11 comments/ 61794 views/ 56 favorites Confessions of an Unholy Mind By: franklarkin THIS IS A TRUE STORY 1. I've never been what you would call a 'praying man'. Not once in my twenty five years have I felt the allure of the church that my mother frequents, so pointlessly comforting herself with the thought that there is a savior for her, listening to her ridiculous confessions. Not once have I dropped before Christ and begged for his mercy. Not once have I fallen to my knees. 'Can we switch now?' muffles Trinity, as she removes my throbbing cock from her lips. I glance at her, a string of congealed pre-seminal fluid and saliva running from her pink bottom lip to the head of my aching member. Her soft palm rests on my swollen balls, fingers delicately placed at the bottom of my shaft as she hopefully pleads with her eyebrows. I marvel momentarily at how beautiful she is, how naturally and effortlessly gorgeous. Even today, her thirty-first birthday. 'No,' I whisper as her expression sours, complaining about her jaw aching; it had been an hour after all. I ignore it, instead focusing on the movie playing a few feet away. The pixelation is grainy. 'Just a little longer.' Trinity surrenders to my will, her mouth enveloping my cock with some reluctance. Her gaping lips allow the entire shaft to disappear inside, her chin glistening with spit. But the strokes, the way she presses her tongue from the base of my cock, slurping up the shaft in spirals and focusing on the throbbing flesh directly beneath the hole from which she is cleaning my precum with tender flicks: I wonder, does she truly enjoy this? *** I had been six years old when my father had died in our hometown of Dijon, France. The memories of his death, the funeral, and the aftermath, are all sketchy. In fact, the detailed imprints of him on my mind are just as vague. As an American in the Army, my father was stationed in England. Following the end of his service, he decided to travel through Europe and fly out of whichever country bored him. He didn't get very far. My mother had been working as a waitress in a small restaurant in Eastern France. 'He said he actually thought I was Bridgette Bardot, and wouldn't take no for an answer.' The details are literally as brief as that; my mother has never gone into more, except that my father came from a small American town with no ties except his parents that were preoccupied with their own small-town lives. So he never made it back home, and lived out his limited days in Dijon. Romance, I presume, was much more fleeting back then. It was France, after all. The ridiculous attitude of the French toward women and love, which is no doubt some sort of sick and creamy self-fulfilling prophecy, is just as idiotic as the American attitude of self-importance and drama; masters of the world; the American Dream. And it seems that a combination of the two pathetic attitudes can create more than just a tasteless vomit-and-asshole flavored pie. It resulted in my beautiful, intelligent older sisters, Trinity, six years older and Isis, nine years older. And a slightly unhinged boy: me. As the eldest, Isis picked up and held together the many fragments of the three lives that had shattered on my father's death. It had been Isis that dropped out of high school to work to pay the rent and bills whilst my mother wallowed in self-pity; it had been Isis that protected me from bullies as I showed the first signs of blurring the lines of normality; it had been Isis that wrenched the belt free from my mother's hand when she beat me with it frequently; it had been Isis that made no time for a boyfriend or social occasions in order to ensure that her family were healthy. And it had been Isis that contacted our grandparents in America, surrendering reluctantly to the fact that supporting a family was too exhausting and too maturing for a teenager. One the morning we left for America, everything had been rushed. People can never just be prepared. The walls had been completely bare, every minute memory of a lifetime swept clean from the very foundations of the building. That memory is so distinct, because I vividly remember my eldest sister rushing about the tiny apartment in her bra. It was the first time I had seen one - and in fact the true form of a woman - and even though I was one of the people she was querying readiness with, my eyes were transfixed on the ample flesh almost spilling out of her bra as she dashed from room to room. It was black, with feeble support, and laced patterns embossed along the front, gaps in it teasing any spectators with fleshy brown nipples growing harder by the cool minute. I later found out that she wore a 38D. Trinity grew into a 38 DD. My mother was a 38E. 'Mama, Trinity?' she had called to nobody in particular. And then in French: 'The taxi is on its way.' Her beautiful blond hair, almost as long as my mother's, shimmered radiantly against the sun glaring through the window. I had watched her soft, goose-pimpled back as she stood before the mirror applying basic cosmetics such as foundation and lipstick. She was the spitting image of my mother, a young Bridgette Bardot my father might have said. I gawped at her long sexy legs shrouded in thick leggings, presumably for comfort during the flight, and wondered what was causing my fixation. I don't recall noticing a pantyline, but I probably wouldn't have known. God, I wish I could revisit that memory in person and pay her ass more attention, if only to see whether she had been wearing any panties at all. As she turned around to hurry me, she mistook my curiosity for cuteness. 'Come here, you,' she smiled as her bouncing breasts hopped toward me, continuing in sultry French vernacular. 'Give big sister a hug and wait outside, okay?' As she pulled me into her tits, I felt an electrifying sensation run through my brain. Not my body, but my brain. As the juicy, soft mounds suffocated my entire face, for a brief moment - the briefest - I pouted my lips and kissed Isis's cleavage. My lips against them felt like Kodak heaven - I never wanted to release such a caress from my mind. She strode away hollering in French to my mother and sister, but I stood touching the lips that had just pressed against Isis's big natural tits, embedding the memory into the deepest corner of my brain so that I could revisit it over and over during the long flight across the Atlantic. I was ten years old. 2. The television is loud and I stare at it, watching the same run of entertainment I had seen a million times over the years. The woman submits, and the man controls, and that is the essence of it. 'Baby Brother?' Trinity whines; I'm focusing too much energy on the television and none on her, the warmth of her labia hovering in my face. 'Oh,' I reply, genuinely startled. 'I'm sorry.' An aerial view would show Trinity's beautifully long body carefully positioned over mine, her hair covering the devouring of my cock from view. It would also show two globes of perfectly formed ass splayed above my face with only my nose and forehead visible. The bobbing of her head stops as she waits, my cock between her lips. Her lightly browned, puckered asshole sits directly an inch from my nose, the neat creases of her pink pussy glistening with her secretions. I slowly lean forward, my nose nudging her asshole, and run my tongue gently from its opening, down to her clit and then back. Feeling her shudder at my teasing as her lips return to vacuum my cock, I dive into her gushing cunt with my tongue. Her frantic sucking ends for a second as a muffled groan escapes her. 