7 comments/ 21603 views/ 21 favorites The T(h)rustful Voice Pt. 01 By: Heatseek3R Notice: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, events, etc., is coincidental. All characters who perform sexual activities in this story are eighteen years or older. / Foreword / Yes, the 'H' in brackets was totally intended, EOT. This is my first story published here at Literotica, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I hope you'll enjoy reading as much as it was enjoyable for me to write. If you happen like it, please vote & comment. Just a few important things before you start to read: The first thing, this story has two major themes, which are not that commonly found intertwining: incest among siblings and a relationship with a transsexual woman. I thought mixing these two would be interesting, but hey, you decide if that's your cup of tea. The second thing, this story likes butts -- big or small -- and it cannot lie. There's a pretty big amount of anal sex and ass worship, together with some of loosely related fetishes like ass to mouth (later in the story) and others (to a lesser degree). You've been warned. ;) The last thing, Part One is, in fact, an extended intro to the multi-part series -- 'extended' would be a good word, I think, because intros generally tend to be a little shorter. The next part will contain more sex and more action in general. I'm not saying it'll come fast, though (pun intended?). So, no more talking and have a good read! ~ Heatseek3R ***** - THE T(H)RUSTFUL VOICE - PART ONE: "Broadening The Horizons" Chapter 1 The room he had been led to was white and sterile to the point where it was a little frightening. A feminine hand pointed at the right door and he opened it absent-mindedly, then stepped inside. The door closed behind him almost instantly, just like in some B-grade horror movie. Ridiculously white surroundings almost got him blinded, and it took him a little time to notice a certain bench-like instrument in the middle of the room -- something in no doubt designed to lie down on it and suffer. At least that was what he had thought when he had first spotted it. It was his very first visit there and he still wasn't sure if going there were a right decision. His aim was to get rid of redundant hair in certain places, both for comfort, self-confidence, and hygiene purposes. He believed that the beginning of summer was always the best time for experimentation, especially when it came to appearance. During the past few summers he had changed a lot: when he was 16, he started to trim his pubic hair regularly; when he was 17, he let hair of his head to grow much longer for the first time. During the last summer holidays, he decided to grow facial hair -- a short goatee. A few weeks before, another, much smaller tuft of hair had become visible right under his lower lip -- he was growing a soul patch or something of a kind -- whether it was going to stay was yet for him to decide. Now he was 20 years old; he felt the need to remove hair from his body, from quite a few places, including those you shouldn't mention during breakfast with your family. At the same time, he wanted his chest hair to stay; he didn't give a damn about fashion or anything, he liked it and that was what counted, hell, even one of his younger sisters (the one that didn't hate his guts) had said once that it looked cool. He had never been to a beauty parlor before, and now -- in all honesty -- he was scared and then some. All the time spent in the parlor's waiting room had driven him even more anxious about this whole hair removal thing he wanted in the first place. He couldn't wait for it to start, but at the same time, it had made him so afraid of things to happen behind the closed door of the bright, white-tiled, sterile room. He was exaggerating, of course, he had to admit it at last. Neither these white tiles were all that blinding nor the place was as creepy as he saw it. This place wasn't anything like those so-called 'massage parlors', and he had been trying to remind this to himself for a moment now. This place was better than that, it looked professional, and by the way, majority of customers were women if that could help to prove it. 'It can't be that bad,' he thought at last. He spotted a woman who was there to tear hair off his body, and he couldn't help but smile with a corner of his lips. She was leaning against the high, neatly upholstered bench in the middle and waiting for the next client. Her petite body looked very attractive in a white uniform, even when its top part wasn't showing much of her cleavage. She was almost his height, with orange-red wavy hair that lay on her shoulders freely in a slightly chaotic manner. The red was contrasting with girl's fair skin tone. "Hi. How are we doing?" she asked, smiling sympathetically. Her voice was quite amiable and sexy: soft and cheerful, but also with a little bit of hoarseness to it. "Hi. I'm a little scared," he replied, being nothing but honest, and let himself smile. The redheaded girl chuckled and that was the moment when Max realized how gorgeous she was. Her face was heart-shaped and her skin had a healthy look to it. Her pretty nose had mild freckles around it. Her lips were not exactly full, but also not thin; they were of natural, warm color. She looked Irish, he could say, or maybe part-Irish -- not that uncommon thing in Maine, where every sixth person was of that descent, statistically speaking. If he were to guess her age, he would say twenty-three. The feature that got him the most were her eyes. Their not-so-common tint was balancing somewhere between the two rarest of natural colors, blurring the line between the green and blue. It was once said that the eyes were the mirror of one's soul, but this clearly wasn't the case here -- her eyes had some strange barrier behind them, which no gaze could penetrate with ease, forget his. He found himself staring a bit, their image being downright bewitching as he perceived it. In desperation, he tried to look elsewhere, so his eyes went straight south of all possible directions. "So, what's your name?" the girl asked just a second before he would have glanced at her breasts. She didn't want him to spot her already hardening nipples... just yet. She was genuinely shocked by her own line of thinking and reaction. Her nipples had never been this hard for a man before, not as far as she could remember. Her bra wouldn't help much here as its material was too thin to mask it; she was wearing it partly for comfort, and mainly because it was accentuating the feminine shape of her chest. There was also a requirement for all female workers wear these. She thought it was because of his gaze, the way he had been looking in her eyes, that made them erect. He didn't even know her name, but he instantly adored her eyes -- she was quite sure of that. She had felt a surprising tingle between her legs too while he was looking in them. The redhead flushed a little as if asking someone's name were embarrassing. "My name's Max," he answered, a simple smile drawing on his face. "Alice. Nice to meet you." She copied the expression from his face. He reached out for a handshake and she happily reciprocated. "Sit down, please," she pointed at the bench, a spot right next to her. He sat down in silence and felt a little uncomfortable; such a pretty, (probably) natural redhead, was a somewhat common motif in his fantasies. "I'm gonna ask