10 comments/ 232255 views/ 17 favorites The Sister Dares By: OregonDavid I am not much to look at any more. I am twenty years past my prime, when I played college basketball and I could easily persuade any girl I met that an evening playing one-on-one with me would be a game they would want to play again and again. No, now I am in my forties, my taut abs have given way to a paunch that threatens to overlap my belt, my well-defined arms are not quite so defined. The only thing that people says hasn't changed is my blue eyes and my ready smile. I ain't complaining. It's been a good run. I've got a lovely wife and four beautiful daughters and life is good. My oldest will be leaving college in a year and my youngest is a junior in high school. They all take after their mother, long legs, long blonde hair, easy tans, and they are all gifted athletes. They did get their blue eyes from me. Their mother has green eyes. We all love to go to the beach and hang out. We surf, play volleyball, the girls check out the boys and I check out the boys who are checking out my girls. It's not that I am a prude, but I slept with more than a hundred women before I got married and I know how easily young women can be persuaded to drop their inhibitions and their panties at the same time. When we aren't at the beach, we are out by the pool, grillin' and chillin'. I've been pretty fortunate in my career and I can afford all the creature comforts. When I finished up my college playing days, I knew that the NBA was a no-chance for me. But others on my team did have a good chance and what they didn't have was a clue in how to pick an agent. So I helped them screen agents and for my troubles I got a job as an agent's assistant for one of the biggest talent management firms in the world. It didn't take me long to become an agent myself, building up my own client list and after five years I was made partner. Now I am the managing partner of the West Coast Division for Talent Associates. I make an obscene amount of money and I only work hard a few days a month. Life is very good. About a month ago one of my junior agents was having trouble locking down a contract on a very talented wide receiver from a Division II school near the Oregon/California border. If you know college football, you know which school and by association, which athlete I am referring to, but that's not important to this tale. What IS important is that I have family in the town where this stud plays. So I decided to use a little management prerogative and make a trip up there myself to get this young man to sign on the dotted line. His signature would mean that he would like get 3-5 million dollars more in signing bonus and first contract. When TA walks into the room, every general manager in the NFL knows that the price of poker just went up. I called my sister and her husband to see if they would be interested in dinner after my arrival. "Hey sis, it's your favorite brother. I am flying up tonight." "That's great Dave. Maybe we can get together when you are here." "Funny you should ask, I am hoping to take you both out to dinner tonight." "Well, tonight might not work." "Is Matt working late?" "I guess I should just tell you. Matt left me. He has moved in with his secretary. He's been gone nearly five weeks. I thought it might be just a mid-life fling, but I haven't heard or seen him since he left....." She was crying and I felt terrible about it. "Listen Beck, I will be there by 4. You get yourself all dolled up and I am going to take you to my favorite restaurant tonight. I have one stop to make, but I should be at your house by 6:30." "I don't think I am going to be up to it." "Nonsense. Get yourself dressed and be ready. I won't take NO for an answer." "Oh, all right." She hung up the phone. I made a couple of extra phone calls, one to my wife saying that something had come up and not to expect my home until the next day, and one to the pilot of my private jet telling him that we were only going to layover at our first stop, our second stop would be Seattle. On the flight up I thought about my sister Becky and her husband Matt. I never cared for him, but I never told her that. I felt like she had married way beneath her and that he had kept her from reaching her fullest potential. I also thought back to a few special days when we were both horny adolescents and the Truth-or-Dare games we would play, sometime leading us dangerously close to something particularly incestful. But I had supported Becky and Matt throughout their married life, both emotionally and financially. I know Matt never told Becky that two or three times a year he would put the touch on me for money. I never refused his request because money is something I always have plenty of, and because I knew that to refuse him would cause my sister and my godchildren to suffer needlessly. But my loathing of him grew with each request for more. The flight up from my offices in LA to the sleepy college town was uneventful. We were wheels down by 3:47 and I was on campus by 4:05. By 4:15 I was in the room of a top ten draft pick and by 5:00 I had his name inked to an exclusive rights contract. He had an agent and I had made more than a million dollars for the firm. I gave him my card with all of my personal numbers on it. A handful of my best clients get all of my personal numbers. Numbers that are always answered promptly and requests made by the men calling those numbers were also fulfilled immediately, no questions asked. A good agency might help you move. We are the kind of agency that will help you move bodies. I stayed and visited with a couple of underclassmen on the basketball team who I thought had some potential and gave them my other business cards. The telephone numbers on those cards rang into my team of junior agents who were trying to build their own books. They would be good clients, just not uberclients like this wide receiver. I also stopped and talked with his coach, who in the course our conversation mentioned in passing something about budget cuts and not being able to afford some new equipment. I made a couple of quick calls and the needed equipment was available at a discount and one of my clients, another former athlete of this coach, was picking up the tab. The coach never asked me for a favor, didn't imply that he wanted one, didn't hint that he needed one. I did what I did because in the future I might need a favor myself, when a promising young quarterback was having a hard time deciding to go with TA or IMG. This goodwill gesture could come back to pay me a thousand times over or even a million times over. Or it might not. That's the risk I was willing to take. It helped that my reputation as a zealous protector and champion of my clients was without blemish. By 6:15 I pulled up in front of my sisters comfortable middle class home. My niece and goddaughter Melissa answered the door. At 18 she was a stunning beauty. All curves and sex appeal. If she had been so inclined, I could have had her adorning billboards and checkout counter magazine racks for the last two years. Instead she was a brainiac, studying hard to get into Berkeley to study something I don't understand. She gave me a warm hug and a peck on the cheek. "Hello Uncle D. Come on in. Mom's upstairs getting ready. Where are you taking her?" "Carmelo's." "Carmelo's?" she asked. "Where is that?" "Up north a ways. We might be late, you and your sisters shouldn't wait up." I made my way into the house and upstairs to the second floor. I've been there before, dozens of times. I know where Becky's room is. I knock on the door lightly and my sister answered. "Come in." I opened the door and stepped in and caught an eyeful of something I hadn't expected. There stood my sister in black lacy bra and French cut black lace panties, not quite a thong but not quite the middle age undergarments I would have expected. She was wearing real silk stockings, sheer and shimmering. "Wow sis, you look great!" I was being honest. She must have been working out hard to keep that kind of shape. Firm and curved only where curves belonged. Not a bit of cellulite from my vantage, her breasts though not large, were not flat or sagging. She spun around. "David! I thought you were Melissa or Andrea. I am not dressed. Avert your eyes!" "Not a chance, sis. You are one hot mama. If you weren't my sister....." "If