'Oh God,' she moans, her head flicking upwards. 'God, fuck me!' the woman on television demands. Trinity spills juices on and over my tongue, covering my entire chin, but the harder she sucks, the deeper my tongue goes. I bring a hand to spank her beautifully firm ass cheek whilst the other rubs one of her soft breasts. She rubs her mound up and down my face quicker than I can lap, smearing it with her juices, ensuring that my cock doesn't leave her lips. I spank her with both hands now, only causing her to gyrate harder, the nub of her rubbery clit finding the tip of my tongue as her labia run up the tip of my nose and around my mouth. 'You taste amazing,' I muffle. 'Pineapple,' she replies, her tongue licking each of my balls with careful attention. Her hands clutch each one as she runs her flat tongue back up to the head of my shaft and slurps on the head as though it were a popsicle. I move back slightly, sliding two fingers inside the meaty puffiness of her labia, losing the tips. Pushing hard, I slide them inward, my entire fingers engulfed by her pussy, curling them into the fuzzy patch within. She quivers from head to toe, and the sensation on my cock is wonderful as she shoves the entire shaft in her mouth, her throat twitching as she swallows the head and keeps it there. The throbbing against her impressive gag reflex causes me to jut my fingers more aggressively. My tongue finds her now moist asshole, and caresses each line and wrinkle. Trinity sucks faster, intermittently impaling her entire face on my cock to feel it pulsate at the back of her neck. As my fingers continue to massage her g-spot faster than she gulps my member, I spank the ass whose hole has now given a little for my tongue to enter. The tip receives a hint of pineapple from her tiny tight rectum, and I probe further to get a better taste. 'Ah!' she exclaims, resting her head on my thigh, my cock against her face as she twitches in pleasure. One of her hands reaches back and begins furiously rubbing her clit as my fingers inside her match the pace. With each of her moans comes another loving kiss on my thigh and any other area her lips can find as she swims in delight. Her free hand pins the base of my cock to allow it to inflate and throb against the outside of her lower cheek. As my tongue continues almost a quarter into her scented asshole, her hips begin to give and her face turns positions to press its forehead into my thigh. I slap her harder and her rear rises, one hand still wrapped around my cock, the other still working her clit. Her body trembles as her moans build into a crescendo. My fingers dig deeper, and she bucks against them as her screams echo against the walls, her pussy expelling a clear liquid onto my chest. Unaware of her actions, she presses her entire genitalia onto my face, restricting my oxygen whilst her body convulses. My fingers never leave her pussy and she spasms in joy as the squirting continues for several minutes. Her screams come in quick shallow gasps with each spurt of her liquid; it covers my torso and leaks onto the bed. I look up at the back of her head, glimpsing her face rapidly contorting but not removing any of her beauty, as I slowly retract my fingers, the skin flat from the clamping of her vagina walls. Trinity falls forward onto my chest, all strength leaving her, breathing heavily. The woman on television continues to moan in quick succession with each pounding of her audibly slippery cunt. 'Trin?' 'I'm okay,' she pants weakly. I roll her over and hoist myself off the side of the bed, my cock dangling above her face as she lies spent, wet with her own cum, recovering. *** I hadn't slept a wink on the plane. Isis, Trinity, and my mother had given me the window seat so that I could take in the sights of this beautiful world. In reality, all I could see were clouds. My mind had been filled for five hours with my sister's beautiful cleavage, and my indistinguishable imprint on it, which would be in my brain for eternity. I looked at my family in the seats next to me. Isis had ended up wearing a camisole and hooded sweater, her blond hair pulled together with a scrunchie at the back of her head. Trinity was half sprawled across Isis, her head burrowed into the crook between her older sister's neck and shoulder. Trinity, though sixteen, was still a teenager. My mother had forbid her wearing anything provocative. But her light olive skin needed barely any help from make up in looking flawless. In years to come I would find a variety of skimpy and sexy underwear in her drawers, delicate and expensive thongs and lace panties with the crotch missing, as well as make up only intended for one purpose. The contraband would have been enough to give my mother a heart attack. Or so I would have thought. Both of my sisters magnetized the opposite sex, but it was only the older one that found it annoying. Everyone suspected that Isis was a lesbian, a suspicion aggravated by the fact that she would go on to keep a company of only female friends. But Trinity loved the attention. Every time a man spoke to her, she would leave it until the last possible minute to tell him that she was sixteen years old. They were always so surprised, and demanded, with humor, some proof. Looking back, I wonder whether men wanted her to show her identification, or have her drop her panties to reveal how innocent and tight her pussy was. Or had they wanted their cocks in her mouth, just to see how experienced she was? Had it not been for Isis extracting her at almost every tipping point, many husbands and boyfriends would have lost their relationships because of Trinity's inappropriate flirting. And of course, two perfectly formed, natural and soft mounds of fleshy cushion hanging from her chest bigger than most grown women did not help in establishing my sister's age. They had been hanging in a transparent white vest that day, a solid white bra visible beneath it. 'Isis?' I whispered, careful not to wake Trinity, or extract my mother from her alcohol-induced state. 'Oui, mon cher?' she whispered, turning her head toward me, a warm smile spread across her face for her baby brother. 