays when I stayed over at the nurse's accommodation block near me."

"So that left Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays to think of me?"

"Yeah. Except Friday was my fishing day, and on Saturdays I usually had a hangover." He laughed. "So Tuesdays I thought of you. That's still nearly 600 days."

"Wow. I'm really flattered. It didn't answer the question though, David. How do you feel about us now?"

" I was nervous about today, Jen - not at the thought of seeing you again, but at the thought that we might not be able to connect...you know, that time might have changed us both and we really would be strangers." He squeezed her arm. "But it wasn't like that. For me at least the connection is still there - it was as if those empty years had never happened." He paused for a moment, aware that her grey eyes were watching him with that peculiar intensity he remembered. "So, to answer your question - I feel good about us. I feel..." he struggled for words "...as if I've come home."

She stopped walking and regarded him, a long searching look, and then she reached a decision. "Speaking of home," she said, "here is mine. Would you come in for a few minutes, David? We could have another coffee, or something."

They were stood at the gate of a little cottage on the outskirts of the village. He looked at her in surprise. "You live here?"

"Yes. It's very modest, I'm afraid, and I'm only renting. I couldn't afford much."

He opened the gate and ushered her though. "Speaking of money, you probably don't know you have about half a million in a savings account I set up for you." 

She stared at him. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Mum's house. For some reason her will was made out to me, not to both of us. I guess she was a traditionalist at heart. I initially rented it, just to keep it going whilst I sorted things out...and a year or two later I got an unsolicited offer of a ridiculously low price." He glanced at her. "Like, it was such a ridiculous offer it made me wonder why anyone would even bother to ask. Anyway, I did a bit of research and found it was a property developer buying up big in the street...wanting to build new townhouses, trying to get a cheap deal. So I hung out until it was the very last second and got twice the market price." He laughed. " I couldn't find you to tell you, so I set up an account with your share in it and did a bit of investing. It's there when you want it, but you'll need to speak to the Trustee."

"But you did all the work, David. I shouldn't get all of that."

"It was the only thing of value Mum had - of course half of it is yours. I just got lucky with the price."

Jen opened the door to the house and they went in, through the narrow hallway and into the little kitchen. She opened the cupboard to fetch the cups, wondering why she had invited him in, not knowing how this would progress, or even if she should. 

David sat on one of the kitchen chairs, and he looked around. "This is just like Mum's kitchen," he said, and he looked at his sister and longed to be back there with her - to capture all that they had lost, even if it was only for a day. 

Jen turned towards him with the crockery in her hands. She hadn't made the connection with her mother's house, but he was right - it had the same outlook and furnishings and atmosphere. She saw that the sun was streaming in through the window to fall on the figure of her brother, and she perceived an expression of desperate longing on his face. Her mind tumbled back to another time, when David was sitting in  that kitchen the morning after their first night together, and their mother had just left to go shopping. She remembered the motes of dust hovering in the sunlight and the glints of red and copper in his hair, and the way his skin was burnished to a marvelous gold in its light; and she recalled how she had run to him on long bare legs with her heart bursting with love. 

And in that instant of time Jen realised that everything was the same and eleven long years of their lives had been wasted because neither of them had found the energy or courage to capture what they had lost. The emotional walls that she had carefully built crumbled in a second and she was swamped by an irrepressible need to hold him again, to be one with him. 

She dropped the cups and they shattered on the floor as she ran to him, holding his face, pressing his lips to his startled mouth. She was seized by a wild recklessness - to abandon the safe and cloistered existence she had built and to  live again, to laugh and to weep and to take her chances in the crazy tumbling circus of love; and if it happened to be with her brother then so be it, for the rest of her life was too short to waste a single moment more. 




Falling for Jennifer Ch. 02



She straddled him, holding his face with her hands, raining kisses on his mouth, laughing at his shocked expression - and he was kissing her back, his arms around her, whispering in the silence of the house. "Oh, God, Jen! I've missed you," and she wrapped her arms around his head and cradled it to her breasts as she remembered this very instant so many years ago. 

The bedroom was dim, the Venetian blinds already lowered against the bright afternoon sun, and the doona was big and fluffy. They undressed together, dropping their clothes where they stood and each of them regarded the other. David could see the voluptuousness he had guessed at earlier, the breasts bigger but still firm and upright on her rib cage, the nipples stiff with excitement. Her waist was trim, accentuated by the luscious swell of her hips and her belly was flat, leading to the crease between her thighs. She stood naked before him, unashamed, watching as he stripped off the last of his clothes. 