I weren't your sister.......what? You'd stare at me?" She laughed and so did I, but I didn't take my eyes off of her. "You'd probably start something you couldn't finish because of the ring on your finger. I know you, you love to talk. But you let one of your assistance do the real work." "Not in this case," I answered truthfully. "In your case I would spend a good deal of time servicing your needs, as I do for all of my most special clients." She continued to get dressed, pulling on a black silk camisole and a black silk cocktail dress whose hem barely reached the top of her stockings. Very stunning. She finished off the look with a string of pearls and pearl and diamond earrings. She spritzed herself with Chanel No. 5, the one perfume that always gets my attention. "I'm ready, let's go." I guided her out the door, down the stairs and out to my waiting car. The driver already knew our intended destination and headed there immediately. When we arrived at the small local airport, my jet was already waiting, lights blinking and turbines turning. "Just where are we going?" "Someplace special. It will take about an hour to get there. We should have some refreshments on board if you are hungry." She didn't protest, she just climbed aboard and took a seat in one of the comfortable leather lounges in the middle of the cabin. I did the same across the aisle from her. I pressed a button on the side of my arm rest and the captain responded by immediately instructing the crew to get underway. Twenty minutes before my sister was partially dressed and now she was airborne, moving along at nearly the twice the speed of sound and enjoying a gin and tonic and the view. So was I. Her view was of the Cascade Mountains, gliding beneath us. My view was somewhat closer and easier to see. My sister Becky was stunning, absolutely stunning. Thoughts crept into my head, memories, fantasies, all leading to the same conclusion, I averted my gaze finally just to break that endless lustful loop playing over and over in my head. "Is that Portland?" she asked, seeing the lights of a large city sliding by. "Probably," I answered, craning to see past her. I left my seat and placed my hand on her armrest to see better out of her side of the plane. When I looked down, I could see that nest of cleavage that I wanted to make a bed in. I felt my cock starting to stiffen and I quickly sat back down. We made small talk the few remaining minutes in the air before landing on the private jet runway at SeaTac airport. We rolled to a stop in the transient hangars and a limousine pulled up to then gangway. We stepped out of the G5 and into the black limo, pausing only to note that it was chilly in Seattle. When isn't it chilly in Seattle? The car made its way to Carmelo's, a family owned Italian restaurant owned by another client and run by his parents. We arrived at the front door and the valet held the limo door open for us as we were ushered right inside, past the scores of waiting patrons, and to our waiting table. At the table was an open bottle of local red wine of exceedingly superior quality. Antipasti, salad, fish, pasta, veal, and brandied apricots followed. During the meal she told me all about Matt and how he had been having an affair with his secretary for years, finally leaving Becky to move in with the other woman. I just nodded and tried to be supportive, though inside I was seething. With a couple of calls I might be able for him to have a fatal "accident". I just couldn't do that to my goddaughters. From time to time I would lay my hand on top of hers, trying to appear like I was just the caring big brother, but in reality I was just trying to touch her, each time my skin brushed hers I could feel a jolt of electricity surge through me. "I know you've been supporting us David," she finally blurted out. "I know Matt has been putting his hand out and you've been covering it for him." "It was the least I could do. He never needed much, just a little extra now and then to do something special for you and the girls." "There's no need to lie for him. I know it was more than a 'little extra'. I'll pay it back just as soon as I can. As soon as I figure out how." "Pay it back? Never! I won't hear of it. In fact, I am putting you on an allowance. The girls too. There is no way I am going to let my favorite sister or my goddaughters want for anything. College, weddings, cars, clothes, vacations, you name it, you'll have it." She started to cry. "I knew you'd say that. I feel so ashamed." "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You married a loser but he gave you three bright and beautiful daughters. It was a steep price, but I think you came out all right. Besides, I have plenty of money and you are my favorite sister." "Oh David!" She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and hugged me tight. I could feel her breasts pressed into my chest and deeply inhaled her perfume. Even if I wasn't rich, I would have found a way to support her. We finished up dinner and dessert and my cell phone vibrated. I looked at the caller and immediately picked up. "Hello Janet, what's wrong?" My top assistant would only call if it was an emergency, she knew the protocol during my family time. "Your pilot just picked up the weather report for your return destination. Fog has moved in and is not expected to lift until after noon tomorrow. They are VFR only and that means you can't fly back tonight. I've arranged for a suite at the Crowne for tonight. Your driver already has been notified of the change in plans and the concierge has arranged for suitable travel apparel for your sister for tomorrow. Your suits will be delivered from the jet to the hotel in the next ten minutes. Will there be anything else?" "What movies are playing in our hotel suite?" "Jerry Maguire of course." We both laughed. "Thank you Janet, do something nice for yourself as well." "Already have. Jonathan will be cutting my hair tomorrow at three." Now it was my turn to laugh. So what it was a fifteen hundred dollar haircut, Janet was the best there ever was. I'd pay ten times that to keep her happy and she knew it, but she never took advantage of it. That's a loyalty that I would never forget. I hung up the phone. "Fog at your house means we are stuck here overnight. I guess we can have one more bottle of wine and then its off to the Motel 6 for two rounds of Magic Fingers in the vibrating beds and the late, late show." We did get another bottle of very good chardonnay and sat with the proprietors of the establishment to share it. When it was finally time for us to leave, they wouldn't let me pay the bill. I insisted on leaving a generous tip and to this they finally acquiesced. We got back into our waiting limo and were taken directly to the Crowne hotel, Seattle's most posh. I slid a few hundreds at the driver and thanked him for the service and he promised to be available whenever we needed him in the morning, beginning bright and early. I told him no sooner than eight. The concierge was waiting for us at the glass and brass doors and walked us to the bank of elevators himself. He handed a gold card to an attendant the materialized from somewhere. This attendant inserted the gold card into our private elevator and we were soundlessly lifted into the night sky of Seattle. I tried to tip the attendant but I was rebuffed. "My name is Wade, I am the butler for this suite. Press any gold button in any room and I will answer. Your suits are in the closet in the master suite sir, and your dresses are in the walk in closet in the master bath Madame." "My dresses?" Becky asked. "I didn't bring any extra clothing...." "It's all been arranged Mrs. Paul." He gave us a brief tour of the suite and then soundlessly disappeared. I had a feeling Wade could give Janet a run for his money. "Did you hear that? He thought I was your wife." Becky laughed and I was glad to hear it. She had done far too little laughing throughout the evening. "Let's go look at my wardrobe." Instead of a few changes in clothing, the entire walk-in closet was completely filled with all sorts of apparel from casual to formal and sporty to sexy. She pulled out a silk teddy and held it out for my inspection. "I don't like it," I stated. "It doesn't look good on a hangar." "Where do you think it WOULD look good?" "On you," I replied boldly. "For a minute. Then it