you a couple of questions," she announced. He gave her a silent nod, now looking a little nervous as well. Alice studied him curiously, hoping she was showing a professional look on her face at this moment. Max had to be in his (very) early twenties. At first glance, he seemed to be a really nice and friendly guy. He was something just below six feet in height if her eyes had measured him right. The young man looked pale and had a decent enough figure; his stomach was sticking out a little, but it was nothing to dislike, especially since it was compensated by the wide chest he had. He was brown-eyed, had thin lips and some facial hair -- namely a short goatee and a somewhat cute tuft of hair below his lower lip, the way she saw it. Max smelled of sweat and some cheap male deodorant (which obviously did only half its job). It crossed her mind that she was enjoying his scent -- especially its natural, slightly irritating part for the most. The realization of this startled her and made her feel a bit like a weirdo. She decided not to think about it and finally asked these few routine questions, e.g., if he were by any chance allergic to wax. He wasn't, from what he knew. Then she casually noted that wax allergy is a rare occurrence anyway, so he shouldn't be worried. Then was the question about hemophilia, just for the right amount of unsettlement. She was quite surprised it didn't bore him to death, being as boring as standard procedures could ever get. After a couple more of such questions, she finally asked him if he were sure where from he wants hair to be removed, or if he needed some advice instead. He looked really nervous. He mindlessly took the third option and answered with a simple 'yes'. "You meant you need an advice?" she asked in a polite tone. "Uh, yeah... I don't want to look weird after that wax thingy," he smiled sheepishly and blushed a bit. It made her chuckle and smile wider. He noticed her reddening subtly again as well. "Max," she said, "May I ask you why you decided to go to a beauty shop in the first place? An important date?" She looked at him with curious eyes and sweet, innocent smile. But was it really all that innocent? "Wishful thinking," he replied almost instantly. With a slight grimace and a sigh, he pointed with his eyes at his belly or somewhere below. "I thought that by removing hair from... certain places would make me feel more... self-confident." "Great choice. Strip down for me." She facepalmed herself as soon as she heard the ridiculous words that escaped her mouth and the semi-erotic tone, in which she spoke them. Then she sighed and her hand slid down her forehead, covering the upper half of her face. "Uh, don't get me all wrong, but... did you just hit on me?" he asked in a quiet, genuinely surprised voice. "Uh uh?" she confirmed somewhat apologetically together with a nod, watching him through the space between her fingers with her right eye. "Sorry." He laughed it off as soft as he could, then said, "I think I should, like um, return the favor?" Alice uncovered her face and cast a short, equally inquisitive and surprised glance at him, and then blinked a few times. Then she looked down, thinking in silence and chewing her lip nervously. She touched his knee cautiously, and then the lower part of his thigh as she slid her hand about halfway up its height. She smiled, timidly at first. It was like the sun making its appearance after a violent thunderstorm, beams of bright sunlight piercing their way through dark clouds. She cleared her throat, more likely because of a habit than of need. "If you really wish to, um, 'return the favor', I highly suggest you hold me now," she said. A playful, prolonged, and impossible-to-miss wink made a guest appearance on her face. "Because you know, how could I insist you do any naughty things?" She gave him this infamous 'innocent little girl' look, complete with a small pout and her head leaning to the side and asked, "Hug me, Max? It's just a polite question, you know." With sudden, hormones-induced bravery and a smirk on his face, he held her in the waist and pulled himself much closer, causing her to laugh a bit at his clumsiness. He laughed it off as well. Being just a few short inches from her, he blew a prolonged stream of cool air down on her lips and she started to shudder slightly, an equally shaky sigh escaping her mouth. He finally hugged her, but she pushed him back a little; she tried to kiss his lips, but they were out of her reach, always for a mere inch. "Kiss me?" she asked, trying her best not to grin too wide. Her eyes became unclear as if she were dreaming; he couldn't take his eyes off her and neither could she off him. His chest was becoming a much, much warmer and louder place. "Pretty please," she added in a dreamy voice that matched her eyes perfectly. In no time, he was avidly sucking her lips, his arms locked tight around her body, keeping her close. She couldn't believe how good it felt to be kissed by him, and after a short moment, to be able to finally kiss him back; her tongue, playful and with mind of its own, made some first, a little shy advances to probe his mouth, and was greeted with no resistance other than his tongue trying to flirt with hers a bit. The sensation of making out was so great that she wished to continue it for all eternity; it was just so damn cunning. Once they naturally broke the kiss, it felt like a perfect idea for them to simply look at each other, feeding their memory-hungry minds. She was the first one to speak. "That was great... no, amazing," she whispered and playfully avoided his kiss. He saw her biting her lower lip impatiently. "Now show me that body. I mean it this time." He wouldn't let this angel wait any longer. She helped him to get naked real quick, watched him turn around and tie a towel around his waist, and then made sure he was lying on the bench both properly and comfortably. It was her job, after all. She couldn't have missed a clear outline of his erection in the front of the towel she had given him. It was suddenly quite attractive to her. She also checked if his clothes weren't all over the floor -- it would only draw suspicion. The next few quarters of an hour were filled with opposing sensations: the touch of her cold fingers and slightly cooler palms -- great; hot wax poured onto his skin -- nice; the feeling of being skinned alive -- awfully painful, obviously. Then there were a few shaves with a top quality safety razor here and there, where waxing wasn't a good option. In general, she was working as if he were just another customer; she was being polite, asking if he felt alright, helping him wrap up towel around his pubic area again when it hadn't been currently 'worked on', etc. This whole situation seemed weird, considering her request just minutes ago: "Strip down for me." Hot damn. All this faked normality was arousing him more and more, to the point of a sudden pre-ejaculation. He was really embarrassed, but all she did was cast a surprised glance at him, and then, out of the blue, she licked the artificial amount of seed clean from his belly and basically sucked it off the tip of his still-erect penis; she swallowed it down her throat, moaning quietly and happily, kissed the tip and then returned to work as if nothing had ever happened. And that innocent smile on her face; 'Is there something wrong, sir?' it kept asking. 