Jen saw that he had filled out in the time they had been apart. His chest was broader, shaded with a light coating of hair and the muscles in his body were hard and well defined. His cock was massively erect, bobbing as he moved, and she could see a dribble of moisture at its tip. She had not had sex for years and thought she had learned to live without it, but she was suddenly seized by an uncontrollable wave of lust. She fell to her knees and grasped his rod, delighting in its length and hardness, and she placed the glans against her lips. Her fingers were white against the darker hue of his turgid flesh and were cool against its heat. 

David watched as his sister knelt before him, sliding her lips over the stretched, purple skin, dipping her tongue into the slit to scoop out the silver strands of his lubrication. A narrow horizontal band of light from a gap in the blinds fell across her face, illuminating her eyes as she worked on his cock. He could see the gunmetal grey of her irises shot through with strands of bright gold, and they stared unblinkingly up at his face to better judge how she should give him pleasure. Her tongue was lapping at him now, flickering under the head of his cock, dabbing at the frenulum and then curling over the rounded tip to dip into the oozing eye - lapping, lapping, gobbling the strands of silver that hung between them. Her breasts were swinging slightly with the momentum of her movement, pale globes full and swollen, the nipples as stiff as he had ever remembered them, and he reached down to fondle them, warm and supple in his hands. 

The change in his posture pushed his cock forward and it popped through the portal of Jen's lips with a soft wet sound. David felt the warm, wet pressure of her mouth as soft as a butterfly's wing as she engulfed the head. He felt his cock jerk slightly as he released more lubrication, and he imagined it oozing over her tongue. He released her breasts and held her head instead, sliding his hips back and forth to fuck her face, delighting in the incredible feeling of his sister's mouth as his shaft disappeared into her throat. He could hear her moaning with lust, the sensation transmitted through his cock like a little vibrator, and felt her hands gripping his buttocks to pull him back and forth to better service her. She released one hand and cupped his balls, weighing them in her hand and delighting in their size and the promise of what they contained, and her fingers wriggled behind them to press against the tight crinkled entrance of his ass. 

David remembered the very first time he had had her, in her narrow little bed in their mother's house. He recalled the incredible sensation as his shaft slid into the warmth of her body, and how he had wanted that moment to last forever. He remembered thinking how beautiful she was, and how she could have had any other man - but she had chosen him. He looked down at her now, watching as she serviced his cock. Her eyes were on his face and filled with wonder at what was happening to her, and her hair moved as she rocked back and forth - and he saw that she was beautiful. Nothing in the years they had been apart had satisfied him, and he thought he had become a drifter - but now it was as if the long empty years had never been, and he was seized by the same desire to possess her as he had in that little bed so long ago. 

He reached down and pulled her upright, placing his mouth on hers. He could taste the salty flavour of his discharge on her lips, and his senses were swamped by the incredible warmth and softness of her body pressing against his. His cock was rammed against her belly, oozing and leaking, and he imagined that it would soon be inside her - sliding into that exquisitely tight portal to ease aside the grasping, fluttering lips to reach up into her very core. 

She broke free of his mouth, her voice soft and urgent. "Ah, David. I want you so much. Do whatever you want to me. Fuck me, fuck me hard. Fuck your baby sister." Her mouth was against his skin, her lips moving, her voice oozing into his ears to spur him on. "Do you remember the shed?" she whispered. "Fuck me like that again," and she lifted a leg and hooked it over his hip. 

He reached down and seized her buttocks and lifted her, feeling the warmth of her thighs as she locked them around his waist. His cock was pressed against her and he adjusted it, sliding the head over the tight crease, pressing forward until it found the right spot and popped into her. She gasped at the sensation, her back arching slightly. 

"Ah, yes, just there. Press into me there. Let me feel all of you."

The long, delicious slide of his shaft into his sister, so exquisite after all of these years. He could feel the pressure of her flesh squeezing him as he entered, an incredible tightness as the grasping, cloying flesh of her cunt gradually opened under his onslaught. He could feel Jen's arms around his neck and her face pressing into his shoulder, and he heard the long exhalation of her breath as he penetrated her, sliding inch by inch towards her belly. He pressed his fingers against her vulva, the tips bathed in the bubbles of their mingled juices until with a final groan he was buried fully inside her. 

She leaned back in his grasp to better see his face. "Oh, God - that's deep, David. Wait...wait, let me adjust." 

Jen's pussy was stretched tightly about his shaft and she clenched and released her vaginal muscles to alleviate the feeling of overbearing fullness. He could feel her sheath gripping and releasing him, and the delicious crimp of her vulva on the root of his cock, and he saw that her eyes were shining with desire and that her mouth was slightly open and her lips were soft and pink and wet.

"Fuck me now, David," she whispered. "Fuck my wet pussy."

