Archive for incest

The Summer I Learned to Fly

That summer started out badly, with a pretty much total core meltdown. Our house was being foreclosed on; dad was under indictment (I still don’t know exactly what the crime was—some kind of financial chicanery that was shady and technical); and mom completely lost her shit and had to be hospitalized.

That would have left the three of us—Me, Tacoma, and Ryan—in the lurch in a pretty serious way. Except that Uncle John and Aunt Ellen stepped in and swept us away for the summer, all the way across the country to their immense and rambling old farmhouse in upstate New York.

It was a tough time for me. I’m sure it was hard for my older brother and sister too, but at the time I was too self-centered and wrapped up in my own problems to think about them. I was an awkward kid, introverted and perpetually self-conscious. I have Cerebral Palsy, which means my legs are twisted like pretzels and I need two canes and leg braces to walk; ugly metal braces that clunk with each step. To compound that, I was a late bloomer, compared to all the other girls in my class. I finally hit puberty, and it was like an F-16 switching on the afterburner. Paradoxically, that just made me feel like even more of an outsider. I got my period, fitfully and unpredictably, and I started growing breasts; small but sensitive speed bumps that made me feel like everyone was always staring at my chest. My sexuality suddenly made the quantum leap from occasionally having my G.I. Joes and Barbies play out unnatural acts together to furtive pornography-looking and actual masturbation. Lots and lots of actual masturbation.

I probably would have been miserable anyway, but at the time being yanked away from everything familiar was a kick in the gut.

On the other hand, I had just begun to experiment with my superpowers. Maybe it was a side effect of the CP and maybe not, but I discovered that if I sat very still and concentrated, I could go invisible. It took a fair amount of concentration, and if I stayed that way too long I got a headache, but it worked, and I clasped that knowledge close to me like a precious jewel.

I spent most of the flight from SeaTac to JFK in an aisle seat with my pants around my ankles, playing with my pussy, letting my fingers wander up, down, and sometimes inside my moist slit, idly toying with my clitoris and thinking dirty thoughts. Occasionally, depending on my level of excitement, my focus would lapse, and I’d flicker in and out of view, like interference on a TV set. This caused great consternation for the middle-aged businessman across the aisle. I think I may have given him whiplash: he’d catch a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye with my pants down, legs splayed into the aisle, shirt lifted up, tits hanging out, my hand busy between my legs; and by the time he’d swiveled his head around, I’d be invisible again.  He must have thought he was hallucinating, or seeing some erotic ghost.

By the time we landed in New York I had a pounding migraine and a very sore pussy. I could hardly walk, never mind the canes and braces. It was hot and humid, and JFK smelled like jet fuel and Porto-potty. I was exhausted.

Uncle John and Aunt Ellen met us just on the other side of security. They were old and fat and homely, a pair of life-sized garden gnomes, complete with little red noses. Uncle John swept us up, Aunt Ellen took control of our luggage, and we all piled into their extended-cab pickup truck. It was ridiculously cramped inside the truck. I was sandwiched uncomfortably in between Tacoma and Ryan. My clit was chaffed, and inside my pants, my panties were obnoxiously damp.

It was a two-hour drive upstate to our Aunt and Uncle’s place, and mercifully, I slept most of the way. When I woke up, it was dark, and we were there, and my leg had fallen asleep. Tacoma laughed at me as I struggled up the steps onto the porch. It was not a very auspicious start to the summer.

I slept hard in a strange bed, and felt better the next morning than I had in weeks, not since all the weirdness with our parents had started going down.

The next morning Uncle John made us a big fat pancake breakfast wearing—literally—nothing but a bathrobe, and Aunt Ellen smoked a doobie and invited us to explore the place. “You guys don’t have to worry about anything,” she said. “You’re family here.” Despite my uncle’s scandalously naked pale hairy thigh and the unaccustomed sickly-sweet reek of marijuana smoke, I had the feeling that it was all going to be OK.

The place was an old apple farm, long gone fallow. It was a sort of heaven for able-bodied kids to explore: there were acres and acres of rolling hills, studded with grassy meadows and bent and gnarled old trees; there were any number of old outbuildings in various states of falling down-ness and disrepair; there was a huge and stately old red barn with an alluring and deeply-dangerous looking hayloft. Ryan and Tacoma promptly disappeared, often all day long, coming home for dinner sunburned, sweaty, scraped-up, muddy, and full of glee.

Me, I kept mostly to the house, which was plenty interesting and challenging all by itself. The place was huge. I never counted rooms, but there must have been well over a dozen. There were three stories, plus an oppressively hot and dusty attic, and all the bedrooms were on the second and third floors. The stairs were tough, steep and winding and more than a little scary, but they were a challenge I was up for, not like the hundred-year old homemade ladder up to the hayloft. While my older brother and sister tore around the property and the surrounding countryside, I methodically explored the house, from the dank and musty basement to the hot and gabled attic. Including, not incidentally, my aunt and uncle’s bedrooms.

Aunt Ellen and Uncle John were not a conventional couple; we figured that out pretty much right away. Aside from the fact that they both smoked a lot of dope (they offered us some; Tacoma and I declined, but Ryan sometimes took them up on it); and the fact that they both had a habit of walking around half- or more than half-naked; aside from all that, they both had separate bedrooms, and from time to time there would be strange cars parked in the driveway at night, cars that would be gone by morning. I can’t have been the only one who noticed that.

They were both professors, and taught at the local community college. They both had summer classes, so they were usually gone for a large portion of the day, which facilitated my mission, because I wasn’t very good at moving quietly around the house.

Aunt Ellen had a huge—and I mean huge—collection of sex toys. It filled an entire drawer in her dresser, and ranged from small and discreet to enormous and frightening. Some of that stuff I didn’t have any clue what you were even supposed to do with. I figured she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed a small, lipstick-shaped vibrator. She would probably never even notice it was missing.

I found a treasure trove of pornography in Uncle John’s room: some VHS tapes and DVDs, but mainly books and magazines. And to my glee, they mainly featured guys. Naked, muscular, well-endowed young guys, erect and flaccid, posing alone or in groups, fucking and getting fucked. I had pretty much hit the jackpot.

Well, whacking off with a stolen vibrator to glossy pictures of teenage boys fucking each other was plenty hot for a summer afternoon or two, but the truth is it mostly just made me hungry for more. I hadn’t gone invisible much yet that summer; there hadn’t really been any reason to, but I decided it was high time I put my superpower to good use.

They rolled in well after midnight. We had all had dinner together (Uncle John always did the cooking), watched some PBS, and then gone to bed. I hadn’t heard them leave, but I did hear them come back. I sat up in bed when I heard the front door slam. I set my jaw, concentrating hard, and went invisible. As quietly as possible, I got up, put on my braces, and then slowly and agonizingly, one foot in front of the other, I traversed my bedroom floor, cracked the door, and peeked out into the hallway.

I was just in time for them to breeze past me. There were four of them: My aunt and uncle, and two girls I didn’t recognize. They reeked of alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana. They were trying to be quiet, but they weren’t succeeding very well. Staying invisible, I followed them up to the third floor, where Aunt Ellen and Uncle John had their bedrooms. Climbing the stairs was terrifying and painfully slow.

Once I was up the stairs, I maneuvered along the hallway as quietly as I could with my canes and braces. The door to Aunt Ellen’s bedroom was ajar. It was almost as if they wanted to get caught. (Maybe that’s exactly what they wanted. That hypothesis didn’t occur to me until much later.)

Secure in my invisibility, I took my time, stealthily creeping into the bedroom and standing by the wall. I probably needn’t have bothered. I doubt they would have noticed me if I’d been fully visible and wearing a Day-Glo safety vest.

The two girls were fairly pretty, a little older than my sister Tacoma. One girl had a mop of curly, chestnut-brown hair. She was a skinny thing, with small, bouncy breasts, not much bigger than my own. The other one was a little chunkier, almost Rubenesque. She was a redhead. They were both dwarfed by the bulk of my aunt and uncle. Uncle John was completely nude. He was splayed out in an easy chair by the bed, jerking off. He had salt-and-pepper pubes, and enormous hairy balls that jiggled and shifted as he masturbated.

Aunt Ellen was flat on her back on the bed. She was naked as well. She was fat, and she had truly immense breasts, and she had her face buried in the skinny girl’s hairless crotch. I could see the wetness, hear the squelching as she licked. The other girl was lying on her stomach, between Aunt Ellen’s monstrous thighs. She was still wearing her lilac panties, and she was busy licking my aunt’s pussy.

I stuck my hand inside my own pajamas, and ran my fingers up and down my slit. I was already sopping wet, and my clit was humming. I began to masturbate in earnest. It was difficult to whack off and stay invisible at the same time, and I may have flickered in and out a little, but like I said before, I don’t think it mattered. They certainly didn’t notice me. They had other things on their minds.

Aunt Ellen licked her fingers, and inserted two of them into the skinny brunette’s asshole. The girl grunted and grimaced, using her hands to spread her ass cheeks wider to give Aunt Ellen better access. Aunt Ellen craned her head, the veins in her neck sticking out, keeping her extended tongue on the girl’s juicy slit, while she finger-fucked her asshole. The girl who had been eating her out scrambled up, straddled her thick leg, and started dragging her pantied crotch back and forth along Aunt Ellen’s thigh. The two girls began kissing each other and playing with each other’s breasts.

Uncle John stood up (his back mostly to me, unfortunately), and started frantically jerking off. He made a sound like a tractor-trailer downshifting, and splattered his come all over the females on the bed. This seemed to set Aunt Ellen off, and she came, screeching like poorly-oiled machinery. I wondered why I’d never heard them before. The reason, I think, was the old house: thick plaster walls and timbers.

Aunt Ellen went to work on the two girl in a serious way, keeping her fingers crammed up inside the skinny one’s ass, she licked up the semen that had splashed across them; and then with both girls lying on their backs on the bed, she alternated licking their pussies, the skinny girls shaved and puffy vulva and lapping the bigger girl through the wet crotch of her panties. She licked and finger-fucked them until they both came.

That was just too much for me. I wanted to come like an overinflated balloon wants to pop. But one thing I couldn’t do was orgasm and stay invisible. It may be that they were too wrapped up in their own orgy to have even noticed me, but I wasn’t about to put that to the test. Pulling up my pajama bottoms (that had somehow crumbled down around my ankles), I gathered my canes and began the long, arduous journey back to my own bed, where I could finish the job properly. And that I did, masturbating until I was sore and silly.

I didn’t get another opportunity for a while, but when I did I jumped on it. I was in the kitchen one hot August afternoon, and looking back, I may have been invisible without realizing it. I had started doing that from time to time. Uncle John and Aunt Ellen walked through the room on their way out to the garden. Uncle John was wearing cut-off shorts that were cut off distressingly high and nothing else; Aunt Ellen was wearing a hideous floral summer dress that violated every known law of aesthetics and barely contained her huge breasts. As they passed, I heard Aunt Ellen say “…going to pick up your sweet little boy toy tonight…”

That was all I needed to hear.

I heard them leave this time. They were actually really quiet and discreet about it, tiptoeing out of the house after we had all gone to bed and not turning on their headlights until they had pulled out of the driveway, but I was listening for them, and I heard the front door click as it closed. I made my painfully slow way upstairs, let myself into Uncle John’s room, sat down on the easy chair, and settled down to wait.

As it happened, I barely had to wait at all.

They pulled into the driveway, and I hastily went invisible. I stood in a corner with my braces leaning up against the wall; the last thing I needed was for somebody to bump into me or accidentally sit on my lap.

The boy looked like a dark-hair Tintin with glasses. He was that cute! He looked like he was about my age, but I’m sure he was older than he appeared: my Aunt and Uncle may have been perverts, but I don’t think they were pedophiles; and he had a big Soviet sickle-and-hammer emblem tattooed across his hairless chest.

The scene this time was much slower and more languid than before. They all three got naked (Tintin had a nice, big, delicious-looking dick that was already hard and waggled as he moved), and smoked something sweet and sickly out of a funky glass pipe that made me a little light-headed. The three of them kissed a lot, sharing the smoke, which smelled like marijuana only more so, and touched each other. Tintin’s penis never flagged; Uncle John and Aunt Ellen seemed to make a point of not touching it, which only seemed to make it harder and more eagerly erect. Uncle John produced a big syringe full of yellow liquid; I hate needles and I flinched as I watched, but I couldn’t make myself look away. First he injected about half the syringe into his own arm, and then he changed needles and gave Tintin a shot in the inner thigh.

The boy looked disoriented, and Uncle John grinned and tweaked both his nipples, hard. Then Aunt Ellen fetched a vibrator that looked more like an industrial kitchen utensil than a sex toy, plugged it in, and turned down the lights. She sprawled out on the bed next to the guys, with the huge white vibrator humming between her thighs. Uncle John lay on his back, and Tintin lay on top of him, in a 69.

I had an absolutely gorgeous view of Uncle John with his head between Tintin’s thighs, licking and kissing and nibbling on that beautiful engorged cock. Every now and then he would divert himself by playing with the boy’s wrinkled ball sac or asshole, but mostly he just slurped at his cock like it was a particularly tasty gobstopper. I wished I could see what Tintin was doing to him, but all I could see was his unruly dark hair bobbing up and down between Uncle John’s thighs. I didn’t want to move around much to get a better view; I was afraid of getting caught.

They went at it for ages! I watched two hours tick by on the clock while they suckled each other and Aunt Ellen lazily masturbated next to them. My pussy was drenched: my juices were literally running down my thighs, and my clit hurt. Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, Tintin squealed and came, squirting what I swear looked like several gallons of semen all over Uncle John’s red, chubby face.

Aunt Ellen laughed out loud. Uncle John, viscous white come still streaming down his cheeks, lips, nose, and forehead in sticky little rivulets, squirmed out from under young Tintin, got up on his knees, and vigorously jerked off into the boy’s open mouth.

Uncle John stood up, his fat balls swinging halfway down to his knees, went to the bathroom and washed his face and pissed, all with the door wide open. Aunt Ellen watched Tintin get dressed (I discovered that I adore watching a cute naked guy get dressed), got dressed herself, and took the rather dazed-looking fellow down to the truck. Presumably she gave him a ride home. Uncle John, meanwhile, went to bed.

It was torture getting out of that bedroom. Uncle John snored. The floorboards wanted to squeak under me. My cunt ached. Aunt Ellen had closed the door tight behind her. It took me half a century to gingerly tiptoe out into the hallway. Once I was finally safe, I couldn’t even wait to make it back to my own bedroom. I sat down at the top of the stairwell, spread my legs, and rubbed out a massive orgasm right there. I don’t know if I had ever come so powerfully before. It was the kind of orgasm that seemed to go on and on, like the perfect wave, curling my toes and making my nipples tingle. It made me wish I had a video camera so I could make a recording of myself coming, just so I could whack off to it again later on. Anyone who says girls don’t get off on visual imagery is insane in my book.

I didn’t spend all my time that summer indoors. Sometimes we went to the park, and we all went swimming a couple times, which was fun, and I did a little exploring of my own around the yard. It was just hard because of my mobility.

One night, when it was too hot and humid to sleep, I watched (invisible and from a safe distance) as Uncle John and Aunt Ellen strung a boy up from a twisted and gnarled old apple tree. They stripped him naked, bound his wrists, and hoisted him up until his feet kicked wildly a few inches above the grass. I don’t think it was the same boy as before; this one seemed a little fatter, and I didn’t see the communist sickle and hammer tattoo on his chest. Aunt Ellen and Uncle John took turns sucking his dick and whipping his backside with a willow branch. He howled like a coyote!

Finally, Aunt Ellen cut him down with a scary-looking rigger’s knife. He collapsed, and Uncle John pissed all over his face while Aunt Ellen cackled with laughter, jagged and uproarious. Then they watched while he jerked off, and I felt compelled to join him, curled up in the tall grass, one finger jammed up my asshole while I strummed my clit underneath ten thousand bright and merciless stars.

One hot and sultry day toward the end of August, they took me to the country fair. Ryan and Tacoma declined to go, so it was just the three of us. I had never been to anything like it, and I had a blast! It was a redneck freak show, a raucous anarchy of the senses. We ate sickly-sweet cotton candy and rode the Ferris wheel, and my whole body clenched with the thrill of it. I’ve never been comfortable with heights, and the construction seemed rickety at best. I thought there was a good chance I might die up there, but I didn’t.

The whole time, I felt like Uncle John and Aunt Ellen were on the verge of propositioning me, asking me to join them for some crazy kinky sex. The prospect set me on edge, twisted my stomach, made my pussy salivate and my clit swell and throb, and made me all jumpy and nervous. But there was no innuendo, neither one of them said anything in the least bit inappropriate or suggestive, and when they dropped me off at the farm late that afternoon (they both had faculty meetings at the college to attend, the new semester was getting ready to begin), I couldn’t decide if I was more disappointed or relieved.

On impulse, as their pickup truck pulled out of the driveway, I made my slow and jerky way out to the barn. I had the place to myself; Tacoma and Ryan were out and about. I didn’t have anything particular in mind other than some exploring, and possibly some out-of-doors masturbation. I had slipped my little ‘borrowed’ vibrator into my pants pocket that morning just in case I felt like having a little ‘quiet moment’, and now I thought might be the perfect time to indulge myself, in the quiet musty shade of the old barn.

I slipped in through the enormous barn door that didn’t close all the way, into the cavernous dark and shadowy interior.

As soon as I realized I wasn’t alone, I went invisible.

She was down on all fours on the dusty wooden floor, and he was behind her. They were fucking.

It was my sister Tacoma and my brother Ryan. I could hear them grunting, breathing hard. I could hear his cock squish-squelching in and out of her pussy. She was naked; he was wearing sandals and a white t-shirt.

Tacoma had bigger boobs than I had ever really realized. They hung down like a pair of fat, ripe cantaloupes. I watched, transfixed, as they fucked. My cunt was squishy and wet. I remember thinking ‘They should really be using a condom.’

Ryan pulled his dick out of Tacoma, and she mewed like a kitten. He had a nice-looking cock, not too big, with a well-defined head and a pronounced upward curve. His penis was shiny with Tacoma’s juices, and the crown was bright red and eager. They stood up and kissed, not like a brother and sister kiss, not at all.

Ryan put his hands above his head, Superman-style, and jumped. He did it casually, with no apparent effort. He jumped higher than should have been possible for anyone except maybe an Olympic high-jumper or an NBA star. He caught a rafter with both hands, and hung there, swinging slightly, his crotch right at Tacoma’s face level. I felt a powerful rush of jealousy as I watched, fingering my pussy; not just jealousy for the sex they were having, but jealousy for their able bodies and their agility.

While Ryan dangled from the beam, Tacoma popped the crown of his penis into her mouth, and clasped her hands together as if she was praying. Ryan kicked his legs as she ran her hands quickly up and down the shaft of his cock.

“I’m coming!” he wailed out. Tacoma let his cock pop out of her mouth, but her hands never stopped moving. His stomach tensed, and he squirted pearly-white come all over her tits. I wished I had breasts like that.

When he was all done, he dropped to the floor with a thunk. They kissed a little more, and he rubbed his semen like lotion all over Tacoma’s breasts. Then he pulled on his pants, and left.

She tossed her hair and stared searchingly all around the empty barn, making me flinch.

“I know you’re in here!”

I froze, hand crammed guiltily inside my panties. I concentrated as hard as I could on staying invisible, and tried not to breathe.

“You think you’re so sly, you invisible little skank! If you ever tell anyone—anyone—I’ll fucking kill you. You slimy little cunt, I swear to God, I’ll fucking murder you.” She bundled up her clothes, and stalked out of the barn.

A couple of miserable days went by. I avoided Tacoma as much as possible, and didn’t go invisible at all. Finally, when I couldn’t stand it any more, I pulled her aside and apologized.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I shouldn’t have watched. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t use your powers to spy on people,” Tacoma said. “It’s really lame.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I won’t do it again.”