'I need to pee,' I whispered, embarrassed. She stroked my cheek with her palm before rolling Trinity onto the other side of her seat. Taking my hand she led me through the seats and down the aisle into the queue for the toilet. For two whole minutes I had been face to face with Isis's beautifully round buttocks. I did not know why I was so curious them. The curves pressed against the leggings, the flesh curving round and folding to form perfect creases at the tops of her legs. I was literally three of four centimeters from the crack, being able to see every potential imperfection - where her actual ass was concerned, there were none. I looked a little harder, oblivious to anyone that might presume that a perverted kid was about to be swallowed by his big sister's meaty behind. Running vertically from the invisible waistband, through the seam between Isis's crack and around the front to unknown territory that the leggings followed, I saw a very faint, but rather wide strip of darker, moist material. I could only presume at the time that it was the minor formation of sweat, or that she had peed in her clothes. I later learned that women tend to secrete juices of heaven when they feel even the slightest bit aroused. Perhaps it was that? I leaned in to surrender my face to her butt, to sniff it, to discover why Isis had a wet strip between her ass cheeks - 'Come on,' she said, stopping me just in time. Looking back and smiling at me, she beckoned me into the toilet. God, I loved my sister beyond words. Inside the toilet, she unbuttoned my jeans and helped me aim my prepubescent cock into the toilet as I relieved myself of about a liter of cola. As I finished up and washed my hands, the flush startled me. Looking round, water dripping from my fingers, Isis smiled as she yanked her leggings down, leaving them wrapped around her knees as she squatted above the toilet. The bare flesh, the beautiful skin of her slightly toned thighs transfixed me once again, and I could not stop staring at how perfect they were. I looked slowly from her knees, up her thighs, savoring each moment. And even though her hooded sweater veiled anything else from view, I watched as a thick stream of light yellow piss jetted into the bowl below. I don't know why I felt so happy, but I wanted to stay in this toilet watching Isis piss for eternity. If she had farted, if she had taken a shit in front of my very eyes, I truly believe that my lasting obsession with her would not have died. My fixation moved from her gushing holy water to her smiling face. 'Almost done, sweetheart,' she cooed lovingly in French. Suddenly, turbulence thrust her backward and me forward into the line of a straight stream of my Isis's piss. It sprayed onto my jeans and hands, and the pleasure I felt being so close to my sister was immeasurable. Immediately, the bud ejecting the urine closed and she apologized profusely. 'Wash your hands,' she said as she quickly replaced her leggings and flushed the toilet. I turned to the sink and let the water run, but whilst she glimpsed away I wiped her piss on my jeans. I could not bring myself to wash away something that I felt so curious and peaceful about. Upon returning to my seat, she replaced my seat-belt and took Trinity's head into her lap. I looked up at her smile, reaching to kiss her on her beautifully soft cheek. 'Je'taime, Isis.' She smiled. 'Je'taime, darling. Go to sleep.' I curled into a ball, bringing my hand to my face, sniffing it. The gorgeous smell of Isis's slightly salted acidity was wonderful. I closed my eyes and stuck my thumb into my mouth. It was still a little damp. 3. 'Glgg, glgg, glgg.' Trinity is draped across the bed, her head hanging off of it, my cock choking her throat. I thrust deep her into mouth, and I can feel her delicate palms tapping the bottoms of my thighs as she silently begs for air. I feel the contraction of her throat around the head of my shaft, feel it twist as her body mildly shakes. Then I rapidly stroke in and out before releasing her. 'Glgg-glgg-glgg-glgg - ahhhhhhh', she gasps, inhaling as much oxygen as possible whilst I let my cock hang above her face, covering her chin and nose in thick ropes of her own saliva. I straighten up a little, watching spit-cum drip into her eyes. They are rolling into her head as she catches her breath, a sense of ecstasy finally beginning to fill her again. 'My ass,' I whisper. 'Lick it.' She whimpers, still catching her breath. 'But - ' 'Please,' I look down at her, threateningly. 'I'll show them.' Surrendering, Trinity reaches up and begins to massage my balls with her tongue. She lets each small flick, each wholesome lick, linger whilst I moan quietly, one hand on the remote control raising the volume on the couple nastily fucking through a crack in the door, the other pulling on Trinity's wide brown nipple. The pimples on her areola begin to harden as I yank gently on the hardening centre. 'Annnngh, angh, mmmm,' she moans. The flat of her tongue warms my balls one by one, special attention paid to each delicate millimeter of my average sack with a low hum. She sucks the skin hanging above my perineum, allowing her teeth to graze the area. It causes my cock to pulse, and she senses this, reaching up to wrap her fingers around the base of my shaft to tug gently, consistently. 'Oh, Trin,' I moan, trying desperately to keep my tone neutral. She continues to tug at my cock, running her fingers from the base to the head and back, just enough pressure to ensure that I don't ejaculate over one of her tits as it jiggles in a loose circular motion. The soft, rubbery nipple between my thumb and forefinger pins the other one down. I had seen my sister's body many times before, especially whilst growing up. But right now, in the heat of euphoric arousal and covered in her juices, I focus on how erotic it is. The soft flesh, hard but not muscular, slim but not skinny; it makes my mouth water. A foot or so away, a thin strip of blond pubic hair, layered trimly around the triangular formation leading to my heaven, glistens as she runs a hand from the invisible slit below it, up to her bellybutton and along the base of my cock. The finger dripping with her own cum teasingly skates along the bottom of my cock, up the head, and eventually the hole. Confessions of an Unholy Mind She feels my body shudder. 'Mmmm,' she slurps at my perineum. 'I love how crazy you can be.' If only she knew. 'Lean forward, Baby Brother.' I widen my legs and look down at her moist face, shining filthily in the dim light. Her upside down grin becomes an open hole through which her long, pink tongue pokes. I squat down; my ass cheeks pulled apart, and hover above her mouth. She slobbers around the folds of my crack, working toward the hole as I did to her moments ago. I release her rigid brown nipple, and grasp her wobbling tit, digging into it with my fingers, pulling it upwards and then down, all the while her tongue moving toward my wrinkled asshole. My other hand raises the volume further on the amateur film of a man rocking back and forth in sharp motions as the woman bent over in front of him attempts to dig her nails into the drywall. 'Oh, GOD!' Screams echo through the room. 'Oh, FUCK, ME!' The man on the television, invisible, with one finger swallowed by her asshole pounds her harder. The woman continues to scream, slapping the wall in delight. 'Fuck me, fuck me, fucking fuck me!' I watch, transfixed, as her hair is yanked back, one hand still on her hip as her moist cunt is thrust into sharply, quickly - 'Ah!' Trinity squeals with a mouthful of my ass cheek. I look down at the hand clenching her tits, and small indentations have appeared where my nails began to pierce her skin. She stares up at me expectantly, one hand holding my bulging member still. I look down, anger and arousal learning to coexist within me. I slap her tit hard, and the crack echoes around the room. Before Trinity has a chance to respond to my abuse, I lower sharply onto her face, my asshole pressed open against her mouth. Without option, her tongue thrusts against it, licking the rim as I reach forward to slap her tit, one and then the other, before yanking violently on each hard, brown nipple. Her tongue begins to penetrate my asshole, the flat of it occasionally forming to provide lubrication. And as she laps at the fine pubic hairs surrounding my anal cavity, and her tongue slips minimally into my rectum, I hear more pleasure from the television. This time, inevitably, in French. 