'Innocent my ass,' he thought. Alice was a sex-driven demon and he craved her like no girl before her, even if he knew her only for this short period of time. Alice was acting like a professional beautician (cosmetician? hair removal lady? -- he didn't know the proper name). Max just knew that she had to be working in this job for at least a few years straight; her skills just explained it for her. She didn't let him suffer too much, just the required amount that everyone needed to go through to see the finish line and their brand new, hairless butt. Max chuckled uncontrollably at the thought. Alice smiled a little wider, planted a soft kiss on his now hairless butt cheek, and then went on with her work. It felt nice, the touch of her wet lips. Seducing. He was worried he would come at any moment, this time in full, all from pain, her faked innocence, and naughty little things she would do to him once in a while. The worst pain was when she was removing hair from his crack, and lower, between his thighs. The pain was killing him, making him groan and swear under his breath (which made her giggle after a moment), but he knew he had to grin and bear it. There was no way around it; the only way led to hell and through, like in that old-school shooter game -- he forgot the title. What he felt after Alice finished torturing his rear end, left him amazed and shocked at the same time. He was still on his knees and forearms, totally unsuspecting and utterly relieved that she had actually finished her daily bread-earning torture. Her palms began to meander all across the now smooth skin of his ass, and in the meanwhile, she planted a couple of soft kisses on its sweaty surface. He thought it was so hot, and his groin stirred approvingly. Still, it was but a beginning. "Max? I know this is not a so-called 'massage parlor' -- and I swear, it really isn't -- but I wanna show you something very intimate and fun," she whispered into his ear as she stroked his backside. "It'll be just between the two of us, okay?" Her voice, even if quiet, was bursting with excitement. "Just say 'stop' if you want me to, well, stop," she added and instantly chuckled. Her little speech sounded better in her head, she noticed not for the first time that day. He had nodded timidly at everything she said, briefly wondering what was ahead of him. At first, Max felt her hands parting the halves of his butt, then one short stream of hot air on his balls and something wet and warm -- her velvet tongue, running up the length of his crack. All of his muscles tensed and he twitched chaotically. It wasn't really happening, he had to be dreaming. Her pointed tongue stopped at his entrance and... she kissed it so affectionately, she did! Max was stunned, to put it mildly, and his moan had shown it fully. He heard her blissful, soft laugh, which she tried to keep low. "You're so tense, try to relax, sweetie," she said with care. "It'll be better this way." "And what if anyone sees you like this? I mean, Alice, your job..." "No one will come, trust me." "How do you know?" "They all think I'm a raging lesbian." "Wait, what the—?!" "Shh, kiddo. A lesbian. But I'm really bisex." She kissed his anus again and with passion. "Enough for a proof?" He sighed and chuckled, his head bursting at the seams from new, shocking information and his brain's screams for further oral stimulation. He thought he might learn to like it, a lot. "Just rim me," he managed to say. The redhead giggled, unable to say a word. As he was slowly becoming more and more relaxed (but also completely stiff in one particular spot), her greedy tongue kept on dancing wildly, exploring the new, virgin territory. It went down to the end of the crack, touching sensitive flesh right behind his sack, and went up again, to stop at her main point of interest -- his anus, which she licked once more, with a gasp full of lust. She wrapped her arms around his butt, which he immediately stuck out at her hungry mouth. This time, she focused even more on licking on and around his pulsing, distinctively smelling rim. She was feeling delirious and horny as fuck and nothing short of, and so was he. It was incredible. Alice thought his ass would swore love to her tongue if it only could speak. She sensed him shaking and shivering clear as though she was experiencing it herself, and she heard his quiet, shaky gasps. She got that as a cue and started to kiss his tight hole at first, but it turned into a full-blown, relentless sucking in no time, the sweet sensation of suction that drove him mad for more. His gasps had become much louder for a moment. Seeking for a well-deserved, short breath, she parted her sweet lips from his flesh and was rewarded with an unexpected fart. He heard her giggling hysterically and felt a non-violent, playful spank. She let the smell fill her lungs as if it were an expensive perfume and sighed in shameless pleasure. The T(h)rustful Voice Pt. 01 "Oh-my-god-I'm-sorry," he panicked in realization of what he did. He expected her to scold him. "Don't be silly. I liked it," she confessed in a lighthearted voice. She knew exactly what he was thinking of her at the moment, but she continued without interruption. "And by the way, you're really tasty here. Sweaty, smelly, kinda sticky... just the way I love it. You're driving me nuts with this luscious backside." She spanked him lively instead of using an exclaimer. He wouldn't call his ass 'luscious' by any standards, but that didn't matter now. To make her words more true, she pressed her lips right to his asshole and kissed, and then kissed some more, and again, with a bit of tongue. He felt like melting. His flesh was screaming silently, his nerves crying from sheer pleasure. The pointed tip of her stuck-out tongue poked his orifice again, and the girl continued her happy laughter, albeit a bit muffled by his flesh. He sensed her interrupted breath and saliva on the most sensitive skin. It was insane, the woman was insane too. He loved it, though, and could easily love her for just that. Alice knew that if all of this didn't scare him away yet, he was going to stay. Hesitant and maybe confused, but he was going to submit and enjoy her treatment, even if not admitting it directly. "More farts," she requested. "Give me a bit more, sweetie." "What?" he tried to oppose, genuinely shocked. He couldn't accept just what he had heard her say. "Alice, I thought you were like twenty-three or something..." "Twenty-five, actually." She spanked his butt and giggled silly. She kissed the aching skin. "And that's for your random guessing." "It wasn't rand—" "I was kidding. Come on, fart on me. Just for the giggles." She slapped his ass again, this time for an encouragement. "Make your girl happy." With a bit of hesitation and a sigh, he pushed his bowels to release another invisible, smelly cloud, which she sniffed in proudly. He felt a strange sense of guilt and shame, but only until he heard her soft laughter again. She seemed to like it, was enjoying it. It was even a bit funny, albeit totally weird to him. 