“It’s OK,” Tacoma said, squeezing my hand. “Tell me though, did we look hot together?”

“You two looked really hot together.”

Tacoma smiled. “Good. Come out to the barn with me, I want to show you something.”

We walked together out to the barn. She was patient with my snail’s pace, which just made me feel all the more frustrated for being slow.

Once inside, she pointed to the rickety old ladder that led up to the hay loft. “Climb it,” she said. “Go ahead, don’t be scared. I’ll help.”

Climbing that horrible old ladder was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my life. Tacoma helped me though, guiding my legs and holding my feet and talking soothingly to me the whole time. It felt like it took hours, but we finally made it up into the loft. I was covered in sweat, and I felt like puking.

Tacoma wasn’t even out of breath. She stepped lightly over to the edge. Just watching her do that made me dizzy. “Stop it,” I said. “Come back!”

“Watch this,” Tacoma said, and she stepped casually off the edge of the hayloft, out into space.

I started to scream, but instead of plunging the twenty feet down to the floor and shattering her femur or breaking her back, Tacoma just hovered there, like a graceful, long-legged dragonfly.

“I can fly,” she said with a secret little smile. “You can too. Go ahead, try it!”

I shuffled hesitantly closer to the edge. Tacoma took my hand in hers. I swallowed hard, mouth dry as dust, and stepped out into the abyss.


Comments (10)

Tuesday Night Soliloquy

10:35 pm

Tiny concentric circles: an infinitesimally reducing radius, a satellite spiraling downward in a slowly decaying orbit, circling just above the surface of the red-hot, pulsating star; coming close, skimming near, but never quite touching. Jessica squirmed around on top of the sheets, glancing over at the computer monitor across her bedroom on her desk. She flexed and arched her back, and paused momentarily to lick her fingers. She tasted sexy, a little salty, a little sweet, a little bit spicy. She loved the taste of her own come. She made a soft little mewing noise, and let her fingertip resume it’s circling.

Masturbation was perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of. How many times had she heard that? Jessica didn’t believe a word of it. At least not the way she did it. What she was doing was abnormal and sick, perverted. But it felt so good she wasn’t about to stop, no way. It wasn’t so much what she was doing; that was harmless, anyone could see that. It was what she was thinking about that was so wrong.

She was drenched. Her juice felt like a lava flow, oozing out of her cunt, a Mauna Loa in miniature. Her finger was coated with warm slickness, gliding on it’s slow, tormenting path around her clit. Her pussy was swollen, spread wide open. Her clit felt like it was the size of a lima bean. It throbbed with every heartbeat, like an over-inflated balloon, distended, enormous and ready to burst.

There was a video clip playing out on the computer screen: two cute girls, a little older than Jessica herself, college-age maybe, were locked in an acrobatic-looking 69, folded over a purple easy chair, vigorously licking each other’s pussy. The girl on the bottom had long, brunette hair that cascaded down off the chair and was piled in a tangled heap on the floor. Her legs kicked as the shorter, blonde girl with the page-boy hair and cut and tatoos licked her pussy. Jessica had seen the video before, many times before, and she knew every move, as if it were a classic ballet. She was idly watching the girls on the screen, but they weren’t what she was thinking about as she slowly circled her clit. Slowly, gently, slower now; she was dangling right on the edge, and the tiniest little bit of extra stimulation would push her straight over the tipping point into a massive orgasm.

The brown-haired girl on the bottom half of the sandwich groped around under the chair, and came up with a small, white, plastic vibrator. A deft twist of the base, and it started humming, the irritating mechanical noise amplified by the microphone on the video camera that was filming them. This was the hottest part. The girl pried the blonde chick’s petite butt cheeks apart, fully exposing her most private bits. She playfully licked between the blonde girl’s cheeks, eliciting a yelp.

Jessica’s nipples were puffy and straining, the skin on her chest mottled pink and red. She slipped one hand back down between her own ass cheeks, her finger exploring, sliding, petting. Everything was sopping wet down there, slick with come and sweat. She was still watching the video, but the scene that was playing out inside her head was even hotter, and far filthier. Her finger found her anus and carefully probed up inside. Oh fuck yess…

On the screen, the long haired girl was insistently working the vibrator up the blonde girl’s butt. The spiky-haired blonde girl was thrashing around, struggling and bucking as the brown-haired girl fucked her ass deeper and deeper, working the little vibrator like a potato masher. She imagined her father’s hard cock, his fat, rigid, urgent erection invading her just like that. She shoved the finger in her own butthole deeper, as deep as she could stand it. Finally, she let herself touch her swollen clit. She arched her back, raising her ass up off the bed, working her clitoris like a pencil eraser. Her eyes squeezed shut and her entire body clenched as she came… Oh YES, oh Daddy, fuck my ass hard, harder!



Frank lay in the darkness next to his sleeping wife, his erection flapping up against his stomach. His wife snored slightly, rasping quietly as she slept. Frank slowly traced one finger up along the length of his shaft, starting where his cock met his crinkled ball sac, up along the big puffy vein, and across the underside of the naked purple crown until he touched the little pink hole at the end, already leaking clear sticky juice. Then he started the long traverse back down again. He was silently torturing himself, and the sensation was exquisite.

What was it like to be in a sexless marriage? If anyone had asked, Frank would have said it was a lot like a regular marriage, only not as much fun. He and Sheila used to have a good sex life, back when they first got together. Relatively vanilla, but steamy hot and energetic and plentiful. Then the kids had come along, first Jessica, and then Brian; they’d fallen out of the habit of having sex, and never fallen back in.

Sheila, his wife, still had a pretty nice body. She ran, she did yoga. Sometimes they talked about having sex again, but they never seemed to find the time. Frank’s pajamas were shoved down around his thighs. He wondered what she’d say if she woke up and realized he was jerking off in bed. Would she be shocked? Disgusted? Angry? Would she take the opportunity to join in, grasping his dick in her own hand for the first time in… he wasn’t even sure how long now.

Keeping silent, keeping absolutely still, that was half the thrill of it. It had been a solid week, maybe more since he had last masturbated, and his balls were heavy, ready to burst. He had been walking around all day with half an erection, just waiting. His fingertip traced an invisible line up his cock and back down again, barely brushing the sensitive flesh. Sticky pre-come was seeping out of his swollen crown, wetting the hair on his tummy. He curled his toes and bit his lower lip hard, savoring the delicious agony of delayed gratification.

Mrs. Cramer. Brian’s high school algebra teacher. The ‘Mrs’ meant nothing, he knew that for a fact; she was divorced. Her first name was Brenda. How old? Thirty-something. Probably in her early thirties. He let his fingertip caress his scrotum, tracing little circles around each painfully eager testicle, before resuming the slow, steady path up and down his engorged, straining cock.

She was short and curvy, with a mop of thick brown hair, reddish undertones, pulled carelessly back and held in place with a scrunchy. Large breasts were concealed under floppy, oversized sweaters. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing a paisley skirt that ended just above her ankles, and showed off her wide, soft, succulent rear end. Oh, how he lusted after that rear end! He’d tried not to stare; he didn’t know if he’d been successful.

He wondered if she had a boyfriend. He wondered if she was seeing anyone. He wondered what she’d do if he were to make a pass at her. Then he wondered what he’d do if she were actually receptive to being hit on. Long ago, in the sex-drenched early days of their relationship, he and Sheila had been lounging around in the golden post-sex glow of a warm bed, and they’d idly talked about threesomes. She hadn’t been opposed to the idea at the time. Theoretically. It was hard to imagine now. He wondered what it would be like to hug Mrs. Cramer from behind, to cup her large breasts in his hands, to press his erection against her big, soft, round bottom, to smell her hair and feel her warmth, to kiss her, and to press up against her, and to feel her press urgently back against him.

His cock twitched involuntarily. He wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. It was exquisite torture.

Frank increased his tempo almost imperceptibly, his finger tracing it’s lazy way up his cock and then back down again. If he moved much more than this, the bed would squeak. The muscles in his ass clenched and unclenched in frustration. His cock strained. There was wetness, sticky wetness all over his tummy. Carefully, silently, he peeled back the top sheet; he didn’t want to cause any embarrassing stains.

He imagined Mrs. Cramer asking him to come in and meet with her about his son’s class work. He imagined a coy, tentative flirtation, dancing around their mutual attraction. He imagined kissing her, fondling her breasts, feeling her nipples stiffen through her thick sweater. He imagined lifting her up onto her cluttered desk, her skirt riding up, her legs parting for him. He pictured her thighs, soft and pale and shapely. He wondered what sort of underwear she’d have on: would it be something secret and lacy and sexy, or would she be wearing plain white cotton panties? He could smell her excitement, maybe even see her wetness soaking through the thin material.

Sheila had never really been into being eaten out. She said it was nice, but only as a warm-up for the main event. If Frank ever got her close to orgasm with his tongue, she would push him away and beg him to put his cock inside her so she could come that way. Just once, he wished she’d just come all over his face.

He would peel back Mrs. Cramer’s panties, drag the tip of his tongue up and down her slit, her fat, puffy lips parting for him, her wetness leaking out, coating his tongue, her slick juices all over his face. He’d find her tiny pink clit, tease it, stimulate it, avoid it, slurping up and down her pussy, inserting a finger or two, return to the focus of her pleasure, flick at it with his tongue, listen to the sounds she made, hear her breathing change, feel her thighs squeezing his head, her hands digging into his hair.

Then she’d change positions. She’d turn over, so she was bent over her desk, her rump thrust up and out, her skirt piled up around her waist. He’d kneel behind her, and part the two soft white pillows of her ass, methodically exploring the valley between.

This was the one place that Sheila had always steadfastly refused to let him go.

Brenda’s anus would be small, impossibly small, tender and pink and puckered, like a flower not yet quite in bloom. He’d run his tongue around the little hole, avoiding it for as long as he could stand to, drinking in her sexy, earthy aromas, tasting the musk of her ass. Her breath would be coming in shudders now, she’d be begging him ‘Please, please, please…” He’d press the tip of his tongue against her opening. He’d feel her asshole relax a little, and he’d work his tongue further up inside. He’d reach around to finger her clit, but her fingers would be there already, busily stimulating herself. He’d slide his fingers up her sopping wet pussy, licking her asshole with abandon, straining to get his tongue all the way up her butt as she pressed back against him, grinding her ass into his face, begging for more, more, more…

His balls twitched, his cock jumped, and he spurted a stream of sticky white semen that splashed halfway up his chest. More and more pumped out, he was covered in the stuff. He was breathing hard, and his dick was still twitching, leaking come that threatened to run down his side and onto the bed sheets. He spread it around with his fingers, already cooling in the night air. Sheila shifted in her sleep. As always, he felt guilty now, dirty and embarrassed, like an awkward teen. He’d have to clean up before he went to sleep. He groped toward the side table for a tissue.

10:45 pm

There was a stack of papers on Brenda Cramer’s coffee table. 8th grade algebra homework that had to be graded by morning. She was about halfway through the pile, a red pen in one hand, a glass of cheap Malbec in the other. God, she loathed grading.

Brenda sipped her wine, and picked up the next paper. Troy Grabowski. God, what an obnoxious little smarty-pants! What kind of an eighth-grader wears button-down shirts and ties to school on a daily basis? He was that kid who always knew the answer first, who’s hair was always impeccably combed, the little prick who everyone knew would go on to a fancy school and would have a stellar career. He’d probably end up working for NASA or something.

She marked one of his answers wrong, just for spite. That seven sort of looked like a one. She’d swear his dad did his homework for him, except he aced all his tests too. Obnoxious little shit. He’d probably be a virgin till he was twenty-five.

Now that was an interesting thought. She needed a break from all this grading anyway. Boys that age always had hard-ons. Especially (she smirked a little) if they were forbidden to masturbate.

Brenda kept a pocket-rocket handy, in nifty little jewelry box on top of the DVD player. She glugged a big swallow of her wine and unbuttoned her jeans. She wouldn’t even bother taking her pants all the way off; this wouldn’t take very long.

With a click, the toy started humming, a happy, purposeful little buzz, like a honey bee hard at work. She shuffled her jeans and panties down around her mid-thighs. Her pussy was already damp with anticipation.

She snapped her fingers, and Troy came running; running as best he could, more of a painful-looking shuffle. He’d been grading math homework over at his desk in the corner, and he was wearing a rumpled white button-down shirt and a striped tie, but nothing else. His young cock was hard as bone, but pointed straight down at the floor; it was lashed round and round with a leather thong, and securely leashed to a ten-pound weight, an old cast-iron doorstop, that he dragged along the floor behind him.

He stood nervously at attention in front of the red leather couch where Brenda lounged, a contented, well-fed, pampered pussycat. She reached out and pulled the dangling tail end of the thong through its quick-release loop, and the binding fell away. Troy’s dick sprang straight up like a jack-in-the-box, and he gasped involuntarily.

“Very nice,” Brenda sniggered, “I think you’ve grown since last time.”

He did have a pretty big dick for a boy his age, and it looked painfully hard. It was swollen, quivering, and eager; she could still see the impression of the bindings along his shaft. The kid was practically begging for release; but he knew better than that. He still had livid red stripes across his skinny white from the last time he’d forgotten his place and spoken out of turn.

“I think you’ve got some work to do,” Brenda spread her legs, and lay back on the couch, hands folded behind her head, and Troy automatically got down between her thighs and started licking. The boy was a good student, a quick learner. He knew that if he spent too much time on her pussy he’d earn a vicious yank on his hair; he knew that if he concentrated too much attention directly on her clit he’d earn a stinging slap to the side of his face. He carefully trod a middle road, licking up and down her vulva, occasionally sliding a finger up her wet hole, teasing her, letting his tongue dance agilely around her bulging hard, sensitive clitoris.

He’d look cute, Brenda thought, doing that with a big, fat plug in his butt; the kind that has some kind of cord hanging out the end that she could reach over and tug on at opportune moments. Maybe someday she’d get him one, and make him wear it at school all day under his slacks and tighty-whities. It would be fun to watch him squirm in class. She’d call on him and no-one else that day. Make him get up and do problems on the blackboard.

She’d definitely be buying Troy a butt plug, a big, wide, black one, with bulges and knobs and a real horse-hair tail. But first she wanted to fuck him with a strap-on. She had a dildo and harness on mail-order from California. Anal sex doesn’t have to hurt at all, not even the first time, if done properly; Brenda wanted to make sure that his first time hurt like a motherfucker.

In the scene that was playing out in her imagination, Brenda roughly shoved Troy away, and languidly rolled over onto her side on the blood-red couch, presenting the soft, pale expanse of her posterior to him. He knew what she wanted. He might not like it, but he’d do it anyway; she’d pierced his nipples herself, and they were wonderfully sensitive.

She sighed and purred with delight as his tongue explored up and down her backside, darting into the crease between her cheeks before dancing back out again, up and down, back and forth. Delicious, but she felt like cutting straight to the chase this time. She reached back and spread her butt cheeks for him, an unspoken order that he knew better than to disobey.

His tongue found her sensitive little rosebud and licked all around it before darting into her crinkled little anus, just the way she’d taught him. The sensation was exquisite. His tongue seemed to be exploring meters deep into her asshole. She wished she could see him as he rimmed her, his cock rigid as a totem pole, balls tight and exposed, loosely knotted tie hanging down like a dog’s leash.

Fuck this. In the real world, on her ratty beige couch, Brenda kicked and wiggled out of her jeans, her panties rolled up inside them, an intractable tangle. She needed to be penetrated, to be filled up. She something inside her, right now, and her bag of toys was all the way upstairs.

The half-empty wine bottle was the closest convenient object. Fortunately it was a screw top. She screwed the lid back on and slid the neck of the bottle straight up her hungry, drooling cunt. It felt good. For a second, she imagined doing this in front of her algebra class, sprawled out across her desk in front of thirty impressionable young teenagers. There mouths would gape open and their eyes would stare, wide with horror or fascination. Some of their daddies probably wouldn’t mind taking that spectacle in. Maybe some of the mommies too.

Back in the land of make-believe, Brenda had finally gotten tired of Troy’s oral attentions. She way lying on her back on the black leather couch, and Troy was kneeling between her thick, snowy-white thighs. He was breathing hard, and his pink face was liberally coated with her come.

He was rubbing his penis slowly up and down the folds of her vulva, in between her fat, juicy lips, bumping up against her swollen clitoris in the most delightful way imaginable. His expression was one of extreme concentration: a tightrope walker, an air traffic controller, a chess master locked in a complex endgame. His dick arched up and out from his crotch, his large, vulnerable balls hung down, just begging to be squeezed. He had a soft nest of curly brown pubic hair. The head of his dick was a livid shade of red, and oozed pre-come.

“Do you want to fuck me, Little Boy?” Brenda cooed, “Do you want to put it inside me? Do you want to know what my pussy feels like on your dick? It’s really hot and wet in there, and oh, it’s so tight. How bad do you want to put it in? Would you do anything for me? Anything at all? Do you want to come inside me, come in my pussy?”

Troy stopped suddenly, paralyzed, his mouth hanging comically open, his eyes wide with terror. His jutting cock bobbed and wobbled with a mind of it’s own, and with a little moan, he shot off, squirting gob after sticky gob, like an extruding machine gone mad, all over Brenda’s soaking wet pussy.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” she told him sweetly. “You can think about how I’m going to punish you while you finish grading papers. The longer you take, the worse it will be for you. And you can be sure, however bad you think your punishment is going to be, what I do to you will be even worse. First though, you’ve made quite a mess here. I suggest you clean it up.”

Mortified and abashed and eager to please, Troy got right down to the work of licking up his sticky white semen from Brenda’s sodden crotch. It had gone everywhere, from the crease of her ass all the way up to her deep bellybutton, and everywhere in between. Troy lapped up every last drop. And it felt fantastic.

The wine bottle slipped out of Brenda’s exhausted pussy, and Brenda heaved a low sigh of content and switched off her vibrator. There was still a stack of homework papers to grade, but they’d wait until morning. She unscrewed the cap, and poured herself another glass. She stuck out her tongue, and licked the neck of the bottle, slick with her own juices. It tasted tangy, a little salty, a nice contrast to the harsh bitter-sweetness of the wine. Somebody should market that.

10:47 pm

Troy’s parents thought he was doing his homework on the computer. Half an hour earlier, they would have been right. “What a smart kid,” they gloated to each other, “Such a hard worker. Such a nice boy!”

Math had always come easy to Troy. It was logical, it made sense, it worked forward and backward, and it stayed the same every time. Unlike other subjects. Particularly girls. Troy was certain, done to his absolute core, that he’d never have a girlfriend.

He was still wearing his button-down shirt from school, but nothing else. He didn’t like the way he looked without a shirt on. He had an ugly white scar running from just above his navel, up his sternum, and almost all the way to his neck, a souvenir  from an open-heart surgery he’d had as an infant. He thought his chest looked ugly, hollow and atrophied. He always wore a shirt and tie to school: he was undeniably different, strange, alien; so why not flaunt it?

His dick glistened with lube, excruciatingly purchased from an older female cashier at the same drug store where his mother bought her migraine medicine. ‘Enjoy it,’ she’d said to him as she slipped it into a small plastic bag and handed over the counter. She’d smiled, and he wanted to die. But the humiliation was worth it: jacking off with a good, slippery lubricant all over your dick was light-years of difference from doing it dry.

He could see what the girl saw, in a small window in the bottom right corner of his screen, and when he looked, he winced. But those were her rules. You had to be actively jerking off, and on camera, or she wouldn’t let you watch.

She was achingly familiar. He knew her, he was sure of that; probably from school. He’d only glimpsed her face a few times, she was pretty careful about that. She was beautiful, he thought; not skinny by any means, but certainly not fat, with raven-black hair that matched the hair between her legs, and round breasts like tangerines that jiggled delightfully as she moved. He literally couldn’t imagine her touching him; that was too much, pure science fiction; but he focused on her body as he stroked himself, mimicking her tempo and her rhythm.