'Oui, oui, oui!' As Trinity slurps my ass with her nose buried deep within my crack, I reach forward and tap her thighs. Her legs fall open, and the sweet tangy smell of her glorious wet pussy fill the room. The aroma is irresistible. Trinity's pussy always smells amazing, always so arousing; so feminine. The veins in my cock clench at its odour; an odour that I induced. I zoom into the woman's face on the movie as it screws up in pleasure that seems beyond the realms of human emotion. The man rams his cock into her begging crevice with the same force, his balls slapping her engorged clit with each thrust. 'Oh, mama,' I lament, as Trinity begins to tug at my cock again whilst trying to penetrate my ass even further with her wet tip. Tears form in my eyes. *** The first few years in America had been rather uneventful. Small town life was just like I'd seen in the movies; sparsely populated, unincorporated, and dull. My grandparents were all American simpletons - Native Americans were Indians, Far Eastern people were Asian, South Asian people were all Indians, and anybody else that wasn't white was colored. We - despite having their son's blood running through us - were European. I guess it was true. I had grown up in Europe, my mother was from Europe, my tongue was French - I was the outsider, the European in my school of native idiots. And I was the outsider in many other respects. I wasn't tall enough to play basketball, I didn't understand or care for American Football, and actual football - soccer, as it was called and so beautifully pronounced on the hick tongue - was for women. Or pussies. The only thing I took an interest in was the mechanics of cars, but all of that was self taught, and usually practically on the broken Chevy that my grandfather hadn't used in years and left to rot. Isis had enrolled me at the local school, which had an attendance rate of about five hundred. My classes were boring, my English was slightly rusty - very rusty depending on who wanted to befriend me - and my breaks were spent wandering the corridors listening in on ridiculous conversations in high pitched voices, watching lunch money being stolen from other outsiders, or sitting in the class waiting for the lesson to begin. Usually, only the teacher occupied the room, and depending on whom it was, my activities ranged from studying every inch of her body, or mentally planning how to fulfill my required pleasure needs that evening. In fact, my only real moments of pleasure had been at night. Isis had taken a job at the local Pizza Den, working long hours, but coming home just in time to say goodnight to her little brother. I discovered that sleeping pills are what helped her slip into unconsciousness so quickly - she had timed her slumber so perfectly that every minute both awake and in dreams counted. And it needed to, especially as my mother still wallowed in self-pity and continued - now with her fists and palms - to abuse me, always stoned on her anti-depressant cocktail, only changing out of her pyjamas to go to the local church where my grandfather was the priest. Trinity would spend most of her time hanging with her girlfriends, or at the mall, or - as I'd heard - fucking random jocks in their cars. I wondered how underage sex was actually monitored in a small town, especially a town so seemingly religious. I eventually concluded that it is the responsibility of the parents. With our mother's selfish nature, we were fucked. At night Isis would undress in the room we shared, her back to me in the dark. The moonlight would cast a glare on her gorgeous curvy form, and I would watch her removing her bra and panties before donning a gown. As she entered the shower, I would quietly slide out of bed to find her panties, almost always thongs. Sniffing them, sometimes even kissing them, made me feel whole. I didn't know why; all I knew was that I loved my sister more than anything or anyone in the world, and I felt close to her like this. I would toss the panties back onto the floor when I was ready to drift off, content that I had spent the last ten or fifteen minutes in heaven. Sometimes, I would forget, and fall asleep with them scrunched in my hand. Isis always rose before me, and the floor was spotless. I had never been sure whether she realized that her underwear was missing, or whether she did but chose to ignore it. I later also wondered whether she chose to ignore the smell of her pussy on my nose as she cutely kissed me before she slipped into her own bed. On my thirteenth birthday, when I hit puberty and my perversions fully began, I had realized that the pleasure needs I had, were actually sexual needs. My teacher, Ms Diaz - a beautiful blend of American dirty blond hair and Hispanic light mocha skin complete with proud curves - had been at her desk reviewing the next lesson in which I would be present. She permitted me to take a seat and wait for class to start. I didn't take my eyes off her. I sipped the can of soda as I scaled the crease jumping out at me from her unbuttoned blouse, just enough cleavage to ensure every student in her room listened to what she would teach. The pockets of beautiful fat held up in her bra beneath rose and fell as she breathed, concentrating on her paperwork. Her legs were spread a foot apart beneath the table, and her flesh-colored tights showed off more leg than I presumed would be allowed in a metropolitan school. I dropped my soda, causing her to look up for a second. 'I'll sort it, Ms Diaz,' I said, leaping from my chair to mop up the liquid on the floor with paper towels. 'Thanks,' she replied in her husky tone, smiling briefly before getting back to her lesson plan, completely oblivious of my intention. As the paper towels absorbed the drink with ease, I glanced in her direction and froze. My eyes moved from her beautiful bare leg, upward to her thigh and into her skirt. I saw a swollen mound held tightly against white lace. Had I not been so fixated, I would not have noticed the tuft of dark pubic hair spilling out of the sides. All those nights holding Isis's panties to my nose, sniffing their sweet smell, and falling asleep with them in euphoria, came to a head in this very moment - I saw a glimpse of what may be held beneath them. And I realized, as my pants began tightening, that the feeling would manifest itself in the organ between my own legs. I felt charged, dizzy, ecstatic. And as Ms. Diaz shifted positions, widening her legs and exposing bulging labia either side of the lace wedged within, my hand found its way down to that very organ. I only had to touch the jutting fabric of my pants before I was crippled by a relentless sensation of dopamine rushing through my brain. As the bell rang, I asked to be excused to dispose of the kitchen towels. I hurried along the corridors to the boy's restroom and locked myself in a cubicle before pulling down my underwear. It was drenched in thick white matter. Like thin yoghurt. And it was warm. I realised in that moment, that this was the 'cum' that I had heard my grandfather refer to for the last couple of years when he had thought nobody was home and my grandmother had been at her knitting circle; chiming through the thin walls of our house, warning my mother about what he was going to do on her face. 4. Trinity faces the television, watching as my grandfather's cock plunges in and out of my mother's tight hole, scattering her juices on their skin. His finger squirms around in her tight, slightly sagging ass as his other hands slaps its red cheeks. 