would look great flung over the lamp across the room." "David," she scolded me. "You are so bad!" "Don't mind me. It's just the wine talking. And the twenty-something years I've had the hots for you." She blushed. "Do you remember that game we played as kids, 'Truth-or-Dare?'" I acted like I was having a hard time remembering then I replied. "Vaguely." "Let's play again." "OK, but let's get a drink first." I went to the bar and made a pitcher of Tom Collins's and grabbed two tall glasses filled with ice and headed to the gigantic leather couch that faced the Seattle skyline, now somewhat below us and spread out like a blanket of lights. "Do you want to go first?" "Sure," she replied. "Truth-or-Dare?" "Truth." "Just how many women have you slept with?" "I honestly don't know. Maybe a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty." She seemed shocked by the number. "My turn. Truth or dare?" "Truth." "How many men have YOU slept with?" "One." "Just Matt? I'm so sorry sis. Was he any good?" "I don't think so. I never had an orgasm with him." "You've never had an orgasm?" "I didn't say that. Just not with him. My girlfriend bought me a little helper and that has kept my sex life somewhat tolerable. But that's too many questions. My turn: Truth or dare?" "Truth." "Have you ever had sexual thoughts about a member of your family?" "Sure. I am having some right now, thank you for the reminder." I laughed and took a moment to pour us each another Tom Collins. "Truth or Dare?" "Truth." "Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about.....me?" There was a long pause. She looked away, sighed, and turned to face me. She raised her eyes to meet mine. "Yes." She bit her lower lip as she said it, wondering if she might have gone too far. "Truth or dare?" she finally asked. "Dare." I was eager to move the subject to something else before my fantasy collided with reality. "I dare you to kiss me." The combination of alcohol and altitude must be affecting her, I thought. But I kissed her anyway. She didn't kiss like my sister. She kissed like my lover, passionate and fiery. It was a full thirty seconds before we broke apart. "Truth or dare?" I asked. "Dare," she challenged me. "I dare you to let me strip you." She turned bright crimson and shook her head, earring sparkling as she did so. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay." I moved closer to her and undid the single catch that was holding her dress in place. It slid off of her shoulders and around her waist. "Stand," I commanded and she did, allowing the dress to puddle up at her feet. I lifted the silk camisole over her head and was left with the red bra and panties as well as the garters and silk stockings. I pulled her closer and kissed her stomach and the V between her breasts. I kissed and nibbled the bare skin between her stockings and her panties. I unclipped the stockings and gently rolled them down her legs, she took a seat on the couch and I knelt before her to remove them all the way. I nuzzled her feet, which was a surprising turn-on for her. I reached up and deftly undid the single clasp on the front of her lacy brassiere. It parted, revealing two perfectly shaped breasts of a young woman, including the pert and erect nipples. I licked each breast in turn, carefully avoiding any contact with her aereolas. The Sister Dares Ch. 02 Author's note. I received a great deal of feedback from the original version of this story. I have corrected a couple of the bigger mistakes and changed the ending for the first chapter. The first bit of this chapter is actually the rewritten end of the first chapter. I will admit that when I reread it, I didn't like the final few paragraphs as much as I did when they happened. Please indulge me this vanity and allow me to rewrite history, at least this once. Thank you for your patience and understanding. "I dare you to let me fuck you from behind." She responded by rolling over on her stomach, one leg on the couch, one knee on the floor. "Go easy. Matt tried this once and I didn't like it. It's not very intimate. But a dare is a dare." I positioned my engorged length at the warm moistness of her cunt. But before taking advantage of the situation, I decided to have some fun first. I began kissing and nibbling her ass cheeks and licking around her asshole, determined to both tease her and get her loosened up for the onslaught that was coming. She wriggled and squirmed, but she didn't try to get away. I lowered my head until just the tip of my tongue was darting to and fro across her slit. When I replaced my tongue with my cock again, Becky was much more receptive. This time I slipped the head in past her outer lips without resistance. When the thicker meat of my cock tried to enter behind, that's when the pain started for her. "Slow down." I did. "Nice and easy now," she instructed. "That's it." I pressed forward half an inch at a time until I had my entire length in her, reaching deeper than I had in the other positions. Then I pulled back until only the tip of my cock remained hidden and pressed forward again. Each stroke got me a little deeper. I made long, slow strokes and Becky began to moan. Hard, short strokes and she moaned harder. Fast strokes and she moaned faster. Hard, long, fast strokes and she began to buck wildly. I put rubbed my thumbs on her ass crack, spreading the cheeks. I gathered some of her wetness with my thumb tips and rubbed it on her brown rose. I could feel her sphincter muscles twitching from the excitement, faster and faster until the ring of muscles was fluttering. That was enough for me. We came together, me slamming her from behind for all I was worth until finally we both collapsed onto the sofa. She was face down, legs spread, me face down on her back, my semi-hard cock buried into her now sore pussy. "Oh my God," she finally spoke. "It's my turn. Truth or dare?" To be continued...................... "Truth." I was too exhausted for a dare. "Why did we do what we just did?" I couldn't tell if this was real curiosity or post-coital guilt. It was kind of an awkward question for a sister to ask her brother, who was currently laying on top of her with his well spent cock buried in her now gooey quim. I don't know if I forgot the question or was too enthralled by the fulfillment of my lifelong fantasy, but I took a long time to come up with my answer. "I did it because I love you and I have always loved you. I did it because you are beautiful and special. I did it because I have always wanted to do it and tonight the opportunity seemed right. We are both grown ups, long past the feigned abhorrence for this societal taboo. I find you attractive in so many ways and this was just my selfish way of demonstrating that to you." I used flattery, logic, and honesty, three traits that usually sold the contract to my clients. "Why do you think we did it?" "I think," she replied slowly, "I think we did it because we can and because it felt so damned GOOD!" She was chuckling now. Her giggle were making her pussy throb, causing my dick to get hard again. She could feel this and panicked. "Please don't fuck me again right now. I am exhausted. If you make me climax like that again, I will just be ruined for other men." She strained to raise us both up, but was enjoying the liquid velvet of her pussy as it surrounded my engorging member. I made her struggle for a bit before I reluctantly pulled out, my cock attached to her pussy with a long umbilical of my cum and her secretions. I lifted my self to a seated position on the couch and reached for my Tom Collins. A long sip and I felt refreshed. I set the cold glass down on my burning groin, refreshed by its chilly contents being rubbed along my semi-hard cock. Becky slowly got to her feet and went into the gigantic bathroom and I could hear the water running in the Jacuzzi. In a few minutes she called out. "There's plenty of room in here for two, David." I knew I had to get up. If I sat on that comfortable couch much longer, I would sleep there. I creaked and groaned my way to the bath, my middle-aged knees aren't built for that much fucking any more. She was in the tub, warm water up to her chin, her hair pulled back into a bun. Her long neck was so inviting. I lowered myself into the center of the spa and put on hand on each side of her shoulders, leaning in close for a kiss. I kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, her lips and finally settled on her neck. I let my tongue dart in and out as I licked and nibbled her neck from her shoulders to her ear lobes. I love necks. She occasionally rubbed her nails on my thighs, scratching them lightly and raising the level of my excitement. As much as I loved nibbling her neck, my back was beginning to stiffen and get sore. I stood up straight, thinking I would sit down and pull her onto my lap so I could continue to lick her neck from a more comfortable position. Becky had other plans. When my cock cleared the water, she grabbed it by the base and pointed it straight at her own face. She pulled me toward her by the groin and she leaned forward and began to tongue my glans, occasionally darting her tongue into the tip, scooping out the precum that was gathering there. She put the whole cock back into her mouth and began to fuck my joint with her face. I didn't want to get fully aroused again, but my little head overruled my big head. Sore and raw didn't matter to it, erect and proud was the state it wanted to be in. My cock got its way. For fifteen or twenty minutes I was the recipient of my deepest fantasy blow-job. Finally Becky had to give up or suffer lockjaw. "I'm sorry, Sis. I can't possibly climax again. Three is two more than normal for me." I pulled away and got out of the tub. I was pruny from the balls down. I grabbed a gigantic towel and began to dry off. Becky got out as well. I grabbed another towel and wrapped her in it, taking the opportunity to give her a long hug, her face against my chest. She was sobbing. "Why did he do it, David? Why?" I knew she was talking about her soon-to-be-ex-husband Matt. He had left her a couple of weeks ago for his secretary. That bastard had better not run into me at the wrong time. "Because he's an asshole. He didn't know how well he had it. But he will, trust me." "Don't hurt him. He's still the father of my girls. Scum he may be, but they still need him." She kept her face buried in my chest. I rubbed her back and neck, waiting before making a reply. "I promise not to hurt him if you promise to NEVER and I mean NEVER take him back." I don't know why I said that. Probably because I knew my sister was gullible and trusting enough to listen to his cock and bull stories and weasel his way back under her roof, maybe back into her bed. The thought of Matt making love to my sister was infuriating. I realized that I was jealous and that I was having dangerous thoughts. "You can't mean that," she replied, lift her head to look me in the eye. "I can and I do. I know he's going to want to have contact with the girls and I can't stop that if they want to see him, but I don't want him near you any more and if Melissa and Andrea say that they don't want to have anything to do with him either, then I don't want him around period." Becky thought for a moment and then lowered her head back onto my chest. "OK. I don't know if it's going to be the best decision, but OK, I won't let him near me again. Can we go to bed now? I'm exhausted." We walked together to the bedroom, my arm around her shoulders, hers around my waist. We climbed into the gigantic super king-sized bed naked. I sleep on my left side always. She nuzzled up to my back, her breasts pressed against my ribcage, her right hand resting on my right side, near where my six-shooter would be, if I were a cowboy instead of a sports agent. In minutes we were both fast asleep. It was a little past dawn when I started having this wonderful dream. In it I had spent most of the night making love to a beautiful young bride, who alternated between looking like my sister and my wife. The dream was so real that I could even feel my wife's hand rubbing my cock, trying to bring it back to life for another round of lovemaking. I rolled onto my back and the hand started to slowly stroke my cock. My manhood at least had the good sense to get up before I did to get the day started right. I dreamed I could feel her mouth wrap around its head. Her tongue teasing the triangle of the glans, making my cock dance. Just as I was ready to explode I awoke, only to find that the dream had it's basis in reality and my sister Becky was leaned over my stomach, mouth on my cock, head bobbing up and down as her free hand rubbed her saliva in twisting strokes on my shaft. Dream or not, I had a wake-me-up orgasm, which ended up in her stomach and not on the sheets. "What a way to start the day!" I said as I pulled her up to kiss her. I could taste my own issue on her lips. "Thanks. I needed that." We continued to kiss. She climbed up onto me, laying fully on me, her legs over mine, her pussy over my cock, her firm breasts pressed against my chest, nipple erect and attentive. I let my hands roam her back, her legs, her ass as my tongue roamed around in her mouth, playing with her tongue. She sat up, her damp pussy pressed against my shaft, which was now pointing at my toes painfully. She leaned forward until she could work the head of my cock into her now-slick coozy. She began to slide up and down on my pole, working it in deeper for a few strokes and shallow for a few. She threw her head back and began to hop u and down on it, a jockey riding for the wire at Churchill Downs. She found that she could control her own orgasm if she varied the tempo and the depth. She rode the wave, not quite at the crest, but in the gloaming of the foam. When she could take it no longer she grabbed my nipples and twisted. Hard. I was so shocked by the abuse that this represented, I responded in kind, only not quite so forcefully. This was enough to send her over the edge and she pumped my cock furiously for just a few seconds before finally reaching her ultimate orgasm and collapsing on my chest. There was a knock at the door. "I ordered room service," she said. "I hope you don't mind." "Not at all. What did we get, I'm famished." "Star bucks, omelets, French toast, sausage links, and hash browns O'Brien." She pulled on a robe that came with the suite and answered the door, showing the attendant into the adjacent sitting room where he set the breakfast table. As she signed the check, he checked her out. He glanced up and saw me watching him and me the "You Lucky Bastard" Look before taking the check from her and pushing his cart back into the hallway. We sat naked at the table, feeding ravenously. When we are appetites were sated, we lounged about for a few minutes until my cell phone rang. "Hello Janet." I would normally have ignored the call, but when Janet calls I answer. We both know that she won't call unless it's important. "What's up." "Turn on ESPN. Larry Morganthal is dead." "Larry is dead? Where? How? When?" Larry was my former mentor, whose job I had assumed when he retired. When he left Talent Associates, he kept his hand in the business, taking a few lucrative clients at a time. "Last night in Las Vegas. He was at the Ricketts/Klitschko bout and had a massive coronary. Died at ringside. What were you doing last night that you didn't watch ESPN?" "What makes you think I didn't?" "I had to call and tell you the news this morning." I ignored her grasp of the truth and quickly switched the subject. "Where is Lana?" Lana was Larry's fourth wife. 30-something years old and enhanced in every injectable and surgical way. A knockout for any age. Looks aside, Lana is an extremely shrewd business woman, graceful, elegant, and ruthless. A deadly combination that made her a prize for any firm that landed her. "She's in Vegas. She was with him when he died." "Call the airport and my car. Have the driver ready for us in thirty minutes. Have the pilot log a flight-plan to Vegas after a stop in southern Oregon." "That airport is still socked in. Want to fly direct?" I covered the phone with my hand and spoke to my sister. "Would you like to go to lunch with me at Emeril's Restaurant at the MGM Grand in Vegas?" She seemed puzzled by the request. Before she could answer I lifted my hand from the telephone receiver. "Las Vegas it is. Thirty minutes." "They will be waiting," Janet promised before disconnecting. I closed my phone and turned to Becky. "Get a shower and get dressed, we are headed to Las Vegas. A dear friend died last night at the championship fight. I need to get down there and do some damage control." An agent dying suddenly usually tips off a feeding