She rocked on his hips and he moved with her, his pelvis moving back and forth and his rod easing in and out of her sex. At this angle the head of his cock was rubbing the upper surface of her cunt and the root was pressed against her clitoris. She was moaning, arching her spine with her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, and he leaned back to compensate for the shift of her weight. Her breasts were swaying, full and round, the nipples exquisitely hard and he could see a light sheen of sweat on her skin, shining in the dim light. His fingers were pressed against the point of entry, slick with their juices. 

David eased her down into the clean white duvet of the bed and she reclined on her back. He seized her ankles and held her legs open, driving into her in long, delectable strokes. She was fully exposed to him now and he could see that she had shaved herself and the lips of her cunt were grasping at him as he slid back and forth. She held the covers of the bed in tight little fists, anchoring herself against his thrusts. 

"Christ God, David, that's good! Ah, yes, fuck me. Fuck me deeply!"

And he heard his own voice, gusty with desire. "Yes, oh yes! I'll fill you with my cock. Christ, you're tight, Jen. Such a tight little cunt."

Her breasts had settled on her chest to lose their definition but he could see them wobbling and rocking as he thrust into her, and the nipples were hard and pink. 

"I want to come into you, Jen. I want to fill you up."

And her voice in response, thready and broken with her lust. "Ah...Yes! Ugh, yes, yes. Come into me! Squirt into me, David! Fill up...ugh! Fill up your sister with your sperm!"

He could feel the stirrings of his first orgasm, the first inkling of a storm that would seize them both. He remembered the first time he had injected his seed into his sister, just a teenager then, and how she had milked him as he writhed on top of her. He watched her now as she moved under him, wondering if she would do the same. He could see the clenching of her hands on the douvet and the expression of intense pleasure on her face. She was panting, her mouth open and her lips trembling and her breasts were rocking back and forth. He could see the froth of juices at her pussy, creaming around his shaft as he slid into her, and he could hear the tight rhythmic sucking sounds of her cunt as it gripped and released him. 

And like the rushing of a great wind David's climax enveloped him, sweeping him upwards in a trembling, tumbling turmoil of noise and light. He heard his voice shouting, shouting and her own cries in return as she joined him in the soaring heights of ecstasy. The long jets of his sperm burst from the head of his cock and entered deep into his sister's body, hot and viscous, splattering over the glistening membrane of her pussy to coat the trembling, twitching flesh. Her cunt was grasping him, milking him in tight, rhythmic contractions, each one drawing a ribbon of seething jism from his balls and he gripped her legs tightly, his face contorted with pleasure. 

And in those searing moments of exquisite pleasure he perceived how their life could be, to share one another like this and to have love and companionship too - but he saw the spectre of disgrace and ruin was still there and always would be, for what they were doing challenged a deeply held taboo. The winds of his orgasm retreated and the colours and texture of the present returned, and he saw that her body was painted with horizontal strips of light stealing in from the shutters - bands of light and dark like the bars of a cage, and he perceived it to be a sign that they were destined to be separated for ever. 

The afternoon was quiet and there was only the sound of their breathing, and the whispers of their words to one another. 

"Nothing has changed, David. Nothing."

He felt his heart twist - understanding that her fear of public shame was still too big and that his premonition had been right, and that not even the moments of ecstasy they had just experienced were enough to change her mind. 

"It is like we were never apart, David. How could we have wasted all those years?" she continued, "how could we have done that?" 

His heart soared. "Not wasted," he said. "It was part of growing. It had to happen. We had to walk through the shadow to understand how important the light is." The bed creaked a little as he turned to look at her and his voice was shy and uncertain. "Would you come with me, Jen, back to Melbourne? There's a place there if you wanted."

She looked into his face. She could still feel the warmth of his seed inside her, contrasting with the curious sensation of emptiness that his withdrawal had left. She could not imagine not being by his side again. "Of course," she said. 

"Are you worried that it might all happen again if you live with me?" He asked. "What about other people, Jen...you know, what they think." 

Jen smiled and reached out to touch him, to take him inside her again. 

"Fuck 'em," she said. 

*****

(c) Copyright. Hot_Sister July 11. Not to be copied in whole or in part without the express permission of the author. 



Falling for Jennifer



She didn't crouch down, either: she bent from the waist and her legs were apart a little so that her perfect ass was projected backwards, the cheeks opening slightly to reveal everything between them only a foot or two from my startled gaze. I saw the crinkled portal of her anus like a tiny closed eye winking at me, and just below it her cunt, moist from the shower and other juices. Her fingers closed over the scrap of material and she held her pose for a moment before she straightened and turned back to me. 

"Remember that in your bed tonight, David," she said sweetly, "and weep that you'll never get to taste it." She opened the door and with a final flounce of her perfect ass she was gone, and I heard the sound of her laughter as she walked down the corridor. 