'Slowly, Baby Brother,' she moans gently as my own finger exits Trinity's hole. I watch it gape at me, and then slowly contract. The head of my average cock slips out of her inflamed cunt and rests on her wet brown rosebud. Her entire body in front of me, its perfection ruined by sweat and cum, sways with the last bit of energy within. 'Not long, Trin.' A few strokes would be all it took after hours of boiling semen in my testicles. I inch my cock into her tight ass, the muscles of the hole resisting. Trinity's short and quick breath builds as I violate her bit by bit. She pushes out, loosening her sphincter as much as possible, but the bubbling in my balls indicates I don't have much time. Her rectum clenches against my shaft as I start ramming into her violently. Her screams are eclipsed by those of my mothers. With no rhythm, no pace, I slam down into her with great force, her hands against my thighs, trying to ease me away. The thick meat in her ass is too much for her to bear, but I pin her into position. Quickly, rapidly I pummel as far as I can into her filthy brown hole, my entire cock disappearing inside her. I can no longer hold it - my balls clench and my cock swells, and I stiffen atop her. Both hands release her arms, and I palm frantically around to grasp each of her tits, knowing that my nails are digging into her flesh. Her screams are inaudible to me; my own, magnified moan is the only thing I hear as hot spurts of cum jet into her bowel, filling her to the point of leakage. I bite down on her shoulder as faintness engulfs me, slowly causing me to collapse. I weakly glance at the television; my grandfather is about to empty his loads into my mother's throat. I yank my cock, still hard from the clenching of Trinity's rectum, out of her ass. The trapped wind inside her expels my own cum onto my thighs whilst the rest pours out in a thick stream. She yelps in genuine pain as I pull her face to me and bury my cock deep in her throat, slapping her and asking her in time with my grandfather: 'Who's your fucking daddy?' She looks at me, worried, but hopeful. Her face is a mess of sweat, make-up and thick white cum; her hair is in chaos. She releases my cock and continues to clean it. Her tongue then finds the cum on my thighs and she licks it up before falling back onto the bed. Completely spent, I nestle up beside her and we cuddle. 'Happy birthday, Trinity.' *** The summer I graduated high school, everything changed. Trinity, now twenty four and no prospects, had gotten a job working at the Pizza Den with Isis. She was seeing another jock douche called Josh, six four with half a brain cell. He was a marijuana dealer, and the local producer of fake identification for all of the idiots that liked to head into the city to drink. I would often hear him fucking my sister hurriedly in the garage late at night after Trinity's shifts and, with Isis firmly knocked out on sleeping pills, I would occasionally sneak out to spy on them through the window connecting the garage to the house. It was always the same drill - Trinity bent over the hood of Josh's car, shirt riding up with one of his big hands tugging at the perfectly rounded tits spilling out, whilst the other yanked on her ponytail; Trinity's skirt was always wrapped around her stomach, her legs spread with skimpy lace panties curled halfway down as Josh drove his enviously thick cock in and out of her. Trinity would often cover her mouth to stifle the moans caused by the deep pounding she was receiving from behind. What I found amazing was that she always knew when he was about to squirt his load, because she would grip his cock from behind, squeeze the base and swivel on the spot to catch every last drop onto her soft cheeks and flickering tongue. I knew Josh only ever picked her up to fuck her, and even on nights when I didn't spy, I was sure the garage drill was proceeding as normal and that he probably had a joint with her afterwards. Or perhaps it was her using him? Either way, she obviously loved sex, and had someone to do it with. Hell, she would always have someone to do it with. In the years since I had discovered the orgasm, my life had become shaped by sex. As the outsider at my school, it was impossible to get a girlfriend. And I would have happily settled for anyone that I could shove my dick into. Even a fat girl. But being an outsider in a backward American town means I might as well have been a leper - nobody would come near me, especially girls. So I drifted through high school friendless, quiet, and in the shadows. Whilst any normal, rational person would have stopped my grandfather's intense defiling of my mother, I saw it as an opportunity to experience euphoria. And to learn. It was always essential to sneak into the house as quietly as possible. The groans and screams echoing against the walls found my ears the minute I walked through the door; they were remarkably arousing, even if they were coming from my own mother's mouth. I would sneak up the stairs and peer through the door they had left ajar, presumably to listen out for arrivals. Whilst this was a practice I had mastered, I knew that I would someday get caught - and I had a plan to eternalize one of these voyeuristic sessions. The day before my life changed forever, I decided to film one particularly filthy display of animalism between my mother and my grandfather, using the video camera that Isis had bought me as a graduation present. 'Fuck me, fuck me, fucking FUCK ME!' my mother screamed as my grandfather's cock jutted in and out of her dripping snatch. My mother's juices were thick and plenty, easily lubricating my grandpa's finger as he buried it deep in her asshole. My mother's eyes floated backward into their sockets. My free hand tugged at the foreskin of my cock, intermittently stroking and gripping my balls in order to delay ejaculation. Grandpa, fully dressed in his priest's clothing, thrust aggressively into my mother's swollen cunt for hours - they always timed it perfectly, so that he was at church before grandma got home. By the end, her vocal chords were always on the verge of snapping, her heavy tits swaying violently with the force of his pounding. He removed the finger from her ass and spanked her visible cheek hard enough to echo, constantly until it looked sore. Any worries that I had of it causing her pain were alleviated by her screaming for him to hit her harder. Without warning, he yanked his wrinkled cock from my mother's glistening hole and effortlessly pulled her face to it. Her mouth gaped open and accepted it immediately and her lips sat pursed around the bulging member, her eyes closed, her mind on another planet. As I momentarily wondered whether my father had ever fucked my mother like this, one of my grandpa's hands bunched her ruffled hair whilst the other slapped the cheeks around the cock that was pulsating deep inside her throat. 'Who's your daddy?' he slapped. 'Who's your fucking daddy?' Before my mother could even think of an answer, she began to splutter; grandpa glued her face to his mound, cum spilling onto her chin and sweating tits. The camera was shaking; my own cum had sprayed into my hand and onto the floor, leaving me in a daze. After watching my mother thud to the floor, covered in sweat, cum dripping from her mouth, I somehow picked myself up and stumbled to my room, falling onto the bed and slipping down the mental slope of euphoria into depression at what I had witnessed yet again. Outside, grandpa's car came to life after a few moments, as I contemplated how to use the material I now had to my advantage - aside from my own pleasure. I didn't realize I had slipped into a nap until I opened my eyes to discovering oncoming dusk. 