frenzy. I wanted to be one of the first in the water, but I knew I was already hours late. Becky did as I asked, and even though I was preoccupied, I paused to admire how attractive she is. I went to the closet with all of the clothes sent over for her and pulled out a nice gray designer suit with cream colored sheer blouse. I picked a white bustierre as a foundation piece. She would look stunning in that. Stunning and sexy. I went into the bathroom and Becky was still in the shower, which was large enough for a football team. There were jets of water from all direction and overhead was a gigantic shower that felt like a warm rainfall when you stood under it. I got into the shower with her and offered to soap her back. "Do we have time?" I shook my head. "Not really." "Then let's wait until later. After lunch maybe, if you aren't too busy." "I can't promise you anything," I cautioned. "I don't know if I will have time. There might be a great deal of damage control to do." Larry had a lot of good qualities, but he had his faults too. If those faults ever made the press, I shuddered to think about it. "I DARE you to try and stand me up," she warned. "If you do, you will regret it the rest of your very short life." We finished our showers and got dressed. I told Becky to grab some extra clothes from the closet and put them into one of my suit carriers. I selected a dark gray pinstripe with three-button jacket, a white silk shirt and a pink silk tie with baby blue stripes, which matched the pin striping in my suit, if you looked close enough. I pushed the gold button on the wall and within a few seconds the butler appeared. "Wade, I am afraid that we must check out immediately. Will you see to it that all of the suits are properly packed and the clothes that remain in the other closet are shipped to this address? I wrote Becky's address on the back of one of my cards and slipped it to him. He nodded, almost a shallow bow. "It shall be done, Mr. Paul. I hope you enjoyed your stay and return as often as you can." "Whenever I'm in Seattle, I'll always stay here. Thank you Wade." By the time we reached the lobby the concierge was waiting with a bill for my signature. I signed quickly and thank him for his hospitality. I made a mental note to send season opening luxury suite Seattle Seahawks tickets to both Wade and the concierge. Just my way of telling them I appreciate their services. We were airborne in twenty-five minutes and clipping along at just under the speed of sound. All of southern Oregon was a blanket of thick fog. We held hands and watched it glide by beneath us, an unbroken blanket of soft white clouds below. It didn't abate until we crossed the Cascades somewhere south of Mt. Shasta. Occasionally I would look over and appreciate my sister Becky's stunning good looks, now nicely complimented by the suit she was wearing. We descended into McCarron field between two Airbus's. We taxied over to our company hangar on the private jet side of the field, right off of Las Vegas Boulevard. My company keeps a hangar and several cars and drivers available for our many clients that like to spend part of their enormous fortunes on games of chance and the other distractions available 24/7/365 in Las Vegas. We deplaned and entered a waiting stretch Lincoln Limousine. It whisked us out the private security gate and onto the Strip. I didn't tell the driver where we were headed, but he knew. Within minutes we were at the VIP entrance to the MGM Grand, the largest hotel in the universe. I spoke with our hostess, a woman I have known for several years. "Please contact Mrs. Larry Morganthal. Have her contact me if she is up to it." "No need Mr. Paul. Mrs. Morganthal insists that you and your wife stay in her suite. Please step this way." We were ushered to a hidden but extremely well appointed elevator hidden from the public view. It was an express to the 30th floor. We walked a short way to a green and ivory door and it opened as we approached. "David and ........" Lana looked at my sister and then at me. Unsure of who she was seeing, but perfectly certain that it wasn't my wife Carrie. "Lana, this is my sister, Becky. Becky this is Lana Morganthal." They held hands and kissed one another on the cheeks. "I'm so sorry to hear about your husband, I can only imagine what you must be going through." "Don't worry about me, Becky. Larry has been dying for several years. He finally died for good last night." She turned to me. "All of the usual suspects are already here." I nodded. It was as I suspected. I wanted to ask Lana about a delicate matter and was trying to work out how I would phrase it. I needn't have worked my head so hard. Lana spoke for me. "Now that Larry is gone, I'd like to join Talent Associates. I have my own book, I just need a couple of assistants and the use of some of the cool tools." She eyed my sister appreciatively. "And I might need something special to seal the deal." She had a lustful gleam in her eye. Unwittingly she added, "I dare you to turn me down." Becky and I both laughed.. If Lana wanted to play the game, we were considering letting her. Becky and I were prepared to see just how far Lana cared to go. The Sister Dares: The Vegas Memorial "You DARE me to turn you down?" I asked, laughing. "What makes you think you've got what it takes to be a Talent Associates Rep?" "Only 200 million in annual contract revenues for a list of 35 of the most attractive clients in athletics and entertainment," she replied calmly, her red nails tracing the line where her breasts threatened to overflow her blouse. I stood there and pondered her list of assets. Lana Morganthal was a bombshell in every surgically and chemically enhanced way possible. Curves compounded into curves. She was very attractive. She had become a widow the night before when her husband Larry had died suddenly while ringside at a championship boxing bout in Las Vegas. Gorgeous, smart, talented, young and a widow. In another life, she would make some Greek shipping magnate the perfect mid-life crisis mate. Instead she was contemplating working for me. Her recently deceased husband was my former mentor at Talent Associates. When he had left, I was his hand-picked successor. Even though Larry's death was sudden, it was also expected. Overdue in fact. He was considerably older than his fourth wife, and he had been in and out of hospitals and clinics for almost two decades. Their marriage was more an alliance of business partners. Lana was more than attractive, her most compelling asset was her shrewd mind and keen business sense. She used all of the weapons she had at her disposal to attract and retain clients, including her ample sexuality. Once she got her foot or her tits in the door, her clients found that they had zealous representation from Larry and Lana. They didn't have many clients, but they did have quality clients. "I guess I can take you on as an intern....." I eyed her for a reaction. "I might be interested," she responded coyly. "If I get to work late hours with you in a mentor-pupil relationship where you take a little extra time to teach me the ropes. Personally." She moved across the marble floor of foyer and rested her palm on my arm, slowly walking those long red nails up my sleeve, game to continue the charade. I broke first. "Seriously, Talent Associates would be honored to have you come aboard. We will be glad to create a division just for you to head. How about Vice-president of Cross Market Operations with an instant partnership? You can stay in Las Vegas if you'd like, or move to LA, New York, Miami, Bern, or Melbourne. You keep your current book, we will bill you for the appropriate support, and the new business you generate will be prorated at the partnership rate. We'll help you staff up, certainly." "That's too generous, David," she protested weakly, clearly pleased. "We want you and we will do anything to get you," I said as straightforward and honestly as possible. "Anything?" she asked again, clearly playing the coquette again. "Anything at all," I replied, not inflecting any innuendo. "I will think about your offer until after the funeral. Then we can talk more." She brought us back to the real reason I was in Las Vegas. Larry Morganthal was dead. "There is one thing that you can do to show you are earnest." "Name it." "Convince your sister to be my assistant." Until