'On the other hand,' he thought, 'if it is to make her happy, so be it.' He had already decided he would give this redheaded perv a lot more had she only asked. But what would she ask for? Alice went right back to her new, kinky duties, starting from kissing and tonguing his ass again, but only as a warm-up to what was coming next. He couldn't oppose her when she finally started to push her wet tongue inside him. He was fully aware that he was about to lose some kind of innocence he had never even realized he had before this very moment. And it was gone in just several seconds. It had only taken her this much time -- and about half a dozen of attempts -- to steal it forever. All he was able to do was to utter a soft moan. Had someone asked him (and he hoped not) what was it like to be on the receiving end in an oral-anal sex, he would surely have a hard time describing it, but would also most likely use the words like 'wet', 'warm', 'making me horny', and 'funny feeling'. It was all new to him, her tongue, soft as velvet, depriving him more and more of his questionable innocence, shove after shove. Her warm cheeks were bouncing against his totally different kind of cheeks as he banged his sweaty, fat, pale ass against her pretty, delectable face, inviting her deeper. He had to admit: she was basically tongue fucking him, and it felt nothing short of awesome, just as his throbbing heart had reassured him. "Alice, I think I'm gonna come!" he groaned in a dreamy, hoarse voice. "Just don't break my nose, sweetie," she purred and forcefully shoved her tongue back in as far as she could, until it hurt her. This, together with her lewd words, made it for him. He instantly reached up to the peak from where he delved straight into the depths of something he thought he could call an orgasm. It was a bit milder than he had foreseen it to be, but surprisingly for him, it didn't just stop when it was induced, it spread across his body like a series of high ocean's waves, lower and calmer the wave the further from the sweetest spot where it felt like a major flood. He felt like floating and melting, both at the same time. Unbeknownst to him, his butt finally stopped on Alice's face, the girl giggling with her tongue still inside him. He groaned one last time when she removed her tongue with a quiet popping sound, and she helped him lie safely on his side and then grazed his body. He could say he felt satisfied in a way he had never felt before, and it didn't matter that he didn't come in a way he always thought was the only possible one. It was one hell of an eye opener, and his whole body served as a medium for the epiphany. "Thanks for not screaming," Alice uttered happily and took a fully deserved deep breath. "You were great, love." She kissed his butt cheek tenderly, and for a short moment, she massaged the pale flesh that gave her so much fun, smile drawn across her red face, red just as his ass was. She was gasping for air and laughing silly, two actions difficult to do at the same time, yet she did. It was a music to his ears. Alice looked at him from the front and instantly fell in love with the sight. He couldn't speak, he had only been breathing in and out exhaustingly, following her with his eyes as she'd walked to his front and ducked, facing him. His cheeks were burning red, just like hers. He was looking straight into her eyes and it felt like he was touching her heart directly, grazing it with his (a little rough) fingertips with great care. She grazed his cheek with her cool fingertips. "What have you done to me, you lovely weirdo?" he asked in a weak, playful voice. "I'm feeling weird, good, confused, spent... It was so hot, so..." He couldn't find the proper word to describe it. "So sick and dirty that it was good?" she finished for him in a still aroused voice, then bit her lips licentiously. "Yeah. Something like that." Max made a tremendous effort of bringing his body closer to hers. He smelled her breath gone terribly bad and noticed that her tongue had probably changed its shade to a tiny bit darker one if his mind weren't just messing with him. He found it quite arousing in a way. This lovely weirdo. He really wanted to kiss her, no, suck her unclean lips. She moved her face closer to his and blew some air on it, just like he did to her before. His face twisted in a slight grimace, but Alice didn't stop. She brushed her sensuous lips against his, starting to suck them hungrily. They kissed with tongue, sharing a lot of saliva and a mix of different, mostly bad tastes, but he had enjoyed it immensely. He couldn't say he hated it, that'd be a downright lie. Alice broke the kiss and walked to one of the cabinets to grab a bottle of water, wiggling her adorable, juicy butt cheeks in a playful manner, taking one small step at a time. Despite being slim in overall, she had this wonderful, naturally stuck-out ass that would make any piece of clothing look much more expensive. He wished he could rise the lower half of her uniform and stare, just to feed his eyes. She took in a few mouthfuls of water and sighed deeply, then returned to give him the remaining half to finish. She covered his boner with a towel and sat next to him, watching him drink in peace. She found it really cute in a way, it awoke in her some instinct every girl must've had. With only the towel wrapped around him, Max walked to the trash can by the door, crashed and tossed the bottle into it, and nonchalantly returned, sitting next to her. "Max, do you think we could date?" she suddenly asked in an innocent tone of a shy teenage schoolgirl, which he thought she faked somehow. "I'd really like to try." Or maybe she was really feeling this way now, just as if she fell in love for the first time? "Yeah, Alice, of course. I'd love to." He smiled wildly while grabbing her breast with his relatively not big hand. She reacted with a playful smirk and looked down in silence. The white and somewhat slippery material of her top didn't stop him from sensing the erect nub of her nipple. "Wonderful boobs, by the way." His not-so-subtle compliment made her blush, together with lowered head and a tiny pout, which he found a truly amusing sight, but also thought of it as a little strange. After all, she had licked off and swallowed his pre-cum earlier, then she had tongued (or more precisely, tongue fucked) his ass and even then she didn't appear shy. It appeared that she was slowly returning to her normal -- if a little shy -- state of mind. Max didn't mind, he instantly thought he liked them both, the angel and the demon, two in one beautiful package. "That's a great touch," she uttered quietly, holding his cupping hand with both of hers. After a bit more of his delicate fondling and mutual smiling, they silently agreed they should let her breast go. The girl quickly fixed the crumpled white fabric of her top and pecked him on the lips. "So, about dates... Max, do you have a free evening, possibly night? I'd love to show you my place." "Is your place so big we'd need a whole night for a tour?" They both laughed on instant. "That's a 'yes', isn't it?" Alice asked and saw him nodding with a little smirk. She continued, "Seven o'clock, in front... next to this parlor. Be there and I'll pick you up. Got that?" "Yeah, sounds great. I can't wait." "Me neither, stud." Max had not a slightest idea what had she planned for their first evening (and night!) together during this short, yet eventful visit in the beauty parlor; he was going to find out, obviously. He only knew that from now on, his heart would pound much harder each and every time he would see this building from the streets, and he loved the very thought of it. Memories seemed to be such a wonderful thing. Chapter 2 Alice went to the workplace's bathroom as soon as Max had left the parlor. The redheaded girl shut and locked the cabin door behind her and