When I turned back the covers to climb into bed that night I found her panties under the sheet with a little note in her neat, sloping handwriting. It said: 'Wet panties, wet dreams. Dry your tears on these.' They weren't as good as the real thing, but as a consolation present I could have done a lot worse.

***

Over the next few weeks the game that started so innocently became more intense. On the surface it was still innocuous - nothing more than sexual teasing, really: a contest to see if we could make the other uncomfortable without pushing them too far. Unspoken rules appeared: not to touch, primarily. I would have broken that rule in an instant, but Jen soon made it clear that any physical activity was off the list and after a couple of half-hearted attempts I complied. There was none of the play when Mum was around either, even if she was in another part of the house. This meant that for quite long periods of time we were models of behaviour towards each other - and then suddenly the coast would be clear and I might be treated to another flash of her pudenda; or another pair of worn panties would appear under my pillow with a little note dripping with innuendo. 

For me, it became more than a game. The initial delight in seeing her naked soon wore off and I wanted more. I longed to be able to touch her, to feel the satin lustre of her skin trembling under my fingertips, to press my mouth against the soft curves of her breasts and to taste her - and then, when I had played my game, to feel the tight sucking wetness of her flesh as I penetrated her. Sister or not, I wanted to fuck her. 

Even though I couldn't touch her intimately I tried to be with her whenever I could, even if it was only to be in the same room. I made sure there was casual contact as often as possible: my hand brushing against her hair as I walked past, my knee pressing against hers under the table. And when I couldn't touch her I watched instead, seeing things that I had never noticed before - like way she dressed: the colours and fabrics she liked, and the way she did her hair. I observed how she titled her head a little when she was concentrating, and how she caught her bottom lip between her little white teeth when she was lost in thought. I was captivated by her smile and consumed by the tumbling notes of her laughter, and each new discovery drew me deeper into her magic, until I was utterly transfixed. What had started as lust had grown to so much more. 

My world narrowed - driven by a need to be with her, to make her notice, to be accepted by her: but the more I tried the more she kept her distance, even avoiding eye contact for the most part. Our little game stopped, each of us aware that it was so much more than what it had been but neither knowing how to deal with it. We became like two strangers living together, each struggling to achieve what we wanted - for me, the desire to become part of her life; for her...well, I wasn't sure. 

It wasn't that she rejected me. Somehow she trod the fine line of still engaging me but at the same time drawing back, gradually revoking the licenses of the past few weeks. She knew how I felt about her, I think, and she responded with a brittle cheerfulness that denied any notion of avoidance; but sometimes when she thought I wasn't looking she would glance across at me, her expression serious, and I could sense the uncertainty and confusion and worry in her mind. 

One day I was sitting on my bed, holding my head in my hands. I had just left Jen in the lounge and I ached for her. There was a tap on the door and she pushed her head in. 

"Are you alright, David?" her voice was soft with concern. 

I stared at her. How could she not feel the same as me? "Not really."

"Is it something I can help with?"

I laughed, a bitter sound without humour. "Oh yes. But you won't."

She regarded me for a few seconds and then she turned away without responding and closed the door softly behind her. 

*****

"We need to talk, David." It was Saturday and we were at the breakfast table. Mum had just gone into the kitchen and Jen was leaning forward and whispering so that she wouldn't hear. 

I nodded, my eyes on her face. She was wearing a crisp white blouse and her hair was tied back loosely so that it hung around the pale column of her neck in a curtain of iridescent gold. Her eyes were a soft misty grey: the colour of a dove's wing, and her lips were soft and pink. God, she looked good. How was it that I hadn't noticed these things before? 

I sat awkwardly while Mum fussed around, until Jen finally managed to shoo her out to the shops. She came back into the kitchen without saying anything and she moved to the sink and started washing up, rattling them as if angry. The house was quiet and we didn't speak, and the tension grew until it was almost palpable. I stared at the top of the table, wondering what she was going to say if she ever got around to it. 

"We can't go on like this, you know," she said suddenly, turning towards me. 

"Like what, Jen?"

Her lips trembled a little. "Like - well, like we weren't brother and sister."

"I don't know what you mean. I haven't touched you - I haven't -"

"But you think it, David! I've seen you looking at me...I see what's in your eyes as plain as day." She brushed a strand of errant hair back from her forehead, leaving a smear of soapy water on her skin. "It's like living with a different person...there's this - thing, between us, you know...like an unspoken -" she struggled to find the words, and after a moment she shook her head. "I can't describe it. It's a barrier between us, you know? I just feel that you're on the edge, waiting all the time for a chance that will never happen. I don't want that, David. I want to go back to how we were." 

I remained silent. How could she ever think that things would ever be the same again? 