She was sitting on a quilt on her bed, her back leaning against the poster-covered wall, her head just outside the frame. Two fingers spread her pussy lips apart, and one finger of the other hand was strumming away at what Troy knew must be her clitoris. He could see the wetness between her legs, and her breasts jiggled as she rubbed herself.

He poured fresh lube onto his dick. The bottle was already half empty. Soon, he’d have to face the ordeal of buying more. He wondered if the same clerk would be working. He wondered if she’d say anything this time. He wondered if he could meet her eye, return her (what was it: disgusted? condescending? amused?) smile. In a strange, perverse way, he was almost looking forward to it. The cool lube felt delicious on his hot, straining penis. It wouldn’t be long now.

Without warning, the girl switched positions. He caught her face for a split second. He knew her, he was sure of it. Who was she? Now she was on all fours on the bed, her rump waggling in front of the camera, much closer up now. He could see every detail of her pussy, the petite lips, the stray hairs, an occasional glimpse of her asshole. Her breasts hung down, swaying like pendulums. He could see just how wet she was.

She had grabbed a hairbrush from somewhere, and with an audible sigh, she slipped the handle straight up her pussy, which devoured the plastic object hungrily. Her finger was still grinding away at her clit, as if she were playing a tiny banjo between her legs. She moaned and cooed as she fucked herself.

It was too much for Troy. He squeezed his dick hard, pumping up and down with white knuckles, churning the lube into a froth, and he exploded, silently as always. A stream of come shot out of the purple head of his dick, landing in spattered drops on his white shirt, congealing in gobs in his pubic hair. He kept massaging his dick, squeezing every drop out, prolonging the orgasm for all pleasure he could, drawing it out. After a while his screen went dark, as it always did after he’d come, but he kept at it. His dick was small and soft and could be squeezed between thumb and forefinger, but it still felt nice. He had to clean up. He’d gotten sticky lube on the mouse and keyboard, and if he didn’t wipe up soon, he’d stain his shirt, and he didn’t know what his mom would say to that. Best not to find out.  He hit the shirt with stain remover and buried it in the laundry. His dick was still leaking a little, dribbling wetness onto his naked thigh. He kind of liked the taste.

It was only after he’d carefully scrubbed off the keyboard and mouse with baby wipes, cleaned himself off, removed every last trace of lube and semen, that he realized he’d been crying.


There were at least a dozen penises on Angela’s computer screen; a dozen boys or men, from California to the Ukraine, jerking off to her. For her. A solid two meters of dick, each one tall and hard and focused on her and her alone. She slid the hairbrush in and out of her wet pussy, moaning seductively. It didn’t do that much for her, per se, but it drove the guys crazy, and that most definitely turned her crank. Her clit throbbed. If she wasn’t careful, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and she’d come, right on camera.

Angela been on a date earlier, a ‘study date’, with little Jeremy Larkin. It had started off all proper and above-the-board; algebra homework and pb&j’s cut into quarters and brought up to the bedroom by her fussy, protective, and utterly clueless mother, but after the homework was done and the sandwiches were eaten, it had inevitably degenerated into a make-out session. He had squeezed her breasts through her bra, and slipped two fingers up her undeniably wet pussy. She’d had to fake an orgasm to get him to stop.

She had sucked him off after that. She could still taste him in her mouth, a lingering, cloying flavor. The stuff kind of reminded her of tapioca pudding. She knew that a lot of girls hated the taste of it, couldn’t stand it, wouldn’t allow a drop of semen in their mouths, or anywhere near. She didn’t understand that. If boy’s ejaculate wasn’t exactly delicious, it was pretty nifty, and sort of the whole point of the endeavor. Without a mouthful of come at the end, the entire act would seem hollow and incomplete.

She rolled over again, careful to keep her face out of view of the camera. She extracted the hairbrush, sticky and slimy with her come, and set it on the quilt next to her. A few of her boys had shot off already, and she clicked their windows shut. She felt good, really good, high on the sex, riding the razor blade. It wouldn’t be long now. This was better than any drug!

It wasn’t the attention, not exactly. Anyway, it wasn’t just the attention. There was definitely something about the adoration, about having a dozen or more hard cocks pointed straight at her, jerking off to her naked body, that definitely did it for her. But it was more than that. Much more. It was the feeling of power. An erect penis was so needy, so helpless, so dependant on her. It was a rush, a high, an incredible aphrodisiac. It was like being a goddess, and it got her off every time. Angela was addicted.

She stretched and licked her sticky, tangy fingers, and glanced over at the computer monitor. As she watched, one of her guys, an earnest-looking fellow in his twenties or so with glasses and nice muscles, slipped past the point of no return. His face was twisted in an expression of mixed ecstasy and agony as he clenched his body and rapidly jerked his cock, his balls clenched like a fist, coming with a silent shout, squirting a gooey white arc of come toward his webcam. It’s so cool, the way a guy’s orgasm is such a tangible spectacle; no faking it there! Angela loved it when a guy came for her, it was a huge rush, and watching it made her pussy drool and her clit twitch uncontrollably. She reached over and clicked off her camera. Show’s over boys. They could jerk off to her all they wanted, but they would never ever get to see her come.

Dicks were a very fine thing as an appetizer. It was fun manipulating them, and it was really hot being the focus, the sole object of a guy’s fawning adoration, and it was really neat, the visual spectacle of a hard cock shooting off just for you. But they never got much past the surface, they didn’t really hold her interest.

There was no shortage of lesbian porn on the internet, but it didn’t do a thing for her. For the most part, it left her bone-dry. It always looked staged and fake, as chilly as refrigerated coleslaw and about as sexy.

Meredith was this girl who sat next to her in Economics class, and she was the focus of Angela’s latest crush. Cosmo magazine would have called her fat, but Angela loved her body: it was all soft, sensuous angelic curves. She was really quiet, and really really smart, and wore glasses, and had a beautiful tangled mass of curly brown hair. Angela’s finger brushed back and forth across her over-excited clit, sending herself irrevocably over the edge.

How do you hit on a girl? Guys were easy, almost too easy. She and Meredith had barely ever spoken. She knew of girls at school who had done it, or were rumored to have done it, but they were always the ones you’d expect to go lesbo, the bad eggs, the rockers, the party girls. She wasn’t one of them, not when the webcam was turned off, and Meredith certainly wasn’t one either.

Her orgasm came on slow and deep and intense, like a creaky old wooden rollercoaster, rattling up peaks and screaming down valleys, and cranking jerkily around corners, threatening to give her whiplash. She kept her finger lightly on her pulsing clit, prolonging the pleasure, dragging it out.

She imagined going out on a date with Meredith. They wouldn’t call it a date, they’d come up with some excuse, but they’d both know why they were there. They’d hang out, they’d talk, they’d shyly touch each other, in ways that girls can get away with and guys can’t, and slowly, slowly, the sexual tension would build between them until it was unbearable.

She’d drive Meredith home, and they’d say their goodbyes in the driveway, they’d both say they’d had a lot of fun, and they should hang out again sometime soon, and they’d linger, and then that first kiss… and then they’d make out in the car, the steering wheel awkwardly in the way, fogging up the windows, kissing and touching and caressing, getting hotter and hotter and more and more turned on, until they remembered where they were, and broke it off, grinning and slightly abashed, and Meredith would kiss her one last time and then get out of the car and run up her parent’s driveway with a flutter of her fingers, leaving Meredith in sticky wet panties.

Maybe Meredith would invite her over sometime, a study date. They’d go up to her bedroom, and Meredith would hold one finger to her lips, indicating silence. She’d gesture for Angela to undress, and she would, while Meredith watched approvingly. Downstairs, Meredith’s parents would be watching the TV.

She imagined kneeling under Meredith’s desk as she did her homework, hidden under the voluminous folds of Meredith’s dress like a Bedouin tent. Meredith would ignore her, pretend she wasn’t even there, but she knew, and she wasn’t wearing anything under her dress. Angela would nuzzle up into her pussy, the soft, curly hair down there, inhaling her intoxicating aroma. She’d lick her pouting, pretty pussy, up and down, tasting her, teasing her, slowly making her more and more excited until her lips opened up like a rose and her clit poked straight out, and she had to put down her pencil and reach down under her dress and grab the back of Angela’s head and pull her closer, rubbing her hot, wet pussy all over Angela’s face. She’d come with a cute little hiccupping cry, squeezing Angela between her thighs until she was afraid she’d never breath again, then relax and push her gently away, and it would start all over again.

Maybe Meredith would make her lick her asshole. Maybe she’d urinate into her mouth. Maybe she’d be on her period. Angela wouldn’t mind.

Angela held herself perfectly still through the last few twists and turns of her orgasm. Her pussy was sodden, her clit was too tender to be touched. She had made a little wet spot of her own on the bed, but she didn’t mind. She switched off the light and drifted off to sleep.


Meredith had just put fresh AAs in her electric toothbrush. She’d almost gotten busted that way before.  Her mom had commented snarkily about how many batteries that thing was going through. From then on, she’d made sure to buy her own, and to replace them often.

She was naked on top of her bed. The handle of her toothbrush protruded from between her thighs like a sci-fi parody of a cock. Every time she squeezed her legs together, the rotating head pressed against her clit, and a wave of pleasure sloshed through her entire body. There a magazine spread open on the sheets next to her. Penthouse, April 1982. Before she was even conceived. She’d found a bunch of these magazines in a cardboard box in the basement, under a long-forgotten badminton set. She didn’t like internet porn; it all seemed crude and fake and gross, like artfully posed cadavers or perverse Barbie dolls. The old magazines were different, somehow more palatable. They seemed almost innocent by comparison.

Two girls frolicked in a softly-lit sylvan woodland. They started out dressed in vaguely medieval garb, but quickly shed their clothes. They never actually touched, but as they cavorted through the woods, the fell into more and more suggestive poses together.

They had enormous breasts, the size and shape of cantaloupes, and they both wore shiny pink lip gloss, and their hair was big and heavily hairsprayed, and their pussies were covered with soft, fluffy muffs.

Meredith flipped through the stiff, glossy pages, looking at the pictures and periodically squeezing her legs, stimulating herself with the buzzing toothbrush, but her mind was in a much darker place.

It was a well-used fantasy, many times replayed, edited, refined, recast. Tonight it was Reg Hodgson, but it didn’t have to be him. She’d already played out this scenario with half the guys at school, and all her male teachers.

Reg was in her biology class, and he was on the football team. She could easily imagine being a little scared of him.

He wasn’t a star, but he was on the varsity team. He was arrogant and flip, not especially smart, but not really a stupid jock either. Meredith thought he was dating one of the popular girls. He was big, but more long and lean than bulky. He had never spoken to her.

She closed her eyes and imagined.

She is walking home, and he is following her. It is already getting dark. Reg is a block and a half behind her, but there’s something menacing about the way he walks. She increases her pace, moving her legs a little faster. The streets are silent and empty and the night is coming on like the rising tide. Every time she looks behind, he has drawn a little closer.

She decides to cut through the park, an eerie moonscape in the twilight, trees casting long shadows like grasping hands. When she glances back, he is right there, barely an arms length behind.

He trips her up, pushes her hard between the shoulder blades, and she goes sprawling in the fallen leaves and the muddy grass. Her dress is already ruined.

He is standing in front of her. From this perspective, he towers above her. He grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her up to her knees. He slaps her across the face, hard. Again, and again, and again, until she is spitting blood, and her jaw rings like an alarm clock with every blow. At last he stops. She kneels stupidly in front of him, her face red and swollen, lips busted, smeared with blood. He unzips his pants.

The irony, of course, is that under other circumstances she’d happily have sucked his cock. It is a nice-looking specimen, not too big or too small, circumcised, with a mushroom-shaped, bulbous head.

He jams his penis into her bruised and bloodied mouth, fucking her face, laughing out loud when she chokes and gags. He manhandles her breasts, pulling and squeezing cruelly at them like udders, enjoying causing her pain.

He yanks his cock out of her mouth. She gasps desperately at the night air, trying to fill  her burning lungs, like a drowning girl breaking the surface. She sees an amused gleam in his serious brown eyes, daring her to scream.

She is shoved roughly down into the mouldy leaves. He lifts her dress, pulls her panties aside, roughly fingers her cunt. Laughs contemptuously when he discovers that she is already soaking wet.

Reg fucks her like he is chopping wood. She grinds her nails in the dirt, holding her breath, wincing and moaning quietly at every thrust of his wicked, sadistic cock. Just before he finishes inside her, he rudely jams his thumb up her asshole, and then she does scream. Afterward, he makes her clean off his still hard dick with her mouth.

On the bed, Meredith trembled through her final orgasm. She pulls the humming toothbrush hurriedly away from her sodden crotch, her clit suddenly too sensitive to be touched. She can taste the dirt and blood in her mouth, feel his malignant sperm in her cunt. In her mind, Reg laughs coldly down at her. “See you in class tomorrow,” he says, leaving her in her misery. She felt dirty and hollow inside as she stashed the old magazine under her bed and turned out the light. She shouldn’t go there, it wasn’t right to think these thoughts. But she knew she’d be back.


Reg stood in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the back of his bedroom door. His erect penis stuck straight out from his crotch, exactly perpendicular to his long, lean body. He admired the view in the mirror. He looked fucking hot. One hand cupped his ball sac, tightly clasping his testicles. Three fingers of his other hand were crammed up his butt.

He had a pretty big penis, he thought. At least it looked damn good in the mirror. He wished it was a little bigger, but he wasn’t complaining. It was red-hot and swollen and juicy right now; if he so much as touched it he would explode. He grunted softly and worked his lube-slick fingers deeper up his butt. His wrist was threatening to cramp, but he wasn’t about to stop, no way!

Reg had a girlfriend, Sara Blest, and though she wasn’t ready, she said, to do actual sex, she could (as the guys on the team liked to say) suck a golf ball through a garden hose. She was an attractive girl, beautiful even, and she was pretty good at it. The thing was though, he was bored.

The image in the mirror mesmerized him. Better than porn. He was pretty cut, pretty buff. He’d heard some guys on the swim team shaved it all off, everything. Maybe he’d give that a try. He squeezed his swollen balls and dug in with the fingers lodged in his anus, sending ripples of pleasure up and down his body, making him rock up onto the balls of his feet. His cock strained out. If the football thing didn’t work out, maybe he’d be a male model.

He worked the fingers in his asshole in and out, deeper and deeper. It’s not like he was gay or anything, it just felt so damn good! Maybe if Sara did that once in a while, he’d be more into her; but so far she had been oblivious to the hints he’d dropped. She hadn’t wanted to make a video either, even though he promised he wouldn’t show anyone. Maybe he’d set up a video camera and not tell her.

His frustrated cock was thrusting against the air, the head was red and angry looking. It wouldn’t be long now.

He pictured straddling Felice, a frumpy little girl in his biology class. He’d be naked, she’d be fully clothed. Why Felice? He was pretty sure she was a virgin, certain she’d be impressed. She was a mousy little thing, short and stout. She rarely spoke up in class, and when she did, she had a tendency to squeak.

Reg imagined pulling her shirt open, unclasping he big white bra, sliding his cock between the twin pillows of her tits while she craned her neck to watch, a grateful expression on her face. He imagined slapping her across the face with his erection, until she was begging him to let her suck it, and then he imagined generously jamming it into her open mouth, fucking her mouth like a cunt while she gurgled and gargled appreciatively, shoving it in until his balls were pressed against her chin, and her little brown eyes were bulging out of her head.

When he was ready, he’d whip his cock out of her gaping mouth, and squirt all over her face. She’d eagerly lap it up, and ask for more. And maybe he’d give it to her. And maybe not.

Fuck, that was hot! He squeezed his balls hard, so hard it hurt, and jammed and curled the fingers in his asshole. That image was all he needed; plain, mousey Felice covered in his come and begging for more. He shot off like a can of pressurized Cool-Whip.

It was a good, long come. It almost always was if he could refrain from touching his dick. The intensity of it made him light-headed, his asshole clenching violently on his fingers, his dick jumping and bobbing, spattering white globs of come onto the mirror. Finally, regretfully, Reg pulled his fingers out of his protesting butthole, and milked the last few drops of semen out of his softening cock.

He got down on his knees and licked the salty, slimy come off the smooth, cool surface of the mirror. No sense in letting it go to waste. God, if Coach could see him now! He kind of wished he’d made a video of this one, so he could watch it again later. Just thinking about it made his dick start to tingle all over again.


In the bunk bed above her, Felice’s sister Hannah was snoring. Her snores were long and drawn out, ragged and moist. They reminded Felice of an asthmatic horse.

Felice couldn’t sleep. She was restless anyway, and the snores were the last straw. She stretched and glared up at the bed springs above her, willing Hannah to roll over. Hannah did not cooperate.

With a sigh, Felice slid a hand down inside her pajama bottoms. She was already moist down there. It felt nice. She rolled over onto her stomach and moved her hand back and forth, up and down, brushing up against that special secret spot.

She was picturing Brian, this boy in her English class. He seemed nice, kind of quiet, kind of smart. She wondered what he looked like naked.

She squeezed her thighs together, and jammed her fingers hard against her wetness. Her hand was moving rapidly now, in spastic little jerks, making the bed squeak. If Hannah woke up, she would totally hear what she was doing, but Felice didn’t care. She imagined Brian doing things to her. Nasty things. She wasn’t sure just what, but that didn’t matter. She would do it all, and beg for more.

The pressure inside her burst like a piñata, and she gasped softly into her pillow, hardly daring to move. Finally, when the last waves of pleasurable sensation had receded, she pulled her hand out from between her legs and sniffed her fingers. She always liked the way she smelled after doing it. Above her, Hannah’s snoring had finally ceased. She pulled up her pajama bottoms and rolled over. Soon, she was fast asleep.


The sheets and blankets and pillows lay in a heap on his bedroom floor. Brian lay face-down and naked on his bare mattress, a pillow wedged under his chest.  There was a spot there on the mattress worn thin and soft as chamois. His erect penis humped against that worn patch, thrusting desperately. His hands clasped the edges of his mattress like a life raft, knuckles white, fingers curled and clenched.

His older sister Jessica was asleep in the next room, just beyond his bedroom wall. He imagined sneaking into her room, closing the door behind himself, climbing into her bed, lying down on top of her.

She would stir in her sleep, and he would whisper in her ear “Jess, it’s ok”, and she would mumble something unintelligible in reply. He would rub his erection against the soft material of her pajama bottoms, and she would press sleepily back. His cock would slip into the cleft between her firm, soft buttocks, his hands would find hers, and their fingers would intertwine.

Gently, he would pull her pajamas down. She would be naked underneath. “No, you’re my brother.” “It’s ok,” he would whisper in her ear. Her pussy would be wet. He could smell her excitement. He would guide his cock, rubbing it up and down her slit, kissing her hair and the back of her neck. “No, it’s not right,” she would say. He could feel the wetness of her pussy, hot and slick, on the engorged head of his cock. Her long auburn hair tumbled down over her pale shoulder blades. His cock would be poised, nestled at the very entrance to her pussy. His hands would be inside her pajama tops, cupping her breasts, impossibly soft and warm. Her nipples would be stiff against his palms.

“Please,” she’d whisper, and he’d penetrate her, gently, inexorably sliding his penis up her tight, slippery vagina. “Please,” she’d whisper again, more urgently this time.

Brian was humping furiously against his mattress now, fucking a phantom, abandoning himself to the fantasy. He felt himself start to come.

Jessica would be humping back against him now, his penis sliding all the way in and out. She’d make little animal noises as they fucked. Her ass would be naked in front of him, pale and firm and flawless. “Fuck me, Little Brother, fuck me harder!” The bed was squeaking as he humped, and a far-away part of his mind wondered if Jessica could hear it from where she lay.