began pulling off her white skirt nervously; she started to sweat and breathe heavily when the skirt didn't want to cooperate. At the time, she looked like someone who was desperate to take a dump after taking too much laxatives. Had she been able to see herself now, she would burst out laughing. The girl finally hung the skirt on a metal hook fastened to a wooden partition wall and took a deep, calm breath. She exhaled loudly and instantly felt better. Alice looked down above her cleavage and at her crotch. The bulge in her dark khaki briefs was enormous and felt painful. Gently, she sneaked her thumbs under the hem on both sides of her panties and pulled them down, revealing a small, really cute bush of orange-red pubic hair of a slightly milder tone than the one on her head, and a second later she let her little 'secret' spring out. In fact, it wasn't so little anymore -- it was about 5" long, enough thick, with decent-sized balls, all hairless. The tip, now not so fully covered in foreskin, was a little pointy. Alice thought it resembled a spear and giggled soundlessly. However, Alice quickly realized it was neither the time nor the place to admire this strange gift of nature given to her upon her birth. She half smiled and half grimaced as she liked to see it grow so big, but also hated to deal with it in public. No one should know about her having a stiffy, otherwise it would cost her her social life, and maybe even her job. She already knew the solution to her current problem: as blunt as it sounded, she simply needed to jack off. The girl checked once again that the door was locked properly, a little scared that someone might see her 'secret' by mistake. She also had to raise the toilet seat, so that no one could see her sperm on it. Alice quietly oozed some spit on her palm and cautiously spread the fluid all over the tip of her rock hard penis while pulling down the foreskin with the other hand. She stroked it softly and uttered a quiet gasp -- a bit of pain, and of course, a bit of pleasure. Then she spread some more of her saliva to make stroking less painful. Thoughts of Max started crossing her mind. They were vivid and loud. Moans, words, smells, and tastes. Especially tastes and smells. She was really proud that she was thinking about him instead of any one of her past (female) lovers. Something new occurred to her; 'Max liked my tongue in there,' she thought, 'I clearly sensed it.' Alice really liked that thought and took it further. 'Max liked my tongue, so he might also like my cock.' She stroked herself faster, the only audible sounds being the cracking of her hand's joints, her shortening breath, and a quiet, fleshy sound. 'Max, I might just love you,' Alice spoke in her mind. In her imagination, he was sucking her off, taking the engorged tip deep into his mouth and giving her pure pleasure while looking straight up at her with his brown eyes. "Yes, sweetie, you're making me cum," she whispered with just her lips. "Oh, give me more. Oh fuck yes..." Her legs turned into sponge as she noisily took in air, her heart beating like a hammer, pressure building up in her balls. That was when Alice released her first volley. Thick, slightly grayish fluid spurted out from the top of her penis. The girl bit her tongue so she wouldn't scream out his name or simply groan out loud from the pleasure of release. Most of all, she felt great and very much alive, with her heart pounding heavily and happily. Shortly after the fourth volley burst out, her cock slowly started to become softer, remains of her seed leaking out and dripping into the toilet bowl below. To her surprise, she didn't make any real mess. She used a few leaves of toilet paper just in case and flushed the water, grinning to no one there, her dirty deeds going unnoticed forever. Alice was so proud of herself. She had always been afraid of public toilets, be it in a workplace, public park, and also at school (a few long years ago, she recalled), being unable to pee in unfathomable fear that someone would see despite walls all around and a door that she always, always double-checked. And now, after she fulfilled her primitive need in the restroom of her workplace, in spite of any possible rules, she felt like there was nothing she couldn't do. Her legs were no longer made of jelly, her breath was becoming more and more normal-paced. She took her time and let her body cleanse the remains of cum naturally, from the inside. A high pressure stream of water hit the white ceramic bowl with a proud noise, followed by a gasp full of relief. She got dressed quickly and made sure that she had really been alone the entire time. Relaxed, released, and happy, she returned to work, the next client waiting impatiently, and the bench already cleaned from sweat by a cleaning lady. The client was a she, a mature female, good-looking, probably a businesswoman. Alice didn't really care, feeling nothing except a slight physical attraction, and a gut feeling mixed with excitement that her 'lesbian days' were soon to be forgotten. Alice kept on glancing at her wristwatch impatiently every few minutes, blaming its metallic hands for not showing the 6 o'clock yet. * * * In the meanwhile, a pretty, young female was lying on her bed, watching the ceiling of her room through closed eyelids and -- most of all -- thinking. She was now deep in her mind, knee-deep in thoughts that shouldn't be there in the first place. The girl's name was Becky. She was a nice-looking 19-year-old with a curvy, feminine body. Max, her older brother, would surely use three simple yet powerful words to describe her: 'nasty', 'arrogant' and 'bitch'. If he could only see her (or read her mind) now, a sudden thought occurred to her, he would also add 'perverted' before 'bitch'. Or the new word would overshadow the two adjectives. Thick, black letters screaming 'perverted bitch', right there, smack dab in the middle of her fat butt cheek, in three rows. The thought scared her and aroused her at the same time. Engrossed by her half-conscious dream, she had found herself in some dim lit room. It wasn't looking any familiar, but she could easily tell it was someone else's bedroom. She was lying on a bed, her wrists tied together above her head and to the bed's headboard. She could feel the headboard's cold, metallic surface and rough wire with her wrists. Her back was on a bare mattress, constantly feeling an irritating, rough material under her back. There was something really wet and sticky in her crotch and right below it. She spread her legs a little and raised her head above her now fully naked, well-sized boobs just to see the stream of semen spilling freely from her wet pussy and onto the bare mattress. She had been used just a short while ago. Another fantasy to add to a weekly kink rooster. She quickly scanned her surroundings, looking for answers, some sign she would avoid or follow in the future. Casual panties were lying near the bed -- pink ones, classic cut, and they were definitely not hers. They belonged to some other girl. They had a small stain on their front, a grayish-white one -- a sperm, possibly. Some cream pie fetishist slut. Maybe she should buy pink panties like these on another occasion, just to fantasize a bit? For some reason, Becky felt like she was being entrapped in her dream, it becoming a nightmare of a kind. It wasn't anything she had seen, just her intuition. Something told her she couldn't