now I had overlooked Becky's presence in Lana's suite high above the Las Vegas Strip. She had come with me to Las Vegas only because I couldn't manage to fly her home first. She looked business sexy in her custom gray suit with sheer cream blouse and white bustierre. Even in the presence of Lana, Becky could make a few men turn their heads and take note. She didn't need chemicals and plastics to look gorgeous. "Becky isn't in the business Lana. She and I were having dinner in Seattle last night when I got the news." "If I am not mistaken, David, Becky is looking for a reason to change her locale. I am going to guess that she is either recently divorced or in the process of getting divorced. Am I right?" she asked Becky. Becky slowly nodded. "Then this is the perfect time to start a new project. We can support each other, since we each lost someone close to us. What do you say, Becky? Want to give it a go?" Becky gave it a long thought and then declined. "I am honored, Mrs. Morganthal, I really am. But I don't know the first thing about David's business. My girls are in college or just starting and this might not be the best time for me to be starting something new." "This is the perfect time. You are really and empty nester now. Experience is over rated. When I started working for Larry, I didn't know a contract from a contact. Now look at me. I'll make you a deal, you work with me for say.....thirty days. If you don't like it, we part as friends. If you do, I'll pay you what the top assistant at TA makes and put a down payment on your new house here in Las Vegas. It's the cheapest airport in the country to fly in an out of, and I imagine we will have unlimited use of a corporate jet anyway. Seeing your daughters will be easy." Becky looked at me and I gave her the 'It's your choice' look in return. "OK, then. I accept." "Good, that's settled. I do have a few things I'd like to discuss with you right away. I am sure David will excuse us while we talk girl talk, won't you David?" She didn't wait for my answer. I was becoming superfluous to her world for the moment. She took Becky by the hand and led her deeper into the suite, leaving me to fend for myself. I took the opportunity to call the office and relay the good news. I also put some operations into motion. The next four days were busy for me and my staff. We took the charge arranging for the sports and entertainment worlds to collide for this monumental occasion of remembrance. You will notice I didn't say somber, Larry wasn't like that. Becky and Lana were nearly inseperable. On the first day Becky's girls and my wife and two youngest daughters joined us. We buried Larry that day, according to Jewish custom. His burial ceremony was private and traditional, with a rabbi calling the shots. Then we went to work putting together his public funeral. On the second day a handful of my best assistants and my top assistant, Janet, arrived. The business took up residence in a suite down the hall and my and Becky's family took a suite adjacent to Lana's. The MGM installed multiple phone lines, fax and computer services, and staffed us with a team of secretaries and a concierge. The concierge was particularly helpful at arranging air travel, ground transportation, lodging, dining and floral requirements. This would be more a event than a funeral. On the third day everyone in show business and everyone in professional sports descended on Las Vegas for the biggest event of the decade. All the major networks, including the news and sports channels would be represented. The Wall Street Journal, Vogue, Sports Illustrated, the London Times, and the BBC were also on site. Every hotel in town was booked to capacity. The really high rollers, the megastars and mega athletes stayed in private residences, either their own or owned by friends of friends. The commissioners of football and baseball spoke at the memorial, as well as several clients, the player's union chiefs, and Larry's rabbi. We had to turn down requests made by politicians and talking heads to speak. The dais was already overflowing. Nobody wanted to miss this platinum opportunity to be the center of the known universe. The memorial took seven hours with three intermissions. Bob Costas, Al Michaels, and Chris Berman hosted. No one left early. The entire event was held at the MGM Grand Pavilion, the same place Larry had passed away. It no longer looked like a boxing venue, it looked like a cathedral, complete with a choir balcony, twin pulpits, and seating for several thousand on plush chairs. A lot of this was just show for the guests. During the process I noticed a few surreptitious glances between Becky and Lana, almost like a conspiracy was underfoot. I also received a few looks of passion from Becky and once I imagined a look of lust in Lana's eyes. Wishful thinking, I thought to myself. We spent a good deal of time together, Becky's family and mine. All of our evenings were spent together, enjoying the fantastic dining and superb entertainment that Las Vegas had to offer. My wife Karen and my sister Becky were friends before Karen and I met. They were still friends as well as sisters. It only felt a little strange that I had just spent an evening of passion with my sister, but I loved them both so much it was only a little strange. Karen and I were having great sex in Vegas. The change in venue was beneficial to our mutual attraction and sex drive. We had sex in the shower, standing. We had sex in the bed. We had sex overlooking the Strip. It was like our first years all over again. Twice Becky and I had hot quick liaisons as well. The first liaison that my sister and I shared was on the third day. Karen had taken all of the girls, both Becky's and ours, shopping and sightseeing. Becky and I were down the hall in the company suite working. When I needed some paperwork from one of the files in our personal suite, Becky offered to get them for me. She left to retrieve them. A few minutes later she called me and asked me to come help her find them. I went down the hall to our gigantic penthouse suite atop the hotel. When I entered the rooms and rounded the corner, there stood my sister in a white lace baby doll nightie. "What do you think?" She twirled to give me a good look. "I think you look fantastic. But it's not appropriate business attire," I responded while grabbing her waist and pulling her close for a kiss. "Then we'd better hurry so I can change back," she answered, nearly breathless from our kiss. She dropped to her knees at my feet. She reached up and grabbed my zipper, pulling it down in one smooth motion. My cock, though tired from the wake-up sex that Karen and I had before breakfast, was being cooperative. When Becky's long thin fingers wrapped around my shaft, the coolness of her skin was a blessed relief and stimulant at the same time. She stroked it slowly, letting the head of my cock strike her lips and cheeks. She stuck out just the tip of her tongue and without moving her head, she licked me all over the bottom of my cock head, rubbing it to and fro. All the while she stared into my eyes. Her gaze was one of contented love and perfect trust. It was a love I felt comfortable returning in kind. Her trust in me would never be broken. Without warning she opened her mouth wide and swallowed half the length of my member into her mouth. Trust was replaced by lust in her eyes. She forced her face down toward my crotch, opening her throat far enough to take me entire cock in. I felt my hips thrusting forward, involuntarily. I was fucking her throat and she was fucking her face with my cock. I grabbed her dark curls with both hands and held her face against the skin on my stomach, trying to make her stop so I didn't come too quickly. She milked my cock with her throat and it was nearly too much. I pulled my dick from her mouth and stepped back. She looked at me like a tigress plays with a lamb. "Enough!" I said sternly. "If you are going to be bad, you are going to be punished." I took control of the situation and scooped her up off the floor and perched her on the back of a long leather sofa. Now it was my turn to kneel at the alter of her sex and take communion from her holy river. I knelt and drove my face into her crotch, rubbing my nose against her clit, breathing deeply from her damp musk and trying to sink my teeth into her labial lips through the