He came, squirting semen all over the mattress below him. He collapsed, breathing hard, onto the sticky puddle, and lay there a while, panting. The mattress would be stained brown; eventually he would wear all the way through the already thin material. He got up, his chest covered in his own wetness, and quickly wiped up, then guiltily started to re-make the bed. He was a pervert for even thinking these things. He was a sick little fuck, and he knew it.


Comments (3)


Fit the First: The Landing

Carroll rang my phone right at 7:00. Alice, my girlfriend at the time, gave me a look and raised one eyebrow. I guess she hadn’t thought Carroll would actually show. Well, she had thought wrong. Carroll always keeps her appointments. I buzzed her in, and we waited, jittery with tension, as she climbed the six flights to our tiny little apartment.

Alice and I had been dating for nearly eighteen months at the time, a personal record for me, and we’d been cohabitating for a year. It hadn’t been going so great lately. I was starting to feel a little stagnant, a little claustrophobic. Worse yet, Alice was showing signs of getting bored. And then I got the crush.

I told her about Carroll right away; I’m not the kind of guy who’s able to hold stuff like that back. Alice thought it was cute. Alice was the one who suggested inviting her over.

Carroll was a freelancer, a tech, a hired gun. We met at work, and right away we had this very intense instant chemistry. It was like there was an electrical charge passing between us, an electromagnetic attraction. She had milk-chocolate skin, short tidy dreads, and full, plump lips. Her figure was largely hidden under the baggy grey jumpsuit that she always wore to work. She was strong as hell, with ropey muscles that twisted and bulged in her forearms as she worked

She did her thing, troubleshooting an errant control cabinet, while I watched and supervised. It was hot up there on the catwalk, and we were both perspiring freely. I stood a little closer to her than strictly necessary. When I handed her a tool, our hands touched, and I felt a spark that made my dick jump and swell in my pants.

We bantered as she worked, dancing around and eventually gravitating toward the subject of sex, a rapidly decaying orbit of declining decorum. She told me a story about a friend of hers in college who had once shoved a whole avocado up her twat, walked around all day with it inside her, and then made guacamole for her roommates. My dick felt heavy and thick. I bet she had a really nice body inside that baggy jumpsuit.

When I got home and told Alice that I thought this girl at work was interested in me, she grinned. “What did she have to do, flash you her tits? She must have been hitting on you pretty hard!” It’s true, I’m usually really clueless that way. Back when Alice and I first got together, she had to force me to take her phone number.

The next day, elbows-deep in a box full of crossed wires and circuitry, I asked Carroll if she’d like to come over and hang out after work. She came up from inside the tangle of wiring, gave me a look.

“Up was wired to down and down up,” she said, screwdriver dangling idly from one hand, “I thought you had a girlfriend?”

“I do,” I said, “She’ll be there too.”

I told her to be there at seven. I told her to call my cell when she got to the front door; the intercom was broken. I told her I was looking forward to seeing her outside of work, and she grinned.

Fixing the damn cabinet took us the rest of the day.

Carroll knocked, and I opened to door for her. I wouldn’t have recognized her if I’d seen her on the street; but then again I wouldn’t have been looking at her face.

She was wearing white short-shorts that stopped just shy of her crotch, and showed off her long, thick, brown legs. Her midriff was bare, her navel exposed, and she had on a floral halter top that was for all intents and purposes transparent. It was clear that she had nothing on underneath it; her nipples stuck out like a pair of thumbs. Her breasts were a lot bigger than I would have thought, and appeared to be self-supporting.

Carroll smiled, somewhere between sheepish and sardonic. “Can I come in?” she asked. The question was clearly directed to Alice, standing behind my left shoulder.

“Of course,” Alice said, “Come on in.”

The door shut behind her, and there we three were, cheek to cheek to cheek. My apartment is small, too small for two people really. It is just one room, with a barely separate bathroom and a tiny kitchen squeezed in. With three people inside, it was like a crowded elevator. I had an erection that was probably visibly from space. Carroll’s boob kept brushing up against my arm.

The girls sized each other up like a pair of cats.

“Do you guys want to go out?” Alice asked, “Or just stay in?”

“Oh, stay in,” Carroll said, “Definitely stay in.”

We drank a lot of wine that night. Carroll produced some high-quality pot, and we all got stoned. I hadn’t been stoned in years. We all ended up on the bed together; there was really nowhere else to be.

It was really late, and I was dizzy and yawning, and my eyes kept drifting shut. I for one had to work in the morning.

“I wanna watch you two fuck.” Carroll declared. That woke me right up.

“Ok,” Alice said, “No problemo.” She was already pulling her shirt off over her head.

My dick, which had started off the night edgily swollen and twitchy, had slowly lapsed into a flaccid state of dormancy as it got later and I got more and more sleepy. Suddenly I was hard again, ragingly, eagerly hard, my erection making a highly visibly lump in the front of my pants.

Any misgivings I may have had about getting naked in front of Carroll were effectively swept aside as Alice tossed her bra aside, and barely suppressing a fit of giggles, went to work on fishing my cock out of my pants.

What proceeded was kind of an awkward dance, like a hobbled game of Twister. We didn’t usually undress each other; usually we showered and got naked and got into bed before getting it on; plus we were both a little drunk and high. The end result found Alice naked, and me nude from the waist down, the pair of us kneeling chest-to-chest on the center of my bed, kissing hard and groping shamelessly.

Carroll migrated to the top of my dresser, sweeping aside a stack of folded towels, sitting cross-legged, enjoying the view, perched up there like a Cheshire Cat, grinning hungrily.

Alice’s not-so-small boobs were pressed against the sweat-damp material of my t-shirt, and her hand was wrapped around the almost painfully hard shaft of my cock.

“This is SO hot!” she whispered in my ear, before traversing her way down my body, grabbing my butt with both hands, and swallowing me whole.

It was hot. Both of us were more turned on than we had been in months and months. Alice’s head bobbed up and down on my dick. Her mouth felt amazing. I couldn’t think of the last time she’d given me a blowjob. I reached around her rump, feeling her up; her pussy was slick and sticky wet.

Carroll had discarded her top. Her boobs were big and round, like a pair of cantaloupes. The areolae were huge and brown, and her nipples stuck out excitedly. There was a thick white scar that ran down the left breast, just missing the areola, and traced its meandering way along her sternum. As I watched, Carroll unfolded her legs and slid her short shorts down, gathering them up around her knees. She was wearing black mesh underwear, and I could see her fat, puffy slit through the sheer material. She slipped her hand down the front of her panties and leaned back against the wall, pinching one large nipple with her free hand.

I was humping back against Alice, fucking her face, my balls swinging lewdly. At last she popped up, panting like she’d just ran a foot race, her eyes wide and sparkling.

“Fuck me,” she said, “Fuck me now. Do it to me, do it hard and fast!”

We reconfigured ourselves so that we were facing Carroll, with Alice on all fours and me behind her. That wasn’t a position we used very often, but it gave us both a great view of what Carroll was doing perched atop the dresser.

We hadn’t used condoms since early on in the dating phase of our relationship. I slid my cock straight up Alice’s pussy. She was shockingly hot, and wetter than I’d ever felt her. Her pussy was hungry for my cock, she seemed to grasp and milk me.

“Fuck me!” she hissed, “Fuck me hard!”

I complied. We fucked hard and we fucked loud. The harder I thrust into Alice, the harder she thrust back, and the more noise she made. Carroll’s fingers were busy inside her panties as we screwed in front of her. Alice’s breasts were swinging, her ass was jiggling, and her head was thrown back as she groaned and whined in unintelligible ecstasy. It felt like heaven: wet, hot, slippery bliss.

It didn’t take long. I was overexcited, and I wasn’t holding anything back. The more noise Alice made, the harder I fucked her, and the harder I fucked, the more noise she made. My balls clenched up, my toes curled, my spine went rigid, and with a shout I buried myself in her juicy pussy one last time, smashing my crotch against her ass, and I came, shooting what felt like buckets and buckets of come into her pussy.

Alice came at almost the same instant, her hand between her thighs, squeezing my dick, rubbing me up and down her sopping pussy, her head upturned, eyes glued on Carroll.

We watched together as Carroll finally got off in a protracted, gasping series of jerks, tits shaking, back arched, fingers buried in her pussy. It was beautiful; when it was over I felt like applauding.

Alice and I cuddled as Carroll got dressed and left. It wasn’t awkward at all, which was both surprising and nice. After she was gone, we turned out the lights and breathed each others air for a little while. It was very, very late, and we both had to work the next day, but her fingers made my dick hard again, and my hand found her pussy still wet, and we managed to bring each other to one last sleepy orgasm apiece before drifting off.

Fit the Second: The Hunting

My phone rang at 7:00 exactly. Not 6:59 or 7:01. The girl was prompt if nothing else. She kept her appointments.

Alice giggled and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. She was wearing a terrycloth bathrobe with nothing on underneath. I buzzed the door to let Carroll up.

It seemed to take her forever to climb the six flights up to the apartment. My dick was already getting hard, and Alice helped things along by squeezing and rubbing it through my trousers. The sex we’d had the previous week, with Carroll jerking off to us from on high, was the best, we’d both agreed afterward, the best we’d had since we first got together, maybe the best ever. We were both eager for more.

Carroll was wearing tight a little red pleated skirt with white hearts that ended just above her knees, and a black sports bra that squished her big boobs and showed off a long deep valley of cleavage. She was smiling big, two sharp rows of perfect teeth, and she kissed us both as she hopped across the threshold.

“Anybody hungry?” she asked, lifting up her skirt and flashing us a momentary glimpse of her bare plump, brown, shaved pussy, “I baked tarts!”

The tarts were delicious, but eating them at the little round table in the corner of what served as my kitchen, I kept getting distracted, sandwiched in between two attractive, giggling, nearly naked girls who kept using every flimsy, snorking excuse to reach over and touch me and each other under the table.

By the time the tin of tarts was reduced to crumbs, we were all three pretty hopped up, hot and bothered. Alice let her bathrobe fall in a heap on the kitchen floor. Carroll clambered up to her aerie atop the dresser, her red-and-white skirt bundled up around her waist, and snapped her sports bra off like an oversized rubber band.

She caught me staring at the nasty white scar that ran across her otherwise flawless mocha bust. “Welding slag down the front of my bib,” she explained with a careless toss of her dreads, “Hurt like a cunt.”

Alice undressed me, taking her time, kissing each section of bare skin she exposed unit I stood naked in front of her, quiveringly hard, my dick standing out like exclamation point.

“You should go down on her,” Carroll pronounced, “I want to see you lick that pussy.”

Alice lay down across the bed, spreading her legs wide apart, her neatly-trimmed petite little pussy pointed directly at Carroll. The inner lips were just visible, pouting out like a young tulip not quite yet in bloom.

I’ve always been a little shy about going down on Alice. It’s not like I mind the taste (I actually rather like the way she tastes), but I’ve always felt kind of incompetent at it.  Alice always said I do a good job down there, but I’ve never been sure she’s really into it, and I had never made her come that way.

I lay down on the bed on my stomach, put my head between her thighs, and started licking.

She pulled her lips apart for me, giving my tongue access to her moist, slippery bits. I found her taste intoxicating. I licked harder, getting into it, slurping up and down, like a dog at a water bowl.

“Slow down!” Carroll commanded from on high, “Lick her clit! Tease her a little bit!”

I pulled back, spreading Alice’s wet pussy with my fingers. It was almost the first time I had ever gotten a really good close-up look at her sex. Her pussy was beautiful, and sopping wet. Her tiny clit stood up excitedly, hard and pink. I tentatively touched it with just the tip of my tongue, and Alice gasped.

I let my tongue dance lightly around Alice’s clitoris, sometimes brushing against it, sometimes just missing it. The more I teased her, the more excited she got. My dick was rock hard and leaking underneath me.

“That’s fucking hot!” Carroll said, “Now put a finger inside her. Two.”

I did what she said. Keeping the tip of my tongue balanced on Alice’s joy buzzer (as best as I could what with her squirming around), I slid a finger, and then two up her slippery wet pussy. She was hot inside, and her pussy seemed to grasp my fingers. I slid them in and out, finger-fucking her as I teased her clit.

“Three. Put three fingers in.” Carroll sounded hoarse.

It was a tight fit, but I managed to get a third finger up her pussy. Alice was moaning constantly, like a cat in heat. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard her so aroused.

“Now play with her asshole.” Carroll instructed.

I let my pinky finger slide down into the forbidden zone between Alice’s butt cheeks. My finger found the tight ring of her anus, and gently stroked it. Her pussy was gobbling my fingers, and as I reapplied my tongue to her straining clit, she howled and bucked, writhing and shaking underneath me.

“Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming!! Don’t stop! I’m coming, I’m fucking coming!”

I stayed with her all the way through her orgasm, and when she was done, I was soaked in her juices.

“Now fuck her!” Carroll said. She had one finger buried in her own pussy up to the knuckle, and I could see the wetness dribbling out of her.

We arranged ourselves as before, doggy-style, so we could watch Carroll masturbate. I slid my dick up Alice’s red-hot pussy, and it felt like heaven.

“That felt so gooood,” Alice whispered back to me, “fuck me good and deep and come in my cunt!”

I knew I wasn’t going to last long. I tried to prolong the ecstasy by going slow. I’d ease my cock all the way inside Alice’s pussy, and then slowly withdraw it until just the head was nestled in between her clinging lips. Even so, I was just hanging on by a thread. It felt exquisite. We could both here the squelching sounds of Carroll masturbating: she was plunging two fingers in and out of her shaved, brown and purple vagina, and she was using two fingers on the other hand to peel back her fat lips and expose her pink little clit.

“Now fuck her in the ass!”

Now that was right out of left field. Alice and I had never done that, never even discussed doing that. I’d never had anal sex. I’d always wanted to try, but I’d never known how to ask.

I waited for Alice to say Yay or Nay, but she just buried her face in the sheets and thrust her rump even higher in the air. I took that for a ‘Yes’.

I pulled my wet dick out of her pussy and carefully parted her cheeks. There it was, her tiny little brown crinkled asshole. It looked so small and delicate; there was no way my cock was going to fit inside. I nestled my slippery cock head up against her anus, and she kind of moaned and wiggled her ass. I looked up at Carroll, who was grinding herself against her fingers, and who grinned down at me.

Very carefully, I took aim. As gently as I could, I nudged forward, and her body seemed to open up and swallow me. Alice kind of grunted and lurched back toward me, and suddenly the fattest part of my dick was lodged in her asshole. Her sphincter squeezed me so tight it was almost painful.

I nudged gently forward again, slipping past the tight ring of resistance, and then I was inside her. Alice sighed, arching her back and pressing back against me.

I felt the orgasm bubbling up from my toes. “I’m going to come!” I gasped hoarsely.

“Don’t come!” Alice whispered insistently, “Please not yet, I want to come too.”

With everything I had, closing my eyes, curling my toes and clenching my ass, I held it back. Alice’s fingers were rubbing furiously on her clit. I kept fucking her ass, slowly, steadily, plunging in and out. Her breathing was getting sharp and ragged, and I knew she was right on the edge.

I slid one finger up her pussy. It was tight, and I could feel my own cock moving through the thin layer of flesh. That set her right off, like a string of firecrackers, and it set me off too. I forgot about being gentle, and started slamming my dick into her asshole, finger-fucking her hard at the same time, as my orgasm roared through me like an express train. We were both shouting and growling and bucking, fucking like wild things, as we came together, and I squirted jet after jet of hot sticky semen straight up her butt.

I guess Carroll came at the same time as us, but I was too wrapped up in Alice to even notice. I think that was the longest, most intense orgasm I’d ever had.

After I’d carefully extracted myself and we’d cleaned up and Carroll had gotten dressed and left, Alice and I were cuddling in bed together.

“Why didn’t you ever do that to me before?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I didn’t think you’d like it.”

Fit the Third: The Vanishing

Alice broke it to me over breakfast: orange juice and bacon flavored seitan.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” she said, “So I’m just going to say it. I’m leaving.”

It knocked the wind out of me, like a roundhouse punch to the stomach. It hurt, and I felt literally dizzy for a moment as the world shifted on its axis. But at the same time, it was a relief, and it felt like a tight strap around my chest had just been relaxed. I could finally breathe again.

“I’ll be packing my things over the next couple days,” she told me. I couldn’t look at her. “I hope we’ll always be friends.”

Unwashed dishes began to pile up in my sink.

Fit the Fourth: The Capture

I was late. I was already running behind my time, and then the subways were screwed up, and then I was really late.

My dick felt like a lead ingot between my legs, a heavy pendulum swinging back and forth as I walked up their block.

They had a basement apartment in Astoria they called the Rabbit Hole.  Carroll met me on the landing at the bottom of the stairs, naked. Naked, that is, except for a strap-on and harness: black on black.

The dildo glistened wet and slick in the fluorescent light of the stairwell. The flesh around the scar on Carroll’s chest was livid and red. “Come on in,” she said to me, “You’re just in time for the main event.”

Her phallus wiggled and bobbed obscenely as she walked. For just a moment, I imagined what it might be like to be bent over in front of that fat black dildo, and it gave me a secret thrill.

She led me into the bedroom, where Alice lay spread-eagled on the bed. Her pussy looked freshly fucked: pouting pinkly open and drooling wet. There were bruises on her wrists and ankles, livid red and purple. Her nipples were erect. She wore a dog collar, fastened with a tiny padlock, and she had a fresh tattoo, still red and irritated, a copy of the classic Tenniel illustration of the Mad Hatter. Instead of a tea cup, he held aloft a large pink dildo, shaped like a flamingo. When she saw me, she smiled and waved.

I got undressed, and sat down in a big purple overstuffed easy chair to watch the show.

Carroll had fished herself out of the strap-on harness, and was busy pouring lube all over her hand and Alice’s crotch.

“Girl’s got a really tight pussy,” Carroll said to me over her shoulder, “I had to loosen it up a bit first.” She grinned. “I am really going to enjoy this.”

She methodically began finger-fucking Alice. One finger at first, then two, then three. She stopped and applied more lube, then worked a fourth finger in. Even though I knew what was coming, I couldn’t believe it was actually going to happen.

It was beautiful to watch. Alice appeared lost in ecstasy. Her pussy opened up to devour Carroll’s invading fingers, wider and wider. Carroll’s face was a mask of concentration as she formed her hand into a duck-bill shape, gently but insistently working all five fingers deeper and deeper into Alice’s wide-stretched cunt.

It was as if we were all three balanced on a razor’s edge. At long last the tension broke. Alice sighed, a long, drawn-out, contented-sounding sigh, and Carroll’s fist slid all the way up inside her, buried to the wrist in her pussy.

“Oh fuck, you’re inside me!” Alice said, her voice trembling, “You’re really really inside me! Fuck me! Fuck me, make me come!”

Carroll starting fucking Alice with her fist: infinitesimally small, meticulous little movements that made Alice writhe and contort. Both women were in a universe all their own. They seemed completely unaware of me, and my skyward pointing, completely erect, oozing dick.

“I’m going to come! I’m going to come! I’m going to come!” Alice squeezed her eyes shut, her face contorted into a grimace. Her abdomen contracted and shook, her nipples turned bright red, and her breath came in raspy little gasps as the orgasm rolled through her.

As the peak passed, Carroll carefully withdrew her hand. Her fingers were absolutely covered with juice, a mixture of come and lube. Alice’s pussy gaped wide open as she rocked through a series of aftershocks. Her clit stood up, tiny and bright pink.

“That was really amazing!” We all three agreed, naked over mojitos, my dick still painfully hard, my balls heavy and tender. The ice clinked in my glass, and the girls kept brushing their naked thighs against mine.

They lay me down on the bed, flat on my back, my cock pointing up at the plaster ceiling.

Alice stooped over me, kissing my lips like a hummingbird while her boobs hung down, her nipples brushing lightly against my own, sending a jolt of electricity through me every time we made contact. Carroll squatted between my legs, insinuating a finger between my butt cheeks.