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?"

I smiled at her, my heart thumping. "What do you want me to say?"

"That it's not true! That I'm imaging it all, and everything between us is the same. Tell me that you don't care, David. Tell me -"

"But it is true, Jen. Everything you said - except for the bit about never happening."

She stopped in mid sentence, her mouth open. I stood up and moved towards her, watching her expression, seeing the wind go out of her. I lifted my hand and touched her cheek with the tip of one finger. "It is true," I repeated. "I do want you."

She made a sound of dismissal. "But I'm your sister."

"It doesn't matter. I still want you. Ever since you came into my room I can't stop thinking about you -"

"That was pay back for the bathroom thing," she interrupted. "Don't you remember? It was a joke."

"Not for me." I shook my head. "Since then I've opened my eyes and seen you for the first time, I think - the way you look and the way you dress." I cupped her face with my hand, my fingertips brushing the soft skin behind her ear. "And the things you do...the little habits and idiosyncrasies. You are perfect, Jen...of course I want you."

She made no effort to pull away. Her eyes were swimming pools of grey emotion, struggling to deal with what I had just said and finding no answer. I could feel the soft skin of her cheek rubbing against my hand and the strands of her hair brushing against the back of my fingers. "We can't, David," she said at last. 

"Why not?"

"Because once we start we couldn't stop. It would consume us." She was staring at me, her voice almost pleading. "And it would hurt those who are closest to us."

"So you've thought about it, then."

She didn't reply, but the look in her eyes told me that she had. I suddenly realised that it wasn't me she was worried about. She wanted to play, but was worried about the consequences. My heart lurched a little - what had seemed to be impossible was suddenly attainable. 

"You want it too," I said softly. "I can see it. You feel it too."

She gazed at me without replying and I saw her eyes change, the shadows of uncertainty replaced by something else - not longing or desire, exactly, but need. I watched her lips open slightly, soft and pink with the gleam of her little white teeth behind them and I could see a pulse at the base of her throat beating softly as she waited. It was as if she had suddenly given up and surrendered the initiative, and in that instant she looked young and vulnerable and incredibly beautiful. 

I curled my fingers around her neck and drew her slowly towards me. For a moment she hesitated, pulling back against my hand, but then she relaxed and she turned her head a little so that her lips fitted over mine, and we kissed. 

Her lips were incredibly soft, just as I had imagined they would be, and her tongue moved languorously inside my mouth. My senses were suddenly in overdrive, every neuron in my body aware of her and what she was doing: the pressure of her arms around me, the sweetness of her breath and the taste of her mouth. Her fingers were in my hair, the same ones that had traced a path along the length of my cock and had touched the warm ooze of my pre-cum. The length of her body was pressed against me and I rested my hands on her hips, feeling their warmth through the material of her dress, just as if there was nothing between us. My fingers were on the small of her back and I slid them down to her ass, cupping her buttocks, pulling her closer so that she was crushed against me. My cock was like a steel girder, pressing hard against her belly and I knew she could feel it. I heard her groan into my mouth and then she pulled her face away a little to talk. 

"Jesus, David....don't. We shouldn't -" and then her lips were on mine again, pressing hard, her tongue into my mouth. 

I remembered how her ass had looked when she bent over - the smooth ivory of her skin and the delicious divide between her buttocks and her anus nestling between then, so fresh and pink - and the moist slit of her vagina beyond. I curled my fingers around her cheeks, pressing the material in between them, my fingertips reaching in, reaching in. She was pressing her body against me and rubbing herself against the logjam in my pants, and her nipples drilled into my chest like heated pebbles.

Her dress had ridden up now and my fingers were touching her panties, pressing into her crack. She lifted one leg and hooked it over my hip and I could feel the heat and wetness there, the gusset slick under my touch, and my heart was pounding. I wanted this to go on forever, to keep touching her. She pressed her face into my shoulder, her hands gripping me tightly, and we clutched at each other in desperation in the quietness of the house, my fingers dipping under the strip of material - touching her there for the first time, slippery with her juices. Her sex was like a flower under my fingers, the labia folded back and the centre wet and open like ripe fruit. I pressed my fingers in, sliding into her body. 

"Oh God..." her voice muffled, "Oh, yes." 

She was standing on tiptoe now, her other leg curled around me and my fingers were inside her, feeling the juices bubbling at her cunt. So tight. I began to undo my belt with my free hand, fumbling with the clasp. 

She shook her head, her voice muffled in my shirt. "No, David, no. Mum will be back soon. Not that, please. Just....do what you're doing." A tremor went through her body. "Ah! Just there, move your fingers...yes, like that, just like that."