'Tomorrow,' I heard Isis say outside the door. I was still groggy, but alert. 'You'll have to do it - I can't face him.' 'We all love you so much,' Trinity whispered. Following what I presumed was a hug Isis entered the room in her Pizza Den uniform. She had not realized I was awake, and began to tip-toe from place to place, dropping her things beside her bed, and moving toward the bathroom. Out of a half-closed eye, I was disappointed to see that she was not getting undressed in the bedroom. But as I began to hear clothes falling onto the bathroom floor, my heart leapt at the prospect of her showering with the door wide open. As the shower began to flow, I snuck over to the doorway and peeked in. Through an opening in the shower curtain, I watched as warm water began cascading down my big sister's back, the light reflecting gloriously off her olive skin. She squeezed soap onto a sponge and invisibly massaged every inch of her body. I felt a twitch in my shorts as they began to protrude. Even though she was only twenty seven, I saw Isis as much older. And it caused me pleasant surprise to see that her beautifully firm buttocks were flawless, young, and as always, inviting. As she bent over to soap between her cracks I tried to glimpse her holes but the shower curtain restricted my view. I had dreamed of this moment, of seeing my beautiful big sister in all her naked beauty, since I was a child; since that day she pressed my face into her bosom; since that day she pissed on my hands; everyday as far back as I can remember. And as she finished exfoliating her legs and turned round, my heart pounded with something as strong as the muscle in my cock, straining against the fabric: love, true love. Isis's body was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on, and if I had had the mental capacity to move, I would have grabbed my camcorder to film this and treasure it forever. But I didn't want to miss a thing. Her eyes were closed, and the water bounced from the beautiful swell of her tits as she stood exfoliating each one separately, lifting in order to wash under each mound. Soap suds formed in the valley between her breasts as she continued to sponge downward across her taut stomach, along her shapely thighs. Her legs were cleanly shaved, smooth and entrancing. Confessions of an Unholy Mind I knew I loved my sister, but in this moment, in the wonderful realization that the rest of my life would be wonderful with Isis in it, I truly accepted that I was a creature capable of love. And, despite all of my self-doubt, one that could be loved. I was so irrationally and hopelessly under her spell, that I would have done anything she had asked me to. My heart felt electric, and my body followed suit: I wanted to hold her, to kiss her, and make passionate love to her. And as my thoughts dreamed on into visions of Isis and I marrying, having children, and settling down, she leaned back and her legs parted. My heart beat so loud I worried she might hear it. My big sister's beautiful pussy was perfectly creased, lines folded in little bumps of labia, and a smooth protruding clit that sat above them. I stared, transfixed, tears of joy forming in the corners of my eyes. Her hands snaked down to the hood of her clitoris. She gave no warning, no build up - her middle fingers began working in quick circular motions. I could never have dreamed that such disgusting behavior as watching my dead dad's father fuck his widow could be overridden by anything - but I was wrong. Isis masturbated so passionately that her eyes were squeezed shut, her gorgeous shimmering tits swinging as she worked her fingers under the hood, down the folds and into her pussy, and within a matter of a minute - about the time it took for me to realize that what I was seeing was not one of my fantasies but reality - she shuddered. I watched her for a moment, her eyes closed, and quick pants descending into controlled breathing as she regained her composure. Isis turned the shower off; I stole one last glance at her magnificent form, then slipped silently from the doorway to my bed, undressed down to my shorts, and pretended to be asleep. The show I had just seen, coupled with my heart's segue from infatuation to love, dazed me. I was still in this daze as Isis entered a few moments later; I didn't even try to look at her. Fully aware that she was completely naked as the towels were in our room, I just listened contentedly to her preparing for bed. I heard her brush her hair, open and close her night moisturiser, and eventually turn the lamp off. In total darkness, I opened my eyes as she came to sit beside me. There was no moonlight in our room, and she was completely invisible as her hand stroked the side of my face. She let it linger there a moment or two, before leaning into my ear. 'J'taime, mon cher,' she whispered, before planting a soft kiss on my lips, plunging me into the skies of ecstasy. She held it, long enough for me to inhale the mint on her breath. As she retracted, I pretended to be asleep and turned away from her. To my surprise, she lifted the cover quietly and climbed into bed with me. In only my shorts, my bare skin felt the warmth approaching as she gently fidgeted closer to me. Her lips found the back of my neck, sending a shudder through me that she clearly felt, because her arm wrapped around my chest, comforting me with her palm, softly tracing it up and down my torso. As she nestled closer to me, kissing my shoulder and neck with love, I felt the satin of her nightie against my back, and her soft breasts pushing up and down against it with each breath. Her bare leg brushed mine, and the slow twitch of my cock as it inflated, distracted me momentarily from the fact that she was crying silently. 'I love you so much, Baby Brother,' she wept quietly, 'so much.' Continuing the pretense of being asleep, I wriggled a little as her hand rested on my stomach, not wanting her to feel the invading protrusion below. I faked a heavy sigh, and then glanced back in the darkness acting convincingly like I had awoken. 'Isis?' I whispered. 'Oui, darling,' she replied. 'I'm here.' I turned to face her, her hand moving from my stomach to rest on my back. In the darkness, I found her beautiful face. It was moist from tears, her warm breathing quick as she wept 'Why are you crying?' I asked gently. 'No reason, sweetheart,' she whispered, pulling me closer and planting comforting kisses on my cheeks and forehead. Her soft lips came to rest an inch from mine. 'I just love you so much.' I was unsure of what was going on. But I knew that my immediate short term problem was the hard-on that had tented my shorts. I knew she could feel it, and I was scared shitless. 'I love you, too,' I said, wiping her tears away in the dark. 