satin of her panties. She gripped the sides of my head, opened her thighs and pushed her heels into my back, driving my face deeper. She tried to stuff my head into her pussy. I grabbed both sides of her panties and pulled them away from her hips until they tore asunder. I grabbed the now useless loin cloth and pulled it away with my teeth. That left her sex exposed and swollen for my pleasure. And hers. I drove my tongue deep into her slit and was rewarded with a gush of fluid escaping from deep inside. I let my tongue circle her clit, only occasionally allowing it to have contact. I sucked each side of her pussy into my mouth and pulled my head back until it was slowly pulled out. Back into her channel I drove my tongue and Becky responded by giving me a face full of her juices. I allowed my hands to roam her chest, rubbing her breasts and lightly pinching her nipples. I lifted her nightie and she took that as a cue to remove it completely. She tilted her head forward and her long brown curls tickled her breasts and my face at the same time. I kept driving my tongue into her pussy. She pulled my head tighter into her crotch, moaning and writhing. She pitched her head forward as she came, tossing her hair from side to side, writhing in exquisite agony. Before her climax had fully subsided I stood up and pressed my cock head into the place my tongue had excited. With a smooth firm stroke I entered her until I could feel my balls being supported by the curvature of her upturned ass. Her swollen pussy lips throbbed down the length of my shaft. I pulled her legs up until her ankles rested on my shoulders. I could feel her pussy gripping and contracting. It only took a few rough strokes and I was back on the precipice, ready to climax. I trapped her thighs with my arms and pulled hard, pushing my cock even deeper as I unloaded into my semen into my sister. Over and over my cock pumped trying to expel semen my balls hadn't even manufactured yet. When my cock twitched her cunt responded. It was milking me for every drop. Our sex fluids were running out of the bottom of her slit and down her ass crack and onto the leather couch. I finally allowed her to lower her legs down off my shoulders, but I refused to take my semi-hard cock out of her sex. It was hot and warm and slick. I worked my partially hard member in and out for a few strokes until my cock responded, albeit in protest. I knew that coming again was against the rules for a middle aged man such as myself, but I thought I would give it a shot anyway. In a few strokes I realized the folly of my action. My knees and back were protesting and I pulled out, gently. "I didn't think so," snickered Becky, gingerly regaining her feet. "If you could come again after such a fucking, I would have been amazed." I laughed too. Even Viagra wasn't going to help in this situation. A sandwich and a nap might, but that was about it. I slowly got myself redressed and walked to the nearest bathroom. I wiped the combined come from my dick and put it away. My sister pushed in behind me and sat ingloriously on the commode, letting out a rush of urine and cum. Even in this post coital disarray, she was beautiful. While she sat there I leaned over and kissed her deeply, letting my hand caress her neck. When our lips parted she broke wind and giggled. "Sorry. I had to do it. At least I didn't fart while you were kissing me." She was laughing as she took paper from the roll and folded it neatly until she had enough to do the dabbing of her damp cunny. I left the bathroom and I could hear her flush and wash her hands. She went back to her part of our shared suite. When she returned to the large living room, she had almost finished getting dressed. When she sat down my gaze naturally looked at her beautiful legs, following them up to her pantiless crotch. Thinking about her going bare down there made my cock stir. I had an idea. "If you are going commando, I think you should do a little gardening." The mischievous gleam in my eye must have touched her adventurous nature. "You do it then," she said immediately. I took her hand and led her back into the hallway that led to her bedrooms and where her personal bathroom was. I lifted her skirt and propped her butt up onto the counter. "Hey!" she protested. "That's COLD!" I allowed her to stand up and I placed a soft towel on the marble counter for her sit on. I left her only for a moment to go into my room and get my hair trimmer. I crouched down between her legs and began clearing away her curly brown pussy hair. I worked from the outside in until the whole matted mess fell away like a bird's nest. I grabbed the ball of hair and held it up to her face. "Maybe I should keep this as a souvenir, like the Indians keep scalps." "Careful there, big brother," she cautioned. "You never know that I might want to keep as a souvenir of yours in return." I smiled and reached for a new razor and the shaving gel. I rubbed the stubble between her thighs with the gel and got a moan in return. I carefully shaved every nook and cranny. I made her hold her legs high and wide while I shaved around her winking anal flower. When I finished I took a washcloth and gave her a complete spongebath, making sure that no hairs had escaped my razor. I gently blew on her moistened slit and she giggled in return. "Stop David. That tickles." She kicked her legs over my head and hopped off the counter, smoothing her skirt in the process. She turned around and touched up the little makeup she wore and passed a long-toothed hair pick through a couple of imagined trouble spots in her curly brown hair. "I guess I should get back. Lana is probably looking for me." We both knew this was a lie, but if we didn't separate soon, we would be in danger of my wife and our respective kids barging in and finding us in this compromised position. It's tough to deny you are having an incestual affair with your sister if you are caught red handed. The second time we had a sexual congress was after the memorial service. Long after. I had spent the evening chatting with current and future clients. Several were Lana and Larry's clients and I made myself useful by welcoming them to the Talent Associates family. I also spent time getting business done with several team owners and general managers. Finally I had to work the advertisers that had an interest in one client or another to endorse their product. By the time I could make my excuses and head back to our private family penthouse, I was exhausted and it was three a.m. Karen had long since went to bed and I made myself a gin and cranberry juice, eager to begin the healing process I knew was coming. The night's indulgences were going to be hard on me in the morning. I found the remote and turned on the giant screen TV, knowing that Sports Center was about to repeat it's earlier broadcast which featured a good deal of coverage from the memorial service. I was about to sit down on the same leather couch my sister and I had defiled earlier when I realized it was already occupied. There was my sister, sound asleep. Her lower body was lightly covered by a hotel robe. Her stomach and chest were uncovered and inviting. Her firm breasts threatened to escape over the top of her satin nightgown. Even exhausted I could feel the stirring from deep in my loins. My balls tightened in anticipation and I found myself breathing a little shallow. My wife was sleeping less than a hundred feet away and still I was compelled to linger over my sister's inviting supine form. I took a sip of my cocktail and contemplated my options. The entire Las Vegas strip was twinkling outside my windows. My ears were ringing from the noise of the evening. My feet hurt. My head was beginning to hurt. I took another sip. My cock didn't care about sore feet or sore temples or ringing ears. At 3:00 a.m., my cock decided it was time to play. I pushed the low table in front of the couch away and knelt by Becky. I leaned forward and began to kiss her breasts, lightly brushing her hair out of the way. She responded by rolling away from me on the couch until only her back was visible. Snubbed. I took another pull from my gin and cranberry and perused my options. I decided to pursue the matter anyway. I slowly pulled the robe covering her legs and hips away. Her night gown only reached to the bottom of her panties. Barely. I could see the lines