She pressed into my shoulder again and the cascade of her hair was against my face, the strands glossy and perfumed. Her hands were clutching me, fluttering like little birds with the intensity of her pleasure, and an occasional groan escaped from her lips. My fingers eased in and out, her juices leaking from her slit and dripping over my hand and she was jerking a little and writhing as I penetrated her. So hot, so hot. She rubbed herself against me, my fingers jammed in her cunt and her mound pressed against my thigh, rubbing, frantic. So hot.

Her face tilting up now, eyes liquid. "I'm going to cum," she whispered, "Yes, David....ah, just there. Oooo, yes." Her hips pressed hard against me and my fingers were dipping, rubbing, pushing in and out. Exquisite, the heat and the smell of her body, quivering as she spiraled up, her head arching back, lips open. 

I watched as she came for me: her eyes tightly shut and her face contorted as she rode the long breakers of pleasure. Her pussy was fluttering under my fingers in tight little contractions, creaming me, her labia pressed against my knuckles; her hands clasping, gripping me, clutching me tightly as she writhed in her ecstasy. She was whimpering and I heard my own voice, urging her on, telling her I loved her, telling her she was mine. My heart hammered in my chest and my cock was fit to burst inside my pants. It was so close to her clasping, oozing cunt. I wanted to be inside her.

For a long time we clutched each other frantically, her body twitching with the intensity of her cum and then the waves gradually subsided and she came back from the edge, spiraling down slowly. I eased my fingers out of her pussy, rubbing them lightly over her labia. So horny, so wet. I want to fuck her now, to bend her over and take her. 

She turned her face toward me, her eyes shining, her teeth white and even as she smiled up at me and her voice was filled with awe. "Wow! How the hell did that happen?" I bent forward and kissed her open mouth, my tongue inside her. Her taste had changed, somehow, as if she had sex on her lips. She responded, her body still hot against mine. 

And suddenly we heard the sound of keys in the front door and the squeak of the hinges as it opened. My mother's voice calling from the hallway as if she somehow knew she should make a sound to give us warning. "Yooo-hoo, I'm back!"

We leapt apart and I stumbled backwards, seeing Jen smooth her dress down and turn back to the sink with an expression of panic on her face. I grabbed the cornflake box and pretended to read it, my heart hammering and my cock still thick in my pants as she came in, her eyes wide with surprise. 

"You still having breakfast, David? What a slow coach - haven't you done anything yet?" 

She was right...I'd done nothing. A job unfinished and the chance gone. 

***

Lying on her bed that night, breaking the rules because Mum was in her room at the other end of the house. Silent kisses, sweeter than honey. Whispers in the night. 

"This is crazy, David. We can't do it, you know that don't you?"

I nodded, my mouth against the skin of her neck, fragrant with her scent. 

"It's not that I don't want to," she continued. "We just can't."

"Mmmm". My most non-committal grunt. There was no way I was going to agree with what she was saying. My fingers were on her nightie, silky smooth, grasping the warm curve of her breast. I rolled a nipple in my fingers and it swelled like a ripe gooseberry. 

"Are you listening to me?" She seized a handful of my hair and levered me up so she could look at me. Her eyes flashed in the dim light. "You're my brother. We can't...do it, d'you hear?"

I nodded again. She was exquisite, perfect...and nearly mine. 

"Promise me," she persisted. Her voice was almost pleading. "Promise me you won't try."

"Alright." I hoped I sounded convincing. 

She looked at me for a moment longer, but I must have satisfied her because she pulled me down to her face and her lips opened under mine. So soft...so perfect. I wanted this to last for ever. God, I needed her. The window drapes were back and she was lying on top of the bedclothes, her body bathed in moonlight: hills of silver and valleys of shadow. All that was between us was the scrap of her nightie and my boxers. I squeezed her breast again, the nipple drilling into my palm and she groaned into my mouth. 

"Mmmmm. Oh, yes. Touch me more."

I released her breast and slid my hand over the silky material ... across the smooth skin of her belly and into the crease where it met one thigh, then down to their juncture. I was expecting panties but there were none: only her naked flesh. My fingers brushed over her labia and she jerked a little at my touch, groaning in her throat as they teased her vulva, dipping into her again. 

Her mouth was pressed against my ear, whispering. "God, I'm so wet for you. You make me wet. Taste it."

I lifted my fingers from her pussy and pressed them between us, feeling her tongue brushing against mine as she licked with me. Her little pink tongue darting between my fingers, scooping the juice into her mouth, licking them clean. The taste of her cunt on my lips. Her breath against my cheek, panting with desire, so hot...my sister, so hot. How had it come to this? I wanted the night to go on forever.