I jumped and started to protest when she found my anus, but she was insistent, and Alice shushed me, so I tried to relax and let her do her thing. Carroll’s slippery finger felt huge as it probed and invaded my sphincter. It felt awkward, uncomfortable, and oddly erotic.

Suddenly she was inside, worming her way deeper and deeper into the recesses of my body. It felt strange, but not in a bad way, no, not at all. I felt myself squirming to give her better access as she finger-fucked my asshole, and my cock was harder than ever. A big fat drop of pre-come oozed out the end, and ran down the shaft like a tear drop.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” I heard myself begging as Alice kissed my lips and tweaked my nipples. A grinning Carroll complied, banging my ass harder and deeper, forcing her finger all the way up inside me.

She started tracing the length of my cock with the fingertips of her free hand, just barely touching me, running her fingers lightly up and down the sensitive flesh as she worked a second slick finger up my freaked-out, hyper-excited asshole, curling and pulling and twisting her fingers inside me.

The orgasm took me by surprise, blindsided me, like a stray jolt of lightning, the kind of flash-BOOM that means you’ve just missed being electrocuted. All of a sudden I screamed out loud, shooting come in a high arc all the way up my chest and onto my chin, spattering Alice on her face. My cock twitched and my asshole spasmed, and I came and came, pumping bucket loads of semen all over my heaving stomach.

Finally I started breathing again. Carroll carefully extracted her fingers from my clenching anus. The girls lapped up the come all over my torso as if it were icing on a fancy French dessert. There was a lot of giggling, all around, and then we all three took a shower together.

It was late late by the time I got back to my cozy little apartment, but I didn’t care. My cock felt thick and comfortably satisfied in my pants, my asshole was still buzzing and my balls were sore. I stayed up for a while, did the dishes, had a beer, lounged on the bed, stretched my legs out and half-studied a book on chess openings.

I might masturbate later on, imagining Carroll in that strap-on, fucking Alice’s pussy. Or Alice wearing that strap-on, fucking my ass while I licked Carroll’s smooth brown pussy.

My snark may have been a boojum, but I kind of liked it that way.


Comments (7)

Persephone’s Kiss

It started with a kiss. I was only fifteen, and my sister Persephone was two years older than me. She just popped into my room –I’d barely had time to close out of the porn I was looking at- and kissed me full on the lips, disappearing without a word of explanation. I knew a kiss didn’t necessarily mean anything; but I knew this one did.

I knew you weren’t supposed to feel that way about your own sister, and that it was wrong, but I did feel that way about her; and when she left me alone in my room, my dick was so hard it hurt.

That incident bothered me for two solid weeks. I blushed every time I looked at her. Sometimes it seemed like she was avoiding me; sometimes she seemed extra affectionate, touching my arm or ruffling my hair. I craned my neck for a look down her shirt at her small, freshly-sprouted, bra-enclosed breasts. When I jerked off, she was always in my mind’s eye.

Two solid weeks of horny, angst-ridden torture. And then it happened.

When Mom walked in on us, we were in my bedroom. There was a filthy porn video playing on the computer; two older guys fucking and mistreating a skinny, pale red-headed girl whose hands were cuffed together, and who’s mouth was stuffed to overflowing with a big fat cock while her pussy was getting fucked from behind by another oversized dick. It was pretty hot.

The whole thing had been her idea. Honestly. She had started pestering me about porn when I got home from school that day; whether I looked at it, whether I liked it, what kind I liked, whether I had any good stuff on my computer. She was persistent, she insisted, until I finally led her upstairs, blushing and sweating and ragingly self-conscious of the erection in my jeans, to my bedroom, where I hesitantly showed her some of the links on my computer.

She liked the links. She wanted to see more. She rubbed my shoulders, leaning forward and pressing her small boobs into the back of my head. I thought I might just come in my pants. My head was spinning; I literally felt dizzy with lust and excitement and disbelief.

More, she wanted to see more. And then my pants came off, and my shorts too, and I was standing next to my messy, unmade bed, wearing nothing but an AC/DC t-shirt, my boxer shorts gathered up around my ankles. Persephone was sitting on the edge of my bed, no shirt, her beige bra the only thing hiding her fried-egg sized boobs from me, her mouth wrapped around my hard, swollen cock.

It was the first time a girl had ever set lips upon my cock, and I thought I had just slipped into nirvana. Her mouth felt so good, so hot and wet on my dick. The sensations were exquisite, her head bobbing up and down, taking my whole length inside her mouth, her tongue swirling around, tracing the ridgelines of my cock; her hand pumping my shaft. The fact that it was my sister doing this to me barely even registered.

I wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.

“I’m going to come soon!” I warned her.

Her head popped off the end of my wet dick, leaving me quiveringly erect. “Don’t hold back!” she told me, and then she went back to work, sucking me harder than ever, and jerking off the base of my cock with one hand. I closed my eyes and surrendered to it, rocking back and forth on my heels, humping back against her mouth.

And then mom burst into my bedroom, screaming, cursing obscenities at me. She hit me with a broom, swearing at me like I was a mad dog. Persephone went sprawling onto the floor. I tried to run away, but tripped up on my boxers. Mom hit me with the broom again and again until I kicked the boxers all the way off and went running out of the room, naked from the waist down, my cock still hard and wet and sticking out in front of me like the prow of a sailing ship plunging through stormy weather.

Mom chased me through the house, hitting me with the broom whenever she could reach me, cursing me and calling me terrible names. Eventually I locked myself in the basement.

She pounded on the door for a while, but then seemed to give up, and all was quiet. I had to jerk off; there was no way I couldn’t, the pressure in my balls was too much, and my erection refused to go down. I thought about Persephone while I masturbated, picturing her boobs and the way her lips looked wrapped around my dick; I wondered what she looked like naked.

When I came, there was a lot of come, but it wasn’t a very good orgasm, and I didn’t have anything but my t-shirt to wipe up with. I slunk back upstairs, naked, and disgraced. Fortunately I made it up to my room without being intercepted.

I stayed in my room all night. I didn’t even come down for dinner, and nobody asked me to. I figured at best I’d be grounded for ever, I’d lose my computer privileges, there would be a nanny-cam installed in my room, a V-chip that shocked me every time I got an erection. At worst I’d be sent away to military academy, or some Christian reprogramming camp. But nothing was ever said. When I finally did come down, both Persephone and Mom ignored my presence. Mom gave me the silent treatment for about a week, but that was all. Maybe it was just too horrible for her to cope with. I don’t think she ever really trusted me again.

The second time went better. It was about three weeks later, and things had pretty much returned to normal at our house. Persephone acted as if nothing at all had happened between us, and I guess I had written off the whole thing as an aberration, never to be repeated. I was taking my morning shower, getting ready for school, and, as usual for me, I had an erection.

Persephone slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She was already dressed for school. She put one finger to her lips: hush! Mom was downstairs, making us lunch.

I stepped out from under the stream of water, leaving the shower running. Persephone knelt down by the side of the tub. She flirtatiously peeled her one corner of her camisole down, showing me a small, perky boob, and then she quickly and efficiently went to work.

She opened her mouth, laid the head of my cock on her tongue, wrapped her hand around my dick and started pumping, hard and fast. It didn’t take very long. I hadn’t masturbated in like a day, and I was already pretty worked up. Her soft strong hand felt infinitely better than my own, the view and the sensation of my dick on her extended tongue were just too much. It couldn’t have been much more than a minute and I was coming, writhing in ecstasy, humping against her, pumping her mouth full of my sticky, white teenaged semen.

Persephone lapped it all up, kissed me lightly on the end of the dick, straightened up her camisole, and left me standing there, soaking wet and bewildered, my adolescent cock still halfway hard.

It was a few weeks later, at the movies along with Mom, that she let me touch her pussy. I don’t even remember what the movie was, some sort of romantic comedy I suppose; I wasn’t interested in it, but it was family movie night, so I had no choice in the matter. Mom sat in the middle of the row, then there was an empty seat with our jackets and the backpack that we smuggled snacks in with, and then it was Persephone, and then me.

The opening credits had just finished, and my eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dark. Persephone took my hand and placed it between her legs. She was wearing an ankle-length white cotton skirt that was now piled up in her lap. She guided my hand between her supple thighs, where my fingertips found the whisper-soft material of her cotton panties.

My wandering fingers traced up and down the front of her panties, and she squirmed. I felt her adjust, lift her butt up off the seat, and then her panties were down around her knees.

Her pussy was wet. Shockingly wet; hot and slippery. I had never touched a vagina before, and now my dick was so hard I thought I would come in my pants. My finger slid up inside her, and I felt her breathing change as her pussy enveloped me.

I finger-fucked her through the entire movie. Silently, she showed me how to find her clit. I think she came several times; it was hard to tell, but her breathing would change and her body would go rigid. At the end of the movie, she moved my hand away and straightened up her skirt. My hand was coated in her juices and my cock bulged out the front of my pants like a totem pole.

I could still smell her on my fingers that night when I masturbated, and when I came I shot off so hard that come splattered up my chest and onto my neck.

We carried on, very quietly and carefully, for the next two years. It was hard to get much time alone with her; Mom always seemed to be on my case, watching me, ready to jump on any sign of impropriety. The way it worked, Persephone mostly gave me quick blowjobs in stolen moments, and she got better and better at it until she could play me like a clarinet virtuoso.

A few times she let me finger her, and once, on vacation, she allowed me to watch her masturbate with a travel-sized shampoo bottle.

And then Persephone went away to college, where she had boyfriends, and then she moved to New York. She got a fiancé, and then a husband, and I hardly ever saw her anymore.

I never had a girlfriend in high school. I did a little better in college, where I finally lost my virginity, but none of the girls I was with had Persephone’s sexual confidence. I never felt a real spark.

Before I even graduated, I was offered a job with a hot new startup in Manhattan. I had my own office, albeit a tiny, closet-like one with no windows, where I sat and coded twelve to sixteen hours a day, subsisting on Diet Coke and Cheetos. I was getting paid more money than I could spend, and I had a nice apartment in a fancy neighborhood in Brooklyn that I barely ever saw and never got around to furnishing.

For the first time in my life I was mostly too tired and brain-fried to masturbate.

“You have a visitor.” It was Marcy, the project manager, my nominal boss. She was forty-something, blonde, frumpy and overweight, a corporate-speaking professional manager. And I’m really bad at telling, but I thought she’d been hitting on me.

My visitor was, in fact, Persephone. I hadn’t seen her since the wedding. We’d tried to get together when I first moved to New York, but things quickly got too hectic. Marcy showed her into my office. The little room was downright claustrophobic with all three of us inside.

“Marcy, I’d like you to meet my sister, Persephone.” They shook hands. “…if you could leave us alone for a few minutes…”

“Why don’t you take lunch?” Marcy suggested, closing the door behind her. Persephone and I were alone, alone together in the same room for the first time in years.

Persephone planted her butt on my desk. “Wanna get some food?” she asked.

“Um… I usually just order in. They don’t really like us to leave the office during the work day.”

“Mmmm” Persephone grinned, tossing her long black hair in a sultry gesture. She was even more beautiful as an adult than a teen: tall and curvy and sultry. “Even better. Can you guess what I want to eat?”

My cock, already half-hard, was instantly at full attention. I hadn’t gotten off in almost two weeks; all I did was code, eat, and sleep. And it had been over a year since I had been touched by anyone female. I had even started contemplating responding to Marcy’s advances, asking her out on a date or something, if I could ever get a day off.

“God I’ve missed you!” Persephone said, pulling her shirt off and unsnapping her bra. My blood pressure spiked. Holy shit, my office door wasn’t even locked. I started to stammer a protest, but it felt like I was trying to stop an avalanche. Persephone slid off the desk and knelt before me, unzipping my fly. I cupped her boobs in the palms of my hands. They were soft and warm, shaped like miniature pears, small and soft and firm with dark, erect, upturned nipples.

My cock was harder than hard, straining up and out, bobbing in front of Persephone’s face. “Did you miss me too?” She asked, smiling up at me. She stuck out her tongue and traced a line from my balls, along the quivering underside of my cock all the way up to the red and swollen crown. The tip of her tongue tickled my frenum.

It took everything I had to not come at that instant. By holding my breath, curling my toes, and clenching my butt, I was able to choke the orgasm down. One big fat, iridescent pearl of semen oozed out the tip of my cock, and balanced there like a huge drop of nectar. Persephone greedily lapped up my spilt come. She wrapped her hand around the base of my cock. The gold band on her ring finger gleamed coldly.

I knew it was wrong. I was a grown-up now. I knew that brothers and sisters shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing, that it was morally wrong, perverted, and downright illegal. I shouldn’t be letting her do this to me. But at the same time I knew I wouldn’t stop her. I wanted this. I wanted it more than anything.

She gripped my penis tight and swirled her tongue around the head, traversing every ridge and texture. I moaned out loud, rocking forward on the balls of my feet.

Persephone lifted her mouth off me for one second. “Don’t hold back.” she said, “I want to taste you.” and then she lowered her mouth back onto my cock. Her tongue swirled acrobatically around my glans, while the hand encircling the shaft glided steadily up and down.

There was no holding back, it wasn’t even a question. I was beyond any semblance of control now. I was coming, coming, a long, drawn-out orgasm that seemed to go on forever. It was like a tsunami breaking on the beach and rushing inland, overwhelming. I pumped what seemed like gallon after gallon of come into her mouth. She milked every last drop from my cock, then finally released my soft, sensitive penis with a *pop*.

“Thank you,” she said, standing up and buttoning her blouse. “You have no idea how bad I needed that.” She looked at me slyly. “Or maybe you did.”

All I could do was stutter.

“I need to get going now. Troy” (Troy was her husband. I’d flown out for their wedding three years before.) “will start to wonder where I’ve gotten to. I told him I was shopping with a girlfriend. Can I come back for lunch tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow no good,” I managed, “Lunch meeting. Thursday?”

“Then it’s a date, Baby Bro.” She kissed me on the lips and made her exit. I was left standing by my desk, my head spinning and my flaccid wet dick hanging out my trousers.

I masturbated that night, and the next, thinking about Persephone, but I didn’t let myself come. Too much work, not enough sleep and powerful feelings of lust for my beautiful, crazy, married sister chipped away at my sanity and my judgment like a sculptor hacking away at a block of ice.

“Your sister’s here again.” Marcy showed Persephone into my elevator-sized office. The little room felt intensely claustrophobic with the three of us inside. Persephone wore a short black skirt that showed off her long, skinny legs. She was holding a sweating fountain drink in one hand. Marcy’s boobs were threatening to burst out of her white blouse. She had enormous breasts, and I think she left a button or two undone just for my benefit. “Say, would you two like to go out for lunch with me? I’ll treat!”

“Uh, no thanks Marse. We’ve got a lot to discuss, a lot of catching up to do. Ah, family business.”

“Ok, whatever.” Marcy left us alone, and Persephone grinned and swirled the ice in her cup.

“I am going to eat you for lunch, Little Brother.” She pried the lid off her soda and filled her mouth with ice. I sat heavily down in my expensive swivel chair, squirming my pants down. My cock was hard and eager.

Persephone crawled toward me, her mouth full of little ice cubes. She swallowed my penis with one big gulp. The sensation of cold was shocking, but after a second I realized that it actually felt really good.

She played me like an instrument until all the ice was melted away, running her fingers up and down my cock, playing gently with my balls, all the while bobbing her mouth up and down on my dick, tongue swirling, making noises like a demented ice machine. She could sense my excitement, and every time I started to get close, she backed off. She sucked me for a full half-hour, until my swollen cock felt like it was going to burst and I was literally begging her to let me get off.

“Come for me then, come for me now Baby Brother. Give it to me!” Persephone opened her mouth, balancing the head of my cock on her tongue, and pumped my shaft hard and fast. I exploded, squirting my come straight into her mouth. Gobs and gobs of it.

She swallowed it all, looking exactly like a large and very self-satisfied cat.

“Perse?” I asked.

“What’s up Bro?”

“Could I go down on you? Could I lick your pussy?”

She gave me a sharp look. “Is that something you really want to do?”

“Oh God, yes!” I blurted out, “I’ve wanted that for ages and ages.”

Persephone smiled. “Me too. Ok, you can do that. But not today.”

“That’s ok, I’ve used up my lunch break today anyway… Monday?”

“Monday then.” She kissed me full on the lips. I could taste my own come on her tongue. I was already hard again.

Over the weekend, she kept sending filthy texts to my phone: how delicious my cock was, how wet her pussy was, how badly she wanted me. I had to work all day Saturday and Sunday, and my dick stayed obstinately hard under my desk, making it extremely difficult to code effectively.

On Monday, just before noon, Marcy poked her head into my office. “Your lunch date’s here,” she leered.

Persephone was wearing an ankle-length white cotton paisley dress. She gave me a smile that was either shy or predatory. “I hope you’re hungry, Bro.”

She lifted up her dress. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She had a small, neatly trimmed triangle of pubic hair. She sat down on my swivel chair, spreading her legs. Her petite little pussy pouted open hungrily.

“Do you have any idea,” she asked, “How long I’ve wanted you to do this?”

I had some idea. I’d wanted to do this since I was fifteen.

She was very wet. Her pussy was hot and slick, and tasted nice; clean and sweet and tangy, like some exotic honey. Her clit was tiny and pink, hard as a pebble.

She started moaning as soon as my tongue parted her lips. I lapped at her, slowly at first, then faster and harder, devouring her. The more I ate her, the wetter she got and the more noise she made. My cock felt like a tree trunk inside my pants.

“Fuck, fuck! Stop, I’m going to come!” I looked up from between her thighs. My face was coated in her juice. “Jerk off onto me!” She was fingering her clit. “I want to feel your come on my cunt!”

I hurriedly pulled out my cock, pointed it at her juicy, spread-open cunt, and masturbated for all I was worth. It didn’t take much, I was already incredibly turned on. Her body shook and her fingers were a blur as I shouted out loud and squirted jet after jet of hot sticky semen all over her pussy.

We stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard. Then Persephone stood up, letting her dress fall back down, covering her nudity. She kissed me once, long and hard.

“Thank you Bro,” she said, “That was fantastic. I’ll see you Wednesday for lunch, ok?”

I didn’t see her on Wednesday. I didn’t see her again for a long time.

Shortly after I got to the office on Wednesday morning, my morning routine was interrupted by a pair of NYPD detectives and a gaggle of uniformed police. They handcuffed me and read me my rights and led me out of the building while everybody stared. I was taken down to the street, past a flying squadron of photographers and shouting reporters and curious bystanders and into the back of a patrol car.

I spent the two most miserable weeks of my life sitting around in jail. The food left much to be desired, though the carrot cake was certainly delicious, and when my fellow inmates found out what I was in for, I got a lot of semi-sardonic, semi-admiring high-fives. I became a minor celebrity at Riker’s Island. A few of the guards even grinned and winked at me.

They charged me with third-degree incest. My portrait was plastered all over the inside of the New York Post. My lawyer looked at me like I was a rancid chunk of meat. She copped me a bargain: a four year suspended sentence and ten months of probation. I had to wear an electronic ankle bracelet. I received an official letter from my Mother’s attorney, notifying me that I had been disowned, and asking me not to make contact with any family members. Persephone wasn’t charged with anything. What she said to her husband, I don’t know.

Nobody spoke to me when I returned to work. I went into my office and shut the door behind me. It was then that I knew for sure I was fired: I was locked out of everything. I couldn’t even check my email or get onto the internet. I amused myself for a while playing Minesweeper.

Marcy poked her head in and asked me to step into her office. I sat down in front of her desk, where she eyed me coolly, like some grand inquisitor. Her office was bigger than mine, with real walls, and a stout wooden door.

“Are you really that attracted to her?” After a long, uncomfortable silence, Marcy had stood up and locked the door, and now she was standing directly behind me. She rested her hands on my shoulders. “I mean she is your sister, that’s kind of weird. But she’s not really even all that hot. Don’t get me wrong, I’d do her to, but she’s just skin and bones. She barely even has tits. Not worth losing your job over. I like a woman with some meat on her bones, don’t you?”