wake up just now. Not yet. Something was about to happen. Something had to happen. "Max, get over here already!" she heard a voice, loud and familiar. It was a yell full of impatience. The voice was so damn near that it was downright creepy. The voice was aroused. "I'm soaking wet down there!" Could it've been that the voice belonged to herself? She didn't feel the movement of her lips at all. These weren't her thoughts, leave alone her words. But the voice sounded like hers. It seemed someone had hijacked her mind, blocking her senses, speaking for her, making decisions for her. She was but a spectator. Becky's hand (the real one) disappeared between her thighs. It'd just happened by an instinct. She really was "soaking wet" there in-between her legs, she realized just now. She started to massage herself, with middle finger slowly finding the way into her far-from-dry crevice that was just getting even wetter every couple of seconds. It didn't last long until she started to push two of her fingers deep in, her inner muscles contracting on them. "Having fun, Becky?" a creepy and cold feminine voice asked and she jumped frightened. "How's your nightmare?" The voice chuckled. Becky felt shivers from hot sperm still leaking out from between her pussy lips. A dream had never appeared so real to her, leave alone the wet kind. She wouldn't even believe how hard she started masturbating. "Mhmm, you already love that fluid. I can tell. Come hard and loud, like the nasty bitch you are..." It finally occurred to her: Max. Her voice in this dream called Max, she would've almost forgotten. She couldn't find any other Max than her brother in her memory, though, and this was the real 'nightmare' part of her dream. Did she had it with her big brother just earlier in this dream's twisted reality? The dream itself felt so real she had almost imagined herself being fucked by Max and fucking him back senseless, asking him to come inside her ("Cream pie fetishist slut, huh?"). She could almost feel his load -- hot, nearly burning -- inside her. 'The sweetest nightmare,' she thought and her body shivered. The shreds of her morality didn't give up, however. She tried to protest, "No, Max, I didn't mean that. I've changed my mind", but she heard no voice of hers, so she gave up eventually. Not that her swift hand even minded in the first place; it just kept on pumping fingers in and out of her soaking wet slit like a ruthless piece of machinery. She was only mumbling in shivers to the outer world, partially due to incoming release. It was of no use to resist whatsoever. This was just a strange dream. Just a dream. The T(h)rustful Voice Pt. 01 The voice laughed out loud. Becky thought it would be rolling on a floor from laughter if it only had one there to do so. "Who... what are you anyway?" Becky muttered with difficulty. "Your inner perv. You'll love me, girl." It appeared that the voice blew her a sweet kiss, at least she heard it. Becky didn't realize that she was just this close to the edge at the moment, her chest rising and lowering fast, according to her sex-crazed fingers' movements. "I'm coming, sis!" the other voice replied from behind the door, but it was blurry, barely comprehensible. She'd got it clearly, however. "Me too, bro..." she whimpered. The dream kept quickly fading away into the deepest black. It stayed there for what seemed to be just a short while, which wasn't exactly true. Then the image became slightly more blue and orange and she realized that it was her eyelids' skin that was blocking the view. She felt a little numb and her left hand's fingers were sticky. Did she come in a dream? * * * Max was more than happy not to see his (nasty, arrogant bitch) sister when he got home. He didn't want her to ruin his excellent mood. He put a big plate of spaghetti in the microwave, waited a couple of minutes and peacefully ate the food from his plate. As much as he hated to even see Becky recently, he had to admit that her cooking skills were superb; she clearly got the talent matching that of Mom's. After a short and tasty meal, he headed upstairs, took a shower and got changed. 'Fresh, black T-shirt and a pair of brand new jeans will do,' he said to himself. He kept on combing his hair until it started to look acceptable and glanced at his wristwatch. 'Damn it.' There was still an hour and a half left and he needed just one third of it to get where he needed to. 'So, what to do with a spare hour?' he asked himself. He tried to watch TV downstairs, but he simply couldn't. What Alice did to him left him all aroused and unable to focus on anything. Even a quick wank in the shower hadn't helped at the least. After wandering around the living room and kitchen for no apparent reason, he headed upstairs to his room again to check something on the Internet, but for some reason he stopped before the door to his (nasty, arrogant bitch's) sister's room. He couldn't tell why. He peeked in, silently opening the door in the process. Then he took a slow step inside, and another one. Becky looked so peaceful in her sleep, bathing in a mellow light of the mid-afternoon, creeping in through half-open metal shutters. But there was something totally not right about her -- she was half-naked. His casually annoying little sister was lying silently on her bed with her white panties halfway down the thighs. Her long, curly, hazelnut hair was lying freely above her head, shining like made of silk. With this detail mentioned, her image was mesmerizing, almost surreal. Max would've never thought that his annoying little sister could look so cute. And was the word 'cute' the exact word that he was looking for? Probably not. She smelled distinctively, of sweat, and of something else -- some very intimate and intense smell. Max knew what it was, it was fairly unmistakable. Becky's smell was delicious, he noticed with a cautious smile. The new old scent was enticing, it taunted him to come closer, to take a good look at where it was coming from; it was playing on the most primitive of his instincts. Morbid curiosity finally bent his will. Becky's legs were spread slightly, the thin material of her white panties stretched to its limits between her pale and somewhat thick thighs. Her knees were separated and raised into the air. One of her hands was between her legs, bent in the wrist, thumb touching her inner thigh. The other hand lay on her belly, covering her navel. His sister's chest was moving up and down slowly as she was breathing peacefully, her lips slightly spread. He could clearly see her large breasts beckoning him, even more enchanting due to an impressive cleavage of her orange sleeveless top, which was leaving not much for imagination when it was pulled down like now; he watched the drip of sweat wind and run down the front of her breast and sliding down its slope into the hollow between these big, pale mounds of flesh. His guts wrenched, wrung in and out from the very sight of it, not even mentioning how it affected his crotch. Her tummy, which grew a bit more round as a side effect of 'making boobs' a while ago, appeared even more arousing to him now. Was 'making boobs' how she really called it or did he made that up? Nevermind, her boobs were so big, so... sexy, so... (so grab one already, you dummy!). Max held his arms straight down, so that he wouldn't do something he would immediately regret (regret? you're kidding me!). It was really difficult to just stand and do nothing. Retreating was even harder now. His right hand reached in front of him, but he forced it back with the other one, truly a hilarious sight. He looked at her face instead, if only to check if she weren't staring at him in terror. With her beautiful, cold, stereotypically blue, ice-like eyes. For a second he really thought she was looking and he almost shit himself, but it was just his imagination, freaking him out yet again. She was still sleeping like a log, a faint smile on her partially opened lips. He suddenly felt a cold sweat on his back, his heart beating furiously. Max realized what she had done before she delved into unconsciousness. He wondered if she had done it while thinking of him. Such a thought seemed ridiculous, but still the first one in line; she probably did it while thinking about some muscular guy from school or another one met at a recent party. Some wicked part of him wished it was her big brother that she fantasized of. Max was now but a step from seeing the thing he shouldn't ever see. His little sister's 'flower'. 