She was mumbling between the kisses, her voice scratchy with lust. "Jesus, David...ah, yes! Touch me there, inside. Oooh, just there." Her body was completely open to me, trembling as my fingers dipped into her and my cock was like an iron bar against her thigh, harder than any time in my life. She moved her hand down to grip the shaft, slipping under the elastic of my shorts and encircling it, her fingers cool against the hot flesh and she groaned again, her words punctuated with hot little kisses on my mouth.

"We can't David...no, this is crazy....we can't do...it."

My mouth moving down to her neck, into the hollow there, the skin soft and fragrant against my lips, then down, across the rumpled material of her nightie, feeling the swell of her nipple pressing through the thin silk...then down further until the skin of her abdomen touched my lips. I was kneeling over her with my fingers still in her pussy, my tongue leaving a little silver trail of saliva on the smooth brown skin of her belly, down towards her liquid core. She released my cock and I saw her licking her fingers again, her lips shiny with my pre-cum, her little pink tongue lapping, lapping and her eyes luminescent in the moonlight. My little pussycat, purring as she licks the cream.

And then I was there, the tip of my tongue at her opening to dip into her essence. She groaned again - a sort of growl as I nuzzled her lips, and she opened her thighs to expose herself fully, one leg either side of my face whilst I knelt at the altar of her sex. 

I was kneeling at my sister's cunt, lapping at her honeypot. The weeks of heartache and the long, lonely nights of dreaming had gone, and I was here in her room, eating her pussy. She was writhing under me and gasping, her hands gripping my head and stroke of my tongue drew a groan from her throat...purring, purring. Long, slow strokes with the flat of my tongue from her perineum to her clitoris, flattening the rubbery lips of her vulva and scooping the slippery juices into my greedy mouth. 

My sister's nectar on my lips. Curling the tip of my tongue to dip into her to suck her essence into my mouth, my hands on her thighs to hold her against my face...my cheeks and lips soaking wet with her cream. She was amazing, perfect, and I if I played the game right she would be mine for the night.




Falling for Jennifer



And then she pushed me up and rolled to her knees, her eyes shining in the moonlight. "Now you," she whispered and she rolled on the bed, the mattress squeaking in protest, and she lay on her back with her head lolling over the side.

I stared at her, not getting it. "What do you want?" I asked. I didn't care. Anything would do as long as it involved putting my cock into her somewhere. It was throbbing, desperate to feel her warmth.

"Do my face." She smiled, her teeth white and her hair hanging down like a golden curtain. Her body spreadeagled on the covers, her hands by her sides and her legs open, long and delicious. 

I scooted round the bed and stood over her, looking down. My cock was massively hard, bobbing in front of her lips and she giggled. She was trying to capture me with her mouth, moving her head from side to side as it swayed over her, tongue flicking out like a snake's. She giggled. "You look like the incredible stretching man from this angle." 

"I am, I am." I laughed with her. "I can stretch my body into any imaginable form, Sis. How would you like a five foot cock?" 

She giggled again. "I think I've got one here already." The head was bobbing against her lips but the angle was wrong and she could not capture it. She gave up and grabbed me with her hand, feeding the end into her mouth and tilting her head to clear her airway ready for my entry.

I slid into her until the bulbous head of my cock was trapped in the confines of her throat. I could hear her gagging and I pulled back, savouring the slippery withdrawal until just the head was in her mouth. I could see her between my legs: her tight little mouth clamped around the head of my cock whilst she sucked at me like a popsicle; and I watched the long slow slide into her again, feeling her teeth scraping lightly on the rod until it was buried in her face up to my nuts. She was grunting, the vibrations thrumming through my shaft, and I could feel the leak of my juices dribbling out of me, trickling down her throat. 

She let my cock drop out of her mouth, long enough to talk before swallowing me again. "Eat me too, David," she said. 

I seized her buttocks and rolled her hips towards me, her weight on her shoulders now and her mouth still full of my prick. My hands were either side of her cunt and I levered her apart, watching as her opening gaped wide, and I plunged my face into her. She was so wet: it was all over my lips and it smeared the insides of her legs, gleaming silver in the moonlight. I stabbed her with my tongue, the sharp essence of her arousal tart on my lips and I knew I had to have her: to fill her vacant, yearning body, to fuck her on this little narrow bed in the moonlit silence of the house. 

I flung her legs back on the bed and lifted her shoulders, swiveling her on the covers and climbing over her, pushing her legs open so she was prostrate under me. She knew what was coming and she gazed at me with hungry eyes, all thoughts of denial gone. 

For a few seconds we stared at each other, aware that we were on the brink of an irreversible chasm: and then I plunged forward, my cock sliding into her liquid heat in one long delicious thrust. 