'Don't cry, Isis.' I felt her expression change into a smile, and she kissed my lips again, gently, softly. There was no heat in our embrace, only the love I had craved for so long. She pulled me closer, my raging erection poking her thigh. Her legs parted as she invited my own thigh to sit between them, my cock throbbing against the other. The warm sensation of her pussy radiated against my leg, and my hand found her lower back. I grazed the firm cleft of her ass and realized she was not wearing underwear. The part of me that wanted so much to devour my sister's pussy, to pull my shorts off and thrust into her and make desperate and passionate love to her, was subdued by the feeling of contentment, knowing that I was cuddling the woman I love. Isis rested her head in the nook between my shoulders, and did not mention my cock's pressure on her thigh. Her breasts pushed softly against my chest, and I could feel the tops of them in contact with my skin. The silence was wonderful, and full of peace. 'Isis?' 'Oui, mon cher?' 'I'm so happy.' She moved upward and kissed my forehead. 'Me too,' she whispered as she settled back. 'Good night, darling.' We slept in each others' arms like lovers' in a fairytale. Lust coursed through my veins a while, but it was always beaten by the only feeling of genuine happiness I had ever felt. Life was beautiful. I awoke the following day and found our room stripped of anything belonging to Isis; she had left without a trace. My heart threatened to shatter, and my sanity was on the verge of spiraling out of control. Both threats followed through later that day when I realized I would never see her again. 5. 'Are you seeing anyone?' I ask Trinity is still draped across me, recovering; one arm across my chest and her thigh pulled over my legs. My cock, now fully deflated and miniscule in its appearance, sits inches from her touch 'No, Baby Brother,' she smiles, kissing my cheek. 'I love you.' 'Then why were you late last night?' She retracts, offended. I know she isn't seeing anyone, but I like to remind myself - and her - that she is mine. I smile, making it very clear that I am teasing, before she lightly slaps me on the chest, her tits jiggling. Red indentations are dotted around the flesh evenly from where I dug in, but she does not complain of any pain. 'Asshole,' she cries playfully. 'We fuck almost everyday for the past seven years and you think I have the energy for anyone else?' 'Talking of assholes,' I smirk. 'Did you like your birthday present?' 'Well,' she ponders, her filthy face covered in dried sweat and mascara, still managing to look beautiful. 'The squirting was wonderful. But my asshole is kinda sore now.' 'So you didn't like it?' I am genuinely disappointed, fully knowing that I shouldn't be. If I'd had been any more aggressive, her puckered hole would have torn. Trinity senses my disappointment, and smiles. 'I could get used to it. Give my coil a break.' The IUD in her vagina. 'I can't imagine having a piece of metal in me,' I say. 'Well, I don't like condoms,' she replies. 'And you know the pill turns me into a bitch.' I look into her gorgeous green eyes seriously, her expression changing to match mine. 'I thought you'd gone off me.' 'Why would you think that?' she replies almost automatically. 'I dunno,' I shrug. 'You didn't, like, enjoy it as much.' She sprawls onto me, her fleshy tits creating cleavage against my chest, the sore spots looking very painful. My limp cock sits in her navel as she props her arms up on their elbows and holds her head in her hands to face me. 'I'll be the judge of that,' she says, kissing my nose. I can still smell her pussy, but despite its highly arousing odor I am just as spent as my sister. 'You know you drive me crazy.' 'Then why did you try to stop sucking me?' 'Hey,' she says, repositioning herself to pin me harder, looking into my eyes like a goading child. 'Why don't you try sucking on my cock for two hours and see whether you get tired?' She continues to stare at me, waiting for a response. The corners of her mouth curl upwards as she stifles a chuckle. 'Hmmmm?' I begin to giggle, and she joins me. 'Fair point.' My palms find her lower back, holding her close; I tell her that I love her. 'I know,' she muffles, her face in my shoulder. 'I just want you to be happy. It's all I've ever wanted.' She lifts her head to look into my eyes. 'It's all both of us ever wanted.' As my expression clearly slips into thought, she shimmies down and off the bed. 'Come on,' she says. Her ass cheeks wiggle as she walks away and out of the door, calling back. 'The funeral's at two. Get ready.' I lie on the bed, thinking about my life, about Trinity, about Isis. The thought that Trinity has settled for me, her own brother, when she could have any number of wonderful and successful men, fills my brain. I have always been too inadequate and fucked up for anyone; it was not fair that Trinity had to fall in love with me, to give in to my blackmail and then fulfill my demands freely. It was not fair that we were born into genes that were so deeply rooted with mental health problems, that one of my sisters had to disappear without a trace, and the other had to enter into an incestuous relationship with her brother. It was not fair that they both gave up their own happiness just to ensure that I never felt a moment of sadness. But then, life's not fair is it? The shower begins to flow next door, and Trinity yells at me to join her, and to hurry. As I peel myself off the bed, I think about the faces I will see at the funeral this afternoon, and whether the dam of my psychotic nature will break and create a river of insanity. It's only a matter of time. People like me aren't meant to live so freely for long. *** Trinity and I have been sleeping together since Isis left. Nobody knew where she had gone or why, but Trinity later hinted that Isis had known all about my mother and grandpa, and that she could take it no longer. My mother hadn't cared about anyone but herself in years, presumably since her new-found sexual appetite, so Isis moved away in the hope that she could set up home somewhere and bring Trinity and I to live with her. I didn't believe it. The abandonment was unbearable. Trinity also knew, but she was never without a boyfriend, and, I presume, any particular boy provided her with the necessary escape she required for a particular period. It was probably due to this that Trinity and I weren't very close. But the one time she tried to reach out to me had proved irreversible. I hadn't masturbated, or fantasized since the day Isis disappeared. Instead, the time was filled with Trinity attempting to persuade me to leave my room as I wallowed in the memory of my absent love. This was usually in the middle of the night after work, probably after she has been fucked. 'Fine,' she said from beyond the door. 'But please, I'll be in my room so come and talk to me okay? I'm worried about you, Baby Brother.' She left me to my thoughts. It was almost dawn, and she had just come in from the night shift at the Pizza Den. I heard her shower flow through the walls, heard her perform her bathing ritual, and then silence as she got into bed. I had wished that we were closer, just so that I could have somebody to talk to. As I sat there, occupied with a broken heart, I began to cry. Thoughts of Isis, her smile, her voice, her hair, and her beautiful body and the way it felt against mine, flooded my brain, and I could do nothing to stop them. I writhed on the bed in actual pain; I had nobody, like a pathetic little teenager having broken up with his girlfriend and thinking it was the end of the world. With puffy eyes and still sniffling, I rose from my bed and stumbled out. The hallway lights were off but blue was seeping in through the windows. My grandparents were asleep, and my mother was probably too heavily medicated on sedatives to wake up even if a fire swept through the house. I hobbled to Trinity's room in my daze, dressed only in the shorts I slept in. The room was dark but the curtains were not thick enough to shelter the sunrise. As I entered, I noticed from the mirror opposite her bed that her eyes were closed and she was purring sleepily. 