'My "dinky" and Becky's "flower",' Max thought, chuckling very, very quietly. They used to call them like that when they were somewhere around ten -- naming it any other way was forbidden back then. Their parents were very rigid when it came to their children's vocabulary. Now he realized how funny that was, especially considering that their little (nasty, arrogant bitch) daughter started to call him a 'smug pigfucker' recently. He suspected that the new insult was a bastard child of good old 'pigfucker' and some smart-ass dictionary. His younger sister would go postal if only she knew that Max thought it was kind of cute. He took a close look at his sister's (wet pussy) 'flower'. She was precisely shaved there, not a single spontaneous hair left. The skin there looked really smooth. The tip of her finger was still touching her outer labia and there was some thick liquid slowly dripping out from the inside. Its aroma was arousing to the extreme. 'Squash from a forbidden fruit,' he thought and smiled equally brainlessly, his cheeks burning visibly from embarrassment. He had a thought about touching her there, but it was immediately followed by multiple opposing thoughts. Becky's left hand moved slightly, the one finger pressed on her clit. The girl moaned very quietly. His jaw dropped at that. He could clearly tell his balls had just stirred with excitement and he realized how hard his erection had become. It was so (cute) evil, being aroused by (such a hot female) his own sister, (admiring) ogling her in her sleep. He felt just horrid. He felt like he was (about to fall in love) losing it, he needed to (check if she weren't untouched there) escape. As fast as he could. His mind was (helping) setting some ridiculous traps on him. What (wonderful) bad things would happen if it (helped!) caught him and made him to... fuck her! He'd rather not think about it. He was racing with a perverted voice inside his head and wished that this autonomic, loudmouthed entity would just shut up. 'Wishful thinking,' he thought to himself. It was as loud as it could get and spoke whenever it found it appealing, like some perverted witch; it was always one step ahead, whispering its wicked thoughts into his own. And that had been for months now. Max silently left the room, closing the door behind him, and quickly got back to his. His hands were shaking while he was in shock, to put it mildly, and so was his blood pump, beating loud as a hammer against an anvil and pumping furiously. His blood wasn't just running, it was racing! Breathing was more difficult than right after running a few lengths of a track. His head started to hurt like it was hit with a bludgeon. He had to hold it with his palms to not let it explode with a fountain of blood. "Oh, fuck me, not again! Just fuck me sideways!" he groaned hopelessly. "What the fuck is wrong with me?!" To kill some time, searched the Internet to look up the bus schedule as he planned earlier (and had almost visited his free porn site of choice by mistake, thanks to muscle memory). He stopped browsing to look at his wristwatch. There was still more than an hour to 7 p.m. and a whole half an hour to that damned bus. He felt trapped in space and time. The clock's hands seemed to slow down on purpose, just to irritate him. Watching them move was quite like experiencing the infamous Chinese water torture. He recalled watching a program about this and similar torture devices about a week earlier. Drip, drip, water dripping on his forehead, the most sensitive piece of skin, seconds turning into painful eons of awaiting for the pain of another, umpteenth drip. Now please, would you tell us why you're not kicking yourself enough for ogling your little, sleeping sister? Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just so happy about watching your sleeping sisters? What would Alice and Maddie think of you now? He realized this was the first moment he thought about Alice since he was taking a shower and admiring the work she had done so precisely. He felt incredibly guilty that he hadn't been awoken by the thought of Alice when it could have mattered the most, the woman he thought he was falling in love with so early that it felt very special to him and possibly to her as well. Now he was really pissed off at himself. He decided that he couldn't stay in the house any longer, not with the half-naked (irresistibly sexy) sister lying unconscious (still?) in the next room. If he were to wander around the neighborhood for no reason then let it be. Or maybe he should check on her again? 'Over my dead body,' he thought. All he was dreaming of now was Alice's calming touch, a powerful embrace to take away the pain. He stood up, impatiently waited for computer screen to fade out, and headed straight to the door. The door knob turned before he could reach it and his heart skipped a beat. It felt like it stopped beating for all eternity. Oh fucking-god-damnit, Becky was about to charge into his room, raging and furious, and tear him limb from limb for ogling her bare cleft. * * * Thankfully, it was Samantha, his other younger sister. She was smiling apologetically and looking at his hand which she had just hit with the door before neither of them could react. "Shit, I'm sorry!" Sammy was really cute, especially when she looked troubled. She grabbed his hand carefully to see if he were hurt. "Are you okay, Max? I should have peeked in..." "I'm okay, Sam," he replied, smiling softly. In fact, he almost didn't register the blow to begin with, still being in quite a shock after what he witnessed in his other younger sister's room. It wasn't the first time she had forgotten to peek in (and knock, for that matter) before entering; it was her ultimate little crime she committed all the time, but not on purpose, he was sure of that. It was one of those seemingly harmless bad habits that tended to cause small catastrophes every now and then. Sammy had had this questionable luck to see him naked at least three times in the past, and in both places where he had ever worn the birthday suit in their home: in his room while he was changing and in bathroom, when he was about to take a shower, and right after a shower. She had also happened to be the first girl ever to achieve it and the only one for a very, very long time. It was purely asexual back then; they were kids and all they were driven