How can I describe that moment? It was as if we were made for each other. Her cunt devoured me, its warmth and wetness enveloping my shaft like a perfect glove. I could feel the clasp of her flesh around the bulbous head, the walls of her vagina moving reluctantly aside as I slid inexorably towards her belly. She was spectacularly tight, her vulva gripping my cock like a second mouth, squeezing my swollen flesh until I was fully immersed into her. Her face was close to mine, her nails digging into my back as she rode out the long slide of that first penetration. I heard the hiss of her breath in my ear as I bottomed out and then we were as one, stilled for a few moments as we both savoured the incredible feeling of fullness. She lifted her thighs and locked her feet over my back. 

She was murmuring, crooning almost, her words like warm honey dripping into my ear. 

"I wanted this, David, from the moment I saw you in your room. It's so wrong...I know it's wrong, but I don't care. Do anything you want." And then a few moments later, "Ah, that's good! So fucking good. Can you feel me, David? Tell me what it's like." 

She began to undulate her torso back and forth, rocking her hips under me, my cock sawing into her. Each stroke broke the tight seal of our union and I could hear the sucking of our flesh, the soft sound of fucking filling the room. "Is that good?" she whispered again. "Tell me what you feel."

My own voice, groaning with the incredible pleasure of it all, my words thready and tremulous. "I'm deep inside you Jen, buried in you. I can feel your pussy sucking at me, sucking me in -" 

"Yes, yes! I'm sucking your cock into me." She shifted her hands, clasping my hips, rocking me back and forth with her thrusts. "Push it deep...ah, yes. Fucking with my brother. Tell me how you'll use my tight little cunt."

"I'll fuck you forever, buried inside you."

Her breasts against my chest and her lips at mine, nibbling. I picked up the stroke, my own hips thrusting in time with her movements, my cock flying into her. Incredible. Beautiful. More than that, but there were no words to describe it. She was a goddess sheathed in gold, warm and pliable under me, and she was mine. Her body welcoming me into its secret depths and her long legs were wrapped around me. She was perfect in every way and I was fucking her. 

Long, slow strokes, changing the angle to penetrate every corner of her cunt. Sometimes I stopped with just the head buried inside her, delighting in the grip of her vulva on the rim of my cock- and she would pause too, waiting for me to fill her again. Her pussy was twitching around me and her mouth opened under mine, our tongues entwined; and then she would reach down and seize my buttocks, guiding me forward in a long wet slide into her again, and she would give this little growl deep in her throat. 

I could feel the seeds of my first orgasm, the tingling in my balls and the gathering whirlwind in my brain, and she sensed it, whispering to me as I pounded her. "Come into me, David," she said, "fill me up." She rolled her hips upward, shifting her legs higher to give me deeper access. "Fuck me deep...ah, yes. That's it! Fuck your sister's pussy and fill it up," and then that little growl again. 

Deeper now, the head of my prick lodged far into her body, the head close to the hungry little mouth of her cervix. My balls banging against her ass, soaking, sopping wet, and all the time her whispering in my ear. "Spray into me, baby. Fill up my pussy...I'm ready - ah, yes, I feel it coming, David. I can feel it coming now."

And from the back of my brain the tsunami rushed into my consciousness, devouring every sensation except the feeling of that warm sinuous body moving underneath me and the tight clasp of her pussy around my shaft. I could feel an ocean of sperm bubbling in my balls, swirling and seething like boiling magma on the brink of eruption: and then the dam gates were opened and the first jet surged through my rod to burst inside her. I felt her spasm underneath me as the heat of my emission triggered her own orgasm, and her cunt contracted violently to suck at me like a hungry mouth, drawing the seed from me like a vacuum cleaner. I heard her cry out and she seized my buttocks, pulling me into her even deeper just as the first scalding jet splattered deep inside her body. 

And in the confines of her little bed we clutched at each other as if drowning, our muffled cries of ecstasy filling the room. Our bodies were twined together, muscles straining, her face pressed into my neck and her legs locked around me. Her pussy was milking me with strong rhythmic contractions and my sperm pumped freely - long, searing ribbons of boiling jism splattering against the walls of her cunt, filling the nooks and crevices around her cervix and oozing back along my shaft to bubble around her fluttering lips. I could hear her crying, telling me that she loved me and that she always would - and my own voice responding, lost in wonder at the girl underneath me...my sister. 

And at last the storm subsided and we lay still, the chill of the evening air cooling the sweat on our bodies. My cock was still embedded inside her and I could feel the product of our lovemaking leaking around it, dripping over my balls to stain the sheets beneath us. I pushed myself up and gazed at her face: at her shining eyes and smiling mouth, and I heard her voice soft in the silence of the room. 

"Stay inside me, David," she said. "Stay and fuck me all night." 

*****

Copyright (c) Hot_Sister. July 2011. 

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