of her newly shaved pussy pressing against her panties. I rubbed the crevice in the center with my middle finger. Becky swayed her hips in response, the beginnings of her arousal. The Sister Dares: The Vegas Memorial I carefully slipped my fingers into the elastic waistband and slowly slid them off her hips and down her legs. This left her creamy skin open to my gaze. I resumed my rubbing of her labia with my fingers and lightly traced circles on her ass with my tongue. Becky stirred. I stopped, expecting to be chastised and sent off to bed. She relaxed and I resumed my minstrations intended to create an arousal that wouldn't be denied. Her pussy responded by releasing a coating of slick juices. I worked my finger into her cunt. I could feel her adjust her hips to allow me deeper access. By now my head had stopped hurting but my cock was throbbing. I guided my endowment to her bare pussy and pressed forward until I could feel the head engage in the opening to her sex. I waited for a protest. There was none. I pressed forward, only pausing to pull back a few inches to allow her vagina to accomodate my intrusion. She was surprisingly easy to enter in this position. I moved one leg up onto the couch and kept one on the floor. I had great leverage and comfortable footing. I began to slowly creep in and out of her with my engorged member. After a few minutes of slow teasing I could feel her actually stiffen slightly as I thrust forward, marginally trying to push back and aid in penetration. I increased the tempo of my strokes until I knew she was awake and playing the sleeper. I moved faster and faster until beads of sweat covered my face. Still I pistoned on. I could feel my orgasm building, but I refused to let it go until Becky begged for it. I was pounding in and out of her now, the slapping of our flesh threatening to wake the other sleepers in the suite. I didn't care. I was past the point of caring. Now I wanted the satisfaction of making my sister beg for release. I could hear her moaning into the cushions now, face buried into the back of the couch. She gave up the sleep charade by reaching back with one hand and digging her nails into my ass. I took that as a sign of victory and released my load over the next fifteen or twenty strokes. I finally collapsed. Fully exhausted. Fully spent. Fully satisfied. I reached for my cocktail. "You are playing a dangerous game, David." Becky rolled over to face me. "I don't want to hurt Karen. Or the girls. We should really give this up." I knew she was right. I also knew that if she stayed with Lana in Las Vegas, I would find dozens of excuses to fly to Vegas to be with her. I wasn't done with her. Not by a long shot. "Is that what you really want?" I sat down on the floor, leaning against the couch near her head. "No, not really." "Then if we are careful, there's no reason I can see to stop." "It's incest David." "I've been thinking about that. It's me loving you and you loving me. It's intimacy and it's passion. It brings me great joy. If that's a sin, then I guess I'll have to deal with God about it when the time comes. If it keeps me out of Heaven, at least I won't be among strangers." We both laughed quietly and stared out at the Vegas night. The night is for lovers. The morning, I would soon find out, is for disasters. The Sister Dares I slipped my fingers into her panties and pulled the down from her hips, she obliged me by lifting her ass and allowing her panties to be removed easily. Now that she was completely naked except for her jewelry, she spoke. "Truth or dare?" she asked. "Dare, of course," I replied. "I dare you to stand in naked front of me and put your hands on your hips and not move a muscle until I tell you to." I took off my tailored suit and shirt, my undergarments, shoes and socks and stood before her, tan but otherwise unimpressive except for my cock. It was doing it's best impression of a redwood. I put my hands on my hips and stood in front of her. She responded by running her nails up and down my bare legs, tickling and scratching me in delicious torture. She rose up and kissed my nipples, licking and biting them. She bit and sucked at my neck. Her fingernails lightly grazed my cock, causing it to twitch and jump. This was farther than our game had ever gone before. "Put your arms around me," she commanded. I pulled her in tight, kissing her, feeling her, my hands pressing her closer into me as I let them roam over each globe of her tight ass. I felt her pussy pressed against my leg and my cock jerked responsively. "Now is the time to call it quits, sis. Before anything happens that we can't blame on the wine and the gin." "It's your turn. I'll go ahead and answer. Dare." "Then I dare you to put my cock in you mouth and then make love to me all night long." She dropped to her knees and swallowed my entire nine inches in one single swift move. My hands went immediately to the sides of her head, pushing her hair back. I had to keep her head more still than she was attempting, just to keep from losing my load too soon. "I am going to cum, Becky." "Come in my mouth," she replied. "I dare you." She pistoned her head up and down on my shaft, tongue swirling and hand cupping my balls. It only took a few seconds for me to fire. When the first gob of cum hit her throat she responded by thrusting it even deeper down. I couldn't help but cum and cum and cum, her lips milking me for every possible drop. I finally pushed her head back and reclaimed my cock as my own. I picked her up and kissed her fully on the mouth, our tongues sharing the last vestiges of my orgasm. I pushed her down on the couch and spread her legs. "I dare you to try and not cum when I eat you." I dove into her pussy like it was the last meal on Earth. Her clit was swollen and stuck out so far it looked like a tiny penis. I avoided contact with this, assuming that it would be too swollen. I concentrated on her labia instead, licking and sucking until they were engorged and hard as little rocks themselves. My nose would occasionally brush her clit, causing her to shudder. After ten or fifteen minutes of this tongue lashing she began to cum. Her legs locked around my head and she attempted to push my entire head into her pussy. As her orgasm reached it's most intense, I curled the tip of my tongue into a U shape and placed this around her clit, allowing it to fuck my tongue. She came and came and came, her juices nearly gushing out of her and onto the leather couch. "I dare you to fuck me. Fuck me hard!" It was a challenge I was prepared for. I slipped my full length into her well-lubed honey hole. She climaxed again. As I stroked in and out, I could feel her G-spot engorged against the top of my cock. I rolled her on her side so that I could fuck her sideways and really concentrate on hitting the G-spot with my cock. She started a wave of climaxes, one crescendo building on the other until she finally stopped, spent and exhausted. "I dare you to let me fuck you in your ass." She responded by rolling over on her stomach, one leg on the couch, one knee on the floor. "Go easy. Matt tried this once and I didn't like it. But a dare is a dare." I positioned my engorged manhood at the brown pucker of her ass. This was going to need some help. I traded my tongue for my cock and immediately began licking at her asshole, determined to both lubricate it and loosen it up for the onslaught that ensued. When I replaced my tongue with my cock again, Becky was much more receptive. This time I slipped the head in past her sphincter without resistance. When the thicker meat of my cock tried to enter behind, that's when the pain started for her. "Slow down." I did. "Nice and easy now," she instructed. "That's it." I pressed forward half an inch at a time until I had two more inches past my cockhead in her butt. Then I pulled back and pressed forward again. Each stroke got me a little deeper until my balls were wedged between her ass cheeks as well. Long strokes and Becky began to moan. Hard strokes and she moaned harder. Fast strokes and she moaned faster. Hard, long, fast strokes and she began to buck wildly We came together, with both of us collapsing onto the sofa, her face down, me face down on her back, my still hard cock buried into her now sore ass. "Oh my God," she finally spoke. "It's my turn. Truth or dare?" To be continued......................