0 comments/ 73102 views/ 16 favorites The Five-Percent Plan By: Cal Y. Pygia Dear Diary, I am too old to keep a diary, Dear Diary, but it amuses me to do so, holding onto the image of myself as a young and innocent girl when, in fact, I am a wicked young lady. Besides, I need someone I can confess my sins to, and, since I'm not Catholic or even all that religious, you will have to do. Ready? Here goes, then: my confession. * * * "Am I sure I want to do this?" I repeated. "Are you kidding?" Jake squirmed. I arched an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look as I let silence build between us. Sometimes, silence has a way of extracting the truth more effectively than sodium pentothal. "I want to," he confessed. I knew he did. "But?" I prompted. "Well, you know." "I don't." He swallowed, shifted his weight, averted his gaze. "It's incest, Kate." "Of course it is," I agreed. "We're brother and sister." I was stretched out beside him on our parents' king-size bed. Mom and Dad were gone for the day, and both of us were naked. "Don't you want me?" Despite himself, he glanced at me. At eighteen, I'm pretty much in the prime of my life, physically as well as sexually, and, frankly, I'm a stunningly beautiful young woman. At nineteen, my brother is quite the handsome stud, too. We'd been attracted to one another, emotionally and sexually, since puberty. We'd often joked about how things might have been--or would have been--if we hadn't been siblings. Lately, the jokes had taken a serious turn for both of us, and we'd decided to sleep together, just this once, to satisfy our curiosity as to what it would be like to be truly intimate with one another. "Of course I want you," he muttered. "You know that." I shook my head. "You could have fooled me." "It's just that--" "--it's incest, I know." I sighed. "Jake, we've been through all this." "I mean, what if you get pregnant?" "I won't," I said. "What if you did, and our child had a birth defect?" "I'm on the pill," I reminded him, "and you're going to wear a condom, remember?" "What if something goes wrong?" "It won't." I stroked his scrotum. Inside the smooth, tight bag of flesh, his balls rolled back and forth under my palm. His cock was thick and hard. It stood straight up, along his belly. I let my fingers curl around his erection, squeezing his sex gently, then more firmly. He moaned. "I want you," I told him. He rolled onto his side, and his mouth met mine. His tongue thrust between my lips, swirling around my own oral appendage. Our mouths were warm, wet caverns of flesh. My nipples were so hard they hurt. He broke our kiss. "It's incest." "My pussy's overflowing," I told him. It was, too; my cunt was a river. "Maybe we should--" "Yes," I said, "we should!" I helped him on with his condom. "Now!" I ordered. Jake hesitated. Then, he rolled atop me, between my splayed thighs. He lifted his hips, and his penis slipped through my labia and slit deep into my liquid center. I gasped. "Fuck me!" I ordered. His hips rose, drove forward again, and his cock rode along the wet tunnel of my sex. I was more than wet; I was sodden, and my pussy made sloppy sounds as my brother fucked me, plunging his prick back and forth through the lips of my cunt and into the depths of my pussy, faster and harder, driven by the lust that inflamed his heart and soul. I wrapped my legs around the backs of his thighs and, reaching behind him, cupped his buttocks in my hands, feeling them rise and fall, tighten and relax, as he rode me. My nails dug hard into his flesh, and the sudden pain seemed to spur him on; he shoved his cock into me with frenzied determination, slamming his groin into mine, shoving his cock into my cunt, and racking my frame with the violence of his assault. My breasts quivered, wobbling and bouncing. I breathed in quick, ragged gasps, and Jake panted, his sweat falling upon me, warm and thick. Orgasm seized me, shaking me to the very core of my being, and I cried out, my ecstasy so intense that its vocalization sounded like shrieks of agony. I had only myself to blame--or, rather, to thank--I told myself. For the past three months, I'd seduced my brother, going braless; wearing my thong bikini around the house whenever Mom and Dad were gone and Jake and I were home alone, supposedly because I was on my way to or from a tanning session in our backyard; coming out of the bathroom naked, while pretending I'd thought I was the only one home; wearing short shorts that displayed half my backside; sitting thigh to thigh with him in the dark, watching television with him and running my hand absently over my breasts. I'd also mentioned a report to him that I'd written for a high school history class, just last year, concerning Egyptian pharaohs. "They had sex with their sisters," I'd told Jake. "What do you think about that?" "Gross!" he'd cried. I'd gazed deeply into his eyes, actually stroking his six-pack abs, as I'd ventured, "I think it's sexy." I'd kept the topic alive by mentioning to him that, in the days of the Old Testament, men had also had sex with their relatives, brothers with sisters and fathers with daughters. "I'd like to see what that's like," I'd told him finally. "Wouldn't you?" "No," he'd said. I'd looked disappointed, rubbing his crotch. "Why not?" He'd removed my hand--but gently, I'd noticed--and reluctantly. "It's not right." I'd placed my hand back on