Marcy was rubbing my shoulders. It felt nice. Marcy’s breasts kept brushing against the back of my head.

“Could the whole office hear us?”

“Oh yes,” Marcy said. She had stopped rubbing my shoulders. “We all thought it was pretty amusing…”

“Somebody wasn’t amused. Somebody called the cops and got me arrested.”

“Turn around,” she whispered huskily.

I swiveled around to face her. She was already unbuttoning her white blouse. Underneath, still constrained by her bra, her breasts were enormous.

When she set them free, they hung down like giant, over-filled water balloons. She had a big, round belly that was somehow not at all unattractive. When she got down on her knees, I could see her red panties down the gap in the back of her black slacks.

Marcy fished out my penis, my treacherously hard penis, and fondled it greedily. “Mmm, this looks delicious. I can see why she liked having you for lunch so much!” She slathered her tongue up and down my shaft, making my dick stand up even taller. She licked and nuzzled my balls, her tongue probing down between my butt cheeks, making me squirm.

She smiled up at me, a wide, slightly crooked smile. “Fuck my face,” she said, “Go ahead. Don’t be gentle. But don’t come yet either. I’ve got plans for you.”

And then she swallowed me whole, taking me all the way down her throat, until her nose was pressed into my pubic hair.

It felt amazing. I stood up, keeping my cock buried in her mouth, and took her by the hair, wrapping my fingers around her blonde locks. I started rocking my hips back and forth, fucking her mouth like a pussy, gently at first, then as she stayed with me and didn’t object, harder and harder until I was slamming her face down onto my crotch.

Marcy made little grunting and slobbering noises as I fucked her mouth, and her huge tits swung violently. I wanted to shoot my come straight down her throat. I could feel my balls tightening as I neared my peak.

Her mouth popped off my dick, leaving me dripping wet and achingly hard.

“Not bad, huh? I bet your sister doesn’t suck dick that good.”

She peeled off her black cotton slacks like a snake shedding its skin. A burgundy g-string looked either sexy or faintly bizarre on the broad expanse of her hips, a tiny red triangle of lonely silky satiny fabric amid acres of soft flesh. The red contrasted sharply with her shockingly pale skin. Somehow it was more sexy than ridiculous.

She pulled the g-string aside, showing me her pussy. Closely cropped soft-looking blonde hair. The inner workings of her cunt were hidden, between her copious thighs was a deep furry crease, like a river gorge in a high mountain pass. I could smell her excitement, thick and sultry.

Marcy bent over her desk, skimpy panties down around her knees, her huge tits pressed into the keyboard. She presented her rear end to me, wiggling it invitingly.

I slid my spit-slick cock in between the great soft pillows of her buttocks. The crease between the cheeks of her ass was warm and deep. She pressed back against me, hard.

My cock slid between her ass cheeks, up and down, occasionally peeking out, usually totally hidden by her flesh. It felt fantastic. She was soft and hot. She kept encouraging me: Harder! Faster! Her own fingers were busy between her legs.

It didn’t take long at all. I felt the come boiling up in my balls, and I completely surrendered to the bliss, humping Marcy’s wide, jiggling ass cheeks with abandon until I shouted out loud and squirted my come all across the small of her back.

My soft cock was still wedged between her butt cheeks, and I was left sweaty and panting and light-headed. This was not the Marcy that I had imagined that I knew: frumpy, bureaucratic, and (technically) old enough to be my mother. Her fingers were still working squishily between her thighs.

“Now clean up your mess,” she told me, “Lick it off.”

And I did. Starting with the large puddle at the base of her spine, and continuing down the crack of her ass until I had licked up every drop of my spent semen. I didn’t really mind the taste at all, and the situation, my tongue buried so intimately in her posterior as she whacked off harder and harder, was intensely erotic. By the time she came, with a shudder and a gasp, my dick was halfway hard all over again.

Marcy gripped my semi-hard dick fondly, with an almost sisterly gesture. “I’m a virgin,” she told me, “Bonafide. So you’re not getting any of that. But next time we get together I’ll give you a righteous titty fuck!” She leered at me as she squeezed her bust back inside that industrial-strength brassiere.

That didn’t sound like a bad deal to me, not at all. I thought about what Marcy had said about Persephone, about how she’d do her. That was an interesting image too.

The impersonal, corporate mask slipped back over her face as she clambered back into her white blouse and black trousers. “You know you’re fired, of course,” Marcy said to me, “I did manage to get you a very generous severance package. You have until noon to clean up your office and get out of the building, but if I were you, I’d just go now.” She paused before sending me back to my tiny little office, “I’ll be in touch.”

It didn’t take me long to pack up my stuff. It all fit inside a slim briefcase. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, boring into my back as I walked out of the building for the very last time. I wondered what they were all thinking. Was anyone sympathetic, or was I just a pervert?

Marcy was right. I did get a very generous severance package out of them: a year’s salary, and health insurance. I got a new job pretty much right away, with a Japanese firm that allowed me to work from home. It was a lot less money than I’d been making before, but quite frankly I didn’t give a shit, and I wasn’t expected to work sixteen hours a day, seven days a week. They even encouraged the occasional vacation.

I got a new, smaller apartment, in a less fashionable neighborhood in Brooklyn. I mostly stayed inside, dashing out once or twice a week for groceries. I took a long series of deep breaths, and started to regain my equilibrium. My phone rang a lot, but I never picked it up.

There was a small, litter-strewn park across the street from my new place. Marcy started hanging out on a park bench directly opposite my one window. She always had a pair of field glasses with her, sometimes a camera with a big telephoto lens. Now and then she’d read a book, or play with her iPad. She was there most days, from late afternoon to sundown.

The tap at my door was so soft I thought I had imagined it. Then the knocking came again, slightly bolder, more insistent. I shut out of the project I’d been working on, pulled on a pair of pants, and trepidatiously opened the door.

Persephone was standing out there in the stairwell, looking taller and skinnier than ever in a little white sundress with sunflowers printed all over it.

She kissed me hard as soon as she stepped across the threshold, pressing herself against me, and pulling me close to her. “I’m sorry it’s been such a mess,” she breathed into my ear. Her small breasts were pressed hard against my chest. “I had to say you forced yourself on me… I had to say you made me do it… God, I’ve missed you!”

Persephone was rubbing my cock through the front of my pants. My dick strained out toward her.

“I want you Baby Brother,” she whispered, still massaging my cock, “I want you so badly.”

We fell onto my bed together, her little flowered sun dress naturally riding up.

She was, as I had suspected, not wearing anything under her summer dress. My hand slid up between her thighs, and her pussy was slick and wet. She kissed me desperately as I fingered her. Her pussy responded excitedly, blooming and engulfing my probing finger. She rocked her hips back and forth as I finger-fucked her.

“I want you,” I said, “I want to be inside of you. I want to fuck you.”

My fingers were coated in her wetness. I extracted my pent-up cock from my pants. Her dress was in a pile around her waist.

“I can’t,” she said, “no, not today. I’ll eat you. I’ll suck your dick so good. Next time, next time you can fuck me. ”

My pants came off. My dick stuck rigidly out, like a piece of jagged rebar, hard as tempered steel. A long string of pre-come leaked out the engorged end, like a gossamer thread of spider web. She licked it off greedily.

“Please…” I begged.

“Next time,” Persephone said, “Next time, I promise. Let me eat you right now.” Her mouth was hot and wet on my cock, and I had to force myself not to come right away. Her tongue moved languidly, slathering all over my dick.

I grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted her off my crotch, slapped her across the face with my wet dick once, twice, again and again. I shoved her roughly off the bed, and she squealed in dismay.

She landed face-down. I straddled her, shoving her face hard against the rough wood floor. I lifted up her white summer dress, exposing her firm white buttocks. I slapped her ass hard, leaving livid red fingerprints on her pale cheeks.

I wrapped one hand around her long, slender throat. I could feel her life pulsing beneath my grip.

My other hand parted her ass cheeks, exposing her tiny, tender, vulnerable-looking crinkled pink anus.

“Tell me not to,” I said, “Tell me to stop.” My cock slid up and down between the half-moons of her ass, nuzzling at her wet pussy and her asshole.

“Please,” she whispered, “Please…”

I spit on her asshole, and she groaned gutturally. Her pussy was leaking come down the insides of her thighs, gasping hungrily open.

I took a big handful of her hair in my fist and jammed her face hard against the floor, boring my cock into her ass, forcing it through the tight ring of muscle, grinding relentlessly into her. She strained and gasped, a drawn-out, strangled animal noise, but I didn’t stop. I worked my hips, auguring my dick deeper and deeper into her ass, until the full weight of my body was lying on her back and her buttocks were pressed against my hips. I could feel her trembling beneath me.

I fucked her ass hard and fast, taking my pleasure in it. She was tight, her muscles gripped my pistoning dick, clinging at me, milking me. She made a noise like a cat being tortured as I fucked her. I wasn’t sure if that noise was pain, pleasure, or anger. It only took a few minutes, and then I came, squirting my come up her rectum. My orgasm seemed to go on and on. It felt amazing.

At long last, I collapsed on top of her, breathing hard into the back of her neck. Her asshole pulsated, squeezing my softening dick.

I reached underneath her, worming my hand under our combined weight, until I found her pussy. She was soaking wet. I let my fingers slide up inside her cunt, and then travel up to the excited little button of her clit. I petted her there, slowly, gently, until she came with a silent shudder.

After I had extracted my soft penis from her asshole, she got up and wiped her eyes and straightened out her dress. I felt hot and clumsy and awkward. The left side of Persephone’s face was all red and abraded. Her lower lip was swollen and a little bloody. It looked like she was going to have a black eye.

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Persephone said, “I really didn’t think you were that type.”

“Can I fuck your pussy next time?” I asked.

“Next time you see me,” she said, “You can fuck my pussy.”

She put on her shoes and left.

I had about a dozen emails from my supervisor in Yokohama, and I had missed an online production meeting. I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a Diet Coke, popping it open. I wandered over to the window and took a long, cold pull from the can. I was still naked, and my soft dick hung down, sticky and moist and dribbling. My balls felt heavy and tender and my hands were shaking slightly.

Marcy was sitting at her station across from my apartment building, splayed out on the bench like a paler, less wrinkly Jabba the Hutt. She was wearing a little black miniskirt, and she had her cell phone in one hand, her expensive-looking camera balanced on her lap. She looked up at my window, and our eyes met.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and drank the rest of my pop, waiting for the knock at my door.


Comments (4)

Dad Quest

After my mom passed away, I did go a little crazy.

It had always been just the two of us together: single mother and only daughter.  Her parents had cut her out of their lives when she got knocked up, and the guy who made her pregnant, my dad, was just never a part of the picture.

The cancer started out in her left breast, and it spread like a dirty rumor, until her whole body was cancerous.  Even her tumors had tumors.  About the only positive thing I can say about her passing is that she didn’t suffer very long.

I dropped out of college; I simply stopped attending my classes. I started collecting knives and Japanese throwing stars. I made myself a garrote, a three-foot length of sixteenth-inch diameter aircraft cable with a swaged loop at either end for handles, wrapped in duct tape, that I carried with me at all times, coiled up in my purse. I stopped taking my birth control. I studied anatomy textbooks with bad intent. I masturbated myself to sleep late at night to Green Beret field manuals and practiced throwing my shuriken at male pornography taped up on my apartment wall.

Like I said, I’d gone a little crazy. I’m better now. I’d like to think I achieved some kind of catharsis.

Mom never finished high school; she dropped out before I was born.  I graduated at the top of my class, and at the time my mom died I was the only female math major at my university.  (That’s not actually saying that much; there were only seven math majors in the whole department.)

I decided to find my dad: find him, fuck him, and kill him.

Getting his name was the easy part; I had my mother’s yearbook from when she was a sophomore, the last year she had gone to school.  They had signed each other’s pictures.  “Love Always’ she had written; “Yer a babe!” he had scrawled under her photo.

I guess I could see why she had been attracted to him.  He was a Bad Boy, obviously.  In the photo, he wore a defiant sneer and a backwards-facing baseball cap, and his head was tilted back at a sardonic angle, just daring the camera to come a little closer.  He was a skinny little dude with a face that reminded me of a ferret and the shadow of a mustache haunting his upper lip.  He looked like the type of guy who might carjack you with a switchblade.  I looked and looked at the little black-and-white photograph for a long time, but I couldn’t see myself in that face, not at all.

Finding his name was easy; finding the man wasn’t so simple.  It wasn’t as if he had a Facebook page, and there were three Dan G_____s listed in the city white pages, none of whom was he.

Fortunately for me, Pops had a bunch of credit card debt; and a friend of mine who was a computer science major was able to extract his home address and place of employment.  He lived in an old industrial town about 90 minutes upstate, and he worked at a metal extruding factory. He was the second shift foreman.

I started hanging out in upstate redneck bars. I guess I was surprised at how little I got hit on, but in retrospect I suppose I shouldn’t have been. A twenty-two year old girl with an obvious chip on her shoulder, wearing an old army jacket and black jeans and combat boots drinking jack-and-cokes alone spells one thing: Trouble.

Anyway, it didn’t take me long to find him. It was the Easy Street bar, a rather banal little dive a few miles down the road from his factory, where they had classic rock on the jukebox and Budweiser on tap.

When he came in, I didn’t recognize him right away. The years had not been kind to him. He had probably put on a hundred pounds since that ratty-ass sophomore picture had been taken 22 years ago; it wasn’t concentrated in a big beer gut, his body had just gotten thick. He had a high forehead and thinning salt-and-pepper hair, and he wore a gold stud in his left earlobe. It looked like he’d done a lot of rough living since he’d knocked my mom up.

The thing that gave him away were the eyes. As soon as I saw those sad, deep-set, sea-grey eyes, I knew it was him. They were the same eyes I saw every morning when I looked in the mirror.

He wasn’t popular with the crew. I’d already heard talk in the bars: he was a hard-ass boss, a tough case, a prick to work for, an intolerant, humorless sonofabitch. Looking at him, I doubted that he had any friends at all. He came to the Easy Street most nights after his shift, eight-ish; sat by himself at the bar; had two beers; and drove home. Alone.

I watched him and watched him, over the course of a week, and then I put my plan into effect.

I left my car sitting at the park-and-ride, and walked the three or so miles along dark, sidewalk-less back country roads to Easy Street. The bartender recognized me by now, and set me up with a jack-and-coke.

He was late. I was worried that he wasn’t coming at all; some nights he didn’t.

It was nearly ten before he showed up, wearing a frown that could sink a battleship. He sat down heavily at the bar, emitting a long drawn-out sigh that reminded me of the hydraulic brakes on a big rig.

“Rough day?” I asked.

“Rough day,” he snorted. His hands reminded me of bear paws: huge and hairy, stained black with oil and metal grease. “Rough day. Two guys call in sick and one shows up drunk, and of course we get a big order in late in the day.” He looked at me quizzically, “Who’s askin’ anyway?”

“Let me buy you a drink” I nodded to the bartender, who fetched Pops a tall, frosty cold one.

“So we get this big order for box-tube, and of course the freaking die breaks, and I have to change it out myself, which is a freaking bitch, and then it’s late and none of the guys want to do overtime, so I’m stuck running the freaking machine myself, which is hard work and freaking dangerous… safety third, that’s our company motto.”

While I listened to him talk, nodding sympathetically at appropriate pauses, I was picturing him fucking me: me flat on my back with my legs wrapped around his pale ass, his big dick pistoning in and out of my pussy, humping me like a big hairy cartoon ape, grunting and snorting as he fucked. I wanted to murder him, to feel him blow his last breath in my face even as his cock twitched inside my cunt.

My panties were now distinctly moist. I shifted the way I was sitting on the barstool, bringing my knees close to, but not quite in contact with his. He finished his beer and got another. He bought me a drink too, and that was when I knew I was in. I let my hand settle on his thigh. He jumped, startled, at the touch, but didn’t move away.

“Could I get a ride?” I asked when he had finished his second beer.

“Where you going?”

“Where do you want to take me?” I asked.

I sat next to him in the passenger seat of a tan Ford station wagon that was older than me. I wondered if he’d owned that car when he was dating my mother. I wondered if he’d fucked her in the back seat, directly behind where I was sitting.

Of course I’d fantasized about doing it slowly, getting him to let me handcuff him to his bed, and then sitting astride him, engulfing his cock with my cunt before taking fingers and toes and ears and maybe his nose with my knife while he screamed and bucked and protested beneath me, unwittingly bringing me to orgasm after orgasm as he struggled. I knew it wasn’t going to go down like that; I intended to do this and to get away with it, and that meant doing the job quick and quiet; but it was a nice fantasy.

I wasn’t sure if I would call his place a house, or a shack. It was a tiny, single-story structure, overhung with trees. In the moonlight, the roof looked like it was sagging dangerously.

“I don’t bring many women home with me,” he allowed, “’scuse me if the place is a mess.”

It actually wasn’t that bad, for a single dude’s apartment. There were a bunch of hot rod and heavy metal posters straight out of the ‘80s. Tidy stacks of magazines: Popular Mechanics, and Hot Rod, and Penthouse, and Hustler. A very dusty, very old bowling trophy. A couple of plastic model cars. His clothes for the remainder of the week were laid out folded on top of his dresser. It was kind of cute, actually.

He wanted me. I could tell, and he was nervous about it, he didn’t know how to proceed. Ha! Of course I was going to fuck him, why else would I have let him take me home? I wondered how long it had been since he’d been with a girl. My handbag felt heavy with the weight of my marine Ka-Bar knife and the garrote. I had a Sog tactical dagger in a boot sheath in my Doc Martins and a tiny illegal switchblade in my jeans pocket. I felt like I was ready for anything.

I imagined Pops fucking me, skewering my juicy young pussy on his gnarly old dick, huffing and puffing as it slid in and out, the veins in his forehead bulging out with the effort. I imagined fucking back against him, whispering encouragement, playing with my clit and pulling on my nipples as he fucked me. I imagined him coming, his eyes locked on mine, his face red, his belly jiggling, his cock pistoning spasmodically. I imagined grabbing the marine combat knife out of my handbag by the bed just as he squirted his incestuous sperm into my cunt, and sliding the huge sharp wicked blade deep into his solar plexus, just under his rib cage, seeing those sad sea-grey eyes bulge out with shock and confusion right in middle of his orgasm. I imagined myself coming, bathed in his sticky red blood, as he croaked out his last breaths, his cock still frantically jerking around inside my cunt as his bulk settled on top of me, dead.

I imagined letting him fuck me, and after he was done, asking him very sweetly to go down on me, to lick his hot daddy come out of my tight little girl pussy. Of course he would. I’d set my legs on his shoulders and let him do his thing. He might be pretty good at it too. When I felt like the time was ripe, when I was good and wet and close to coming on his tongue, I’d fish out the switchblade knife. I’d reach down and stick it into his neck, breaking the skin, pressing the tip of the blade up against his carotid artery. “Lick me good Daddy,” I’d purr at him, “Lick me real good.” And he would. He’d lick my pussy frantically, hoping that if he did a good enough job it would save his life. When I came, I’d give the knife a vicious jerk, severing the artery, and he’d look up at me with wide, wide eyes, mouth silently opening and shutting, face covered in my slimy juices, his life blood squirting out of his neck with every pump of his heart, squirting up and onto me, all over my heaving tits as I rubbed myself off to a long, body-wracking, protracted orgasm.

I imagined letting him fuck me, fuck me as long and as hard and nasty as he wanted, letting him do whatever he pleased with my lithe young body, until his come was all over me and inside me, and he was tired and satisfied. I pictured him getting up to use the bathroom, and me sneaking up quietly behind him, and slipping the garrote around his neck and throttling him while he peed. I imagined leaving his lifeless naked body crumpled across the toilet in his dingy little bathroom, and me hiking quietly back to my own car. I wondered how long it would be before someone found his body.