'Trin,' I sobbed, rousing her slightly. Under some heavy, lovesick trance, but clearly aware of my actions, I staggered to her bed and slipped beneath the duvet. 'Sweetheart?' she asked softly as my arms wrapped around her. She was warm, so warm. And soft-skinned. I briefly noticed through my tears that she was wearing a single vest and nothing else. It felt like a silk nightie, and its thin straps lay loosely on her shoulders. Her tits surfaced comfortably from the other side. 'It's okay, baby,' she cooed, my face to the back of her head. She lifted a hand to stroke my cheek and I saw her smile in the mirror as my sobbing died and my breathing returned to normal. Her face was so beautifully natural, especially without make up. Her lips, even when they were not in a pout, were wonderfully full and sexy. 'I love your blow-job lips,' I'd heard Josh tell her once. She suddenly stopped stroking my cheek. The smile wavered. Her eyes shot open. 'Sweetie, - ' she began, but I was breathing heavily again, and I could feel her alarm. She began to scramble weakly but I held her close, not wanting to let go. My penis had stiffened in my shorts, and she could feel it prodding the beautiful crack of her ass. 'Oh Trin,' I sobbed, holding her tight, the hand on her stomach darting up to squeeze her ample boobs. My lips found her neck and her cheek, and they swapped frantically with my tongue as it tried to cover every inch of flesh with kisses and licks. 'Sweetie, please - ' I held her in place. I yanked her vest down and her round tits fell out. My fingers immediately found a nipple and began tugging it, making it hard. The first feeling of a breast in my hand was wonderful, and as torn as I felt wanting it to be Isis's, the bulging cock poking Trinity's asshole didn't care. My mouth was still glued to her face, trying to find its way to her lips, as my hand shot downwards and pulled her thighs apart. She was still struggling to break free as my finger darted into her moist slit. 'Baby, no,' she moaned, but loosening a little. My finger was still inside her gradually throbbing pussy, stroking. As her resistance relaxed further, our eyes met. I held my hand still. Her expression was as torn as my heart, as she looked beyond my crying eyes and into my pain. 'I'm sorry,' I said sorrowfully. I really was. We held each other's gaze for an eternity, Trinity's brain processing what was happening, perhaps trying to figure out how fucked up I really was. She glanced down at the end of the finger that was still inside her. 'Don't be, Baby Brother.' She immediately grabbed my head and pulled me to her face, her tongue massaging mine passionately. I felt her nails dig into my head, and the fingers of the other frantically yank my shorts as far down as she could reach; it was enough to allow my throbbing cock to bounce into her hand. She scrambled beneath me and guided my aching member to her wet opening. I could feel the moisture of her juices coating her pussy, both the lips and the hole. There was no thinking involved. Our deep kiss continued, my hand gripping her big fleshy tit as my mushroom found her slit and forced itself the whole way in. She gasped, her mouth widening, her forehead wrinkling. I drove into her again, once, twice, the tight flesh squelching against my thrusts. The pressure surrounding my entire cock as it rocked inside her was a completely new sensation, as was the warm moist feeling of it being clamped as cum began bubbling up inside my balls. 'Oh God,' she panted, breathing heavily but quietly as my hand found her throat and pinned her head to the pillow. She looked at me, her breath frozen, as I began pumping jets of cum hard and fast into her pussy. Each stroke was as intense as the last, until the very last drop took with it my energy. My grip on her throat loosened and I collapsed onto her. In the haze of my first experience of sexual intercourse, I opened my eyes long enough to see Trinity's yearning and expectant expression drop into disappointment - she didn't expect this to be so short lived. Or maybe she wanted the only time she comforted her brother to result in a mind blowing orgasm for her. Either way, as I watched my cream seep out of her wet slit, my own cock coated in her juices, I decided that this would not be the first and last time this would happen. I was determined to ensure for the rest of our lives, boyfriend or no boyfriend, that my sexual relationship with Trinity would certainly be as charged as this had been, but by no means as short. If she declined, then I had the footage of my mother that would destroy our lives; I had read enough to know that in time, I would no longer need to use the video, that Stockholm Syndrome would kick in. Isis would live on in Trinity's body, taking the place of the only thing in this world I had ever truly loved. 6. I walk into the living room whilst Trinity rushes upstairs and makes the phone call. My mother is soaked in her disgusting expressions of alcohol and drug induced distress, her head in grandpa's lap, both of them watching television. Neither of them seems to be affected by the funeral that took place only hours ago. Grandpa is still dressed in his priest's clothing, but my mother has changed out of the clothes she wore to the burial, at least partially. She is still in her translucent lace-top stockings - something that grandpa undoubtedly commanded she wear - and matching lace panties. Her blouse is undone, and her black bra has been pushed aside to allow one sagging tit to hang out, the nipple standing hard within grandpa's fingertips. As I stand in the doorway, I see her eyes conscious enough to flicker up toward me, and then back to the television. Neither of them seems to give a fuck that I'm there. Perhaps they had been waiting to be open like this for years? My grandfather's other hand is invisible behind my mother's ass, but I can see movement in her crotch, in sync with the thick sloshing sound of her pussy as his fingers work in and out. 'You bastards,' I tremble, rage building inside of me. Neither of them looks at me; grandpa merely removes his hand from my mother's panties and sticks the fingers into her mouth. She sucks on them like a baby animal would feed on its mother's teat. 'You sick, sick bastards!' 'Now, now, sonny,' my grandfather drawls half-attentively. 'Watch your mouth or you'll get the belt.' I stride over to the couch and kick him in the face with all the force I can conjure. He immediately falls to the carpet, winded, breathing heavily. My mother comes to life and yells at me, but with no strength to get up. 'It's done,' Trinity yells, coming down the stairs. 'We're free.' 'We're going,' I shout. 'We're going, and we are never coming back!' My grandfather stares at me furiously from the floor; if he had been younger and had strength, he would have finished me by now. I leave him to watch as I squat down next to my mother.