his cock and balls. His dick, I'd noticed, was hard. He'd squirmed. "Don't," he'd protested, half-heartedly. But he hadn't removed my hand this time. "Why is it wrong, big brother?" I'd asked, giving his erection a squeeze when I'd said "big." "It could cause birth defects." "Only if I got pregnant," I'd replied as I'd stroked his cock, through the tight fabric of his jeans. I could feel the heat of his smoldering sex. "I'd be careful," I'd told him. "It's too risky," he'd said. "I'm on the pill," I'd told him, "and you can wear a condom." He'd offered a bit more resistance, but I'd managed to persuade him--it hadn't been all that difficult, really, and, now, here we were, Jake atop me, fucking me as if I were a two-bit whore instead of his little sister! I was orgasmic--again--and my eyes rolled up inside my head, as I writhed beneath my brother, caught up in the frenzy of the sensations that ravished me. My nails dug deep into Jake's bottom, and I howled like a she-wolf in heat. The tsunami of orgasmic pleasure that had crashed through my loins was followed by another--and another. My cries seemed to re-energize Jake--not that he needed his batteries recharged--and he plunged and thrust and jabbed his thick, hard manhood into me repeatedly, his cock a piston inside the cylinder of my cunt. While Jake fucked me, I imagined that he was King Tutankhamun and that I was his sister-wife, Ankhesenamun, who, by all accounts, he'd not only fucked but loved. King Tutankhamun and his bride had had the same father, the great pharaoh Akhenaten, who had also been his daughter Ankhesenamun's first husband, but the children had had different mothers. Ankhesenamun had been born to Queen Nefertiti, whereas Tutankhamun's mother had been one of Ankhesenamun's sisters, a daughter of Amenhotep III. Therefore, King Tutankhamun and Ankhesenamun had been only half-siblings. Jake and I were even closer than the Egyptian royal couple had been, for we were both the offspring of the same parents! The thought that we were closer kin than even one of the great pharaohs and his wife had been thrilled me, and another series of orgasmic waves rushed through me, my pussy overflowing, as my brother continued to slam his rigid prick into my stuffed and overflowing sex. Yes, and Jake and I were closer even than the Biblical patriarch Abraham, who'd married his half-sister Sarah, or King David's eldest son, Amnon, who'd ravished his half-sister, Tamar. Most of the rest of the incestuous unions mentioned in the Old Testament were between cousins. Few, by comparison, past or present, had ever known the degree of intimacy that my brother and I were sharing, even now, I thought, as another flood of orgasmic passion rocked me, and I cried out, trembling and gasping. Jake gave a final, forceful shove of his cock though the petal-soft, sopping tissues of my pussy, and he groaned, tossing his head back and grimacing, as if in mortal agony, as he spilled his seed inside me, his sister, his buttocks tightening mightily and his whole body shuddering. I climaxed with him, another terrific orgasm seizing me. My pussy was no longer a river; it had become the very ocean itself, and the currents of my passion not only soaked our parents' bed, but bathed us, also, in secretions from my innermost depths. Having emptied his balls, Jake sought to roll off me. However, his cock was still stiff and swollen, and I hugged him to my breast. "Stay inside me," I urged him, and he lay still, his heart beating rapidly against my bosom as his lungs heaved. "How was it?" I asked him. "As good as you'd thought?" "Better," he admitted. "It was great," I agreed. I kept him atop me for several minutes, holding him fast. At length, his penis became soft and limp, and the flaccid organ withdrew, shriveling, and eased from my still-wet cunt. I very much enjoyed our lovemaking, not only emotionally, but in other ways, too--and for other reasons than sexual bliss. It has been three days now since we made love in our parents' bed, and I have not bathed, for sperm can remain viable inside a woman's vagina for up to five days, able to impregnate her, and I want a child by my brother, despite the remote chance of having a baby with a birth defect. I will confess to you, Dear Diary, what I dare not admit to Jake: I did not take a birth-control pill before we fucked! Moreover, before I "helped" my brother don his condom--before we'd even entered my parents' bedroom, in fact, to have intercourse--I poked several holes in my brother's condom--small holes that were difficult to see, but holes that were, nevertheless, large enough to spill his ejaculate. In the absence of birth control, a woman has a three- to five-percent chance of becoming pregnant. I'm an optimist; that's why I call my scheme to become pregnant by my brother's seed The Five-percent Plan. Of course, my plan may not succeed; in fact, there's a 95- to 97-percent chance that it will fail. That's why I also have a Plan B: if I fail to become pregnant, I intend to seduce my brother again. It shouldn't be too difficult. After all, he's had a bite of the forbidden fruit of sibling incest, and, although incest with his sister may be an acquired taste, I think it's safe to say that, for Jake, as for me, it's also a sinfully delicious one. Besides, I'll tell him I'm on the pill and agree that, by all means, he should definitely wear a condom.