He asked me if I’d like a drink, a beer or some water or anything. I pressed myself boldly against him, bolder than I’d ever behaved with a guy before, letting my breast brush against his chest and putting an arm around his waist. I told him I could think of something I wanted. I let my hand traverse down the front of his jeans. He smelled of work: hot metal and oil and sweat. I kind of liked that smell. It was kind of sexy.

There was a nice bulge in the crotch of his jeans, and I gave it a friendly squeeze. His hand found mine, and our fingers interlaced. He was so nervous he was trembling. I could feel his heart beating, and it was fast, fast. Wouldn’t it be the ultimate irony if the poor guy had a heart attack on me?

We maneuvered into his bedroom. It was pretty neat and tidy for a guy’s room. The bed was made. There was an open Penthouse magazine lying on the floor by the bed, and I made a point of squealing and picking it up. “Oooh naked girls!” I flopped onto his bed. The mattress was small and rather hard and lumpy. I flipped the magazine open to a spread of two heavily made-up models with scary long fingernails getting it on in a hot tub. The blonde girl’s tongue was outstretched, close to, but not quite in contact with the brunette’s carefully manicured pussy. “Oooh, sexy!” I cooed, “Do you think it’s hot when girls do that? I do.” I looked up at him, suddenly mock-concerned. “Do you like girls with big boobs?” I indicated my own not-exactly tiny rack.

“I think what you’ve got is just fine,” he said, “As a matter of fact, I think you’re beautiful.”

“Really?” I said, tossing the porn mag aside, “You really think so? Do I remind you of anyone?”

He looked thoughtful and confused, a look that quickly evaporated as I took off my top and bra and wriggled out of my jeans.

I went to work on removing his pants. He had tighty-whities on underneath. My pussy salivated as I tugged them off, exposing my Daddy’s goods to the harsh light of the incandescent overhead light.

He was only halfway hard. His cock hung down, thick and sluggish, in front of a fat pair of balls. The head was purple, and a long strand of pre-come was leaking out the tip. His balls were heavy and hairy.

I playfully flicked my tongue, licking the salty head of his dick, and his cock jerked at my touch. I was going to enjoy this immensely.

I took the whole, semi-soft thing into my mouth, sucking hard and swirling my tongue around, making popping and slurping noises with my mouth. I cupped his balls with my hand, squeezing gently. My other hand caressed his backside, exploring his crack, petting bolder and bolder into the forbidden territory of his ass, daring him to beg me to go further. His cock responded eagerly, swelling like a nature-documentary time lapse, blossoming into full hardness until my mouth could no longer contain him. It was nice and big, and had an upward curve, and the head strained eagerly out toward me. I softly tickled his asshole with one finger and dragged my tongue up along the underside of his cock, tracing the big vein, from the base all the way up to his pee hole. I looked up at him and grinned toothily.

He took off his shirt and pulled off his socks. His belly wasn’t really that big, he was just a thick man. There was a tangled nest of dark hair on his chest that straggled down to his crotch in a furry, meandering line. He had a long, white scar on one shoulder.

I pulled off my own panties. The crotch was definitely wet, and my cunt was pleasantly squooshy. My clit felt hot and swollen, nestled in between my pussy lips.

I should have made him use a condom; I had no idea what I’d do if he got me pregnant and who knows where he’d stuck that penis of his in all the years since he’d impregnated mom; for that matter he should have insisted on a condom: he had no idea where my pussy had been and what I might be infected with. But that wasn’t the way I wanted it, and apparently neither did he.

I lay flat on my back on his lumpy single bed, my legs splayed obscenely apart. He clambered on top of me, guiding his erection carefully with one hand, aiming it with the care and concentration of a skilled mechanic.

I sighed involuntarily as he penetrated me. His cock entered my body slowly, steadily, inexorably. It had been rather a long time since I’d had an honest fucking, and no matter what they say, it feels totally different when the guy isn’t wearing a condom. I could feel every texture of his cock as it moved inside me. My own father was fucking me and I was so turned on it ached. I could now officially register myself as a pervert.

He started fucking me, excruciatingly slowly, like a steam engine chugging up to speed. His eyes were narrow slits focused on mine. His thrusts were powerful, they made the bed shake, they made my tits bounce up and down. My cunt was humping back against his cock, meeting his every thrust. I could feel his balls slapping against my ass. His breathing was hard and ragged, and so was mine.

Shit, I was going to come! I couldn’t believe it, but it was sneaking up on me, overwhelming me. Penis-in-vagina sex doesn’t usually get me off, especially without a lot of extensive, kinky foreplay first. I wanted him to come along with me. I wanted his DNA inside me, for it to meet up with my DNA, and for my egg to kick his sperm’s ass. I kicked my legs frantically, lolling my head from side to side, arching my back and gurgling incoherently as he chug-chugged along, fucking my slippery wet pussy like a god-damned pussy fucking machine.

I don’t know when I’ve come that hard or that long before. My whole body tingled pleasantly; all the hair on my arms was standing on end; my nipples stuck out like sore thumbs; my clit felt distended and hyper-sensitized.

He was still inside me, still hard, but he was no longer moving.

“Did you come?” I asked.

“No,” he said sounding a little embarrassed, “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to. It’s been a very long time since I’ve done this.”

“Take me from behind” I said.

I rolled over onto all fours, and he slid his dick back up my juicy pussy. He started over again, fucking me like a potato masher. I encouraged him to fondle my breasts and slap my ass and tug on my hair. I wanted him to fuck me straight to hell. I wanted him to take me and use me the way he had taken and used my mother. He obliged, fucking me for what seemed like hours on end. He fucked me until it started to hurt. Still, he showed no sign of slowing down or getting off.

“Do you want to fuck me up the ass?”

“You mean anal sex?” he asked.

“That’s right,” I said, wiggling my butt seductively.

“I’ve never done that before…”

“I think you should do it to me now” I told him.

“I’ll be gentle” he said.

“Just fuck my ass” I said.

He pulled out of my tender pussy and nudged his slick cock against my puckered asshole. I blew out a long breath as the thick, bulbous head muscled its way through my tight sphincter.

I buried my face in the pillow, panting and growling as he butt-fucked me. I was stretched taut, filled up, invaded, pummeled from behind. I reveled in the pervertedness of it, my own daddy was sodomizing my asshole. My fingers found my swollen clitoris and I was coming again, coming in choking, gasping jerks as he fucked my ass.

“I can’t,” he panted at last, “I can’t come. I’m not going to be able to. I’m sorry.”

He carefully pulled his cock out of my poor battered little asshole. His face was all red and covered with a sheen of sweat. He was breathing hard, and the veins in his neck stuck out.

“Then masturbate for me,” I told him, “jerk off onto me.”

I lay on my back and he straddled my chest. He took his cock in hand. It was shiny wet with my juice, and red from the exertion. He squeezed it tight, painfully-looking tight, and started stroking himself with that vise-like grip. Slowly at first, then faster and faster and faster until his hand was a blur and the head of his cock looked like it was ready to explode. His big balls and his belly jiggled as he pumped. His penis was aimed at me like a loaded shotgun.

Finally he croaked out “Oh… oh… oh!” His hand froze, mid-stroke on his cock. His back arched and his eyes went wide.

The first squirt caught me on the cheek and across my nose. The next splashed onto my neck. More landed on my breasts. It was an awful lot of come. He milked the last pearly-white drops out of his shrinking dick onto my tits. I felt like I was covered in the stuff. He sat next to me on the bed, breathing hard. I dipped my finger into the slick of come on my breast, and brought my finger to my lips. His semen was salty and bitter and warm. I licked my finger clean and swallowed. My father was inside me.

We fell asleep side by side on the narrow bed. He snored like an old V-8 engine idling. One of his heavy arms was thrown across my chest.

We only slept for a few hours. When we woke up, grey light was filtering in through the window. The sun was just rising behind a heavy layer of clouds.

“I gotta get ready for work” my dad said.

“I’ve got to get going.” I said.

He sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “Will I see you again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Listen,” he said to me, “Listen. I’ve got a little girl out there somewhere, a daughter I never got to meet. She’d be about your age now. I’ve wasted my life. Don’t waste yours.”

I got dressed and left him there. I walked the three or four miles back to the park and ride. My dad’s come was dry on my face and chest, sticking to my shirt and flaking off. The clouds were low and grey and heavy, and it started to rain. The cold drops mixed in with the warm salty tears that ran down my cheeks.


Comments (14)

A Box of Letters

(The contents of an old Adidas shoe box, the letters neatly arranged in chronological order and tied up with a red ribbon.)


(a large brown envelope that also contains a number of glossy 8×10 photographs of somebody’s family reunion.  The one on top seems to have been taken in front of a grand old hotel.  A group of forty or so more-or-less related-looking people are clustered around a feisty-looking white haired old lady gripping a walker and wearing a hideous turquoise suit.  The other photos seem to center on the old lady and two other people: a girl in her early or mid twenties, with shoulder-length jet black hair, a long neck, strong cheek bones, and big brown eyes; and a guy who looks like a slightly taller, slightly older version of the same girl.)

Dear L,

I met my brother Stefan for the first time in over twenty years last week!  It was totally unplanned and unexpected.  I went to Ireland for my Nana’s ninetieth birthday celebration, and a ton of family was there, and there he was!  He’d heard about the party somehow and made the flight over himself.

Ireland was beautiful and Nana was great.  She seems so alive and sharp and so much younger than she actually is.  We all went walking in the countryside together.  We visited the farm where she was born.  Stefan and I talked a lot.  We have a ton of catching up to do!  We hadn’t seen each other since we were both little kids.  We traded phone numbers and stuff.  It turns out we don’t actually live that far apart.  He’s been in Phili the last eight years.

It was cool to see Nana in the place where she grew up, and it was neat to get together with so much family –cousins I didn’t even know I had- it was a fun trip and I was glad I went, even though I was SO sick on the plane ride back…!  I’m still recovering from the hangover.




(In a small, rose-colored envelope which also contains three 4×8 photographs.  The address and letter are written in neat feminine handwriting with purple ink.)


Stefan called just to make sure I got home ok!!!  Which was weird, because I was totally thinking of him when he called.  It was very sweet.   I am sending you a couple pictures.  Isn’t he a cutie??

Still working on the hangover.  Drinking lots of water and taking Advil.  What was I thinking, trying to out-drink the Irish??

Your Friend,


(The three pictures enclosed with the letter show a tall, skinny young man with a big open smile and messy, slightly shaggy hair.  In one of the pictures, he and A are walking down a country lane together.  There is a stone wall and sheep in the background.  Both of them are smiling happily and A is looking up at Stefan. They are walking close enough to be holding hands, but are not.)


(Written in black ball-point pen on ruled pages torn out of a spiral-bound notebook.  There is a coffee stain on the second page, and some of the words are so smudged as to be illegible.)

Dearest L-

Stefan called again last night, and we talked for hours!  It was a really amazing conversation.  We have so much in common!  It’s kind of bizarre… I mean, we like the same movies, the same music, the same authors… but it’s not just that.  It’s weird stuff too.  Like both of us almost went to Eastern, but then didn’t.  Like both of us spent a summer in Fairbanks, only two years apart.  Like we both lost our virginity at the exact same age, down to the month.  It’s spooky, I tell you.  Sometimes he seems to know what I’m thinking.  Sometimes I know what he’s going to say before he says it.  I feel like I’ve known him my entire life.   I asked him if he remembers mom at all, and he said he thinks so.  She is like an image on the edge of a dream for him, or maybe just a dream.  I don’t remember her at all, I was too young.

[two lines here are scratched out]

I guess it’s not really weird that I feel this intense connection with Stefan, but it feels weird.  Not weird in a bad way, not at all… more like that “Oh My God I’m Falling In Love” kind of weird.  Oh God, did I just say that?  I tell you, Stefan is such a great guy… smart, sweet, funny, kind…

[there is a smudge here, rendering the next two or three words totally illegible}

…if he wasn’t my brother I’d totally be jumping his bones right about now.  I can’t believe I even wrote that thought down.  You know I am going to go to hell.  We were on the phone forever, and it didn’t seem like we’d ever run out of things to talk about.  At the end we were both on the verge of falling asleep, and neither one of us wanted to be the one to hang up first.  It was silly and cute.  In the end we ended up counting to three together and hanging up at the same time.

I had the strangest dreams last night.  I don’t usually remember my dreams very well, but

[three words scratched out}

…anyway my dreams were incredibly vivid and really intense.  I was totally distracted all morning at work.  If my boss had any idea what I was doing instead of being productive…!!  So anyway I’m over at the coffee shop right now and I’m embarrassed to tell you all I can think about is Stefan.  I hope he calls again tonight.  Would it be too weird for me to call him if he doesn’t call me first?  I don’t want to seem pushy or give him the wrong impression.  Shit, I don’t even know anymore.  My stomach is all fluttery just writing this, and it’s not just the lack of sleep and the caffeine.  I don’t know when I’ve felt like this… it’s been a really long time, for sure. [there is a small illustration here, a stick figure with a big smile on its face]  I don’t know what’s going to happen, but right now it feels really good.




(on lavender stationary with a watermark depicting a vase of flowers.  Hand-written in purple ink)


I’m so glad I have you as a friend.  Who else would I be able to tell this stuff to??

So… He came to town yesterday.  (He, being Stefan, who else?)  It was a work thing, he was in meetings all day, but he was able to get away to have lunch with ME!  It turns out he comes to New York City on a fairly regular basis.  He even dated a girl in NYC for a while.  I wonder if we ever passed each other on the street, sat in the same train car… I only think that we must not have, because I can’t imagine that I could have seen him, even as a stranger passing on a crowded street, and not felt something.

Anyway, it was really great to see him again.  I was really really nervous about meeting up with him, like stomach-ache kind of nervousness.  I almost made myself sick, I was so stressed out.  I was afraid that it was going to be weird, awkward, or even worse, that the spark wouldn’t be there anymore, that our connection was just a product of my imagination all along.

Well, the connection was still there… at least it was for me, BIG TIME!  He walked into the café and I was like BOINK! Girly hard-on!  Totally salivating, drool, drool, drool.  I kept thinking to myself ‘Calm down girl, remember he’s your brother!’ But I couldn’t stop thinking those thoughts.

So lunch was really nice, I couldn’t tell you what we ate or anything… it was only about half an hour we were together, but it was the most BEAUTIFUL half-hour EVER!  He slid his chair over so we were sitting really close, and the closer he sat the hotter I got.  At one point he put his hand on mine (I have to tell you, Stefan has the most beautiful, HUGE hands in the world!), and it was totally like… insta-orgasm!!

I hope I didn’t embarrass myself.

He was so sweet and handsome and it was a lot of fun just to hang out and chat with him for a little while, but I couldn’t tell you one thing we talked about… the whole time I was thinking ‘What I really want is to be down on my knees sucking your dick.”

When I got back to work, it was so bad!  I swear I soaked right through my panties.  I was just squirming around in my chair all day, trying not to think sexy thoughts, which of course meant I was thinking nothing BUT sexy thoughts, and I couldn’t DO anything about it!  Grrrrrr!

I was fucking tearing my clothes off as soon as I got back to my apartment.  I barely made it into my bed!  Do you remember that purple silicone toy of mine?  Well, the vibrator part doesn’t work any more, but I still have it, it’s an old favorite.  I grabbed that thing from the desk drawer and fucking JAMMED it!  I was so wet, it was just ridiculous.  I came right away, all that pent-up sexual energy I’d been building up all day just bursting out of me.  I don’t know when I’ve ever come that hard… definitely not since me and Jason first started going out.  And that was just me getting warmed up…  I got off two or three more times after that, and I never even switched on my vibrator.

Oh L, I can’t believe I’m telling even you this stuff… So I was lying there on my bed like a porn star, working my way up to a fourth one, and my cell phone rings, and who do you think it was?!?

So I answer the phone, and Stefan just said he was calling to say hi and say how much he’d enjoyed getting together with me.  I felt like telling him exactly what I was doing and what I was thinking about him, I felt like sending him a picture from my phone of that big purple dildo jammed halfway up my juicy pussy, but of course I didn’t.  Maybe I should have, I don’t know.  I just pictured him, in his bed in his apartment in Phili, with his dick in his hand, softly softly softly stroking…..  Mmmm oh baby, I’d stroke that thing for you…!

Bad A!  Bad!!  He’s your freaking BROTHER for crying out loud!

It’s a good thing he lives in another city than me….

I might just have to masturbate again tonight.

Your Wanton Friend,



(an email, printed up on white computer paper)

He called again last night.  I’d already gone to bed, was ½ asleep when i answered the phone.  it was really nice just to hear his voice.  i think he was a little embarrassed to be calling so late.  Anyway, we just chatted for a while, and then we got onto talking about…  SEX.  OMG, much hotness!  Details soon!




(black felt-tip marker, printed in large capital letters on a napkin.  There is a picture underneath of a stick-figure drawing of a she-devil with exaggerated breasts, a scribbled triangle of pubic hair, a spiked tail and horns coming out of her head)



(spiral-bound notebook paper, blue fine-tip ballpoint pen)

Dear L,

I said I would give you details, so here goes!  Hold on to your hat, it gets pretty wild!  I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world I could tell this stuff to.  I know you won’t judge me.

So when he called the other night and we (of course) started talking about sex…… well we ended up jerking off together.  It was Super Hot.  I totally started it, totally led him on.  I’m telling you, Incredible Hotness!!  I think that was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, and I was really vocal about it, just for him.  I totally got off on hearing him come, too… So Sexy!!!

The next day I totally felt like a schmuck.  I was afraid I’d scared him off for good. I am his SISTER after all.  Who jerks off over the phone with his long-lost sister?

So then he called me, right after lunch, and when I picked up the phone and it was HIM!  I almost wet myself, seriously.  He told me that he was going to be in NY on Tuesday for a presentation, and would I like to get together for lunch?


So– we went to this bar near where I work.  It wasn’t quite noon yet and the place was pretty much empty.  I got a beer, he got a glass of wine.  We kind of snuggled up together in a booth.

I asked him if he wanted to talk about the conversation we had the other night.

He said No, he just wanted to enjoy this time with me.

And then he leaned over and kissed me… it was a really sweet kiss, with tongue and everything, and I tell you I absolutely melted.  I put my hand on the crotch of his pants, and he was totally hard!

You know me, I’m not a wild girl, I’m not a brazen strumpet… well apparently I can do a pretty good impression of one when I feel like it!  I slipped under the table, tugged down his zipper, pulled out his hard cock, and started blowing him right then and there.  And L, I have to tell you, my brother is hung!  He’s not stupid big, just… sizeable.  It’s like the perfect size for a penis.  Nice and thick and well-shaped and delicious… God I enjoyed going down on him!  Apparently he enjoyed it too.  I sucked him really hard, as much of him as I could comfortable fit inside my mouth, while I jerked him off.  It took all of, oh I don’t know, a minute or so, and then he was squirming and humping back against me and his dick was pulsating and then he filled my hungry mouth with gobs and gobs and gobs of boy come.  And I swallowed it all.

When I came back up to the surface, I kissed him on the lips, and he kissed me back, hard.  I think we both wanted to just ditch work and jet back to my apartment pronto for more fun and games, but he had that presentation, and I really did have to get back to work.  (grrr, stupid work!).  On the way out, the bartender gave us a look…!  I think she was just jealous, dirty little slut.  Haha.

I was looking at our pictures later on, and there’s no way around it.  We look alike, we totally look like brother and sister.  Hell, we could easily be taken for twins, even though he’s a year and a half older than me.  No wonder that bartender was giving us the hairy eyeball.

Stefan called me later on after his presentation was over. He thanked me for not getting any stains on his pants, which made me giggle, and asked if I wanted to get together again this weekend.  Of course I said yes.  So I’m going to take the train down to Phili Friday night after work.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Love Always,



(written on yellow legal paper in pencil)


Shhh, Stefan’s still asleep!