by back then, was curiosity. Samantha was Becky's non-identical twin. She was the 'good' one, Becky was the 'evil' one. As Sammy used to describe it: they "just used to share a womb", exactly like people who hate each other happen to share a workplace or visit the same restaurant. The girl had never understood her 'evil twin' and her need for fighting for everything and anything. According to Sam, the concept of sharing things was apparently too complex for Becky to grasp. Sammy didn't change too much since they were kids. She was still shorter than Max, being 5'5" tall, four inches shy of her big brother's. (Her analytical mind loved to store such details.) She had a very long, straight black hair, put in a single braid (in an Eastern European fashion), resting on her left shoulder. There were also these big, pretty, grayish-brown eyes of hers. She was also wearing glasses (but not thick ones), because of her naturally faulty sight. In other words, she looked like the older version of her younger self, just a lot more intelligent and absorbing -- and more attractive, he had to admit. She used to wear some very casual clothes, and jeans were much more obvious choice to her than a skirt. There were rare occasions when Sammy put on a beautiful dress, let her hair lie freely on the shoulders, and simply shined, other girls looking pale in comparison (even if it was Sammy that was actually pale -- it was one of their whole family's typical traits). Max liked to watch her like that when he had an occasion to do so, since she just looked so pretty in neat dresses, despite her claiming the exact opposite. "At least I didn't walk in to see you changing," she said. The brother and sister burst out laughing and fell into each other's arms, to the point it seemed a tiny bit romantic, but none of such thoughts had crossed his mind. They just enjoyed hugging each other immensely. Sammy always seemed a little fragile because of her slender silhouette, but that was just a deception. This girl hugged a lot like a bear -- just a smaller one -- and she didn't mind to be hugged back like that. Warmth of her body was soothing, and very much needed now, after what he experienced in Becky's room. He let her go after a short while, when he felt better. As usual, she continued to hug him for a few seconds after he released her. Samantha was such a lovely little sister. "You needed that hug, huh?" Sammy appeared a tiny bit concerned. "Yeah, for some reason." He shrugged and smiled in a simple way. "Oh, it's the visit, right?" She looked even more concerned (and cuter). "Did waxing hurt a lot?" She kept on looking like that on him, and he tried not to smile too wide. "It did hurt a bit, but I'm fine, Sammy." "By the way, Max, are you going on a date?" "Why asking?" "Maybe these new jeans, and your hair, combed like your life depended on it?" She was smirking, playing with his a little wavy hair. She used to do that a lot, for some reason. "Nothing gets past you," Max replied, drawing a surprised, genuinely friendly smile. "Seven p.m., in town. Her name's Alice -- middle twenties, redhead. Hot." "Okay, I get the point." She giggled. A quick and concise answer was the best answer when one spoke to her. Sammy was the kind of person that wanted to know as much details as she could, and if someone by any chance had flooded her mind with data, she felt happy and satisfied. 'She fully deserved her fix,' he thought, recalling her powerful hug. "I bet she works there, in that parlor." Max laughed in reply, flushing a little. She got him; Sammy's little smile broken into a wide, ear-to-ear grin. She was about to ask if it was her that hit on him, but she refrained from doing so. She wasn't Becky -- she knew when to stop, unlike her 'evil twin' sister. Sammy used to go to that beauty parlor from time to time (when lazy about shaving her legs), especially in spring and summer, and that was why she recommended it to her brother in the first place. She'd just had another possibility to use her wide knowledge to help her beloved big brother. He was more than a whole year older and appeared to be a lot more mature than her, but when it came down to fashion or health, he seemed lost like a small child in a dark forest maze. And she loved the role of his guiding light. She asked him if he were going to be back for bedtime, but she already knew his answer: "Don't count on it, sis." She felt happy for his brother to possibly find a good girlfriend, or at least to blow off some steam. He fully deserved it. At the very same time, she felt a sting of jealousy, as always. She knew exactly why that was, but she had never had enough guts to tell him, or even ask Maddie if she ever had that too. The little sister kissed him on a cheek and wished him good luck, hugging him briefly on her way out. Her back quickly disappeared behind the closing door as she headed straight to her room. Max left his room shortly after, grabbing wallet from his night table. He checked if he still had the condoms and smirked to himself. Then he grabbed his black leather jacket from downstairs closet and was good to go. He waved goodbye to Sammy who had just sat on the couch in the living room, and he headed out to a bus stop, just one-third of a mile away. * * * Becky woke up a few minutes later, feeling a little empty, but also happy for some reason. The girl felt like something was missing, taken away from her. She needed it bad, but didn't know what she was looking for exactly. "A fat, hard cock," a feminine voice spoke, and a giggle followed. "Uh, what the...?" Becky looked around and shook her head. She thought she had to be hearing things. The girl got up and realized she was nude from waist below, with her white panties inappropriately lowered halfway to her knees. She suddenly felt embarrassed, red color appearing on her naturally pale face. She should have covered herself with blanket, at the very least! If Max would have ever seen her like that, naked... (Thick, hot cum dripping from her wet pussy.) The image that flashed in her mind was so terribly suggestive that Becky felt sick on her stomach. She'd rather not think about it anymore, but it wasn't like she had a choice here -- the image had already imprinted itself deep in her memory. In a sudden realization, Becky set her lingerie right to look less shocking, then grabbed her robe and headed straight to the upstairs bathroom, about a dozen steps away. Chapter 3 "Becky was taking a shower," the female voice narrated. Becky's eyes rolled. Her inner voice was pissing her off. She thought that it was bad when it had been lying to her that she was dreaming of something she clearly wouldn't, ever, but now it was just outdoing itself. She was now fully aware this was the same voice that haunted her in her (fantasy) nightmare and that it was also somehow able to talk to her during the day. It was corrupting her mind slowly and insidiously. She was far from a prude, she would easily admit it, but this was going far too far even for her (not very chaste) taste. "She was still wondering why she felt so empty. While she was thinking and thinking again, her hand absent-mindedly reached between her thighs to..." "Shut up, Pervette!" Becky yelled, feeling like she was losing it. She was answering a voice in her head. Loudly. They were having an argument. How stupid could this look and sound like? Was it how patients of a madhouse were behaving on a regular basis?