I’ve got to get my shit together and get to the train station and back to NYC so I can go to work, but I don’t want to go!!!  I’d rather just stay here and play.

He met me at the train station.  He’d brought flowers, which was very sweet.  I wanted to go straight back to his place and rip all his clothes off, but he insisted on taking me out to dinner first.  Which was super sweet and gentlemanly and all, but totally unnecessary as it was already after ten and I was more horny than hungry.  We went to this nice quiet Italian place which turned out to be a little too quiet.  We got tired of waiting for our food to come and just split.  He was embarrassed, but it was fine by me.  We couldn’t keep our hands off each other in the taxi.  We were so bad!

Stefan has a basement apartment which is really small, but nice and comfortable.

[two lines are scratched out here}

I don’t know why I should be surprised at this point, his place felt really familiar and comfortable to me.  I could have lived there.  Anyway, as soon as the door closed behind us, clothes go flying.  I’m pulling off his clothes and he is tearing mine off.  Its funny, I wore matching bra and panties for him, this black skimpy lacey pair that I thought looked really sexy on me… I don’t think he ever even SAW them on me!

I am pleased to report that my brother looks at least as hot naked as he does dressed.  Especially with a big fat hard-on bobbling around.  Not that I had a lot of time to stand around and admire the view.  He picked me right up, carried me into his bedroom, and summarily deposited me onto his bed.

He started out be very graciously going down on me.  It was an unnecessary gesture– all I wanted right about then was his cock inside me!  Nonetheless, I have to say that Stefan is V*E*R*Y good at licking pussy… I was more than paid back for my under-the-table blowjob.

He very gentlemanly asked if he should put a condom on, and I said no.  He’s my brother after all, not some random dude.

And then he was inside me… Oh my gosh, I can’t even put into words how good it felt.  It was a perfect fit, like we were made for each other.  You know how usually the first time you have sex with someone, even if you’re crazy about each other and you’re both totally into it, it’s still a little clumsy at first?  This time not at all.  We found each other’s rhythm right away.  He starts pumping into me and I am humping back as hard as I can and he is gazing into my eyes, his face is a mask of concentration and I can feel my orgasm coming on and he wails out “Oh Shit I’m coming!” and we both came together….  I think I was really loud about it too. [smiley face] Oh, it was so goooood!  I liked the fact that his come was inside me too… it made me feel…

[word crossed out}

We fell asleep pretty much just like that, naked sweaty sticky, wrapped around each other.  Woke up at least once during the night and fucked again.  It was just so gooood!

Spent the next day (Yesterday… I can’t believe it was only yesterday, it already seems like centuries ago.  It already seems like Stefan and I have been together for ever) mostly in bed, popping out now and then for food and drink or to fuck around in the shower.  He showed me some of his pornography… he’s very cutely shy about that stuff, and it turns out we like the exact same stuff!!

Later on Stefan asked me very sweet and shy-like if he could fuck me in the ass.  Of course I said YES.  It turns out he’d never done that before.  It was really cute, he was really nervous about it… he didn’t need to be.  He could do anything he wanted to me!  Anyway, it was so fucking hot, having him fuck me like that…!  So intimate, so intense… I don’t think it would be inappropriate to call it a religious experience.  Did I mention that his dick is the perfect size?  I’ve never come just from anal sex before.  I didn’t even know it was actually possible!  I don’t think I even touched my clit! When we were cuddling later on, he suggested that we go buy a strap-on so he could experience that for himself.  I asked if he was serious and he blushed red and said ‘yeah, sure’.  Interesting idea, I sure wouldn’t say no to that…

And now here I am in Phili, getting ready to take a taxi to the train station.  My pussy is all raw and sore and I can smell him on me and I haven’t had any sleep and I grin every time I think of him and I am totally in a daze and I don’t want to go…..

Your Friend Always



(on a piece of Days Inn stationary, written with a ball-point pen that keeps threatening to run out of ink.  There are scribbles in the margins where the writer has tried to re-activate the pen)


I’ve been spending all my weekends with Stefan down in Phili.  I’m so happy when I’m with him and it’s not about the sex (ok, so maybe it is, but it’s not ALL about the sex) and I’m so lonely when we’re apart.  People are always asking us if we’re brother and sister, and we’ve started to get pretty good at looking surprised and saying ‘No, why do you ask?’ and they say ‘Oh, you two look like you’re related.’  I don’t know what to do… I’m in love with this guy.  Everyone would say this is so wrong.  Oh L, I really don’t know what we’re going to do.



(there are no more letters)

Comments (5)

The Scranton Archipelago

“Hey Sis!” my brother Glenn called from downstairs, “Get your butt down here and start sucking on my dick!”

I was up in my room, trying to finish my algebra homework.  Glenn was downstairs in the living room, making out with his latest girlfriend, a fact that made it rather hard for me to concentrate on my studies.

I snapped my math book shut and hurried down the stairs, eager to please.  It wasn’t until I was halfway down the stairs that I realized we weren’t alone.

Danielle was just beautiful, I thought.  She wasn’t scary skinny, the way Glenn’s girlfriends tended to be, nor was she blonde.  She was all curvy and cuddly, she had a really large set of round, nicely-shaped boobs, and a gorgeous mop of curly dark brown hair.  She had neat lips that formed a sweet smile, and big brown eyes that twinkled with intelligence and mischief.  She was a couple years older than me; I saw her around school but we’d never had a class together.  Glenn had introduced her to Mom and me the other day before taking her out to dinner, and I had been struck to the core with a painful jab of jealousy.  I wasn’t sure if it was her I was jealous of, or him.

They were sitting slightly apart on the big black leather couch.  Glenn’s jeans and underwear were all twisted up together down around his ankles, and his cock stood straight up from his hairy crotch, wetly erect, red and proud.  He wore a tight white t-shirt and a shit-eating grin.

Danielle modestly tucked her boobs back inside her black bra.  Her skirt was all crumpled up and piled in her lap, and a pair of purple panties lay nearby on the floor.  Her cheeks flushed deep red.  It was really cute.

I approached the couch cautiously.  We’d never done this with someone else present before.

“Come on baby sis!” Glenn caught me by the face, pinching my cheeks in his strong hand.  “Show Danielle how it’s done!”  I could smell sex all over his thick fingers.

I hesitated.  I could feel Danielle’s eyes on me.  Glenn slapped me across the face, lightly, a warning slap.  “Come on Sissy,” he said, “we don’t have all night.”

It was true.  Mom was due home from work by midnight, and it was already past eleven.  I got down on my knees between Glenn’s muscular thighs and got to work.

I loved Glenn’s penis, and at the same time I was scared of it.  I loved it because it was sexy, beautiful to behold, perfectly shaped and formed, and because playing with it got me incredibly, irrevocably aroused.  I was scared of it because it was big, a little too big for my liking, and because its owner was strong-willed, mercurial, moody, controlling and insatiable.

I opened my mouth and swallowed his cock whole, working my tongue all over the red swollen head and pumping the shaft with my small hands.  I could feel Danielle staring at me the whole time, watching what I was doing with– disgust?  disbelief?  jealousy? horror? something else?

“Oh yeah baby,” Glenn groaned, leering over at Danielle, “now that’s how it’s done!”

I felt a flush of pride, and sucked harder.  I’m a sucker for a compliment.  Glenn’s big hard dick felt super sexy in my mouth.  My pussy felt all squishy and wet and my clit tingled.

When Glenn was really excited, when he was focused on coming, when he was super turned-on; that was when it was hardest for him to get off.  His cock was hard as granite; I could tell that he could go on like this for hours.

What if Mom came home from work and found us like this?  Glenn would probably go to prison, I’d be put in an institution, and Danielle would sell her story to the National Enquirer.  I redoubled my efforts, sucking like a vacuum cleaner on the end of his dick and furiously jerking him off with one hand, while my other hand snaked under his bottom and tickled his asshole with one beckoning finger.

That seemed to set him off real good.  He grabbed big handfuls of my hair with both hands and started fucking my face, deep and hard, cramming his cock down my throat.  I choked and gagged a little, but he was way beyond caring about that.  I tried to keep my mouth wide open and my teeth out of the way as he face-fucked me.  Now and then I could gasp in a little air, but mostly I just held on, knowing that it wouldn’t be much longer.

Sure enough, after humping me furiously for thirty seconds or so, he yanked his big wet cock out of my mouth and throttled it with one hand, spraying hot come all over my face.  I like it when he comes like that, but I like it better when he finishes into my mouth.  I fell on the floor coughing and panting, a big wet sticky mess.

“I should be going” Danielle said, wadding up her purple panties and sticking them in her purse, “I’ll see you tomorrow.  Thanks for everything.”

Glenn and me got cleaned up just in time for Mom to come home and scold us both for still being up and send me to bed.  Glenn retired to his own room and Mom fixed herself a post-work cocktail.  I lay in bed for a long time with my vibrator humming between my legs, listening to her move around the house.


Later on that night, when Mom was safely asleep and the house was dark and quiet, Glenn let himself into my room.  I’d been waiting for him, dozing on and off.  He crawled into bed with me, laying down on top of me in the 69 position, and started licking my juicy cunt.

His cock was right up in my face, and I started licking and sucking and playing with it.  It was hard to concentrate; the things he was doing to me with his tongue made me squiggle and squirm.  I knew from experience that I’d have to be careful with his dick; it was all too easy to make him come when he’d gotten off once already and when he was distracted by my pussy, and I wanted to have an orgasm of my own before I made him come again.

He concentrated on my clit, flicking the sensitive little button with the tip of his tongue like a cat lapping up milk and teasing the entrance to my vagina with his fingers.  It was all too much for me.  I forgot all about his dick in my face and gave myself over to the orgasm, bucking and grinding my pussy against his face, moaning out loud into his hot hairy crotch as I came.

He came too, shortly after that.  I think my orgasm really did it for him.  With a long low sigh he squirted a good amount of hot salty bitter come into my hungry, tired mouth.

“One of these days,” he said, still gently fingering my tender virgin pussy, “I’m going to fuck that little hole.”

“No! No no no!” I protested, but I knew it was true, and the thought made my clit twitch all over again.


I saw Danielle at school a couple of times, passing in the hall, but we didn’t speak.  I felt weird and ashamed about what she’d seen, but it also made me feel secretly sexy, knowing that she knew.

About a week later, it was the next Friday night, I was up in my room when I heard Glenn’s car pull into the driveway.  I’d been browsing internet porn and teasing myself through my panties with my vibrator.  I heard the front door open and close.  I pulled up my pants, set the vibrator aside, and held my breath.

I heard them go into Glenn’s room.  I tried not to think about what they were doing in there.  It didn’t work.  I looked at some more porno.  I resisted the temptation to grab my vibrator and finish the job then and there.

Maybe fifteen minutes later, Glenn poked his head in my door.

“Take off your shirt and pants,” he said, “and come on into my room.”

I did as I was told, slipping down the hall and into his bedroom in my matching black bra and panties.

Danielle was lying naked on the bed, her pretty lips wrapped around Glenn’s cock.  Glenn was kneeling next to her head, feeding her his meat.  Her dark curls splashed onto the white sheets in a beautiful mess.  Her big round breasts were pancaked on her chest and jiggled as she sucked.  She had a soft, slightly rounded tummy with a deep bellybutton, and her cunt was shaved bare.  I hadn’t really expected that.  Her outer lips bulged out, and the sex between them was pink and moist.  She had thick, muscular legs, and her ankles were slender and delicate.

When I walked in, Danielle and I made eye contact, and it jolted through me like an electric shock.  Glenn grinned broadly and withdrew his hard cock from her mouth.

“Sit.” He told me, indicating the side of his bed.  I sat.  The walls of Glenn’s room were plastered with heavy metal posters, scary-looking guys with big hair and tons of tattoos.

He spread her thighs wide apart.  I got a really good view of her pussy, and I thought it looked incredibly beautiful, sexy, small and delicate.  The petite inner lips pouted like a dewy flower.  Her pink clit poked shyly out.  She gave me a little smile, but her attention was focused on his big red hard cock.

Glenn maneuvered himself between her legs and took aim.  I heard the squishing noise as he entered her, and the sharp intake of breath as she was penetrated.  Then he started fucking her, hard and deep.  I was so turned on!  I could actually see his cock sliding in and out of her cunt, covered in her slippery juices.  They were both breathing hard, fucking hard.  I knew Glenn, and I knew he could fuck her all night if he chose, fuck her cunt raw.

She was lolling her head back and forth, eyes half-closed, grunting with every thrust of his wicked big cock, her face a mask of tension and pleasure.  If I were a little braver, I would have reached over and played with her clit, making her come on his big thrusting dick.  But I sat quietly as he fucked her.

Suddenly he jumped up, yanking his dick out of Danielle’s open drooling cunt.  He shoved his cock into my mouth and started frantically jerking himself off.

His penis was hot from the sex, and totally coated in Danielle’s come.  It was tangy and a little salty and I liked it.  It tasted sexy.  His cock was thrusting eagerly in my mouth, seeming to swell and throb against my tongue, and his balls were pressed against my chin.

Danielle’s hand found mine and our fingers intertwined.  I squeezed her hand as Glenn jerked off into my mouth.  She squeezed me back.  I opened my eyes and saw her kissing his balls, his inner thighs, and then her head disappeared behind his body and he started moaning and making weird animal noises, and I knew she was licking his ass.  He shouted so loud I was afraid the neighbors would hear, and then he came, flooding my mouth with buckets and buckets of his hot sticky semen.  I swallowed and swallowed and milked every drop from his wilting penis.

He slapped me once, hard across the ass, and sent me back to my own empty bed.  I felt Danielle’s eyes burning into my back as I left the room.


Danielle caught up with me after school, on my way to the bus.

“Hey” she said.


“It’s pretty freaky what you and your brother do.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“It’s freaky, but it’s sexy too.” she said.


“How long have you two been doing that?” she asked.

“Forever,” I said, “Ever since we were little kids.  It started out with just a little fooling around, playing, but it’s been getting more and more serious.  Pretty soon I think we’ll be doing everything together.  Everything.”

“Do you want to come over to my house for a while?”

“Yes,” I said, “I’d love that.”

Both her parents worked during the day, and her little brother was in daycare.  The house was empty.  My pussy was hot and my clit was tingling, and it felt like my panties were soaked.  We didn’t even make it up to her bedroom.

On the cool, smooth linoleum of the kitchen, we kissed and groped and made out for a long time, her big soft breasts pressed up against my own much smaller ones.  My nipples felt like a pair of gumdrops, hard and puffed up.

It felt weird to be kissing a girl.  I liked it.  I liked it a lot.

She pulled my shirt off over my head and deftly unsnapped my bra and began sucking and tugging on my titties.  I couldn’t really believe it: she was beautiful, straight out of a renaissance portrait by Titian or one of those guys, the kind of girl that I would develop crushes on and worship from afar, and masturbate to at night with Glenn’s salty come still fresh in my mouth; and she wanted me.

Then her hands were inside my skirt and pulling aside my panties.  I was so horny I ached.  My pussy felt like it was wetter than Niagara Falls.  With every part of my being, I wanted to feel her inside me.

She pressed two eager fingers up into my cunt, and it hurt for just a second as the fragile tissue was torn away , and then pleasure overtook me and I savored the sensation of having her long clever fingers up inside me, inside my pussy.

Shoving me against the kitchen counter, Danielle kissed me forcefully on the lips, shoving her tongue deep into my mouth and squeezing my breast hard with one hand as she finger-fucked me.

I came hard, moaning, screaming maybe, into her mouth, grinding back against her hand.  Danielle pulled away, extracting her sticky fingers and grinning like a naughty cat.  Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she peeled off her shirt and removed her bra, setting her beautiful, round, grapefruit-sized tits free.

“I have been totally dying,” she said, licking her lips, “to eat you out!

She got down on her knees on the kitchen floor, and I leaned back against the countertop.  I lifted my skirt up out of the way, and she tugged down my panties.  They were a mess of come and blood.  She grinned up at me and dove right in.

Her tongue felt amazing against my clit!  It was like a wriggling little salamander.  Glenn may have had a more practiced technique, but Danielle more than made up for her lack of experience with enthusiasm.  I ran my fingers through her thick, curly hair and dragged my cunt up and down her lapping tongue.  She grabbed my butt with both hands and pulled me into her hungry mouth.

Her tongue circling and flicking my clit pushed me over the edge and I came again, grinding my pussy against her face.  It was a long, intense orgasm, and when it was over, my clit was tender and my knees were wobbly.

I took a thing or two I had learned from Glenn and applied them.  I watched silently as Danielle slipped out of her pants and pulled her red lace bikini panties off.  She knelt in front of me on the linoleum.  She had a gorgeous ass, pale and round and firm and smooth.  *SMACK*SMACK*  I slapped her butt across first one cheek then the other, leaving puffy red imprints of my hand on her flesh.  She smiled.

I got down on my knees behind her.  I could feel her heat, see her wetness, smell her sex.  It was incredibly sexy, like being inside a wet dream.  A little tentatively, I stuck out my tongue and caressed her pussy with it.  She sighed and seemed to open up like a blooming flower.  That taste again, the one I had tasted on Glenn’s fingers before, only even stronger now.  I could get addicted to that taste.  I licked again, drowning myself in her feminine scent, burying myself in her folds.

Her big tits shook as I licked her from behind.  I marveled at her clitoris, how small it was, and how much sensation it conveyed.  She was hot inside and wonderfully wet. I tickled her cute little asshole with my thumb.

“Someday I’m going to fuck that little hole!” I told her with more bravado than I really felt.

“Oh Goody!” she wiggled her rear end playfully, “Lucky Me!”

I went back to licking her clit, determined now to make her come just as she had done for me.  I tried to keep my tongue on her squirming button as I finger-fucked her pussy with two, then three, and finally four fingers, pounding her hole deep and hard until my shoulder ached from it.

When she finally did come, it was amazing.  She was so loud I was afraid I was hurting her, but she grabbed my arm urgently and said “Don’t you DARE stop!”  I licked her clit all the way through the orgasm, with four fingers buried to the knuckles in her pulsing cunt and the tip of my thumb pressed into her anus.  She screamed and shook and ended up collapsed on the kitchen floor with my face stuck stickilly between her thighs.  She rolled over and I crawled up on top of her and we kissed for a long while.

“You,” she said, “Are just amazing.”


That night in my bed, with a mouthful of my brother’s cock, I wondered if he knew that my pussy was no longer his personal property.  I wondered if he could tell that he wasn’t the first person to lick my cunt that day.  After he pumped his semen into my mouth, he uncharacteristically kept licking me until I came.  When I came on his aggressive lapping tongue, I pretended that it was Danielle’s mouth I was orgasming on.


Danielle offered me a ride home from school the next day.  I sat next to her, in the passenger seat of her black Stanza, savoring her presence.  Just being this close to her made my pussy damp.

“What are you going to do when you get out of here?”

I hadn’t decided yet whether I wanted to be a mathematician or a novelist.  But I knew what she meant.  There wasn’t much going on in Scranton: you could work at a call center, or at the Wall Mart like Glenn, or if you were lucky you might get a job at the hospital like Mom.  None of those things sounded at all appealing to me; and Glenn had been getting more and more bossy and possessive over the last several weeks.

“Do you ever think about running away?”

“Constantly.” I said.

“I’ve got a friend in New York City,” Danielle said, “She waits tables and does some modeling and stuff.  She’ll let us stay at her apartment for a while, and she says she could get me work.”

“Ok” I said, squeezing Danielle’s thigh through her jeans.  My touch lingered and strayed up the blue denim to the seam of her crotch which already felt warm and damp to my touch.

She pressed down hard on the accelerator, and made the tires squeal on the onramp.  We hit the interstate doing 80 miles an hour.


Comments (8)

Older Posts »